Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Image courtesy : madpai on Flickr, check usage terms before using the image.
A sudden jerk shakes containers that lie parked in yard at Hazrat Nizammudin railway station in Delhi. The 6 year old is inquisitive figuring out which of the two trains, one in which he is sitting or the goods train beside, is moving.
Soon he is more interested in the mango pickle, that his Mama got packed in the tiffin for the night. He is not very much interested in the food, but mango pickle is his favourite; even with the sore throat. He prevents both his Mama and Dad from having even a single piece of vitamin A and C rich delicacy. He literally enters into quarrel with mamu, who incidentally happens to be his another favourite and very fondly pats him on the back even to this date.
Night passes calmly in that train berth with yellow flickering lights and noisy fans. The morning dawns bright and lanky kid continues to stick his head at the window rail while vendors continue to scream to make a living. He is adamant and continues to take notes of descending numbers, 267/45, 267/44, 267/43... that appear on each passing pole on this route to Indore city in the state of Madhya Pradesh.
At Nagda junction, the engine would shunt and train would move in reverse direction after a break of about 20 minute. Mamu would use this opportunity to prank the guy that the driver is annoyed so we are returning back and the guy would still be happy thinking it to be another opportunity to be in the train for 12 more hours. Meanwhile train would gather pace and switch tracks rapidly, producing melanchonic music of its own kind.
Guy sticks his head out again and this time will exclaim with bright glowing eyes that a diesel engine is pulling the train, unlike the electric locomotive in the morning. He always liked it when the snail like train took a long curve, blowing dirt from rubble clad tracks in the Malwa plateau region. An ecstatic yellow milk drink at Ujjain made this 850 km long journey worth it and a temple sits graciously atop the hill just outside Dewas city, famous for a Reserve Bank Of India printing facility. Indore is an altogether different story, a ride in Premier Padmini, with a PAL logo decorating its steering, to Massi's place is an unparalleled luxury...
The story is not complete but journey part is over and what remains is more sugary!