Three of us, Abbu , Ammi and me, were sitting in the train compartment, with almost an hour for the train to leave the station. Two other families also joined in, to wait out the time, before the train heads out to Tatanagar. Each family had their son or daughter dropping by in a weirdly similar fashion.
And we think our lives are any different.
Each of those conversations, be it in bengali or bhojpuri or Dakkhani we spoke, were almsot about the same things. Parents giving their kids their advice, while the kids seem to give even more of it to them.
Goodbyes at stations are not sad. I mean, the more you travel away from family, it becomes part of what they call life. You’re not sad or emotional at the thought of it. Or maybe, I’ve become indifferent to it and adopted a more realist approach over the years.
I still recall how every-time summer vacations would end and I would have to head back home. Tears would run down like a waterfall. I can very well imagine how funny it must have looked to others. But the fear of not meeting my cousins for another year was just terrible.
And that was the time of writing letters and sending greeting cards!
With WhatsApp, Video calls and social networks, the issue of connectivity has been blown away, and the realization that distance hardly matters has seeped in. Especially when it comes to people who really matter.
As the train was about to leave and I stepped out of the train saying my salaam, other kids (yes, we’ll always remain kids), also followed suit. Waving their parents off, as the train gathered speed, we just couldn’t catch up.