Prelude to the journey was as enjoyable

Journeys are meant to be enjoyable. They mark the beginning of the ‘break’ or ‘change’ and they should be the start of the fun. However, when travelling with the old and infirm, or the very young, or the four-legged, those long moments before we get on to the train can be trying in the extreme.

For many years, the tension before a train journey was unbearable because we were not sure until the last moment whether our dog would be allowed to travel with us in our compartment. A part of the problem was that our dog did not know she was a dog. Being locked up in the guard van or in an animal cage was foreign to her. She had always been beside us and that was the only place where she was comfortable.

When we walked along the platform with her, one of us hung on to the leash, which she insisted on straining unto almost a breaking point to keep tabs on the luggage — and the closer she got to the porter, the faster he insisted on moving, trying desperately to stay out of range of her snapping jaws. As we moved at breakneck speed, the one holding the baby tried not to bounce him too much in his baby sling, while keeping strolleys and sundry baggage that did not weigh down the porter on an even keel. This odd procession raced forward and other travellers moved out of the way instantly in the manner of the parting of the Red Sea! We had a straight run to our compartment.

Not so when we were travelling with an elderly aunt recently. To commandeer a wheelchair for her at a railway station was an impossible task. We were told matter-of-factly that there was a wheelchair, but it was broken. “Get something,” we pleaded. (One cannot demand in such a situation. Nor can one flash the green card — in our case, the 500-rupee note, since all others are much too small nowadays. It was really one of those times when we could not get what we wanted for love or money or love of money!)

After a good half-hour of deliberation and aimless short trips by several porters to an unknown place that was definitely not the repository of the wheelchair — broken or otherwise — one of them came up with an innovative solution. “Sit on the luggage trolley,” he suggested, and proceeded to give us a demonstration. When his agile body hopped on and off, it seemed doable — and also the only solution, given that we no longer had a baby sling to try out on our diminutive aunt — and we started the process ...

One suitcase went on the trolley to raise it to the height of a chair and our aunt sat on it. The next suitcase was heaved on and she put her legs on that, somewhat as she would in a recliner. Then one bag went behind her and she leaned back. Not so bad. Pretty comfortable, she said, sportingly. No other luggage fit onto the luggage trolley, so while one of us held on to our aunt to make sure she did not tumble off as she trundled over uneven surfaces, the other lugged the remaining bags. No one made way for this strange procession. We had to shout to get the crowds to part. We squirmed a bit, thinking that onlookers would gawk at what we thought was a comic spectacle — but apparently it wasn’t. No one spared a second look for this white-haired lady on a luggage trolley ...

And suddenly, we saw the humour of it all and the prelude to the journey that we had dreaded became as enjoyable as the rest of the air-conditioned comfort!

Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.