Oy! Coolie … drop your baggage

Train journeys in India are always a unique experience.   Over eight years ago when I started my blogs, I had reminisced ( https://wealthisnotmoney.com/2017/11/11/journey-onwards/) about train travel in my childhood.  My previous blog remains incomplete as I had left out an intrinsic component of the great Indian Train journey – the coolie (porter.)

The dictionary defines a coolie as: “an unskilled laborer, especially formerly in China and India.….” etc.

Young and old coolies are an indelible part of railway platforms across India.  Dressed in the ubiquitous red shirt, each coolie also displays an armband – a small brass tag with a number etched on it – to certify that he is “licensed” by the Indian Railways to work in this capacity. 

A swarm of coolies would start to run alongside a vehicle as it approached the Railway station, stridently asking the occupants of the transport, “Where you going, Sir?  Which train?  Kalka Mail? Platform 3.  Bombay (now Mumbai) Shatabdi?  Platform 6.  How many bags, Madam?  I take it!  Rs. 10 only!”

The nominated coolie would haughtily direct the driver of the car to park before promptly setting about to unload the baggage.  Once it was all lined up outside the station, the coolie would express surprise at the number of bags and/or their size/weight and negotiate for a better rate.  The miffed passenger would retaliate by raising her/his voice and looking over the swarming red-shirted men, shout, “Oy, coolie!  Will someone take these bags to Platform 6?  How much?”  Brotherhood and honour among these men usually meant that no other coolie would step up to replace the one originally selected; some would even support their fellow-coolie, insisting, “Saheb, bahut samaan hai.  Theek rate bolaa hai” (“Sir/Madam, there is a lot of luggage; the rate is right.”)

Haggling concluded, the coolie would bend low and request the passenger and coolies hanging around, to help pile bags (steel trunks in those days!) one atop the other on a wound-up piece of cloth placed on his head.  He would then insert each hand through the handle of a rolled-up and zipped canvas bag “hold-all” (it truly held everything that the ladies of the house wished to transport – from kitchen utensils, bedding and pillows, shoes, woollens and clothes to sundry inconvenient items that could not be stuffed into a suitcase.)  Finally, grabbing the remaining bags in each hand, the coolie would set out at a brisk pace with the accompanying family of travellers struggling to keep up with him.  Adults would shout at the kids to stay close to the appointed coolie lest he decamp with their precious belongings!  Sets of steep stairs rose up to a crossing bridge and led down to the platforms providing access to the train tracks.  Laden down with baggage, the coolie would scamper up and down these stairs seemingly effortlessly while we breathlessly struggled to keep up.

As the train rolled on to the platform, the coolie knew precisely where each “bogey” (coach) in which the passengers had their allotted seats, would come to a halt.  They would scramble through the narrow carriage doorway and place the family’s luggage where it belonged.  A final haggling over money would invariably occur before the coolie departed with a “salaam” (and a smile, on receiving an unexpected tip.)

Baggage drop-off concluded, the coolies would gather together for a smoke and relax over a cup of tea.

A couple of days ago a dear friend and I were chatting about the depressing state of affairs globally.  Politicians and bigots are busy generating divisive issues using a “us” versus “them” binary.  History is distorted or misrepresented to highlight imagined wrongs perpetuated by one community on another.  Human rights are not just being violated, rampant genocide is selectively obliterating the human race.  Examples – some real, but mostly imaginary or concocted – are used to convince “us” that we are the aggrieved party and that “they” have to be punished. 

My friend rightly pointed out, “People are carrying around so much baggage that they have reduced themselves to just being coolies.  The actual coolies would drop the baggage off at the end of the day and go home to their family.  But we port around our perceived grievances and refuse to let go of the baggage in our heads.”

I am reminded of a parable related by the mystic Osho.  A seasoned, old Zen master and his pupil were traveling from one monastery to another.  They were celibate monks, who came to a river in spate, which they had to cross.  A young woman in expensive clothes was waiting to cross but was afraid to do so, not least because she did not want her dress ruined.  The older monk, without much ado, carried her on his shoulders and soon they reached the other bank, where he set her down.  The lady went her way and the two monks continued their walk in silence.  The younger monk was really upset, finding the other monk’s act disturbing.  As per their injunctions, they were not allowed to look at, let alone touch a woman, and yet the master had carried her on his shoulders and all the way across the river!  After a few hours the confused monk couldn’t stand the thought of what had happened which kept filling his mind, and so he began to berate the older monk, “We are not allowed to look at other women, not touch them, but you carried that woman.”  “Which woman?” replied the older monk.  “The woman you carried on your shoulders across the river!”  The other monk paused and with a smile on his lips he said, “I put her down when I crossed the river, are you still carrying her?”