The Train

Traveling in a sleeper class compartment is never boring. It is really like a gathering of tribes. Introductions are frequent and bonds are formed, even if for temporarily. Sometimes addresses are exchanged, photographs taken for memories and the whole journey becomes an extension of our very own private lives. And when the train stops at the last station and the goodbyes and good wishes are exchanged and you suddenly find yourself among the coolies, the touts and the taxis, the journey would have already etched a fine memory in your mind which you shall recall at some point in your future as you do your routine, mundane chores in your life like reading a newspaper in the toilet, or watching some boring news on sitcom or having those familiar conversations with familiar people whom you see everyday in your life.
I looked outside the window to witness the day, the trees, vast rice fields which some economists around the world argued were the future of the country and all things stable, pass by in rapid motion. And suddenly amongst the now constant hum of the chattering of passengers there, resonated a loud but very melodious female voice. It was the voice which enraptured the listening ears. I looked around the compartment to check the speakers but was pleasantly surprised to see two women clad in colorful saris make their way in, dramatically from the aisle of the coach. The chatter inside the compartment came to an abrupt halt and as if by the power of music, everyone inside, for once, had ears. One woman had a microphone in her right hand, the other hand held the cord. The second woman had a small cubical amplifier on one hand and the other hand stretched out for alms. The singer sang on an uninterrupted note, voice flowing, melodious and confident.