The Journey that Scarred us for Life

Find our Triund adventures here

Around this time last year, Gowri and I, still reeling from our Triund adventure, decided to pack our bags again. Archana had gone back to Chennai, so the two of us decided to travel to Rishikesh over the weekend. We planned to take a train to Haridwar and then a bus to Rishikesh. We didn't make it there. But that journey, which ended as quickly as it began, scarred us for life.

Our special train to Haridwar was from Delhi station. After a 45 minute delay, the still empty train, made its way to Shahdara, the next station. Within seconds, our reserved 72-seater coach was invaded by a saffron-clad humanity. If I’m allowed to say so, the train was ‘overflowing’ with people - they stood at the doors, hung precariously outside with their hands tightly wound around the window bars and squeezed into the smelly toilets. Every seat had a minimum or three travelers and Gowri’s lower berth was also invaded. Some huddled at her feet and others found space at the edge of her seat.

Saffron clad travelers

I had the upper berth and through an aggressive shouting match I was able to hold off people from climbing in with me. I knew that the law was on my side. My seat was reserved, and I had no plans of undertaking an overnight journey squashed between ticket-less travelers. The railway police failed to maintain order and more people tried to get in. As the train couldn't move we were still in Shahdara.

I shut my eyes to block the image, but couldn't do much about the din of the crammed space. Shouted slogans, loud conversations, prayers and somewhere at a distance, the words of the raunchy song, ‘Munni Badnam Hui’. A hand phone on speaker. The collective breath of over 300 odd people, packed like sardines into a single compartment, intensified. I also couldn't block the feeling that they were all eyeing my berth, waiting for me to drop guard. Time barely crawled and I held my breath. 

And then, with an inertia that threw us off guard, the train moved. A late evening breeze made its way through the tightly packed coach. I dared to breathe again. I looked towards my friend - she who hates crammed spaces and crowds, an agoraphobic. Her face didn't reveal much, but she sat still, her gaze fixed on something, and I knew she was struggling to keep her composure. It was past 11.30pm and the train pulled into Ghaziabad station. I shouted, “Gowri, Erangidalama?” Shall we get off? The relief on her face answered that question.

Walking with the Kavads  

I still don’t know how we managed to get off that train, but we did. The empty Ghaziabad station posed our next challenge. How do we get back home at this late hour? Whom do we call? Are taxis safe,? After all Ghaziabad ranks high on the crime-rate map. We decided against the taxis and made a few calls to friends and family, and then waited. Passerbys looked at us suspiciously - two disheveled women seated underneath a florescent bulb on the top step leading down to a platform, in the middle of the night. We didn't paint a pretty picture, but we pretended to not care. That night we lived our worst nightmare. 

But we did learn an important travel lesson. It is not always about 'where to go', 'what to do' or 'how to get there', but also about the socio-political, cultural and climatic diversity of the region in question. And that it is just not advisable to travel sleeper class on North Indian trains. 

As I write this post, the ‘Kavadiyas’ are once again on the roads, heading to the annual Kavad Mela at Haridwar. Dressed in yellow or saffron, with a red bandanna on their head and a coloured ‘kavad’ balanced on their shoulders, millions of devotees will make their way to Haridwar. If you want to know more about this, check here. In the light of recent events at Bodh Gaya and Uttarakhand, security will be a key concern this year. Garhwal Deputy Inspector-General of Police has issued a statement that sale or consumption of liquor is prohibited as is blaring music or overcrowding in vehicles. 

Even then, unless it is an emergency plan your trip to the hills after the mela. (Photographs for reference only. Copyright: Google Images)

What awaited us in Haridwar

Fair is Foul and Foul is Fair

What are the odds?

The Hindu's Sunday Magazine has an article by Sriya Narayan, which is about how India became the first South Asian country to ban testing of cosmetic products on animals. It is a heart wringing piece, which goes into the details of how testing affects the animals in question. It almost made me want to swear off cosmetics. 

I say almost, because even the most basic sanitation products fall under this category – soaps, shampoos and conditioners. It went on to say that the evolved and educated Indian customer should email the company, in case the products they retail don’t have the Leaping Bunny insignia, a symbol for non-animal tested products. Let’s face facts. We are a nation of bargain hunters, and we don’t question the origins of a product. That aside, what I object to most in this article, is the use of the word ‘evolved’ before the word customer.

The Indian Advertising Industry has proved time and time again, with their blunt and thoughtless campaigns, that we are a bunch of television viewing idiots. When we shop, we leave our brains out of the decision making and wear our hearts on our sleeves. If a good looking actor wearing a bright yellow or pink noodle strap dress, tells us that this product will save our marriage, face or careers, we buy both the product and the argument. 

At a party last month, I met a diplomat from the Caribbean who had just moved to India. While his Asian wife and two daughters were trying to deal with the initial hiccups of the shift, he as a father was worried about something else. An hour- long TV show in India has a minimum of four commercials that advertise skin whitening products, he told me. This was a matter of concern, because he imagined that it wouldn't take long for his daughters to suggest that he start using a men’s fairness cream. And yes, we do have commercials for men's face washes and creams, with lead actors going to war about the effectiveness of their ‘fairness’ product.

Two tones fairer, now that's something

“I’m worried that my little girls will grow to be ashamed of their dark-skinned father," he said. “I considered writing a letter to the complaints department, but decided against it, because I am very new to the workings and systems of this country.” We understand sir. You belong to an ‘evolved’ society which takes pride in the diversity of its people. While we continue to look up to our ‘fair’ colonisers, even as they insist we pay dreadfully high security deposits for travel visas.

The last time I checked a certain Bollywood actor, who is known for her fitness regimes and diet plans, asks her boyfriend if he would continue to love her 'when' she becomes fat. And fat she will soon become, considering she 'cheated' on her diet and ate a deep fried something from his plate. He nods an affirmative, but just in case things turn nasty, Bipasha Basu decides to add warm water and honey to her daily routine. The voice-over in the ad say, ‘It is not just about him loving you; it is also about you, loving yourself!’ And now we have weight obsessed teenagers and couples going through a midlife crisis, making a beeline for Dabur honey. After all, love (even self-respect for that matter) is directly proportional to weight gain.

Save your love life

And have you seen that ad which has actor Mammootty offering a job to a beautiful candidate? He asks her if she had applied for the job earlier and then revelation strikes. “You changed your soap!” he says. Implying in no subtle language that confidence goes hand in hand with fair skin; which will then materializes into a job, the dearth of which is strongly felt in that State, which boasts of high literacy rate. Of course this is just one of those many advertisements which suggest that lady luck is selective about whom she smiles at. Hitler would be so proud if he knew that all of us brown Indians, are trying to live up to his Aryan dream of fair skin and maybe, blues eyes.

Did you change your soap?

So no, we don’t belong to a nation of ‘evolved’ customers. We don’t care if the bunny leaps or not. What we want are soaps, creams, face washes and honey, which will guarantee us love and/or a career. 

A word of advice to my Caribbean friend; even if you were to write letters or scream from the rooftop until you are hoarse, advertisements made for dummies, won’t change in the near future. But you can press the mute button during commercial breaks. So please don't hesitate to exercise that right. 

PS: Not all commercials are in bad taste. Some make me smile at their cleverness and I wish I was involved in the making of certain others.