There is no other soul left on the deserted platform. , Photo credit: Getty Images/iStockphoto
IT is a small town station with only two platforms, but it is on a main railway route, and most trains stop reluctantly for two minutes. The computer-programmed station’s announcement sounds disjointed, as though it is a collaborative effort of several people contributing one word at random to form a sentence. The announcement of trains coming “soon” is a triumph of hope over experience.
Apart from arriving late, trains stop just a kilometer before the station waiting for signal clearance. The arrival time of my train is 9.30 pm, but I realize that the crowd on the platform is for two other earlier trains which are several hours late. My train will come much later.
I see people anxiously scanning the horizon for their vehicles. The tired, defeated crowd settles down on benches, but remains alert for the sound of a train, if not in sight. The occasional jolt on the platform gives hope of the train’s arrival, but the completely metal luggage-trolleys on iron wheels become trundles, scaring bystanders.
Finally, at around 10.30, two trains are seen thundering onto the platform at short intervals. All the passengers run and board the train. However, these are not the trains I am waiting for. The trains leave and an eerie silence descends on the platform. I look around and am surprised to find that there is nothing less than a mass evacuation, and not another soul left on the desolate platform.
I am the only passenger at the AC coach arrival point. In the distance, I am watching intently an elderly policeman wearing a muffler. Then, tapping and dragging his wand just for sound effects, he comes over to where I’m standing in a poorly lit area and kindly advises me to move to a better lit area for safety. I look around: yes, it’s a little lonely here since a quarter of the night. He says that my train is always late by two hours and it is a bit risky at this time of night as there was a mobile phone snatching incident on this platform just two days ago. And the culprits haven’t been caught yet, but he knows their history and where they’re from, he says, spicing up his story. Then just to pass the time, he begins another long crime story, but seeing me yawning, he winds up reluctantly, wraps his muffler tightly around my face, and steps away, mobile. Leaves me unarmed to deal with snatchers. Luckily, the night is incident-free.
At quarter to midnight, without any announcement, my train arrives stealthily. Making announcements from one person at the station is clearly not cost effective. The train’s scheduled stop is only for two minutes, and I imagine the clock ticking while trying to open the AC coach door only to find it locked from inside and rush around to help open the door No TTE. The passengers inside seem to be fast asleep, having secured their coach from illegal entry – and against my legal entry too, it appears. A minute and a half of panic by me banging on the door causes a bleary-eyed passenger to open the door from inside when the train starts moving. I staggered in, tossing my stuff around, relieved, but enraged at the sheer irresponsibility of whoever locked the door. TTE should ensure access till all passengers at all stations have checked in and been accounted for.
The TTE appears much later, and nods intelligently like a disinterested onlooker while I narrate my ordeal. Keeping the door open seems to be a new concept. He clings to sympathy when I tell him two things could happen: I could fail to board the train and my phone could be taken away.
If both were there, the policeman at the station would have another story to tell.
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