My Train Tales - Chapter Uno (By Rachna Rajesh...aka Emoji Queen)

Sir / madam,
I beg to state my grouse...it's deep; it's poignant; and it touches this raw nerve.

Puttindies has been eulogising his days at REC, Rourkela. He talks about encounters with seniors; merry shoe flinging tales of AV hall; exotic hangouts like Back Post,  gourmet snacks from Keshtu, etc etc.

This is where I shall introduce myself and my clan, the female illuminati classmates of Puttindies.

We were extant right there, in the same sphere of influence!!
But, did we get to drink aqueous tea out of Keshtu's tumblers cleaned in a dirty vessel of slop?

Did we get to savour singada babu snacks from tattered, grimy, old card board boxes?

Did we get to fling our sandals on the AV hall screen and get to take away different ones of our choice?


No sir / madam (here, the very discerning folks may notice my gender neutrality).

We were the poor country cousins...the fair gender victimised by unfair patriarchy.

I am worked up now and  will stage a walkout here, on behalf of my clan.

On second thoughts, I am back as I couldn't find anywhere to go and there are mosquitoes outside. Let me settle down a while  and relate an anecdote from our unsung, yet profound lives.

The scene is of our embarking on a train journey to Bangalore for the second year summer training. There were four of us - Balram, Nikester, Phani and I (names changed to respect privacy ), from chemical.

Balram's dad -  a professor in REC - had kindly arranged our summer training in KSDL, Bangalore.

My dad, in railways, had got our train reservations done. And there we were collected, the four of us, at the railway station on the D Day.

Students from outside Rourkela, might be familiar with the railway platform scene when the summer holidays started for REC. We weren't . I may have forgotten to mention above - we were day scholars. We were stupefied at the scene of something akin to a mass exodus happening . The students had turned up in droves .. some to go home for vacations, some for training , some to see others off and yet some more  to just hang around and be in the thick of action..

As the infamous Bokaro Madras express chugged in, we were swamped and pushed back  by the students, hurtling themselves into the coaches.Even as we teetered on our feet, we could see our coach getting  filled up in no time.

This is where my mom swooped into action . You may not know much about my mom, and it's imperative that I give you a quick preamble. She was a lecturer in the woman's college of Rourkela , had a stentorian and commanding voice and was used to taking charge of students.

In a matter of minutes, she ordered us into the bogie and got the coolies to lug our huge suitcases in. She directed us to locate our reserved berths, bellowing ," check your tickets , check your tickets , check your tickets , check your tickets". We were four - did I mention?

And while all this was taking place, the hitherto spirited REC boys in the coach seem to lose their swag, huddling and pushing back against each other, bemused and non plussed at the phenomena unfolding ..

By and by , a third year boy gathered his wits and came forward with a winning smile.
" Arre Aunty , please don't worry about the girls , they are our responsibility, hum haina " he said.

Mom looked at him sternly, his smile wavered, then steely resolve won and the smile became emphatic. Satisfied, mom nodded and said ," Beta, pehli baar akele travel kar rahe hain bachche, dhyaan rakhna, kisi station pe utar na jaayen".

The third year boy gave us a fatherly glance (will be referred to as 'Father' hence), nodded reassuringly, and gently tried ushering mom out, saying, "Aunty seeti baj gayi hai, aap utar jaayiye ". Finally mom acquiesced, gave us a tight hug and got off wagging her finger imperiously at us, " you have four reserved berths".

The train pulled off, and there we were - the four of us, rooted to our initial spot with our suitcases, out of our depths in the milieu, waiting politely for our reserved berths to materialise .

As we stood there, we became aware of the gazes...some brooding; some contemplative; some measuring...

The boys ranged around us in various positions of rest and unrest like an endless sea of inmates. Some of them seemed pretty settled already , as they lounged alone or piled up against  each other. Some were perched on the upper berths with their legs dangling . Yet others languished in seat corners against windowpanes .
Before we could get unnerved further, the Father got into swift action.

There was a flurry of activity as he directed his coterie and our luggage was secured in vacant spots under the berths .Two middle berths were vacated generously. The Father gave us a once-over with a kindly eye, then directed Balram and Nikester to one berth, and Phani and me to the other.

The fearless insurgent in me  woke up and mumbled, " But ..but.. we have four reserved berths..". The Father gave an indulgent bark of laughter , patted my head and said , "Silly .."

Without much ado, we meekly climbed onto our respective berths. We took time to settle down and soon figured out that even to turn in sleep , the other had to turn in tandem to accomplish that manoeuvre.

They say difficulty builds character. We woke up with so much character the next day that we were amazed at having been so characterless in the past.

This is where I'll end the deeply moving episode and go and have a cup of coffee.

Interested in reading my other blogs?

How about my ode to old Hindi film music? Which is here --> THE GOLDEN AGE OF HINDI FILM MUSIC.

The first episode is HERE.

Or my eulogy to one of the greatest playback singers of India? SP BALASUBRAHMANYAM.