The Journey

 "Mamma, can we go by train?" Rupa's elder one, Advika, asked. "We never travel by train," the 13-year-old pleaded.

"You will get bored," Rupa responded mechanically as she checked the flight cost and availability to Chennai from Delhi in December.

Rupa's younger son Vivek looked up from his book and said, "Mamma will get bored, she means."

Rupa laughed. "Don't be silly. I grew up journeying on the train. But from here to Chennai is easily 36 hours. That's more than a day!"

She said as she zoned in on a flight that seemed like the best option.

"We get bored in Chennai too, what's a 36-hour journey?" Advika grumbled.

Rupa deliberately ignored her daughter as she focused on finishing the booking process. Advika had gone back to her mobile and Vivek was engrossed in the book. Rupa looked at them as she let her daughter's words sink in. Her children get bored visiting Chennai? She couldn't believe that they actually didn't like visiting the grandmothers or the uncles and cousins! Oh, how she had looked forward to it. In fact, one of the best parts was to stay at one of the uncle's houses without her parents! She would be pampered and she could get away with all kinds of naughtiness. Even her cousins would be given some rope to indulge in things denied to them for the rest of the year!

The joy began the moment the train ticket was booked. The packing, reaching the station, finding their seats, everything was so exciting! Her brothers and she would fight for the window seat. The elder one would grab the side facing the engine, teasing her, "When I push, the train will start." The first couple of times, she had been too young and in awe of her brother. "Please push now," she would beg. "No, the moment has to be right." She was probably 5 or 6 when she realised her brother had nothing to do with the train's moving. But still, that game continued and she did the same if there was a younger child in the coupe. She would suggest pushing the train at the right moment to get it started and see the admiration with amusement.

Friends would be made, food shared and the 36 hours would fly! The journey was as exciting as reaching the destination and being welcomed by the relatives. There would be lots of visits and there was nothing called boredom! Even when visiting the aged, there were the goodies to look forward to. Temple visits would be with cousins and aunts and uncles. 

In those few days of visiting relatives, they didn't have just one set of parents or siblings. The merging of families and the sharing of times made it so much more memorable. Even when an aunt, uncle or a cousin proved to be difficult. For instance, uncle Srini! His mood changes were swift and someone would have to keep watch to alert the other visiting kids about an impending storm. He would be smiling indulgently at their childish games, and the next moment, provoked by his nagging wife, would berate them all for the racket they created. They would all scatter like dew drops seeing the sun!

Then there was the aunt who measured every morsel. She hated even a grain being wasted, so she would make and serve less than see food having to be stored or given to the cow. Even when they bought the fridge, she didn't like to keep old food inside it. But uncle would slip the children some money to buy ice cream, sugar candy and other goodies when the handcart their street in the afternoon. 

Then there was one widowed aunt who loved to tell stories. But the joke was that she only told tall tales even about real life incidents that had apparently happened to her. "I was going to my elder aunt's house when the bus broke down! We were near the forest and you know, we could hear a loud noise, it was nothing like what anyone had ever heard," or some such would start. They indulged her because she meant no harm and kept the children occupied with her fantastic stories.

Parting was always tough after so much fun. And the train journey back home helped overcome the blues. If one of the cousins was returning with them, oh what celebrations! Just running up and down the train, visiting the pantry, playing cards... There was no limit to what they could achieve in that confined space!

She looked at her children and wondered if that transition from the city they grew up in to the city they were visiting is what they were missing. There was no anticipation, no excitement. Uncles and aunts were no longer the same...

The day came for them to get on the plane and fly to Chennai. "When I push this pane, the plane will start moving," she told Vivek.

He rolled his eyes. "Mamma, I am too old for this!" he replied.

The three were sitting snugly next to each other, the aisle separating them from strangers and potential travel partners. All three of them immersed themselves in their mobiles to cut the world off and let the media entertain them. She looked around and found everybody lost thus or just napping. She closed her eyes and thought of the nameless strangers whose faces had faded from her memory but who had made the train journey fun. 

She sighed and looked out of the window and the featureless sky,  listening to the monotonous drone of the flight. She missed the varying beats of the train that would tell her if it was speeding up or slowing down; she missed the flitting trees and villages and cities and stations; she longed for the bustle of the vendors inside the train with their wares and the chaiwallas and the samosas and meals that they could order from the station. She used to be scared whenever they crossed a bridge, the hollow sound sounding ominous. When two trains crossed at full speed, her heart would be in her mouth. When a tunnel came, screaming in glee was mandatory.

Next time, she would take her children by train. She hoped it was not just a nostalgia that romanticised the past. Did those who travelled by train still have such experiences or they also cocut their co-passengers off with the fence of earphones?