An Eyewitness Account: An unexpected journey...

Yesterday was Anirban Bagchi's first day in Gulf News. He had caught the ill-fated Rajdhani from Kolkata to New Delhi en route to his first job abroad. As he writes, this was hardly the kind of journey he expected to make.

Metal twisted like pieces of paper, a compartment weighing several tonnes folded over the tracks like a cloth, another almost perpendicular to the ground, shards of broken window-panes lying all over, pieces of luggage strewn around... And a few human body parts...

In the half-light of a yet-to-break red dawn, that was what I saw as I boarded the relief train that had been sent to take us – those that were fit enough to be taken – to Delhi.

It was a sight that will remain etched in memory along with the cries of the wounded and the wails of people who still had loved ones trapped under the debris.

It was at around 11:30 in the evening. All was peaceful on board.

We had left Gaya – the first of the scheduled stops – and dinner had been served. I was with my parents in the second last car, reading a magazine as I prepared to turn in for the night.

Suddenly, with a huge jolt that nearly knocked me off my bunk, the train came to a grinding halt and I heard a deafening noise that sounded almost like thunder. Little did I know then that it was the sound of metal of the first five compartments as they registered their agonising protest at being sheered by the force of the impact while they plunged into the river below.

Everyone in my compartment remained too numbed by shock to move for several minutes. Then some of the braver people opened the outside doors. It was a pitch-dark night. We were in the middle of nowhere.

As my eyes got accustomed to the darkness, I saw a most ghastly sight: A bridge ahead had broken and two cars had plunged into the river below, one on top of the other. Three other cars had bunched up into each other, the first of them folded over the tracks like a handkerchief, the last pointing skywards at an eerie angle.

Soon a few people from the nearby villages arrived, alerted by the sound of the crash that must have echoed for several miles on the flat plains of eastern India. Those of us that were able, joined them in trying to pull out as many people as we could from the twisted cars.

After only a few minutes we realised what an impossible task it was! With tonnes of metal pressing against one another, it was well nigh impossible to gain access to most of our co-passengers, leave alone rescue them. Even so, people tried with demented energy to pull out anyone they could.

Finally, at around 2 am, help arrived in the form of a relief train that carried a team of rescuers, doctors, nurses and essential supplies. Those of us lucky enough to be in one piece boarded that train which brought us to Delhi and I survived to write about it.

Yet, it is with a sense of guilt that I type this out, of coming out of such an ordeal not just without a scratch but also with my luggage intact, while many people died and lost loved ones.

The enduring image of this accident, for me, will be the picture of a woman, trapped between two collapsed seats, holding up her wailing baby daughter for us to take to safety, when we broke through the glass of the window to reach her.