[Reader-list] How human beings communicate ... in trains - Part I - Expose

[Zainab Bawa]

How human beings communicate ... in trains

It is very interesting to observe how ladies communicate in trains. They do 
not always have the best mechanisms to communicate. And they do sometimes 
have very good mechanisms to communicate. Some women can be quite terrible 
and horrible in communicating with each other, especially in a situation of 
an argument where tensions normally soar very high. What happens when an 
argument takes place in the train? When an argument takes place, suddenly, 
the space in the train loses its character of anonymity and the space 
shrinks! When I say space shrinks, it means that suddenly, all eyes turn 
towards the site of the argument/fight and the ladies involved become very 
visible. A while ago, they were anonymous; but now, they are prominent 
figures and all attention is focused on them.

Sometimes even though the eyes do not turn to the parties involved in the 
fight the women involved (particularly the defeated woman) feel watched. For 
them, the space in the train shrinks.

The underlying, fundamental issue in an argument/fight in the train is about 
victory, even if this victory is false. It is fundamentally and literally 
about “who has the last word???” And the person who has the last word is the 
hero (in the case of ladies compartment, let’s say heroine!) of the day. 
Ladies can fight, and they can fight really hard and tough. Ego is extremely 
important for them (not that this is not the case among men). But in a 
crowd, an argument/fight ‘reveals’ the person who is at fault. In trains, 
most fights end up being ‘exposes’ and to be exposed in a crowd is the most 
embarrassing experience. The ‘exposes’ can very violent, very, very 
confrontational. Then, it becomes a matter of pride for the female who is 
‘exposed’ and to save her pride, she would do anything (as Meat Loaf had 
sung, ‘And I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that’, in the train 
I sing ‘And, I would do anything for EGO, and I WILL DO THAT!). In most 
situations, women want to save their pride. There are few instances of 
situations in the ladies compartment where I have seen women at fault in the 
argument admitting that they were in fact on the erring side. Here is where 
I feel that a lot of us, men and women, are not equipped with the best 
mechanisms to deal with such situations and ourselves.

The hurt, anger, agitation and spite of the argument stays even after the 
event is over. The defeated woman wants to justify herself because she 
cannot tolerate the exposure. The victorious woman walks out, feeling more 
powerful (in a lot of cases). And each of these emotions stays with us 
because in our environments and in our times, we have not really learnt how 
to empty ourselves. We have become conditioned to carry the past with us, 
and this past includes years and months of anger, agitation, vengeance and 
what not! (This is what I have begun calling trash can [pun intended 
seriously!!!].) Our memories are unfortunately quite strong for such 
instances.

I hate exposure too. In fact, I would die of shame if I were to be exposed 
at any point in the ladies compartment. When I feel exposed, I literally 
feel naked. I feel that my clothes have been taken off and everyone is able 
to see me naked. How horrible I feel in such situations!!! I hate myself and 
everybody around me. But then, I ask myself, what prevents me from being 
honest with myself? Why cannot I confront myself? Why am I wearing so many 
layers of pretensions? What is it in myself, and in my surroundings that 
makes me so?

I am still at a loss to understand what kind of spaces do we need where we 
can communicate honestly first with ourselves, and secondly, with others 
around us. Why do we have to struggle to give so many explanations?

I share with you some experiences from my train journeys, and hey wait, 
there is lots more to say about human communication, so the words do not 
just stop here!!!

Exposes in the Trains

The Chikoos Are Not Sweet

22/12/2004
Kurla to Byculla – 6:00 PM in the evening

This is a pleasant journey because I am traveling against the traffic. It is 
6:00 PM in the evening. This is the time when most of the crowd moves in the 
opposite direction, towards the suburbs. I got into a train which was quite 
comfortable. I acquired a seat for myself. There was a guy selling 
handkerchiefs in the compartment. But, I guess no one was interested in 
buying handkerchiefs at that hour of the day.

