GLIMPSES FROM THE PAST: A RAILWAY JOURNEY'

 

The Rail journey:

Our excitement was on a high pitch. Mother, me and my siblings were to travel by a train for the first time. In the evening, I announced to my friends, “Tomorrow, we are going to travel by train to my uncle’s house near Aluva.”  We helped mother in preparing our luggage for the journey.

“Amma, have you forgotten the gift for uncle, aunt and cousins?”

“No, Moorthy, how can I? Yesterday, I have packed them and kept safe. Here they are.”

By the way, you must be wondering about the gifts. They were just some eatables mde by mother. Mysoorpak and kaimurukku. We never purchased any eatables from shops. Father used to say that the oil used could be impure and could have been used several times. “Why should we invite trouble,” he said. Moreover, nothing could beat mother’s preparations. Mother had kept them in airtight steel dabbas.

For a journey by train lasting 6 hours or more, the normal luggage consisted of a metal suitcase (we called it “trunk”), a tiffin carrier, a kooja with a tumbler at its mouth, some spoons and plates. Invariably, an over-lock would be hanging from the clips which kept the trunk closed. There was no baggage having zips. The tiffin carrier made of brass, would be with four containers stalked vertically and kept locked with a frame. The bottom-most container had curd-rice, the next above puliyodarai (tamarind rice), the next one had lemon rice and the top one would contain fried condiments.

On a second thought, mother cancelled tiffin carrier from the list of luggage. Instead, she got a plantain leaf from our backyard, cut it into square pieces, and wormed them over the fire. I saw them becoming dark and soft. They did not tear at all on folding. Then, mother kept the curd rice and sambar rice in several leaves and wrapped them. Then she overlapped them with newspaper pieces, All these packets she kept in a canvas bag and entrusted them to me. The kooja, a brass vessel, spherical in shape, was used to keep water or drinking on the way.

With this luggage, we reached Olavakkot Railway station by 8 a.m. using a bullock cart for our travel. The station has now been renamed as Palakkad Junction. The train to Alwaye present Aluva) was to reach the platform in half-an hour. Father could not join as he was on duty. Mother and my siblings were the passengers. Our excitement could not be described in words. I was looking at the signals fixed at the top of a pillar in the East of the Station. It was at right angles to the pillar. The platform was full with not only passengers and their luggage, but with people who had come to see their relatives off. The platform ticket was priced at just 10 paise. By the way, that was the fare to the next station too.

Soon, a railway employee came out of Station Master’s room and with a hammer, started sounding the circular metal bell fixed near the office. This bell was called “Block”. He waved the green flag to another employee in charge of the signals. The latter responded with a waving of his green signal. Then I could see the signal bending downward. It meant that within a few minutes the train could be sighted.

As I waited, I heard another bell, this time very short, informing the passengers that the train could be “sighted”. Yes, I could see the engine appearing from a cloud of black smoke from its chimney and white steam from below, accompanied by a long whistle. The engine emitted a big sound as it passed. The engine driver, in his black dress, threw down a racquet like frame and ‘snatched’ a similar thing from an employee on the platform from his upheld hand. I know that it contains a code to tell the driver that the rck was clear upto the next halt. The train had just 8 or 9 bogies. We entered a third class bogie. Yes, there were four classes of bogies: First, Second. Inter and Third. The type of bogie would be written in Roman script outside the bogie. Unlike the present day bogies, the bogies of those days were made of wood and did not have a uniform shape. The bogies had four pairs of doors to enter and exit.

The train was a part of the South Indian Railways or SIR. There were other railway companies, like MSM Railway, GIP Railway, Northern Railway etc. I mean, the railways were not nationalized.

Once inside, we found seats to sit together. The seats were wooden benches. Mother asked me if I had the tickets safe. I took them out of my shorts pocket and looked at them – small rectangular cardboards, with the starting station’s and destination’s names engraved on them. There were, of course, other details like the class of travel, the type of train, the distance in miles, the fare and the information about if it was for an adult or child. There was a serial number too, which would help the investigation in case it got lost and you have to prove your innocence. The date of travel was punched by a small machine while purchasing the tickets.

The train was scheduled to halt for 10 minutes at Olavakkot station. An electric bell sounded in the premises to warn the loitering passengers that the train would leave in five minutes.

I kept standing at the window to view the outside scene. The lady pitied me, moved down asked me to occupy the seat by the window. My joy knew no bounds. The train moved, emitting thick black smoke. Mother reminded me not to see the engine side as there was a possibility of a carbon speck entering the eye and injuring it.

At that time, I heard some rhythmic sound from a pair of wooden planks held by a poorly clad girl. While holding the planks, big enough to be held within her hand, she manipulated the sound with her other hand and sang beautifully to a popular Malayalam song. A small boy, accompanying her, collected the coins offered by the passengers.

When the train halted at Ottappalam station, a boy with a crate with 4 bottles of soda got into our bogie and started offering soda for 50 paise each bottle. A lady asked her husband sitting by her side to buy a bottle of soda for her. He told her that he did not have change and the boy would not be able to return the balance. The boy heard this. He told him, “Sir, don’t worry about change. I can give you change for any denomination.” He opened one bottle and gave her and another for him. He took the 50-rupee currency note and told him, “I will get the change from that shop. It won’t take a minute. The train halts for five minutes. Believe me. I am leaving my crate here.”  

He jumped out and I saw him going to the shop and exchanging the note. The couple were relieved and expected him to return to the bogie. But, even after the train started, he was not seen entering the bogie. The couple and me too, waited in vain until the train passed Vallathol Nagar station, where the train did not halt. They now accepted their foolery. It appeared as if the soda crate was laughing at them. The boy was a gainer by a good margin in this episode.

