Monday, May 14, 2007

Train yosanais

Listening to Shiny Happy People by REM that's exactly what I think they were. Shiny happy people in the unreserved compartment, greased by sweat and grime off 300 odd kms. I hadn't even got out of the city when this compartment of friendly accommodating folks began to smell of malli poo, sambar-caked-fingers, a fusion of dripping odors and water with a dusty rusty twang. Hygiene? What's that indeedy. Build resistance muchly. Chikku peels and shiny black seeds like bugs on the slushy blue floor. Meandering puddles of water and pee jetted from kids by grimy feet.

It's amazing how space can be created. Bodies meld and curve and create nooks and crooks to fit in a sagging knee, a curled finger, a curved behind into a curved abdomen, the head at an angle, criss-crossing armpits that lend a view to the left eye. Way beyond sticky, felt I should take a part-time job as the human glue. Park myself in a post office and get people to swipe a finger on me to seal their envelopes.

And the other time twas the kid rattling away her flimsy plastic toy gun and threatened to poke my eye apart from slowly warming my rage. But the kid was sweet. When she put that idiotic toy down that is. I was quite touched when she put a hand out to stop my book from slipping off my lap when I was struggling to get the change into my pocket while trying hard not to tilt my tea. I've always felt that we must go beyond tolerance to acceptance. But then I figured that tolerance is the best we can hope for cause we're so inclined to be pissed off as much as we're inclined to be touched.