Recently I had the opportunity to avail an Indian Railways service where I got almost everything right. I had a confirmed seat, reached the station in time, the train was dot on time, i got into the assigned compartment and reached my destination without circumambulating the peninsula. Why should this be surprising, you may ask. Well, there’s a backstory to it, a metamorphosis if you will, from my M16 to M55 days (with an F24 co-passenger). Age & maturity dawned late on this traveller even as IRCTC’s on-time performance ensured not all my journeys go to script.

My love affair with Indian Railways has been totally one-sided thanks to my indiscretions. It started in early childhood; the annual summer vacation to “native place” was the most eagerly awaited event in my calendar. I am told kids these days dream of X Box, Playstations & fifth generation fighters. I dreamt of greasy, sooty steam locomotives. My discovery of India started with wooing a TTE neighbour for “emergency quota” and ended with a pre-dawn arrival at Palakkad Junction, covered in black soot. Till Metroman Sreedharan tunnelled through the Konkan region, the 36-hour journey from Bombay to Kerala was a South India tour of sorts.

The “Madrassi” came of age when he was declared “selected” for the 76th course at National Defence Academy (NDA) by Selection Centre (South), Bangalore. The second class free railway warrant issued by 12 SSB was duly exchanged for a third class “unreserved” ticket on Udyan Express. Upon arrival at ‘Majestic’ station (Bangalore Central), I was sucked into the whirlpool of humanity & swept like a twig in a flash flood into a third class “western style” toilet. My co-passengers from the hinterland quickly battened down the toilet. This was the ‘Tatkal scheme’ equivalent those days.

Unbelievably, travel by train toilets was a valid mode of transport then (true even today i am told). Since i was decently dressed & of small frame, the two bhaiyyas from up north decided my posterior would fit properly into the wash basin, while they took turns on the Western Commode seat. For some reason, pax kept pounding on the door we had barricaded from inside. The excitement of having secured a seat in NDA compensated for the rest of the smelly journey.

In less than two months, I returned from NDA after tendering my resignation, this time by the ‘Asiad Bus’ service from Pune to Bombay. Next year, I was back in the Naval Academy in rustic Goa where getting a decent ride from Vasco to Bombay or anywhere up north was no less adventurous than Vasco-da-Gama’s voyages.

Our term breaks were a modest affair. The academy gave us a railway warrant and literally threw us under the patri to manage the rest. There was no ‘NDA special’ or fancy send offs. Miraj Junction en route from Goa to Bombay was our Normandy Beach where we had to capture the unreserved coach & designate it “military bogey” with white chalk. Stories of that journey can fill a book; I have seen it all, including size XXL cadets in drill boots with horseshoes fall off the luggage rack onto the steaming mass of humanity below, only to be given instant “kambal parade” by the hoi polloi from rural Maharashtra.

By the time i got commissioned as a young subaltern, there was a fair chance of getting AC reservation on the railway warrant or form D, provided one did not make cardinal mistakes. That’s when I established my credentials as a habitual offender.

Waltair, now Visakhapatnam, proved to be my Waterloo. Given its unique location on the Indian Railways grid, my trains of interest used to pull in/out of this junction at the most unearthly hours. Both Up/Down Bombay-Bhubaneswar Konark Express crossed at Vizag wickedly at about the same time, a subject of much confusion, especially if one’s senses were sabotaged by the warm send-off arranged by coursemates.

So when it was my turn to go on “part of annual leave” to my native down south, my shipmates decided to embalm the “pure vegetarian” with Beefeater gin. A teetotaller was assigned to drop me off at Vizag railway station to catch the 0030 departure. A pier head jump into the 2AC bogey of Konark Express standing right on platform 1 was achieved with military precision just as the train pulled out with a screech.

When I hauled my heavy bags to the designated berth, a middle-aged man, his shirt buttons straining against a bulging belly, was snoring loudly on the ‘side upper’ berth. I had to give a few jabs in his side lower to wake him up. Big Bertha Appa Rao got up with a start, had one look at my ticket & broke into uncontrollable laughter. I had gotten into the Bhubaneshwar-bound Konark Express with an AC 2 Tier confirmed berth on the Bombay-bound Konark that was hiding just behind on PF No. 2! All the Beefeater gin in my blood evaporated faster than my confirmed berth on a train speeding in the opposite direction.

When I was dating Madhuri in 1996-97, my travel itinerary resembled a golden quadrilateral, stretching between Agra, Bombay, Vizag & Palakkad. Any opportune long weekend was spent in rolling stock. At times I even managed to get reserved seats in AC coaches. But all it took to relegate me to my third class aukat was a coy request from Madhuri: “Tussi na jao. Can you stay for one more day please?” And lover boy KPS was back to performing ‘Balancing Bhim’ on the luggage rack.

You would imagine that by now I would’ve learnt my lessons. Heck no. My wedding was planned with six months notice, about as much time as Gen Sam Manekshaw got to prepare for 1971 war. Leave, warrant, reservation, DSOP final withdrawal — I managed to secure it all.

On the appointed journey day, my coursemates insisted on a customary bachelor party. The Alleppey Bokaro Express had an 1145 departure from Vizag. The on-time performance of this train was a popular joke those days; delays were often counted in days, not hours. That was enough motivation, if any was needed, to test the envelope once again. This time, i had teetotaller Broto assigned as my wingman & Rapido captain.

Our hosts Venky & Sujana had made elaborate preparations, including an elaborate brunch & copious amounts of Vijay Mallya’s brew in the chiller. Vizag was sweltering hot in May & the mood was kind of “ula la la la leyo” if you know what it means. Hours slipped by in the sylvan setting of Amzari Park. Broto nudged me a few times as the train’s scheduled departure time approached. In return, we cracked loud jokes about Bokaro Alleppey Express and popped a few more beers. His repeated pleas to at least check the train’s actual ETA fell on deaf ears. Finally, after much cheer & hugs, bachelor boy KPS was tossed a few times into the air to the tune of “he’s a jolly good fellow” & handed over to Rapido captain Broto. He pursed his lips & muttered in utter angst “you guys are incorrigible”.

The 30 minute ride to Vizag station with two heavy bags and pockets full of “Defence Service Officers Provident Fund final withdrawal for urgent domestic requirement” was uneventful. The station seemed beseechingly calm, empty and peaceful. The first porter we ran into confirmed Broto’s worst fear. The train had an on-time arrival & departure that day! We were 30 minutes & two seconds late. Broto facepalmed & slumped to the ground.

The rest of the journey was completed in familiar cattle class with half a buttock parked on the extreme corner of a luggage rack while I guarded my stapled bundles of currency notes from spilling onto the heads of passengers lining the deck below.

How time flies! I started writing this blog when 12954 August Kranti Tejas Rajdhani Express left Surat. In a few minutes, the train will pull into Borivali. I must get ready, count my pieces & park myself near the exit lest I find myself in Mumbai Central. I am too old & unfit to travel on luggage racks & there’s no F24 waiting on the other side either. Ciao! May your journeys always be comfortable & fulfilling! Vande Mataram & Vande Bharat to you!

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© Copyright KP Sanjeev Kumar, 2025. I can be reached at realkaypius@gmail.com or on my X (formerly Twitter) handle @realkaypius. Situations described in this story are representative & not to be emulated. Consumption or possession of alcohol is prohibited on Indian Railway trains.