I woke up from a deep snooze with a feeling that a cat was watching me intently. I have a God given gift wherein I can and have slept off anywhere and everywhere without a second thought. I usually find myself wake up with people milling around me and me clutching my bag as if it’s going to be plundered.
I come awake on a train which I was on already so no surprises there. During that part of my life, I moved a lot on trains, buses, cycles and bikes. This journey was slightly different since I was seven months pregnant.
A little boy sat on the seat opposite me on the train. I had seen a similar cast of features, with the noble brow, magnolia clear skin, big but not protruding eyes, aquiline nose and strong jaw with a determined mouth to know this wasn’t an Indian. It was a face from the former land of Persia, or Iran.
I smiled, automatically. I said hi, to which the little boy nodded seriously and responded. He kept scrutinising me and told me, my stomach looked like a watermelon. It was weird but just that morning I had thought the same to myself while looking at my baby bump. Nothing could hide it, I didn’t try to hide it and entered rooms bump proudly leading the way. I ate whatever took my fancy, I slept and catnapped at random hours and in general did whatever everyone who came into my orbit told me. Not all of it was silly, a lot of it was smart stuff, and of course, people did mention that my bump would ride high or low depending on the baby’s gender.
So, both of us looked at the watermelon for a bit. I noticed my baby’s dad smoking near a door. He smiled and sent a thums up my way. I smiled back and noticed the Persian had noticed the interlude. He told me he had met the dad and asked me how old I was. I told him I was 21. He told me his brother was 21. He pointed to another part of the compartment, where two young men were sitting, watching us. He told me they were S and R. He was X. I told him, it’s interesting all of you are named after Persian kings. He smiled at me and said, that he lived in Pune, India. He also informed me, Persia was no longer Persia, it was Iran. His family had left Iran years ago and come to India. He was born in the port of Navsari and since he was the only one in the family who was born on Indian soil he was something special at home. I noticed his brothers’ slightly worried looks. Since he was probably only 10, I guessed the elder boys had gotten used to being default parents too.
I mean, they did try to call him back to their designated seats. But he was a natural born traveller and had gone to every part of the general compartment, he got shooed out of the first compartment since the TC recognised him. He had spoken to everyone around him in the adjoining seats and chosen to wait for me to wake up from my snooze so he could speak to me.
I was a bit surprised. I had been reading up Dr. Spock and speaking to mothers with little kids. They mentioned burping, poop colours, gas, and foods that I could feed the baby and how I must keep my schedule organised around the baby so my household didn’t fall apart. And yet surprisingly none of them mentioned what does one do if one’s child is naturally spirited. I idly wondered what X’s mom was like. Having a last baby who was as garrulous as this one must be wringing her out. Turned out he was allowed to rule the roost. His house was his kingdom and his mom pretty much let him have his way.
By now it was lunch time. My baby bump growled, loudly. Actually my stomach was guilty of that. But he was struck by this rumble. He told me, your watermelon is hungry. I grimaced. I hated feeling hungry. He told me we would go look for some food. I told him, we are not exactly wandering the Sahara, why are we foraging for food? It will come to us. He gave me a stern look. He recognised growling tummies, since he worked up a very healthy appetite. We walked to the pantry car where we weren’t allowed to be. He told them I was his friend and I was hungry and needed something at once.
We walked back with fried potatoes from the pantry. Silence followed since we were both very attentive to our snack. The compartment full of people waited for their designated meals, which we got too. X helped me finish mine and offered to finish french fries for his brothers who told him where to go in precise terms.
Later, my baby’s dad wanted to join me on the seat next to me. But X offered him his own seat with his brothers. Which was taken with a wry glance in my direction. Then we proceeded to have a random conversation, told each other stories, I listened to his opinion about everything under the sun and we reached the city of Pune.
As the station drew closer, both of us were silent. I guess he felt like I did, we were coming home. I had always marveled at the resilience of people who left homelands and went away to seek their fortunes across various parts of the world. But I guess if they were fearless and sweet like X, nothing would seem like a challenge.
thebabayagaproject 