Each crowd had a language of its own and spoke among themselves without the
fear of being overheard. Something as ubiquitous as dal tasted like sambar in the
South, gaining its dalness as we climbed up to Orissa; tea was called, chya, chai
and sa, while coffee was kafl, kaapi, and koffee. For a person with limited skills
when it comes to learning and understanding new languages, this was my Train of
Babel.
But I was clearly in a minority. The train had in it soldiers from the south going
back to patrol borders far away from home, and workers from the east going back
home on a much-need break - both serving as the connection between various
parts of the country. These were the polyglots, speaking in tongues that had no
relation with their own, at times in functional, curt phrases, or with flourishOn the train, it was soon clear how important this was for those from the South and
Northeast. Every second passenger was a defence personnel, a majority of them
belonging to the oldest regiment of Indian Army, the Madras regiment, and the
Assam Rifles. The other half was made up of labourers from the east and further
east - the seven sisters of the Northeast. The former protects, the latter serves.
The third kind of passengers were those from the North and Northeast, forced to
come down thousands of kilometres for quality medical care. P. Gupta, the patriarch
of a family from Dimapur, Nagaland, had come to the CMC Hospital in Vellore,
where he underwent check-ups for his various ailments.
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