Memories of Midsummer Days

The year was 1994; somewhere in the middle of May’s searing heat.

A lilt of life sprung up at platform number 14. Geetanjali Express finally rumbled into Howrah Junction after a long three hour fracas with an engine breakdown. A flock of coolies scurried over to bargain a deal with the frazzled passengers in those slowly chugging coaches. With the final halt, a cacophony raised its head. Humans, fatigued by the incessant summer heat, and irked by the delay, carried a curious ado to get out of the inertia of travelling. Clutching their bags in one hand and holding children in the other, mothers obtusely followed the fathers. And where a little luxury held sway, men were negotiating with coolies or the full family was found pursuing a luggage laden coolie. In short, a conscious bustle infused the surroundings. And from the adjacent platform, a six year old Arnab gulped in all this mayhem.

Arnab was journeying as well. Somewhere very far, Jodhpur, as he was told; for his father had secured a new job. Slurping on his favourite orange lollipop, his naïve little mind couldn’t understand the clamour around him, for the concept of trains and journeys was pretty much terse hitherto. His unripe memories discerned only one type of train trips till then; from his grandpa’s house to his maternal uncle’s house. And to define a train, he knew Calcutta’s suburban local trains that always made a peculiar sound, kooo-jhik-jhik. Pretty captivating for this little soul. However, now, these trains, even the station appeared different. Quite bigger in size. And there wandered some men, dressed in red, whom his father called ‘coolie’ were eagerly carrying big bags and suitcases on their heads. How could they? He pondered.

Another raucous whistle Arnab heard. And this time it was in the same platform where his whole family was chopping on some elderly issues. He peeped from his grandma’s lap. An unhurried engine, followed by a long queue of coaches in tow, approached the platform. That was apparently his train. A big yellow board with the train’s name painted on it passed in front of his eyes. R-A-J-D-H-A-N-I Express, Arnab read out aloud. A booming but indistinct announcement was made and Arnab could see a similar hustle taking birth again. But, this time it was for getting inside the train, for the seldom-delayed Rajdhani Express would leave exactly in another half an hour’s time.

Amidst all the moving and milling heads, Arnab caught his father checking something on a white paper that was stuck near the gate of a coach.

“What is father doing Grandma?” Arnab was curious. He had never seen such white sheets sticking outside the trains. Although he did notice some advertising posters inside the compartments of the local ones.

“Whoever travels in the train, they have their names on that sheet. So, father is checking for your names.” Grandma replied.

He remained seated on his grandma’s lap while his parents and Uncle guided the coolie inside. Arnab realized; the time had come. He had to leave now. And also leave behind his grandma’s cuddle, grandpa’s bedtime stories, and the daily evening bike rides with his uncle. Tears rolled down his rosy cheeks and he hugged his grandma tight. None of her distracting words swayed him from his grief. He was at a loss. A handful of cousins and the unrestrained laughter during playtime with them, the unmarred love of his aunts, and of course the ardour of being together; being in a big joint family under one roof.

“Shall I write your name there grandma?” Arnab whispered.

Cocooned inside his doldrums, Arnab did not want to leave. His father failed to lift him from his grandma’s clutch. Seeing the efforts going in vain, grandma herself took him inside the coach, kindling a futile hope within Arnab. Grandma was going with him? Wow! Then why should he cry? He could atone with all other losses if Grandma accompanied him.

Arnab eyeballed the coach. Wait! What was that? Why was it so cold inside? It didn’t look like their house’s refrigerator from where he and his eldest cousin sister used to steal ice cubes. Yet, the chill breeze gliding inside was much alike their freezer.

A little curious, Arnab hopped on the innards of the train. There were rows of big cushioned chairs for everyone to sit. Long racks peeped from the top where every elder was placing their bags. Windows stretched longer than usual with a bluish glass shield and no rods in between. Arnab smiled. He could easily open the window to wave his hands in the wind. All that fine, but where was all that cool breeze coming from?

Yet again a whistle shrieked, and this time the train jerked as well. Much like greased lightning Arnab was snatched out of Grandma’s clasp. Grandma wasn’t travelling? Gosh! In a fleeting second the whole coach was ensconced with a loud cry. Holding against his father’s clasp, Arnab forced his father to follow grandma. Poor little soul, he whimpered with the stings of separation. Nothing could convince him. Neither lollipops, nor anyone’s consoling words.

