I Arrive...

* This was written on a round trip from Delhi to Gwalior last year.
** The guy in the photo is not me.

Train journeys are all about possibilities.

I take one, towards the end of December last year from Delhi to Gwalior. My train, Bhopal Shatabdi, is scheduled to leave at 7.10 on a wintry morning and I leave from home at 6.30, running late as usual. During the ride from home to station on an auto-rickshaw, I realize it’s been quite a while since I took a train journey, and that my mother was right about wearing that extra sweater as icy winds slapped me in the face for my folly.

At 7’o clock, I was running through the quieter-than-usual New Delhi Railway Station, cursing Bhopal Shatabdi for leaving from the farthest possible platform. Anyways, I board the train in the nick of time, catch my breath and take my seat next to the window. I look out at a platform bathed with white light. The scene comprises of dozens of families stretched out on the floor in various stages of rest and slumber. The train starts with a jerk, and a group of middle-aged ladies sitting nearby start muttering silent prayers. A big yellow board at the edge of the platform proclaims in bold black letters ‘NEW DELHI. Height above mean sea level: 216m’

Train journeys are all about possibilities. I think of it as a change in state. When you arrive, you are no longer the same person who departed. You can make new friends en route, or find old enemies; you may get diarrhoea from eating stale cutlets or jaundice from drinking contaminated water. And, dare I say it, you might even discover love. Sitting there in seat no. 17 of coach C4, I discover my love for Chai-Parle-G Biscuits.

I reflect on the year that has gone past. I graduated and entered the real world, a world that is as enticing as unforgiving. I fell in and out of love thrice, a record low. I had a taste of a life totally foreign to me, and got hooked to it. I finally learnt to cook, including world-class pasta in Arabiatta sauce. And I was rounding off the year with something very close to my heart.

I have always loved train journeys. As a kid, every time my family took a train journey, I was allowed to buy a comic or two for the journey. Though I have strolled past the days of lapping up Nagraj and Super Commando Dhruv, I still feel there is something romantic about train journeys. While flights seem more business-like, trains are kind of rustic and charming. In the movies, you see the hero and the heroine singing songs, dancing on the roof of the train, while other passengers, who would have probably haggled over reservations a little while earlier, leaving their berths and dancing to their cue. You never see that sort of a thing on an airplane, do you? And when in air, you remain immersed in your iPods, laptops and seat-belts, impervious of your surroundings, apart from occasionally glimpsing outside to see that serene carpet of clouds. In a train, however, you can see everything - the lush green fields, barren lands, sparkling streams, sleepy towns… You move your feet to the sound made by the train when it crosses a bridge. You recount that Sonia-Vajpayee-Lalu Prasad Yadav joke when the train goes through a tunnel. You quibble with vendors over moofali and ward off flirtatious eunuchs.

My train of thought is broken by a sheepish voice making an announcement, as the train slows down. A yellow board announcing ‘GWALIOR. Height above mean sea level: 212 m’ passes by. The train passes through a slum colony lining the edges of the railway tracks. I see half-naked children with distended bellies running along the train, waving. I smile and wave back. After racing for almost a minute, their legs betray them and they are left behind as the train slowly marches on. They stop in their tracks, and emit a shrill cry of thrill, jumping and clapping their hands in elation. Seeing their spirit and joy, I am filled with a vague feeling of bliss. And a vague sense of purpose. And in that moment I realized why after all train journeys meant so much to me.

After days of brooding over my return, seeing India and its lush green fields, barren lands, sparkling streams and sleepy towns weave past my window, I finally feel that connection again.