The train, a beautiful childhood, four friends, unforgettable memories- You cant miss!!!

What happened after 10 months at the boarding school...A train journey that can well be the next biggest Indian Book



Childhood memories haunt me

My best childhood memories come from the blend of cylindrical-rectangular coaches laden with passengers supported on wheels and propelled by an engine- sometimes a coal one and sometimes an electric one. I liked each one of those serpentine trains that carried people from one part of the country to the other, on vocation or on holidays. Personally, my date with the train happened twice a year. Staying at a boarding school, near Bangalore, in the best years of my childhood life, March 31st is the day none would have the heart to forget. It was the H-day. As the clock struck 6, you could sense a holiday spirit around, a unique hustle-bustle, non-sleepy eyes, moments of joy, optimism, frolicking tiny tots, tattered charts, irregular benches, empty shelves, busy rag pickers, joyous breakfasts, packed school dresses, unending smiles, bouncing tennis balls, pencil-box cricket, flooded gates, lavish coconut water, set-free spirits, happy hols chants, sorry’s, good byes, thank you’s, gratitude’s, greeting cards, expectant parents and anticipating children; something like a busy station, some byes, some laughter, fun expectations, trolleying suitcases, sad departures, tight hugs, tear trickling eyes and parting tracks.

The parting tracks

After signing out from the boarding school, my next stop would be a restaurant or an internet café, a shopping mall and lastly a room where I could drop my bags and pick them up boarding my train. It was as if I was left alone, all to myself, free to do what I wanted. But again there were friends with me and I bet each one definitely felt this at some point when they shifted sides from the school gates. Together we friends would then freak out as if set-free, as never before and begin exploring the world around us. We would never miss out any opportunity to drop someone on the railway station or help someone till his bus bid us good bye. The atmosphere was fun and frolic, something that we had not witnessed for the last 10 months. These feelings were synonymous with elation, bliss, emancipation, release and break free.

To the railway station

At 8 P.M., keeping the breathe-free feeling alive, we used to move on to the railway station, in an Auto rickshaw or a bus few minutes prior to the train’s arrival. In the nick of time, we somehow managed to make it to the railway station on time-just enough to take a quick around and see who was headed to what destination, from the boys side and the girls’ side. The scene at the railway station was always buzzing with activity, be it the vendors, the trains, the TT, the superintendent, the passengers, strangers, schoolmates and cross-campus girls; it was as if we were back into the world, where we could set our souls free and let it attract what it liked. The feeling was magical. Besides, the dark ends and terrifying trees of the Prashanti Nilayam station could scare you to the ass, if you were to board the midnight train. It was fear and excitement all the way. It was ghastly yet fanciful.

The Train arrives

And then the train would come as always, with a bang, at sharp 9 P.M., The Karnataka Express, with a newly obtained electric engine, a diverse crowd in it and a mighty horn- enough to reach the ear of my teacher back in school. Due to the 5 minutes stoppage, we used to immediately board the train with our suitcases and look for our seats, ah, just the ones that Vishnu, the ticket booking clerk, our close friend, had booked for us, the best ones. We were four friends, who were headed for Delhi, from Bangalore. A side lower, a side upper and two upper births on the other side were our cup of tea, where we would disturb nobody and nobody would disturb us. And then, we would settle down on our seats, get into our slippers, adjust our bags, sit down and take a look out of the window with a twinkle in our eyes, an amicable smile on our faces and a happy bosom beneath our specially-for-train T-shirts. Then, we would straight away look at the seats where girls between 15-20 age groups were supposed to have booked their tickets. How did we know? The credit goes to our research skills and Vishnu’s positioning. However, for the other coaches, we left the exploration for the next day. The night would be the shortest night ever as we would enjoy those moments of joy, fun, light heartedness, laughter, memories, teasing, munching and then exhausting our eyes to tears. With our Tees and jeans, we would all doze to a cozy sleep, as if we were back from a war.

An Enid Blyton Morning

Mornings in our train were highly promising. We would always wake up after Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka fade out. A northward journey was the catch. No more of ‘Guntakals and Dharmavarams.’ A bit of Maharashtra seemed encouraging. With a host of things to do, we never understood why people talked about boring train journeys. Since, we had holidays for just two months in a year; we always celebrated our holidays grandly and optimally. From Dosa Vada we shifted to Alu poori, from Ram Ramji to Hi and Hello and so on. After our ablutions in the morning, our seats would have a bit of everything like newspapers, fashion and news magazines, eatables, chocolates, fast food, chilled mineral water and cool drinks. We lived to our extremes. Passengers often believed us when we said we were college students- our English accent, our lavish ways, magnanimous gestures and just everything of ours was strange for them. But, isn’t that the typical North Indian home attitude? We never felt anything about the crowd around then.

