If you want to really enjoy a train journey, you need to board an overnight train. Day-trains have a magic of their own, but our attention is divided. We catch a bit of the scenery here, strike a conversation which ends up in a heated debate there and the foodie in us, of course needs to explore every item available at the platform! It is a melange of sorts which just does not allow you to savour the experience in full.
Not so when the train travels through the night. We are truly in the train's lap and alive to every subtle sight and sound that it has to offer. AC compartments insulate us from the outside world and totally deaden the sensation. The second class compartment is the best box office seat that you can get and it is well worth it.
It is therapeutic to lie down on the top berth, sink in the faint blue light with which the entire compartment is bathed and just listen to the clatter of the wheels. The wheels maintain a constant, rhythmic beat which doubles up briefly when the train switches tracks and then returns to the original rhythm. It's just as if Zakir is on the tabla who keeps us interested all the time with sudden twists and turns in the percussion rhythm.
The effect is heightened when the train has "run late" through out the day and needs to "make up" for lost time at night. To borrow a Cricketing metaphor, the batting has smouldered for a major part of the innings for no rhyme or reason, the asking rate has climbed up and now needs some heavy hitting from Yusuf Pathan to get back into the game!
That's when the train cranks up speed and howls through the darkness as if possessed by some demon!
We suddenly lose the plot once more; there is no green signal and the train grinds to a complete halt. Silence takes over. The whirr of the fan above is heard louder than ever as also the clearing of throats from fellow passengers who cannot sleep. The repeated hoots of the engine resemble a wail as it protests and pleads for the signal to turn green so that it can get going. Not so easy. It must wait in the darkness for an eternity. As we press our forehead to the bars of the window, an outline of a small house slowly comes into view. It stands all alone, with pockets of dimly lit windows and some quaint beings who can barely be discerned from this distance.
We wonder what kind of beings stay here, what vocation they are involved in and what aspirations they pursue. It seems so removed from our familiar city world, that we visualize what turns our lives would have taken, had we been part of this household!
The silence is punctured by a shooting whistle and a deafening roar of a train which comes from the opposite direction and in a ten second cracker burst, it has rushed past our train and disappeared into the dead of the night. It is now clear why we've been kept waiting. Silence reigns once more except for the crackle of a cricket outside the compartment.
Our train starts unobtrusively with a little creak here and a squeal there, slowly gathers momentum and gets back to the rhythm of the clatter and rattle. We are back on track.
Not so when the train travels through the night. We are truly in the train's lap and alive to every subtle sight and sound that it has to offer. AC compartments insulate us from the outside world and totally deaden the sensation. The second class compartment is the best box office seat that you can get and it is well worth it.
It is therapeutic to lie down on the top berth, sink in the faint blue light with which the entire compartment is bathed and just listen to the clatter of the wheels. The wheels maintain a constant, rhythmic beat which doubles up briefly when the train switches tracks and then returns to the original rhythm. It's just as if Zakir is on the tabla who keeps us interested all the time with sudden twists and turns in the percussion rhythm.
The effect is heightened when the train has "run late" through out the day and needs to "make up" for lost time at night. To borrow a Cricketing metaphor, the batting has smouldered for a major part of the innings for no rhyme or reason, the asking rate has climbed up and now needs some heavy hitting from Yusuf Pathan to get back into the game!
That's when the train cranks up speed and howls through the darkness as if possessed by some demon!
We suddenly lose the plot once more; there is no green signal and the train grinds to a complete halt. Silence takes over. The whirr of the fan above is heard louder than ever as also the clearing of throats from fellow passengers who cannot sleep. The repeated hoots of the engine resemble a wail as it protests and pleads for the signal to turn green so that it can get going. Not so easy. It must wait in the darkness for an eternity. As we press our forehead to the bars of the window, an outline of a small house slowly comes into view. It stands all alone, with pockets of dimly lit windows and some quaint beings who can barely be discerned from this distance.
We wonder what kind of beings stay here, what vocation they are involved in and what aspirations they pursue. It seems so removed from our familiar city world, that we visualize what turns our lives would have taken, had we been part of this household!
The silence is punctured by a shooting whistle and a deafening roar of a train which comes from the opposite direction and in a ten second cracker burst, it has rushed past our train and disappeared into the dead of the night. It is now clear why we've been kept waiting. Silence reigns once more except for the crackle of a cricket outside the compartment.
Our train starts unobtrusively with a little creak here and a squeal there, slowly gathers momentum and gets back to the rhythm of the clatter and rattle. We are back on track.
After a long time, i traveled recently in 2nd class...and i liked it much more than traveling in AC compartment...i think change is always good.
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