Desert Rose

Me. Sitting by the window seat of the train. Staring out with every possible random thought running in my head. The boy.   Six to seven years of age I believe. Walking ahead of his parents and halts in front of me. He shows me the ticket and in broken malayalam asked if I could guide him with the seats and I did it right away. But I looked at the parents who stood behind him with a complete blank expression and to me it looked like they didn’t care to step up and do what elders are supposed to do. Even before I could finish processing the thought, I saw the boy using his hands and making gestures to talk to his parents. And then the father and mother told each other something the same way and they three walked towards their seats. I sat there, disappointed with myself. I got reminded of a line that I read somewhere - “It is amazing, the quality of human beings; we can just get past people not dressing the way we want them to dress.” 

All that noise. The hassled scenes. So much of dirt and garbage. Unpleasant smell dominating the air. Every face showing different emotions. Every frame giving me ideas of a little tale . Just a whole lot of chaos but that is the world’s largest railway network.  Every time I take a train in India, there is something or someone that gets me thinking. Never the less I always enjoy my dates with the Indian trains. From “this is my seat” arguments, to “may I sit here till the next station” requests. From making acquaintances during long journeys, to being freaked out by drunk locals in a rather empty compartment.  From trying to catch a train that almost started, to jumping out on late  realization  about the destination arrival.  From shifting legs and luggage continuously to escape the cockroaches, to getting used to them moving around.  6 years of living here and travelling around has been much more than just seeing places. A...

I spent my last five months in an architectural firm in ahmedabad and was mainly involved in the upcoming metro rail project of the city . This is when I read more about the transportation network in India and came across a lot of interesting details. In this process, I learnt more about one man who by the virtue of his hard work and dedication brought comfort to Indians – E. Sreedharan – true icon of our times! 56 successive years, in a single job, without a break – but barely anyone talking about him. Is it simply because, Dr Sreedharan, is not a typical Indian Success Story? As in, he is not an IITian nor is he from an IIM. He is not from a minority community. He did not study under street lamps. He did not milk cows to pay for his schooling. He is neither an actor nor a singer. Oh and he is not a cricketer! He was just a simple middle class Indian, who went about his job – the man who probably contributed the most to our infrastructure and that too silen...