A "Special" journey

It was on a fine summer day, several years ago (when I was still in school), my dad, on a sudden burst of courage and enthusiasm, decided to send me from Calcutta to Chennai on my own. It was a time when online booking and IRCTC had not become household names of Indian travellers. After endless hours of standing in long queues in the ticket counters, all he managed to get was a confirmed sleeper class ticket in a train called “Summer Special”. The guy who named the train thus must have been a master satirist as I found out on the day of my travel. The train was nowhere near the S of Special. It was an even more battered version of the original Indian trains, with dimmer lights and I don’t even want to talk about the toilets lest you state visiting this blog as traumatic.

As I boarded the train and was trying to find my seat, I was surprised to find a school friend in the same compartment. We found out that her aunt was travelling to Chennai and she had come just for send off. And her aunt’s seat was right next to mine. My parents were greatly relieved. Many of my father’s relatives and friends had started questioning him on the decision to let me travel alone and my parents had been steadily growing apprehensive as the day of the journey neared. So when they found that my friend’s aunt would be seated next to me, they were elated. They requested her to take care of me, told me that my uncle would be there in the Central Station on next day evening to pick me up and waved good bye as the train started to move.

Episode 1: My friend’s aunt(hereafter referred to as Big A), talked to me for some 5 minutes on something random and then went off to read a magazine. There was a family of three seated opposite to us. A man of about 40+yrs, a woman of around 35 yrs and a boy around 9 – 10 yrs of age. They were speaking in Oriya. After sometime, I got myself engrossed in a book. Big A tried to strike conversations with me and this time I was not interested. So she tried to get the Oriya family talking. Only the man responded and he didn’t sound very friendly. Anyway, later in the evening, I had my dinner and climbed up to the upper berth and continued with my book. It would have been sometime around 8:00PM when the train halted at a big station and the Oriya man bought some food and cold drinks for his family. Half an hour later, his son climbed the other upper berth and went off to sleep almost immediately. His wife was also half asleep. So he requested that we switch off the lights (it was just 9:00PM). Big A wanted the lights on for some more time but he kept on insisting that his wife was not well and so Big A gave in and lights were switched off quite early and we all went off to sleep. The next thing I knew was an ear splitting scream that woke me up. Being a heavy sleeper, I surmised that the screaming must have had gone on for some time before I woke up. I checked my watch and it was past midnight. Lights were on. The Oriya woman was screaming and crying and Big A and few other women were trying to pacify her. Some guys were running here and there in the compartment. The little boy was still sleeping in the berth opposite to mine and few people were shaking him vigorously in a futile attempt to wake him up. The Oriya man was nowhere to be seen. Even as I was watching, the crying woman got up and rushed towards the exit and immediately was brought back to her seat by others. In spite of all this confusion, I was not able to snap out of my sleepiness. So as her crying started to subside and people started to return to their berths, I went off to sleep, resolving to check later with Big A as to what had happened.

Next day I learnt this from Big A: It seems the man was not the Oriya woman’s husband at all. The woman and her son were travelling to their native in Orissa with a cash of Rs 10,000 for her elder daughter’s wedding. Her husband had come to the station to see them off. He seems to have been loudly worrying about the fact that he is sending his wife alone to their village and that too with so much cash. Suddenly the “oriya man” introduces himself, says he is also going to the same village and assures that he will take care of them. Husband happily agrees. Naive wife and son are happy. They can’t speak much Hindi. Once the train starts, this guy tells co passengers that he is her husband. When he bought them food and cold drinks, he had already drugged them. The unsuspecting folks, after having it have fallen into deep sleep. The guy had taken their suitcase with cash and had got down at the next station. When the woman realised that the money is gone, she has attempted suicide by jumping off the train. However, others have woken up and have managed to stop her. (It was at that time that I had woken up and was observing stuff in a sleepy state from my berth). She had actually had only little of the drugged food and that is why had woken up earlier. Her son, on the other hand, had had the entire drugged Frooti and so was not able to get up at all. So finally when their station came, with others’ help both of them had gotten down. Big A told all this animatedly. I was completely struck by the seriousness of the whole thing. It took some time to come back to normalcy.

Episode 2: It was some station in Andhra. A middle aged woman and her daughter (quite tall and stout) boarded the train and occupied the now empty seats opposite to us. I thought the daughter would be something 18 or 19 yrs old, given her build. Anyway, as always, Big A started talking to them in Hindi and English. She learnt that the girl was just 12 yrs old. This amused Big A in a big way. When both of them were looking away, she passed on the info to me and was shaking with laughter. I was also amused but didn’t say anything. But Big A was not good at controlling her amusement and kept on passing some rude comments to me about the girl’s physique. Sometime later, the issue of sharing the lower berth started between Big A and the other woman. This time too, Big A passed some comments to me about the rudeness of the Telegu woman. Suddenly the Telegu woman got up, got hold of Big A’s hair and started hitting her! I was dumbstruck and weakly tried to free Big A from her clutches. “You think I don’t know Tamil?”, the Telegu woman shrieked. “From the minute I got into the train, you have been passing comment after comment as if you own the train”, she continued her high pitched yelling. She was like a wrestling champion and I was of delicate build and could not come out with any heroics to save the day and Big A. She unleashed a torrent of abuse on Big A. She suddenly pointed her finger at me and I cowered. “I am going to register a nuisance case against this woman in the Rajahmundry station and you come down with us and be a witness”, she threatened. Big A was by now sobbing and was trying to put up a mild fight. I felt it was enough. I faced this woman and told that I am not coming anywhere as it was none of my business and then went to find the TTR. Luckily I found one in the same compartment and explained the situation to him. He came to our seats, heard stories from both the sides, sided with the Telegu woman and her daughter, but nevertheless moved them to a different compartment. Big A put up a brave face and told me that she could have single handedly “taken care” of that Telegu woman but had refrained since she had not wanted to stoop so low. Anyway, she became considerably quieter after that and I went back to my book.

We were supposed to reach Chennai at 6:30PM but our train was running late by 7 hours and we reached by 1:30 AM. I didn’t know whether my uncle would be there to pick me up given the untimely arrival of the train (We didn’t carry mobile phones then). Big A got down, found her son waiting for her and just said bye to me and went off without so much of a second glance. I was left standing with my luggage and with the coolies pestering me whether I need their help. I was new to Chennai and was nervous, thinking what I should do if my uncle failed to come. But luckily within minutes, he was there along with a cousin of mine. They asked whether the journey was fine. I gave them a big smile and a big nod and said, “Let’s go”.

After all these years, looking back, it appears to me that, that particular journey was just a trailer for the eventful life I was about to have in Chennai from then on...