by Sandhya Ramachandran
[box]Sandhya Ramachandran loves Ahmedabad for reasons more than one. It’s a place that has taught her many things and has given her a truckload of memories. Catch her sharing her feelings for the city that has given her priceless wings. Sandhya also promises some bonus. She picks some moments in her train journey from Ahmedabad back home – a short piece that will make you say, ‘Oh yes, I have been there too!’.[/box]#1: An Affair with Ahmedabad
And a chapter comes to an end. The road forks to lead me back home.
Two years of a dream lived. Memories that refuse to get categorized, jump into suitcases, get themselves a ticket and travel with me back. Memories that jerk at my hand and tell me- “Stay back, you moron. We were all born here. We want you to relive those times with us!”
Living life to the hilt, finding new ways of seeing and thinking, growing a whole-new-me from the seed that I was- Ahmedabad offered me everything like a Good Samaritan.
I’ve found many new things- from within the crannies of me; I have discovered strength and spirit, from around; some friends for a lifetime, from the place, a beginning in a journey of knowledge. There has been so much learnt and unlearnt, so much loved and gained, and some lost forever in this place.
Every inch of wall, in my nest of a C-201, has stories to tell. Of tears shed, my tryst with loneliness, fatigue, fear; also in those swirls of red, yellow and blue are many many tales of mirthful evenings, happy movie-watching, art and poetry, heart to heart talks, dreams dreamt, got and lost, and a gradual growing up I’m slowly sensing within.
I came here a jumping stone trying to be everywhere, dancing with joy. I’m leaving as a more rounded stone, aware that I could either be a jewel or a door-stopper, and in this knowledge have slowed down and am looking at myself differently.
The city has made me independent, confident and happy. There are little memory notes I’ve left behind in many loved spots. I’ll come back to them, time and again, rewind my tapes and play those times again in my mind! Yes Ahmedabad, our love will never be over…
A wonderful journey’s major part comes to an end. I’m one diploma film away from finishing my course here. NID has given me wings, I’m going to flap them and try them out. They look shiny, not sturdy yet; they look fancy and pretty, not beautiful yet; but they are my wings all the same. I’m going to try and fly…and yes, fall many times and hurt and cry, but then I’d have still moved a few baby-flaps ahead!
#2 Upper berth II AC
Travelling by train from Ahmedabad is never really a pleasant journey. Yes, even by AC II tier! Especially when you know that the next time you go back, there is no hostel! AND when there are kids around!
Generally talkingbubblingenthusiastic me, hibernates into her quiet phase in trains. For fear that little noisy kids would find my lap more comfortable, or would insist I play silly games through a journey of a day and a half.
Beautiful dimples MUST NOT deceive one into believing that angelic souls nest within. They screech if you want to affectionately test-drive your fat paws to pinch-vroom on their cheeks.
And screech they will for the rest of the journey as helpless papas and mamas cajole, plead and beg them to stop. Surprisingly, I fail to recall my sister or myself ever going through such a phase in our lives where we embarrassed our parents with our rock-music decibel-ed yells.
Generation gap exists, even between 5 and 25!
Armed with an i-pod and a wonderful book to read, I steer myself to safety from their innocent eyes that plead me to smile at them.
Kid loving me dies for those few hours. The only second I let my guard down and smile divinely at them is when they pick their bags to leave. I wave a thrilled bye, much to the bewilderment of the kid and the parents prodding him/her in the spine to “tell a bye to aunty/sister/madam”- whichever they think fit!
It is fun to hide behind a mask of quietude in trains and observe accents, talks and behaviours in people around. A mild voyeurism. A perverse pleasure. An escape. People forget me in the background of the window berth water bottle holder and let their guard down, to nudge one another affectionately, look greedily at a packet of chips someone else is munching and to whisper something rude about a co-passenger to one another.
There are also times when I don a complete myself, chit chat with fellow passengers, and occasionally, even sketch them and have a jolly good time.
And once in a while, it is a selective truth telling time, to creepy middle aged men with blurred intentions and garrulous friendliness that trigger my suspicion alarm instantly! To them I tell white lies, and abruptly turn away if the conversation gets too uncomfortably long. Or like this time, excuse myself to get down to fetch some snacks, so that the man gets the hint and heads back to his bay, family and whatever of life he has!
It is quite a fascinating thing- these train journeys. Meet. Greet. Leave. A short lifespan lived in a few hours.
#3 Veththakozhambu calling
Egmore, in Tamil. After nearly-36 hours of stretching on the upper berth for fear that kids would nudge me every two seconds of my ‘God of Small things’ reading, and make me muddle up my Velutha for a Baby Kochamma! *shudder*
Appa and Peppa(periappa) awaiting in the station. Delight welcoming me in their eyes.
Ahmedabad seems like a distant dream. Loving arms, veththakozhambu and urlakazhangu, smell of my street, friends to talk to and fill in the gaps that have emerged from then to now, neighbouring shops where I can pick dazzling earrings for downright cheap prices loom ahead in a well-edited, trailer-esque manner.
Baby flaps, yes. But, Baby first. To float in the loving womb of home.
*contented sigh*
Pic : StooMathiesen – http://www.flickr.com/photos/stoo57/
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