Monday, September 17, 2007

The week had good parts and the bad. Sometimes they morphed, sometimes you sing Lucile, you know how the lines go, lucillllllllle?
Like missing the train on Monday last.
You watch fumbling, open mouthed as the last compartment vanishes into the distance, in despair wring your hands, scramble up and down several flights of stairs huffin puffin, queue up with five minutes to spare for the next train and emerge victorious with a ticket. A second class ticket, standing room only for two hours and some, in the corridor by the open door, watching the world go by.
*Vasai creek is a silver sheet early morning, dotted with fishing boats
*Sunshine showers generous on a field in green, a benevolent drenched yellow rain past jade black green
*Mist lifts off a hill dreamily, curling at the edges, this is the side the sunshine hasn’t reached as yet, and you can just about see the edges of the hill there.
*Watch a therapist with miraculously clean hands do emergency sujok on a co-passenger, and then she talks about sadhana and priorities, and you’re beginning just to understand.
*Being irresistibly drawn to a banyan tree on a back road, a track to nowhere, only to find a prehistoric site, fluttering flag and all, the silence of the fields and a distant bird-call.

Like missing the train on Monday last. And waiting for it endlessly on wednesday. And finishing off office stuff that needs to be done on the rest of the days, not to mention swirling dust storms in the margins that you try and duck, no, not my battle.
Am back.



I love how you started off seeming like the missing train was bad..and how everything just flowed to good..
what is the emergency sujok? not quite sure I understand that one..

ahhh to be on a back road somewhere...sounds tempting and peaceful.
I'm glad you're back!

shiv said...

Wonder how you scramble up a crowded train with standing space and manage to leave US breathless with your vivid descriptions....

Tink said...

And I thought driving in rush-hour was bad. I'd be a complete wreck trying to catch a train.

Portia said...

beautiful, striking contrast! i loved the image of the banyan tree...and as always the palette of colours.

Anonymous said...

Lucile - you mean B.B. King's guitar?

Welcome back! With all your energy, all the images. Thank you for allowing me to stand with you in that corridor and watching the world go by!

austere said...

sujok is a kind of accupressure and magnet therapy, korean, I think, but it helped that lady who'd forgotten her medication for blood pressure. Yes, all was fine by and by. :)

Shiv- ty! Squeezed near that door, I did see views I'd never never see fm a first class tinted window.

tink- ladies second class unreserved is wayy more interesting though, strangers share their life stories...thanks much for coming by.Now come again, ok?

portia- so beyootiful that was, all silver aglitter.and sunshine rain.

mago- kenny rogers? "you picked a fine time to leave me lucilllllle" in that awesome velvet're welcome welcomen kindly mr mago the genius proust whatnot. :)

PipeTobacco said...


Your poetic words are beautiful. I especially like the illiteration to the train. The train as a mode of travel is such a unique experience. So different than car, bus, or plane.

You have mentioned on my site that you feel I am belittling myself. I apologize, that is not my intention. I am trying to only express what it is that I do feel and believe about myself.

You also mention Swami Vivekananda. I have heard of him, but am not as aware as I should be. I will be looking for him on the Internet, but was wondering if you have a recommendation as to which of his books/writings might be a good starting point for me?

Thank you for your friendship!


Anonymous said...

Ha,ha,ha. Oh Austere, your starting to frighten me. I did not realize I was playing Lucille so loud you could here it in India! Honest, cross my heart of whatever. I have Kenny Rogers "Greatest Hits" and that is one of my favorite songs. I used to think he was saying "four hundred children and a plow with no field...", eventually I learned, "four hungry children..."

I presently don't know anyone better then you, who can blend the old and the new world of India together so well. Your description is as I remember it. Took an eight hour, 2nd class ticket ride to Raichur, Kanartaka. Tried to avoid using the bathroom as long as I could.

Why do they think women can pee into a hole the same diameter as a coke can? Thank god for feet risers! I am not that talented, even if the train had been holding still.

Take Care,

austere said...

PT- The collected works, a hefty tome. And everytime you do that, I will tell you. Maybe you could start with this speech to the conference on world religions.

PROXIMA- Four hundred children! :))OMG. heh.chuckle. ty.

now for the loo there is a strategy. Use the indian style ones, so minimal surface contact. if you use the western style ones, then bend, contort, but dont sit.

I can only imagine how shocking this would be for an amrikan.