The Ticket Man

Today I am going to visit Erin in Kottayam, and I have to take the train. This makes me slightly nervous because, as many times as I’ve taken trains in India, I’ve only ever taken one all by myself one time; and that was just to Ernakulam, an easy 20 minutes away by rail. Kottayam is a good two hours, and I’ve never bought a ticket to get there before, so it makes me a little nervous.

I decided that, to avoid stress on the day of departure (today), I would book my ticket in advance. It's not necessary to do that, but I felt it was necessary for my peace of mind. So I went to the train station on Sunday afternoon, waited in a long line while people around me pushed, shoved, and butted their ways up to the front, and finally got to the counter. In as confident a voice as I could find in my throat, I said to the ticket man: "I need to go to Kottayam on Tuesday sometime after lunch. Can I reserve a ticket?"

I expected him to look at me like I had to be the stupidest thing on the planet, perhaps because I felt that way, but he was actually incredibly kind to me. He checked his computer and told me that I could catch a 1:15 train to Kottayam for 32 rupees. That sounded great to me, so I asked if I could reserve a seat. With a sort of patience that I have never experienced and would never expect from the excitable people of this culture, he told me that the seats on this train aren’t reserved. You just get on and hope to find an empty seat. Well, that’s no problem, so I purchased the ticket. "And only 32 rupees!" the ticket man said proudly and smiled while he counted my money.

As he handed over the small piece of paper that would allow me admittance on a particular moving car, I shyly asked him if he could write down the train number for me. That way, I'd know what platform to stand on and, ultimately, what train to embark. He smiled as sweetly as could be and said, "Don’t worry. You come here at 1:00 on Tuesday, and we’ll help you. It won’t be a problem."

I’m still a little nervous, but the ticket man's kindness convinced me that he is right. I need not worry. Someone will help me. And it won’t be a problem at all. If I’m willing to ask, someone is always willing to answer. If I’m willing to request it, someone is always willing to provide help. And, no, not everyone responds to me with the same patience and understanding that this kind ticket man did, but I doubt that anyone (even the ones that roll their eyes at me when my back is turned) thinks I’m the stupidest thing alive. And who knew you could learn that lesson from a kind ticket man at the train station counter?