The Great Indian Culture Express - Nayi Dilli

The boarding area was brimming with people. I managed to take the last vacant seat and eagerly awaited the call to board the lengthy 2- hour flight back home. As I tried to find a way to sit comfortably, a professional-sounding voice of an airline staff came through the speaker system and announced a 20-minute delay to our start. The collective sigh of the passengers drowned out my loud moan. There was only one thing to do - bury myself further into the small screen in my hand.

Train to Nayi Dilli

The railway station was abuzz; the faceless lady did her best to keep the yatris informed about their respective trains in her fluent albeit funny style. People bumped into each other as they hurried out of a train or into one. My family, and our countless pieces of luggage, occupied a fair part of the pathway waiting for the Nayi Dilli Express. Our journey to Nayi Dilli would take a good part of 2 days, and we looked forward to enjoying every minute of it.

On such trips, one of the first things that piqued our interest was imagining our fellow passengers with whom we would fill up the eight seats that formed a unit. Given that we would be seeing a great deal of them for the next two days and being invariably the first ones to board the coach, we would eagerly await for them. Everyone who passed by would be looked at with expectation. We often matched names on the passenger list with the people who passed by to see if we could spot who Mr. Arora, Mr. Iyer or Mrs. Singh was. Sometimes the names, age and gender would be a giveaway - a Sardar boy entering may be Mrs. Singh’s son, or a man sporting thick, black, square glasses could likely be the 50-year-old Mr. Chakraborty. But this was a hit or a miss and mostly the latter.

Before long, our fellow yatris would arrive and identify their seats. The first interactions were almost always about fitting their luggage, given that ours would have occupied more than the fair share. Helping each other with the many oddly shaped bags - cramming them under the seats or any available space - gave a sense of bonding over the shared space that would be our compartment.

Breaking the Ice

After settling down and allowing the train to start its course, the lull in the compartment would be broken by a volley of ice breaker questions - where was each person going, where we came from, what were we going to our destination for and so on.

Meanwhile, the kids in the group would exchange looks and slowly start sharing toys even as the adults continued to deepen connections by sharing names of people - distant relatives or casual acquaintances - from the same place as the copassengers and wondering if they knew them. If, on the off chance, some connection did emerge through shared contacts, there would be no end to the joy. The camaraderie would be palpably different and make it feel like the compartment unit knew each other for many years.

Should no such connection materialize, which was usually the case, there was always the option of mentioning a popular place - a temple perhaps or a renowned landmark - or a popular food giving the impression that we knew something material about them after all. That usually worked wonders.

Culture Exchange

The thing with train journeys is that it allowed perfect strangers the opportunity to meet and spend extended periods together giving ample time for one to observe and, equally, to be observed. As a kid on many such journeys, one could rarely miss noticing the differences - from clothing to food; from language to manners - there were always things that seemed unique to the places and their backgrounds. From handshakes to exchanging warm hugs to different degrees of namaskars, pranaams and salutations - the varied and sometimes elaborate goodbyes - presented a sense of their culture and traditions. We would see people attired differently - from their head caps, the dhotis and the way the women draped sarees - and conversing in different languages through the journey.

Travelling with people of all ages and stages - old, young, families, newlyweds, bachelors - made it entertaining. We often found common ground - games, songs, etc - that we would engage each other with and enjoy together. Of course, the adults chatted away from morning till night on all topics from politics to sports to movies, finding common grounds for extensive discussions. One topic would end only for another one to start. Language barriers hardly impeded the conversation flow. Kids always found a way to bond over simple joys such as climbing the berths and getting down or running up and down the coach.

During the journey, hearing new languages was a great source of amusement. Picking up small pieces of sentences of an unknown language and deciphering what they meant kept everyone occupied. Hindi, Bengali, Telugu, Malayalam, Marathi, Oriya - and many more - all provided freshness to our travels. While English came in handy to connect, the journey allowed the chattier ones to teach and, in turn, learn a new language, at least a few sentences.

Food was an essential part of all these train travels. A special piece of luggage was used to carry the many food and snack items that were packed, especially for the train. As boxes and boxes of sweets and savouries would be opened, they would be passed around to quickly become another conduit by which strangers shared. I used to wait for them to reciprocate for me to enjoy sweets from different places. From Laddoo to Mysore Pak to Dharwad Peda to Sandesh to Peta - all food was tasted and savoured. Most of these episodes ended with recipes of these local delicacies being shared along with special tips and secrets to make them the authentic way.

Over the two days, the train would grind its way slowly through several stations and provide us with a window into the many diverse people and their cultures. Sometimes we would find ourselves in a coach filled with a wedding party - making us one of them as well and enjoying the cacophony. And finally, as we neared our destination, we would feel sad to part ways with our yatri friends and wish the journey could have been longer.

Travelling usually was an event by itself. Getting to meet different people and making their acquaintance was sometimes a start towards a life-long friendship between families and cultures.

Back to the Present

I looked up at the frustrated fliers - many similarly buried in their phones trying to make the most of the wasted hours and keeping away from conversations. As I turned around, I caught the eye of the elderly gentleman next to me, who was looking at me as well. He sported a warm smile that escaped out between a white moustache and a matchingly hued long beard. I tucked my phone away and greeted him, “Namaste, Uncle.”