training back home
i travel 2nd class these days and its great. you get to see real people more often than in case of first-class where u see real people that want to mostly feel u up just because u look like a docile little kid(I have nothing against them doing that, i understand, but i cant help but avoid such things).
anyway, here i was the night before the last, very close to the door, trying to avoid the smell of sweat strong enough to make one faint. the train wasnt too crowded. so these two men come in- must be around 60 - 65, balding, pot-bellied,maybe slightly drunk(i did smell alcohol but i cant be sure it was them) and generally harmless- hang around the door and talk, labour, money, north-indian influx into the city mostly.another guy, in 30s, comes in and stands right behind me wearing a wet windcheater and mostly wetting my t-shirt with it which really pisses me off. i dont say a thing. the guy starts talking casually to the two men... maybe they all know each other. after a while these people stop talking.. and the one with the windcheater starts rubbing his ghutka/tobacco. i feel like telling him about tobacco and lime and all the bad things that could happen to his mouth but i dont. a while later, at kanjurmarg, he asks me if i want to get off the train in hindi. i say no in marathi and give a polite smile.... continued in the next post
anyway, here i was the night before the last, very close to the door, trying to avoid the smell of sweat strong enough to make one faint. the train wasnt too crowded. so these two men come in- must be around 60 - 65, balding, pot-bellied,maybe slightly drunk(i did smell alcohol but i cant be sure it was them) and generally harmless- hang around the door and talk, labour, money, north-indian influx into the city mostly.another guy, in 30s, comes in and stands right behind me wearing a wet windcheater and mostly wetting my t-shirt with it which really pisses me off. i dont say a thing. the guy starts talking casually to the two men... maybe they all know each other. after a while these people stop talking.. and the one with the windcheater starts rubbing his ghutka/tobacco. i feel like telling him about tobacco and lime and all the bad things that could happen to his mouth but i dont. a while later, at kanjurmarg, he asks me if i want to get off the train in hindi. i say no in marathi and give a polite smile.... continued in the next post
