The sunlight streamed through the half drawn curtains had me awake. The train was slowing down as a station approached. I craned my neck to see but could hardly make out which station it was. A hawker selling tea entered the compartment to the utter joy of all the passengers who quickly swarmed around him.We Indians love our tea, and there is something heavenly about that tiny cup of hot tea served when you are half snuggled inside that blanket on the train berth. Train journeys were always an integral part of my holidays. I used to eagerly wait for the summer vacations where we would take the train to my grandmom's town to spend holidays with my cousins. Tickets those days were booked way in advance , tiny rectangular cardboard cutouts. I especially loved overnight journeys - the joy of climbing up to an upper berth and falling asleep to the rhythmic jostling of the train. I love train journeys to this day. But the general paucity when it comes to time and distances traveled have us giving in to flights most of the time.Holidays are also about meeting cousins,aunts,uncles - the whole retinue of an extended Bong family. Invitations for lunch, dinner , breakfast are not to be ignored. And never underestimate the emotional cost of each tiny bit of morsel put on your plate.The whole hierarchy of the family tree can be threatened by your mere refusal to devour the last piece of fish preserved just for you. Unfortunately for me, a Bong who has also chosen the sadistic world of running , the conflict is eternal. From dragging the father along for a 90 minute early ( I mean really early) morning walk at the nearest lake while I run to the amused look on the face of the man selling coconut water on realizing that a Bong woman chose to spend her early morning hours running , the struggle between a Bong coming back home to Kolkata and a runner just trying to keep up her routine is real. Kolkata and running are not really friends - as a fellow runner and friend puts it:). But like a lot of conflicting identities which sink into our personalities ( tell me if you have been able to balance out yours because I never have) , this too will find it's own little space. Till then , I will enjoy slurping the last bit of the soft, mushy rosogolla (we also have the GI now, woot woot!) and the very confused look of the onlooker as I whizz past in my running shoes.