I returned from Kolkata a week back. I am still haunted by the man sitting across from me, in the second class non-AC sleeper, on Yeshwantpur-Howrah Express. The train left Howrah around 8:30 pm, and I lay down on the lower berth with my newly acquired old Tanpura - in its brand new black case. I lay side by side with my instrument, legs curled around its Lau base, comfortable and aware - to not damage this precious instrument. Three seats/berths were still empty.
When I awoke next morning, a new set of passengers had arrived to fill up all berths, and all passages and spaces between the berths; two people were sleeping in the two feet width separating berths, on the floor, sideways, comfortably and intimately, as the poor still know how. Later, I learnt that they were strangers to each other - squeezed together in their desperate need for sleep.
The man across me, at the opposite window seat must be forty - at most. He was dark, gaunt, with tight skeleton hands - all veins protruding. He wore his thin dark, well oiled hair in an unusually long fashion, curling at his ears and back. His clothes were worn thin - but neat. His eyes were hollow, slanty with pronounced lids. Lips were tiny, nose small, cheekbones wide and pronounced, emphasised by hollow cheeks. He was small - and light - and yet there was physical strength of a manual laborer or even a skilled crafts person.
What shook me, internally, as the day progressed, was that the man did not eat - at all. Nor did his companion - a skinny youth 18-20 years old. The man in the top berth seemed to be their boss, younger, well fed and sleeping - he seemed to be taking them to some job near Bangalore. When the young man ordered lunch for the two of them, the man in the top berth shouted that there was no way he was spending this amount of money feeding them; he cancelled their orders and kept a single order of lunch. Breakfast happened, and then snacks, and then lunch - people had either ordered railway food or had some food packed with them. The compartment of eight typically had five additional people - all ate, chatted, dozed, slept. I enjoyed the window seat with a stiff breeze and rolling countryside, hills, trees, water bodies, birds of wide variety - lots of cranes, herons, snake birds - black, still and wings wide spread. I was also constantly bothered by my two hungry companions. The young guy had wolfed down a small bag of puffed rice that he had with him - but the older guy ate nothing. While we ate, they obstinately stared out of the windows - often times their gullets moving as they swallowed at particular enticing smells of samosas, coffee, masala moori, biryani. The guy on the top berth ate his full lunch and again slept.
I had never witnessed hunger - or this kind of starvation - in anyone, before. It shook me that this was what it looked like - tear less, anger less, hopelessly bleak and gnawing. This hunger was proud, withering and stoic. I ate with shame the theplas my mom had made for me - with love, corrainder, hing and other masalas - light, fragrant, and delicate.
Around 5pm, the young man softly asked the older guy "maybe he will atleast give us Tea?" and the man replied " but there is too much shame in asking..". They both remained engrossed in their hunger - silent and blank.
I overcame my personal embarrassment and bought them food - for the rest of the journey. The young guy, objected, only mildly. Neither met my eyes - but took the food - turned away and ate. Next morning, I was woken up with a light pat on my arm, and a face lit by a gentle smile " don't miss your stop - we are leaving"
I am still haunted by that face - chiseled by years of hunger - of a proud and working man, with nothing to eat. That too in this - India Shining.
