Name
Tutor
Course
Date
A Journey by Train
A lot of people hold a romantic fascination for trains. Even authors and artists have felt this appeal; something that Proust calls ‘the compelling melancholia of trains’ (Martin, n.p.). I distinctly remember a local train journey that I took last year to visit my village after nearly ten years. The whole trip did not take me more than three hours, but it remains imprinted in my memory as something special. Right from the moment I boarded the train to the time I finally reached my destination, I was in a state of nervous excitement.
I managed to get a seat by the window, my favorite, and instantly I got hit by nostalgia. During my childhood, I used to travel frequently on these local trains, and I would often sit at the window seat and look at the landscapes running past me. As usual, the scene outside was mesmerizing. We were traveling through the countryside, and all I could see outside for a long time were hills, meadows, forests, trees, and rivers. The train makes a distinct sound when it runs over a river bridge. Any regular traveler can easily identify it. It felt so good to hear this familiar sound again.
My reverie broke when the train stopped at the next station and the compartments began to fill up. Most of them were villagers but spanned across all ages. Soon vendors started coming in, selling eatables, bangles, watches, belts, and almost everything that you use thoughtlessly every day. I stopped one of the vendors who was selling pineapple slices and got a plate for myself. These were fresh triangular pineapple slices sprinkled with black pepper and salt. It was a typical regional delicacy.
I finished my plate and looked outside again. It was four o’clock in the evening but the sky had turned very dark. Large menacing clouds had gathered, and it was very certain that a downpour was inevitable now. I got a little concerned, for I had to travel by foot after I got off the train. My village was about a mile away from the railway station, and this time of the day there would not be many transport vehicles around. Seeing the frown on my face, an elderly man who was sitting in front of me this whole time told me that this region experienced such weather every year at this time. I told him I had to travel by foot. He asked me not to worry as nowadays motor vehicles waited for visitors till midnight. I was relieved to hear this and smiled at him. He was as old as my grandfather was.
I turned to the window again. Drops of rain had started hitting my face. I thought about shutting down the windowsill, but to my amazement, I found there was no windowsill. Rain was smashing against the windows now, and my leather jacket was taking a pounding. I took it off and put it in my travel bag. With just a tee-shirt on, and the rain and the wind outside I could feel a chill. However, it was not discomforting and still very enjoyable. It poured like there was no tomorrow. They say it rains like that nearly every other day in the state of West Bengal. Drenched vendors wet to the bones would enter the train and start selling stuff like everything was normal. With at least 50 people in my compartment, I felt like I was part of a human zoo. Noises all around, babies crying, and people arguing; it was one holy mess. Nevertheless, all of this still felt like paradise to me.
Of all the things that I’ve seen in my life, that sight of the countryside with the trees and the woods dancing with rain and storm remains in my memory as one of the most remarkable visions that I have seen. Mother Nature was in full force.
Many people had entered the train. I looked around at the people standing. I still had around 45 minutes to reach my destination. I saw an old woman standing. I thought about offering my seat to her and then realized that it would mean getting away from my carry bag. There was not much in the bag really except for some documents and credit cards. At that point, I did not want to lose any of that stuff. I knew enough to understand that these poor people in the rural areas are waiting for an opportunity to get their hands on your stuff. Hence, despite feeling a little guilty for being rude to elder people I hung on to my seat. I just looked outside the window again to get my mind away.
When I finally reached my destination, it had stopped raining but it had also turned very dark. My village had a very small railway station. I knew that the train would not stop for more than five minutes. I reached for my bag, got the jacket out, put it on, smiled at the elder man in front of me, and alighted. I saw a motor vehicle and started walking towards it. I had only gone a couple of paces when I heard someone calling me from behind my back, in fact, from the train. I turned around and saw a man waving something at me. The next moment, I panicked as I realized it was my wallet. It must have dropped from my jacket. I hurried to the train and took my wallet from the man, and thank them graciously. The train left soon after. I checked my wallet; everything was exactly as I had left it.
I was wrong about the people in the villages. No matter how much the cities develop, there is a simplicity in villages that cannot be bought with any wallet.
Works Cited
Martin, Andrew. "The Top 10 Books about Trains.†The Guardian, 20 Sept. 2017,
