You don't really need the window seat to see India. She is in display inside the compartment of the train itself. Difference in the flora, terrain and weather outside as we cross different states is clearly visible; inside too, there is so much variety on exhibit. People from different parts of India, brought together in a moving vehicle, bring with them alluring slices of India. The attire, language, food, behaviour give away their origin. The uptight southies and the loud northies are ubiquitous. West and East Indians also display their uniqueness. South Indians with the exception of mallus carry the essential rice-packs (curd rice, lemon rice). Mallus get their fish curry-rice and act oblivious to the stink they spread around. The Punjus and the north Indians take over the bogie with their booming voice and parathas. They have many complaints against the food (especially south Indian) available on the train, nonetheless, they eat everything. Gujjus make the best co-passengers (where food is concerned...rest, I won't vouchsafe). I have been advised by (wise)friends to praise their food and be assured of being well-taken care of throughout the journey. They do not compromise a teeny weeny bit where their food is concerned and even carry raw vegetables and knife for the journey. So, you have this gujju family making bhelpuri in the train and gulping it down with bottles of homemade chaas; and there you have this family from the Hindi belt gorging on puri and aloo ki sabzi.
However, there is rarely an attempt to appreciate the differences. Everyone is smug about his way of living. There is no real sharing, just a semblance of co-existence...All are in their own little compartments. This is my India...
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