Nagarjuna Sagar tales – Two

Miracle on Platform 9 - Someshwara’s gesture

There is something about Central station – the red colour Gothic structure is the face of Chennai in weather bulletins and at once synonymous to the Tamil capital. It is pleasing structure, extending latitude and a white conical apex that holds a clock. It sure gives the city a personality. I have been taking trains from Central since 1989 when this city became my home. Those days the Central station felt large and imposing but now too much crowd, noise, and perennial stench no longer feels special. But reaching Chennai Central from a long journey always lifts the spirit for Besant nagar is just an hour from here.

            I got off the Chennai Park MRTS station and after all those elevated station, this is the first station on the line that’s on the terra firma. So you climb up a lot of stairs and reach the middle of a flyover; and come face-to-face with the Gothic design of the Central station. It can be seen from a mile away. The buses, autos, and swarm of people converge at the station like bees. Traffic and people create their din, there is always this rush and maniacal energy to the place.

            I entered the station by 3:30 for a 4:45 train. It was a rainy day and that makes for puddles and adds a dash of colour with opened umbrellas, grey skies, and greeneries of trees. The tarmac is wet from slush. The reservation charts is the first thing a visitor would come across as he climbs up the two steps into the Central's tarmac from the asphalt road. I was reasonably confident: my waiting list status was 9 at 2:00 pm and that was before the charts were finalized. I was smug, so certain of a RAC that would fetch me a seat in the least. Nalgonda is over 500 km and 10 hours of rail travel and under night skies, a berth is an absolute must

            My nerves were bit jumpy, remember my last post on almost going ticket-less in the suburban train. I asked couple of people for the reservation chart. One man took me to the wrong direction before another person set me right. It was a cloudy afternoon and the rains had stopped for the moment. This is the time when the greens of the trees become conspicuous to the eyes as though they have been cleaned of all the grime. I had brought the printout of my ticket and I just couldn’t read a thing – the printout was so light and in the poor fading light not a syllable rang in the mind. It was criminally foolish on my part to leave the spectacles back home - my reason was those were not needed for a meditation retreat. I saw my train, Hyderabad Express on the chart, it ran to just three pages laid out one after the other vertically. I tried spotting my name but with increasing panic nothing remotely bore a match. I asked a youngster for assistance,” My eyes are not able to read a thing. Can you please see if this number is anywhere in those charts?” He ran a very quick eye and shaking his head walked away.

            I walked to the platform. I saw my train on platform 9. It brought back memories of my almost every fortnight travel in 1989 when my father was dying in Madras and I had my final year at college. I would mostly take this train and so it has been years of drought! The unreserved compartments are at both ends of the train. I took in one look at a general compartment and my face fell: the floors were slush and it was jam packed. Any train on weekends is booked two months in advance; working crowd eager to go back to their parents or wives and make the most of a two day break. I saw even the berth bursting at the seams in the unreserved compartment. I immediately decided: this is no way to travel for 11 hours.

            I walked towards the middle of the train (you see, I don't give up so easily!); this is a huge train with around 22 carriages. The platform was sparsely populated for there were more than 40 minutes for the train to depart. I parked my ass on a bench on the platform somewhere in the middle of the train. I called Kesavan from my mobile,” Do me a quick favour?  This is my PNR number and can you run a check on the internet?” He came back almost immediate,” Sathya, your ticket is not confirmed. This is the final reservation charts and your ticket still shows WL 9.” There was young man who was witness of my distress. He was short, looked mid twenties, with a thin mustache, dark rimmed spectacles over jeans and a stripped T-shirt. It is a typical Telugu face – you notice in the languid manner they speak. I asked him,” Can you help me? I did not bring my specs and couldn’t make much of the reservation charts. Here is my cellphone, will you SMS my PNR for the last update?” My eyes were so bad that even keying in a SMS message on my mobile would have been a hard toil. He agreed immediately and confirmed what Kesavan said,” No.”

            Now I had a double confirmation. I got up and thought of going by bus. I told the young man,” In that case I’ll go home.”

            The stranger said,” Weekends are always packed.”

            I told him about a meditation at Nagarjuna Sagar and he said,” Sir, you cannot travel with this ticket printout. Go and get a general ticket. I have a berth in S4 and we can share.”

            I could not believe my luck. I said,” Thanks. I’ll rush and buy a new ticket.”

I raced in the slush concrete floor towards the exit. The current booking counters are in the adjacent Moore Market building where the suburbans are parked. In a station people go in random direction – some rush towards platforms while there are those in a hurry to get out. Then the hawkers and porters. I walked at a fast clip and negotiate the water logged roads and the office crowd hurrying to catch their suburban.Railway stations at the best of times resemble ants colony, everyone racing and in every direction.

            I found the counter; these buildings are huge and the roof is like 15 meters over the head. I stood in a queue behind a dozen people. I still had 30 minutes in which to get the new ticket and go scurrying back to platform number 9 where this train stood. Put all the elements and they consume time; I’ll cut in barely.I got a fresh ticket almost hollering at the counter to issue the ticket as quick! The booking clerk did not take offense for he tuned in to my sense of urgency. Then back to slushy roads, past the hotels, cloak rooms, and lots of baskets strewn around on an consignment. Trust Chennai's main station to be a beehive of activity round the clock, and this was close to peak time.

            I saw the train’s TTE on platform 9. He was peering into his reservation chart. I accosted him,” Sir, my waitlisted ticket did not make it. Now I have a general ticket and I am going a share a berth in the reserved compartment. Is that ok?” This is sheer playing it ultra cautious of an inexperienced traveler. True to told, my last train journey was over two years back. The man in the black coat said,” Be prepared to pay the penalty. It will come to around Rs.350.”

            I said,” Thanks,” and moved away for it showed less than five minutes to departure. Armed with this knowledge, I felt the pinch would not hurt me. It is always better to know the punishment beforehand than any surprises later on. I found the S-4 coach and my benefactor. But for this kindness, I would have been on the way back home.

            He was surprised to see me. I showed him my new ticket and parked by duffel bag beneath the long bench. My sister called. I walked towards the toilet so that I could not be heard by others. I said,” Thanks to a stranger’s magnanimity I get to travel. The ticket was not confirmed.” The train started to move and I was growing in confidence. The trip is ON.

            I asked the stranger’s name by introducing myself. He said,” I am Someshwara Rao and I travel frequently by this train. You see, I work in Madurai and almost every month I make a trip to Hyderabad to be with my parents.”

            I asked,” Why were you so kind to me?”

He said,” Maybe someone will be kind to me when I am in need.” The train gathered speed and I realized that this gesture could be the biggest one I received from a rank stranger. The omens never looked more bright.” I instinctively knew that this was a minor miracle; thanked my stars and maybe my personality had something to do with it. I was just plain lucky to find a person to accommodate me in a reserved compartment on a Friday evening train. BTW it pays to speak in decent English in a public place probably!