Now I really don’t like trains

It was a depressing start. It always is after a couple of days at home. I never want to come back from that soft bed of mine, that room every inch of which belongs only to me (as long as the houseowner’s back is turned), and Mom’s touch. I gloomily took the train (missing the first one under the guise of depression-hang-over) and thought I will carry the gloom with me and nurture it to grow into a really healthy depression. Unfortunately, the train started moving, and with the lovely scenes outside the train window and the soothing music on my ears, I couldn’t hold on to the gloom much longer. Every time I closed my eyes and opened it again I would rediscover how greenly green all the green of our state really is. Darn, even the gloom would desert me on these desperate days. Have I nothing to keep me company, I tried to complain even as I was grinning widely at all the green greens and the generous winds.

But.. but but. Dear misery had only slipped out of the window to come back in a little while. In a couple of hours it was back. That was a little after Trippunithura. The train halted. It wouldn’t move. Reality which I had long left behind flew right back in with a thud. It is a working day! I cant afford to be late. At least not later than the already late hour I allowed myself to be. I panicked, I tried to ignore the beautiful scenes outside and not smile, I had to be tense.

After hesitating for one and a half hours, I jumped out of the train and started walking. No clue really where I was headed to. But somewhere I’d find roads, and all roads would have ricks and all ricks would know where my address is. I walked for half an hour with my heavy luggage (I exaggerate I know) in the hot hot hot sun (yea again), only to hear that familiar whistle. Yes the train was starting and I had no clue where I was, except that if I crossed two rails I might get back on. But nowhere in the history of train rails, has there ever been a merciful train that stopped to let on a poor dear passenger. But a number of poor dear passengers were waving frantically and I smiled my sarcastic smile (sun burnt and lost I may be, but mock at others I shall) – yea like the train would listen to the cries of these losers.

But it did and they all got in while I blinked and slow-motioned myself in the direction of the train. Someone at the door said, come on jump in. I shook my head, no I am scared. Come on, jump in – now a number of passengers peeped out their head and encouraged me. Someone took my bag in and then before I knew it, lifted me up. I was in. hurray. But as soon as the train took off, I saw a short cut to my office at the point I had stopped walking. Now it would go all the way to the station and I’d need to find a ride again to my office. Forget freshening up before work, forget munching anything. I appeared dirty, sweaty, awfully smelling in my office and began working. Gloom.

Now what was the whole point of writing all this? Not much really. I wanted to write. Cheers!

Discrimination, a norm

I am not a cricket player. All I have for credit are the little cricket games I played with my brother as a kid. So when my colleagues planned to form a cricket team for a journos’ cricket tournament, I didn’t think much of it. But… I didn’t think they would not even consider women in their team. They didn’t know if any of us were interested, had experience or were good players. They assumed it is going to be a men’s only event. Now that, more than irk me, shocked me. Yes, that’s how it is in international cricket. But I thought local matches were more casual, more employee-friendly. The year is 2011 and we still think fights and sports are for men and cooking and sewing are for women?

When I asked if I could be in the team – just out of curiosity in fact – I was generously offered a cheerleader’s place. They meant it for fun. But repeatedly when the comment came from every man in the office, I was again, puzzled. This was not anymore a joke. They seriously could not even imagine a woman as a player. It is because the cricket ball is too hard for a fragile little woman’s soft skin, I gathered.

If I say more, I will only be branded a desperate feminist. I say ‘only’ because that would only trivialize the depth of my words and concerns. I am not asking for justice. I am not thinking of a different picture where all is fair. I am not in the least asking to be in the team! I am just realizing discrimination is just another norm, `an accepted reality of the world. It would always exist in subtle forms unquestioned. Wouldn’t it?