After my company Infocareer’s ‘’Info Thiruvizha 2.0’’ celebrations and fun activities were over at an ECR beach resort, I dropped senior colleague Yogen Chawla at the Chennai International airport that evening. Navigating the traffic through Sholinganallur amidst extremely overcast sky imminent with torrential rain, I just mentioned casually to Noida-based Yogen that I was scheduled to take the Tamil Nadu Express the following day (Sunday) and would reach Delhi on Tuesday, December 05, 2023.
‘’I’m coming only for a day, Yogen,’’ I told him.
‘’Any special reason?’’ asked Yogen. ‘’Is this trip official or personal?”
“Personal. I’m meeting some of my Hans Raj College classmates – and a couple of them I’m going to meet in person after 1994 – so that’s 29 years!’’
‘’Nice! But do you know, I heard some trains have been cancelled due to the rains here in Chennai.’’
‘’Yes, I believe so, but the Tamil Nadu Express wouldn’t be one of them,’’ I declared with the usual confidence I had in the legendary superfast train connecting the Gateway of the South to the National Capital.
As I concentrated on navigating the heavy traffic at Sholinganallur junction, with the forced one-way due the ongoing metro construction, Yogen said, looking up from his mobile into which he’d been peering into for the past few minutes, ‘’Mohan, you’d better check. It says that the Tamil Nadu Express is also cancelled!’’
‘’The Tamil Nadu Express is also cancelled?!’’ I exclaimed incredulously.
‘’Uh huh. At least that’s what it says…’’
As I exited Chennai airport after dropping Yogen off, I wondered what to do. It looked like I would have to cancel my Delhi trip. Flights would be horrendously expensive if I tried to book at this last minute. As it was, Pradeep wasn’t coming (at least that’s what he’d declared till then), neither were Vikas or Anil. Geetika, Manisha and Neetu – all the three would positively SCREAM if I told them I wasn’t coming as well. Dare I back out? Maybe I’ll just not tell them anything and perhaps ghost all their calls / texts – similar to how people generally do when they want to avoid awkward conversations?
Anyway, I digress. Back to the Delhi trip. What on earth was I going to do? How was I going to break it to the Hans Raj gang that I was also going to opt out?
As I ascended the Kathipara grade separator around 7:00 PM, the drizzle had by now turned into the usual November downpour Chennai is famous / notorious for, depending on the way you look at it. Navigating the sharply curved exit on the left side from the flyover to descend to the direction of Guindy, I got calls from both my son Dhananjay and my wife, who gave me the tidings that the Tamil Nadu Express was in reality cancelled.
As I entered Saidapet, something made me call my go-to person for all matters concerning Indian Railways. I called rail enthusiast Arun Pandian, wondering whether he was in Bangalore or Chennai and if he would be able to take my call.
To my relief he immediately answered. Telling him my plight, I asked him what I could do and if I would really have to cancel my trip, a trip that I had planned several months in advance in discussion with my friends.
Arun, in his swift characteristic way, immediately suggested several options.
‘’Mohan don’t worry. You’ll reach!’’ was the first thing he said.
The second thing he said, however, threw me into a bit of a disarray and I had to focus on driving in the downpour to reach home, which was only a few minutes away now.
‘’You could reach Delhi through a few options. You could go to Guntakal by the Tambaram – Kacheguda Express and then take the Bangalore Nizamuddin Rajdhani from there.
‘’Or else you could go to Bombay and then take the Mumbai Central – NDLS Rajdhani,’’ was the second option he suggested. He reeled off with practiced ease several other trains that included the Tamil Nadu Sampark Kranti – most of which Arun Pandian however vetoed himself.
‘’Best would be Mumbai. Go to Delhi via Mumbai,’’ he concluded as befitting someone completely at home with giving such advice on a daily basis.
‘’Go to Delhi via Mumbai???’’ I echoed. ‘’And that too by *train*? Are you mad, Arun? And even if I agree to this crazy plan of yours, who the hell do you think is going to get me tickets at this short notice?’’
‘’Mohan, you please don’t worry about all that – let me see what all is available and I’ll come back to you.’’
‘’Yeah right. Anyway, I’m also reaching home in a couple of minutes and let me call you after that.’’
That call to Arun was the defining call for the entire trip, as I was to realize.
Reaching home, I found my son and rail enthusiast in his own right, Dhananjay, eagerly awaiting to hear from me as to what my plan now would be. I told him and Kala, Arun’s suggestion. While Dhananjay was amazed at the novel suggestion to travel to Delhi via Mumbai, Kala, true to her nature, took it fairly calmly.
Within a few minutes, Arun Pandian called again. ‘’Mohan, tickets to Mumbai Central by the Chennai – LTT Express is waitlisted, but I suggest you book it.’’
