Mythical Express

TRAIN names fascinate me. Though not as fast, convenient or punctual as trains in the west, our trains bear more attractive names than The Blue Train, The Bullet Train or the Orient Express of the west. Compare these with our Matsyagand Express, Black Diamond Express or the Him Ganga Express. They win hands down.

That was why I was keen on travelling by the Mumbai- Thiruvananthapuram "Netravati Express" and break a jinx associated with it. A couple of months ago, we had missed out travelling on this train for a much-awaited holiday at Munnar in Kerala, because I got confused over the starting time of the train and made enquiries about it after the train had actually left Mumbai. Since I am very careful with train timings, I attributed this mishap to a jinx.

The jinx continued when I made bookings once again in the second week of July for a short trip to Thrissur to attend the marriage of my nephew Venkataraghavan (Nandu). Because of a bridge mishap near Kozhikode, the train would not run on the Konkan Railway but was to take a much longer route. A day before our trip, it began to rain heavily, the railway tracks were flooded and our trip was in jeopardy. Repeated enquiries to railway authorities informed me that the elusive Netravati would finally start at 4.30 p.m., a delay of five hours.

But that was only the beginning of our troubles. We waited patiently at the Lokmanya Tilak Terminus (LTT) at Kurla from 3 p.m., but there was no sign of the train. The approaches to the station were flooded. The LTT is an orphan child of the Central Railway, it had no decent waiting rooms and the platforms stank of rotting fish. After a wait of around two hours, there was an announcement that the Netravati had gone to the Yard for some repairs and would start from platform 2. The announcer, rather diplomatically, did not mention the starting time.

Indian Railway passengers must be the most patient, tolerant lot in the world. Families with dozens of children and mountains of luggage, waited patiently. Since all the seats on the platforms were occupied, we stood patiently, switching the body weight from one leg to another. This was how the ancient sages must have performed their tapas, I told myself, though in our case, no divine help or boons were forthcoming. I was certain that our jinx with the Netravati Express continued and I told my sister that we would wait till 7 p.m. and then go home. Of course, that would be a violation of the true Tamilian spirit of mun vaitha kalai pin vaikkadhe. This, however, did not apply to endless hours of waiting at stinking railway platforms.

But the jinx was broken because the Netravati sneaked into the platform at 6.55 p.m., and our journey commenced. I do not know much about the exact speed of our "Express" trains, but "Netravati" showed no hurry and ambled along, stopping often between stations. As a result, we spent nearly four days on train travel but only a day and a half at Thrissur and then Ernakulam. With only 16 passengers in the two-tier AC coach, the water in the toilet still ran out because a couple of Malayalee families, who had brought two huge tiffin sets full of food, washed all their utensils in the sink, exhausting all the water. I am now waiting for passengers to wash their clothes and dry them inside the compartments. Mark my words, this will happen one day. Once in the company of friends and relatives in Thrissur, these troubles vanished. Kerala desperately wanted tourists, but the local Yatri Nivas run by the State Tourism Development Corporation did not provide guests with blankets. The weather was chilly, mosquitoes were in plenty, but no blankets. At the marriage hall, the atmosphhere was relaxed. Almost everyone was a reader of The Hindu. The bride's relatives, who were familiar with the "Slice of Life" column and the high praise which I had lavished on paruppu sadam in a recent write-up, posted a helpful lady near my dining table so that I was served with a generous helping of paruppu (dal). It was a thoughtful gesture and indicated the power of the written word. A gentleman among the guests who had lived in Ahmedabad in 1970 profusely thanked me for an article which I had written in the Times of India, Ahmedabad, where I worked as a reporter during that period. The article had praised a music concert of his daughters. I had forgotten everything about it, but it was nice that a 31-year-old article was still remembered. Yes, time indeed flies. My nephew Nandu, the bridegroom, during one of our earlier visits to his home in Peechi near Thrissur, had just returned from his boarding school in Coonoor. He had always been studious, I found him poring over a notebook on the very first day of his long vacation. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Just writing from 1 to 10,000," he replied. "This is my hobby." Phew, I told myself, this kid will go far. Today, he is an IIT (Chennai) and IIM (Ahmedabad) graduate who opted to stay back home and work for the State Bank of India. The wedding went off smoothly. No sambandhi sandai but only a vadhyar sandai. The head vadhyar from the bridegroom's side who was in charge, was ousted in a bloodless coup by the head vadhyar from the side of the bride. The winner claimed local customs favoured him and the first vadhyar who was threatening to stage a walk-out was mollifed by a bit of money power. Once the wedding was over and an improbably early lunch finished, we boarded a passenger train. To my pleasant surprise, it ran faster than the Netravati and dropped us at Ernakulam after only 75 minutes. My eldest sister at Kochi celebrated our arrival with some delicious "Cannon balls" locally known as Uppuma kozhukottai. We had always referred to these as Vedi urundai though they were mild in taste.

The next day, it was back on the Netravati Expess and another long journey. General Musharraf was meeting the Prime Minister in Agra but the summit created no rippples in enlightened Kerala. Back in Mumbai, we avoided the stinking LTT by getting down at Thane and catching a local train. The Netravati myth was finally shattered, but I don't think I will ever board a train from the Kurla terminus.

V. GANGADHAR

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