The train ride

I took a train. A long one. From Aurangabad to Varanasi. It was the best train ride ever. It was quite comfortable as the number of present passengers in the compartment exceeded the designed number not even twice. And the landscape was beautiful. Villages and villages on the plain of forests. Cows and a group of children under a tree.
My comrades were nice. They didn’t speak English much, but of course they were curious so they started the opening conversation. It’s the very usual one, even with someone who is walking next to you on a street. It goes like this:
“Which country you belong?”
“I’m from Czech Republic.”
“Before it was Czechoslovakia. It’s in the middle of Europe. Next to Germany.”
“Germany! Nice country! What’s your qualification?”
“Well, I study university of you are asking that.”
“How much money do you make and how?”
“Ehm. A little and in many ways. I’m sorry…”
“Are you married?”
“How old you?”
“How many brothers sisters?”
“I have one younger sister.”
“No brothers?”
“Really no brothers?”
“I’ve one sister.”
“Parents life?”
“Your parents still live?”
“Well yeas, they are alive.”
“Now there is a strong friendship between us. Do you want to be friends for life?”
“Ehm, yeah, I can give you my e-mail.”
“Can I come to your wedding party?”
“Can I come to your country? Can you help me get a job and a wife?”
“No man. I can’t do that.”
Then they sometimes try to shake hands and you part and you never see each other again. But now I was on the train so we sat in silence for long hours. At one moment one of them took my book. I was reading A Brief History Of Time by Stephen Hawking. In very slow bad pronunciation he was reading aloud sentences describing the behavior of particles as seen by quantum physics. I was thinking whether it is funny. I guess it’s not. Sharing data. That’s the best. (In fact, some great scientists came from India. And they introduced the zero to mathematics.)
After another hours I was blown a sudden question into my face. “You Muslim?” That’s interesting thing about Muslims, how they ask after your belief almost expecting you are a Muslim of course. Wherever from my experience. Even the ones who know your country somewhat. A friend once told me about an African taxi driver in London saying “So you are from Czech Republic? I know. Prague, Havel, Karlovy Vary. … And you are all Muslims there, right?”

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4 Responses to The train ride

  1. Jara Uličník says:

    Zdar mrkni se na tyhle videa, myslim že se ti budou líbit, PEACE and parodie na to
    Pravda o FB-
    mej se :-D

    • Man, dik za koment :-) S tema linkama jsem te musel lovit ze site na spamery :-) Na videjka se podivam velice rad, jenze tady fici net na modemu a jedny sluchatka si pujcujou tri vesnice. Takze se na ne podivam az doma :-D

      Kazdopadne jsem rad, ze ses tady vyjevil!

  2. Jara Uličník says:

    Okej, jen mi to přišlo strašně směšné a boží pro tvé oko a ucho :-) Žij

    • Jara Uličník says:

      Jinak překládáme s Alenou tve historky a bavíme se u nich :-) Až přijedeš tak nás jimi určitě ještě víc zahltíš a navíc se svými super vypravěčskými schopnostmi, tším se na tvuj budoucí příjezd z5 :-)

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