What was mundane is now special?
Today, as it rained and I watched it at home, nostalgia took over as I could notice the train siren blaring in the background. I thought what I missed the most. Among the innumerable things I used to do without considering it a privilege, I miss taking the carefree, long-distance train journeys. And that too the ones in 3-tier sleeper bogie.
Let me try to bring it all together. Spending almost all of my life in the fertile plains of Uttar Pradesh until my MBA from Hyderabad, I had taken an overnight train journey to Hyderabad only once. An overnight journey meant I would get to see a different landscape in my country. In the rainy season of the year 1999, I embarked upon a journey to Hyderabad not knowing that this would become so frequent and for so long that it would become a routine soon.
As the train would leave the great Indian fertile plains and enter Jhansi, the Bundelkhand landscape would remind of Jhansi ki Rani. This would also be a train station where you would get the last flavours of Uttar Pradesh. The train would then enter the deccan plateau, the soil colour would turn to red, high river bridges over serpentine and thin rivers exposing the rocky river beds. The tunnels and the train track passing through the midst of green hills would remind of the Dacoits of Chambal and train chase sequence from the blockbuster movie - Sholay.
The train rolls into Bhopal of the famous Soorma Bhopali and you get a different aroma from the food stalls as the vendors and passengers would wear a different accent, not as dramatic as that of Soorma Bhopali. You would know that the next stop where one gets good North or Central Indian cuisine would be at Itarsi - another 4-5 hours further.
If you were already asleep as the train passed through the quiet and past midnight stop at Itarsi, you would be awakened by the early morning hustle of tea vendors at Sewagram. Thoughts of Gandhi ji at a minimalistic railway platform that's almost all green. The unoccupied benches on the open platform would be moist or rain-drenched after a drizzle, often littered with flowers. The kulhad waali chai would be the last delight passed on to you through the rails of the window for a few coins that you were happy to shell out. Cameras were rare and never thought of capturing those mornings on something virtual. Thankfully, it has stayed as fresh as the therapeutic effect of the aromatic tea, beautifully etched on my mind.
And then, a chat with a buddy, on the bogie door, at times enough to have 2 people sit at the doorstep, chatting up as the train changed across tracks giving out some memorable musical notes for those even without the knowledge of it all.
Never thought it as rare and as priceless as our dreams about our future back then. Never taking things as normal, routine or mundane. Everything we do is special.
posted by Qais Mujeeb @ 4:14 AM
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