Mecheda Station
We traveled home from college and back on trains during weekends. Howrah was ninety minutes away by that mode of transport. Local trains – maroon and cream with ads of hair oil and Complan painted on the sides. Saturdays we had half days. After the classes, we took a train from Mechada station to Howrah. The trains used to be pretty empty most weekends but to get it even emptier we always aimed for the 1:30 PM Mechada local. From platform no.4 it started with handful of locals and lots of students going home for the weekend.Now if you are not familiar with Indian local trains, let me enlighten you. Local trains are a place where you can buy everything from cosmetic jewelleries to flowers to local produce to fruits and snacks to digestive medicines to help kill the acidity triggered from the fried snacks you just bought and ate. It’s also a place where commuters also play cards, read newspapers and books, knit, gossip and engage in many other activities in between.It’s therefore no wonder that train was my favorite mode of transport. And I preferred the Ladies Compartment. The trains crossed the huge Rupnarayan River over a bridge making an ear splitting noise and then we reached the first big junction – Bagnan. Hawkers with excellent selling speech (you need to understand Bengali in order to fully understand the fun) quickly filled the compartments here selling everything from safety pins to school bags. But the one I waited most eagerly for was the “Jhal Muri” wala.
Jhal Muri
He made this heavenly mixture of puffed rice, mustard oil, onions, peppers, tamarind and green chutney, spices and chanachur (The hot mix available here doesn’t even come close to representing chanachur, so keeping the name intact). He then put it in a paper cone and topped it with a slice of fresh coconut. I tell you there was nothing that quite came close to this one. I have tried numerous times at home to make Jhal Muri as he made in train but failed miserably.After I had eaten and licked my Jhal Muri packet clean, it was time for a power nap. I have always found it strange that I slept better in trains. All the sounds around me somehow appealed to my sleep cells better. Though on some days I read, or listened to others conversations – topics surrounding the monotony of daily lives – children’s school, sky rocketing expenses. Sometimes here and there a recipe or two were exchanged. A little chat about the best time to buy gold or a little venom about the daughter-in-law or the mother-in-law. Interestingly, husbands almost never made the topics. Though just mundane, these ladies fascinated me.And just like that, the ninety minutes would be over. As the train reached Howrah station with the speed of a snail, their demeanour changed. Their relaxed chatting outlook became focused. As soon as the train entered the station, these seemingly docile ladies jumped off the train with utmost proficiency and set off to their destination quickly zigzagging their way through the thick crowd and disappeared. Most of them never met again, or perhaps they did. It was just me who met new ladies with new yet same stories to tell on Sundays on a train taking me back to my college.Love,
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Riot of Random
