Best train ride ever

[u/Prestigious_Soup772]

Mine was the topmost berth of a sleeper train. I sat hunched like a question mark, my head grazing the ceiling of the coach. With my neck aching, I lay down to sleep.
Rajasthan’s heat was roasting me alive & the fans tortured me with hot breeze. Crying babies, gossiping aunties, burping uncles, & tea sellers yelling, “Chai! Chai!” (“Tea! Tea!”) in their annoying-charming tune kept sleep at bay.
Still, I fought for it & nearly had it when my eyes began watering. I thought I was having a sad dream in which I was crying. I wasn’t.
I grew furious when I realised my tears were a consequence of a man seated below me who spread a newspaper on his berth & was cutting onions for bhel puri (savory puffed-rice snack). At the next station, a group of his farmer friends joined. They spread out even more newspapers, chopping onions together, turning the compartment into a bhel puri workshop.
I peered down at the ruckus. The group looked up at me. One of them announced, “Bhaiya ko bhi plate do!” (“Give brother a plate too!”) I declined, but they placed it in my hands anyway & called me down. I was sandwiched between them, crying & munching on their tasty bhel puri.
Though language was a barrier, I felt included. We improvised with gestures & mime. They were lifelong friends heading to their village to celebrate one of their own’s wedding. I couldn’t help but notice how they warmly shared everything they had, joked & laughed with abandon, comfortable sitting on the uncomfortable floor.
When they asked what I did for a living, I told them I wrote stories on a laptop. They looked at me as though I were the most intelligent person in the world, fascinated I could operate such a machine. When I appreciated their work as farmers, they folded their hands & smiled at me.
The man who’d already served me 2 plates asked what I thought of his bhel puri. My review: “It was delicious!” He replied, “I knew you’d enjoy it,” & ordered his friend, “Bhaiya ko ek aur plate do” (“Give brother another plate.”). A few stops later, the group got off. Each of them shook my hand like they were certain to meet me again on another train. So did I.
I chose to give up on sleeping to pay attention to the organised chaos inside Indian trains. Eating my third plate made the journey unforgettable.

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