Delusion of Appearance---a piece of write up

This piece is based on a incident stored in the recess of my memory which serves to remind me never to form an opinion about a person  in a haste. He  may be far too different from the picture you draw about him on his  face value.  

DELUSION OF APPEARANCE

“Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; in the elder, a part of experience”, wrote  Francis Bacon . True, but if I say that it was both  a  precious  education and a sweet experience  when  I  had to   travel  by a passenger train , I  may perhaps not be taken seriously. Who will believe in this age of superfasts  that  I can   feel enamoured of having  travelled in a passenger train?  But, believe me, it is true and the whole stretch of journey is still fresh in my mind even after four decades.

It was a hot sunset  when,  after a long hectic day , I, accompanied by a  college friend,  rushed fast  to catch the bus which we missed by a few minutes.   Instead of waiting indefinitely for the next bus , we took a chance at the railway station and, luckily for us, a passenger train , which was running late as usual , stood  at the platform, as if  waiting to receive us. We did not give a second thought  and   boarded  a general compartment . Travelling by a passenger train ! So what .  It was better to be in the illusion of movement, we reflected , than  be  stranded.

We  stood  at the entrance and  surveyed the inside view to get acclimatized  to an atmosphere which was  alien to us  and to  locate a dignified spot where two of us could be accommodated comfortably. After all, we were white collared shairi babus(urban elite), amply proud of our English speaking talent. As I threw a casual glance ,  I saw people rubbing shoulders to create space for themselves. Most of the berths   were  already occupied by passengers of different hues and colours.  The village  folks   in their traditional attires were engaged in activities , from caressing their children to munching their meals . A group of young men were engrossed in the game of cards , unmindful of the surrounding . Some sat there lost in their own thoughts. A few amongst  women were  talking  in hush hush voices, perhaps about their inlaws and husbands. At last, my roving eyes stopped at the cabin where a group of  reasonably well dressed gentlemen was sitting ready to resume the pitch of their  discussions  which perhaps got dim and inaudible in  the din of    commotion of the standing train at one of the biggest stations on the route. And that was the spot where we settled down.   

As the train moved  I heard  the  group  talking loudly amongst them, perhaps resuming  their gossiping on topics of interest, from qualities of recent releases of films to  personal lives  of film stars , their acting talents, stories of collapsed marriages, their affairs and characters.  Gradually gossiping transformed into serious discussions, from increasing rate of crimes to increasing prices in the market , from casteist politics to pseudo-secularism. Each one spoke with an air of confidence and with authority of  an expert shifting subjects  from vagaries of weather to shrewd moves of politicians.

Though we pretended  to be indifferent, we had  our ears to their heated debates all the time . We were finding it difficult to keep aloof  and  no sooner I got the opportunity to  intervene, I pounced at it and made a valid  point. We  got drawn to the  stream of  so called intellectual interaction  and became part of the group,  as if we knew each other for years. As the discussion  advanced on a topic of utmost importance, the future of democracy in our country , views expressed by some of them made lot of sense. And I found it all to be such an exhilarating experience that I  had to revise my opinion  about traveling in a passenger train.

Far from being averse to its stoppages at short intervals , I started enjoying the journey   for its  leisurely movement , crowded and yet specious. Nobody seemed  to be in a hurry, not the train  at least. I could look  at the faces that spoke  volumes, heard peels of laughter reflecting carefree attitudes, eyes that wept without trickles of tears telling tales of want and misery.  It brought me  face to face with the bitterness of  human  existence. I could see   each one of us  carrying  an invisible burden of life like a bull carries hump on its back. And the best part was that it provided   a natural   forum for thoughtful exchange of ideas , lively discussions, heated debates,  meaningful seminars without being tied up to the formal  rules of the game or the constraints of the formats.

  

As the discussion shifted to  spirituality and metaphysics involving Vedic scriptures, Bhagavat Gita, Buddhism, Islam and Christianity,   our chatting became more and more  loud and aggressive. The pitch got raised to a crescendo synchronizing  rhythmically  with the clattering sound of the  moving  wheels of the train. But there was sudden fall of the pitch and swift mellowing down of the excitement. We had to be silent for a few minutes.

