I stood on Platform No. 2 of Moradabad railway station, waiting for my train to Varanasi. The station provided a perfect picture of a typical Indian railway station. The crowd, the vendors, the hawkers, the noise, the filth, the confusion, the chaos.
I have a strange fascination for railway stations even at this age. The railway system is a huge leveller. From the well to do, who travel in 1st class to the poor, who travel in the crowds of the unreserved coaches, at the end of the day they reach the same destination at the same time and when they reach their destination they have the same thing on their minds - "I have reached."
Getting back to where I was, i.e. on Platform No. 2. In front of me was the station building and a troop of 10-12 monkeys were playing on its roofs. There were quite a few monkey - kids among them. I was observing them with a lot of interest. The younger ones, full of energy, were clinging on electric wires and chasing each other. The older ones, their enthusiasm, much reduced by their agea, sat watching over their kids and cleaning each other's coats. At times a little monkey would suddenly run to its mother and cling on to her. Probably he had had a fight with his cousins.
The Laws of nature are universal and this was a clear manifestation. No matter how much we complicate our lives in this modern world, certain things remain so simple yet so beautiful.
Behind me, on Platform No. 3, stood another train. It seemed to be a local passenger train and was crowded to capacity. I hardly took any interest in it. Sometime later, I walked down the platform to buy a bottle of water. As I did so, I came across a coach with the particulars of the source and destination of the train mentioned on it. It read - "Delhi - Shamli - Delhi - ..... " The next moment I was more than interested in that overcrowded train.
'Time Stops at Shamli' is one of my favourite Ruskin Bond stories, in which, out of sheer curiosity, the narrator steps out of his train at Shamli station. The story goes on to describe Shamli and the experiences of the narrator there.
For once I wanted to step into that train, to go to Shamli and have a look at the station and the place. Is it really a station with one platform, one fruit seller, one little girl selling ribbons, one tonga and one hotel? I have my own picture of what Shamli must look like and it would feel nice to have a real look at it. In all probabilities it would be completely different, but how wonderful it would be if it really turned out to be what I had imagined. Probably, the little girl has now grown up.
I have a strange fascination for railway stations even at this age. The railway system is a huge leveller. From the well to do, who travel in 1st class to the poor, who travel in the crowds of the unreserved coaches, at the end of the day they reach the same destination at the same time and when they reach their destination they have the same thing on their minds - "I have reached."
Getting back to where I was, i.e. on Platform No. 2. In front of me was the station building and a troop of 10-12 monkeys were playing on its roofs. There were quite a few monkey - kids among them. I was observing them with a lot of interest. The younger ones, full of energy, were clinging on electric wires and chasing each other. The older ones, their enthusiasm, much reduced by their agea, sat watching over their kids and cleaning each other's coats. At times a little monkey would suddenly run to its mother and cling on to her. Probably he had had a fight with his cousins.
The Laws of nature are universal and this was a clear manifestation. No matter how much we complicate our lives in this modern world, certain things remain so simple yet so beautiful.
Behind me, on Platform No. 3, stood another train. It seemed to be a local passenger train and was crowded to capacity. I hardly took any interest in it. Sometime later, I walked down the platform to buy a bottle of water. As I did so, I came across a coach with the particulars of the source and destination of the train mentioned on it. It read - "Delhi - Shamli - Delhi - ..... " The next moment I was more than interested in that overcrowded train.
'Time Stops at Shamli' is one of my favourite Ruskin Bond stories, in which, out of sheer curiosity, the narrator steps out of his train at Shamli station. The story goes on to describe Shamli and the experiences of the narrator there.
For once I wanted to step into that train, to go to Shamli and have a look at the station and the place. Is it really a station with one platform, one fruit seller, one little girl selling ribbons, one tonga and one hotel? I have my own picture of what Shamli must look like and it would feel nice to have a real look at it. In all probabilities it would be completely different, but how wonderful it would be if it really turned out to be what I had imagined. Probably, the little girl has now grown up.
2 comments:
good observation ! and a well put piece!
if u make it 2 shamli do let me kno too, if its like the idea u already hve f it, thru d story :)
ohhh the beauty of some writers!!!they will transport you into another world!and even the remotest connection to the book/writer/place fills your mind with vivid images in the book!!!its plain amazing
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