This is from a childhood memory of mine. It was 1995, and I was sitting on a railway station platform no. 1 at Lumding station waiting for Cachar Express train bound for Silchar with my parents. I think I was about twelve at the time. My parents and I had just arrived at Lamding station early in the evening and had to wait for the connecting train to Silchar. We were waiting for the Cachar Express train belonging to Indian railways from Lumding Junction to Silchar in the Northeast Frontier Zone. It has 12 halts. 37 intermediate Stations between Lumding Junction and Silchar Covering a total distance of 212 km in 12 hours time. The Departure time of Cachar Express from Lumding Junction is 20:15 hours and arrival time at Silchar is 08:15 +1 night. It usually comes on Platform Number 1 at Lumding Junction station.
Now there was a long wait till 20:15 in the evening before our train arrived.
Most of the time I had been pacing up and down the platform, browsing at the bookstall for comics— mainly of Cha Cha Chaudary, Nagraja and Shikaru Shambu or feeding on broken biscuits: trains came and went, and the platform would be quiet for a while and then, when a train arrived it would be an inferno of heaving, shouting, agitated human bodies. As the carriage doors opened, a tide of people would sweep down upon the nervous little ticket-collector at the gate and every time this happened I would be caught in the rush and swept outside the station.
Now tired of this game and of ambling about the platform, I sat down on my suitcase and gazed dismally across the railway tracks. As the train was scheduled for departure in the evening, the platform was getting busy with passengers who were waiting for their trains to arrive. As we were seated in one of the big chairs just at the main gates at the platform. Trolleys rolled past me and I was conscious of the cries of the various vendors—the men who sold curds and lemon, the sweet meat seller, the newspaper boy— but I had lost interest in all that went on along the busy platform, and continued to stare across the railway tracks, feeling bored and a little lonely and restless.
I looked up and saw a young family sitting just 50 metres away from me in the opposite direction. I saw a large imposing woman who wore spectacles, with pale face, and dark eyes feeding her child. She wore few jewels, and was dressed in a red sari with a vermilion on her head and a man standing next to her, who I suppose was her husband. She held the boy’s hand and said “khalo nah” (eat it) in an authoritative manner. They were trying to over feed their child though he was done with eating and would not like to eat further; however, the mother was adamant that her son to finish the remaining food, was kind of forcing the child to eat all. As she was putting the food in her baby’s mouth, all of a sudden the boy started to vomit the food, I noticed a man (very poor) standing next to the food stall in opposite direction came running down to the place and just grabbed the food vomited by the boy and finished eating within seconds.
He was waiting and anticipating for something of that sort to happen so that he could get the opportunity to be able to get on to it. It was so heartbreaking and heartening for me to witness that as a child that people could do anything for their helplessness, grief and sufferings. We should be grateful and thankful to the almighty for everything we have been blessed with and should make proper use of every single opportunity that comes along the way and respect the things we do have and do not waste anything— especially the food, eat that much you feel you could finish, we make a living, work hard day in and day out just for the sake of fulfilling our needs— to fill our stomach.
My parents also witnessed the man picking up the food and eating from the ground, my dad was quick to point the finger at me referring to the man, as I was very fussy and choosy with eating habits, I would not eat anything and would constantly complain about the food being served saying this is not good food and blah blah…He gave me a big lecture and lesson about poverty. What does it means for people who live with it? The man acted out of desperation and hunger, didn’t even gave a second thought about filthy food—vomit , just picked it and took it to his mouth. Of course had it been any other person from a well to do family, he/ she would never ever have done anything like that. That day I kind of felt sorry for him because I didn’t have that kind of decision making ability to comprehend the whole situation that unfolded and was just not accustomed to this kind of stuff.
This incident kind of played a very strong and lasting effect on me as I grew older. I still remember and visualise that moment— vividly and crystal clear runs in my mind remembering the day. I felt very miserable and realised the importance of being respectful to all those things I was blessed with which many others could not afford to have. For all the reasons I am grateful and thankful to Him for everything that has been given to me by my parents. There are so many people around the world who don’t have the luxury to feel fortunate enough for their lives due to poverty and lack of education. It took me some time to understand what was happening, slowly I started to eat things that I didn’t like to eat before and gradually became more and more accepting of any food that was being cooked at home. I even started to value the fact that it wasn’t just me and my family who were going through this process of trying to make a living but also the people who were going through the same process of finding a way out for themselves to get back into their own lives because they were not able to afford the same lifestyle.
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