We were traveling from La Spazia to Torino. We, three of us, Jhuma, Bittu and me, left Florence in early morning and came to Pisa. There we spent a few hours in the Miracle Square to visit the famous leaning tower and other monuments nearby. Bittu was just six then and was not allowed to go up the tower. So we had to keep ourselves restricted in enjoying the green and colorful surrounding around it. From Pisa we came to Monti Rosso via La Spazia to have a view of long stretch of Italian Riviera, surrounded by marble rocks and cliffs hanging over the sea. In the late afternoon we again returned back to La Spazia, and then in the evening, boarded the train to Torino. Actually our journey was long enough. We intended to go to Rene via Paris. However, we could not manage to get a direct train to Paris. So we were traveling to Torino, from where we would be taking our night train to Paris. Rene is about 300 Km. from Paris in the North-West corner of France. There we would be visiting a colleague of mine, who was working on lien for a year. We were going to his place to visit Mont Saint-Michel, an eighth century monastery, and then would come back together to Paris for a series of sight seeing. Our touring cycle would be completed when we would return to Munich after visiting Interlaken and Jungfraujoch, and then hopping through railway stations of Bern and Zurich. I was staying with my family at Munich then. Our story of merry-go-round will remain incomplete unless I mention that we started two days before from Munich, spent a night at Florence and had a real feast of great paintings, sculptures and architectures of European renaissance.
I should take a break here without elaborating further our routes and halts of journey and apologize to my readers, if it has created a maze of confusion among these classic tourist hotspots. You may have rightly guessed that we belonged to that class of middle-class thrifty travelers, who wanted to squeeze every bit of their time, energy and resources in satisfying their hungry eyes. So when we boarded the train, we were exhausted after our day long travel. Still we were enjoying the lovely view of scenic Riviera, as the train was following the same route to Monti Rosso on its way to Torino. Outside the window the sea went on sending us invitation in the twilight zone with its series of small tides breaking on rocky shores. This continued till Genoa, about half an hour or so, and then the sea disappeared as well as the darkness dropped a curtain on every animate and inanimate objects outside, and brought us back to its own world of inertial frame.
This was also our inaugural journey with European Rail Passes, which we bought from Munich and gave us the entitlement of six days’ rail journey in any class. Additional incentive of having this rail pass was that we could start our journey with it from 7 PM the day before, which made it effectively valid for 29 long hours. In reality we found that our European ticket checkers were gracious enough to extend the period further with a broad smile. Even the booking clerks won’t advise you to get a ticket if you needed to exceed that duration for a few more hours. That exactly happened in the very first day of its use. We were little early from our 7 PM official onset and a bit nervous while boarding the train, to know the reaction of our traveling ticket examiner. Though the booking clerk in La Spazia assured us and did not bother to issue any ticket for our additional hours of journey, our mind was restless on unforeseen outcome of this unwritten code of conduct against the violation of written one. So when we got into the train, instead of taking a first-class coach, we chose a second class compartment to minimize our risk of violation. But to our great relief the European hospitality prevailed and we were settled to the comfort and quietness of the rest of our rail journey.
At the other end of our row, a gentleman was watching us. He appeared to be of Indian origin. He addressed us in Italian and then in broken English he asked, “Are you Indian?”.
We confirmed our nationality. His eyes brightened up. He spoke in Hindi, “From where?”
My Hindi is almost unspeakable. Jhuma continued most of the conversation. She told, “From West Bengal.”
“I am from Punjab. Today I went to Florence for papers. By God’s grace I got it,” he declared happily.
“What paper?” she asked.
“The residence permit. From today I am a legal person. Now I can bring my wife and son to this country. How old is your son?” he asked her.
“He is just six.”
“My son is in the seventh grade. He reads in an English medium school. He asks everyday to his mother, when he could come here? He would be so happy!” our narrator could not suppress his joy of excitement.
I tried with my limited Hindi, “What do you do here?”