Expedition mania

And thereafter, we set out on our expedition in the train, meeting classmates, seniors, juniors, parents, new people, Pantry Walas and TT’s. It all seemed so much fun. Senior girls would pull our cheeks and tease us. We had some light moments with them, something that distinguished us from the South Indian classmates…something because of which we felt superior then….pampering from girls and information about them (Since we were in a non co-ed school, guys used to fall flat for the information we had about girls across the wall). We sped across the other coaches taking a glimpse into the eyes of those whom we were hunting for. Wherever we could, we would let our luck work. Elsewhere, we dint really mind not making it. You know I am talking about good girls whom teenagers go after. But then we restricted it to looking at girls as we never knew how to interact with the alien sex, of the same age.

The train…..ah I was there, and then came stations…Daund, Ahmednagar, etc where we got down and lifted out right arms and stretched ourselves lazily. We filled water bottles, bought ice creams, chocolates and took a feel of the air there. We often felt mature when we were on the platform after the horn. It felt adrenaline-rushing; catching the train after it had began pulling out of the station. These were our tiny moments of gratification, happiness, mirth and ecstasy. Our luncheon was again grand and the pre-twilight time was when we opened it. At twilight, the number of stations began decreasing; sumptuous lunches left us on our seats either with magazines or with an opportunity to catch a quick nap. And then Manmad, Kopargaon, Jalgaon and Bhusawal would pass….Manmad would usually be our break point for water and stretching. This is the culmination point of the two Karnataka Express trains moving in opposite directions.

For the soul

Around sunset, the door of the train was the best part of the journey. I loved sitting or standing at the door and looking out into the world. If not the door, I would make it at my seat window. I looked at the vast blue sky, the sinking sun, the lovely moors and grasslands, the tillers, the sowing season, lush green farms, traditional farmers, tractors, barren lands, changing tracks below me, kites, scare crows, cow breeds, rural households and vast spaces around. Things passed by, time moved on. This was my moment of introspection, where I thought about the year that had passed by, new resolutions for holidays, how many movies I should see, things I should do, whom all I need to meet, where all I need to travel Shimla…Patiala…Chandigarh…Delhi…etc. This silent time took me back in time to the year that has gone, the happy and sad moments, the teachers, classmates, stakeholders and so on. It reconnected me with my goals, my targets, my desires, wishes, worries and just everything.

Making alive the dying party

And suddenly, the farms would seem to disappear and all that would be visible is small lights, lamps and bulbs glowing from farm houses, railway crossings, factories, etc. What do I hear? Chaiwalas, Fruit Sellers, Bondas, VadaPao, Ice Cream and the yummy “Thanda Dood.” At once, we would rush down and buy packets of Lassi and Thanda Dood from Khandwa. “Hey last time it was 5 bucks, this time it costs 7 Rs….Inflation man…” “Mild inflation is good for the economy buddy” back would be the answer from Rohit. We laughed it off and loaded ourselves with some sweetened milk. All were fresh again, juniors and seniors would come at our place and we would chat, exchange magazines, swap cassettes, endorse school gossip, dig into our slam books, have some light hearted jokes, interact…this is the same time when passengers around would be playing Tash and Antakshari.

Then would come the passing trains… the momentary full stops to our conversation, loud horn noises, jhiga jhig jigha jhig jigha jhig, shhhhh, a passing tunnel, an over bridge and the first appearances of Veg Biryani. Some would sign out of the chatroom as their parents would have kept dinner ready for them. Slowly all the Antaksharis' and tash groups would disappear into their blankets and our light would go out. However, we never put it off so early. Our station was Itarsi, where a fruit stall, a Poorie Dhaba, a magazine shelf, a phonebooth, a clock and a stair case reside by each other. 11 ‘o’ clock a hungry friend would scream. There would be Poorie, Sabzi, Puff, Cakes, Drinks, Badam Milk and lot more on our menu. We would treat each other and celebrate…a genuine celebration that happens in reel life. The train would pull out and our food would begin. Yummy, it was! Before getting into our blankets, we would have the last laugh saying, “tomorrow we will be home.”

The D-Day

The next morning would be a busy one, recovering from sleep, grooming ourselves, doing our rounds, watching Agra pass by and wait in expectation. By now, our conversations were always exhausted; CD’s returned to the rightful owners, bottle discarded, magazines donated and bags packed up. With each passing flyover and bridge the approaching destination would become more visible. We would have exchanged numbers of the three-day friends with promises like, “I’ll email you,” “I’ll call you,” “We’ll keep in touch, etc. Delhi would come and we would divert into 4 directions and look back at the train, the platform, the atmosphere, each other and part…We never imagined, on the third day, We would each be a part of the crowd. What was magical, utopian and heavenly would end in melancholy. We would reach our homes with a new zeal, as if returning from the Olympics after having made it a success. Those were the days I miss. Those were the days that were fun. Sometimes, I remember them and smile…Sometimes, I compare them with now. Sometimes, I pray that God give those days again...Sometimes I feel those moments must go to the poor and suffering at times…But now I feel, I should make those moments come alive in college, the same smiles, the same laughter, same fun and everything be the same, but then I know the difference, the friends will change in this new script…All of us have to move on…If only we could freeze time…But, I think I am asking for the sky…That my dear reader is life! Make the most of it.