Train Melodies

My college days, fifth semester, on my way back to Kothamangalam after a sweet vacation at home, a sunday afternoon. Those days there was Link Express to Chennai from Mangalore, and if I come by link, could catch Venad from Shornur, our only resort to south if Parashuram is missed early morning. At home, I put down my mother's request to carry food, which she already prepared, and packed in plantain leaves, hesitantly. I had a special affinity for food at Shornur station, men in grey coloured uniform and the packets they bring in long trays, with curd and sambhar and a typical pickle, the feel of having it in the vacant compartment of Venad, with the company of mid day breeze, i simply love that, and I had it many a times before. I said no to mother, she tried to hide the darkness on her face, why to quarrel when about leave for a long journey.
I had my 'Shornur meal' comfortably in a Venad compartment. Bought a 'Mathrubhumy' weekly, this too is the part of the custom, and dipped myself into it. 2:30 pm, engine gave a long siren, the train started moving, most the seats are yet to be filled, a fat old man came and sat next to me, the opposite seat was vacant. He started snoring in a low pitch but rhythamicaly in tune with the 'jhak jhak' sound of the train. I felt uncomfortable.

We sat in the first seat from the door, few minutes passed, I heared a low voice, from my back, the lines of the old devotional song "ashtami rohini naalilen manassoru..", sweet and steady, with a hearty frequency, I was overjoyed; I always loved the unofficial railway band, the orphan kids and women who sing for a few coins the passengers unwillingly threw, to make a living, to meet the ends. I expected a similar face there, turned back to have a look at that gifted soul. There stood a lady or should I call her a girl, she was defenitely younger than me, not more than twenty years of age, black scars presented by the hardships of the life clearly visible on that unusually little face of her, inside a linian sari, with a rough scarf covering the backside of her head, a child in her left hand, leaned on the door looking the fields outside, singing to herself, or for an unknown. "kodakkaar varnante adharangal chumbikkum...." she was singing with out noticing others, i felt like she doesnt care for any.

Couple of minutes passed, the song stopped, no it finished. I was so impressed, she sung it with that perfection, as if she were a proffessional. I didnt want to disturb the harmonic mood and equilibrium swinging in the air after the song to get disrupted by plunging into my rough articles in the magazine. I just allowed me to be like that for some time. She came and sat opposite to my seat, kept the large bag next to her, it was like the whole burden of her life kept inside, and her child in her lap.

I looked at her face, calm and serene, quite like the face of her child in a plum-dreamy sleep. I wished to listen more from that sweetness, dont know how she respond. I absorbed all the courage and in hesitant voice asked her to sing one more.

She stared!!!
I was struck for a while, tried to smile, words giggled in my throat, I looked hopeless, I thought I shudnt have.
But dramatically she transformed herself, her dark but solemn face blushed, she relaxed..smiled and sang " Cheerappoovukal kkumma kodukkum...neelakkuruvikale" I just closed my eyes and followed the tune, she sang as if she herself was the song, herself was the note, the tune, the pitch and each word of it. I felt an ecstacy here, more than anything else I like listening to melodies while on a travel, without any prior knowledge that this particular song will be played next. Music from a distant radio, a humming, was enough to make me happy and satisfied, I would always try to be silent enough to feel that unknown pleasure. I felt the same, was overjoyed, and thanked her, a ton.

I noticed she was not begging, she sang simply, sang because she loved it, sang coz I asked for, sang coz she had it in her, sang for some unknown satisfaction, for a devotion, not to gain anything, not to please anyone. The whole compartment was so peaceful, only the sound of the distant engine. A few minutes later she got down at Angamaly. Numerous times after that I listened to both the songs, in the gifted voice of K S Chitra, but never experienced that soothing happiness.