Train Talk

I climbed onto the train, found an empty seat pretty quickly and settled down with my book. He came in soon after and sat in the seat in front of me. 'Morgen!', he said enthusiastically. I looked up, smiled at him and wished him the same. He looked about fifty years old (he later told me he was forty six), a little disheveled, and wore a ready smile on his face. It wasn't long before he started a conversation.

'Are you from Pakistan?', he queried. No, i replied and told him where i was from. 'Oh, bad caste system there, right?' was his immediate response. I was a little taken aback. The first queries i have had to answer have almost always been about the population, the poverty or about the IT industry. This was the first time someone had asked me about the caste system. I should have probably guessed then, but i just proceeded to shut the book i was reading. I, then explained to him how it was a good thing when it was conceived, but went awry along the way. I told him that in the last few years, at least in the bigger cities, the cleave was beginning to disappear.

'Oh, we have big problems in Karlsruhe'. I gathered he was from there. I asked him what they were. He said that, on some weekends, when he was really hungry, he would buy a chocolate and after eating it, he couldn't find a waste basket to throw the wrapper into. 'I walk five minutes, then walk ten minutes, then walk fifteen minutes, then walk twenty minutes - and Ah! i find the waste basket' - he said, along with his action of walking and apparent disappointment at the intervals. 'I write letters to the kaiser, but i still face the same problem'. i pretended to empathize.

'Do you have any brothers and sisters?', he asked almost instantly even as i was wondering if there were still any kaisers around. Yes, i replied. I told him about my sister. He told me he now had two brothers. 'Now?', i asked. He told me he had one more brother but he died because he drank too much. He, then told me his father was killed in a road accident. 'I was only 10 years old then, but i was so scarred. i still don't drive car'. I never had had such a personal conversation with a complete stranger. So, i prodded. I asked him if he had any children. 'No, i had a woman and had a boy with her. He lives with her. He's fifteen years old now.' He didn't say that with pride, though and there was a little hint of disappointment in his voice. It was soon evident why. 'I meet him sometimes. She does not have money to send him to good school. He smokes and drinks.' He snapped out of it soon enough - 'I did it too, and i have fine now. So, he'll be allright!', he exclaimed and laughed. I managed a smile too.

A little small talk soon followed where we asked each other where we were going. 'You are traveling alone, then?'. I was beginning to believe he was asking his questions, only so that he could answer them. Yes, i replied and waited for him to say something. 'I had a woman who traveled in India, alone. She went in the bus with many people. She told me many stories when she came back. Very friendly people in India, i heard!' he completed, with a wink. i muttered something in embarrassment. 'A lot of people in India', he said. I agreed. 'So, there is lot of sex?', he asked earnestly. Yes, it does follow logically from the first statement, i agreed. 'My first woman was not very good. Now, i am with different woman. She is very good.' I didn't quite like where this was heading. i just smiled and made an involuntary, inane hand gesture.

He then told me he was a cook and made the best duck in town. He invited me for lunch. I would love to come, i lied. He asked me if i was a student. I told him where i worked. 'Ah, SAP. So you must be making a lot of money, eh?', he asked. Isn't he capable of asking even one cliched question, i wondered. I shrugged and made some sound that you make when someone asks you if you make too much money. 'Oh, i have a lot of money', he almost boasted. And went to tell me how he buys a lottery ticket every week, but has never won anything yet. I told him i thought the lottery was a big hoax. He seemed to agree. He, then told me that his favorite show on television was the German version of 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire'. He said he watched the show regularly, tried to guess the answers and made a note of the amount of money he would have won at the end of every show. I asked him why he didn't try to take part in the show. He laughed and said, the maximum he has 'won' in all the shows so far was a thousand euros. He said he would take part when he 'wins' a million. i wished him luck.

An hour passed in a breeze with him telling me how he was never taught English during school and had to learn it when he was in Canada and how much he loved cycling, photography and his new woman (not necessarily in that order) amidst talking about global warming, him trying to pronounce my name and both of us praising German beer (one of us is a hypocrite). Finally, we had to get off and he said 'wow! we have reached already? It was a pleasure talking to you!' I told him that the pleasure was all mine. He then gave me his address in Karlsruhe and asked me to visit him sometime. I promised i would.

Finally, as we were about to get off the train, he said 'You probably will not believe it, but i have been termed a maniac by doctors'. I gave him a puzzled look. He told me he used to inhale a lot of marijuana when he was young and it had damaged his nervous system and his brain beyond imagination. He had stopped taking marijuana for the last few years, but he had to take regular medication to stay sane - 'If i don't take two shots (injections) everyday, i am, medically, a maniac. I forgot to take them today', he confessed. 'You don't seem like one', i murmured as i got off the train.

He smiled, waved goodbye and said 'I hope you are in good health when you return' - i think there is a German equivalent to that, that he had translated to English. I waved back and wished him the same.