As the train moved from Dadar, a eunuch entered the train. Because it was 
only one eunuch (and it seemed quite decent with no intentions to harass 
anyone), no one seemed particularly disturbed by its presence. I saw it 
moving here and there; it looked very confused. (I call eunuchs ‘it’ because 
I don’t know whether to call them he or she.) It brushed very closely past a 
middle-aged Maharashtrian lady (like a close shave!), touching her slightly. 
She made a face, like as if something dirty had touched her. In Marathi, I 
would call the expression on her face as that of ‘ghruna’ (disgust!). The 
eunuch kept moving around it finally parked itself by the door, opposite to 
where I was sitting.

A young rural female vendor was selling chikoos. They smelled very sweet. In 
the evening times, vendors selling eatables are very visible in the train. 
Many tired (ladies’) souls buy stuff to munch on their way back home.

There was a lady sitting by the seat next to mine. She looked a bit ill. She 
had neatly packed herself up in woolens and she wearing socks! She stared at 
the chikoos. The vendor selling them asked her, “Aanth rupaiye ka aanth. 
Lene ka hai kya?” (Eight rupees for eight. Want to buy?) This lady perhaps 
did not really want to buy the chikoos. But she was thinking to herself: ‘If 
I can gets eight pieces of the fruit for five bucks, then it wouldn’t be a 
bad buy even if I don’t really need them!’ She started examining the 
chikoos. In the meanwhile, the vendor made one sale. The vendor asked the 
lady, “Lene ka hai kya?” (Wanna buy?) The lady said, “They don’t look so 
sweet. How about giving me 8 pieces for five rupees?” The vendor was a bit 
irritated. She said, “Kya bolti hai re?!?! Yeh asli maal hai. Le, ek piece 
kha ke dekh,” (What are you saying!?!? This is genuinely good stuff. Here, 
eat a piece and then tell me!) saying this, the vendor dexterously cut a 
piece of the chikoo and gave it to the lady to eat. Now, the lady was a bit 
embarrassed. The vendor extended the cut piece to the lady. The lady tasted. 
She really did not want to buy the chikoos, now not only because she did not 
need them, but also because her pride had been hurt! She tasted the chikoo 
and said, “It is not all that sweet!”

The eunuch was watching all this drama. It said to the lady, “Kya dekhti hai 
re?” (What are you seeing?) The lady thought that the eunuch was asking her 
why she was staring at it when in fact she was NOT staring at it. She 
responded angrily, “Kya kya dekhti?” (What, what are you seeing?) The eunuch 
calmly replied, “Are you examining whether the chikoos are sweet? What 
exactly are you doing?” The lady replied, “They are not that sweet.” The 
vendor was thoroughly irritated by this time. She said angrily, “The chikoos 
are sweet. This lady is only fibbing!”

Now, the lady was even more embarrassed. Her pride was being stabbed to 
death!!! She defended herself and said, “I am sick. I don’t have flavour in 
my mouth.” “Kya bolti hai (what are you saying),” the vendor said to the 
lady. She turned around to the eunuch and told it, “Le, tu ek piece khake 
dekh, (here, you take a piece and eat and tell me)”, saying this the vendor 
cut a piece and handed it to the eunuch. The eunuch tasted the chikoo and 
said, “Sahi hai! Kya mitha hai! Sahi hai re! ” (Truly, this is genuine 
stuff. It’s really sweet!) Sure enough, the fruit was sweet!

The vendor moved to the middle section of our big ladies compartment (which 
is divided into three sections with three doors) and shouted loud for the 
lady to hear, “You did not want to buy and hence you created such a fuss!” 
Her words were definitely truer than truth. Now, the lady felt totally 
exposed. She tried to defend herself before us (about six ladies were 
sitting scattered around her), and she said, “No, no! They were really not 
sweet.” The vendor did not care for those words, and for the lady, this only 
added further to her anger and humiliation.

The eunuch got off at the next station. I moved towards the door. Four 
ladies joined me at the door as all of us prepared to get off at Byculla. 
The ladies were talking among themselves when a fast train came speeding on 
the parallel track. Seeing the train, the ladies squealed in delight, “See, 
this fast train caught up with us! So nice!”

As I got off the train, I began to think to myself about the squealing. 
Time, you govern us so much here, in Mumbai. I can hate you, or I can love 
you, but I cannot, cannot ignore you!

[I dedicate this incident to the hurt lady in the train. I hope time will 
heal her wounds.]

