They say imitation is the best form of flattery. I remember the enjoyable moments reading the works of Sri Delima, aka Adibah Amin of the same title. It brings with it the spirit of nostalgia and romance from a bygone era, the charms of which are totally lost in today's' fast changing world.
Somehow or rather, I am reminded of the time where interstate travel was best done by utilizing the railways. My favorite is the night train called the Senandung Malam from Singapore to Kuala Lumpur. As a school going teenager in Petaling Jaya with a 'kampung' in Johor Bahru, I would be making the inevitable pilgrimage back to JB every school holidays and back again when it's time to get back to school and all the realities with it.
Looking back, the journeys to and fro are some of the most distinct memories that I can recall from the period. It was really a romance from a bygone era. I would start off by walking from Kg Tunku to SEA Park in PJ via shortcuts to grab another piece of museum artifact, the Minibus. The exhilarating ride in one of the most efficient public transport service ever would take me right up to the railway station, and the start of my main adventure.
Why not get my uncle to send me to the station by car? Well, that would chip away a chunk of my adventure experience, and we wouldn't want that, would we?
The next steps would involve the purchase of ticket and making my way down to the allocated platform. It is an experience by itself as you walk through the underground tunnel to emerge at your designated platform with a feeling of awe at the grandeur, majesty and history of the place.
I recall a particularly memorable experience at the station. It was the height of John Travolta's Saturday Night Fever and true to the times, I was decked in a cream polyester pants, tropical shirt with floral patterns, a sling bag (the ladies might want to call it a handbag, but it's not. I'm a man, you see!) and to top it off, I was decked in my one month old shiny genuine crocodile leather top two inch heels! Yes, exactly like the genuine article from the movie!
The excitement starts at the ticket counter when right after handing over my ticket, the counter clerk told me; 'Platform 3. Hurry up. The train is leaving! I was also carrying a standard suitcase with about a weeks worth of articles packed!
What to do? Immediately, I crossed the gates (with sympathetic guards urging me on) and bounded down the stairs through the tunnel to emerge at the platform, in all my finery, luggage and two inch heels, which just makes the short journey very interesting indeed.
Only to find the train slowly pulling out of the station! Not to be outdone (certainly not, after all the running and lugging in heels!) I chased after the train. Suffice to say I eventually managed to throw my luggage into one coach with myself boarding another coach behind it by grabbing on to the handles and hanging on to dear life whilst finding my footing at the staircase. Exhilarating! Oh ya, I still need to find my suitcase from the other coach.
The saving grace was, I was greeted with a short applause after! Expessions of such nature were not a rarity those days.
The real experience of night train riding is however, reserved till the later hours. Upon leaving the station, two social areas would immediately be created by the passengers. One being at the cafeteria whilst the other would be at this place called the train verandah. In those days, there will be verandahs at the ends of every coach. It is a beautiful place, where people would stand holding on to the bannisters, the cool night air brushing against your face and, surprise of all, conversations.
And that's how we while the night and the distance away. The rule is you can talk about anything. Everybody's a stranger with the shared condition of being stuck in the train, up to nine hours for most. This is where romance and sometimes even magic lend itself to the night.
Some will have a can of coke in their hands, others can be seen contorted against the bodywork in a vain effort to light a cigarette (those days we use matches, lighters being the exclusive domains of the rich and James Bond) then, with a lighted cigarette in hand someone will start a conversation. Normally, the opening line would be 'JB or Singapore' and that's how we start, with the click-clacking of the rails underneath, the howl of the wind around us and the night's coolness paying rapt attention to our efforts to connect.
And that's what it's all about, really! To reach out and make a connection with another human being! The conversations were merely the excuse as for the life of me, I can't seem to remember any of it. But strangely enough, I can recall the settings, the environments, even the styles of some of the participants of the verandah sessions in vivid memory.
Talking about the participants, they comes in all shapes and color. There's the young and the old, the urbanites, the quintessential village types, professionals, businessmen, students, factory workers, in short, men and women from all strata of society.
What's the common ground, then? Well we all share this urge to connect. Interestingly, I have not been able to recall meeting up with the religious types from any denominations at the verandah sessions. I wonder why?
And then, there are surprises. Someone might just slide against the railings with a 'Tupperware' in hand. Next thing you know, we are all laughing merrily away with a chicken wing in hand.
Not all encounters started off pleasantly, though. I remember one incident at the cafeteria. Two guys from the Special Forces were noisily making love to their beers. At another table, there was another armed forces personnel of Sikh descent quietly nursing his coffee. A sudden inspiration seem to strike someone from the beer table and the next thing you know, they are singing an army song (derived from a children's song – words will not be reprinted here) that is quite insulting to the Sikh community. Racism rearing it's ugly head, so we all thought. After the third round or so of the same song, it starts to get too much for the lone infantryman and the next thing we knew, he rose up from his table and stride over to the beer table. There follows an argument with words like preserving honor and insult being the centerpiece of the exchange.
All of a sudden, one of the guys at the table stood up, and says....... 'sorry la Singh, we're just having fun'. The other guy follow suit and the next thing you know, the two guys were trying to hug the victim whilst the victim puts up a vain attempt at avoidance. Amidst the reluctance, we suddenly found the victim being seated as a guest at the table and next thing you knew, the beer starts flowing again.
When the tenseness subsides, I waddled out of the cafeteria to my verandah session. Much later, I heard loud noises coming from the cafeteria. Curiosity got the better of me and I make my way back to the cafeteria. Guess what I found?
The three guys (the Sikh included) were giving a throaty rendition of the same offensive song earlier, one arm around each others' shoulder and the other arm holding a can of beer each, for continued nutritive fortification!
Oh, did I mention that all this were happening at around 70kmh with everyone doing their best to maintain their balance. I'm sure we'd all make good samba dancers then.
And so it goes on, we continue with our journey. Some might go back to their seat to sleep whilst for some others that would have been such a waste as there's so many things happening around us.
I remember one particular journey where I would step onto the station every time the train stops just so that I can tell my friends that I have been to all the districts covered by the railroads. In one instance, I even managed to have a whole cup of coffee at the Gemas station! Indeed, one of the finest local coffee I've had.
So what happens when we arrive? We disperse the same way we convene. No painfully pretentious goodbyes, no hugging or dramas of undying friendship, really, nothing of that sort! The most would be a handshake, the norm would be a wave of the hand and bye being the most popular phrase used.
For that moment in time that we we're together, we've shared our thoughts, our dreams, our fears and heaven knows what else. I think that it was one of the most sincere interactions one could find. There is no extraction of loyalty, confidentiality, commitment and what nots. Absolutely nothing of that sort.
We all gave, expecting nothing in return.
For some, they might pass each other on the streets some time later, but chances are, they might not even recognize each other.
You see, at the verandahs, all men are equal.................
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