It was 60 years ago and I was hardly six years old. Our joint family of nearly 20 people was travelling from Coimbatore to Tirupathi. My maternal uncle was leading the group of senior citizens, women and children aged below 12. It was fun and frolic all the way, with some yummy food loaded by my grandmother for the two-day journey.
We were nearing Tirupathi, in high spirits though a little tired after more than a day’s journey when the ticket examiner with an intimidating moustache entered our compartment. I got frightened with the frequent mention of my name Kannan in the heated exchange of arguments that ensued between my uncle and the ticket examiner. Soon, we realised that it was Periya Kannan, my cousin, who was in the eye of the storm. He was elder than me and tall for his age.
The ticket examiner looked rather menacingly at the overgrown Periya Kannan and insisted on a full ticket for him, accusing my uncle of falsifying his age to get concessional fare. My uncle could not produce any evidence for proof of his age as in those days there were no Aadhaar or PAN card which could be given as proof that the boy was only 11 years old. My grandmother panicked and pleaded with my uncle asking him to pay for the full ticket with a penalty.
The ticket examiner threatened that he would get my cousin out of the train at the next halt. My uncle, a stickler for rules and upright person, would not budge. We were very close to the next station when the train, fortunately, came to a halt in the outer to get the signal clearance. The entire compartment was now charged with tension with all the co-passengers pitying my uncle but remaining helpless, unable to break this impasse. My grandmother started making fervent prayers to Lord Venkatachalapathi.
I posed a very innocuous question to my uncle, pointing at the person sitting at the other end of the compartment and asking if he would have a half ticket as he was not tall. I came under fire from all my relatives for not realising the gravity of the situation, while my uncle suddenly rushed towards the ticket examiner and whispered something in his ears. To our surprise, the ticket examiner and all the passengers burst into laughter. My uncle had asked the question if the Railways would refund the excess fare charged from that person.
The train now started picking up speed after the signal clearance. There was a relief in our camp after the new-found bonhomie with the ticket examiner and a sudden transformation in him. My grandmother offered the gentleman who was till now a hard nut to crack with a good serving of Puliodharai that was liberally sprinkled with full-sized cashew nuts. He was immensely pleased with the wonderful delicacy of my grandmother. He asked Periya Kannan his date of birth. My grandmother supplemented his reply by stating that he was born on a New Moon day in a particular month of the Tamil calendar. She looked at my uncle and asked him to map it to the corresponding date in the English calendar. Those were not days of smartphones; nor was Google there to verify this at the press of a button.
Stunned by this argument of my grandmother, the ticket examiner could easily relate this date to the Tamil month and the New Moon day because he had lost his father the same day. He accepted this proof of date of birth as good enough!
We had a nice darshan of Lord Venkateswara, profusely thanking the lord for getting us out of an awkward situation.
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