‘’Okay,’’ I replied hesitatingly, far from being sure whether I would actually do that. The concept of going to Delhi via Mumbai had simply refused to sink in. And anyway, what about Mumbai to Delhi, I asked.
‘’Go up to Dadar, go over to the Western line, take a fast local to Borivali, and then take the BCT-NDLS Rajdhani.’’
It was evident that Arun Pandian was in right earnest, and it didn’t even remotely occur to him that I was not at all finding what he was saying, the least bit convincing.
‘’Arun,’’ I interjected desperately into his suggestions, ‘’is all this really practical? Going to Delhi from Chennai via Bombay by *train*? It sounds ridiculous!’’
‘’Of course its practical,’’ he exclaimed. ‘’Why isn’t it practical? You will leave by the Chennai – LTT Superfast in the evening at 18:20, reach Mumbai the next afternoon and then take the Rajdhani that evening and reach Delhi the next morning around 10:00 AM. You’ll only be delayed by about two or three hours before and the same amount of time after, when compared to travelling by the T. N. Express. You have to admit that!’’
Mulling over that, I had to accept that that did make sense and slowly a glimmer of hope started to form.
“I have done the same thing a couple of times myself in the past,” said Arun with satisfaction which perhaps proved to be the final trump.
After some more research on the trains regarding the connectivity at Mumbai, Arun’s final suggestion was:
- Take the Chennai – LTT (Lokmanya Tilak Terminus) Express up to Kalyan, boarding at MAS at 18:20 on Dec 3rd
- Board the Mumbai CSMT – NZM Rajdhani at Kalyan at 16:45 on Dec 4th
- Reach Hazrat Nizamuddin at 9:55 on Dec 5th.
Which wasn’t a bad alternative at all, come to think of it, both in terms of the time of travel and the more importantly, the objective of reaching Delhi.
The major thing now of course, was the tickets.
As usual, Arun came to the rescue. ‘’Go ahead and book your tickets by the Chennai – LTT Express – 3AC,’’ he instructed.
‘’But it’s waitlisted 36.’’ I objected.
‘’Just do as I say. It’ll get confirmed. In the worst-case scenario, it’ll come to RAC – at least you’ll have a seat.’’
‘’Well… okay I guess…’’
‘’Kalyan – NZM Rajdhani ticket is RAC in 2AC, but 3AC is waitlisted. I suggest you book 2AC since it’s RAC and you have a full chance of getting a confirmed berth.’’
Thus, the torrentially rainy evening on Saturday, Dec 2nd saw me surrounded by Kala and Dhananjay peering into the laptop as I booked these two tickets, not without a deep sense of misgiving that it was like embarking on a wild goose chase!
However, I needn’t have worried. As Arun had foretold, when the charts were prepared the next afternoon, I had my 3AC tickets confirmed and I set out in the pouring rain into the OLA auto bound for Nandanam metro station on Dec 03. The auto captain, (surprise! surprise!) didn’t demand any extra money, even in that downpour. Reaching the metro, I heaved a sigh of relief – I would reach Chennai Central in time at any rate. What happens next, was all His will!
Incidentally, I MUST mention that the metro fare from Nandanam to Chennai Central Metro was a mere Rs. 5 that day!!!
The Chennai – LTT Express departed punctually at 18:20 hours. Most of my co-passengers were bound for Pune, a few going up to Mumbai. No one, I noted, seemed to have had the brilliant idea like me to travel to Delhi via Mumbai!
I have to say though, the Chennai – LTT Express did NOT impress with its run. The seemingly low-priority train got progressively delayed and by the time we reached Solapur the next morning, we were already more than an hour behind schedule. The non-stop run between Solapur and Pune was the highlight – I really enjoyed skipping Kurduwadi and fairly racing through Daund.
However, exiting Pune, the train seemed to lose all its steam (not that it had much to begin with, quite frankly) and it just degenerated into such a slow pace that any local passenger train would have given it stiff competition. Tension was slowly but surely beginning to mount – would I reach Kalyan in time to catch the Mumbai CSMT Rajdhani?
Khandala station was reached at 14:39 hours. The scheduled arrival time there is 13:04. So we were 1.5+ hours late. I still took comfort in the fact that the Khandala – Kalyan run for the train is only one hour and 12 minutes. So ideally I would reach Kalyan by 15:50 – at least before 4:00 PM.
However, my faith in Lord Krishna was put to severe test. At 3:30 PM, I found myself texting Arun Pandian that all his counsel and advice was probably going to go Waste (note the capital W) as I’m in all probability not going to be able to catch the Rajdhani.
”I have not even reached Karjat!” I positively wailed in my text to him.
