|
|
|
|
|
Traveling by train in India allows for no short travel options. In fact, it is quite an experience in and of itself to see India by train alone.
On a journey of seven, or forty hours, one gets such an extreme dose of sensory overload it is a wonder some people ever get off. However, the small rural towns, festivals, farmers, and exotic wildlife that whiz by at top speed are actually only part of the experience. It is the people you encounter on the trains that provide a unique experience with every trip.
The countless vendors that pass through the walkways of the cars are different at each stop. They sell everything from chai to gold chains, candy, even combs. Beggars and wanderers get on and off at various stages with the throngs of other passengers. From snake charmers to street performers, the scenery inside and out of the cars is ever changing.
Of all the trains in India, only one is so firmly imprinted on my mind that I think of it frequently. On a train from Nasik to Aurungabad a clan of thirty people stepped briefly into my life. Men, women, and children, piled into the already overloaded train car, and quickly found nowhere to sit.
Donned in brilliant indigo and rust-colored blouses, head wraps, and tapered, gauzy pants, they were a Technicolor vision. The most striking feature of this nomadic crew was easily the hardware that came with them. Large silver swords draped across men’s torsos, some bearing additional daggers, while others clutched small brass pots. Like a modern day tribe of prophets, the men were traveling with women dressed in surprisingly colorless outfits. Gray and tan colored robes sat lifelessly on the weathered women of the group.
The children immediately started bounding up onto the small luggage racks above the passengers, while the women and little girls found random slivers of seats her and there. Across from my girlfriend and I, two plump girls nestled into the humid bench, pushing our imposing backpacks off to the side. The four of us sat facing each other. Their tiny soiled hands and dresses were the radical opposite of their older male counterparts, yet they possessed a beauty the others did not.
My girlfriend and I whispered back and forth, their stares upon us. We were going through the quintessential debate of travelers everywhere. To take a photo of a captivatingly intimate moment, or not, was the issue at hand. Merely an arm’s length away, we were practically sitting on top of the young nomads, packed in on all other sides of the overstuffed train car. The girls began whispering back and forth as well, duplicating our every move. They looked terrified of us, yet their eyes were as full of curiosity as our own.
The shrill cries of a rail thin candy vendor passing through the isle temporarily broke the fixation the four of us had on each other. As he pushed his way through the mass of people the girls took their eyes off of us and looked excitedly at their mother sitting in the next bench over. Reaching into her dusty robes she drew out a few rupees and handed them to the vendor. A handful of multicolored, pregnant-looking candies were exchanged with a nod. The girls snatched the sweets up gleefully and began working on the treats. Suddenly they stopped. The duo looked up at us sheepishly and held out sweaty, open faced palms in unison, full of gooey goodness. Feeling overwhelmed at such an open gesture of kindness and friendship, often so noticeably absent in the West, we accepted, quickly nodding our heads in thanks.
As we began to suck on the little candies, the mother slyly slipped one more item out of her robes and handed it to the girls. They grabbed it from her nervously, glancing up at us only briefly. The mother stared at us pointedly as the girls suddenly hung their heads down in shyness. After a quick nudge, one of the girls slowly looked up and made a clicking gesture with her empty hand. Slight confused, we looked in her other hand for a clue. There sat a store bought disposable camera, shiny and new.
The girl took the camera and pointed at us, relying solely on non-verbal cues to ask is this one, all-important question. The two of us looked at each other in utter amazement. All along they had wanted the same thing as us; a photo, just to remember the foreign-looking girls. We casually smoothed back our matted hair, nuzzled in a little closer, and smiled for the camera. |  |  | FLAG THIS STORY FOR REVIEW | |
| |
|
| COMMENTS ABOUT THIS STORY |
|
|
|
|