-Calicut-hyderabd-delhi-shimla-delhi-hyderabad-bangaloor-mysoor-wayanad-Calicut-
Firstly, I re-figured this map into -kondotty-areacode-manjeri-perintthanlamanna-manjeri-kondotty-. I could only reflect
my imagination like a small circle of my village. My India is vast, vaster than
I ever thought about. Whenever the news about the journey spread out, all put their
fingers on their noses. All were apprehensive about my health. Some advised me
to not take risk, and instead suggested me to favour to take the last option, a
journey to Mysoor. North India is
another world! a country of far far a way land. Firstly, I also considered taking
the last option, but there were also some others who encouraged me to go
with my son wherever he goes and some dared to ask him to append Kashmir too to
the plan! Each journey gives us an endless experience and when I am concerned
even a single step from my house is a starting point where a flood of
experience begins to come!
 |
| at Hyderabad Central University |
My son had obtained
a gold medal from two central universities for his study excellence. He was
placed first in MA Sociology from IGNOU, New Delhi and PG Dipolma in Dalid and
Minority Studies from Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi. He missed the gold medal
award-giving-function of IGNOU and when it’s time to get a gold medal from
Jamia Millia Isalmia he readied to go to receive it. To make this event more
colourful and blessed he invited me to accompany him. My family has extended
support to go to the far away land. All of sudden, everything happened! But still there were some practical problems.
He was in Hyderabad and somebody wanted to come to take me to Hyderabad. My
three sons and daughter- in-law also were in Hyderabad. One day my youngest
child phoned me and asked to come with some of his friends to Hyderabad. I
agreed.
 |
| at Jamia Millia Islamia |
I remember that
day distinguishly. It was a fine, rainless November day. Flowers were bloomed
everywhere. Monsoon has just stopped to make the event merrier, and the water
it poured all along was filled even a single hole on the earth. My mind murmured,
it is the best time to go anywhere. I started that very unexpected, but thrilling
journey to affix new meaning to my life. I stepped into the train from Palakkad.
Palm trees waved their leaves to send me off. Train seemed very happy to carry
a lucky mother to go far. I was about to daunting with the new atmosphere, but
the presence of those students who all were students of Moulana Azad Urdu National
University, Hyderabad gave me enough safe feeling in a compressed and packed
compartment. I did not even my seat; the
idea of reserved seat was a new thing to me. But they helped me and found a
very comfortable seat for me.
 |
| beside Taj Mahal |
Train was in a very fast pace. The sound of chuk..chuk
of the train resonated my own heart beat. I was separating from my beloved state
into an alien, scary land. Instead of feeling fright, I enjoyed the journey.
The night I slept in the train with millions of very colourful dreams. In my
dream I was alone and was going to a valley where flowers blossomed and birds
chirped and from far away a very small girl started dancing. The face of that
young gal was not so lucid. She sang a very familiar song I used to sing in my
childhood days. After a song, that child came along to me, I was surprised, it
was me, and her face was mine! My dream was about me! I enjoyed that song, and
when I was awake, the sun was already there. One of the students said to me, in a
very low voice that the whole night I was singing some old songs! I said them: ‘Those
all songs are not old, it all came from my fresh mind’.
 |
| before Jama Masjid |
When the train
halted the next stop, I heard some strange sounds of another languages, I
looked at the sign board. It was Wijayawada. I took my mobile phone; the
battery charge was already empty in it. I took a ‘reserved battery’ and inserted
a new Andhra SIM card which my son had given me to put in when I cross the
boundaries! Now everything is new, and from the freshly charged mobile phone I
rang to Hyderabad. After years of struggle for living, first time I was going
to a far a place. In a dreamy state, I was about to sleep again in day-time
Suhaib came and said: ‘Umma we are reaching to the Secunderabad railway station’
then suddenly I got up and freshed my face with water. The train was on time
until that time, but when it was about to reach its destination, it started to
go very slowly, slower than a snail. I heard the sigh of the train. It only
produced the chuk chuk sounds, but did not want us to leave it. one seat
in this train was my abode at least for some hours. Then the train totally
stopped. People were complaining and abusing for ‘the dead train’, but I felt
rather very sorry to that poor train! Train only makes its name meaningful only
there are thousands of travellers, and when nobody is there its only a iron
coated machine body. So when it was about to reach its last destination, it did
its last option to lag a little more time only to give it to be a meaning
being.
