Two Cheers for Trains - Part 1
Embark on a nostalgic journey through the memories and adventures of trains, where personal anecdotes and historical insights converge to celebrate the enduring allure of rail travel.
In his writings on the strengths and weaknesses of democracy, E.M. Forster raised two cheers for democracy. He would not raise a third cheer because of its defects or weaknesses. I could, likewise, raise two cheers for trains.
Trains have fascinated me right from my childhood. On a long train journey, I would spend hours looking out the window and wondering how the train smoothly glides across ground discontinuities, apparently immune to pits and bumps, changing tracks, crossing rivers on invisible bridges and ending up on a platform for rest. When I learned about distances and speeds, my father showed me how, while window gazing, I could estimate the speed of my train by counting telegraph poles. And for the duration of my experiment, he loaned me his precious Omega pocket watch. Looking back, I find many occasions when trains enriched my life! Here are some accounts that I recall and some that may be apocryphal.
The Tale of a Photograph
The photograph on this page, showing a formally dressed senior gentleman holding a baby, was taken on the main platform of Varanasi (then known as Benares) Cantonment Railway Station. The distinguished personality in the picture was Sir Raghunath P. Paranjpye, who was then Vice Chancellor of Lucknow University. The baby was yours truly! Sir Raghunath first hit the headlines when he became Senior Wrangler at Cambridge, a distinction achieved for the first time by an Indian student. The word 'wrangler' described a student of mathematics who attained First Class in the Mathematical Tripos, considered the most difficult examination in Cambridge. A 'senior wrangler' was one who topped the list of wranglers.
Because of this achievement, Sir Raghunath was referred to in public life as "Wrangler Paranjpye." After his triumph in Cambridge, he resided in India, becoming a maths professor, college principal, vice chancellor, member of state legislature, …, retiring as India's High Commissioner to Australia. Because of his eminence in public life, Wrangler Paranjpye was highly respected even amongst his friends and relations. My father, for example, was a distinguished academician and had a brilliant career as a student at Cambridge. Known for his righteous views and scholarship, he was often consulted on various issues. But he, too, looked upon Wrangler Paranjpye as an idol. So when it was decided that on his visit to Benares, Wrangler Paranjpye would be his house guest, my father was all tensed up! He kept issuing various edicts on good behaviour to ensure that his VIP guest did not encounter any problem.
Known as "Tai," my mother, being the hostess, was the primary recipient of these "do's" and "don'ts". So, she was prepared to receive a formal guest known for strict discipline and code of conduct. But she found him to be polite and courteous, often admiring the domestic arrangements. Why was my father so nervous about this soft-speaking gentleman? For example, she wanted to take a photograph of me with the VIP, but my father had vetoed it on the grounds that it would bother him.
So, the ordeal of entertaining a VIP guest drew to a close without a photograph. On the day of the departure, my father hired a taxi to go to the Cantonment Railway Station. There was still about half an hour to the train's scheduled departure time. Knowing the unreliability of trains in the North compared to those in the Mumbai-Pune sector, my father decided to find the expected departure time. This necessitated a visit to the Station Master's office. Accordingly, he asked us to wait on the platform while he went to the office. As his retreating figure disappeared from view, Tai had the opportunity she was hoping for. She approached Wrangler Paranjpye and asked his permission for the photograph. He readily agreed. But there was a difficulty. Who would hold me? Tai would have done it, but then who would take the photograph? Amongst those present, she dared not find a person around whom she could trust, as none would have handled a camera. Here, Wrangler Paranjpye came to the rescue. "Give me the baby to hold!" he added: "I have been grandfather long enough." So the photograph was taken. Everything was back to normal well before the nervous father returned. He did not know about Tai's violation of his prescribed code of conduct until he saw the print. "How did you manage that?" he asked in great surprise. A smile was all he got by way of reply.