Prayers at that instance didn’t go in vain, for eventually, after a lot of heartache and agony with regards to what I would need to do after I missed the connecting Rajdhani, I eventually did end up reaching Kalyan at 16:30 hours.
The astronomical relief I felt, just cannot be expressed in words!
Detraining on platform 7, I fairly rushed over to one of the shopkeepers at the characteristically crowded Kalyan railway station. I was told that the Rajdhani would be arriving on platform 4. Seeing that I had barely under ten minutes before the premier train arrived, I almost sprinted across to platform 4 using the fob and trying my best to avoid cannoning into fellow passengers, both local and long distance.
Reaching platform 4, I was able to breathe in ease!
Typical of Bombay and now Mumbai, I realise that local trains share the same platform with long distance trains, and never mind that those trains are even premier ones like the Rajdhani. Hence, at platform 4 in Kalyan, I watched *three* local trains stop and proceed all in a matter of ten minutes before the arrival of the Rajdhani. One of the locals was a fully airconditioned train, much to my delight. It was the first time I was seeing one!
The Mumbai CSMT – NZM Rajdhani arrived at 16:50 – about seven minutes behind schedule. What a comfort it was, to be sure, to enter the 2AC coach and find my lower berth and settle myself as the train picked up speed!
In the Chennai – Kalyan leg of my journey, I didn’t converse much with my co-passengers. I don’t think I had much inclination to, either. However, in the Kalyan – Nizamuddin section of the journey, the situation was completely different. I almost immediately was drawn into conversation with fellow travellers. One was a middle-aged lady who was travelling to visit her daughter studying in Delhi. Thanks to her, I got to have some scrumptious vada pavs which were specially delivered to her by someone known to her at Jalgaon. Another co-passenger, a young mother with a four-year-old son, was on her way to Gwalior to take her MA English Literature exams.
I asked her if she was a native of Gwalior. The city with its majestically imposing fort and history has always held a unique fascination for me. Gwalior is an important station that the T. N. Express in her pristine avatar in the 1970s had always skipped and thus giving no end of satisfaction to passengers like me who revelled as the train quickly passed through without stopping. The city also has pleasant memories; the main one being the SPIC-MACAY mini-convention held in November 1989, when I got to interact with classical music enthusiasts all over India, getting to attend a live concert of Gundecha Brothers for the first time, nightly bonfires, et al.
My co-passenger said she wasn’t exactly a native of Gwalior, but a place away from that city, called Bhind. Had I heard of Bhind?
‘’Of *course* I’ve heard of Bhind!’’ I exclaimed and the middle-aged lady seated opposite nodded in agreement. ‘’Who hasn’t heard of Bhind?!’’ I added.
“Well, I didn’t realize Bhind is so well-known,’’ she replied rather surprised.
‘’My dear madam,’’ I declared, ‘’I was born and brought up in the Sholay era. The Chambal river valley, Morena, Bhind and Shivpuri… are all legendary names that are part of the history of my growing up years!’’
‘’Oh! But all that is history now.’’
‘’Yes,’’ I said smiling. ‘’I don’t think there are Man Singhs, Gabbars and Phoolans anymore. And the fact that a young lady like you is travelling alone to Bhind with her young son, is proof, I guess that it’s become safe now.’’
‘’Yes, it’s much safer now. Actually it’s always been like that as far as I know. The era of dacoits is over.’’
I played the role of an active listener, hearing her life story, how she got married to a young Naval officer while still in the 12th standard, how she wanted to pursue her education, and how she found it near impossible to do so, staying with her in-laws (some things don’t seem to have changed in our society, I regretfully noted) and how it was all panning our favourably for her.
The middle-aged lady in turn spoke of how she eloped with her husband in Mumbai (then Bombay), with only the clothes she was wearing and nothing else, how she set up home, how both her parents and her in-laws had found it extremely difficult to come to terms with accepting her decision and their slow acceptance and how it all eventually turned out well in the end.
Time flew.
And in the midst of such interesting conversations, there was rail fanning, the breath-taking Thull ghats, and racing through Devlali, Igatpuri and finally Manmad. After having the vadapavs, as we exited Jalgaon, I moved to the door to not miss the experience of skipping Bhusaval. Skipping Bhusaval to me is like a South bound train skipping a junction like Vijayawada – something completely unthinkable. Even the Gitanjali Express in her heydays, the first commercial stop would be Bhusaval on the Bombay VT – Howrah run, after exiting the country’s commercial capital.
And that’s how I met railfan Arindam Mahapatra. I didn’t think much of it when I initially I saw him with phone on his hand, ready to take pictures.
‘’I would like to open the door,’’ I said to him politely.
