The Train...

The Train…

I saw on the display board with red and green,  it’s coming on platform 1, how often that happens but of course it’s no ordinary train.

While my bags passed through the metal detector, I waited and saw the engine passing by, nothing unusual then, on a big board it was there.Kalka Shatabdi being displayed in huge fonts. Then I remembered something, something I had forgotten a long ago.

Years ago I along with my family used to wait at platform number 1 for hours awaiting connecting train to Bihar.  Travel was quite different and it used to take three days to reach the destination.  The journey in the sleeper coach of Indian railways was some kind of experience that’s rarely forgettable. Getting in while fighting hundreds and fighting for your reserved seats.  Bringing homemade puri and dry sabzi for sustenance and getting down at every major junction to refill the huge camper. While those all combined to play an important role in brewing my childhood but at that time I wished for something more.
Awaiting for hours relishing dosa from railway canteen, I used to observe. Shatabdi used to be there every time that I ever remember. I used to watch it with so much of aspirations and hope, remembering my gk session about the fastest train in India. I used to wonder about the people traveling in this one.I used to watch those people with all suave personalities, with their classic style and demeanor. It was a dream for me being inside that train with so comfortable chairs and people being seated without shouts and screams over those seats. I silently promised myself that someday in days to come I will find myself in those posh coaches.
Days to months and then to years, my life changed a lot during the course of time and I graduated from the sleeper class to the Airbus somehow missing a key step in the middle.
As I know saw my name on the door of executive chair car of Shatabdi,  I looked back envisioning fifteen years ago me,  looking at me and smiling with pride that I kept my promise.

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