The train

Sitting in the Trans Scenic train from Greymouth to Christchurch, I am once again amazed by the pace with which times change. Here I am, sitting in the train traversing the route dubbed as one of the most scenic train routes in the world. The train travels through mountains, rivers, valleys, lakes and passes and tunnels. Beautiful river bed, snow, big lakes and forest really is a feast for the eyes. I had paid a fare which would be more than all the money I had paid for all my train trips in India. I suddenly become nostalgic about my train journeys.

Travelling in a train was one of my childhood dreams. I grew up in Udumalpet, a small town near Coimbatore. A very beautiful (which I realized after visiting many other “beautiful” cities) town adjoining the western ghat mountain ranges. Train transport was not needed for my the activites of my childhood – be it weekend holidays at my farm house to which we used to go in the bullock cart ( a “savari” cart meaning the one meant only for travel), be it the nearby temples or our relatives’ houses for which we took the local buses. Nobody in our whole family lived at a distance to be travelled by train.

We rarely travelled unless for religious reasons and most of the temples were nearby. I was about 14 when my dream of travelling by train came true. We had to go to Rameswaram for performing certain puja for my sister. The puja was prescribed by an astrologer who also accompanied us to the trip. He had the acquaintance of a certain priest in Rameswaram who would do the puja. My family which was not financially sound to spend for a holiday got ready to perform the expensive puja since it was recommended by the astrologer. That’s how I first got to go in train. We took the train from Udumalpet railway station close to midnight. I had never been awake past 8 30 pm during my younger days. In fact no one in my house used to be awake after 9 pm. But that night I didn’t sleep. I was thoroughly excited by the feeling of travelling by train.

The train arrived at about midnight. We had not reserved our tickets because the train had no reservation at all. It was a passenger train. Thankfully, it was not crowded. We managed to get seats and the astrologer slept in the “upper berth” – the luggage rack. I couldn’t see anything outside in the dark but still the sound of the rattling train wheels, the occasional smell of diesel smoke mixed with the cool wind from the window was giving me a high. In the morning, the train travelled through the Pamban bridge across the sea and after long haults here and there, took us to Rameswaram.

My train sojourns became frequent – in fact irritatingly frequent after I joined medical school in Chennai. Of course, visiting Chennai was another childhood dream which was fulfilled well past my teenage. Trains did not run direct to Udumalpet from Chennai so I had to take train up to Coimbatore or Tiruppur and then take bus to my town. Now, the cheapest train and the fastest to take us from Chennai to our place was the Intercity. It was a day train which was overbooked always. We as students, never had the time to book tickets especially in that stone age (about 8-9 yearsr ago) when online reservation was not known. We used to travel in the train sitting in the footstep, sometimes a newspaper to sit on and sometimes without it. Whenever a station comes, you have to get up, hop out to make way for people to get in. Sometimes during festival seasons, footsteps would also be full. I would not dare to sit and travel on a footstep now, for the shear fear of it. But we used to do it as if it was absolutely normal.

I have worse journeys in my memory. My worst would be the one I did between Kottayam and Chennai to attend the councelling for post graduate seats. I did not book a ticket since I had not decided about attending the councelling. Finally when I made the decision, it was too late. The train was stuffed with human beings and their belongings beyond an extent imaginable. I could hardly get into the unreserved compartment. After great difficulty and distress, I managed to get a seat on the luggage rack with four other people there. I sat at the edge of the rack with my legs hanging and could hardly change my position for the next 14 hours of my trip. Leave alone the heat inside the compartment. Nothing came out of the councelling except bad memories of a bad train trip.

Now here I am sitting in a cosy chair with a table infront of me, sipping Sauvignon Blanc looking at rivers and forests through the large glass window and writing this. Times have changed. I may not take an unreserved train trip again in india. Who knows I may. But these are things which we grew up with which make us fit to survive any bloody condition in any corner of the world. The very Indian quality of survivorship. I am proud to be part of a culture where nothing comes without struggle for it. Struggle is the one thing which can give you happiness when you succeed and the satisfaction of a honest try when you fail. Survival is a struggle and every aspect of survival is a struggle sometimes, back home. But I feel that kind of hardship is necessary in shaping you properly. Bye for now. My station has arrived.