Matrimonial Ads and the Mood in the Train

Saw a sign today on the back of a car – “Driver in training Please keep 30 foot distance.” The driver of the rickshaw I was in gave a good five feet. The motorcycle next to us gave at least two.

I’ve been reading the matrimonial section of the newspaper. They're interesting. For example: “Looking for well-educated Gupta boy in business position from good family for very pretty girl with Master’s degree earning 8 lakh (800,000 rupees) per annum.” Or “seeking beautiful girl with job in United States for wheatish boy with government position. Has three white spots on lower rear-left thigh.”

(…well, I mean, c’mon…that’s not the kinda thing you wanna only find out after you’ve had the week-long wedding, is it?)

Anyway, regarding this “Gupta boy” thing, apparently Gupta is a caste. (I asked, “They’re looking for someone with the name Gupta?” My friends answered, “No, that’s the name of a caste…but yeah, he’ll probably be named Gupta.”

Wheatish means not very light complexioned, but not dark. (Hence, not really really desireable color-wise, but probably not pitch black either.) It’s the kind of thinking that motivates the comment I heard the other day: “He’s handsome, even though he’s dark” (so stated because the speaker thought he might be judged as less handsome than he was because of his skin color, not because she judged him so.) But, actually, a recent survey indicated that most Bombayites don’t have a mating preference when it comes to skin color, and I haven't noticed that anyone cares.

Anyway, having read these matrimonial ads, I’m thinking of making up one of my own: Seeking very beautiful, extremely rich, obscenely well-educated, grotesquely well-mannered girl for U.S. boy. Has white, spot-on body.

Rode the train again the other day. The teenaged boys hang out the doors of a train as any self-respecting dog would, given the opportunity. Holding with one arm onto the door frame, or closest balance pole, they stick their pomaded heads out into the train-created breeze. Inside the general (as opposed to women’s), second-class compartment of the commuter trains, dozens upon dozens of collared-shirt, khaki-pants-wearing men and boys read the paper, sleep, or stare into space. Or into the hair or chest or shoulder of the guy next to them. The arrival of a much-awaited and packed train at a station precipitates an explosion of people through the doors – sometimes on, sometimes off, sometimes both. The disembarkers rush to beat the tidal wave of boarders, and the boarders jump on before full arrest of the train to beat their less daring or able competitors and secure a more desirable position.

It’s all a lot like a race. There’s a mad dash and the mutual awareness of competition occurring, but it’s all in good sport. No one’s left with hard feelings afterwards. Most people, except the occasional deep sleeper, goes out of his way to accommodate as much of the fourth person as possible on seats that comfortable fit three (but are only given that luxury during very low-volume times). A window seat provides several advantages – the weather here is hot enough even in the dead of this record-settingly cold winter (The low last week reached 48 F, thus requiring some Mumbaikers to go as far as putting some kind of hat or scarf on the top of their one-long-sleeved-shirt, one-pair-of-khaki-pants-wearing bodies. I have to admit that I even shivered 3 or 4 times, all of them occurring while outside at night in a T-shirt, shorts, and sandals, while in a no-door-possessing rickshaw going about 25 mph.) Like I said, the weather is usually hot enough even without other people packed around you like sardines. So a seat in general keeps you from being so tightly packed, and a window seat offers a breeze, passing scenery to look at, and something out of which to spit your tobacco juice.

Despite all this competition, the general compartment is a generally nice place, and generally quiet too. Unless you have some group of crazy singers (I experienced it on my first trip only, but it started soon after I got on, and lasted until the train got to the final destination 50 minutes later, complete with a percussionist on a drum.) But it's generally civil in the general compartment (in attitude if not in personal space allotment) and quiet. From what I hear, the ladies’ compartment is often noisy with arguments over seats or general gossip and conversations. Women may ride in the general compartment, but the ladies’ compartments are for women only. Apparently they were made to help the women avoid any unwanted contact with the men, who apparently have no such problem when it comes to the women, as there are no men's only compartments.