A journey back to where it all started…
I finally got a chance to spread my wings. Leaving behind years of suffocation with no regrets: nuns and parents watching over my shoulder, a bell that programmed me to listen, to pray, to eat and to confess, competitive classmates, coaching classes, and finally the big entrance exam which I royally flunked to my parents’ utter disappointment. For me, getting admitted for B. tech in Kasaragod meant escaping, living 500 miles away from home for the next 4 years. The choice came with conflicting opinions:
“Kasaragod, it’s the other side of the world …”
“Maybe you should take a gap year and try again …”
“Land of the infamous Kasargod Kadar Bhai …Our own smuggling goon”
I decided to take a leap and carve my own future. Off to the land of the Bekal fort with burkha-clad blue-eyed women, Aravind Swamy look-alikes singing ‘Uyire’,’Uyire’, and blue waters of the Arabian sea. 17 years, a bag on my back, and an overnight train journey in Malabar Express. It was my version of ‘Shawshank Redemption’ and the beginning of the happiest years of my life.
Malabar Express ran every night from Trivandrum to Mangalore – a college on wheels with hundreds of us crammed up in every nook and cranny, with tickets and without, sitting, standing, sleeping, and passionately debating on everything under the sun. My own journey started from Mavelikkara at 8:00 PM and ended in Kasaragod around 9:00 AM. By the time I boarded, the Trivandrum gang was already settled in and waiting to meet and greet. There were the Trivandrum, Ernakulam, and Calicut gangs representing the three big cities- everyone from stations in between, like me, pledged allegiance to one of them based on who our BFFs were. Being so far away from home, we built stronger bonds with our friends, greater feelings of companionship leaning on each other for support. At 17, we turned into lovers, therapists, and counselors overnight.
By the time I boarded, ‘Reppu’ Rajesh from Trivandrum and Arun from Munroe Thuruthu would already be on the train. Hit Kottayam, it was time for Rajan and Jackson to hop on. The train collected friends at every stop. We waited for our own nightingale, Priya P.T, to board from Ernakulam so we could hear her sing our favorite songs. We passed through tunnels and crossed bridges, our music blending in with the rhythm of train engines. For every trip my pops reserved a sleeping berth for me, hoping that I would get a good night’s sleep. Little did he know that we never slept, instead collected memories at each stop. I saw Aluva Shivaratri, Bharatha Puzha, and the rising North Star amidst the lullaby of Malabar express. There were lovers who made out in the top berth- first kisses, first touches and there were spies who peeped in and gossiped, there were ghost stories shared under the moonlight, and safety pins to ward off wandering hands. We traveled for laughter and a good sunrise.
Whispering nights gave way to loud mornings in no time, with the hustle and bustle of street vendors- ‘Kaapi, Kaapi, Kaapi…’, on and on they went. My heart grew wings in the morning awaiting the most exciting part of my journey: daybreak over Ezhimala. I got up early and hurried as though I was waiting for the school’s first bell, got my coffee, and was all set. If you never tried hanging out of a train car, you have definitely missed the best experience offered by Indian Railway. One foot out, holding on to the rails, wind in my hair, creating my own Titanic moment – picture perfect except for handsome Jack Dawson to hold my hands. The view changes from dark green foliage to the never-ending mangroves of Ezhimala with the distant blue, green Arabian Sea. Then the morning sun pops out. Sunrise brings a whole new look and light to the backwaters: a golden aura. The never-ending array of plant roots sticking out of the water with migratory birds flying all around and fishermen spreading their nets. A view to die for.
I sat there enjoying the world from the edge of a moving love train, hopes and dreams of the future, without worries of supplementary exams, internals, heartbreaks, and love feats. It seems trivial now, but back then, our lovers’ smiles made the world stand still and a single tear broke our hearts. Lucky me, I experienced it all without leaving any space for regrets.
Nileshwaram welcomed me with piping hot poori masala and chai. Time to pack up and get down at Kanhangad and catch a bus to the ladies hostel in Poinachi and from there to the 2nd hour of Sabu Sir’s lecture in Theory of Computation. The nonsense complexities of an alien curriculum- Markov’s Algorithm, Combinatory Logic, and Turing machines- the perfect combination of topics to catch up on my lost sleep. Fading sounds of snores, sighs, dropped books, and pens in the background- I blend into the daily routines of college life. The cycle repeats again in two months, but this time we catch the Parasuram Express and enjoy the daytime views of the Malabar coast. My life in Kasaragod is my benchmark for happiness – everything experienced before and after measured against it and judged, few ever crossing the bar.
Years later, I traveled across oceans and found my home in Chicago. One day during a snowstorm while sharing life stories over hot tea, my husband bragged on and on about his bachelor journeys: the sunsets in Sedona, waterfalls of Yosemite, colors of the Grand Canyon, blue mountains of the Rockies, and night lights of Las Vegas. I felt small and inexperienced. I interrupted, looked into his eyes, and winked: “But then, you never saw the sunrise over Ezhimala! Long way to go my man! Long, long way to go…!” `
Priya Ann