Few groundnuts and more thoughts tossed.

Men traveling alone without any female companion in Indian train journeys can rejoice to be in best of the luckiest times if he is allowed to take the seat he is allotted to. “Dude.. can you take that seat instead of this, we are a family?”, “Brother, can you leave the window seat for ladies and take that seat? (which could be near to wash room)”. I haven’t said ‘No’ unless the replacement seat is in an unreachable compartment. It was one of those so many Train journeys where I was asked to take a seat other than the one I was allotted, as it happens most of the time. Compartment was full with people and baggage. No more space for my only luggage to be placed in a non-hindering space; except a fitting gap below the opposite seat. So, I thrusted mine into that and squeezed myself between two fluffy men.

Mister in the right tossing groundnut into mouth told me – “Thambi(Younger Brother), you have so much space in the luggage rack at the top, you are placing it here?!”. He wants to slack stretching his limbs.

While I was looking up there to see if there is any space at all, Mr. at my left said – “No, space there, buddy. Leave it as it is.”

One in right started surging up his volume – “Yes, you can. If you think you can, you can. Push those bags and make some space.” But mine was a trolley, it was so big to push bags and make space for it.

Gentleman at left laughed out loud saying, “don’t be joking”.

I was able to hear groundnut getting crushed harder. I was too weak to portray logic for him then. So, I moved mine to the way path.

Then I slipped into – Dostoevsky’s White nights.

Eventually, a transwoman came clapping; asking for money. Prodding each and every one. They weren’t rude as the ones I have experienced.

At once the transwoman left the place, a women opposite murmured, “Why can’t they go and earn, aren’t they ashamed to beg..” to another lady beside her.

Mr. at my left asked, “What was that?”

“I said, why can’t they go work somewhere and earn..” she repeated.

“Say, you have a shop. Would you give them a job?”

She made a grin, “It depends”

“Depends on what, mam?”, he chuckled mockingly, “They are socially disabled. Ofcourse they should live a life as us. But that depends more on us than themselves. It is your choice to help or not to. But, don’t jump to judgements.”, he told her in a tone to defeat her presumed tidiness.

She whipped her sweat beads of embarrassment. Didn’t talk anything after.

Mr. at my right leaned down from slacking and looked at the Mr. at my left. Perhaps, he couldn’t digest the thought that the one in the left spilled.

Perhaps to leave out of inconvenience created, Gentleman at left started talking to me.. initially asking my whereabouts; for which I answered him only half true. Then, he started talking on Russian literature and Dostoevsky, for half an hour and more.

“Try, Ivan Turgenev sometime”, he said as we shook hands to depart.

“Train commutes are a unique ‘being’ ”, once a friend said. How true!


What’s God’s awesome plan for me?

There is this scene in the movie “Hugo”, where the little boy, watching the beauty of Paris at night from the giant train station clock, says to isabelle…


I’d imagine the whole world was one big machine. Machines never come with any extra parts, you know. They always come with the exact amount they need. So I figured if the entire world was one big machine, I couldn’t be an extra part. I had to be here for some reason. And that means you have to be here for some reason too.

This movie made me observe few things happened in life, which I had just been passing-by till then.

On every friday, My mother used to wake my sister and me bit earlier in the morning than the other days, as we had a special tasks to be done – wholeheartedly! Even if we didn’t do so, we at-least made them believe we did so. I had to buy half a litre of milk and do some religious rituals to Mr.Ganesha who was sitting in the temple nearby my sweet home. And my sister has to buy a lemon, make an oil Lamp out of it and place it to lord Dhurga in the same temple. We were asked to do so, as Lord Durga and Mr.Ganesha are gods who bless people with knowledge and Intelligence. But, It was an hard time for both of them.

As days rolled on, Mr.Ganesha started to cunningly play with my marks, if I missed to make him happy. As long as I made him happy with half litre of milk poured over him, Mr.Ganesha helped me in getting decent fail marks. I remember, whenever I prayed to him those days, I tried to compromise him with cheaper things like – a camphor or a flower, asking the needs in particular.

When Life started becoming more than just a pass mark, I wasn’t sure of what to ask him. Things I thought would be right for me, went brutally wrong. And things I never had faith on, has made my heart drop its jaw with awe. One of the craziest thing in this processes of dying is, we have least clue on things gonna happen next microsecond or nanosecond.  Even if we have an hunch on few, its just an Hunch, just an intuition. At-least for me.. Decisions are made based on hopes. No matter how confident I am of my choice, I can’t help keeping the “what-if?” at bay.

Then on, I involuntarily started asking Mr.Ganesha, to do just what is good for me. I have thanked him for things that hasn’t went the way I wanted, Not once or twice but at many point in time. Few anecdotes has showed me.. why it hasn’t/has happened, years later.

I believe or things made me believe, all happenings in life is akin to some plan that is pre-written, and it is least possible to be re-written. Ore has to be pored on the mold to bring it to a shape. To a Shape, that would suit best for the machine to which it is gonna be fit. Wrench even is a Simple machine, just to repair another.

When I mention “fate”, word “Purpose” is within it always.

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
Allen Saunders