Can't believe it happened to me...

Oh God!!! Can't believe it happened to me...

Earlier this year my cousin had flown from Canada to visit her ailing father and my ailing mom. My Uncle now retired from the Armed Forces, always had a bag full of tales to keep us, entertained, when all relatives used to get together in big family reunions during the vacations. Most often than not, my late Aunt used to wink and let us know which of his tales were reel life. This ritual had continued for a long time till about the time we began to grow up and learnt to fend for our selves and fly away from the nest. So when heard that my Uncle was ill, I wanted to be with him along with my cousins for some time. My other cousin, was flying from Ahmadabad and I joined him on the flight from Delhi.

His tales connected mostly with travel were the ones I remember most. Tales of how he missed his train in spite of reaching the station on the date of travel only to realise that the train was scheduled at a very early hour of the day which in plain terms would have been a very unearthly midnight hour for a commoner, has remain with us as never ending food for humour. And, after every such tale we would tell ourselves in the mind “I will never let this happen to me...”

My Maternal Uncles must have thought the same as I thought, but, how serious they were in their resolve, was revealed when one morning, my late Dad, picked up the phone and was surprised to hear one of my maternal Uncles announcing that they were heading for Delhi instead of Nainital and that too in a Bus. My job was to intercept the bus on arrival and I must pick them up. The sudden change in plans and destination Delhi and that too by Bus... I had already started to smell humour in the offing.

Apparently, my relatives had planned their trip to Nainital via Lucknow followed by Kathgodam They arrived at Lucknow in the early morn of a bright and sunny day. Since their connecting train to Kathgodam was past mid night, they had plenty of time with them for a quick round-up of the City. They were inspired from a blog that I had written on how after completing my work, I had managed a sight seeing of the City before boarding the late night train to Delhi. “Nawabi Dawat” after a whirlwind round up of the city, they packed some food packed for the train journey and trooped back to the station a couple of hours before the train was due. One of my Uncles thought of enquiring from the enquiry counter if the train was on time. It was here that they realised that their train to Kathgodam had departed at the right time that day, exactly at 0:05 hrs. Well just after midnight. In simple words, they had missed their early morning connecting train. Now the next best destination that came to the mind, was Delhi. Without any second thoughts, they boarded a private bus to Delhi.

This time the laughter was at the cost of my maternal Uncles and Aunt (all very eminent personalities in their respective professions). I announced that since I normally prefer driving to my travel destinations, I am to a great extent, immune to such agonising situations. The last time when I faced a similar situation was on my way to Shimla. The Himalayan Queen was late by thirty minutes and the toy train I had booked was due to depart 15 minutes before the anticipated arrival. The train attendant had assured us that the toy train would only depart 15 minutes after the Himalayan Queen reached Kalka. Sure thing, The Toy Train was waiting for us. So, I never thought that any thing like missing a train could occur with me. However, I would have never known that there could be anyone who thought otherwise, had my family not decided to go on a vacation to North East this year.

The planning started well in advance and my better half roped in my Sister in law and her family for the trip. The destination and the days were frozen, but, since I would not be able to accompany them it was decided to cut short the trip to just 8 days. Tickets were booked about two months in advance and all that was left now was to plan on how to make most out of the eight days. With due respects to all who matter, I knew that since this was almost an all female outing there would be chaos and lots of it just before the d day and also during the trip, so I was not taking any chances. I also started stocking not only for the trip but also for the house hold which would then be under my command. With meticulous detailing, I started with medicines followed by coffee pouches, tea pouches, powdered milk, sugar, maps, travel Info literature, travel gears, clothings, memory cards for the cameras, batteries for the cameras, Cameras, chargers, mobile phones a four way power strip, a multi plug power adaptor, cello tapes, duct tapes, cosmetics etc., etc. Finally with every thing in control, all that was left to do was to prepare a day to day “to-do” list for them and keep waiting for the D-Day.

