Ahead is a terrain surrounded by unsightly and huge boulders. , Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
At that time, Guntakal in Andhra Pradesh was not an ordinary railway station as all tracks in the Indian peninsula ran to a railway junction.
The Madras Mail of the erstwhile Bombay became active when the setting sun illuminated the terrain covered with unsightly and huge boulders. As soon as the train stopped, there was a power failure at the station.
The coffee seller went “coffee-coffee-coffee” in a deep baritone. “Vada” The seller’s voice burst like firecrackers. He let out a cadence of “Vada-Vada-Vada-Vada”, with incredible lung power, not stopping for breath!
A lone diesel engine passed in the distance. The engine sounded battle-crazed. It had done its job and will now hand over the baton to a new engine.
Immediately, my father and I got down and ran towards the end of our train. Actually, our train did not have an engine. In the distance, a gleaming diesel engine rumbled like a giant monster headed towards our train. The engine driver was sitting above the window. I waved at him. He waved back! A thrill ran up my spine. The biggest personality of the world had given the answer!
I asked my father, “Can I grow up to be an engine driver?” He said, “Of course!” That was my dream – to drive a train from Guntakal over hills and valleys to faraway Madras!
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