I still don’t know what made him say what he did, but he said, ‘’yes, we are approaching Bhusaval, and I’m waiting for taking a video as we sweep past the station.’’
‘’Wonderful! That’s exactly what I came to the door for! I did it as we crossed Manmad.’’
‘’So did I.’’
That was it – we thereupon had a most interesting conversation. Arindam was headed to Delhi for a family function. His parents had already flown to Delhi from Mumbai earlier that day; typical of railfans, he had opted to travel solo by this Rajdhani. I asked him why he didn’t travel by the BCT – NDLS Raj, and he said he didn’t get tickets in that.
Arindam eventually sent me videos of the Manmad, Bhusaval *and* the Itarsi skips.
Nothing like rail travel to strike up interesting conversations and who knows, you just might meet someone who shares a common interest – as it happened with me, whether it was vadapavs or train themselves.
And I haven’t even mentioned the conversation I had with a traditional Mumbaikar travelling to Nashik Road, who owns a furniture manufacturing factory, who declared that she didn’t need a sophisticated CRM like Salesforce, so woe betide if I get salesy with her!
Mumbai CSMT – NZM Rajdhani eventually reached NZM at 11:00 AM, an hour and five minutes behind schedule. As a train that was running fairly punctually till Gwalior that morning, I had no idea where it got delayed on the way between Gwalior and Delhi. Anyway, All was well that ended well. I came to know later from Arun Pandian that all north bound trains had been running late that particular day. So that was that.
Detraining at Hazrat Nizamuddin, I made my way to the Sarai Kale Khan metro station as per the instructions of my niece Sadhvi. The following were her instructions:
- Pink line at Hazrat Nizamuddin metro going towards Majlis Park.
- Get down at Durgabai Deshmukh south campus station
- Take the 1km travelator which will take you to Dhaula Kuan station on the airport express.
- Once you reach Dhaula Kuan, you will have to take the airport line going towards Yashobhoomi station
- You will have to get down at Dwarka sector 21 station.
Getting off at Durgabai Deshmukh Metro Station I made my way through the massively long concourse to the Dhaula Kuan. Thoroughly enjoying the walk + travelator, it took almost 15 minutes to the station serving the Airport Express metro.
Below are some pics of the skywalk, travelator and the airport express including Delhi’s atta biscuits:
Spending a few hours catching up with cousins you’ve grown up with, is always rewarding. Excellent south Indian lunch prepared by Neeraja, plus the characteristic mouthwatering Delhi biscuits, set the tone for how the rest of the day and the evening would unfold.
As I made my way to Hotel Lemon Tree Premier to meet the gang, one thought had been running through my mind – whatever would we talk about? After all, there’s only so much of ‘’do you remembers’’ one can exchange. Some of us had met only a few years ago – others had met occasionally between themselves. Would we really have that ‘’connect’’? A whole night? Maybe booking rooms was a sensible idea – if one got bored, one could always claim tiredness and go off to sleep.
The upshot was, no one slept even a wink that night. The talk, laughter and the catching up was so intense that we decided to go down to the foyer of the hotel, where a separate dining area was cleared and made available especially for us.
Tucking into midnight snacks, we exchanged stories and life histories and updates. Some of them were truly impactful, which included fundamental lifestyle changes like transformation to vegetarianism, dramatic pre-wedding meetings and courtships, relocations to the US, relocating back to India from the US, carrying out caregiving for elderly parents and in-laws, coping with children and their various ambitions – it was basically discussion on life per se.
As the final boarding call for my flight to Chennai was announced and I made my way to the departure gate from the lounge, I wrapped the muffler Karun’s wife Bindu had thoughtfully sent for each and every one of us. Thinking back to that afternoon-evening-night-late night-early morning get-together (for the lack of a better word) till I left for the airport to catch my flight back to Chennai, the one thing that perhaps expresses eloquently what I felt and still continue to feel is this all time favourite song by ABBA:
They came flying from far away (Karun, Gaurav and Geetika and also Pradeep, Vandana and Kamakhya flying in within India)
Now I’m under their spell (always have been – Manisha and Neetu)
I love hearing the stories that they tell (everyone gathered there)
They’ve seen places beyond my land
And they’ve found new horizons (true for each one of us, from their respective journeys)
They speak strangely but I understand (*grin*)
And I dream I’m an eagle
And I dream I can spread my wings
Flying high, high, I’m a bird in the sky
I’m an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please
As all good friends, we talk all night (that’s what we did!)
There’s no limit to what I feel (or what we talked!)
We climb higher and higher
Am I dreaming, or is it all real
And I dream I’m an eagle
And I dream I can spread my wings
Flying high, high, I’m a bird in the sky
I’m an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please
Happy New Year!
Mohan Santhanam 