An Ode to the One Beside You... When Travelling

Travelling companions come in all sizes and types. While some talk nonstop till you reach a point of life-threatening boredom, some others stare into oblivion outside the window. By travelling companions, I'm referring to strangers you meet in a crowded train, bus or plane. (No offence to any other form of transport that I've left out). I started travelling alone after my tenth standard (which is quite late, in comparison to friends of mine who have always been travelling alone). Since then, I've come across some rather interesting people.

My first journey alone was from Chennai to Mysore, on the Shatabdhi Express. That journey was uneventful because I was seated beside a sixty-year-old man, who seemed to find his Economic Times more interesting. It didn't matter as I was just as interested in my book, The Calvin and Hobbes Anniversary Issue.

The attendants arrived as soon as the train started and handed out newspapers. The ticket collector followed. My neighbour casually pulled out his ticket from his pocket, while I fumbled with the contents of my handbag to find mine. When I finally found it, the angry ticket collector was relieved, but my neighbour seemed unconcerned. In short, it seemed like he was oblivious to my presence. Then I went back to my book. A little later, when I felt the need to visit the toilet, I had to clear my throat twice and mutter "Excuse me" thrice before he turned and looked at me with a deadpan expression.

"Yes?" "Well, I want to go to the toilet," I explained apologetically.

"So?" came his logical question.

"Could you please move aside for me to get out?" I asked politely.

"Sure," he said and got up.

Relieved, I ran to the toilet, trying not to see the other people around, who were giving me amused grins. When I got back, my grouchy neighbour was fast asleep, his hands around himself, protectively. After thinking for a moment or two, I gently shook his shoulder. That didn't wake him up, so I used more force. He woke up with a startled, "Yes?" I pointed to my seat and after thinking for two minutes, he got up. By then, the food had arrived and I was determined to make conversation.

"Could I read your paper?" I asked, pointing to the paper that lay on his lap.

"No," came his curt reply, and I didn't try talking after that.

A trip to Kerala sometime after that proved to be quite different. My travelling companions were a young couple, their three-year-old child and a young chemical engineer (he told me so later). The latter began with a "Hi, where are you going?" and before we knew, we had been talking till we reached Ernakulam town! He did most of the talking, so I got off knowing his entire life history. He even confessed to doing drugs and suggested that I try it at some point. He also gave me his views on which profession I should choose later (I hate it when people I don't know give me their opinions on what kind of person I am). During this time, the other couple was staring at us rather suspiciously. When it was time to say goodbye, the engineer handed me his card and said that he hoped I would keep in touch. I didn't.

Of late, I've been doing a lot of travelling alone, from Chennai to Pune and vice versa. Owing to a medical emergency (actually homesickness), I had to fly back once. On the plane I was seated beside a pleasant, middle-aged American, who seemed very keen on getting to know me. He asked a lot of questions about my course and occasionally I feigned interest in his profession. Then, he asked me where I was going. "Home," I said happily. Smiling, he asked me if my parents lived together. When I gave him a puzzled "Yes," he ended his conversation with a thoughtful, serious, "Lucky girl."

For the rest of the journey I wondered if he was from a broken home, or if his son/daughter was suffering from emotional distress because the kind man had divorced his wife!

Second class train journeys are however more interesting. It is here that you find different kinds of people. Once I traveled with two families. One was an old Marwari couple and the other a mother and her two children. As soon as the train started, all of them seemed keen on starting a conversation with me.

The little boy said, "I saw your name on the list outside."

"Oh really," I said, not knowing how to respond.

His sister asked me if I'd like to play cards with her (I obliged later). The elderly couple grumbled to me about the Chennai heat. They were in Chennai visiting a nephew. It was fun because we were all getting along very well. All of them insisted I share their food as well. This is where I declined. The Marwari couple bought mangoes on the train, squeezed the juice out into a bowl using their hands (yuck) and ate it with chappatis. The other woman brought out a knife (and I thought she was going to eat the mangoes properly), cut the mangoes into small cubes. Then she mixed it with liquidy curd rice and gave it to her children(!!). Both families offered me their food and I politely told them that I was allergic to mangoes. The journey went well otherwise, if you could ignore the confusion over who wanted which berth.

When I came back, however, I had a companion with a difference. An old man, who confessed to his paan-eating habits, he told me about his experiences with musical maestros such as Pandit Ravishankar, Allarakha and so on. I didn't feel the strain of the twenty hours, as we sang all the way to Chennai Central. Just as I got out with my huge bags, he wished me all the best and told me that I should learn Carnatic music if I ever got the chance.

These are not the only interesting travelling companions I've had. I've travelled with some who have been a complete nuisance (asking to exchange berths) and some others who have leered and tried hard to make conversation in their broken English. But with each I've had fun in my own way. They will always remain faces I will associate with some form of transport, because I've never come across them elsewhere. But it is these faces that have made travelling alone so memorable.

So for all those who tend to sit quietly and stare suspiciously at the guy sitting across you in a train, this is the right time to amuse yourself and kill your boredom. Who knows, you might just make a friend!