An unaccounted piece of paper

Friday evening, having had enough with a week's work - Priya and I decided to jump in the wagon (quite literally). We packed our bags, went to the station and booked our tickets to Salzburg in Austria. Once we got there, we found a hostel to stay there and roamed around the city for 2 whole days - a backpack trip in its truest sense. I have a blog or two worth of material there. But as of now, I might just focus on one little moment of the trip, promising to return and delve into the trip in greater detail.

I have been wondering for quite sometime how to go about telling you what happened - rather than a chronological narration, let me try something different this time as I guess that would suit the situation best.

So, after two days of trekking, traveling and hectic planning, we found ourselves a seat in the plush intercity trains of germany on our way back home. Priya, after the arduous journey to ice-caves right on top of a mountain, dozed off to sleep right from the word go and I was left reading "The Namesake" by Jhumpa Lahiri for most of the trip. Just as we reached Munich, an elderly couple, who were seated a couple of seats behind, walked upto me and asked me whether I am here for a vacation. I explained to them that I work for SAP and am basically from India. "Of course, you are from India", he said as a matter of fact and asked me my whereabouts in Germany. Having been used to this level of courtesy and curiosity in Europe amidst elderly people, I obediently answered his questions while an elderly lady who must have been his wife was listening to me, smiling. And after a couple of innocous questions, he wished me good luck and walked away. Just as he left, I realised that on my table under the book was a 20 euro note.

~o~

The first time I had met the couple was when they boarded the train - they were talking between themselves wondering whether they could leave their bags in the cycle compartment (in the intercity they have a whole compartment for cycle commuters who can park their cycles and have a seat inside a spacious and sparsely-furnished compartment). I ventured and told them that they can indeed keep their bags in there and offered to help them with the bulky luggage. They politely refused and I was on my way to my seat

~o~

I was flabbergasted to say the least. But one thing I was not was happy. I had a strange feeling that the money was somehow a sympathetic gesture coz I was from India or probably because I volunteered to help them with their bags - I was not a coolie and there was no way I could take money for that. After a moment of indecision, I rushed towards them. In a couple of minutes, they would get off the train and get lost in the human river that would flood the platform through every vent in the train. They were gazing through the window into the landscape that was fast replaced by the concrete of the platform. "No offence. But I am not sure why you gave me this." I said as I was catching my breath. "Oh, I just wanted you to have a nice vacation. Nothing attached to it" they said and smiled non-chalantly. I didn't know how to take the argument further. I awkwardly stood there for an extra second, wished them bon voyage and walked away

~o~

Just as the train was leaving Salzburg, Priya and I got into a discussion about European culture and their acceptance of nudity as a form of art. We then went on to talk about our culture, the emphasis of sex and eroticism as means to divinity and went on to relate it to christianity and the social responsibilities involved with marriage. As I was having this conversation, I looked at the couple for one fleeting moment. We smiled at eachother for that split second, as if we shared a private joke within ourselves, and went on with our respective conversations.

~o~

Priya welcomed me with the same look of bewilderment and surprise that was painted all over my face. We were trying to figure out why they would have done that, she coming up with her own set of weird reasons to pull my leg, ("they probably found your gesture very genuine", "they probably have a lot of black money and want to dispose it", "they probably give such money to guys they find smart" ... yada yada). I was absolutely clueless - after a couple of minutes, they were still standing close to the door avoiding my glance deeply involved in an animated conversation. The station finally arrived and just before they got down, they looked at me and smiled - there was no sarcasm or pity there. It was a pleasant curve carved on their faces out of the knowledge that we will never be meeting again. I wanted to ask them who they were, know something, anything about them to paint this memory a little deeper. But they were gone ... never to be seen again

I went back to the conversation Priya and I were having on Indian culture - to that knowing smile, to that as-a-matter-of-fact, "Of course you are from India". Was he impressed by our cultural inclinations (too much!!)? Did I unknowingly drop a hint that I was in need of money? or say we were poor? The reason that I was from India seemed ridiculous. I am travelling in a posh intercity and am working for one of the most powerful software companies in the world. WHO doesn't take care of us nor did the flood of haiti kiss our beaches. I left the note at the same place where they had kept it staring at it every now and then. I know I didn't have to feel guilty about anything. I guess I felt cheap, hurt my ego by getting that money from them. Deep down I felt, I had to give the 20 euro note back to them coz I didn't do anything to deserve it. Just as everytime, I wanted to play the moment once again so that I can change my course of action.

As stations came and went, a dozen passengers passed by my seat staring at the 20 euro note. A swiss gentleman took the seat next to me and looked suspiciously at it for sometime before engaging in a conversation on formal nothings with me. 5 hours later, the train finally stopped at Bruschal and I had to leave. I packed my books and my ticket into my bag and promised to keep in touch with the swiss gentleman. I stared at the Euro note wondering what it really meant to me. Priya had walked in front and was waiting by the door. I took my eyes off it and started off towards the door. Just before crossing my seat, I turned, picked the note and put it in my pocket and never looked at the seat again.