A Tambaram to Chennai train singing group changes ‘tracks’ but stays well on course

Suburban train singing groups rarely change tracks. Almost everything, from the timings and compartment to the route and genre, is “notated” with indelible ink. And the settings and processes continue without a semitone of variation. The singing group on the Tambaram to Chennai Beach suburban line strayed off this predictable course.

First up, the route. Around 30 years ago, the group whirred into soundscape on the Pallavaram Return, a service originating at Pallavaram station at 9.30 a.m. and screeching to a halt at Chennai Beach. Om Balachandran, employed as public relations inspector at the Anna Salai post office, is by his own admission, a member of this group not by the strength of his vocal cords, but his cochlea. He can sound Descartian if he chose to: “I listen, therefore I am (a member of this group).” And this is what Balachandran “the listener” has to say: the route changed around the pandemic when “Pallavaram Return” service was waved into retirement. Since then the group is associated with the 8.50 a.m. Tambaram local. The “mobile concert hall” is the third compartment from the guard van.

“Still, a majority of the members are from Pallavaram and Chromepet,” Balachandran emphasises. The group has had another notable shift: from hymns to hits. In its early days, devotional songs were its staple. And then filmy earworms (Tamil and occasional Hindi songs) wriggled into the centre stage. Now, there is a mix with film songs in a predominant position. However, every singing session is ushered in with a devotional song.

S. Harishankar, whose daily commute transports him to the Secretariat where he is in a team that takes care of all matters pertaining to the Tamil Nadu Legislative Assembly, the premises and the processes, has been a long-time member. He has reasons to view this compartment as a relief, even an escape from the mundane and persistent burdens of life. And also as a space for companionship.

When it burst on the scene, the group was composed of friends, ten of them. And the number stands at around 30, a clutch of them (three to four) trained for professional stage singing. The thirty does not account for the silent participants, seemingly distant but engrossed in the proceedings.

In fact, the fandom of this group, nicknamed

“The Train Friends”, stretches across tracks. I. Jayaseelan, an advocate with the Madras High Court who is part of the singing group on the Chennai Central to Tiruvallur suburban line, detrains from his regular commute to board this train just for the singing.

Besides the camaraderie among members, which is extended to counterparts from singing groups on other suburban locals such as Jayaseelan, there is respect for fellow passengers, even those frowning at the “concert”. Balachandran explains: “Occasionally, when the singing group receives a negative response, even if one passenger objects to the singing, saying it prevents them from having a quiet journey, we immediately stop singing.” It takes courage to pursue one’s passion, and social consciousness to keep it tempered. This group has evidently got this two-sided equation uncannily right.