The Train Journey

Kuchalambal had just packed off Vishwa and Gomati, her young tenant couple, to work. She had now retired to the balcony watching the street gearing up for the busy day ahead. Gomati had seemed sickly today, and had refused breakfast too. Her worried husband insisted that she do not go to work that day, but was promptly turned down by a anxious Gomati, she was expected to be in office today for a important event. She was the Public relations In-charge and was responsible for organizing the event to be presided over by the MD. Finally Vishwa relented.

It was so fulfilling for Kuchalambal to watch the young ones dote over each other, reminded her of her own days after marriage. Within seven months of her marriage Pathabi landed a job in Delhi, a family friend had arranged for his employment, and in those days when jobs were hard to come by, it was the happiest news that the young couple could possibly expect.

It seemed like yesterday. First day of May 1964, the day when they landed in Karol Bagh, travel weary, holding a lone steel trunk and bed roll, and of course the tiffin carrier emptied of its contents of three days’ supply of Idly’s & Curd Rice. The back breaking journey in the Grant Trunk Express with its innumerable stops, passengers boarding and de-boarding all though the various stations, the innumerable Chai & Coffee vendors, the fruit sellers and magazine vendors, excitement over the changing terrain they passed by, leaving the know, into unknown lands, was even now etched in her mind. Different languages, strange food the type of which they were hardly familiar with, changing from the very familiar south Indian to a gradually north Indian flavors from station to station, were all an alien experience for homemaker, who had hardly ever stepped out alone, leave alone such a long journey.

The day she & her husband set out for Delhi, their entire clan had come to the Central Station in Madras, to see them off, her parents accompanied by her two brothers, her Patti(grandmother) all of eighty years old, Vichu their rustic cousin from Lalgudi, Pattabi’s parents, and his sisters were all present. When the time for farewell drew near, the women folk bust out in a relay of tears, displaying the anxiety of sending the young ones on a journey so far, seldom traversed by many in the clan. The best they could remember was when Pattabi’s great grandfather had set out to visit ‘Kasi’ never to return again. For these simple Mylaporeans, Delhi seemed to be a far away land yet.

Her Mom in law came out a with a long list of ‘To dos and not to dos, her mother seemed to be inconsolable, her sisters bursting out in unison, with huge sobs as if the house was on fire. But among all these holding the fort was Pattabi, unmindful of all the sorrow, grinning from ear to ear, and bidding farewell to one and all. As the guard, blew the first whistle, she clutched desperately to her Mom’s hands through the steel grill, seeking hope against hope for reasons to stay back, only to be reassured by a comforting pat from her father. The long line of waving hands on the platform, seemed so eerie, foretelling a final farewell to the life as she knew till now.

Sitting in the late morning sun, she was lost into the memories of that epic journey. She remembered settling down for the long journey, the varying olfactory stimulus seem to etch different memories in her minds, starting with the stink from the Basin Bridge, to the smell of burning coal from the loco engine, the smell of the rice fields of Andhra, the fresh air of the eastern ghats, the dry winds of the Chambal valley. Passing through the Chambal, she half expected horse mounted bandits to appear in the horizon. When the train passed through the rugged terrain, the scenes from the movie ‘For a few dollars more’, came to her mind, Pattabi was a big time movie buff and had dragged her along to watch the new release. The smattering of English that she knew, was hardly enough to understand the dialogs, but Pattabi’s whispered explanation kept her updated, he seem to be hardly bothered by the muttering of the irritated people in the rows behind. The terrain that now presented across her was similar to the one she had seen in the movie, bone dry, dusty, ugly gashes in the valley side made by some unimaginable hand of nature, the only sign of life around being a few vultures making a meal of a departed animal, the fear of the bandits kept her clutching the window bars in apprehension.
The sweltering heat of the peak summer made their journey even more difficult. The water in the ‘Gooja’ was almost set to boil in the afternoon heat, the endless tumblers of warm water hardly quenching their thirst. They were in the fourth compartment from the engine. The dust laden, scalding wind, gushing into the compartment, also carrying with it the charcoal laden particles from the steam engine made their faces dark and dusky. A white towel wetted frequently to wipe the faces had gone black in the process. Kuchalambal desperately searched around for a tender coconut in all the stations along the way, not realizing that she had left behind the last one, some one thousand miles behind.


The Tumbling and turning of the train kept her awake all night long, she had slept through a major part of the afternoon as the train struggled its way through the fields set on fire in the summer heat with her hubby keeping a keen eye on their belongings. Now under the dark blue light of the night lamp in the compartment, she lay awake unable to sleep. Each passing shadow reminded her of the horror stories of robberies in trains. Her meager jewelry consisting of one ‘Manga Malai’, a two tola chain and a set of bangles were all locked up in the trunk they were carrying. She reassuringly touched the locked trunk, and suddenly remembered her mother’s face, and felt terribly lonely and a sudden panic overtook her, while a huge sob escaped her throat, it was drowned in the noise of the overhead fan. The rocking motion of the train & the fatigue, took their toll as she slipped into a slumber.


She was woken up from her sleep, with ‘Capi’ ‘Capi’ ringing in her ears, a gentle nudge from her ever smiling husband, with a cup of coffee in his hand, did the trick as she got up eagerly to look out of the window. ‘Agra’ said Pattabi, we are near Agra, and couple of hours more, we shall be in Delhi, and he smiled once again, without a care in the world. At the name of ‘Agra’, she instinctively looked out of the window searching for the ‘Taj’. No, grinned the ever smiling one, one can’t see it from the train, he said, realizing what she was looking out for.
Reaching deep into the travel bag, she began hunting for her toothbrush, only to be beaten to the task by her better half, he had already washed the brush, and put an inch of ‘Colgate’ on it, as he extended it to her with one more smile. God she wondered, how can he smile so much !! as she gathered herself to visit the toilet, the repulsive stench of the toiled did little to encourage her onwards, but the golden rule of brushing her teeth immediately on getting up, made her hold on to her guts as she swayed on the motions of the train, trying to brush. It was the most disgusting morning brushing she had ever done. half way done with the process she found the door of the toilet being pushed open forcibly, she was startled, but hurriedly pushed back the door to bolt it. “Kundi band karo”, shouted a voice from beyond. “Kundi kyon nahi band karte” the man was yelling. Repeated use of the word ‘Kundi’ was equally shocking to her, she hurriedly finished brushing and came rushing out, to the safer confines of her berth looking for her hubby to complaint about the incident. Needless to say Pattabi was no master in Hindi either, he went crimson with anger at the mention of the word and went looking for the rustic guy who had shouted the expletives at her. She later learnt that even after a lot of convincing by co-passengers, Pattabi would not accept, that the word uttered had an entirely different meaning in Hindi. It was a joke they would share between themselves for lot many years to come

Thirty Eight hours after leaving Madras, the couple landed in Delhi. It was forty six degrees centigrade outside in the sun. It was as if the blistering roast of a journey they had undergone, was only a curtain raiser to the hotter days to come.
As she let her foot touch the platform, little did she know that this city would be her home till the end. The soft clinking of her ‘golusu’ (Anklet) was lost in the mad cacophony on the platform.