As was my wont whenever I am at a railway station, I began scouring for comic books in the magazine stand. From the limited few they had there, I picked up a couple of ‘Chacha Chaudhary’ and ‘Billoo’ digests(yes, I am a sucker for nostalgia), along with a newspaper. Pleased with myself, I sauntered back to my bogie while the cool October breeze ruffled my hair. Before I could enter, I noticed a group of men clad in green uniforms actively cleaning every part of the bogie I was in. I realized then that similar groups were simultaneously at work at every single bogie of the train; all very hurriedly but very effectively. Suffice to say, I was quite impressed.
 |
| At the now pretty looking Pendra Road station |
Back to my seat, I began leafing through my comics while the train jerked and began moving.
The Kolkata
Shalimar - Udaipur City Weekly Express was right on time as it hurtled towards
its next destination, while I and my father awaited its final one patiently. We
had started last night and were to reach Udaipur – my naani ghar – the next morning at 9. Udaipur…The city of my soul.
The city where some of the finest memories of my childhood remain rooted. Visiting
Udaipur has always been nothing short of an event in my life. This time too was
no different.
I had,
however, a lot of time to kill. Long train journeys can be cumbersome, but if you
know how to utilize your time inside an Indian train compartment, you will be
fine.
One of the
most compelling aspects of an Indian train journey is observing your
co-passengers. I have always found the behaviour of the varied
co-passengers I have come across quite intriguing; their different moods, their views on a variety
of things, the way they dress and speak, are all points that I habitually take
note of. That in long train journeys a bunch of strangers are packed together in
a bogie for close to two days is something which really fascinates me. They eat
and sleep in the same environment, often make bonds, share their life stories,
and then never see each other ever again.
My fellow
passengers on this journey were a middle-aged Marwari woman and her 10-year-old
son. Before long, we got to talking; about her life in Kolkata and how she finds
it difficult to handle two young children in today’s age. I had noticed that
her son was completely engrossed on a mobile phone. It irked me and I brought
this to her notice.
She shrugged
and said, “I don’t like it myself, but
there is not much that I can do about it either. Sometimes I give the phone to
him just to shut him up. See I am a house-wife and have plenty of work to do while
I am at home. There is a lot of stress. I can’t always tend to his
entertainment. That is why I just give him the mobile so that he will be off my
back for some time at least. I feel bad about it sometimes. But what to do?
Things were different when we were young. Families were bigger and everyone
lived together with much harmony, taking care of each other’s needs. We used to
be very friendly even with our neighbours back then. As a child, I never got
bored and would play all day with my cousins and neighbours. Things have
changed a lot now. Everyone prefers to
stay in their own bubble and there is hardly any genuine interaction. And all
we have for entertainment are malls or mobile phones. Thus, to keep my kids
entertained, I have to depend on these mobiles.”
I had no
answer to counter this and understood her point of view. Things really had
changed now; no matter how annoying it may seem to me, I thought sadly. My
thoughts were broken by a poke. It was the little boy who, I had not noticed,
was now sitting beside me. “Bhaiya, can I
read your comics?” he asked me a tad shyly. “Sure” I said, and handed him the comic books while feeling pleased for
some reason. Perhaps there was still hope…
**
One thing
that perhaps every single person travelling in a train does enjoy is gazing
outside the window at the world rushing by. I, for one, find it to be a deeply
soothing activity. The panoramic view of the greenery around, the myriad faces of
the people you see along with the contrasting emotions in them, and even the frequently
changing habitation, are extremely captivating to take in.
It was
daytime now and while most in the coach were lazing around, I just kept scanning
the vibrant view outside. The sights and sounds of rural India never ceases to
amaze me. What is even more fascinating is the changing landscape as you pass each
state. Every state in our country has a distinct pattern of flora, color of the
soil, language, appearance of the local people, and even the structure of the
dwellings. You can get to observe all this just through the window of your
train seat if you are willing to peer carefully enough.
The train
was currently speeding forward and outside I saw a group of kids waving; at no
one in particular, but just at the train itself, in absolute delight. A little
further ahead, a man was getting ready to board his scooter while a woman,
possibly his wife, stood near him with a bag in her hands. Behind them was
their house: a small, simple dwelling with a couple of windows, just one room
and an asbestos roof. Both of them were oblivious to the train zooming past
them. The bolting train did not give me a chance to observe a little more, but I
wondered what kind of a life the man would be leading. Was he content with what
he had? Did he want a bigger home? Where would he now be travelling to?
It was
amazing how far my train of thought could travel, I realized and smiled. That
man doesn’t even know I exist, but for a couple of fleeting seconds I had got a
glimpse into his life and felt connected to him for some reason. This is always
the case whenever I travel in trains. I let my imagination run wild and begin relating
to absolute strangers, even if it is for brief seconds.
I was
brought out of my reverie by a soulful voice. It came from the seats behind me.
Apparently, a group of Bengalis there, to pass time, had begun singing. Among
the group was a middle-aged woman whose song, or rather the voice that she sung
in, caught my attention. It was so mellifluous that everyone around had stopped
what they were doing and craned their necks to get a better reception of her
song. The words that she sang went something like this: “Ja Re… Ja Re Ure Ja Re Pakhi…” which literally meant ‘Go on O bird,
go on, go fly away’.
I noted down
the first few words of it in my notebook for future reference and then began
enjoying the song. She sang with such heart and such enthusiasm that almost
everyone in the bogie began clapping slowly with her dulcet rhythms. It was a
beautiful moment. The train was moving into Madhya Pradesh and I could see the
rich verdant greenery of the state for miles ahead. I kept my head on the
window sill and listened to the woman sing with all her heart. “Aakashe akashe phire… ja phire apon neer-e…”
The cloudy skies above were in perfect contrast to the vibrant voice below. It
was a beautiful moment indeed…
***
My childhood
is filled with countless memories of my previous train journeys to Udaipur.