Adventure on the Varanasi Express
About four decades later, I was again on the same platform. The railway station had been renamed Varanasi Cantonment since the name of the city had changed. I was talking to a family friend, Ram Suchit Pandey, from my Benares days. He recalled the times when I travelled from Benares to Bombay by the Calcutta Bombay Mail. "Sir, why did you not travel this time by that train? It still runs on the same timetable." I explained that in those days, there was no direct train from Benares to Bombay, and the only option was to board Bombay Mail, for which one had to go to Moghalsarai, which was some 20-odd km away, early in the morning. Since then, Indian Railways has introduced the direct train Varanasi Express, departing at a convenient hour during mid-morning. On this occasion, I was traveling with a party of about 6-7 scientists from the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research. We were returning to Bombay after a symposium on space sciences. As scientists, we were bound to make a logical decision. Ram Suchit heard me out with his usual politeness. He then asked, "Sir, do you know the date today?" I was surprised at this change of gears in the argument, as I replied: "It is the 26th of January…but why are you asking?" He then explained that being the Republic Day, the residents of that part of the state of Uttar Pradesh, liked to celebrate it. "So, today, this train may not be punctual." Having experienced a three-hour delay on my way to this city, this did not cause me any problems. But why should the Republic Day matter?
Anyway, while I was thinking about the matter, the train rolled in. Our group took up our assigned berths, and I was relieved to see the train departing at the scheduled time. Well begun is half done. What was Ram Suchit worried about? I was soon to find out. For some fifteen minutes, the train accelerated and then settled down to good speed, and my colleagues and I brought out reading matter. But very soon, it slowed to a halt. There seemed to be some commotion, and we could see small crowds entering the train. Although the train had been moderately full when starting the journey, now it was packed to capacity with some spillage into the corridors. The train started again, but not for long. In fact, it passed through a stop-go pattern, collecting more of these unofficial passengers. Soon, the corridors were also saturated, and bumps on the ceiling indicated that the latecomers were making themselves comfortable on the roof. This stop-go mode slowed the train further, and by the time it came to its official stop at Janghai junction, it was two hours late. The optimists amongst us still felt that the train hereon would make up for the time lost. However, nothing like that was indicated by the (lack of) activity on the platform. Nobody seemed to know! Finally, the tea vendor on the platform informed us that we were waiting for the driver to turn up. Apparently, he had gone home as he had no instructions for action. He had now been asked to show up for duty, and had confirmed that he was on his way. As the tea vendor assured us, the railway housing colony was half a mile from the railway station, and so he should arrive shortly. That 'shortly' finally happened, and we felt the train moving! But our delay meant our train lost priority on the single track to Allahabad. Some of us tried to estimate the time we would reach Allahabad. Already, we were some four hours late.
At this stage, our co-passenger from Japan politely asked how fast the express train was expected to go. Knowing how fast Japanese bullet trains go, we replied: "Not as fast as yours. The critical average speed for our superfast trains is 55 km per hour." But while we were discussing the space and time problems of Indian railways, I was interested to note that
Sreekantan, the Director of Tata Institute, was quiet. "How can you be so peaceful in the midst of this pandemonium?" we asked. He smiled and pointed to the book he was reading. It was a Russian novel describing the hardship of prisoners in Siberia. Was our plight any different? From Janghai to Allahabad, the 'unofficial' passengers began to leave. The standard procedure for this was chain pulling, jumping out or jumping down, depending on where the jumping jack was located. On the train route, there was a long series of sugarcane farms. Our unofficial members stopped the train and helped themselves to ripe sugarcanes. By now, we were used to such interruptions. They were part of the Republic Day celebrations!
There was a minor incident before we reached Allahabad about eight hours late. One of my colleagues, Roy Daniel, was expecting his son staying in Allahabad to come and meet him at the train station. The train came to a halt at a station named 'Prayag.' Prayag was the name of the city in early times when it was founded on the confluence of rivers Ganges and Yamuna. Later, Muslim rulers changed the name to 'Allahabad.' Roy naturally assumed that Prayag was Allahabad and got down from the train at Prayag station and looked for his son at the platform. He could not find him and was wondering why. And the train started moving. He was alerted and managed to get back in time.
Our real stop was at Allahabad, and I am glad to record that Roy's son did show up there. But our main query remained: When was this train reaching Bombay? We had given up speculating on the future but were in for a pleasant surprise. At Allahabad, the management of the train changed, and the rest of our journey to Bombay went smoothly. The train, in fact, made up two hours of lost time.
Dear Uncle, Loved reading your Blog and what an incredible story. Please keep writing! You have a gift for this.
Had much fun reading the story and seeing the photograph! 🙏😊