Cast Away : a Memoir

I was in no mood for this journey and cursed my luck as I wiped the sweat from my sun damaged face. The hellish summer sun was spitting fire and the intense heat was becoming unbearable. The train was zipping across the parched dry Indian landscape but beyond the window nothing seemed to move.

Typical Indian summer mercilessly devouring all the life on earth, vast expanses of uncultivated land, plants which once bore the fruits of love were now shriveled old lifeless things, unending lines of leafless trees, naked and exposed to heat and dust, all silently atoning for their unknown sins under the surveillance of a cruel sky. I watched the ceaseless fight to survive and win over the most difficult time of the year with dull and vacant eyes. The glare was too much to bear and after a while my eyes began to revolt. There was little I could do.

The sky was barren too except for some lonesome patches of white clouds drifting aimlessly in the distant horizon, gloomy and helpless. Sweltering wind swamped me with the dry, bleak lifelessness prevailing outside the window of my compartment.

Inside the stuffy compartment it was an entirely different scenario. I was sharing it with a few verbose middle aged co-passengers. Regulars, I guess. Despite of the heat waves I kept my face pressed to the window, just to avoid the loud shoddy chit chat. A perennial pastime of mankind has been heaping scorns on others in their absence and these men were no different. I somehow preferred the numb dullness pervading outside over this abominable display inside.

The train slowed down with a jerk as a station was approaching. One thing that I must tell my readers is that the Indian railway stations are a kind of anthropological museums by themselves. Each section of our society is represented in its entire splendor. The upper sections of the society get to mingle with the marginalized majority of masses traveling in general compartments. Rag pickers, vendors, children of the lesser gods, rejected and doomed to fight for their daily survival and worst of all the beggars.

The flip side of glorious "India shinning" is displayed in all its nakedness at these stations for all to see. Railway Station is a place where a large number of public stops by while changing two trains to work or back home, unknown people with known faces. It is also a haven to countless homeless elders, jobless youth and abandoned children.

The train slowly came to a halt. Like a swarm of bees the vendors started humming their daily punch lines. Suddenly the sleepy hollow became alive with activity of all sorts. Groups of rag pickers jumped on to the tracks and buried themselves in the filth that lined the gleaming hot tracks.

Engulfed by the numbness I kept staring out vacantly. Then I spotted him, a beggar who was going window after window asking alms and something to eat. People gave him the most hated "go- away- from -here -you -filth" looks as if he were not human. They did not want a patch on their highly up market coat.

But he went on begging unperturbed by the cuss words and sharp hateful glances. Showering blessings on every donor and quietly nodding at the others. My eyes somehow got glued to him and followed his each move, each expression.

It is difficult to say if he was very old age-wise, but he definitely seemed very near to the collapsing point of the burden he was carrying, a burden called- life. Battered rags covered his frail form. He supported the bent upper half of his body with a crooked stick and wore a perpetual solemn look on his withered face. Even a generous one rupee coin didn't bring any glint in his forlorn ageless eyes.

Life for him was nothing more than a monotonous, ceaseless and unrewarding drudgery and not an adventurous voyage.

I watched him approach my window.

"Saheb, please give this poor hungry man something to eat, I have not tasted one morsel since last night. God will fulfill all your dreams and will give you immense wealth", he pleaded with folded trembling hands.

The obese man in a tight fitting safari suit sitting by my side became jittery and mouthed a volley of cuss words directing the beggar to go away.

Used to such insulting inhuman behavior, He stayed on and persisted.

The fat person was fuming by now and yet another of his creed began in an obnoxious tone, "O Ho Get the hell away from here you scum of the earth, selling your self respect for a meager piece of bread."

"What's the point of leading such a humiliating life anyways?"

The others nodded in mutual agreement. Encouraged by the lot he continued, "At your age you should surrender yourself to the almighty and He will take care of you. There is no dearth of humans in our country. If I were you, I would have let the train run over my worthless body. One burden less on our earth." His friends nodded and applauded him.

I watched the whole scenario with absolutely no expression. The wretchedness, the pain and the entire begging act had always seemed artificial to me but at that moment the melancholy and the dejection on the beggar's face was more alive than the men seated beside me. All of a sudden the upper crust of ice melted and seething stream of water began to shimmer in his mournful eyes.

"What's the bloody difference between you and a street dog, both living to fill your bellies", the obese man said in punching voice.

"Dregs of the society I say. Guttersnipe" said the one who had started the abusive spray.

The beggar lowered his head and moved ahead bit quickly for his physique. I watched, the pain, hurt and anger all rising within me at the same time. After walking a few steps, he stopped for a while and stared thoughtfully at a emaciated stray dog sleeping on the filthy platform.

The whistle sounded in the background and the train began to pull out of the station slowly. My co passengers resumed their noisy discussion over their packed dinners and cold drinks.

I tried to stop the deluge building up inside me by penetrating the deep darkness through my window. Unable to get their voices out of my head I plugged the earphones and turned the volume high of the Ipod.

"Strangers in the night" began to vibrate in my senses which for the time being had become as numb as the feelings in most of the human race.