Love in the time of Railways

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For a long time (really long) in my life, I had never seen the insides of a train. Totally devoid of the experiences of the world within the world of which I caught a glimpse through the crowded-platforms. Now when I avail the services of the Indian Railways, I am mostly fascinated. Every journey- irrespective of the hours spent in the dabba is distinct. All that remains constant is the set within a set found in the trains.

Continental-seeking: This tribe is pained to witness the phenomenon of missing continental cuisine in the train. And when the railway worker politely laughs the request away, he is taught the history lessons (even i did not get the relation). The worker still keeps the bewildered smile.

Know-it-all: Brace yourselves for this species. "After all they have experienced the world, already" and you still are immature. After evaluating you from your sex to the profession, they do not fail to pass judgments. No, don't dare argue with them or you will have be taught the sacred lessons of morality.

Mom away from home: Almost missed the train and hence no food supplies for the night or you just don't have the appetite! Dont worry in either case iff you are lucky, you will get the food- home cooked poori and aloo ki sabzi. Showering motherly love the aunty won't be able to see your loneliness. Her heart will melt and even if you dont want to, you would have to "accompany" them.

X-Ray machines: Cliché but nothing else would justify their activities. Right from the time you boarded your train to the point their eyes shut because the massive hard work involve, they will scan you. And no, not just the men but women have a busy day at work too.

Phénku: They were created for entertainment, to ensure that you keep half-a-mile smile right through the journey.  They will be full of interesting tales. Tales you have always heard before-just from another pheku. From ghosts to famous people, they have seen them all.

The Nerd: My favorite people. They won't bother anyone. Umm or
maybe they would. But to those only  who want to prematurely doze off . This is because you see they are accompanied by this interesting novel whose suspense-drama has killed their sleep cells ( are there any sleep cells?)

And the last who may or may not be a subset of the above sets is the "in-love" couples! They are still the same: lovey-dovey! Even when the world sleeps, they are busy because of things they best know of!

The enveloped memoirs

   That day was just any other normal day. But, only for me. That day, I was too young to comprehend the real connotation of the cream coloured envelope that had been delivered in person by an elderly man. On a black and gray Hero cycle, the man in khaki carried a cross body bag. The bag was stashed with infinite white, cream and blue coloured envelopes.  Mom told me that the man was called a postman. He had come to deliver my first ever telegram. In an Instant, all the descriptions of the ‘daakiya’ that dwelled in those kindergarten books breathed life.

      This first-ever telegram was special. It carried news about my admission in a prestigious school of the city. Of course, for my parents who had left behind everything in their ancestral village to start afresh in the new city, the telegram was the source of extreme happiness. Time and again, they opened the telegram gently so as to avert any damage to it. They read it and smiled as if it meant the world to them.  After that, many telegrams made their way to my address. While at times it was a circular issued by the school authorities, other times it carried information regarding the insurance policies. Once, in a telegram even a personal informal letter written by an aunt arrived. And there were times when one hoped  that the dreaded telegram announcing the semester result never reaches home. 

   Telegrams had (sadly, past tense) an innate charming effect. Maybe, because of their definite physical form. Or maybe this was due to their connecting factor where the receiver felt much closer to the sender. Some of the times the telegrams were written decorated in ones own handwriting. Such telegrams were even more special. These enumerated stories behind all those letters smudged when the tears would have taken the better of the writer. They were a witness of the happy and the sad expressions.

     I remember once writing such a telegram addressed to my bua (paternal aunt). With the help of newly learnt English words in school, I constructed complex sentences in which I thanked her for loving me more than her own kids. And then, with the help of ‘her own kids’, I telegrammed the letter to the adjacent room. Her reaction is still etched in my memory. With the lips giving a proud smile, the teary-eyes exhibited a paradox. Such was the beauty of a simple yet powerful emotion- evoking thing called a telegram!

Cut to the present.

   The fact that the telegrams are a thing of past saddens me. The government of our country after acknowledging the dominance of the internet plus its easy accessibility and utility decided to call it a day for the telegrams. With easy features available at our ‘computer-step’ like email and instant messaging, telegrams were pigeonholed. The timing of the decision was bad. While my first ever admission letter came through the telegram, I was looking forward to the admission letter from my postgraduate institution through the same cream coloured telegram. Sadly, it never happened. Only a general list on the internet gave me the news. The online list didn’t mean anything, both then and now. The online version deprived me of the pleasure to see the personalised account of the admission letter in my dream institution. It took away a possible piece of cherished memory from my down-the-memory-lane box.

    How much ever personalisation and user friendly interface of online messenger is made, according to me the simple joys attached with a telegram can never be replaced and the memories attached with it can never be replicated. Like many things, with an end of the telegrams another snap with the childhood of 90’s has been broken forever.