 In fact , as the  train  stopped , we saw an  old man , half clad in  dirty clothes, boarding  the compartment .and making  his way to occupy a seat facing ours.We watched him in disgust.   His black skin, coated with patches of  dust was glistening with  darkness  and touches of repulsive whiteness. His dishevelled  and dry long hair, uncut for years , as if rubbed in sand,  rested on his head like  a deserted  nest on the branch of a dried up tree. His eyes  protruding through two holes  were roving and restless  as if looking for something that was not there. He sat on the berth  unmindful of our presence and seemed lost in his own thoughts . Person with such a demeanour could hardly be welcome to an area which was predominantly occupied by white collared gentry.

As the commotion created by  sudden intrusion of this new guest subsided ,we resumed the debate, returning to the same high pitch . We could not help  watching the old man now and then from the corner of our eyes as he threw casual glances on speakers as they spoke.   Irritated by the  foul smell that his body emitted, some one amongst us commented contemptuously  about him  in English . We had no choice but to ignore him and get back to our topic of discussion. 

One of the speakers spoke  about the role of fate. He argued. "Well, if nothing happens without the will of Providence , call it with  whatever name , the god, the almighty , luck, fate or destiny, what is then the relevance of action, the karma, which forms important part of the philosophy  of Bhagavat Gita . How could the mortal beings be responsible for their actions , if they are pre-ordained . It is like holding a motor bike responsible for an accident whereas the rider on it, not the bike, has the real control over it."  His argument was contested by counter arguments. "True," countered someone, " that destiny has a part to play. But God has blessed the  man with His most covetous gift, the brain. If he cannot use it to decide what is right and what is wrong,  then  what befalls on him as a consequence of his action , he  escapes by  attributing it to the fate . Is it not pure and simple escapism?"  The arguments went on heatedly, and as it happens in case of discussions on such a ticklish subject , none was  ready to concede to the others' point of view.  

And then  we heard the thunderous voice as if coming from a long tunnel. No. It was from the tattered looking man facing us. In  his sharp baritone voice he intervened in fluent English that left us baffled and shocked .  In a few chosen words, he commented on the theory of Karma quoting profusely from Bhagavat Gita. He said that  Arjun also posed the same question to Lord Krishna, when he said :

“Sannyasam Karmanam  krsnapunaryogam ca samsasi

Yacchreya etaorekam tanme bruhi sunisctam”

(You extol renunciation of action and at the same time advocate yoga of action.  Krishna, give your considered view which one of the two is decidedly better.)

And Sri Krishna replied:

Sannyasah karmayogasca nihsreyasakaravubhautayostu

Tayostu karmasannyasatkarayogo visisyate

(Both, renunciation as well as yoga, are beneficial.  But, between the two, yoga(engagement in action ) is preferable.)

Before we could make sense of what he said , the train stopped and there he went  and got lost in the merging crowd at the platform leaving behind the bunch of idiots that we made of ourselves.We felt ashamed at our shallowness. True, in his abnormal attire and demenour he could hardly be  welcome  and that, to an extent,  abated our sense of guilt . But guilty we  did feel at  our  contemptuous remark against him  that we thought he would not be able to decipher.

As if this was not enough to teach us a lesson in humility, we encountered another episode  the same day. The train reached our destination late in the evening. We walked through the exit gate and looked for a rickshaw amongst crowded landscape outside Railway station. None was ready to go to the place where we lived . Those who agreed asked for exorbitant charges and looked expectant for the moment when we would succumb. As we stood depressed, there came from no where   a rickshaw pulled by a tall  and lanky young man in his late thirtees. Ignoring the hostile looks around him, he offered to take us . He did not bargain and was happy to get  what we thought was reasonable.

 We settled on his rickshaw and  he started pulling  it with all the strength in his frail body . As he jumped up and down on the pedal, we spotted a  patch on the back of his shirt too big to be missed. Impressed by his being reasonable despite being poor ,  we felt for him and wanted to be of some help. We  asked probing questions in Hindi and evoked interesting responses. He replied slowly in Hindi. But, in between when we made some comments about him in English for our own  consumption , he inadvertently  switched over to fluent English to reply to our queries. It was now our turn to jump with shock  on our seats. That  was too much in a day to bear.  By the time we recovered, we were in the compound of our residence. We paid him coins conversing fondly in English which brought our entire family out . They looked at us in surprise  as though we had gone mad They were not wrong . The thought of tragic plight of two wonderful characters that we encountered  was enough to drive us mad with shame and sorrow.