Volume 6.3 – The Night I saw India

Everything that could go wrong that night, went wrong. What was right? Written by Harsh Roy during a train journey – a not-so-strange tale of some strangers.

I narrate here events as they happened to me one night. None of them was planned for, none was expected. Yet each one of them, each smile, each eager face, each hand holding mine shows me something that warms my heart, lifts my spirits, makes me proud. Something all of us as Indians should be proud of.

The chain began at the KSRTC bus stand in Bangalore. I had missed my 1330 AC/Volvo to Chennai and I was supposed to be at Chennai before 10 in the night to board a train. With my bus gone, I was tense when I walked to the enquiry only to hear that no bus, no train to Chennai would reach in time for me to board my train. Just as despair began to descend on me another person sitting at the back of enquiry office came to me. He told me that I could board the 2:30 bus to Chittur in A.P, which would just enable me to board the 7 pm bus from Chittur to Chennai, a three-hour journey. In these calculations and inputs, two porters talking excitedly flanked him. None spoke Hindi, English but a hand on my shoulder told me not to worry, in every language. I boarded the Chittur bus, not quite the AC bus I had missed. A glance at the torn seats – not even close actually. Watching me sweat in the humid heat, the young person next to me, studying to become a priest, offered his window seat to me. Enroute we halted at a roadside dhaba. I walked up to the manager and asked for a directory so I could enquire about my train’s halts in Andhra. The fellow started “paper dosa, masala dosa, rava idli…” full speed, nonstop whole menu with every south Indian delicacy. When the Ferrari halted, I just said “not menu, phone directory?” He shook his head and we both smiled.

I boarded my bus again and as luck would have it got stuck in a jam. After sometime when nothing seemed to move, my tension began to rise. The conductor came to me and advised me to get down and walk 3 Kms down the road before taking the bypass for Chennai where I could catch another bus or hitch a ride. I started walking in the dark in an unknown Andhra village lit only by a low voltage supply. Walked into a shop and explained my position in the hope that I could still reach town to catch my 7pm bus to Chennai. The conversation was tiresome but the young lady would not give up till she had at least an idea of what I was talking about. She even kept her customers on hold. She then came out to the road with me and gave me directions to the bus stand. Just then a moped was passing by, the lady called out to the driver, a man she knew and talked with him hurriedly. She then gestured me to sit on the moped and with waving of head assured me. Even as we were leaving she kept shouting instructions to the enthu mopedwala . The dhoti-clad fellow jabbered continuously as he sped the fastest he could, of which I of course understood every word, at least he seemed to think so because of my affirmative sounds. Upon reaching the bus stand we came to know that my bus had already left. The mopedwala went around talking to other bus drivers. I had a feeling that he wanted to do a good job because ofthe young lady he got his instructions from. I told him not to worry and that I would manage. I then went into a jeweler’s shop where everyone became involved in my problem expressing doubts, offering alternatives. Finally what emerged was that I could catch the same train I was supposed to board at Chennai from a place called Renigunta near the temple town of Tirupathi. A lot of buses are available, I was told. As I walked out with the warmth of hope in my heart a person stepped out from the shop. He told me that all the buses only go to Tirupathi, none go to Renigunta, which is another 10 Kms, there is a Jeep that takes magazines and newspapers, I know the driver, he will drop you right outside the station. He told me that the Jeep would take some time and that I looked tired. He offered me dinner and said that he would tell me when the Jeep comes. That guyactually stood by the side of the road waiting while I ate in a restaurant. Feeling better, my batteries charged after eating, I found him waiting for me in the Jeep. He told me that he had explained everything to the driver and that I will not have any problem. I shook his hand and thanked him. He smiled back, clasped my arm and said good luck. The driver boastful of his vehicle’s speed told me on the way that 2 hours flat is all it would take him for the 100 Km journey. He stopped only once before a motel asking if I would like to have a tea orcoffee. Speeding past Tirupathi watching a whole crowd of head shaven devotees thronging the streets, even in the mayhem, I couldn’t help but feel a divine presence everywhere, in all of us. True to his word, the Jeep halted right outside the Renigunta station at 10 in the night. The driver refused to accept any money from me and just heldmy extended arm and smiled.

As I went into the station another shock awaited me. The woman at the enquiry toldme that my train did not make a stop at Renigunta after all. With her computer not working, she flipped over the pages of the fat Railway timetable book hunting for alternatives. She advised me to board Howrah express and get down at Vishakhapatnam next day afternoon in time to board my original train from Chennai. I bought the chaloo ticket and in waiting for a rough night ahead sat dozing against a wall. I woke suddenly to a coolie shaking me asking me to see the woman at the enquiry window.

She was calling me. When I went up to her she told me that she had looked up the entire traveling route of both the trains and that I could board my train in Gudur at 1 in the night where both the trains arrive within 20 minutes of each other. She got my original ticket cancelled and refunded me the balance.

 Even as I thought that I have had my share of good turns that night, another awaited me. I had a chaloo ticket and was not supposed to board sleeper class but the TTE listening to my story allowed me to sleep on a vacant berth. Tired as I was, I immediately slept unmindful that my station is just a couple of hours away. After what I felt were only a few minutes of sleep I was shaken up by the same TTE telling me that my station has come. He had kept awake himself so he could wake me up. After the train halted he called a coolie and told him to ensure that I board the right train. I took leave holding the hands of the smiling big man – big in heart. I finally boarded the train I set out to catch in the first place, assisted by the coolie who assured me till the time it started to leave that I had boarded the right train.

Now aboard this train I am writing the night as it unfolded before me, revealing the heart, the heart of Indians. If you remark these events as ordinary, commonplace, it makes me happier because even you think they are natural, spontaneous response of an Indian to a fellow being in need of help. I have stayed in the United States for 3 months and faced tight situations. Believe me when I say no person there, though he knows English better than you, though he dresses better than you, would keep awake for you and shout at a porter to ensure that you board the right train. That is India for you. I met some 10-12 people that night, random specimens of a random sample space, no prior relation to me and yet each one touched me with his warmth and affection. Each one had a choice to go on with their work instead of going out of their way to help me, but yet they did. No law of statistics or probability can discount this. That is India for you, the feeling I had holding the extended arm of the smiling Jeep driver who would not take any money from me.

(Harsh Roy is a 4th year student of Chem Engg who can be contacted at harsh_roy@iitb.ac.in)