However, when I got stranded at Charbagh Station in Lucknow for 24-hours, it was an event that could have gone into some record book.
Lucknow, lovingly called the city of nawabs, is well known for its ‘pehle aap’ syndrome and boasts of several historical monuments. Its railway station, Charbagh, is a magnificent building and, through its platforms run any number of trains.
I have visited Lucknow several times on temporary duty and usually traveled by the Kushinagar Express – and in one instance, even though I had confirmed reservations for my return journey to Nashik, I was stuck at the station for 24-hours and I was all alone.
The departure time of Kushinagar Express was half an hour past midnight. Therefore, as I had done on umpteen occasions in the past, I left my company’s guest house after a hurried dinner, booked my suitcase in the cloak room by 9.30 pm and wandered around the platform waiting for the arrival of my train to be announced.
Suddenly, I heard a totally different announcement over the PA and it got me floored.
It seems due to a flash strike by the motormen in Bombay, movement of trains was affected and, my particular train, the Kushinagar was running indefinitely late!! The PA system also informed that, in case one wanted to return his ticket, he could do so and claim full refund.
I had no intention of cancelling my ticket because there was no telling if the railways suddenly decided to run an extra train to carry the helpless passengers and that was the longest day of literally 24 hours that I had ever spent. The Japanese pride themselves on their tradition of punctuality but, our Indian Railway boasts of delays. When one is in the company of relatives and friends a certain of delay is tolerable, in fact pleasant. But, when it involves an individual, the resultant situation can play havoc with ones nerves and could, even, culminate in insanity!! Just imagine my condition – in order to while away the time, I would take a plate of pakoras on Platform No. 1. Then move over to Platform No. 5 for a cup of tea, return to Platform No. 1 to buy the newspaper and then, locate a vacant seat on which to sit down and read through the paper. At the end of it all, I found that I had been able to spend around twenty minutes or so.
There was, of course, a brighter side - I was able to observe from close quarters how a large railway station gradually wakes up from its slumber to greet a new day, how utensils are cleaned, how people huddle together and take their bath, how the puribhajiwala prepares the highly specialized concoctions that go garam-a-garam to fill hungry mouths, how the urchins beg for morsels of food to whet their appetites, how the elders among these urchins, especially, the girls combine together to form groups and work out strategies of making people part with a few coins. They have perfected the art of appealing to your basic instincts by revealing just enough to evoke your sympathies. Then, as the day progressed, the movement of trains picked up and the situation started to become normal except that there was no news of my Kushinagar.
Breakfast time rolled on to lunch time and then on to tea time. I had seen practically all there was to see in the nook and corners of each and every platform. I had chanced upon some beggars under one of the staircases, they were high on drugs. A group of foursome was gambling with a pack of cards. A couple of young girls were trying to solicit customers in broad daylight. In between, I tried to steal forty winks in the retiring room and stretch my legs. By the time darkness started descending, I was fit to crawl up a wall, any wall.
At last, by 10 pm, the PA announced the arrival of my beloved Kushinagar express and I immediately rang up my wife to pass on the good news. In those days, mobile phones were few and I had to stand in queue at the STD booth to connect with my wife.
Once that was done, I went over to the restaurant and had a really heavy dinner before boarding the train.
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