“Sawaari Gadi” – a common name for unreserved
passenger trains running throughout the country on relatively short routes.
Recently, I
refreshed a basic rural train journey from Muzaffarpur (the land of ‘Litchis’)
to Narkatiyaganj, a small town (best known as the hometown of actor Manoj
Bajpai), both in rural Bihar. The journey took me through small towns of Motipur,
Mesna, Pipra, Motihari, Sugauli, Bettiah and Chanpaitya among others.
At around
4pm in the evening, I hesitantly walked along an all passenger train (Sawari
Gadi) at the Muzaffarpur railway station. I was searching for a compartment
empty enough for me to board. At the same time, buzz and smell of ‘samosas’ and
maize or corn cooked over burning coal kept distracting me.
And in the
train, there was absolutely no space to step foot in. The train was full,
beaten in rush, perhaps only by Mumbai local trains in peak hours. I made a
frantic call to a relative asking for an alternate way to commute. His
experienced voiced cracked, “Hop in; the train would get empty soon.” As the
train blew up a whistle and started moving, I desperately clung to the gate and
squeezed my way inside trampling over ladies sitting near the train toilet. I
used my elbows and side movements to quickly move inside, to avoid the curses I
was being bestowed upon by the rural folks I had trampled, more than anything
else.
I kept my
luggage on the carrier rack after adjusting the strewn luggage on it. Then I
stood precariously, not sure where my feet were, reclining against a side seat.
Finding it best to blank my mind, I promptly did so and ignored frustrating
cries from within. Pleasantly I was drawn into the vast multitude of colours of
the people around me.
Incidentally
a cricket match between Sri Lanka and India was in its final stages. I could
hear the live commentary over the mobile phone of the boy sitting on the side
seat over which I was reclining. Soon enthusiastic debate over half-baked information
drawn through a DD1 telecast on a mobile phone sprung up. The mobile was
special, not only it could stream live DD1 visuals but also had an antennae
sticking out for better picture. As the train picked up speed, the signal was
lost and it was left to our imagination what made of the final ball. Each one
had their own assessment.
Having no
way to ascertain the final score, the cricket fever lost momentum and
everything began to quieten a bit. Suddenly there was a loud conversation on a
mobile.
Someone said
over the phone, “Gaiyaa ke bachra ke bagal me baate”
(It is next
to the calf of the cow)
A potbellied
uncle found this amusing and shouted over his voice, “Kaa bate bacharwa ke
bagal me” (What is it next to the calf of the cow?)
There were a
few appreciative giggles around but most found this important conversation not
worth disturbing.
Another
conversation caught my attention, this time political-
“Lalu Jadav
auri Jagannath Misheer barbaad kai dele san Bihar ke, jaat paat pe vibhajit
kaile san” (Lalu Yadav and Jagannath Mishra ruined Bihar, they divided people
based on caste).
Time passed
on thus, and daylight began to dim. As told to me earlier, the number of
passengers began decreasing. I found a seat for myself. Sitting there and
looking over, I realized the “Sawaari Gadi” was easily a vital lifeline for
local commerce. On it went back and forth the rural folk to their homes and market
places to sell their goods.
But my
journey was far from over. A man was heard saying loudly, “Ee samaan kekar
girataa”, “raur bate ka chacha”. (Whose luggage is it, falling? Is it your
Uncle?)
An elderly
voice replied from somewhere, “Haan hamare baa, thik se dhaiyi da” (Yes it’s
mine, keep it properly)
The person
sitting in front of me was anxiously looking around. At a certain station, new faces
filled in. He saw a boy with a mobile phone and asked for his battery, the
battery of the boy’s Micromax mobile. Apparently the poor man’s mobile’s
battery had gone dead. The boy offered the mobile instead. The man said he needed
to get the number too from his mobile. The boy opened up his cell and gave him
the battery.
I had left a
copy of the ToI newspaper on one of the luggage racks. I saw many browse it
over and then keep it back at its original position just the way it was. No
permission sought or enquiry made. It was used as a public property and also
respected in the way it was browsed, read and kept back.
Apparently
the train was moving fast till then without stopping midway or without stopping
at stations more than it was necessary.
