The clock reads 3.45 am. Train 43402 chugs out of Arakkonam station. Onboard are farmers
with sacks of fresh produce — bartering their vegetables and discussing the economics of agriculture. Joyel K Pious gives us a first-hand report of this market on rails
CHENNAI:Of the more than 37 suburban trains that run between Arakkonam and Chennai Central every week day, there’s something unique about train number 43402. It is the day’s first EMU (Electric Multiple Unit) or ‘local’ between the western-most town of Chennai Metropolitan Region and the Central, the nerve centre of the city. Located 69 km from Central, Arakkonam Junction is an ideal place to begin the journey to witness how villages gradually give way for suburbs.
It is 3.40 am. Train number 43402 is ready to depart in five minutes. Arakkonam station and its surroundings, bathed in white fluorescent lights, look sleepy and silent but for the sound of long-distance trains and occasional announcements of the impending departure of the first local. The compartments are mostly empty. Among the few people in the compartment, many started their journey hours earlier to catch this train. They are farmers from interior villages who travel to Chennai to sell their produce.
“We started at 1 am from the village,” says Gopi looking at the big digital clock on the platform, which showed two minutes to the scheduled departure. Gopi is among the hundreds of farmers who board the first local with loads of freshly harvested vegetables.Unlike the other trains, where luggage berths are usually stacked with bags and briefcases, the first EMU has bundles of finely cut spinach and other leafy vegetables on its wooden luggage berths.
Red turns green
A long whistle blows exactly at 3.45 am. The red signal, which stopped the train from chugging turned green a few seconds back. The train slowly crawled eastwards, gradually picking speed and piercing into the thick of darkness. Passengers, both men and women, heave a sigh of relief and hold their vegetable sacks close.“Find a place for yourself. The train is going to be crowded,” Seenu tells me, after seeing me walking freely around the compartment. “The train is going to be full when we reach Mosur,” he says adding that maximum number of farmers get into the train at Mosur.
Exactly five kilometres into the journey, the EMU rolls into the tiny, humble Mosur station. There is a large crowd on the platform, carrying heavy sacks of vegetables. They have less than a minute to board
the train. Pandemonium, chaos, rush, hustle. The otherwise calm Mosur station is now clamorous. Amid the bustle, elbows and hands are beind nudged and pushed to squeeze into the train. The compartments are now filled with farmers each one struggling to find some space to sit and keep their stock.
A market on the rails
Once settled, the farmers begin their daily barter. Sack loads of spinach is being exchanged for bags of okra or brinjal. Some exchange fresh green chillies for bittergourd or radish spinach. There’s not much money involved in the exchange. “We need not pay now even if we are buying from others. We all know each other and have an idea of how much we owe,” says Latchmi from a village near Puliyamangalam station. This is a system which the farmers have fine-tuned between each other through years of commute. Many of these farmers or their wives assume the role of vegetable vendors when they reach the city. The exchange of vegetables onboard the train helps them keep a variety in their basket when they meet prospective customers.
A woman sitting besides this reporter buys a bag of okra for D25. The exchange is not based on weight, instead, depends on a mental calculation about the size of each bag. Now, she carefully divides the content into four small bags. “I sell each bag for D10,” she says.No business is run without a bargain. The onboard barter system also includes a lot of bargaining, but it usually involves smaller amounts ranging from D5 to D20.
Entering the city
As the train slowly enters Tiruvallur, about 27 km from its origin, the darkness that shrouded the train gives way to the orange-red hue of street lights. No more farmers to get inside the train. The commuters now are mostly urban working class. The whistles and country songs that filled the air till now slowly fall silent. A small section of farmers get down at Tiruvallur with their head carrying the burden of baskets. From here onwards, the first occupants of the train disembark at each station and start their next role as vendors. The train stops for only a few seconds at each station, and they have to rush to alight with their produce.
When the train passes Avadi, another set of passengers replaces the first one. The commuters who get in now are busy with their smartphones, while the farmers ready themselves to get down at the next station. “Villivakkam and Perambur are the major stations where almost all the remaining vegetables are brought down,” says farmer Murali from Mosur while pushing his gunny bags towards the entrance as the train crosses Ambattur.
The destination
The first ray of daylight is yet to fall on the train as it crosses Basin Bridge Junction around 5.20 am and slowly approaches its scheduled destination. The announcement system in the train comes back to life: “Destination Chennai Central. Next station Chennai Central”. If one looks around, there won’t be any hint of the earlier ‘vegetable market’ that existed in these compartments. A couple of farmers are still in the train hoping to get a good deal for their produce in the centre of the city. The train inches towards Chennai Central suburban station platform number 14 and a small crowd gets up from their seats. At 5.45 am the train comes to a grinding halt. A woman clad in an orange-coloured sari walks towards the exit gate with a headload of spinach and okra. She is among a handful of people who boarded the train at Arakkonam.