Serenades on a train

So Indian men are incredibly forward and all sorts of ridiculous in ways that occasionally make for interesting blogging. Of course they will gawk at you in the streets, and actually turn around while walking to keep looking at you. Sometimes they will even come right up to you and stare at you, extending their necks much like turtles do, their miraculously not-blinking eyes only a few inches from your own slightly confused ones before they retreat and walk away. Surprisingly there never seems to be any trees or posts around because it’d be quite funny to watch them crash into something as they walk away still facing you. Posts never seem to exist when they should, but do pop up all the time when you are only trying to walk to the grocery store and end up landing flat on your ass after colliding with a very large, supposedly hard to miss, street sign. But that’s another story for another time.

This story from yesterday takes place on a train. There are no posts in trains. There are however seats and about three times as many people as there are seats. Especially if your mother insists you buy non-reserved seat tickets for a train on a day there is a political rally in the middle of the city. So after yelling and shoving our way onto this train, the sister and I managed to find two seats next to a large group of men of various ages. I try to make myself as comfortable as I can and pull out White Teeth (which by the way is a very good book) and turn on my iPod and begin to mind my own business. After a while though I realize I’m being watched by a guy wearing a bright turquoise shirt with a paisley design in sequins.

I keep reading, guy keeps watching. A few minutes later guy motions to person sitting next to me (I guess they knew each other?) and switches seats so he is now watching me AND looking over my shoulder. I keep reading. I figure a good dose of quality reading would also do guy no harm.

Soon though, I begin to hear singing over the sound of my iPod.

It was unbelievable. This guy was actually singing Bollywood songs to me, on a train.

My first reaction was to stifle a whole lot of laughter. Really what did this guy expect? Me to get up and start dancing to a choreographed routine and for backup dancers to magically sprout from behind other rows and from the overhead luggage racks? Or did he expect me to look at him and go, “yes dude in the blindingly blue shirt, take me now, on the train, I am in love with you because of your screeching in my ear, I can’t live with out you, I can’t wait a second longer!”

So while he serenades, I keep reading with a straight face. Soon he moves closer to me and his elbow is sort of leaning on my side (which is far better and tamer than most Indian men on trains) but because of the rocking motion of the train his elbow is also moving.

Now I’m really ticklish and that elbow motion is bringing on the tickles. But laughing would have been very much the wrong reaction so I have to work even harder at maintaining my straight face.

Guy keeps singing, elbow keeps moving, I keep reading.

Then it got fairly creepy real fast with guy following me out of the train and a ways through the station shouting “when do I get to see you again?” but until then, I was amused in a wry sort of way.

Oh India.

Also, lack of internet access restricted blogging activity in the last few weeks but between now and when I leave this place this weekend, expect all the blogs that got written in my head but didn’t make it into your inboxes J

Also, keeping with last summer’s asking of questions in the blog, what is your weirdest public transport experience?