“Trainwa
thik chala tia”, a passenger exclaimed. (The train is running fine)
Second
passenger added, “Haan kauno crossing na dewe ke padal haa” (Yes, there was no need
to give pass to any other train)
Perhaps this
was spoken a bit too soon. The train halted amid sugar cane fields before the
Sugauli railway station. Drawing inspiration from each-other, students in the compartment
raided the fields for all the sugarcane sticks they could carry. Then they rushed
back inside at the whistle of the train, a signal that it would move.
Interestingly
all the chewed sugarcane leftover and remains of groundnuts (peas) were thrown
inside the compartment and not outside the window. Probably a community habit.
After a
short halt at the Sugauli railway station, the train started to pull out of the
station. I bought a cup of tea from a boy tea-vendor.
The tea boy said
to me, “Jaldi paeesa dee, utare ke baa” (Give money quickly, I have to get down)
I handed
over the money when a co-passenger said, “Ego auri daa” (Give another cup of
tea)
The tea boy
promptly replied, “Naa mili ab” (Now you won't get it), and jumped off the
train.
We moved
ahead. Around that place, I spotted at least a couple of big sugar cane
processing mills and they were running. A positive change from a few years
earlier when most of the mills were nothing but sick.
Inside, I
noticed that several people, if not all, took turns to have their tobacco
shots. Each person carried a small plastic box to carry tobacco. At regular
interval, tobacco was rubbed meticulously with the first finger and the thumb
while the tobacco was held in the left hand. Then it was religiously put
between teeth and lips and the person became quiet and lost for some time. The
sales boys selling “Shikhar”, “Bahar” (forms of Gutka) and cigarette, together
with the boys selling tea did a brisk business.
All this
while there were a few people who chose to sleep on the luggage carrying racks,
(like an upper berth in a regular train). They slept their way to the destination,
oblivious to intermittent fun and frolic around. However the chill and the befalling night
made everyone numb and drowsy.
The reverie was
suddenly broken by a harsh penetrating voice, “Torch, ghadi, ghadi ka belt,
mobile phone, mobile ka cover”. (A hawker shouted- Torch, Watch, Watch-belt,
Mobile phone, mobile cover..)
The tone and
style drew instant curiosity and then laughter.
As the train
chugged on, the passengers again drifted in sleep. But the train came to a halt,
prompting many to get anxious and angry and talkative.
A person in
skull cap with a white beard and wearing an old white sports shoe broke in the
silence, talking to the man sitting next to him, he said, “Aiza khaye ke khali
chana mili Chanpatiya le, jahan tap ba Bagha, khaye ke niman samaan mile lagi”
(All you will get to eat is ‘chana’ till Chanpatiya. Once you cross Bagha, you
will begin to get good things to eat)
Getting only
a nod and no reply, he added after a brief pause, “Kul tempo wala auri rickshaw
wala johat hoiye san” (All the auto drivers and rickshaws pullers would be
waiting for us at the station).
He managed
to extract a chuckle this time. Finding a positive response, the skull cap wearing
man added, “Driver khaye ke rakhale baa engine me. Khaat jata, kaa farak padta
auri kehu khaye chahe naa khaye” (The engine driver has kept food for himself
in the engine. He eats while driving the train. How does it matters to him whether
anyone else eats or not!)
The skull
cap man then engaged his co-passenger with whereabouts of his residence.
Skull cap
man, “Chowk pe ghar bate?”
(Is your
home at the ‘chowk’?)
Co-passenger,
“Naa auri bheetar jake bate, gauwa me”
(No, it is
further ahead, in the village)
Skull cap
man said, “Bansi ji ke ghar se kenne?”
(Where is it
from Bansi’s house?)
Co-passenger,
“Bansi ji ke baad Chuki khatal se dahine”
(Right to the Chuki shed after Bansi’s house)
Skull cap
man said, “Uhe gawuan me?”
(In the same
village?)
Co-passenger,
“Abbe kahan, uhaan se auri aage, chaura ke godam lage”
(Not so soon,
further ahead from there, near the godown for beaten rice)
Then the
train chugged on and the skull cap man diligently rubbed on his tobacco.
A station,
Bettiah arrived and another set of crowd packed in.
Silence, a
bit more permanent, descended with a song playing in the back ground, “Kisi
nazar ko aap ka intezar aaj bhi hai…”
The journey continued into the night..