 |
| Red Fort |
When I was reaching
there, my sons and daughter-in-law were already present there. They gave me rose
flowers. I felt very happy. When I hugged my children I felt home in
Hyderabad. We did not have much time before going to Delhi. I stayed with my
son that day. I was too tired so I slept when I saw the bed. In a certain
moment, I woke up. Still there was the light in the room, I tried to open my
eyes and stand to switch off the light, and when I switched off the light, a meek
sound came from the corner.
‘Mam, I am still awake. I am searching
for a ticket for tomorrow’
‘Searching for a ticket for tomorrow?’
I did not comprehend what my son was
saying, then he explained.
‘I booked our ticket for tomorrow, but
the ticket from Hyderabad to delhi has been cancelled. I booked it through the
website www.irctc.co.in. so if a seat is not confirmed it would be cancelled
automatically. So I am trying to find out some other way to get a ticket’
‘Ok, well’
 |
| at Lotus Temple with two Swedish tourists |
I actually did not understand what he was
telling me. So I wished him a solution and returned to finish my broken dream. When
I got up next day, he was still before his laptop, I was totally upset with him
and in a very slow voice I express my disquiet with him for avoiding his sleep
in the night. Then he told me in an excitement.
‘Mom! Finally I found a solution for
our journey. I searched all the way around and at last found two trains to go
to Delhi. In the first train we will go to Nagpur and we will stay in Nagpur a
day and from there we will catch another train to Delhi. Actually there is not
a single train to go without a break, and we don’t have another day to post
pone our journey’.
He thought I would be very dissatisfied
if I heard that very strange idea, but I was very happy to go wherever he would
go. For me, this journey was not for a destination, but for travelling all
around India.
 |
| Qutub Minar |
The next day at 10 am, we reached at
the train station. I have never seen such a crowd before in any railway staion.
Every inch of Secunderabad railway station mackerel packed with the people. I was
scared I might lose myself in that crowd. The train was going to Bihar. Though
it was a sleeper class, each seat, two or three ‘illegal’ passengers occupied
all most all the ‘reserved’ seats. Our two seats reduced into one. He told me
the idea of RAC. One of our seats was occupied by a teenager. We did not say him
to leave the seat, he was looking at us and expected anytime he would be asked
to get up. There was also another man, a
guy with a moustache and a pot belly, he was sleeping or rather pretending that
he was in a deep sleep. He got a middle birth and he was ‘sleeping’ in that
seat and made enough hard to the other passengers who were supposed to sit in
the lower birth. All the five passengers were compelled to sit the other side. A
pot bellied man in one side and five persons including women in the other side!
I was thinking India is very divergent is all aspects!
The train
started moving. A journey to a wonderland, a mother in a wonderland would be
the apt title for this post. Suddenly I felt I lost everything which I thought
would help always. My language became just some disturbing syllable to others
and only my son understood what I communicated through it, what helplessness!
Before me there was small kid with her mother and always it slipped from the
seat, my heart ached, but my tongue was tied, no word which familiar to her did
not come out it. I, in a very low voice, but
 |
| Hyderabad |
sometimes in a bit louder pained
her gesture to slip and I said only, ‘mol’, ‘mol’. I tried to believe
that in all language words for mother and child must be same. When I failed to
lull or convince that small kid, I turned back and held my son’s hand tight as
if I were a small kid who confronted difficulties to speak its first syllable to its mother. If we
don’t know a language we are equal to a innocent child!
((This is a translated version of a travelogue originally written in Malayalam by Maimoona Rahman))
