Keya Sarkar: End of a romance

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I remember when we were younger travelling to and from Santiniketan by train was fun but not particularly comfortable. Not only did the travel take time compared to now, there were no AC compartments to save you the grime of travel and of course the legendary Birbhum heat. Thanks to the Indian Railways, now the commuters between Kolkata and Santiniketan are spoiled for choice. What is more, all the day trains have one AC chair car compartment.

Having moved to Santiniketan from Mumbai I was a pro at commuting "" by train in my greener days and then in the comfort of chauffeured AC cars as I grew older. But the traffic, the slums and the garbage on either side of the road ensured that the best of cars were no insulation from the reality of Mumbai. In contrast, the AC compartments taking me to Kolkata from Santiniketan were really value for money. If one was willing to part with Rs 250 or thereabouts one could chat with one's fellow passengers, read or simply sleep during the three-hour commute. On one particular train, named the Santiniketan Express, the authorities had taken the trouble of even creating an ambience with pictures of Santiniketan, prints of Tagore's paintings and even channel music. Rabindra sangeet, of course.

Over time the channel music stopped functioning. But it was only a marginal loss. Because as one neared Santiniketan, there would be bauls who would get on to entertain you with their variety of folk songs accompanied by instruments the sounds of which completed the Birbhum landscape that was visible through the window. There was even a gentle voiced, reasonably in tune Rabindra sangeet singer who got on with his harmonium around his neck, his singing reminding tourists that they were approaching Tagore land.

But it is only over the last four years that the middle class in Kolkata have ceased to be the middle class. The spurt in Baristas and CCDs and multiplexes and malls has given the reticent Calcuttan of yesteryears nonchalance about showing off their new found wealth. Whatever else this may have done for their psyche, it has certainly made them confident enough to be loud in this "I have money, so I shout, so you look at me" kind of statement making way. The same AC compartment in which one could afford to read or even snooze has now become a high noise pollution zone.

The Bengali bhadraloks who now travel to Santiniketan strangely speak a lot of English. It is almost as if they do not believe in their own fluency and therefore have a need to talk loudly. And if they are traveling with NRI sons, daughters or cousins, then there is almost an attempt to ensure that the entire compartment gets to know of food habits, problems with water, travel plans and many other intimate family details, all of course in English.

Then there are the businessmen who need to be in touch with their dealers, truck loaders and employees and therefore need to shout into their cell phones. In the midst of all this are the baul singers who now need louder musical accompaniments just to be heard. And the poor Rabindra sangeet singer is stuck as if in a time warp. He continues to sing to the strains of his old harmonium. He sings almost for himself, barely audible. As for the ambience, pictures of Santiniketan are now interspersed with posters of developers who promise to give a "whole village free" with a cottage in Santiniketan!

I cannot believe that within only four years I have changed my style. I now prefer to travel 2nd class ladies! There is discomfort but much less noise pollution. I have no gender bias, but my very own empirical evidence shows that women are less loud than men. At least on the phone.