By RK Rishikesh Sinha, New Delhi
New/Old Delhi Railway station - mere mentioning of the name sprouts in me all the forgotten, dormant memories, associated with this busiest railway station of India. How, as a child clutching my father's hand we used to board to another train, how as a teenager slept on its platforms, and went for Delhi Darshan on walk. These and many memories come crumbling out of my every visit to this railway station. This time for the last two days I had been visiting the railway station, and every time it reminds me all the sweet and harrowing experience that took place in the railway stations.
Now when I visit the railway station, although I don't remember a figment of its past structure, how it looked at that time, one thing that assures me again and again - I have become a "man", my parents don't accompany me every time I leave home.
From the basket of memories, here is the one that I would say, still if you ask my mom to narrate she would love to go on a pre-recorded speech, innumerable times! A cup of tea with “aaee”, assured! The year was 1983, we - my mother, dad, younger brother, and another brother younger to him, who at that time was still in mom's lap, after getting down from the Jammu-New Delhi train, were literally running to catch the link-train to Guwahati, Assam. In the football of passengers, we were headed by a coolie carrying our boxes and beddings, beside him my father, next to him my mom, my younger brother and I clutching my mom's hand. In the catch-the -train exercise, the coolie was working as a lamp post, a beacon giving direction to us. In the bevy of people, many times my father was not visible to my mom, and the distance between us with minutes was increasing.
Seeing the distance increasing, and not able to carry three of us, mom instructed my younger brother to run and catch Dad. Time was too short; the train would be leaving after 5 minutes.
Finally, we were able to catch the link-train. We were all happy, and started occupying our respective berths. Breaking the atmosphere of merriment, suddenly my father asked where is "Gautam"- my younger brother. He was not with us. He has lost. Hell breaks loose upon all of us. Pain of loosing a member from the family instantly grimaced in our face. We all started searching for him in different directions, but keeping sight of the train bogie.
Fear of not loosing rest two of us, my mom assembled us, though by that time we have got down from the bogie and were waiting for the arrival of my Dad. We were crying and were seeking help, asking people- have they seen the “lost” boy? Something that was pumping our blood high and higher, and all negatives thoughts enveloping us - it was the non-stop announcements running in the railway station: mentioning the names of lost children.
At last, in our face smiled appeared when we saw Dad bringing Gautam in his hand. We all heaved a sigh of relief and boarded the train again. Later Dad told he went to the direction we have had traversed. He saw, Gautam crying loudly encircled by people. The incident still sends goose bumps and am still feeling it while I am writing this.
Here I stop if I go on writing among many incidents, one in which I got lost for 7 hours without a penny in pocket in the same station, another in which I was in the midst of passengers who were ill-tempered and were physically fighting, I bet the blog's space wouldn't be enough to accommodate it, even readers' capacity to digest it.
We all readers would be happy, if you share with all of us your sweet travel memories. Do write.
New/Old Delhi Railway station - mere mentioning of the name sprouts in me all the forgotten, dormant memories, associated with this busiest railway station of India. How, as a child clutching my father's hand we used to board to another train, how as a teenager slept on its platforms, and went for Delhi Darshan on walk. These and many memories come crumbling out of my every visit to this railway station. This time for the last two days I had been visiting the railway station, and every time it reminds me all the sweet and harrowing experience that took place in the railway stations.Now when I visit the railway station, although I don't remember a figment of its past structure, how it looked at that time, one thing that assures me again and again - I have become a "man", my parents don't accompany me every time I leave home.
From the basket of memories, here is the one that I would say, still if you ask my mom to narrate she would love to go on a pre-recorded speech, innumerable times! A cup of tea with “aaee”, assured! The year was 1983, we - my mother, dad, younger brother, and another brother younger to him, who at that time was still in mom's lap, after getting down from the Jammu-New Delhi train, were literally running to catch the link-train to Guwahati, Assam. In the football of passengers, we were headed by a coolie carrying our boxes and beddings, beside him my father, next to him my mom, my younger brother and I clutching my mom's hand. In the catch-the -train exercise, the coolie was working as a lamp post, a beacon giving direction to us. In the bevy of people, many times my father was not visible to my mom, and the distance between us with minutes was increasing.Seeing the distance increasing, and not able to carry three of us, mom instructed my younger brother to run and catch Dad. Time was too short; the train would be leaving after 5 minutes.
Finally, we were able to catch the link-train. We were all happy, and started occupying our respective berths. Breaking the atmosphere of merriment, suddenly my father asked where is "Gautam"- my younger brother. He was not with us. He has lost. Hell breaks loose upon all of us. Pain of loosing a member from the family instantly grimaced in our face. We all started searching for him in different directions, but keeping sight of the train bogie.
Fear of not loosing rest two of us, my mom assembled us, though by that time we have got down from the bogie and were waiting for the arrival of my Dad. We were crying and were seeking help, asking people- have they seen the “lost” boy? Something that was pumping our blood high and higher, and all negatives thoughts enveloping us - it was the non-stop announcements running in the railway station: mentioning the names of lost children.
At last, in our face smiled appeared when we saw Dad bringing Gautam in his hand. We all heaved a sigh of relief and boarded the train again. Later Dad told he went to the direction we have had traversed. He saw, Gautam crying loudly encircled by people. The incident still sends goose bumps and am still feeling it while I am writing this.
Here I stop if I go on writing among many incidents, one in which I got lost for 7 hours without a penny in pocket in the same station, another in which I was in the midst of passengers who were ill-tempered and were physically fighting, I bet the blog's space wouldn't be enough to accommodate it, even readers' capacity to digest it.
We all readers would be happy, if you share with all of us your sweet travel memories. Do write.
Mr Rishikesh I always liked your posts but never dared to appreciate. But today after reading the post I thought of commenting as it reminds me of an incident that took place with me when i was a child. Once when I was returning from Delhi from my Didi's house with my parents we lost one luggage, where most of our newly bought things were there which made all of us very sad. So, if were so sad at the loss of a luggage I am just wondering the agony you all would have gone through when you were not able to get your younger brother. Really I would say God was with you that you found your brother back.
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