By Sanjit Laishram
It was a cold Delhi morning when I boarded the Delhi-Dehradun Shatabdi Express from New Delhi Station (NDLS). On the way to the platform, I picked up some newspapers from the street vendor to read during my five hour journey, to my destination. It was more of a tourist train then the regular trains which we normally travel. I was going to Dehradun for my office work; it was a three day official trip to meet my company clients in and around Dehradun. Since, it was my second visit to Dehradun; I was familiar with the terrain and areas of the surrounding area. When I reached my coach, I found out that I was in the last row with a seat by the right window, seating beside an American family. A lady accompanied by two little girls. I presumed they were her daughters and rightly so.
After a few minutes of early morning hustle and commotion, things began to settle down after the train started moving. There were a lot of foreign tourists in the train and most of them were all heading for Haridwar, a holy place near to the Ganges and its Hindu temples. As we were moving out of Delhi, I saw the American lady whispering to the ears of her younger daughter, The young girl seemed to be asking her for some candies or potato chips. She was convincing her young daughter that it was too early to have them. Instead, she gave her two daughters a DVD player to watch movies during the journey.
Only then did she settled down in her right beside me. She shook her head and whispered to me about her little daughters saying, “Girls! They want to have chocolates and chips in the morning”. I smiled back . She introduced herself as Linda, I told her my name and we shook hands. Then she continued saying she was going for her daughters’ school summer camp in Mussorie, a hill station 35 kms from Dehradun and situated in the foothills of the Garhwal Himalayan ranges, it is also known as the Queen of the Hills. It was that period of the year when schools would conduct special camps in hill stations away form the city buzz.
Then she inquired whether I was from Nagaland, I was surprised to hear an American asking about a North Eastern state of India, when most citizens of India doubt about its geographical existence. I replied that I was from Manipur. She said that there were three Naga women working in her husband’s Trust in Delhi. Her husband worked for an educational Trust in New Delhi and covering many Indian states including the North East. When I asked about the Trust`s existence in Manipur, she said that they were planning to start the trust in other north eastern states including Manipur. As Nagaland and Mizoram had a sizeable number of Christian population it was easy for them to establish their network easily. For me, it was heartening to see an American family working in India to promote education for children belonging to the underprivileged sections of the society.
When asked about the Indian education system as compared with America, Linda said, “Indian education focus more on text book studies with less extra curricular activities. Only a few schools in India conduct those activities on a regular basis. In America, schools focus more on developing value added activities along with the text book studies” . Linda had also heard about the militancy problem in North East region and about the Indian Army being stationed in the states. Before I could reply back, she continued saying about North Eastern people are very hard working, friendly and dedicated. .
The train journey went off while catching up with what Linda loved to do and how her family spent time in Delhi. There were socio political elements to conversation and we talked at length on FDI in India, what it meant to have Obama heading the Government in the US, about military aid from America. Soon, we heard that we would be reaching Mussorie in another 15 minutes. When I saw that she had four heavy camping bags, I offered to help her and helped carry two of her bags till the Taxi stand. Linda looked overwhelmed by this gesture and holding my head, bowed down and murmured so softly that I could not make out what she was saying. But it looked like she was saying a soft prayer for me and for some strange reason, I felt good. I knew I would never meet them ever again. I would never know what she has blessed me with but I would live with the unknown blessing!
(Sanjit Laishram is a Management Graduate and a Mass Communication Student in Manipur University)