It was the summer of 2000, and having already dug my heels in the world of mud-logging, I got the dreaded phone call to head for yet another job assignment. It's then that one comes to realise what a wonderful place home can be; Goa was one such place. For me, it was 'Adventures on Indian Railways' unlike some of my arguably wiser college mates who were working in the comfort of their hometown vulcanising MRF tyres, processing Nestle baby food or were at best spending relaxing afternoons in the mundane but air conditioned marine research labs.
I remember this once, having to start my journey in Panaji, I had to travel to Hubli first thing early morning from the KTC terminus by Kadamba bus. KTC short for Kadamba Transport Corporation which was the name of the state owned bus company in Goa...quite an imaginative name given that this corporate body was run by dis-interested babus hired by the Goa government...must be something to do with the fact that in Goa private operators have even fancier names on their buses.
These blue and white Kadamba buses had become a symbol of hope and relief when seen in neighbouring states compared to the ubiquitous red colour State Transport 'ST' Buses of Maharastra and Karnataka. Goans and others in general appreciated their TATA designs for their larger windows allowing more breathable air into the bus.
I had to then catch a train from Hubli for my journey onwards. Amravati Express in those days would depart Hubli at 1:30pm in the heat of the afternoon sun and chug all night to reach the next day at Vijayawada early morning at 05:30am.
I had to then catch a train from Hubli for my journey onwards. Amravati Express in those days would depart Hubli at 1:30pm in the heat of the afternoon sun and chug all night to reach the next day at Vijayawada early morning at 05:30am.
So then, after grunting up nearly 2000 feet over the sahyadri mountains the Kadamba bus reached Hubli at 12:30 noon. I got straight into a rickshaw and headed for Hubli Railway station. The station area of Hubli is mildly confusing; when you arrive, there is a dull building on one side which is actually the railway station and then there is another majestic building upfront, that has a more alluring grandeur that gives travelers an impression that it actually might be the station.
As the train departs Hubli, the first impression one gets is heading into this vast plains of nothingness...flat grasslands as far as the eye can see...any active radar homing missile will be baffled by the featureless deccan plateau around these parts.
It had been less than an hour that day since the train had departed and I was planning to lie down on the berth to delve into some reading, when suddenly a familiar face walked past in the gangway and on spotting me, stopped and retraced backwards. It was 'Eddie' from my college days, grinning from ear to ear...he didn't seem as pleasantly surprised as me cos he had been actually looking for me and then with his charateristic loud laugh said, "...seen your name on the passenger list". He was talking about the printed list of passengers posted besides the entrance to the compartment for people to check their seat allocation, also used by desperate romantics to check out their potential chances of sitting next to a favourable future partner.
Working for the same company as mine, he too was headed for his next assignment and then he proceeded to pour over me his gems of wisdom at work, love and life in general. At around 07:30pm at Guntakal station that evening, we bought pre-packed egg biryani, the only station on this route which has some decent food. Funny how trains on the Konkan Railway route on the Mumbai Delhi line or the Mumbai Pune routes have all lots of interesting eats that come round the compartments every so often but many trains in southern India don't seem to have this tradition.
"Can you only think of eating !?!" was a stern response one moustachioed man from Andhra once said to me when I brought it up...I presume snacking is considered as a form of vice unless it was at mealtimes around here.
We then went to bed on our berths thinking of the perils of the next 1 month that would be spent on some remote idyllic rice fields of Godavari districts intruded upon by the horrible ONGC land rigs.
On arriving at Vijaywada station, scrambling across platforms was the only way to grab a decent seat on the Ratnachal Express bound for Vizag. This popular train is the telugu equivalent to the Deccan Queen running between Mumbai & Pune. In the early dewy mornings of Andhra, the train rolls out of Vijaywada at 06:20 am with a steady pace reaching Rajahmundry at around 08:30 am which is the oil city in the Krishna Godavari Basin...the rich oil and gas province of Andhra Pradesh in eastern India.
Eddie woke me up next morning with a kind of whiny tone in his voice...I asked him whether we had reached, I was a bit surprised to see daylight through the windows, normally Vijaywada arrived well before daybreak on my previous trips...maybe it was the winter days then...
The next morning the train had already stopped when I woke up, the chaotic chatter of people at a railway station was missing & persistant rain was still dripping through the window shutters outside but we hadnt guessed...we were nowhere near Vijaywada, Eddie found out on making the inquires, we had stopped at Dronachallam station...a small station in Andhra Pradesh but still far west of Godavari...the heavy rains had flooded the tracks and the train could go no further...I thought of the worse things ahead...still grimey from yesterday's travel, no shower, no decent meals, no change of underwear for god knows how long ! Not for a moment I did think of a poor chap who might have been waiting on the rig in Andhra for his relief to go home.
Alongwith other passengers we got out of the station and walked about in the muddy slush in the small market square and then walked back to the train as there wasnt anywhere else to go. The train after about an hour or two trudged back to Hubli. On the train I had this pleasant but mad thought option of heading back to Goa citing this mishap as an excuse for not turning up.
On talking to the local wise men on the train we decided to take the wiser decision to get off at Guntakal which happens to be a major junction for trains criss crossing the vast deccan peninsula. Trains from Mumbai to Chennai, Bangalore to delhi and hyderabad all go through here. Somebody advised Eddie, the best option was a train called Prashanti Express from Bangalore to Hyderabad passing later that night.
We decided to camp at Guntakal waiting room all day, showering in the spacious bathroom that had no doors but was deserted anyway. By late afternoon we were fed up of each other and took to strolling around by ourselves through the small leafy tree lanes of Guntakal town which was smaller than the total area of the station.
That evening the crowd that built up for for the train turned into a stampede like war refugees, the boys from Panaji who thought no end of ourselves were outdone by the scruffier and rougher boys from Andhra & karnataka who managed to get best places in the general compartment.
we just about squeezed into the train, it was one of the worst nights in the general compartment amongst equally smelly & dishevelled co-passengers, sat on old newspapers crouched up against bags had a very unrested slumber the whole night...throughout the night I just tried to make sure I didnt loose sight of Eddie who had unintentionally blended in with the rest of the crowd.
Very glad to arrive at Secunderabad station next morning on the banks of the river Krishna with Hyderabad on the other. Another place in India I could tick off as 'had been' we looked outside taking in as much as we could. Caught a familiar train to Rajahmundry on which I had never been before, called the Konark Express. Familiar cos I had always spotted this train in the evenings during my stay in Pune where my college hostel was very close to the eastward heading railway track from Pune Station. Runs from Mumbai to Bhubaneshwar and takes a snaking route across Andhra pradesh for want of a more direct route.
The train seemed pretty empty on its run from Hyderabad to Bhubaneshwar so we made ourselves comfortable in the Sleeper berths, lazing and reading all day we pretended to be fast asleep when the Ticket examiner passed by who didnt seem to be interested in us at all. Guess the objective of the train beyond this point is to just reach Orissa.
That evening as the train chugged along the 3km long rail-road bridge on the Godavari flood plains to Rajahmundry station, I realised there was no escaping yet another trip to the Paddy fields of Andhra in the metallic portacabins of ONGC.
