Remember the good old chug-chug? You ate, played cards and ludo, shared samosas - and arrived! People share train memories with TOI...
Jab we met!
Biddu, composer
It's been at least 40 years since I last went on a train. But I remember it almost as if it was yesterday. I was 17 at the time and my two friends and I, who were part of my pop group called The Trojans, were running away from our homes in Bangalore to big, bad Calcutta. At Hyderabad, two young ladies joined our compartment. The girls were fair and lovely like the advertisement, and soon the five of us were yapping away like old friends. They told us they were sisters and princesses at that, and we believed them, because they were dressed in finery that only royalty could afford. We failed to ask why the princesses were travelling second class. But did it matter? Not a jot, because by now the journey suddenly took on the excitement of a first date. The five of us played cards and told each other ribald stories as we laughed into the night. The girls shared their biryani with us while we offered them cold samosas and warm tea. When we finally arrived at Calcutta, we made promises to stay in touch. Now where did I write down their names and telephone number?
Memories of Partition
Gurcharan Das, author
I was four years old when Partition came and we had to flee for our lives. We took refuge initially at our guru's ashram in Beas, near Jullunder. From there we took a train to Simla, where my father had been posted. From the window of our compartment, I saw a tall Muslim police officer standing erect on the platform. Suddenly, there was movement. A train was coming from Delhi, going to Lahore. Two young Sikh boys emerged from nowhere - they could not have been more than 15. They thrust a dagger from behind into the policeman. He did not cry. He just fell and died. My mother pulled me back and tried to shut the window, but it would not close. Eventually we reached Ambala, where we changed for Kalka, and from there got on the hill train for Simla. The view from the tiny window of the miniature hill train was enough to refresh the most exhausted emotions. Northwards rose the confused Himalayan chains, range after range of the world's highest mountains. At Shogi, we glimpsed the first wondrous vision of Simla. From afar, it looked like a mythical green garden dotted with red-roofed houses.
Gold Spot, chips & a view!
Sarnath Banerjee, graphic novelist
Istill take trains whenever I can, but the occasions are getting fewer and further. As a child, I remember getting into the Delhi-bound Rajdhani from Howrah in the middle of the monsoons, under darkening skies and with the threat of thunder. Entire family settling down - cousins, uncles and aunts, hold-alls being unrolled on the floor, Gold Spots, Gems and chips being handed out to calm down the children, ghost stories to put them to sleep. Later at university, going back to Calcutta, how suddenly the terrain would change from the arid cow belt to the eye-piercing green of Bihar and Bengal. The excitement of going back to Calcutta, familiarity, the old Ambassador parked right outside platform 1. Then a detour through the maidan, everything unchanged except parents getting a few extra wrinkles. Recently, my parents along with my wife and a close friend travelled together. We saw a film on the laptop, while late evening UP rushed by. Mother played 'Civilisation' till midnight. Flasks of tea. When living in Paris, the train station wasn't very far. Once, I took a train to St Malo, one that was filled with Indian writers going to attend a literary festival and we broke all rules!
Simple meals & conversation!
Umesh Ramakrishnan, author & vice-chairman, CT Partners
In those days, the journey was almost better than the destination itself. My sister and I would leave Bangalore during the summer to spend our holidays in Kerala. Since we had to go all the way to Kannur, the only way to get there by train was to take the Island Express. Our compartment would be decoupled at Ottapalam and then attached to the Madras Mail the next morning. Our highlight was the meals served at night and the incredible appam and stew served as breakfast in Shornur. As we alighted in Kannur, all dark from the soot from the steam engine, we would be grinning with delight. The flat bed comfort of a first-class intercontinental flight pales in comparison to a long lazy summer day spent on a hard wooden seat watching the green paddy fields shimmering along the Malabar coast. On a train, you shared intimate thoughts with people who were strangers on a platform just before they sat next to you. You shared simple meals and delightful conversation. And we were richer for our experience.
'We chased them with hockey sticks'
Vinay Pathak, actor
My most memorable journey is the one I took as an NCC cadet to a military camp in Himachal Pradesh. From Ranchi, we first took the train to Delhi, from there to Amritsar, then on to Pathankot, where Army trucks took us ahead. There were 90 of us, with about four teachers as chaperones. We planned to play Ludo and the 'goonda' gang decided to sneak along cigarettes and beer. One of the guys wrote down the names of the 100-odd stations that we crossed in his diary. We used to tease him, saying, "The TT is at it again". At Saharanpur, around 10 pm, a woman with two men and holding a baby tried to come into our bogey and even as we stopped them, the train began to gather momentum. The men took out knives to threaten us but our hockey sticks were a match for them. At our first stop in Amritsar, we showered in our swimming trunks with a pipe on the tracks. We had the day off and watched two movies that day - Suhaag in a multiplex-in-the-making, where three cinema halls Suraj, Chanda and Tara graced a single compound and The Burning Train on a 70-mm screen in Gagan Talkies.
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-&-style/people/A-ride-to-remember/articleshow/5852283.cms
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