So, how is it waiting at the airport? Salman Khan has
suddenly made travel so much more economical the airplane way. There are also
some real fab deals available for flight tickets, so everyone wants to travel
by air.
You save travel time, the whole airport is air conditioned
unlike the sultry and sometimes stinky railway stations, and of course everyone
is looking their best strutting around like they are on the ramp, all prim and
proper, so yes it is more civilized and last but not the least, every living
person including the house keeping people are dead serious and committed, the
epitome of service and customer care. Nobody is eating masala groundnuts from
the trolleys like the railways, all are either reading novels, the bestsellers
mind you, or reading the newspapers like the ideal educated community should.
The sophistication of the travelers is almost contagious and suddenly everyone
is elite. No one speaks loudly, forget screaming, all hush hush conversations
are extremely delicate and important and no one should hear, so you are
supposed to bend your head towards the other person and speak.
All the the televisions, sorry the LED screens would be
telecasting the news channels or sports, so all that I can see now is NDTV or
the IPL. You know I miss the railway stations, I remember Sridevi on TV's in the railway stations dancing to the nagin (snake) songs. The smell of the railways is so
known, its almost comforting like saying that go ahead, dirty the place, you
wont be penalized, its already pretty dirty so there’s not much you can
contribute too. The only fragarance would be the inviting filter coffee in the
south and the kullad matka chai in the north. The railway staff would be
pushing trolleys wearing the worn out grey outfits selling everything from
chips and chai to bread and omelette. Its awesome you know. I used to wait for
my parents to keep the baggage down on the railway platform and I would start
jumping up and down to have a trip to the trolleys, and then to the
higginbothams book stall for my quota of chandamama, tinkle or wisdom children’s
issue. I think the maximum my parents would spend for me would not be more than
forty rupees but it would make my day.
What an experience that was!
The bonding we would have over the journey was the best part
I guess. 3 long days from Delhi’s Hazrat Nizamuddin junction to Hubli junction
in Karnataka. Whether it was second class or air conditioned, the whole
compartment was ours, me, amma, appa , and my elder brother anna. No sooner
than we entered, amma would take out a spare bedsheet and appa would tie it to
both the upper berths. With the body of the bedsheet hanging down, it was my
swing and my domain. Anyone wanting to swing on it had to take my permission
and bribe me with some food. Yeah, corruption is bad. It explained why I would
be rounder and plumpier after my vacations than before.
The rest of the bogie was my brother’s domain including all
the stunts you can pull off in between 4 berths. We would swing, hang, kick,
fight, transfer ourselves from the upper left berth to the upper right berth
and vice versa. The highlight of the journey would be me falling down at least
one which was with a very loud thud, but not very painful considering the fat
mass surrounding me all over. The loud thud and my louder wails would bring all
the neighbouring passengers to our compartment and of course more bribing
followed and I was happier before anyone new. Then of course there was making
new friends. Me and my brother were in charge of the games section, so there
would be cards, ludo, chess of which the pieces went missing before the end of
the journey, and other knick knacks. The train peddlers would increase our
stalk and my parent’s anger too.
There was so much we did in those 3 days. The walks to the
train pantry to pick up hot stuff, getting down at stations to eat the special
food of that place, like dal vadas at Vijaywada, steaming hot puri bhaji at
Jhansi, petha at Agra, kullad chai throughout, huge papads with chat masala at Hapud, near Bareilly and so on and so forth. I loved the bread crumbs in the
tomato soup and the packed biryani and cutlets and samosas… my God, as I write I remember more and more. Then there were the times when the
train would start moving and appa would still not be on board, we would start
crying, amma would look worried and suddenly our hero, appa would arrive with
ice creams and newspaper in hand. What a
time that was! Crossing from one
bogie to the other over those shaky
metal boards, just checking people out in other bogies and making new friends.
Those days were lovely and I enjoyed every iota of them.
Why am I writing all this? Because I am sitting at the
Bangalore international airport amongst people who feel that looking like a
stranger is the way to be hip. Every second person is buying newspapers maybe
because it is actually the cheapest thing available at the terminal. Sometimes I feel so out of place being at the
airport, there are no silly conversations, no loud laughs, everyone is so busy
and important and before I know it once I am on the plane and an hour later I
am at Mumbai, a journey that takes 18 hours by train, will be over in an hour
and a half max. agreed, it is the space age and we are busier and there’s just
no time, just how much are we missing out on? How many cups of tea have we
really enjoyed looking at the scenery outside from the train?
You know there was a fun and glee in the stink and dirt from
the train journey and the smoke of the engine. Seeing the train turn around a
bend, screaming through tunnels, laughing and counting the number of bogies in a
passing train, cracking stupid jokes, opening the shutter of the reading light
in the AC compartment and reading in it, getting up early and doing potty in steel
toilets which kept moving with the rhythm of the train, Oh! The untidiness and
the smiles of strangers and the sales people in the trains, paying money to the
little kids who came and cleaned the compartments, and the blind ones who came
and sang, being grateful for having parents and education and clean clothes and
a respectable family. It’s all but a dream now.
Now, the airline company would message on your mobile and
ask you to check in 2 hrs earlier, and make you wait at the boarding gate drinking
in the AC and the cold stares of people. Its all plastic, everything. I
miss the homely railways and wish I had more time. I wish I was a kid again and
travelled with my parents and brother all over. I wish I had taken more
pictures and videos. I wish I could live that life all over again. But that
won’t happen. Now, I don’t have time and I will pay more than thrice the rail
fare to travel in one tenth the space of a train in an aeroplane, crammed with
2 more people in economy class. All this to save time, one precious commodity we all wish we had more
of. No wonder its is very true, old is gold.
And life goes on and on, careers, finances, family holidays
if you have the time. The irony of it all?
Wishing that the old days come back and life becomes easy and relaxed,
warm and comfortable once again.
Just like the legend
Jagjit Singh sang, one of my favourite lines:
Yeh daulat bhi le lo, yeh shohorat bhi le lo,
Bhale cheen lo mujh se meri jawaani,
Magar mujhko lauta do bachpan ka saawan,
Wo kaagaz ki kashti, wo bearish ka paani,
wo kaagaz ki kashti, wo baarish ka paani...
take away my wealth and fame, even take away my youth, but return me the monsoon of my childhood, those paper boats, the water of the rains, those paper boats, the drops of the rains...
