It was November 1981 and the Hyderabad-bound Dakshin Express was originating from the Hazrat Nizamuddin station at 8.30 pm. In my pre-marriage phase, I frequently commuted from my office in Bhopal to home in Delhi. With the Rajdhanis and their ilk not in the Railway scene then, the Dakshin Express was not the sort of a reject as it is now, but a respectable one, next only to GT Express. This train particularly suited me, as it afforded me maximum stay in Delhi. It reached Bhopal at 8 am the next morning and I could travel directly to my workplace.
After finishing the dinner packed lovingly by my mother in the train, I direly needed to have tea but the vendors were nowhere around. However, the change of tracks and buildings visible across the window meant that we were approaching a station.
The view of the Morena junction promised to satisfy my urge for tea. At the platform, there was only one tea vendor. I rushed to the spot, collected my cup, while the engine whistled. It was a two-minute halt. As the train started, I hurriedly approached my bogey but alas, the door was closed. Beating the door elicited no response, it was locked for sure! I tried very hard and shouted with all my strength. The wintry winds were especially numbing my fingers, I felt enervated and was losing my grip.
At the sinister thought of looming death, I protruded my head to extreme right as far as I could, and made a last-ditch screaming effort. This time, a couple of ladies lifted the metallic pane and noticed me. These two must have alerted others of my presence. And then the door was opened. I hurried to the train conductor at the other end of the compartment, held him fast by the necktie and cried, “Who closed the door?” The one at berth number eight, came the cool reply.
Knowing it was the conductor’s duty to ensure all the passengers were in at night hours, I yelled, “Why not you, why he?” At his comment, “You are in, safe and sound”, I vehemently punched his back. In retrospect I wonder how the conductor kept his cool at my unusually aggressive behaviour.
As I tried to relax in my side-lower berth, the man lying opposite mine asked, “Was it you beating the door?” At my counter question, “Were you listening?” he said, “I thought it could be anyone, it is dacoit area.” I flared up, “The person in this berth is missing, and you thought it should be someone else!” He dug his face into the woollen blanket.
Early morning, when he was narrating my ordeal to the co-passengers, many of them said in unison, “We were also hearing someone screaming.”
Harish Barthwal
Email: teenbarthwal@gmail.com