Train of thoughts

It has been 11 years since I had spent a night on a train. Prior to that, I would have probably done about 28 over a period of 5 years, two of those unreserved.  For those who know how the trains are the lifeline connecting the Eastern parts of India to Vellore, the majority of passengers are patients who revere the more-than-100 year old Christian Medical College as the last thing to turn to for health purposes. They are always full and bustling and tickets need to be purchased well in advance. The Indian Railways would offer us students a generous 50% discount on sleeper class tickets and hence, the best choice. Kalyan at Vijaywada or Palasa, Ajay at Balasore and Bose, Harold, Anandroop and myself to Howrah were the regular team. Planning the trip to going to Katpadi station to book tickets together was a fun thing in itself. Sleeper class meant you could sleep with the window open in three tiered bunk beds. We were either with a constant phobia of slipping off the bed or in complete bliss, ignorant of the rest of the world snoring away at night and sometimes, even during day. If we were lucky for a direct connection from Katpadi to Howrah, we could reach in 28 hours else it could take up to 44 hours with breaks till Durgapur. I have digressed a lot but the reason is, I am going to spend a night on a train after 11 years and the thoughts are random and non-linear.

The Sands of Time had changed places.
Internship allowed lesser leave having to relieve your colleagues, post graduate residency would rather mean catching up on a pending journal scan, fellowship in Paris meant a cheap airline flight to lesser known cities in Scandinavia and working thereafter meant getting back to your hospital because your patients wait list didn't deserve to get longer. 24 hours were now enough to attend an Asia Pacific meeting in Kualalumpur and be back for work at 8 the next morning in Kolkata so 44 hours on train have become a near impossible thought. Most of our conferences and CMEs happen in the metros so a return on the same day becomes feasible. Yet this time, I had been invited for a conference at Patna and a six hour journey from Durgapur by train seemed a smart idea. My wife tried to warn me about the washrooms that could be unpredictable but I was to reach by 5 am so it didn't really matter.

So here I was, planning to spend a night, being gently rocked to sleep in air-conditioning, not by the breeze that could drift in through the window proportionally varying with the speed of the train. The train was late by a pardonable 15 minutes. I found my place for the night as the train chugged on, in a middle berth. I was traveling light so pushed my soft bag at the head end and switched my phone off. I don't appreciate the SAR values on my smartphone near my head at sleep plus a bright screen would only delay sleep in an environment with variously asynchronous snoring sounds. I tried to think of the day that I had had and my child who was probably already asleep without his regular quota of a bedtime story. I was enjoying the familiar swaying and the rattling sounds of the tracks and the continuous din of the AC. I couldn't sleep. Even the blankets had that same mousy odor, I wondered.

Flashbacks and a deep sense of nostalgia kept pushing back even though I badly needed to sleep. I could almost hear Bose announcing that his mum had packed a box of kosha chicken and parathas that were supposed to last us one and a half days. It would be so yum that it wouldn't last us the same number of hours. Or Ajay saying that he needed to stay up because the train would always reach Balasore at 2 in the morning. Maybe Kalyan's dad would have been waiting at Palasa station with a pack of the choicest large cashew nuts from his region. Or Anandroop oblivious and unresentful about any of the nonsense going around us. Or Harold sleeping with his eyes scarily open. That would be different stories around the same plot every time we went home or returned. The journey was the common bit and we were in it together.

It would be hot sultry afternoons and the mineral water bottles would reach the same 45 degrees as the air outside, making them less desirable but still necessary. Andhra Pradesh could be perfect for their thayeer sadam and pickles but completely inappropriate on the afternoon stretch between Vijaywada to Chennai when the Coromandal Express would run 7 hours non-stop. We could neither choose between whether to close the windows or keep them open. We wondered if we could follow suit from our fellow passengers who would wet their gamcha or thin towels and tie them to the window rails to make an effective cooler like system. The gamchas would be dry in like 5 minutes. Anandroop would still not complain. Harold would sometimes be forced by his parents to choose the air-conditioned compartments and we would make the perfecg use of this opportunity. We would saunter past the TT into the cooled compartment where they had curtains to sheild the light as well. We would be searching for our friend when we perfectly well knew his seat number. A little longer in the cooler clime. Finally we would arrive where Harold would be sleeping with his eyes open. Bose would wave and check if he would blink. He wouldn't. Yeringe yeringe..Bose would try mimic a Tamizh broken voiced bus conductor, jolting Harold back to some stupid smiling faces around him.

We had standard stops and we knew exactly what we wanted. Vijaywada Comesum biriyani and fruit juice, Rajahmundry for egg omlette and large guavas, Vizag for it's milk halwas, Cuttack for cheap Puri masala( 8 Puris for 10 bucks) and Kharagpur for chai in earthen cups. That aroma of milk tea soaked in an earthen bhaand meant we were back to Bengal. Bose would certainly celebrate the return and would offer to treat. By then, Ajay and Kalyan would be asleep in their own homes.

Once, Bose and I travelled with only 50 bucks between the two of us for nearly two days. We ate 50/50 salted biscuits or bananas when we were hungry. Remember we needed money for mineral water, whether cooled, room temperature or at 45 degrees for the food could still wait but water needed to be safe. Both of us had surplus adipose reserve so we survived but that story is for another day.

And there were transgenders who would come clapping and demanding money. The tamasha followed even though we would be politely indifferent. I felt bad to be part of a society that could not do enough for them but more irritated because of the antics they resorted to when denied. One of those severely hot afternoons, we woke up to see our fellow passenger seats all occupied by their gang and couldn't feel comfortable to get down from the upper berths although the body deserved a break to the restroom.

And the patients who travelled along with us or an occasionally pretty girl. Out of the 7 wonders of Vellore, one had been the feeling that we were bereft of pretty women. It's a separate issue that many of us found love in that very city, me included. Once Bose got a reason to impress. Harold was already using his accent and mentioning medical terms to give impression to our fellow passenger that we belonged to the impressive medical fraternity at Vellore. She was going to Kolkata as we found out shortly later. Plenty of time to make a lasting impression, I thought. After a while of niceties, the lady in question asked me if I knew Dr Bose's son who was a medical student at Vellore. "And how have you heard of him?" I enquired, knowing Bose already had a handicap. " Dr Bose was my supervisor during my MD in Obstretics and Gynaecology at Kolkata". I sheepishly smiled as Harold happily pointed at the pink-kurta on the upper berth, sleeping. There was no further competing but waiting to burst the bubble when Bose would wake up.

The train came to a halt and I glanced at my watch. 4 hours had passed reminiscing and I had only 2 remaining to reach destination, thankfully the last stop for the train too. I wanted that familiar sleep and my ears all accustomed to the snoring had learnt to ignore.

I closed my eyes as the trained creaked and started off again. I badly wanted to sleep now and hoped of dreaming because the subconscious was so full of it. This time, we would be together again.