Ever since I started on trains to far off places, I always enjoyed returning home to Madras. Even when I was in Vietnam, I returned home for every single break. I visited home more often than many of my friends who were living in India. However, I never understood when people talked about 'ahh! my mother's food' because I was not a fan of the food at my home growing up. After 3 years as a vegetarian in upcountry Vietnam, now I appreciate my mother's food in ways that I never imagined possible.
Every time I returned from a trip during college, I would be a changed person from when I last saw things and met people back home. It's like a barometer for me to gauge my thinking against the one constant in my life - Chennai, and rediscover it with fresh eyes each time.
For the last one year, I've been roasting coffee from a couple of permaculture farms and one other confused-in-between farm, under the name Vui Coffee. I roast in Chennai, and so every time I run out of coffee, I take the Shadabti to MAS (now named after MGR, and not Chennai Central anymore).
I don't enjoy sleeping on the train anymore. I used to not care about these things, but now a preference has emerged. Also, only retired people visiting their adult kids have 7 hours to spare during the day on a train, so I get tickets any time I want. I've been ferrying coffee up and down in suitcases, to roast in Chennai and bring back. The word-of-mouth route has resulted in sales growing at a snail's place so I can still lug coffee in a train, only a little more frequently. Talking of slugs there is a sudden abundance of them in the Mysore home this year. Leaves of plants have been eaten all over the place. I don't know what had caused the sudden jump in their numbers, but they move around like in some sci-fi movie.
Back to my sales, if any of you would like to try the coffee, or recommend it to a friend, the website is www.vuivui.in. It's nice to see a steady, albeit small group of customers value my values.
There are many like-minded people around, we just need to find each other, and not spend our lives in lonely battles. I remember going to remote places where life would reduce to food, water, shelter and company. Sometimes I wonder why we all live far away leading such busy lives (I include myself in all of this ranting, except the busy part), hardly ever meeting each other, spending our lives on Whatsapp. I say this even as I plan for a life in Coorg which is going to need 'Ekla Choro' on loop for some time.
Back to the Shadabti, for unknown reasons, they mistake the air-conditioner for a freezer, and routinely you'll see people dressed for Christmas in Kaza. I dislike the air-conditioning, but it's the only way to keep the dust out they say. Still, why so cold?
When I was young I used to spend long train rides sitting on the footboard by the door. Back then nobody said anything for this, and sitting on top of buses and so on. This time a security guard came and asked me to close the door because people are pelting stones from the darkness into the train, for no apparent reason. Once when I was in the early teens, me and a few kids stood outside our apartment situated in the corner of a T junction. When an auto turned the corner, we threw a punctured water packet (Re.1) right on the auto's windshield and ran. The auto guy was in shock and rage. He ran after us, and I was the laggard. He caught me by the collar and whacked me. By the time he paused my pants were wet, and I ran down in embarrassment. Still a tiny word spread that I didn't rat on the guy who actually threw the water-packet, and that's the only Goodfellas moment in my life.
Back to the train, the weather is great most of the year, and I love that the Indian railways somehow thought of putting a solitary seat by the door. The scenery from Chennai to Bangalore is filthy to begin with, and Mysore is not like this. It's early in the morning and it's a good time to relax - the hard part of waking up and reaching the train is over. I sit and look out and the scenery slowly improves, and mid-way to Bangalore, we are seeing rocky hills and shrub-forests. A sight that never gets old.
I used to see if I can spot a snake from the train. Recently I had the privilege of sharing a train ride with the amazing Kaali from Madras Crocodile Bank. When I recognised him I had a fanboy moment and I shook his hands, and he proudly turned to his wife. He turned back and told me that she doesn't believe him when he tells her that he's famous. I asked questions for the entire ride and he patiently explained everything about snakes that one could want to know. We stood by the door and he also appreciated the fresh air. A cop passed by and stared at him suspiciously while not giving me a glance. Kaali explained that this is normal for tribals, that I look a certain way which gives me immunity. When I was narrating a story about some tribals cutting sandalwood trees from a farm I knew, he said 'what will they do... they also have to live no?', and it was the first time someone had directly voiced the other perspective. Anyway, Kaali told me it's futile to look for snakes from a moving train, and since then I stopped looking so hard.
By the time the train leaves Bangalore, 30 minutes out as we cross the huge apartment complexes whose residential density and it's effects on the neighbourhood I cannot even imagine, we see the blessings of nature upon Karnataka. The greenery and water is rivetting. So many little streams and lakes everywhere. Sometimes I see peacocks, my aunt saw a mongoose family the other day. Ten days ago the Cauvery was in full flow, and it took that to get people to look up from their phones. It was especially appreciated by the service staff who do this route six days a week. It's a joy to reach Mysore.
I always enjoyed sitting in a moving train or bus and staring out. It filled my childhood with time to reflect and process everything in my head. A lot of ideas and strong thought-pathways were built this way. I feel the same way these days. I can sit there and meditate for hours, and sometimes listen to a little music.
This might change once I no longer have to go to Chennai to roast, but that is still some time away, and it's great to live in the moment and enjoy this phase of life.
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