Finally a day before the D-Day, I sat with my daughters, detailing them with travel plans, dates of travel, times of trains, what they were to carry in their back packs and what they were to carry in the AT strolly. My better half is usually always too busy for these kind of details. Since NE Express is an early morning train from Delhi, incidentally, the only reason we were able to secure reservation when all others were fully booked, we called it an early day but not before I called up our ever dependable Surinder Singh, the cabbie who usually took the girls to school for his services. My Sister in law and her family would reach the station separately from their South Delhi abode.

Surinder Singh honked his presence sharp at 5 am. The girls (includes my wife who was more active than ever frolicking around with my children... needed to be seen to be believed) were all ready. We trooped into the waiting cab. We covered the distance to Old Delhi Station which would other wise take at least 40 minutes in barely 15 minutes. By 5:30am we were on the platform. We now had about 35 minutes with us before the scheduled departure. Well a departure that could take place only after the arrival of the rake. There was a train on the designated platform and the electronic information board announced it was Brahmaputra Mail. “OMG... Brahmaputra Mail is running so late....” I heard myself tell my wife, in the overwhelming cacophony of voices, standing in front of a unreserved compartment. The Platform was jam packed with people jostling with each other. A pall of strange odour from stale body odours mixed with smell of stale sweat and that emanating from the golden yellow left overs on the tracks from under the coach wash rooms, hung over the place. Occasional whiffs stale perfumes fought a losing battle to overcome the stench. I asked a porter where the AC compartment would be and as quickly as possible I moved with my family in the direction he had pointed. On the way we found a a spot with an embedded waiting bench which was strangely vacant. Promptly we occupied it. I took this as a good omen, because this was the first time in my over three decades in the City, that not only my family but even I managed to find a vacant bench in any one of its railway stations. Happy in the mind, we waited patiently for the Brahmaputra Mail to depart.

As we waited patiently my better half ranted on my incorrigible “too early” to the station habit. There was reason for her rantings. She had left behind her spectacles in the early morn hurry. I tried to pacify her saying that I would courier it and that her spects would certainly reach her before she started for Gangtok from Coochbehar. Once in a while a passenger with a strolly in tow or another with a chain of kids and a wife in tow could be seen scurrying from one end of the platform to the other. I could hear my better half telling the girls that the frequency of such sudden “realisational” rush would increase as the time for departure came near. My children giggled every time the spectacle repeated its self. I was starting to get restless. The departure time of NE Express was nearing and still there was no sign of the rake I was beginning to worry if we were on the right platform. An announcement on the PA system confirmed that we were on the right platform, but where on the Earth was the rake?

We were still waiting when I spotted a railway official pasting list of passengers on the coaches of Brahmaputra Mail. This looked strange. The lists should have been pasted as soon as the rake entered the platform. “I hope this fellow is sticking the passenger list on the right”, I told myself as I rose from my new found throne and proceeded to check out what list he was pasting. It was then that I realised that the rake in front of which we had been waiting for the last 30 minutes was not Brahmaputra Mail, but was NE Express. Well the stage had turned upon us. It was time we started scurrying... A man with a extra large strolly behind him and three ladies in tow.... I was smiling in my mind thinking the amusement some other passengers like us were having at our cost. But, all that was not important, with barely 5 minutes in hand, I was desperately trying to reach the first AC coach, so that at the worst, my family would be on board the train and they could eventually find their coach moving through the vestibules. Barely two minutes in hand we found the coach. Luckily the coach was the very first one we reached and the seats in the very first coupe.

It was only as I began to deboard the train that the realisation dawned up on us that my in-laws were still missing. My better half looked at me with blank face when I asked her “Where are they?” A flurry of frantic calls and teleconferencing between my sister in law and my wife, my children and their son, my spouses brother in law and yours faithfully on one mobile phone and my brother in law on another mobile phone, and, who was at his home packing for his train to Bhubaneshwar later in the day, revealed that my relatives had finally managed to reach the station in time. Almost at the same time the coach jerked into a motion commencing the journey. With the sound of horns slowly fading away, the train rolled away from me faster and faster. I followed it till I reached the staircase from the over bridge, at a time when the guards compartment overtook me. At the top of the staircase, I found my spouse's brother in law panting downwards with my nephew and sister in law in tow behind the porter he had hired. As I pointed towards the 'X' that was gradually zooming out, without any words exchanged, my spouses brother in law rushed past me in hot pursuit of the 'X' that was moving away from us more swiftly than ever before. The strange look on his face was like as if asking me what prevented me from holding that train a minute longer. Only one more person who was in hot pursuit was the porter he had hired. My Sister in law and my nephew joined me at the foot of the staircase watching in disbelief that this was happening to us.

