Enlightening Pilgrimage of Indian Heritage

A Wish That Came Through

(From the Travelogues of Mathew D. Kunnappilly)

THE JOURNEY BEGINS

Sunday, September 10, 2000

We were at the railway station by 7 am. I met my sister and her husband. He asked me if New Delhi was included in my itinerary. I said that I had no plan to visit Delhi at this time. However, I have planned to visit Delhi some other time for another purpose. They have a son and his family, and another daughter living in Delhi. They would like us visiting them also. I simply said," I will see."

Our train pulled up to the station at 8.30 and we boarded and settled in by 8.45. The scheduled departure time was at 9.10. Time passed 9.15; 9.30; 9.45 and the train was not moving and the engine was not even started. People got impatient and some of them started yelling and shouting. Some official came and said that the engine driver lost his "Box" with directions, maps and the railway rules for him. Some sort of " railway black box" At 10.00 I heard someone shouting " find your dam box or get another one. Let us go."

Finally, at 10.10 AM our train started moving and we were on our way.

At Kalamasery, near Alway, our train stopped. Because our train was late, we had to yield to the train running on time. This was to happen several times during our journey until the driver picked up the momentum and made up for the lost time and started running as per schedule.

At Kalamasery I watched a funny thing. There was a group of people, about 50 in all, young and old, male and female, were gathered under the shade of a Baniyantree. They were the migrant workers from Tamil Nadu. This was on Sunday. Some men were playing cards. Some were just talking. Kids were running around. All of a sudden, I noticed a young girl; about 18 or 20 started changing her clothes. " What the hell is she trying to do?" I asked myself. Un-dressing and dressing in front of all those people around, plus all the people watching from the train? With a man's curiosity I watched. She stood about 10 feet from the group, facing the train. She slipped a clean new skirt over her head. While she was tying the skirt at her waist, untied the old one and that dropped on the ground. She stepped out, picked up the old one, folded it, and put it away. Then she started unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom up. She stopped in the middle. Then unbuttoned a couple from the neck down. Then, with a new shirt in her hand she squatted down. Now, her knees, up to her shoulder with the skirt hanging down to her ankle, covered her full front. She pulled her hands out of the long sleeves, undid the remaining buttons. Put a new shirt over her back. Put a new bra over her head. Then she pulled the old shirt out over the head, and while doing it, simultaneously, unhooked her old bra. Both came over the head. As the old bra came out, the new one took both in without exposing anything. She put the hook, then put her hands through the long sleeves, and buttoned her shirt from neck down. Then she stood up. I was not disappointed. I was amazed. Not even a hair width of her bare skin was exposed to others while she was undressing and dressing. In his travelogue Fodor describes a scene at one of the Ghats at Varanasi the ladies undressing and dressing after bathing in the Ganges. He called it "Hand magic" He wrote that, as the old clothes peeling of the skin, the new one covered the same spot, never exposing a square inch of skin. I thought that he was exaggerating. The moral of this story is this. If one wants to be modest, she does not need a marble mansion or a concrete castle with formal bedroom or a "dressing room".

She finished dressing and our train started moving.

NEXT: The Train Journey Continues