Train-ing Days (My College Trip)

I was reading something about trains on one of the blogs I follow and it reminded me of the few memorable train journeys I have undertaken in my life. Here's an account of the most memorable one I have had so far:

It was the year 2001. A teacher in a college in Bishnupur, Shillong was having a discussion with the BSc. IInd year students about a study tour and where they would like to go. Several names popped up; some quite far-fetched, considering the budget constraint. The students feared they would end up going to the neighbouring state like the batch before them. Most had not even ventured out of the small state so they wanted to make the most of the opportunity and travel far and wide. Few places were short-listed. Andaman was the most exciting among them. As days passed and teachers were having meetings among themselves and with the principal, the signs of a neighbouring visit seemed more and more evident. Then one day the teacher came in and announced that the principal has finally agreed. However, Andaman has been ruled out. The students were disappointed to hear this. Then she added, we are going to Chennai and Bangalore. Everyone cheered up. But there was a tiny problem - instead of the earlier amount the students would now have to dish out Rs 3500-4000 each. After talking among themselves they all agreed to it.

Soon followed a journey which is etched in my memory and which has become a milestone of my growing up years.

We went on a sleeper class reservation and it took us a little over fifty hours to reach Chennai. After spending two days in Chennai we headed for Bangalore and reached there at night. The following night we were on our way back to Guwahati. It was a study trip in principle but in actuality it was anything but that. We went on tours in both the cities, visiting all the tourist hotspots. Luckily for us some of them had affinity with our purpose of visit as well. Like the time when we went to see the zoological park (since the trip was organised by the Zoology Department) or when we visited the science museum.

The first thing that got us super-excited was when we, for the first time in out lives, saw a beach. One of the many reasons why we were so charged up about the trip to begin with. We visited two beached in Chennai - Golden beach, which was part of a theme park and the famous Marina beach. We ran to the shore, getting our feet soaked in the water, running after the waves, splashing water at each other. We took lots and lots of photographs. There were very few people at the Golden beach. The reason might be that entry is not free or because it was a hot afternoon when we went there or maybe both. But Marina beach was full of people, from families on an outing to couples walking together, from groups of friends chilling out to health-conscious joggers.

The tides were much higher at the Marina beach. It was intimidating. Only few people were in the water. Most were, like us, standing far behind waiting on the wave to hit the shore. There was an empty coconut shell floating on the water. It found its way to the shore and soon enough an impromptu football match began. Our teachers joined in as well. It was surprising to see ma'am M.K.K. and J.D. in such spirit. We couldn't picture them to be fun at all from what we knew of them in the classroom. It was a welcome change and we had a great time playing together.

But the most fun had to be the train journey. The train became our world for a few days and we were living it up in there - visiting each other's compartments like neighbours, striking up conversations with fellow travellers, singing and playing card games together or just looking out the window watching the world outside as we pass them by. We still talk about the time when someone found a cockroach in her egg curry and swore off the train food. Or even the time when us boys were running for cover when news about eunuchs boarding the train reached us. It wasn't new to me since I had gone on a train journey but my friend was terrified by the idea and covered himself from head to toe in a blanket on the upper berth. I was hiding on the berth opposite him. It was hilarious to see him holding on to his blanket and pulling his legs in when one of them grabbed him by the feet. Ultimately they gave up and went around for some other targets. We have a great laugh about it whenever the topic comes up.

On the last day of our trip in Bangalore while riding back to the youth hostel, we were at first laughing and singing along with the music. By the time we were just few minutes away from the hostel, there was a silence in the bus. Most of us were staring out the window, a sense of melancholy taking over us.

That night we all had our dinner together at the hostel mess. All the seats around the long rectangular table were occupied. Somebody aptly remarked that it felt like it was our own 'last supper'.

It's been years since the trip. Since then, life has led us to many different places. Most of us have lost in touch with each other, only few still remain known to me to this day. Others grew far apart in time and in distance. As I think about the trip now, recalling and reliving those moments, I can't help but wonder somebody somewhere else might just be remembering those fun times as well.

Rain: Return Of An Old Friend

When it used to rain before, we would not know. We lived in a concrete building and if we were inside our rooms with the curtains pulled down on the windows we would not know when it rained. So, most of the times the clothes hung outside to dry would have to wait a long while getting soaked all over again. And we missed several opportunities of playing in the rain because we would not be able to hear it fall. The paper boats were saved from drowning in the make-believe river of the backyard drain, sailing through a heavy stormy weather. The dry and recently washed clothes we worn would take a heavy sigh of relief every time we missed the rain. Having been soaked for hours in cold/hot water then being beaten about on the cemented floor and hung out to dry, they favoured being warm in the closet and feared being worn by us. They dreaded the moment someone opened the closet, praying hard they were not picked. Some had tough luck, becoming our favourites, we would wear them umpteen times till they turned pale and their threads came loose. They had to undergo stitches several times and would always end up getting dirt-faced. They feared rain the most and so it was a matter of great relief when we missed the rain. They hated being damp and wet.

Then we moved to a tin-roofed house and even a slight drizzle would alarm us. We were out and about in an instant gauging the rain and if it wasn’t too heavy we would leave the clothes be. If it rained heavy, we would free them from the clutches of the clips and gather them all inside. In a really heavy downpour most of the clothes would end up getting wet no matter how quick we were. We would in turn get wet as well. It would not stop us from venturing out onto the verandah to feel the rain fall on our palms and if we were game enough, we would get all soaked, dancing in the rain. Sometimes in our excitement we would forget about the slices of radish or pieces of amla left to dry atop the roof and they would spitefully turn out to be not-so-good achaar once they were dried up, spiced up and bottled up.

However, for most part they were all happy, the clothes and everything else since we lived under a tin-roof. The problem was with us because we would start thinking it was raining on hearing the slightest of sounds resembling the rain.

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We did not resist the rain then. We took it as it came. No great surprise or worry succeeded it. Then the inevitable happened. We all grew up and the excitement of the rain slowly faded away with the years we added to our lives. We ran from the rain most of the times – running for a dry shelter and even if the shelter was long way away and we were bound to get wet, we'd still keep running, shielding ourselves with a notebook or a plastic bag or even a handkerchief! Oh! We really didn’t like the rain I guess. At least that was what the rain felt, who had just dropped by to give us a childhood greeting. But we were growing up or already grown up and forgot about our childhood friend.

Years later when most things had changed and I yearned for something old and something familiar, something to help me retain or regain the lost days of the yore, I found I had lost most of it to the heat of life. Pretty soon I realized I had lost so much more than a few rainy days or fun-plays in the sun. Then in the evening of a rather warm day it rained, first slow then heavily. I did not resist it. I soaked myself in it, reveling in the memories of all the days lost and gone, shedding tears for all those lost and gone and smiling in the return of a childhood friend who gave me warmth in his wet embrace. I do not resist the rain anymore.