October's Loss

20.12.2010: The train was running at 120 km per hour west of Paris. The snow covered vast expanses of land and snow covered single and double storied houses were appearing and disappearing at irregular intervals. The gentle smoke emerging out of the chimney of every house gave the perfect sight of a European winter. It was also a reflection of my mood at that time. Sitting in the cozy comfort of a French Train, I could not enjoy the scenes however. Mind was so upset. Even standing taller than the Eiffel Tower itself in Paris in the morning did not help lift the spirit. It was stuck up at somewhere in the Port City of Visakhapatnam. To be precise, my thoughts at that time were hovering around an ordinary man and his ordinary journey in his life.

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I met him when he was at my present age. It was not for the first time I met him, but it was the first time after my memory started recoding the things. He had long connection with my family when my parents were churning out a life for us away in Visakhapatnam, as we were enjoying our childhood with our grandparents in Olavaipe. He was a part of the process and one among many rustic youths who went there from our village in search of a livelihood.

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When I met him, he was a happy man who, like any ordinary man was in search of material comforts. Brick by brick, the life has been taking shape. A house with all the bricks he could earn in his career was under construction. An own house in a city was a dream for an ordinary man like him. One had to sweat it out from every pore of his/her skin to see a dream of such a magnitude realise. To earn a job in those times was like climbing a hill. Hardships used to wait even at the top of the hill in the form of His Master’s highhandedness. Bosses behaved like tyrants who looked down upon the employees like slaves. They were forced to work for paltry sums. Building a life was virtually like swimming against the stream. Still he could swim and succeed.

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I was a young man in search of a foot hold at that time. I needed only a white collar job then. After waiting for a few months at my Olavaipe home searching for job, I have decided to leave the place. After dilly dallying and pondering over pros and cons for long, at last the day had come. On a rainy evening, accompanied by my eldest brother, I had set out for Vizag. Babuchettan saw me off at Ernakulam Harbour Railwaystation. The train started moving. It was like a journey back on the memory track-the track that took us to and from vizag many a time when I was in my childhood. The train chugged on. From Palakkad to Coimbatore then Salem, Jolarpettai, Madras and then Vijayavada.

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Vijayawada is one of the busiest railway stations in India as most of the trains from north, east and west to and from south have to pass through Vijayawada. Then comes the famous Godavari River and the big bridge across it. The train chugs over to Rajamundri station and then over to Anakkappalli. There is a temple in Anakkapalli- Nookkalamma Temple- frequented by my mother during her stay in Vizag. At last after around 16 hours of journey, the train reached Visakhapatnam. It was like a homecoming for me

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At the railway station, there stood waiting the brisk walking tall man. With him there was a little boy too-his son- to receive me. The cute little boy made immediate friends with me. From there we rode on the scooter to their house. There started a solemn relation between a timid rustic young man and a happy family, the warmth of which is consciously preserved till now. Interestingly, his house was just closer to the place where we stayed for a long time while my father had been running a restaurant.

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