Full Circle

Each time I let my thoughts take a jaunt down Memory Lane, I feel warmed to the core of my being as memories of some lovely times suffuse me. Chief among these are the numerous trips that I made with my two little kids and the spirit of adventure that invariably characterized most of these sojourns.

My mind goes back to that first journey we made together-me and mine; only six and five years respectively but scintillating company even in those childhood years. The destination was Calcutta.. er Kolkata (but it will always remain Calcutta to me) and the entire plan had been swung into action with great planning. Having spent a considerable part of our growing up years in Calcutta, it was a city always dear to my family. With my brother having pretty much settled there-his having been married a few months before had added to the list of reasons (‘getting to know sis-in-law’ being one of them)-there were too many factors for wanting to go there. My parents were also there with him those days, plus the little ones-who had been brought up on liberal doses of ‘life at Cal’, needed to see things firsthand. And last but not least was the ultimate attraction: the Rajdhani Express had only just started plying between our home town and Bengal’s capital and it was one big challenge to travel by this oh-so prestigious train.

But the way to happiness was fraught with hurdles; the main one being-how did one balance one’s precarious budget? Those were the days when luxury trains were few and far between, when traveling by them was a far-off (literally, as they didn’t venture anywhere even remotely near where we lived) dream, especially keeping in mind one’s pocket. The event would burn a sizeable hole in one’s modest income and redressing the balance would need a great deal of financial wizardry. Yet, despite these constraints, one’s never-say-die spirits were always on the look out for some scope. And a golden opportunity presented itself when one fine day I found a little ad peeping from an insignificant corner of the newspaper. It was inviting applications from wannabe academics for a Post Doctoral Research programme in the land of ultimate opportunities: the United States. Having, through one of those inexplicable quirks of Fate, written a doctoral thesis (may my guide be blessed for all the inspiration he provided or this would never have happened) I realized that I was eligible to apply for the same.

Not one to think too much beyond the immediate, I did so with alacrity, but was surprised into minor shock a few days later, when an impressive envelope bearing the embossed address of the American Center at Calcutta arrived. Would I, its contents enquired in no uncertain terms, please present myself for an interview on the said date at the appointed time, at the stated address? The first class train fare to and fro would be reimbursed…. Oh wouldn’t I??! Why else had I shot that random arrow in the dark if not for this glorious moment? Of course, I had never really believed that they would buy all the hogwash about ‘my academic aspirations and plans for the future’ but apparently they had. So now that the plan had worked, there was no way I would let it slip through my fingers.

Excitement was palpable in the air, the kiddos started cheering and clapping their hands in glee to express their solidarity. But all was not hunky dory and clouds loomed on the horizon as another obstacle reared its head. The spouse looked doubtful and expressed the opinion that I was getting too carried away and traveling alone with two, small children wasn’t such a smart idea after all. I won round one by using invincible logic. I said that he shouldn’t operate from the mindset where going to Calcutta had meant an overnight journey-this super fast train would take us there in 7 hours flat. It didn’t even entail travel by night, so where were all those risks he was talking about? Besides, our children were smart, responsible citizens of the world and would rise to any contingency admirably, I went on, with touching maternal confidence. And the final master stroke, to which even he could not demur, it was so prestigious to be called for interview to a Post Doctoral Research programme, had the verdict swinging in our favour.
We heaved collective sighs of relief as no further objections were raised.

Plans for the trip got under way amidst buoyant spirits. Suitcases were retrieved from under the beds (their age old resting place) dusted and the children had a field day selecting their favourite outfits (A common practice was that clothes were segregated into two categories: daily wear and party wear and such occasions naturally necessitated the use of the latter, much to their rapture) and giving them to me to pack. With a sense of relief I realized that I wouldn’t have to pack loads of food-the unappetizing and cold puri-sookhi sabzi and sandwiches, not to forget the water jug that was invariably lugged and mostly leaked through the journeys, creating singular bad blood between us and our co-passengers. These thoughts, added to the fact that we could dispense with cumbersome blankets, contributed significantly to the collective joie de vivre.

D-day dawned and my young companions and I were duly escorted to the railway station. The fact that it was an unearthly hour-4 a.m or thereabouts (we had reached the station well in advance not taking any chances) and still early March did cause us our share of literal shivers, but cuddling the kiddos close, we managed to survive. The train, when it finally chugged leisurely into the sleepy station, was more welcome than anything we could remember..

The cushy interiors, the plush seats, the soft music and the over all ambience left them speechless. Though not for long, ‘cos no sooner had the train left than began the incessant flow of queries, only the very young are adept at asking. Chief among them were when would we reach? This particular one started coming within five minutes of having started-and it soon became a refrain; coming from one kid or the other with unnerving frequency. The arrival of bottles of water distracted them and there was a brief respite. Only temporarily, though, as my son, always one with an enquiring mind (bless him!) wanted to know why the bottles had been given and I made the mistake of telling him that breakfast would soon follow. Now it was the turn of the little lady to demand-in a shrill piping voice which I was sure could be heard right through the compartment- why it hadn’t arrived till then!! Somehow, I managed to placate her and told her it was on its way and luckily, we didn’t have to wait for long. There was golden silence for a while as trying to maneuver the bread and omelet with knives and forks kept them gainfully employed. It was another matter that in his effort to slice a piece with his fork, young Saagar got too enthusiastic and it bounced right off his plate and fell neatly in the middle of the aisle, causing me considerable embarrassment, but that was the only faux pas. On the whole, they did me proud and the rest of the meal and the juice were consumed with élan.

But once done, it was back to the question hour-oh they would’ve put our parliamentarians to shame with their questioning skills!-would we also be served lunch on the train? This one came from Srishti and the hopeful-would it be non-veg from her enterprising brother. A firm 'No' to both queries put paid to all their hopes and there was a lull for some time Then a passing station caught their fancy and I was flooded with a barrage of fresh queries: its topography, population, modes of travel, schools and what-have-you: all of which I fielded bravely.

So much for childlike inquisitiveness and enthusiasm! And my role in assuaging their curiosity and answering their questions to the best of my knowledge and patience. Today, the wheel has come full circle and I do most of the asking when we travel together and my children graciously enlighten me on myriad different subjects.

That journey to Calcutta was memorable, it being a first in many fields; and also because it had materailised after so many impediments. We enjoyed it to the hilt and felt like royalty, travel as we did by the Rajdhani Express. Years and many family trips later- when planning and financing have been simplified to the click of a mouse and the punching of a credit card, I’ve realized that though we may have traversed huge distances, flown to exotic locales and touched international shores, the sheer novelty and exhilaration of the first 'luxury-train journey' with the kids is nonpareil!!!

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