An Adventure On The Tracks

Missing trains over a delicious dinner, a special ride on a goods train, and a case of misplaced luggage and misnamed coaches make for a memory worth a chuckle.

Travelling by goods train is a punishable crime. Few people would have had the rare lifetime experience of travelling by good train. My friend Venkat and I had that rare adventure without being jailed.

Embarking on a journey by train can be an adventure, but little did I know that our experience would turn into a tale of unexpected twists and turns, echoing the real-life drama of the Bollywood movie "Sholay" starring Sanjeev Kumar, Dharmendra and Amitabh Bachchan or Rajesh Khanna and Zeenat Aman from the movie "Ajnabee".

Our expedition began with an official trip to Chennai, involving a meticulous reconciliation of accounts with a consignment agent, who owed us a couple of crore rupees. However, the return leg of our journey would become a nightmarish escapade filled with suspense, mental agony, and an unforgettable adventure. Choosing to break our journey at Vijayawada, we boarded the Bokaro Express on June 30, 1991, at 1:30 am. In those days, the train did not have air-conditioned compartments; the only respite was the first-class compartment.

Little did we know that our plans would take an unexpected turn at Titlagarh station. The attendant informed us that due to a changed timetable starting on July 1, the train would halt at Bolangir station from 9 pm and depart at 0:30 hours on July 1, following the new timetable. We seized the opportunity to have dinner in Bolangir town and walked 150 meters to a newly opened Punjabi Dhaba. The dhaba was quite decent, and the Punjabi food was delicious.

Our adventure took an unexpected turn when, after finishing dinner, we received the shocking news that the train was leaving. Desperate, we raced to the station, but the train had already started moving. Shouting "Roko, Roko," we ran after it for about 50 meters along the track before giving up. We had a successful free treadmill test if you call it that.

We were damn worried about the suitcase containing the official records. We went to the Station Superintendent, panting, and shouted at him, "When your Station Master said there is no way that the train can leave before 0-30 AM, how did you allow it to leave at 10 pm?"

He spun a tale of passengers breaking the furniture, locking them in the bathroom and forcibly taking the train, exaggerating the situation to higher-ups.

He said, "Sir, we are helpless. If you like, I can put you on a goods train leaving in 15 minutes, which will reach Sambalpur by 5-30 AM. "Which bogie were you in, Bokaro coach or Tata Coach."

I said, "We don't know."

"Was it at the rear or front?

"Rear."

"It's Bokaro Coach." He picked up the phone, called Sambalpur, and asked them to unload our luggage from Bokaro coach and that we would come and collect it.

With no taxis available in that remote district, we had no option but to accept his offer to board the goods train. We were asked to sit in the second engine and not to touch the control panel. The driver, Rao, helped us navigate the situation. During the journey, he even stopped the train to show us the Bokaro Express at a station, providing us with a glimpse of what we had missed, but it moved on before we could reach.

Venkat stood like Clint East Wood, holding the iron pole, enjoying the summer breeze. I sat on the steel seat and dozed off. We reached Sambalpur at 5-30 AM and were shocked to be told that all the passengers in the Bokaro coach were from Chennai, and our luggage wasn't there. Then it dawned on me that what was a rear bogie became a front bogie at Visakhapatnam and that we were actually in the Tata coach.

A series of calls and realisations led us to Rourkela Station Master R.P. Singh, father of my son's classmate in St Paul School, who assured us that our luggage was safe and guided us on the next steps.

After facing several obstacles, we finally boarded the Nagpur Tata passenger train. The Travelling Ticket Examiner (TTE) came and asked for our tickets. After checking, he said, "These tickets are invalid; you didn't get them endorsed for the break journey." I narrated our woes, and he took a sympathetic view and allowed us to travel.

When we reached Rourkela, R.P. Singh warmly welcomed us," Come, come, Mr Ramana, your luggage is unloaded and kept there safely. Please check. When I reached the office, my assistant told me you called last night.

Puzzled, I said, "I thought I spoke to you last night."

"Oh! No, that was my assistant, JP Singh; I am RP Singh."

Our luggage was intact, except for half a dozen Bananas and a packet of Visakhapatnam's famous Peda. We took it philosophically -- "Sweets distribution for getting back our luggage safely."

The journey, marked by unexpected events and a sleepless night, taught us to approach challenges with resilience and a sense of humour. Even today, the memories linger, reminding us that sometimes, real life can be stranger than fiction.

As for my friend Venkat, the fear of missing a train midway still haunts him during his travels. Despite the challenges, he has forged a successful path. He now owns a tax consultancy firm in Chennai after a stint at GE as Director of Finance.

Cover image courtesy the author: “Photo of Venkat and I taken during his visit to us after 30 years of that adventure. Venkat is 20 years junior to me and at 60 he regularly takes part in 15 km running events in Chennai.”

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