I walk a few metres down the carriage only to find a drifter in the wind hanging his feet off the side of the train. I tap him on the shoulder and signal if I am able to sit down next to him.He nods and I carefully place myself down with my feet hanging over the edge next to him. I embrace the magnificent, warm, colourful Indian countryside and allow the new change of situation to settle. This man smells pretty bad, his clothes are tattered and the wrinkles on his face told a thousand stories.
I try to have a basic conversation with this man but my Hindi is far from good enough. Instead we speak in gesture, exchanging smiles and other positive actions. He mimes to ask for a light of his authentic hand rolled cigarettes. Everything he does is so delicate and fragile. Then before I know it a man selling chai comes past. CHAI CHAI CHAI!!! I think he wanted to be a singer but had to settle for selling chai. The drifter then pulls out a dirty old couple of rupees and without a flicker of doubt in his mind buys me a cup of chai. This kind and loving gesture catches me completely off guard coming from someone who I was unable to even really talk to. He hands me the chai, I humbly accept and we share a blissful moment sipping hot chai as the wind rushes past our faces, no talking, just enjoying.