Powerful Memory
Jose 1 Jeneeshia Jose Dr. Powell IB English 25 August 2013
Seat 43: The Train Ride in India
“Tickets please! Ticket? Ticket?” barked the conductor. My mom gripped my hand making sure I would not be rambled with the avalanches of angry, impatient Indians. I looked up and saw the faces of brown in many shades. Some had mustaches and some had bindis. All of them practically raped me to get inside the Malabar Express Train. My dad, in rage, shoved the five tickets at the conductor’s face along with the rest of them. The conductor snatched all of the five tickets and gave one blank stare at me.
“Proceed” the conductor announces. My sister leaped onto the train following her was my dad, mom, younger brother and me. I was so puzzled. Where do I turn? Which of the seats are mine? How will we all fit if the train is full?
“Seat 43. Finally!” My mom disencumbers us all. I sat down in the leathery, sky blue seat. The windows reminded me of prison. The navy blue bars of steel stopped the silly kids from putting their heads out. The smell on the train was so horrid: a big blob of dirt. The poorly dressed man was selling nuts or in other words making a living outside the jail windows. The ten year old me as usual pleaded to my dad in the sight of food. My dad offered me 10 Rupees. He could relate since his ten year old self never left him. The man’s eyes
Seat 43: The Train Ride in India
“Tickets please! Ticket? Ticket?” barked the conductor. My mom gripped my hand making sure I would not be rambled with the avalanches of angry, impatient Indians. I looked up and saw the faces of brown in many shades. Some had mustaches and some had bindis. All of them practically raped me to get inside the Malabar Express Train. My dad, in rage, shoved the five tickets at the conductor’s face along with the rest of them. The conductor snatched all of the five tickets and gave one blank stare at me.
“Proceed” the conductor announces. My sister leaped onto the train following her was my dad, mom, younger brother and me. I was so puzzled. Where do I turn? Which of the seats are mine? How will we all fit if the train is full?
“Seat 43. Finally!” My mom disencumbers us all. I sat down in the leathery, sky blue seat. The windows reminded me of prison. The navy blue bars of steel stopped the silly kids from putting their heads out. The smell on the train was so horrid: a big blob of dirt. The poorly dressed man was selling nuts or in other words making a living outside the jail windows. The ten year old me as usual pleaded to my dad in the sight of food. My dad offered me 10 Rupees. He could relate since his ten year old self never left him. The man’s eyes