On the dot, the final whistle blew and the wheels rolled along. With that sundown, an unfaltering love, latent in every joint family was witnessed by all. Arnab’s bawl was audible indeed. Nevertheless, people around also saw the emotional turmoil of his entire bloodline who stood still on the platform until the last vestiges of the train turned the corner.

Fagged out from his emotional outburst, in a matter of few minutes Arnab slept off, with his head on his father’s shoulder. And, by the time he opened his eyes, Rajdhani Express was dashing through endlessly stretching green fields. Arnab was startled. All his grief fell between the cracks for he had never seen such huge agricultural fields before; he had never been on a train which was so fast and at the same time never made that koo-jhik-jhik. His eyes, as big as saucers, stuck to the window to follow those departing trees.

Busy trying to catch a glimpse of every passing landscape, Arnab was in for a surprise yet again. An unknown uncle, wearing some kind of uniform, handed him over a flask of milk with a packet of chocolate rolls. Arnab was tickled pink with happiness.

“You didn’t give him money father!” Arnab stood up on his seat and muttered.

“We needn’t.” Father chortled. “This is Rajdhani Express. They will give us dinner as well.”

Absurd! Why would we have dinner in a train? There was no dining table either, mused Arnab while tucking into the chocolate rolls which deliciously melted in his mouth.

And before Father could suck in some relief, Trouble reared its ugly head again. The crimson sun finally set and it darkened outside. The green fields and trees were no longer visible to Arnab. And now, he wanted to open the windows to see through. Mother threw out her premonitions. She had anticipated this and had been asking father for sleeper class coaches.

Gradually, with nothing to distract him, Arnab fell into the pits of despair from the recent separation. He nagged to go back to Calcutta, to his grandma, to his cousins. Gleaning out the approaching complaints from both sides, Father kicked in an innocuous query.

“Arnab, the windows do not open, then where is this chill breeze coming from?”

Ah! So father too had this doubt. Before Arnab could frame an answer, Father spoke again.

“Come with me. I will show you something.”

And there, the six year old Arnab received an impeccable introduction to Indian Railways. Within the clasp of his father, he fathomed that there was a big brother of ceiling fans; air-conditioner, which could keep all of them cool inside the train without even opening the window. With minimal halts, Rajdhani loped along with intermittent jerks. Scared he was, to walk on a moving train lest he should fall as Mother always had cautioned. However, holding Father’s hand he was all buttoned up. Wondered about the small wash basins and toilets inside a train and also panicked lest should he fall prey to the big hole in the toilet. Arnab was stunned as he walked from coaches to coaches through the connecting vestibules and watched those Railway Police Force cadets guarding the train.

“Does this train ever stop Father?”

“These are long journey trains Arnab. They stop, but only at big stations.”

“How big?”

How to explain that? Father was pondering on this when the train slowed down its pace as Kanpur Junction neared. Arnab’s doubt was answered in full. Rajdhani had a halt of fifteen minutes at Kanpur Junction. Father and Arnab even got down to stroll on the station.

Such a long platform. So many hawkers selling tea, aaloo-puri and what not. One more long train stood on the other side. Arnab had never been to such a station. Soon they clambered back into the coaches and the train left Kanpur Junction.

At 8.30p.m sharp, dinner was served. Suddenly the square board-like thing stuck to the seat in front of him was opened to reveal a small table. Arnab was amazed to see his personal small dining table. As he articulated his recently gained knowledge about the trains, Mother clenched that chance to feed him with minimal fussing.

Next morning, when Rajdhani pulled into New Delhi station, Arnab witnessed the majesty of India’s capital. Coolie uncles helped Father to manage their luggage there too.

“Are we going to stay here Mother?”

Mother fondled his head and replied. “We have to catch another train to reach Jodhpur. But in the evening.”

“One more train?” Oh! What excitement Arnab showed this time.

Before their second train trip, Arnab was all abreast with big stations, superfast trains and also with the difference between waiting rooms and a retiring rooms. Perhaps in 6 years, it was the first time Arnab had spent so much time with his Father.

In the last leap of their journey, Arnab found himself travelling on a train which had closed rooms, what they called a coupe. And, it apparently had beds too, which were called berths.

Miles apart from his loved ones, Arnab was certainly unhappy. Lying on his berth behind his mother, he did shed tears, for he never knew how this ‘Jodhpur’ would be. New school, new friends, no cousins, no Grandma. Given a chance he would run back home. Nevertheless, that night the six year old boy felt an immense love, not for his bloodline alone but for trains as well.