Exposes in the Trains

“Please Push”
21/01/2004

VT to Byculla – 7:30 PM in the evening

Today was the last day of the World Social Forum. In the next half an hour, 
there would have been a deluge of people (from WSF) in the trains, wanting 
to get back at home. Thankfully, I reached home before this deluge took over 
the train.

I had caught the train at its starting point i.e. VT. Hush! After a hard day 
of traveling through the city in the trains, I was finally making my way 
back home and great god, I found a seat for myself. I remember god in times 
of absolute need and distress. When I desperately need a seat in a terribly 
jammed and crowded ladies compartment, I call on god. Else, I don’t have 
very much interest in him. (Is it because I am a feminist!?!?!)

When I entered the train, I parked myself besides two ladies who were 
sitting cozily. I thought they were decent companions for such a short 
journey. A fashionable workingwoman came and sat before me. A little girl 
was selling lipstick pencils. The fashionable lady was quite interested in 
buying some lipstick pencils and she was engrossed in examining the colours 
and the tones, totally oblivious of all that was happening around her. A 
late forties aged Christian lady came and sat next to me. Now, we were four 
women in a seat meant for three. This is nothing novel in the train. In 
fact, if ladies find that only three ladies are seated on the seat (which is 
actually meant for three), they will come and tap the shoulder of the lady 
sitting on the outside and gesture, “Please shift/push in.” It is almost 
like if three women are sitting on the seat for three and it is a crowded 
train, then this is an absolute waste of space. The women can move their 
butts, squeeze in a bit, and share the privilege of the seat with another 
lesser mortal. In this situation, the fourth person asking for space is a 
legitimate right, even if the others don’t like the fact of accommodating 
the fourth person and are making faces at the fourth person.

So, the Christian woman came and sat next to me. When she sat next to me, 
she asked me to push a bit further in so that she would not have to sit on 
one butt through her journey. I gestured to the ladies sitting next to me to 
move a bit because this fourth lady wants some space to sit. The lady 
sitting right inside, at the corner looked angrily at the Christian woman 
and said, “Can’t you see? There is no place to move in!” The Christian lady 
felt embarrassed and said in retaliation, “Itna to jagah hai. Phir andar 
kyun nahi jaati, (There is so much space. Then why are you not moving 
inside?)” and she began muttering to herself.

In the meanwhile, the fashionable woman sitting opposite me had bought one 
piece of lipstick pencil and she was now engaged in buying black colour nail 
polish from the little girl. An old woman selling oranges was screaming at 
top of her voice. She was trying hard to sell her oranges. I said to the 
Christian woman calmly, “Don’t worry. I am going to get off at Byculla and 
then you can occupy my seat.” The Christian woman felt a bit embarrassed. 
She said to me, “Actually a relative of my friend has died and I am going to 
the funeral.” I felt this was pointless information for me. I had nothing to 
do with her background/context. Why was she giving me an explanation?

The lady selling oranges screamt and asked the fashionable lady, “Chaihiye 
kya? (Want?)” The fashionable lady was irritated. She said, “No!” She 
screamt and asked the Christian woman, “Why don’t you answer?” The Christian 
woman said, “Arre, what is it? I don’t want your oranges!” I thought the 
orange selling woman was just irritating the Christian woman and having fun 
in the chaos. She was also trying to get attention for her fruit to sell!

On the other three-seater seat next to ours, a space got empty and the 
Christian woman quickly jumped to that, more comfortable seat. The corner 
lady kept saying loudly, “Where was I to push? Out of the train or out of 
the window?” She was agitating the Christian woman. The Christian woman was 
provoked. She said to the people around, “What the hell! I just asked her to 
push and she made such a fuss.” Then, she said to the corner lady, “This is 
not the first time I am traveling in trains. I have traveled before. You 
must be a novice who does not know how to travel.” The corner lady turned a 
deaf ear (literally!) to this remark. She said, waving a whiff of air, “Let 
her speak what she wants. She thinks that she knows it all!” The Christian 
lady kept muttering and muttering, angrily.

Then I don’t know what happened. I got off at Byculla.

[This narrative is dedicated to the Christian woman and the corner lady. I 
hope they too do not remember what happened between them.]

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