Train journeys in the past
K S S Pillai
There used to be a time when people would eagerly look forward to the presentation of the railway budget in the Lok Sabha by the railway minister ahead of the general budget. It would announce changes in the fare structure, introduction of new trains (usually from the constituency of the minister), extension and speeding up of trains, construction of new railway lines, and several such steps. The government has stopped the practice and made matters concerning the railways a part of the general budget.
Once a government-owned transport system, changes are taking place in the Indian railways. The government seems to believe that its business is to concentrate on governing the country and not worrying about matters like managing hotels, or running trains.
As a part of the PPP (Public-Private-Participation), private players are being allowed to run passenger trains, who would decide the fare, assure punctuality and provide aircraft-like comforts inside the trains.
That reminds me of my train journeys in the 1960s. I was in South Gujarat, and a trip to the nearest railway station to my hometown in Kerala used to take four days. It involved changing trains at three places: Bombay, Arkonam, and Cochin (now renamed Mumbai, Arakkonam, and Kochi, respectively).
Since the connecting train from Madras (now Chennai) was to arrive at Arkonam junction after about three hours, I used to have a bath at the station before taking a stroll outside and doing a little shopping.
Most of the long-distance passenger trains had three classes: first, second, and third. Only the first two had cushioned seats and berths. The third class compartments were always crowded. At stations where trains originated, porters were ready to help, for a price, those who wanted seats. They would take the passenger to the railway yard, where the train was parked, and ‘reserve’ his seat by placing a towel on it.
Since the windows had no bars, they were also used as entry and exit points by lithe passengers. Luggage was carried in steel trunks that doubled as seats when needed. The lucky ones who got seats used to have sore bottoms by the end of the journey. Despite the compartment being crammed, the innovative passengers used to find space for playing cards to while away time. Neither was overcrowding any deterrent to beggars and peddlers. At night, one used to sleep on the floor, squeezed among other passengers.
Bottled water was unheard of, and passengers would rush towards taps to fill their bottles or small earthen pots at major stations. There used to be ‘meal stations’ where the trains would halt for a longer period, and passengers could have their meals in the dining hall. Warning bells would be sounded well before the train resumed its journey so that the diners could go back to their compartments in time.
As soon as the train entered Kerala, I would rush to the tea-shops at the station and grab dishes that were indigenous to the state. Looking at people in native attire, and buildings with thatched or tiled roofs outside, would wipe away all the tedium of the journey. Since there were no ‘Kerala stores’ outside the state, one would always carry items like home-made hair oil, coconut chutney powder, particular brands of bathing soaps, dhoties, thin bath towels called ‘thorthu’, and such items during the return journey.
As the trains had coal-fired steam engines, the body and clothes of passengers would turn black with coal dust by the end of the journey. One offshoot of the journeys was that total strangers would become lifelong friends by the time the journey ended.
(The author is a retired professor of English. Apart from the Kashmir Vision, his articles and short stories have been published by various national and international publications)
