Faster
than fairies, faster than witches, Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And
charging along like troops in a battle, All through the meadows the horses and
cattle:
All
of the sights of the hill and the plain, Fly as thick as driving rain;
And
ever again, in the wink of an eye, Painted stations whistle by.
Here
is a child who clambers and scrambles, All by himself and gathering brambles;
Here
is a tramp who stands and gazes; And here is the green for stringing the
daisies!
Here
is a cart runaway in the road Lumping along with man and load;
And
here is a mill, and there is a river: Each a glimpse and gone forever!
This is R.L Stevenson’s famous ‘From a
railway carriage.’ I learnt this in Class 1 or 2, but I can still rattle off
the first half of the poem effortlessly. Funnily, in the same way I learnt it
back then.
The luxury of time
As a child, travelling by train was a norm.
Especially, to the place where I had to go to spend my summer vacations or
winter vacations, train was the only option. Infact, even now train is the best
option to that place, they have an airport with a few flights, and people
usually go there for picnics.
As we grow older we start to worry about
things like time because it is running out all the time. To catch-up with it we
give up the joy, the leisure or the comfort that a vacation is supposed to give
us. So we fly, feeling all important and sophisticated, walking around busy
airports and saving travel time.
Realisation dawns in the evening
I never realised how much I miss train
travel till I took on this really long journey. Every moment reminded me of the
anxious moments I had before every vacation. Are the tickets confirmed? Will we
get good seats?Where are we placed on the waitlist? Most of the times we did
manage to get through all these, but once in a while we did come back from the
station, disappointed, with all our luggage intact.
Starting over
This train journey was different. It was my
first without any family, I was more-or-less alone, it was after a really long
time and it was a route not frequented by me as child. I could just call it my
first train journey ever, but that would be wrong.
But that’s the superficial different. The
big difference was doing things I was so far ‘not allowed’ to do during a train
journey. I left my berth more than a dozen times. I’d come back to check on my
luggage, with hope that the senior citizens with the prized lower berth had
fallen asleep, so that I could unlatch my middle berth and sleep myself.
Checking out stations
I stepped out when the train stopped at
some station for really long. This was a privilege usually reserved for the grown-ups.
Even as I stood at the platform, I kept checking if the train was moving. Some
part of me was still scared of being stranded at the platform. Inspite of all
my wishful thinking, I knew that Shahrukh Khan was not going to give me his
hand and pull me onto the moving train. I’d end up running and catching it
myself.
So at the very first sound of the siren, I
jumped and quickly got into the train. Only to realise that it was for another
train. But that’s okay. Atleast I got off the train and walked around a random
station.
Next I spent a major part of my journey
standing near the entrance. The best part, the gates were open. So I literally
lived every word of Stevenson’s poem. I stood there watching the fields, the
mountains and the rivers race past me, each one in a great rush to get
somewhere. I want to believe that they all stopped and took a deep breath once
the train passed them.
It’s not like I have not seen scenery pass
by me in a train before. In the past it has always been from behind the dirty
window seat. Watching it from open doors is exhilarating. Real colours, real
textures, so real that you can reach out and touch them.
Breeze, speed and love
It’s normal to start humming when the
breeze from the speeding train blows through your hair. It’s like nature is
touching you, caressing you tell you, that she loves you. It’s her way of
leaving a part, of all that is passing by so fast, with you.
So I stood there, letting the breeze caress
me and staring at the tracks till they hypnotised me. I swear, if I’d stared
any longer, they would have started talking! So I broke my gaze and looked
away. Ofcourse I was dizzy, but then I could not keep myself from staring at them
again.
Then it was time for the sun to set. Sun
sets are beautiful, and watching it happen from a train is mystically
beautiful. Both the train and the sun are hurrying, they've been running all
day and as destination comes closer, they want to get there sooner. They want
to get home, get rest and start running again the next day.
A strange love story
The destination was not too far away and
now it was time to step out of the gates that were my window to a moving world.
Everything was standing still now. Resting, maybe panting, after that really
long and fast run across the country. I took my bag and left to continue with
the rest of my trip. While I continued with the mundane life of a new-comer in
a big city, I couldn’t help but think that I had rediscovered my love for
travelling by train again.
I was in love all over again!
