The frame is inside a moving train's ladies compartment, yes a heavily crowded one. Luckily I happened to get a seat. Suddenly, past two stations, there was a certain commotion beside. A woman with her typical Bengali accent was someway consoling a girl standing beside her using broken Hindi pieces. One oily long braid was all I could see, as she stood positioning her back at me. Trying my best to acknowledge the event, I saw an eye cornered with oozing tears. Lending my ears for details, I got to acknowledge the matter.
A tribal girl has got on the train along with her father. A male passenger (not a hawker) has entered the ladies compartment! Oh yes, it's the postmodern age, an age of protest and revolution; being impacted upon this tribal aged man. Insulted and being shouted aloud, the father escorted himself someway at a corner beside the door. The ultimate impact being a daughter, separated from his old father. The father being threatened to be taken away by the railway cop, her black kohl bathed in tears.
All I did was to silently thank the Bengali woman, who tried to ease out the girl and consolidate her that nothing will be wrong. Sarcastically curving my lips, I settled back writing down this piece in the train itself.
A tribal girl has got on the train along with her father. A male passenger (not a hawker) has entered the ladies compartment! Oh yes, it's the postmodern age, an age of protest and revolution; being impacted upon this tribal aged man. Insulted and being shouted aloud, the father escorted himself someway at a corner beside the door. The ultimate impact being a daughter, separated from his old father. The father being threatened to be taken away by the railway cop, her black kohl bathed in tears.
All I did was to silently thank the Bengali woman, who tried to ease out the girl and consolidate her that nothing will be wrong. Sarcastically curving my lips, I settled back writing down this piece in the train itself.
No comments:
Post a Comment