Magic of train journeys

For the young and the busy, there is no substitute for a quick flight to where one needs to go - either a weekend getaway or a weekday conference. But for some there is nothing like the magic of a leisurely train journey to start the holiday before it begins or get you in the mood for the office presentation with ample time to rehearse.

And on the way back, it gives you time to recover from the hectic sightseeing, the late nights around the campfire and the early morning treks - or whatever you've been doing during your packed itinerary. Just sleep it off on the train and you're ready to take on the world when you get home again.

In India, train journeys are long, thanks to the sheer length and breadth of the land, but we take the distances for granted when we travel anywhere. "Only a 24-hour journey," we say nonchalantly, when that much time would take us halfway across the world by air.

Not all of us have the luxury of time nor are all of us able to afford the compartments where we can spread out in air-conditioned comfort. Oh, the luxury of reading a book from cover to cover in one sitting, while munching on those freshly made snacks that come out of the train pantry!

Being a hardcore landlubber, I've had many such luxurious hours of spreading out and napping and reading - but we had even better train journeys as kids.

First of all, and most important in those days, we took our larder with us. The most closely guarded piece of baggage was the tiffin basket - larger than any of our suitcases - and stuffed with goodies we weren't allowed to indulge in the rest of the year. Thanks to our father's stint with the railways, we often travelled in saloons that were attached to the end of the train. Those saloons had several sets of bunk beds, and none of us had to fight for the top berths since there were enough to go around.

There was a kitchenette; there were wardrobes and shelves - all the comforts of a mobile home away from home though our mother probably had a tough time working the stove in that makeshift kitchen. For us, there was nothing to beat those trips. Sometimes, we would stay tucked away in the saloon in a station yard for the entire holiday, while Dad went about his inspection or whatever it was he had to do.

There was no air-conditioning on trains and we usually travelled in summer, but we didn't feel the heat. We'd open the broad rear windows and look out at the rails, leaning out and waving to people who watched the merry group at the back of the train. We played 'Bluff' and 'Ludo' and jump off at a station and buy a gawdy toy that would be broken before the end of the journey; we fought over nothing, bonding in a way we couldn't during the school year when each of us was busy with classes and friends.

When the lights were out and it was time to sleep, we'd tell stories, especially scary ones with all the special effects of the train whistle and the ghostly shadows as we flashed past deserted platforms in the middle of the night.

Nothing is deserted anymore in our crowded subcontinent. What's worse, everyone seems to be on the move. Getting onto a train, even getting a seat, has become as stressful as any other form of transport, but once those hurdles are passed, rail journeys still have a special charm - partly their own and partly the recalled magic of journeys past.

Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.