(Picture of Gomoh Junction, courtesy Indian Railways)
His Diary
On the 5th of March 1967 I boarded the Kalka-Howrah Mail around 8 am from Delhi Junction heading for my college in Ranchi. I had come for a short trip – literally bunking college as there had been a strike and the University had been closed sine die. So, finally, I was heading back. I was travelling alone this time. We were about a dozen boys in our class who belonged to Delhi and we generally travelled in small groups, and without rail reservation. Our trips were hardly ever planned in advance to enable us to get a 3-tier berth in the fastest train in India. The Kalka Mail – was one of the few prestigious and fast trains. It had a dining car, a couple of 3rd Class 3-tier coaches, 1 – 2-tier coach in the second class. It used to traverse the Delhi – Howrah (Calcutta) stretch in about 24 hours; as compared to the 36 hour journey of many of its contemporaries.
It used to be quite an arduous journey. Had to travel in the 'dining car' for most part of the journey – but finally at Mughal Sarai Junction – around 10 pm – the dining car also finally downed its shutters. Mughal Sarai was otherwise my favourite station, it was the only Railway station in the Northern Railway network that had delectable mutton cutlets not only in its Railway Restaurant but also with the vendors on the railway platforms. I believe that the tradition started during the British Raj.
Being a fast train it was always always over crowded. Had to somehow survive till about 2 am when the train reached Gomoh Junction – from there I would be boarding the Patna-Ranchi Express and reach Ranchi early next morning. Sleeping was out of question, so a pack of twenty would be quite handy and a faithful companion through the night.
So far so good, I never travelled with much luggage. A faithful 22” suitcase of beige colour was my permanent companion; it was convenient for me to be able to sit on it in the otherwise jam-packed train. Finally at Gomoh I had managed to enter a crowded compartment through a window – as no one would open the doors at that unearthly hour of two in the morning. I just managed to prop the suitcase on the floor and sat on it. My faithful 20's pack was out when the train got into motion lulling everyone else back to sleep. All through the night I seemed to be only one awake, smoking one cigarette after another – waiting for the sky to brighten and have a cup of tea at a wayside station.
Early morning around seven, the train chugged into Muri Junction. That was the place for the morning tea. I came in with a steaming earthen cup of tea and propped myself back on my suitcase. It was then that I noticed her. She was sitting in the window in the same row of my improvised seat, there was a family of 3 (or was it 4) between us. She was slim, good figure, slightly dark (wheatish – as the matrimonial columns say), and a sweet face. She had briefly looked towards me, or was it towards the tea, and then looked away to the fleeting landscape.
The train chugged on....
We were less than 20 minutes from our destination. “Are you from BIT?” - a very direct question. “Yes?”
That got us talking. She was not shy, and not boisterous either. Her name was “Varsha” - nice name. Next meeting? No go. She was a hosteller in the Women's College. No access to phones either. In desperation I asked, "Can I write?"
Just gave me her address and a permission to be able to write to her.
Just gave me her address and a permission to be able to write to her.
After giving a day for settling down in the routine of the hostel, I promptly penned a small letter to her, I had not even told her my name – so I started with an introduction of myself. Was wondering if I shall hear from her. Even the address was a bit vague – Hostel No. 2, Ranchi Women's College, Ranchi.
Anyway I dropped it in the letter box...
(Did you read the chapter 1 - Episode - click here OR would you like to move on to the next episode Forty Years - Episode - Chapter 4 - then click here)
