Countdown begins

„Passengers, your kind attention please! Train number 12606 from Trichy junction to Chennai Egmore will leave from platform number 5 in 10 minutes.” screams the recorded female voice at the Trichy railway station. The announcement continues with the same message in Tamil and in Hindi. Since my childhood, the voice and the tone have remained the same. When I was a kid, I thought that there was a lady sitting on the roof of the railway station monitoring the incoming and outgoing trains and announcing through the microphone to alert everyone so that they could catch their trains. I always wanted to see her, say hello and appreciate her great work. 

“Enaku kaapi venam inum 10 minutes la train kelambidum!” [I don’t want coffee, the train leaves in 10 minutes], I say. Appa never listens! He insists I finish the coffee quickly and run to the platform. This routine repeats every month when I come home for the weekend and leave for Chennai on Monday mornings around 6 AM. I hop onto the train with Appa’s help; he puts my bag in the luggage space and waits until the train is about to leave before getting off. I wave goodbye through the window until I couldn’t see him any more. I usually book a window seat, which is easier since Amma works for the railways. This waving goodbye moment was very sentimental during my initial years of moving to Chennai, but now it’s my journey back to my free world.

I learnt to be independent only after I moved to Chennai. The restrictions on my life have eased. I live in a ladies’ hostel, sharing a small room with three other women who work for different IT companies. There are many such hostels offering three meals and housekeeping. I have lots of friends at the hostel. The wardens and guards are a bit strict about the timing of our return in the night, but otherwise, no one restricts where we can go. Moving freely in the city is so relaxing compared to Trichy, where I always had to go everywhere with Amma or Appa and come straight home after college. I couldn’t wander around with my friends without their permission. My parents think being strict prevents wrongdoing, but they don’t realise that kids like me will do what we want at any cost and just lie about it!

I rush into the office, hiding myself from that one person : Srini, my manager. But it looks like I am unlucky today, he walks right towards me and says “Inaikum late ah?” [So you are late today as well?] “Athu vanthu… Train late!” [Um….the train was delayed!] I defend. “At least think of another reason next time!” says Srini.

Well, I don’t mind being late on Mondays when I return from Trichy. On other days, our office cab picks me up and drops me off after work to align with European client timings, which often means working late due to daylight saving (having a work-life balance seems like a distant dream). This is one of many outsourced projects from India. I’d rather have time off than work weekends for 800 rupees a day. Unfortunately, getting into a support project feels like a tunnel with no exit. In my team, my hard work has earned me top ratings in performance appraisals over the years. That’s one reason Srini doesn’t fully resent me for being late, chaotic, or forgetful. I sit at my desk and glance at the poster, which reads: “Nothing happens unless first a dream.”