During those days, I, my brother and my mother, would travel to my naani ghar only during our school summer
vacations. Those were good days, despite the fact that we travelled in the
oppressive May heat in sleeper class coaches and despite the fact that we had
to break our journey for lack of any direct trains to Udaipur. But just the
fact that I would get the opportunity to visit my naani ghar and that too in a train was reason enough for me to get
my adrenaline pumping. I loved
travelling in trains then and the only opportunity for it arrived once a year.
I remember
some images from those journeys very vividly: me sitting on the lower middle
berth with my nose buried in my comics, my brother sitting at the window side (he
would never let me sit there despite my vehement protests), and our mother
sitting opposite from us. She would often narrate stories of her childhood in
Udaipur to us; her favourite ones being how our Nana would prepare snacks for
her after she returned from school to his eatery, how she would try and stop
her eldest sister from thrashing pesky boys, and how our Nana had established
his ‘hotel’ after endless hardships and hassles. Her face would glow
particularly whilst narrating the last one. It would be pleasing to see her so animated
and I would often egg her on for more stories.
These train
journeys and the holidays following it was, in fact, the only real relaxation
period that my mother would get. Her life as a housewife was quite grueling and
she hardly got any reprise from it. Hence, during these train journeys, she
would, more often than not, fall asleep for long periods; even while sitting. I
used to find it amusing and regularly teased her for it as well. But deep down,
I felt sorry for her; wishing that I could somehow ease her burden.
**
The long
train journeys to Udaipur would also give me enough time to imagine how I was
to spend my holidays there. My naani ghar
was a massive place teeming with innumerable relatives: nanas, nanis, maamas
and maasis; most of whom I shared a great rapport with. Lying on the upper
berth, I would picture myself spending time in the many nooks and corners of
the house, playing cricket in the open field there and visiting the different
bazaars of the city and gorging on the wide assortment of snacks found there. Yes,
I really savored those precious moments of envisaging.
However,
there was one particular feature of these train journeys which stands out above
everything else: the morning when the train would be about to enter Udaipur. The
feeling of those mornings is quite incomparable really. I remember waking up in
the wee hours of the morning and sitting close to the window of my seat; trying to gape
outside in the darkness and get a feel of the cold Rajasthan air. I would
remain rooted to my spot until the rays of the sun would lift the cover of darkness and release
the magnificence of Rajasthan to me. The unique structure of the stone walls
around the local houses, the breathtaking mountains, the spectacular lushness;
they would all be tremendously overwhelming and I would feast my eyes on them
hungrily for as long as I could. Those few hours of waiting to get into Udaipur
envelop a delightful part of my childhood that, thankfully, is retained
somewhat even to this day.
My
excitement would reach its zenith when the train would slowly but assuredly
begin to chug into the Udaipur City station. The moment I would see the big yellow
and black board featuring the name of the city, my heart would begin pumping
like mad, the smile would never leave my face... My home away from home,
greeting me into its arms…Pure bliss it was.
I also had
this habit whenever I would dismount from the train onto the Udaipur station:
of taking a long, deep breath; assuring myself that I am finally breathing the
Udaipur air. It made me feel that all of this was indeed real. That the real
adventure was now about to begin.
***
I could
still feel the salty crumbs of the poha
in my mouth, despite having had it more than an hour back at the Chittaurgarh
station. Eating poha at Chiitaurgarh
was almost like a tradition. It signaled the true arrival of Rajasthan to me. And
now I knew that Udaipur was just more than an hour away.
 |
| The customary snacks cart at the Chiitaurgarh station selling poha |
I looked
outside the window at the familiar sights whizzing by: the mountains, the stone
walls, and the trees with some peacocks on them. A smile spread through my
face. They were images I could never get bored of. Perhaps I did not feel the
same level of thrill I once did on seeing them. But there still was that rush
of excitement surging through me, albeit slightly abated, as Udaipur dawned closer.
A lot has
changed in these past years. My naani
ghar didn’t exude the same lure as it once did to me, the city too now bore
a modern touch; peeling off several layers of its rustic charm with every
passing day, my mother wasn’t there on the opposite seat to narrate any further
tales of her adventures in Udaipur, my brother too wasn’t there beside me to
fight for the window seat. I sat there in my berth all alone (my father was
sitting in the seats behind me, talking to some Bengalis, and the woman and her
son had gotten off at Kota the previous night), reflecting on the days gone by.
Yes, things had changed. But my love for Udaipur hadn’t diminished. A part of
me - the part which had spent many a glorious summers in the city - still
remained alive there. I was hopeful that someday, in some of the city’s busy lanes
or along the banks of some of its placid lakes, I will discover that part of me
again.
With a loud
honk, I was yet again brought back to the present. The train was now about to
enter its destination. I hastily picked up my luggage and, along with my father,
rushed towards the exit door. I peered out and was greeted by a familiar yellow
and black board at the starting point of the station,
featuring the words ‘Udaipur City’; the sun rays bouncing off of it and making
it appear absolutely sparkling. My heart began pounding again. The smile too returned
to my face. The city attracts me, pulls me towards it, like nothing ever has.
The train
finally came to a halt and I got off. While everyone around me scuttled towards
the exit, I took a moment to seep in the surroundings. With a long and deep
breath, I calmed my nerves. Even if it was just four days that awaited me in
the city, I knew that they would add another enchanting chapter to my Udaipur
chronicles of love. I knew…I knew that I was home… My home away from home…
With those
happy thoughts, I hurried ahead. The part of me lying in the heart of the city
was waiting to be uncovered after all…
(To be concluded)
