Sojourn Diary - I

March 2, 2007

I have just boarded a Bihar bound train. The quintessential, rustic ambience of a typical “Bihari” train is back. Even sitting in Air Conditioned coach I am sensing the warmth of the people around me. Somehow journey by flights has never caught my imagination. I always find it too cosmetic for my liking. The Air hostess or stewards never seem to effuse genuine warmth. People try to maintain a false air around them reaching a threshold of being Snooty and Snobbish. Though so far I have survived being claustrophobic, surely my resilience won’t last too long if I have to make frequent trips on Boeings.

The Air Conditioned coaches on train seem to replicate the flights but to a lesser extent. If given a choice and guarantee for a window seat, I always prefer traveling on 2nd tier sleeper coaches. The hustling chilly air that sizzles past your face when you peek out of the window gives that unbridled joy of freedom. For once even most cabined spirits and droopy eyes lit up when it encounters those violent gusts of winds sweeping across rice and paddy crops.



As the train enters periphery of Bihar dominion, the train trudges along lazily, at times crawling and meandering towards its destination.The sprawling virgin land embraces me with an open arm. The speed, or lackadaisical motion, of the train almost replicates the mood of the region and of the people. The sanguine sunshine fighting the dark smoky window of the coach lays forward an open invitation to bask in Spring Chilly morning. The vast wide fields, people giving you ample attention and ever slow moving cattle - I am back to my native place. Thank God!! That noisy metropolis crowd is a distant memory for time being. You love Bihar or you hate Bihar but you can never ignore my motherland.

March 8, 2007 ( Mid Afternoon – Evening)

Finally I got the window seat of 2nd tier coach of train bound for Lucknow. It has been ages since I set foot in North India. Ever since graduating from college, the mesmeric charm and affability of Southern India almost made me forget that there exist anything above Vindhyas. Before I scribble any further about skewed views that I carry about this Great Indian divide, I have to mention about my trip on a typical 2nd tier compartment.

A culture of nation couldn’t be better exemplified or rather seen in a better kaleidoscope than traveling in a railway compartment. Time hasnt changed since E.M Foster’s days when he wrote that masterpiece – A Passage to India. Even today any railway journey begins with minor squabble turned into ugly fight between co-passengers which in turn transforms into a strong amiable relationship even before train is half through its destination. The greatest virtue of forgiveness and tolerance is personified right in front of me. Just as the train reached a station, interestingly named Bettiah, few local passengers have boarded the train. The so called “ reserved” seats doesn’t hold any relevance if you travel in day time across Bihar or U.P. ( Admittedly I never mind that aspect, after all neither my butts are eight feet by six feet in size nor my waist size has exceeded gargantuan proportions). There is a feisty fight that has developed between the legitimate passengers and presumably some local heavyweight. But the skirmish doesn’t last even 10 minutes. Sanity is restored and both sides take their position with a grumpy face. The local heavyweight initiates the conversation and slowly the ice is broken. As the conversation unfolds and perspectives are understood, it turns out to be that both the legitimate passenger and the “encroacher” are relatives. Even Jack Robinson or Joe Bloggs could turn out to be your relative – This can happen only in an Indian train. The local heavyweight soon turns extremely benign creature, with apologies rendered from both sides and as mark of respect the “encroacher” touching the feet of the legitimate passenger before getting down in next station.

March 8, 2007(Evening – Past Midnight)

Even I have visited several places, those aroma and taste of Chiniya Badam( Fried Ground Nuts as common name) on a Bihar train lingers in my senses. Best of snacks cannot match the distinct sizzle that it sends through the taste bud especially if you complement the badams with a green chilly. To top it off, the unique voice mechanism that the vendors generate while selling this “Bihari” delicacy reverberates in my ears even days after I get over this journey. Perhaps the best marketing gimmick that I have ever seen is in Kiul Station in Bihar. There the vendors sell tea by announcing it is the “Worst Tea” he is serving. Yet customers are never hesitant to try this Kahraab Chai as it is called. Ironically if ever you have tasted the best of flavors in tea, this one would stand second to none.

The sun is setting in distant horizon as I leave the borders of Bihar and have entered U.P. I can sense slow deterioration in courtesy and affability of voice in vendors and passengers boarding the train. Call it my sketchy perception but the fact is as you move towards north of U.P. general mass seem to jettison their humility and reverence in oblivion. Somehow there is an overbearing and aggressive air surrounding their entity which is in distinct contrast to rustiness and humility of Eastern India.

I wind up my day’s chronicles with looming hand handedness of “Northies” lurking in my mind. Yet there is huge sense of excitement to meet old college friends dropping down from all parts of world in Lucknow and to attend marraige of one amongst us .It is nearing midnight I have reached Kingdom of Awadh – Lucknow.

March 9, 2007



Lucknow has changed a great deal since I visited this place nearly three years ago. The city has gone a distinct metamorphosis from semi urban to modern town. Those typical malls have sprouted in the heart of city whereas the regime has done cosmetic beautification more out of political gimmick than concern for local population. Yet the city looks beautiful in night. Best part about Lucknow is even there are modern buildings jotting famous Hazarat Ganj Chowk still you can find those old styled Tonga and rickshaw plying on main road- For a change I had an alternative to those honkings and wagglings of autorickshaw driver. The Old charm of city is still there. I took a packet of local moongfali(Another variety of ground nut) and set about strolling across the lanes of Ganj with my friend.

Taking a ride on an open rickshaw across the lanes of Lucknow is so reminiscent of Satyajeet Ray’s novel. There is no traffic jam (a relief if you are a Bangalorean), there is freshness about Spring Air and for a change you realize your pocket is not hurting at all while paying the fare. On one occasion I traveled some 10 km on local version of autorickshaw called Vikram and took out a 100 rupee note to pay the driver. My mindset was still gripped with that of metropolis town a la Bangalore/ Chennai/Hyderabad. It’s when the driver expressed is helplessness for charging 6 Rs on a 100 Rs note, I got back to my senses and realized in real India a 100 Rs note is still worth gold.

Traveling makes you wiser and aware about the world around you. Books can never transmit those unique perspectives that you can imbibe only when you see the real thing.
I wind up my day, awaiting for my batch mates who are slowly pouring in for a Class Reunion cum Marriage Function.