“I work in a Dairy firm. My employers are very nice people. Husband and wife, together they run the firm. I am the only employee there. They depend on me so much!” he continued, “It’s a lot of work. I single handedly manage over 200 cows. Of course, hardly you do anything without a machine. Everything is automated. Even for drawing milk from cows. Then you need to feed them, clean them. I work day and night and that is why my employers are so happy with me,” he said cheerfully.
“How much do you get?” Jhuma asked.
“1500 a month. Food and accommodation free! A lot today! You know we have Euro’s now. Earlier we used to get in Liras. But now with the introduction of Euro Italian currency has become very strong. With that money I bought land in my village and bear the expenditure of my kid’s education.”
His name was Bhajan Singh. He came to Italy about seven years ago. I asked him, “How did you come here?”
“By a ship.” Then he explained. “First I came to Tunisia by air. You do not require a visa for that country. Only the passport is enough. Then I boarded a ship to Italy. The moment I arrived here I threw my passport to sea. So when Italian policemen caught me, I did not utter a single word. Even not in Hindi. They could not make out my nationality. So what they would do? I was a botheration for them. They gave me a ten Lira note and asked me to go to Rome. But I had my contacts in Paris. There I planned for working in restaurants. I went there and started working in restaurants. It was a hard life. You are always at the mercy of others and have no identity, no legal status. I was driven out from one place to the other. Finally I came to this part and got my work in a dairy firm. The place where I live now, is about 50 Km from Torino. Here people are nice. They treat you well. My employer gave me shelter and helped me in getting my papers. They were asking me for bringing more people like me. Italian youths do not work. They do not want to do such a hard labor. That’s why there is a huge demand of people like me.” He paused for a moment and added, “Bengalis too do not want to do such work.”
“Are there many Bengalis?”
“Oh yes! A lot. They come from Bangladesh. You will find them in Rome, in tourist places, sea beaches. They sell toys, bangles. They work also in restaurants. They do not earn much from that kind of work. But if you ask them to work in farms, they would run away.”
“Don’t you go to your village in India?” Jhuma asked.
“I could manage once. That too four years ago! I thought of not coming back here. But what I could do there? If I stayed I would have been involved in village disputes, could have been murdered too! My village was no more a safe place for me.” He sighed, “So I came back again. That was the last time I met my kid and my wife. Of course I get letters from my son regularly. I do not know how to write or read. But my employers read them for me. They even write in lieu of me.”
“Don’t you have holidays?”
“Oh yes. But they pay me twice the amount on holidays.”
“What do they do when you are not there? How are they managing now in your absence?”
“They work by themselves. Today they will come to the station and pick me up.”
During our conversation Bhajan also got a call from his employers and he updated them about the present location of the train. The train was running a bit late. He could speak well in Italian. He also informed us that he was capable of conversing in French. On learning that we would be visiting Paris, he gave us a few tips. “Take care of your belongings and purse in Paris. More so, if you are traveling by metro numbers 1, 4 and 7. Do not board crowded trains.” We enquired about Indian restaurant in Paris. He told, “Ask for the lane Satte Rui. It is near the Gardi’list (Garre De La East) station and there are a number of Indian restaurants.”
Finally when his destination was approaching, he got up from his seat and came near to us. He said, “Sir! This is the happiest moment of my life. I got my papers. I do not have to worry about my stay in this country. Now I can go back, bring my family here. My son is impatiently waiting for me. He has asked whether he would be able to study in English here. My employers assured me. He would be able to manage here. Your son reminds mine.”
He caressed Bittu’s forehead and put a ten Euro note in the pocket of his shirt. Jhuma and I, both of us, were taken by a surprise and almost simultaneously reacted, “Please, do not!”
He did not pay any heed to our request. He said, “My happiest moment sir! Let me share with this kid! Buy something for him!”
He got down on the platform and quickly proceeded toward its exit waving his hands to acknowledge his presence from the crowd.
07/10/2011
