Parallel tracks

Let me make it clear: this story is inspired by a real life incident. But due to many reasons, I was not able to complete this for a long time. And as the incident started to fade from my mind, the story thread also lost some of its impact. Nevertheless, I decided to publish to now only because of its context and closeness to reality. And most importantly I am publishing it without any reviews. So brickbats are welcome!!!

It was night by the time I finished work that Friday. The review meeting which was supposed to end by 6 stretched well beyond 7.30. And it went rather bad. Feeling miserable, I picked up my bag and lunch box to join the crowd, most of them looking as haggard as me. The mobile showed 5 miscalls from my wife. I called her up and wearily explained about another late night. I could hear the incoherent babbling of my one year old in the background. He had recently uttered his first almost-perfect ‘mma’. I smiled in spite of myself. He always had this effect on me. The dark clouds of lethargy slowly drifted as I visualized his toothless grin. I wondered when he would grow his first set of teeth. May be after a couple of weeks. The very thought filled me with a sense of tranquillity. I realized how much I missed watching him grow up. May be I should take a break simply to spend some time with him, I thought.
My mood was upbeat when I got into the last general compartment of the local train. The compartment was almost empty. There were only five passengers, including me. All of us sat scattered around the compartment, each preferring a small refuge of their own. I fished out my IPod and switched on. I had not updated the songs since a very long time; still I listened to the same old numbers, more out of habit than anything else. Moreover, it provided me with an excuse for not responding to others who might occupy my adjacent seat. One simple way to avoid unnecessary conversations. I liked to be left alone. Soon, the rhythms and the beats shut the outside world out and I was lost all to myself.
They got in at Singaperumal Koil station. The woman and the kid. They sat down on the floor of the train near the entrance, leaning onto the back of the seats. She was a typical street woman with unruly rough hair and skinny frame. She wore a dirty and tattered sari of cheap cotton, which would have been green at one point of time. Now it looked like grey at places and had visible holes and stains. A single toe-ring glinted at her feet, the only ornament. Her expression was forlorn and from her puffy, reddened eyes it was evident that she had been crying for a long time. She seemed unaware of the presence of the kid. Then my eyes fell on him. He must have been around two. His limbs were smeared with dirt. He wore a tiny brown shirt with most of the buttons missing and was naked from the middle, except for a black thread around the waist.
His demeanour was totally different from his mother’s. He kept on gurgling happily, even as his mother played no attention. There was no unhappiness or bitterness in his laughter. He seemed perfectly at peace with his impoverished existence. I was curiously observing him. One moment, he was busy playing peek-a-boo with his mother’s sari covering his head. The next moment, his whole attention would in the multi-coloured candy wrappers littered around. After a while, I could sense all the passengers silently watching his antics along with me. His intermittent gurgling and laughter filled the otherwise silent compartment.
At Urappakkam, the Ticket Examiner got in. I was surprised. Usually there would be no checking in local trains. In fact, in my 3 years of train journey, I had been asked for the ticket no more than may be a dozen times. My heart skipped a beat. I was sure that the woman doesn’t have any ticket with her. I didn’t know where they were going, but I somehow wanted them to reach there. Without any trouble. The Examiner went around checking the tickets and monthly passes. When he passed me, I could sense the faint smell of liquor. I looked up. He was a bulky, foreboding looking man, with blood-shot eyes. After checking my pass, he went straight to the entrance, and noticed them.
“Ticket irukka ungitta??”
“---------“
“Ungitta than kette. Ticket irukka illaya??”
“...........”
“ticket illanna fine kodu. Athukkum mudiyadhna keela irangu seekram.”
“..........”
“naan enna sonnen unakku puriyalaya? Irangi ticket eduthu adutha trainla eru. Ippo irangu.”
What followed was a volley of abuses. The entire compartment was looking at the spectacle. She sat there silently, tears flowing down her cheeks. Why doesn’t she beg him to spare this one time, I thought angrily. The kid had stopped playing and was looking at them with frightened eyes. She remained silent. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up and went to the Examiner.
sir, vittudunga sir, indha oru vaatti vittidunga, nightla enga povanga ivanga.”
“appadinna neenga 1500 roopa fine kettunga, naan vituduren.”
“enna sir ippadi sollureenga.. 1500 romba jaasthi sir, avalavu roova illa sir...”
“unnala kodukka mudiyumna kodu. illanna poya .”
Defeated, I went back to my seat. 1500 was way too much to spend on them. After all, they were unknown entities that exist in another world that is so different from my own. Out of humanity, I tried to help them as much as I could and unfortunately it didn’t work out. I told myself not to feel responsible. I knew this incident will fade from my memory after a couple of days. I tried to think of about the upcoming weekend which I knew would lift my spirits. The train was approaching the next station and the woman stood up. I could not help but stare at her totally blank face. Again, I felt pangs of regret.
I felt my mobile vibrating in the pocket. It was a message from my wife:
“Hey when will you reach? Chiku is asking for appa...”
I looked out of the window. They were standing there in the shadows. As the train started gaining momentum, the child’s face was illuminated for a fraction of a second: he was smiling and waving, to no one in particular.

PS: Thanks Anand, for correcting the Tamil.