Despite being well into her 80s, she is still regal and still able to hold her own in her circles. She has had to adapt from the grandeur of silver and gold of the 1930s to a more sober deep blue today and there are signs of wear and tear. She has had many a facelift and with the increase in her load, she has had to gird herself to take on the additional strain — but she has managed it.

And she continues to be one of the most popular monarchs of the Indian sub-continent: The Deccan Queen. The daily train that runs between Pune and Mumbai: 84, going on 85 years.

When we were introduced to this elegant lady as children, there were few alternatives to the Deccan Queen and if we wanted to travel between the two cities, she was about the only choice.

However, even then, we knew that those excursions were special. For us, it brought the grown-up experience of walking to the dining car to order what we wanted for breakfast — or relaxing in our seats and awaiting the attendants who brought all manner of delights to us. For Mother, it was the relief of being free of that picnic hamper that accompanied us on other train journeys.

We collected memories of those journeys, holding them close to our hearts and dusting them off and reviewing them whenever we got onto other trains; secretly comparing and judging. The Deccan Queen was our yardstick. And we tried to come back to her every few years to make that short trip of a little over three hours.

We moved from open windows to glassed-in air-conditioned comfort and we recalled nostalgically the days of sticking our heads out to welcome the cool breeze as we crossed the Western Ghats or hastily hiding our food when we came to Monkey Hill — which probably got its name because of the large simian presence around the railway track. Many generations of monkeys are still there — ever ready to snatch something from the unwary, ever eager to accept offerings brought specially to appease them.

Recently, after at least a decade, we travelled on the Deccan Queen again. The sepia photographs that had hung inside showing significant moments from the life of the train were missing and the bare sides seemed cold and unwelcoming. There were no familiar faces to wave to, no old friends to catch up with.

We looked out — but the windows were glazed over, almost like the old lady had a cataract to obscure her vision (and ours). The view was definitely not as clear as we recalled. Some of the magic was missing — was it because she was ageing or was it because we were?

And then, just as the rumbling began in our tummies, the food service began. Along came an avuncular attendant with a tray with tea and coffee that he proceeded to hand out as if he had no intention of taking any payment for it. It was just like we recalled! We could hesitate, we could take our time, we could neglect to order — he would be back with a couple of ‘extras’ just in case we got tempted later. Some things had not changed! And despite serving so many, he would return unerringly to us as we neared our destination to collect the money for what we had consumed.

We reached on the dot, as always. We emerged from the train, still fresh, not wilting. The journey seemed to have gone too fast. We wished to prolong it just a bit to hold onto that special spark — a combination of the aura of the Deccan Queen and the effort of those who work with her. Definitely the royal touch!

Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.