The Hindu Business Line : The charm of rail travel

THERE is little charm left in train travel. New Delhi is obsessed with making air travel cheaper and comfortable while Railway Minister Lalu Prasad and the Railway Board operate trains for cattle and human beings. Anyone (mostly without a valid ticket) can enter reserved compartments after paying a tip to the Ticket Checker (if this gentleman is around) and occupy one's reserved seat by might. There is no fun going by air-conditioned coaches as one cannot stare out of the window to muse at an India rarely mentioned in the English media.

When a week ago, Varad Giri told me that tickets had been booked in Madgaon Special, one was upset as special trains run outside the railway time tables, giving way even to goods trains. Having decided to go to Amboli, one had to take the Madgaon Special at midnight. Then came back the charm of rail travel as we journeyed to Sawantwadi on the Konkan Railway. By law, a three-tier reserved coach has 75 seats but our compartment had only 15 passengers till we touched Sawantwadi. The train was running more than half-empty which was a relief as our group of five had the entire compartment to ourselves.

By habit one got up at 5 in the morning and took a window seat to see rain-splashed, green Konkan pass by. On both sides of the track, farmers were busy tilling and sowing their fields filled with rainwater. The brown of their single and two tier tiled homes mixed well with the shades of green all round and no traveller could have had enough of the hills and valleys cut up by flowing streams framed by the windows of the Madgaon Special. The TC was not sure when the train would touch Sawantwadi and one gave up making inquiries.

Around 10 in the morning the train touched Rajapur Road station and parked itself for about two hours with a stalled engine. We got out of the train to survey the empty station and had tea at a stall in the company of a few sparrows, stray dogs and an Indian Robin. We were privately informed by the railway staff (there was no public announcement) that it would take an hour for the spare engine to make its way from Ratnagiri. Most of the stations on the route are quiet and clean though at some points the first pile of plastic waste can be noticed.

The village homes of the alighting passengers are generally a short walk away though some waited for ST buses to take them into the interior. At about 3 in the afternoon we made it to Sawantwadi from where we took an ST bus going to Kolhapur for the 45-minute ride to Amboli. Then it started pouring with a strong wind driving the long threads of rainwater across our bodies. "This is Amboli for you. You will be wet and more wet but never dry," remarked Varad, as we went to our rooms in Green Palace Hotel.

For three days we walked, ate and slept in wet or half-dry clothes having run out of dry shirts and pants. On the first night one did not sleep feeling a bit alarmed at the intense buzz of rain and wind swerving past our room like F1 formula cars. Over the next two days the monsoon became a part of living at Amboli and one felt the joy of being. The pohe (aval in Tamil) served in the morning and the solkadi (coconut milk) in the afternoon at Green Palace Hotel were genuine.

On the second day, we made a trip to a Government school at the request of Mahadev Bhise and were impressed by the lab with its well-preserved collection of snakes. The Malabar Nature Conservation Club run by Bhise is helping the school to maintain the lab and Sameer was keen on checking out a specimen of a coral snake. The snake had been sighted near the school and the villagers had killed it; now it lies preserved in a jar. One waited for and enjoyed the late night chats in the hotel room. It was then that Varad told this writer, "Amboli is a favourite place for me. There is nothing like it. Every trip to Amboli surprises me by its variety. It has given me caecilians and made my job satisfying. We have seen more snakes and frogs in the last three days than in the earlier trips. Caecilians point to the good health of the ecosystem in Western Ghats."

Many in the group are regular visitors to Amboli. The return journey from Sawantwadi by a luxury bus (cushioned seats were the only luxury) was drab with the bus starting about two hours late. A couple of years ago, one had visited Sawantwadi with Paul to write about its famed wooden toys. Not much has changed with the lake at the centre of the town still intact. I wanted to buy a few toys for my young friend Siddhant but could not make it. When the bus touched Dadar one dreaded the thought of catching a local train to reach home and the daily grind.

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