Railway was something I tried my best to avoid for transportation, it wasn’t that I am a snob, but it was a decision I consciously had taken from an experience. I was perhaps twelve years old when I went on my first train ride ,I remember the excitement ;like one would say similar to a young boys on Christmas day, except I am Indian and Christmas doesn’t really appeal to me.
The train was going to Goa, therefore the Goa Express, I wasn’t alone on the Goa express, it had been a school journey of course and a bunch of my friends came along too, baffled in Advance by the beauty and the fun we assured ourselves in Goa; we had orgotten about the most essential part of our journey; the two day ride. When I arrived at the station one fine July afternoon, with temperatures sky rocketing to almost fifty degrees, the teacher with us pointed towards this long filthy bulk of a machine.
The segment of the train appointed to us was appalling, the blue paint that had once been was covered with a layer unique to it, a layer of colour that could only be formed by years of passengers regurgitating on its sides. Perhaps the fact that it was so psychologically long ,cleaning was just impossible to imagine for them. Even as I tried to get accustomed to my Moist, disgusting surroundings, I just could not neglect the ‘chakkas’. huge men with postures of wrestlers dressed in traditional women Clothing; these cross dressers roam the streets and well; simply, scare spineless individuals in emptying their pockets.
Their almost part of Our Indian culture. The fact of the matter is the whole experience drove me away completely from the rickety form of conveyance; the trains. I changed schools many years after that into a more sophisticated one, the reason being my enclosed state of mind and the ignorance to the World I was slowly developing. The new school as such was a complete makeover in the sense of exposure; I was introduced to children with way Too much money in their pockets, with more ignorance than Marry Antoinette when she said ‘if they don’t have bread then just feed them cake’.
Most of them with the exceptions of a few were possessed with the arrogance one would expect from a member of the royal family; nevertheless great individuals. after two years in the school around about a month ago, we, the whole lot of us in our class received a circular for a trip. My first thought was How much money do they want now? Undeniably a reflex thought of most of our students. the circular was more of a mission statement that Stated -the students of DPSI will have to go to mukhetshwar in Uttranchal for exposure.
Our main objective was to introduce a school of village Students to the incredible game of football. Along side this task the tiny slip also stated that, the students would help to make the field of play. Terror had struck . the only thing I could think of was a big cutting tool in my hand and a large field of long grass. I had never truly done any Real work in my life ,probably exactly what the school intended to imply by the word exposure. Our teachers never told us directly, but casually always Try to mention what they thought of us.
Whatever it was they said, always had this constant peculiar tone implying always how they loath brats; perhaps it was this that drove them to such extreme measures. As much as it pained me to be going once again on train I had no choice, the trip was labeled Compulsory by the almighty one herself our principal. Ms Williams was the principal of the tiny school, even though she wasn’t hysically embossing or scary for that matter; she possessed a certain Silent quality that clearly stamped her superiority in the school.
In my recent years visiting her office was starting to become a regular affair, Each time I went though I pleaded innocent, her face would cripple a notch at a time with irritation. I realized the only way out of the journey was to visit her once again and face the storm that I had been provoking, therefore instead I chose self preservation. Our departure from Delhi was at 10:30 pm, but since it was a school ordeal e had to report at school at 7:00pm so that we could be shepherded along properly.
I as usual was the first person at school, even before the school teachers. It was my first time in school at this hour and I was alone as well ,it almost felt like I came to do something illegal. After waiting peacefully for about a half hour long a majority of them finally appeared. The best part of every road trip I believe is in the absolute beginning, that point where the thought of the fun ending seems farfetched and too far down the line. We were living in those moments, I felt like a crazy all of energy, waiting for my opportunity to explode.
The school sent with us four teachers ,surprisingly in that ratio only because they viewed all fifteen of us as potential trouble all the time. From the looks on their faces I could smell fear, they obviously knew their powers had no effect outside the school premises. We all entered the bus ,and after exactly forty five minutes of meaningless banter we reached old Delhi Railway station. One of the busiest stations in Delhi. Another reason why I never enjoyed trains as much was because of the crowd nd pace .
On our way to the platform as I pushed my way through the crowd I saw this child; the child must have been about four or five, she was crying and shrieking for her mother, that she must have got separated from. A common sight of the Delhi rails. I was well accustomed to observing tragedy, Delhi sadly had a lot of beggars. Not too long after that, the much awaited train came to a halt right before us. One of the individuals of programme Sameer ,who also accompanied us directed us to our individual seats for the real beginning of our voyage.
