I like Trains. I’ve liked them since forever. I was about 8-years-old when I was going to travel on one for the first time. My father’s cousin, who lives in India, was getting married and we were all invited. We were to take the 6:30 AM Train from Janakpur to Jaynagar. I woke up at 4 and made sure everyone else did too.
It was just like I had expected. The Train had 13 bogies. Yes! I still remember. The outsides were shells of a rusting mix of brown and red. The seat covers were torn all across, the floor had holes you could see the tracks below from, and the Train made sounds as if a pirate ship’s rusty anchor was being unearthed. Although, it did not matter. It was a Train after all!
I clapped as we began moving. The little kid beside me smiled at me. He probably had already been on the Train multiple times as I could see his mother carrying a basket full of puffed rice and fried onions. She sold two cups of puffed rice and two Pakoras (Kachri, in Maithili) for 10 rupees every day on the Train and I wondered how lucky her kid was — getting to ride the rail every single day. Ah! I felt so unfortunate. Don’t judge me though, I was only 8.
The ride was pleasant, and I did not think much about the Train except for when the track made rhythmic clacks (ta-tak-ta-tak is what I used to say back then imitating the sound). Also, before I forget, our Train did not make the choo-choo sound like I had read so much about in my books. Instead, it was a Pom-Pom-Pooooomm. I was disappointed, but I soon forgot about it.
We reached Jaynagar at about 9 AM. We were supposed to take the Train to this place called Madhubani from Jaynagar. I had heard about how fast Indian Trains were. The Nepali Train we had taken in the morning did about 30–35 kmph. Of course, I did not know that back then. However, when I asked my Grandfather, he told me Indian Trains were 5 times faster. I was fascinated and I asked, “more than an Aeroplane?”.
“No, not that fast”, he replied.
“How much then?” a child’s curiosity doesn’t stop to breathe.
“Faster than the night buses that we took when going to Kathmandu.”
I had an idea about how fast the buses were. I had once gone to Kathmandu in a night bus where, because of passenger rush, we had to take the seat beside the driver inside the cabin. I could see the speedometer hit 90 as I cheered for the bus to hit a hundred inside my head.
In Jaynagar, however, just as we were walking towards the railway station, a man began shouting “eh Madhubani, Madhubani” from atop a jeep’s hood. Apparently, this guy had come from Madhubani to drop his family in Jaynagar and he was looking to make some money on his way back by offering people a ride. My Grandfather promptly agreed since the Train was set to leave after 2 hours. I was disappointed, but I thought to myself, “Soon! I’ll buy a Train very soon!”
After this whole event, I came back to Janakpur — in a bus this time. I forgot about trains in a few years and also how much I loved them. When I was 16, I accompanied my Grandparents to my Grandmother’s relatives’ place in Ujjain in the Indian state of Madhya Pradesh. It was a 3-day journey on the train from this place called Darbhanga in Bihar. I wasn’t interested! I just wanted the journey to be over.
After that, in 2016, I went to college in Delhi. Riding trains four times a year from Delhi to Patna became a norm. I never thought about it. It was all about ‘reaching on time’ now. I did not care about colors, sounds, or the view outside anymore. One thing I cared about now was clean washrooms on the train. And that was it!
If this is what people call growing up, I think I did just that. We never realize when things that used to absolutely amaze us, creep into the arena dominated by the mundane. Interests turn into obligation, excitement turns into indifference, and we leave a piece of ourselves somewhere along the way just as I did back when I was growing up. I went back to that city of Jaynagar several times, however, my lost delights, my fascinations, my intrigued self — it was gone!
Currently, I am sitting here at home, unable to travel because of the pandemic for almost 2 years now. I think a lot these days, about a lot of things. Just now I was thinking about the James Webb telescope while simultaneously trying to write this piece. I guess I am just trying to figure out where my fascinations went. If you were going to point out the James Webb, I don’t count that among fascinations as my interest remains strictly scientific. Well, maybe you can still call it fascination, however, I am no longer concerned about how fast it moves in orbit, or what sounds it makes. Choo-choo or pom-pom.
I read somewhere that a human being’s greatest strength is the ability to forget. However, given the nature of things I have forgotten, I do not think it is strength after all. Of course, it has helped me, a lot! But, at what cost? Did it ask me if I am willing to trade my concern about how fast trains are for being able to forget about this event that took me an excruciatingly long time to get over? Maybe! But I will never know what it would be like; being unable to forget. I talk about conscious memory when I say ‘forget’ or ‘remember’. How should I pick what’s better? Forgetting, or remembering?
But you see, this conversation isn’t worthwhile after all. Because as soon as I am done typing out this sentence, I am going to go on YouTube and watch a 3-hour video taken from the driver’s cabin as this Train makes her way through the Norwegian wilderness. Choo-Choo :)
