The train is called SuperFast which is a
relative term here, instead of taking 12 hours to cover 560 km, today they
would do it in ten hours and a bit not taking into account the unforeseeable
delays.
The coach is air conditioned and there is a
general silence of acceptance of the passengers who are mainly people returning
home or college students going to school. I imagined a more festive atmosphere
of a holiday weekend but , everyone, including me is mindful of the train, as
it chugs along, from village to village.
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| Parti Comunista flags fluttering in the morning breeze in Cochin |
It is hard to leave Kerala. No one has to inform
you that you have left Kerala, you can just look outside and see that you have
left Kerala. Gone are the luscious scenery, waterways, the look of impending
rain and the graceful movements of people
As soon as we entered Tamil Nadu, the trees
became skeletal, without the green top so often seen in Kerala. The population
had become gaunt, the gracefulness taken away from them, they move about as if
they are inn mourning for something or other.
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| Dont expect much to happen on a hot morning until a few minutes before the train leaves |
The train is cutting through the still of the
hot days of southern India.
Every few minutes vendors from the pantry train
pass through, shouting their wares, as you can imagine what quality they are
offering. I decided not to eat anything but wait till I get to Bangalore for a
proper meal.
When we crossed into Karnataka, the scenery had
a resemblance, albeit a poorer one, to Kerala, few more coconut trees appeared,
not like the stark talipot palms of Tamil Nadu. The earth is still dry, even
the hills are barren proudly showing their rocky formations. I am amazed that
not too many people are about, neither at stations we stopped by or in the
villages we are passing through. You get the feeling that once you leave
cochin, you leave diversity behind, the houses are built as if it was some
after thought of someone, architecturally nothing is attractive to look at as
we pass through, after all the only houses we would be seeing would be the
villages near the railroad tracks and perhaps they arose out of necessity
during the colonial times when the tracks were laid.
I felt a great sense of nostalgia. There was
some sense of belonging in Fort Cochin, all of a sudden it is as if your
identity is in question, you are liminal once again, waiting for the familiar
welcome of the Qatar Airways staff from various countries. Those middle eastern
airlines are a good metaphor for this statelessness.. Apart from the name,
every one of the employees is also temporarily stateless.
I have a flight from Doha to Chicago but I would
love to fly directly to Miami from Doha… it is a longer flight but at least I
will be getting off the sound of Cuban Spanish and cortaditos waiting for me at
the familiar cafes.. And a sister who would prepare the best Lebanese food…the
generic genetic food of Jews from that region.
I met a lot of nice and nicer people in Fort
Cochin on this visit..
A very busy time but very fulfilling, something
that would keep my soul warm during the coming days of travel and change of
sceneries.. From India, covered and transported in the middle eastern veil of
internationality to Miami and then on to the Indians… they will bring back my
balance, very quickly..
In each of these places, when I am there, it is
as fi the other places do not exist. My ten days in Fort Cochin, I was not
thinking of my other lives very much, even though I was longing for some
individuals, because of special bonds.
So when I am with American Indians, the non-Indian world
does not exist; same in Cuba, I very seldom think of the world outside Cuba,
except when writing post cards to friends in faraway countries.
It is the liminal period, when you are neither
there nor here, transporting yourself from one familiar place to another,
through unfamiliar scenery and feelings.
I enjoy this anonymity of liminal periods but
the solitude enhances the longings. Right now I was thinking of Bruxelles and
what time is it there? What is happening to people, to whom I am more than a
post card or a trinket with different noise or a fragrance? And in La Habana,
where affections wait for me like an unending bakery of delights..
In moments of liminality such as this, it is
better not to think to make decisions, but be mindful of the feelings..
The sweet faces of people I met in Fort Cochin,
some so sweet that your feelings vibrate with innocence. People who go out of
their way to complete circles of conversation, and most importantly I felt that
in Fort Cochin, from Inn Keepers to Historians to waitresses at elegant
restaurants, they had no hidden agenda.. They were going about their lives, but
adding a little bit of glitter to yours, by sharing some innocent human
emotion.
Love, affections, hugs and kisses await.. But I
shall wait for the monsoon to pass, as well as the hurricanes in Cuba to simmer
down, and once again I will call up Qatar Airways..
I wonder whether you can accommodate me on a
flight to Cochin connecting in Doha?
The answer, I am sure, would be YES.. leave
Miami connect in Doha and a short flight to Cochin, arriving as the sun dusts off the chill of the night
on the heads of coconut trees..
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| a plaque on a long abandoned synagogue in Jew Town, Cochin |
