Tracking a century

Everybody loves a good century, what with our master-blasters Sachin and Saurav having blazed their way to glory in the recent World Cup cri...

Everybody loves a good century, what with our master-blasters Sachin and Saurav having blazed their way to glory in the recent World Cup cricket tournament. There are other kinds of centuries, too. For instance, society honours people who’ve completed 100 years of existence. Well, I scored a century, recently, but of a different kind—or, rather, on a different track. During an official trip to Vijayawada, I completed my 100th train journey.

The earliest train journey I remember was the one I undertook in the sixties. It was as thrilling experience, and that same thrill remains to this day. Hurtling at high speeds in the comfort of well-appointed coaches, I just love watching the ever-changing landscape of our beautiful country — lush green fields, rivers and streams, mountains, and so on.

I marvel at the contrast between the crowded junction and the small forlorn wayside station. I tuck into a whole range of gastronomic fare that is on offer. And then I like to get to know the different people who happen to be my co-passengers, although the acquaintance may end with the journey.

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The most memorable journey I had undertaken was from Mettupalayam to Ooty — a slow, uphill trip which enabled me to observe nature in all its enchanting glory. And then there was this Cochin-Bhilai trip some years ago which afforded a practical joke. The journey entailed a change of trains at Nagpur around 9pm and I had no onward reservation. Desperate to get a berth, I tried to impress upon the TTE that I was a journalist in my broken Hindi: ‘‘I am from the Indian Express,’’ I said. The harassed TTE responded: ‘‘You may come from any Express but what can I do? If there is a berth, I could have given it to you; if there isn’t one, there isn’t one.’’

Like other passengers I, too, have had my travel travails. In the old days, these include soot/coal-coated clothes and tiring journeys in rickety carriages. But some of the old irritants remain with us to this day. Standing in queues for reservations, for instance. Or inexplicable delays. Or the fact that unauthorised persons and unlicensed hawkers still crowd into reserved coaches. Or, of course, toilets without water.

But, luckily, I have always had a safe journey, so far. The trains I’ve travelled in have not got derailed or been attacked by dacoits. I have always reached my destination with my limbs intact and with my purse in my pocket.

Truly, there’s nothing stopping me from boarding a train—apart from time and financial limitations. As a child, I remember, the family could travel frequently because my father was a railway employee and got free passes. Now, alas, I have to pay for personal trips. Then, again, where is the time? It’s not easy to get leave. If I did not have these constraints to contend with, I promise you I would have been celebrating a double century today!