There was another sentiment which had to be reckoned. My brother, with whom Mother lived for a good part of her life never wanted to take her along himself and drop her with other brothers. He used to always say to his brothers "you are a son as much as I am. If you want to come and take her, it is okay. Please do not expect me to take her along and drop at your place." The sentiment was well founded and none of us ever objected to it and whenever we were to take her along we had to come and take her. In this case it was a difficult situation. If I traveled to bring along my mother to Puri just for boarding the train it was going to be physically difficult. At the age of 94 also Mother used to walk around in the house with some support. But definitely travelling by car for about 5 hours and then boarding a train to travel for 34 hours appeared impossible. So I finally decided to request him to come and drop her at the Angul Station.
Once I was travelling from a small station in the night with reservations in 3rd AC class. The passengers did not open the door. On one side I was told the attendant was sleeping. Only when the attendant saheb gets up can one open the door. I ran to the other side tried the knob a few times, hollered, hit the door a few times and finally kicked a few times too. No one responded. The train gave the signal and the siren too. I was in panic. The train started. That AC compartment passed. Then passed another. Doors closed. The next was a II Class Sleeper the first door closed. I was almost conceding defeat. Then I found the second door open. I threw my luggage inside and caught hold of the door handle putting at the same time one foot on the door steps. Picking up my luggage I walked through the sleeper coach and then one AC compartment, then to my compartment. In a jolt I almost shook the sleep out of the sleeping attendant, hollered into his ears that he should be opening the gate for passengers. He was apologetic. But how does that help? I would have lost the train.
I explained to my brother that at the platform where the train stops only for about 2 minutes in the dead of night it is a war-like situation. I also told him how I have suffered in similar circumstances. I told him "imagine if someone does not open the door and we have to struggle with Mother with us, what will it be like". We therefore agreed mutually not to take any risk in this matter, I suggested that. "I travel from Puri. Prepare the bed and keep it ready. When at Angul station it stops I shall open the gate and pick up Mother from his arms into mine and take her inside. That is it. There will be no hassles". He agreed.
We did as decided. Puri is home to my Sister and my In-laws. I took farewell from both of them and boarded the train around 10.45 in the night. Getting inside I explained to the TTE that one passenger is to board from Angul. Then I made a bed for my Mother and waited for the train to reach Angul. Train is best when you have time at your hand. You simply lean back and look through the glass. The people, the trees, fields, ponds, villages, lights, poles pass one by one rotating like you edit a photograph on a mobile with clip, rotate. Each scene becomes a memory after sometime. You try to recapture, it just doesn't happen. You dig to the memory and it goes beyond and beyond sometimes. After sometime you are only looking at nothing but your memory.
The memory of a tough mother kept on coming to my mind. She was a mother of 7 sons and one daughter. Two of the elder sons had died - first one at the age of two and half years and the second one at the age of 16. The death of the second one had almost shattered her. She always wanted a girl child and she could have that as a twin to the youngest brother who was to bring her to the train. The other nice memory that kept on coming was my accompanying her along with my brother, elder to me by two years in her yearly trips to grandfather's place. Standing on the bus stand she would be monitoring both of us. We both were almost always her companions for several years before the younger twins were born. Her talks with father with all of us while serving food to a line of 5/6 children sitting next to father too flashed in the memory. Serving food to that aghast assembly keeping in mind what each one liked, must not be an easy job. Her toughness, especially when she caught you doing something wrong kept on coming back to the mind. Many of her younger days too became live in the mind and the whole time passed just like that. The sight of the yellow board with black letters reading Angul Station suddenly stopped the flow of memory.
I got ready to receive her. I noticed that my brother was carrying her on a wheel chair and was coming towards my compartment. Instead of handing me over, in a swift move he climbed up into the compartment, came straight to the bed and put her on the seat, touched her feet and bid good bye. Smilingly mother acknowledged and gave her blessings and bid him goodbye. None of us ever thought for a second that that could be the last meeting with her youngest son.
The journey by the trains upto Ahmedabad almost passed in her sleep only. In the station, my daughter was waiting to take her in her car. Reaching home Mother met my wife and my grandson and was very happy. Few days later early in the morning after she took bath, changed her clothes, oiled and combed her hair, she accepted a sip of lime water from me and passed away in my arms.
That was her last trip by train, so smooth and so hassle-free and memorable for me. Thank you Railways.
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