For the past twenty one years I have been travelling between Dehradun and New Delhi by the Shatabdi just like many of my friends and colleagues. The train began operating in the year 1994 bringing great relief to people of Doon as it was for the first time that such a comfortable mode of travel was made available to us. It encouraged us to travel more often than we earlier did. In the last two decades, I may have travelled countless times by this train. And met a large variety of people — of all ages, from various States and even several countries. They have added greatly to my experience and knowledge and also to my memories.
During my latest journey by this train, I came across a magician ! So one never knows with whom one will get to share the journey. It is always a surprise. Many long years ago, I happened to meet a German (almost around seven feet tall) and his little son. They were staying for a few months at an ashram in Rishikesh and were travelling back from Delhi. I could communicate with them in English to some extent.
The funniest moment came when the soup and bun were served a little before dinner time. The size of the bun served in this train is quite small (over the years, it has become even smaller) and the moment the little boy saw the bun, he began rolling with laughter, catching his stomach. I looked surprised and asked his father what had triggered off the laughter attack. He told me that the boy was amused greatly by comparing the size of his father with that of the bun! The made us all laugh for a long time. Even now when I recall that scene, I cannot stop laughing. This was a comic incident indeed.
Then there were times when I would discover, while talking to a co-passenger, that we had many mutual friends. This would happen when the co-passenger also belonged to Doon. The train has thus helped me add to the list of my friends.
Once , however, there was a horrifying moment too. I dozed off for a few minutes. When the train halted at Roorkee, my eyes opened and I saw a gentleman picking up my bag and moving towards the door to get down at the station. I screamed and ran after him. What had happened was that my bag was exactly the same as his — green and black — and he mistook it for his own! I was thankful that I woke up just in time to recover my bag.
Then once there was a Vietnamese girl going to Haridwar whose love for English literature brought us close as we discussed our favourite authors and books throughout the journey much to the dismay of some others who could overhear us and also gave us some disapproving looks. But we could not have cared less. Sometimes, one wishes the journey would go on forever and at others one wishes that it ends immediately (depending on the person whom you get talking to). As I always travel alone, I usually end up sitting with another person who is also alone. And this is what brings up the interesting stories that I am sharing with you. People who travel with their families usually remain confined to themselves and miss out on these interesting conversations with strangers who sometimes become good friends.
For those five and half or six hours, people from all walks of life and various communities and religions share a space and it becomes their world for that duration. During this time, each one of them does what best suits him or her. last month, I came across a Punjabi lady, wearing large diamond rings on her fingers and sporting expensive silk and pashmina garments.
Throughout the journey from Dehradun to Delhi, she was trying to call up various relatives and, in chaste Punjabi, trying to sort out certain misunderstandings. Her son was with her, gorging on burgers and Coke that he was carrying in a bag. He seemed least concerned about the mother’s complicated explanations and pleading. I could understand her state of mind and tried to give her a smile or two.
All I can say is that mine has been a great association with this train and I look forward to many more trips that will give me such memorable times to look back at.