Within an hour, I could see Shoranur Junction Station at a distance. Our train just ignored it and took a diversion towards the Bridge over the Bharathapuzha. When the train entered the bridge, I felt that the train was floating like a plane. I could see nothing below except the vast sands and water. It was because there were no barricades for the tracks. The experience was wonderful.

Now, it was our lunch time. Yes, we in Palakkad, took our lunch early. Mother opened the canvas bag and started distributing the plantain leaf packets to us. She had made a stain with sambar on some packets to know that it contained sambar-rice. It was really a joyful experience to eat inside a moving train, balancing the leaf in one hand and eating the contents with the other. In between, mother gave us water from the kooja to drink. The curd rice with mango pickles tasted much better in the train than at home. Mother collected all the leaves and paper after our eating and threw them together out of the window, to convert them into compost in future. She was happy with whatever was left by us for her lunch. I and my siblings walked to the washbasin balancing ourselves to the motion of the train and washed our hands and faces.

The train  now entered Trichur Station. Now, its spelling is changed to Thrissur. Mother told us that we would be reaching Alwaye in an hour. Rasamama, our uncle would be at the platform to receive us.

All good things have an end. Mother pointed us the Periyar River with a Siva Temple built in the island between two sections of the river. She said, “My children, we are reaching Aluva. Be ready with the luggage and slowly walk to the door. No need to hurry, the train will halt for three minutes. Get down and wait here.” Mother followed us as the train halted at the station. I saw Rasamama at a distance. I waved to him. He came fast and welcomed us.

I waved “Goodbye” to the train as it was leaving the station for its onward journey.

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The Five Rupee Note

I came out of my house with a cloth-bag, mobile, purse etc. for procuring my monthly provisions. I had two options to go to Chembur, other than walking for 15 minutes. I could take a share auto or the bus. Auto charge Rs. 10, but the bus-fare was just Rs. 5, a saving of 50%. Anyway, I kept  a 10-rupee note in my pocket ready.  As I crossed the road, I saw a 379 route bus approaching.

So, I waived away a passing auto and went to the bus-stop to board the bus. My senior-citizen status allowed me to enter the bus from the front. The conductor squeezed himself through the standees and extended his hand to collect my fare. He did not ask for my destination as the fare upto its destination was Rs. 5 only. He collected the note and gave me the ticket and the balance in the form of a 5-rupee currency note. The conductor had immediately vanished to the rear of the bus. I was pleased to get a currency note instead of a coin. Five-rupee notes had become antique nowadays. So I examined it both sides to look for any fault. Oh yes, I tried to call the conductor. I shouted in Hindi, “Please change this note for another one of give a coin. This note has a tear, pasted with cello-tape.” Initially, the conductor did not hear, or pretended so. Again, much to the amusement of the travelers, I called him out. He did not move, or rather could not move from his position due to the crowd. He replied loudly, “Sir, I don’t print notes. Just like I accepted this note from a passenger, you too have to accept it.” There was laughter among the passengers, at my cost.

I folded it and kept it in my pocket. Then I started worrying. “How to spend the note?”

I took the foot-over-bridge and came down to Chembur East side. I was all the time how to spend that five-rupee note. I saw an idli-wada seller busy with his customers. I went to him and asked for two idlis and one wada. He put them on a plate and asked if I wanted chutney or sambar. I chose chutney and asked him to keep it separately. He demanded Rs. 15. I took out a ten-rupee note and the faulty 5-rupee note and gave him. He gave a look at the five-rupee note and asked for another in its place. I told him I didn’t have another. He took the plate from me, removed the wada and returned the plate along with the faulty note. I had to eat the idli which was not needed then and continue to look for another victim.

I went to a stationary mart asked for a cheap ball pen. He put several pieces ad told me, “These will come for Rs. 3/- each.” I selected one and gave him this faulty note.

He examined it and said, “Sorry sir, I can’t accept it.” He pointed to the cello-tape “Please give me another.”

I told him, “I don’t have one. I have only a 100-rupee note!”

“Give that. I will give you change”, he said. I parted with a 100-rupee note and got my balance.

Suddenly it dawned upon me. “Why not try at the bank? I have an SB account at the Inidan Bank Let me try there to get this note exchanged.”

But, alas, the bank had already closed for the day.

Okay, let me purchase some flowers for my wife. No, it is a bad idea. I would have to face a number of penetrating questions for this unusual behavior. It was more than a year since I got her any flowers. I could not think of any method to get rid of the note. I cursed myself and proceeded towards the road to return home. As I reached there, I saw a 379-route bus coming. I rushed to the bus-stop and entered it from the front. There were not many passengers. The driver greeted me, “Oh Saheb! Pahachana? Could you spend that five-rupee note?”

Yes, it was the same bus returning from Ghatkopar. The driver heard the driver’s talk and came near me. The driver joked to the conductor, “You had given him the five-rupee note with the cello-tape pasted on it. You told him you didn’t print the notes, remember?”

The conductor recognized me. He asked, “Bhai sahib, did you spend it or no?”

“I smiled at both and said, “No, No one was accepting it. I am still carrying it with me.”

“No. I couldn’t. I don’t know what to do with it.”

He said, “Where is that note? You also don’t print notes. So, I have to accept whatever note you have. Give it. And here is the ticket.”

I felt very happy and thanked him. I handed over that cello-taped note.

I thanked him profusely and got down.