A minute later, I don't know if it was the end of the platform or it was “happy realisation” that there was no use fighting a lost battle that my spouses brother in law suddenly decided to stop and turn back. With him stopped his man Friday clad in Red Shirt and a white dhoti (loin cloth) that didn't give way in spite of the valiant run. With a bag tucked under each of Friday's arms and a strolly that had been taking a happy stroll sitting on his head, slowly returned our soldiers bruised by humiliation but not defeated. A battle had been lost but certainly not the War. A onlooker advised us to rush to Ghaziabad, where we would probably intercept this train. Off bolted our man with a shocking red back pack on his back and a red porter following him along with two grown ups and a child in tow... it looked like a flick right out of a comedy film. While we were rushing out of the station, I was conferencing with my better half on the train and a friends off the train. I had shoved into my daughter's back pack copies of the relevant pages of the time table. My wife had told me that they were not need. Now I was slowly complementing myself as she referred to the pages as we zeroed on to Tundla the nearest station an d the most sure one from where my relatives could board this train. The next best option would be to try and intercept it at Kanpur. But, now the problem was how to reach Tundla. The time table came handy again. We found out that Kalka Mail follows this train for quite some time before overtaking it just before reaching Tundla. NE Express had a long stop at Tundla, giving them enough time to catch up. But, by the time all this realisation settled in, my in-laws had almost reached Ghaziabad (20 mins flat incredible speed the cabbie had driven) and I was on my way back home on the Metro.

While I was explaining the situation to my spouses brother in-law, I over heard my wife on my other phone say “we just passed by them, we just passed them... they are standing on the platform....”. “Pull the Chain...” was my immediate response because I thought this to be the best inconvenience to save a lot of other inconveniences. On the other phone my spouses brother in law was yelling “pull the chain....pull the chain....” it was only after he had calmed down that I could tell him that I could not pull the chain because I was on board the Delhi Metro headed for home and not on the North East Express he was chasing. All said and done, my in-laws managed to board the Kalka Mail from Ghaziabad and were finally on their way to Gangtok... well not really so till they overtook North East Express. The TT on Kalka Mail was cooperative and had spoken to the TT on NE Express on wireless. Almost the same time I de boarded the Metro train, my better half informed me that the TT on NE had come to inform her that her 'consignment' was safe and on board Kalka Mail and will be delivered at Tundla.

I still can't believe that this happened to me well... us..... ME.... sitting for minutes in front of the train to board yet almost managing to miss it..... and... US.... we managed to play a role we never thought we would ever play..... five people in a row chasing a train......

The comedy of errors however didn't end here. On another train my brother in law ( my wife's brother) who had left for Bhubaneshwar with his in laws on Bhubaneshwar Rajdhani Express later the same day, hit the highest by managing to do the impossible.... Pull the Chain... Privy to our teleconferencing, the idea of pulling the chain in an emergency was embedded in the back of his mind, it erupted when the train they were on decided to leave behind his Father in Law , who had stepped out for a stroll on a station. Like a worthy son in law, my brother in law pulled the chain.... the train came to a sudden halt sending shock waves far and near. Within minutes, all sorts of security personnel, some carrying AK47 and others with SLRs and yet others with just the “laathis” (canes). Train staff, station staff, engineers and every one, one can think of graced the occasion breathing “whys and you know what this can cost you...” on his neck and sharing nasty expressions as bonus.... cooolllll.... so folks except for the one in the Lavatory, please don't pull any other chains, particularly when travelling on Rajdhanis.

All who have been with me so long, please do not disclose this to my cousins.... my over 45 years of unblemished travel history is now in your hands.