A couple of pleasures

Trains hold very little nostalgia value for me.. it consists of primarily rowdy companions and bad stenches and well.. am sure you get the picture. So every train journey I try and withdraw as inward as possible. In such situations am not very observant and well.. quite surly. Despite such demeanour there are people who smile at me.. its a wonder.. they must genuinely be good people. But thats not all I noticed on my journey back home a couple of days ago.

Around me sat four couples all in various stages of matrimony. The first in the circle was a honeymooning couple who switched seats (berths) with me just be close to each other. It was obvious that they were honeymooners with fading henna swirls on her feet and hands, her coy glances, their feeding each other food, occupying each other's space and talking in really low voices. Am sure they were returning from their honeymoon... excited about beginning their life together.

The second couple with a baby about 18 months old. This couple mostly referred to each other as 'amma' and 'appa', no doubt to get the kiddie to speak. The kid was, well, a kid.. noisy and insistent. But the couple were interesting. I hardly saw them speak to each other, never about anything except the kid and his needs and feeds and usually slept alternatingly. A certain ennui in their behaviour itself. Or may be the kid never gave them a chance to speak otherwise.

The third couple was a husband and wife roughly in the age of late forties and early fifties, just discovering a life without their kids. Very comfortable with each other. The husband very cautious and tender with his wife, she always a step ahead of anticipating his needs. He made sure she was well tucked in before he even made his bed.. errr.. berth.

The fourth was the oldest in the age group. A couple perhaps in their seventies or even early eighties. The lady, clad in a cotton sari and other small indications that even at her age, she still was a 'suhagan' or a married one. A little sindhoor, a small bindi and even toe rings - all there. The husband with snow white hair but all hair still there. Dressed in a grey sweater, grey T-shirt and grey trousers, he had the countenance of a ex-forces gentleman. They carried steel glasses to have water in, a loaf of bread with jam and butter and lunch and dinner - a a jute bag that loudly proclaimed 'Don't use plastic'.

He, too, took immense care of her. She, of him. They did not feed each other but always split everything they ate, including the last batata vada. Absolute comfort and no need for any conversation. I kept wondering what each couple must have been at every other phase that me included, everyone was observing.

It felt nice to watch them because I could alternate and not appear obvious. Twenty-four hours of them and except for the couple with the child, not one of the other six ever lost their tempers.

I came home with these pictures, thinking it must be good to have such a person who truly is your half. Only to hear that my aunt lost her husband, at 35. She now has a son, who is a few years old, and will have to become strong for her son and will not experience all these slight changes in her relationship.