Every time we say goodbye ...

Many decades ago, when I was in middle school, I guess, I read a short story in the Tamil weekly, Ananda Vikatan.

It was about a father visiting with his son in the city and then the son accompanying the father to the railway station.  The father boards the train that will take him back to his village and sits by the window while the son stands on the platform by that same window.  During the conversation, which itself was not a freely-flowing one and rather awkward, the son places his arm on the window and it accidentally grazes the father's hand. The son feels goosebumps all over and he realizes that it has been years since his childhood days when he even touched his father.

A simple story that said a lot about the culture in which I grew.  A culture in which there were no handshakes or hugs, particularly across the genders.  I often joked that it was because we lived in hot and humid conditions and that the last thing we wanted was the other person's sweat!  

Of course, life in the US has changed my own practices, perhaps slowly, with respect to men and women alike.  Hugs, too, have found a way into my relationship vocabulary--awkwardly, at first, and a lot more comfortably as years have progressed.

A couple of weeks ago, my brother (who lives in Australia with his family) and I were on the train to visit with my aunts, who lived in the south of India.  It was three-tier coach. At the single-seats facing each other were a woman and a man--they seemed like husband and wife--and a young girl perhaps about five years old.  The adults looked like they were in their late twenties or early thirties.

Two other males, about the couple's age, stood in the aisle and kept talking with them.  As it got closer to the departure time, these two males got off the train after saying bye.  They re-appeared on the platform outside the window.

The couple barely spoke to each other.  In fact, at one point, the husband even took out his Blackberry and texted, and the wife engaged the kid with some small talk.

The train gently shook, indicating that we were all set to start moving.

The husband jumped from his seat and exited the train.

That was it.  No saying bye.  No hugging the wife or the kid.  No peck on the cheek or lips.

He, too, re-appeared on the station platform and waved goodbye as the train pulled out of the station.

This scene was quite a contrast to the typical American goodbyes!  Different cultures and different practices. It is a wonderful world, indeed!