Day time, somewhere across the Indian Sub-continent,
The one year old baby-boy of one of my fellow travellers has a shit and a pee in the gangway. While I sit and count how many people step into fresh baby-boy shit and urine, the mother is desperately trying to clean it all up with a dirty piece of her sari. I wonder why she doesn`t give her sprout a diaper.
In this part of the world some people are so poor they don`t even have the salt for their soup or diapers for their babies I`m afraid.
Another kid - quite a few years older and belonging to a middle class family - but his more advanced age not withstanding his parents feed him by hand. Not that the little shit appreciates it. He spits his food all around him. In a childish way his dad gives him a soft pad on his behind. Surprised by such "violent" punishment "Señor Grande" screams the whole train together.
The hours strech into yet more endless hours, more boring and exhausting hours. Every so often somebody pulls the emergency brake, they are near the village where they live so why bother waiting untill the next station when you can get off here? Saves you the money for the transport back to your village as well as time.
But everyting has got an end and in pouring rain and late afternoon the train pulls into Trivandrum station, I get off and take an auto-rickshaw for Kovalam.
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