Sanketh Koka

these are not the ones that you see in mumbai...these are rather blue in color...more spacious as they have less seats and a bit cleaner...there arent any wooden seats...they are cushioned...its neither fast nor slow...there is no churchgate station nor VT...its isnt considered the life line of the city as yet...there are no automatic human pushes to get u in and out of the trains...

She, though is still the same...she walks in with an elegance..something she seems to have been mastered over the months she has been one these...she is clad in a shabby skirt...her hair unmade, is falling onto her face...her hands are fragile...she is bare feet...she has a slight bulge on her elbow...its a cut...she might have picked it up when she fell from the trains on to the platform...she has an expression which reads am hungry...she looks around. looking straight into the eyes of each one of us ...she has this bag hung on one of the shoulders...i see it has a bottle in it...its water...she wud need it...her throat goes dry more often than does ours...the train moves....it makes a lot of noise...right on top of my head is the great indian railway fan...the noise it makes is rhythmic...it does have the capability to put me to sleep...i look back at her...she roams around and then takes a position in the coach...still standing...she slowly crosses her legs...places her hips delicately onto one of the edges of the seat...she seems lost to me...but may be she isnt...she must be thinking...her hand goes inside the bag on her shoulder...she looks to be searching for something...her hand moves from one edge of the bag to the other...she has a small expression of delight...she sees me looking at her...she knows i am thinking...her hands come off the bag...and i see two falt pieces of stones in her hand....i now know what is coming next...thanks to my innumerable local train journeys in the city of mumbai i today know what it is...she slides the pieces in between her fingers as if it was a ritual...she then adjusts them delicately on her fingers...she looks up one last time...a deep breath goes in...i see her chest and stomach bulge out...and then in a second i hear a faint "pardesi pardesi jana nahii...mujhe chod ke..." she is singing her loudest...it doesnt matter how good is she at it...she is just singing...some ppl hardly get to hear it...the train and the fan were louder...she carried on...time instantaneoulsy went back a few yrs...its the same...just that it is a rather crowded local...i see a small girl...fragile hands..shabby skirt..unmade hair...singing the same song...same old song...in a second i am back to the present...she is still singing...i can harldy hear her out...she stops...the stones go back into her bag.. she turns around...walks to a passenger...raises her hand with her fingers crept in...i can read her lips say saab. he looks at her and gives a crooked face...no..she doesnt ask him again...moves to the next passenger...he bends to one side...slides his hand into one of his pockets...then to the other...looks back at her and says "change nahi hai"....all this while she looks at him with a rarefied expression...i find hard to put it down here...its like a picture that cannot be explained..i just wish i cud...its seems to be full of hope but yet its seems pessimistic... she knows the rules of nature...the longer the search for anything the harder it is to find!...she moves on..someone drops a coin on her hand...she smiles or rather she tries...the coin goes into her bag...its a smooth transition...she is comin to wards me...how do i tell her i dont encourage begging in any sense...she says saab...i look into her eyes....naam kya hai...aazmi...kab se gaa rahi ho...do hafte ho gaye...aakeli ghoomti ho....nahi aami bhi aati hain, lekin woh bimaar hain...abba kahan hain...woh mumbai mein kaam karte hain....i am lost for a min...i hear a saab again...saaaaab...i get back to real life...bhook lagi hai...my hands move into my pockets involuntarily...i pull out all the change and drop it into her hands...she isnt happy...nor is she sad...she moves on to the other passenger...i look out of the window...blank...i can feel the air whistling on my cheeks...its been a long time since i could feel this way...my stop approaches...i get up to get to the door...she is now at the other half of the compartment...the stones in her hand...i can see her lips moving but i cant hear her...the train stops at the station....the voice gets clearer....i can hear her go 'pardesi pardesi...jaana nahi...mujhe chod ke...mujhe chod ke.......LIFE! moves on...