Whenever I stepped into the Chennai Mofussil Bus Terminus on Sunday nights, the heart would get heavy for two reasons.
In the 20 minute spare time that I would always gift myself with, before my bus ride to Bangalore, I would seat myself by a corner and look around the terminus. People would rush with their baggage and babies to board buses scheduled to leave 10 minutes earlier. People would rush with their baggage and babies, having deboarded from buses that were scheduled to arrive an hour earlier. And amidst this wave of incoming and outgoing people, who would always have a destination to reach, one that would be different from the one in their hearts, seated or sleeping would be a large group of men and women with no destination to travel and reside. These people also possess their own baggage, but more on their minds than the ones below their heads and beside their bodies.
Strangely or perhaps not, a line from the Tamil song 'Vidai kodu engal naadae' comes to mind.
"Thalaiyil konjam, nenjil athigam, sumaigal sumanthu pogindrom."
A line used to describe the Sri Lankan Tamils, many of whom were forced to become refugees, seems appropriate even for the men and women who carry no bus tickets inside the terminus.
At times, as I would survey this group of men and women, certain people would grab my attention. Like a 50-60 year old man, who I noticed during 3 of my visits, constantly reading a newspaper. Like a happy old couple lost in conversation and time. Like a very old woman with a smile glued to her face.
I would wonder about the cause for their destination being the terminus.
Death of the last remaining family member? Ignorance of every remaining family member? Lack of a proper financial planning for their old age when they were young? Globalization? Urbanization?
An article that I came across some time ago explained the adverse effects that globalization, through its creation of nuclear families, was projecting on the older Indian population. Which made me ponder upon the plight of numerous old fathers and mothers, who suffered not from lack of money but from lack of care. With sons and daughters working in faraway cities, with ambitious loans resting comfortably at their backyards, with brothers and sisters scattered owing to corporate convenience, these fathers and mothers do not seem to lack a destination but just a proper home, unlike the earlier group who have neither.
I wonder why the destitute men and women choose a bus terminus as their home. Maybe for the easy access to food and washrooms. Maybe in wait of the day when they would get a destination to board a bus to. Maybe to serve as reminders for the sons and daughters, who travel to their hometowns once/twice/thrice a month, of the state of a lonely parent.
As these thoughts flood my mind, I silently walk to the bedroom where my mother is sound asleep. I had felt happy that I had made my mother shift from my native city to my work city in just 2 years since I started working. But with these thoughts, the 2 years make me experience a sense of guilt. I just whisper 'Sorry' and exit the bedroom, realizing that it would never suffice, neither for the 2 years nor for the countless old, destitute men and women at the Chennai Mofussil Bus Terminus.
- The feeling of leaving behind a home and a Metropolitan that get closer in 2 days than a flat and a city that stay together for 28 days
- The sight of countless old, destitute men and women
In the 20 minute spare time that I would always gift myself with, before my bus ride to Bangalore, I would seat myself by a corner and look around the terminus. People would rush with their baggage and babies to board buses scheduled to leave 10 minutes earlier. People would rush with their baggage and babies, having deboarded from buses that were scheduled to arrive an hour earlier. And amidst this wave of incoming and outgoing people, who would always have a destination to reach, one that would be different from the one in their hearts, seated or sleeping would be a large group of men and women with no destination to travel and reside. These people also possess their own baggage, but more on their minds than the ones below their heads and beside their bodies.
Strangely or perhaps not, a line from the Tamil song 'Vidai kodu engal naadae' comes to mind.
"Thalaiyil konjam, nenjil athigam, sumaigal sumanthu pogindrom."
A line used to describe the Sri Lankan Tamils, many of whom were forced to become refugees, seems appropriate even for the men and women who carry no bus tickets inside the terminus.
At times, as I would survey this group of men and women, certain people would grab my attention. Like a 50-60 year old man, who I noticed during 3 of my visits, constantly reading a newspaper. Like a happy old couple lost in conversation and time. Like a very old woman with a smile glued to her face.
I would wonder about the cause for their destination being the terminus.
Death of the last remaining family member? Ignorance of every remaining family member? Lack of a proper financial planning for their old age when they were young? Globalization? Urbanization?
An article that I came across some time ago explained the adverse effects that globalization, through its creation of nuclear families, was projecting on the older Indian population. Which made me ponder upon the plight of numerous old fathers and mothers, who suffered not from lack of money but from lack of care. With sons and daughters working in faraway cities, with ambitious loans resting comfortably at their backyards, with brothers and sisters scattered owing to corporate convenience, these fathers and mothers do not seem to lack a destination but just a proper home, unlike the earlier group who have neither.
I wonder why the destitute men and women choose a bus terminus as their home. Maybe for the easy access to food and washrooms. Maybe in wait of the day when they would get a destination to board a bus to. Maybe to serve as reminders for the sons and daughters, who travel to their hometowns once/twice/thrice a month, of the state of a lonely parent.
As these thoughts flood my mind, I silently walk to the bedroom where my mother is sound asleep. I had felt happy that I had made my mother shift from my native city to my work city in just 2 years since I started working. But with these thoughts, the 2 years make me experience a sense of guilt. I just whisper 'Sorry' and exit the bedroom, realizing that it would never suffice, neither for the 2 years nor for the countless old, destitute men and women at the Chennai Mofussil Bus Terminus.
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