I miss train journeys.
When I think of train journeys, the first thing that comes to my mind is the ping preceding the announcement they make in the stations, informing passengers, almost always about how delayed their rides are. When I was a child, my parents smiled at my impressions of these announcements. I don’t do the impressions anymore.
My hometown and the place my parents chose to settle in are a little short of 400kms in distance. From my early childhood, my family, because of the economy with which they could traverse this distance, chose trains to do so. My relationships with trains were formed in these early years. And trains have, and probably always will be symbols of togetherness, of time off from school, and of going back to one’s roots.
When I moved out for my job, I realized what a lifesaver a train was for an average Indian citizen. The catch, however, is that if you need a ticket urgently, you need to opt for the tatkal booking, which is essentially a game of fastest finger first. Unsurprisingly, I wasn’t always able to get a ticket on these long machines and had to opt for a bus instead. I hate bus journeys. For me, it could neither rival the comfort provided by the full-length berths of trains nor could it keep the movements inside to a point where one could read something. While Dr. Sheldon Cooper loved trains for being agents of order in a world of chaos, I guess one might consider my reasons for the same to be shallow. What can I say, I’m a simple man.
And then, the slippery slope of spending on tickets hit me. As I realized that I tend to spend significantly more on an urgently booked bus ticket, I realized that I could spend a bit more and get myself a flight ticket. Before I knew it, flights became my new normal, and I could always justify the additional cost by the travel time saved. While my mother questioned my spending habits, my father was a staunch supporter. I think he was just proud to see me being able to afford flight tickets. I guess it’s only fair. Growing up in a middle-class family in the country, flights were always considered a luxury and people who were able to afford them as successful.
And then came the nail in the coffin. When I left my job to pursue MBA in an institute more than 2000kms away from home, flights became the default mode of transport. Somewhere among the clean terminals and the fancy lounges for layovers, I forgot what journeys on trains were like.
Now, I find myself pining to be back in one of those coaches, roaring past the vast paddy fields and people waiting on the other side of the crossings. I miss looking out of the window, the rails on the other side of the track creating illusions of coming to life, merging seamlessly, only to split away after a few heartbeats. I miss zoning out looking out of the window, thinking about what alternative ways an argument with someone could have gone, only to be rudely interrupted by a blazing fast train sending a blast of air into my face leaving my heart racing. I miss the smell of hot snacks and the distinctive tone in which they call out to the passengers. I miss the announcements in train stations which I used to imitate, down to the last detail. I don’t imitate it anymore because I’ve forgotten how it goes.
I miss train journeys.
