Although Debeshwar is my age, he was a year ahead of me in school. He is a very kind and honest person. Perhaps that is why, during the struggles and uncertainties of my journey, fate brought him to me like a guardian angel. His family’s land borders ours. Before he got a job at the railway, I last saw him ploughing the fields. After that, we lost touch. That was around 1997. So, I met him again after almost 21-22 years. I was surprised that he recognized me even though I was wearing a helmet. Meeting him after so long made me feel good. His face showed signs of ageing—perhaps mine does too! I don’t even know how much I have changed.
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Reaching Mariani Junction, I took a deep breath of relief. I pulled out my phone and checked the time—it was 11:26 AM. I had arrived exactly on time as planned. If I had been even slightly late, I might have faced trouble because of roadblocks due to the “Inquilab Zindabad” protests.
Before filling out the necessary forms for my bike’s railway parcel booking, I had it packed. The packing guys charged me ₹650 for this service.
I had been riding my bike for so long, but that day I realized how much fuel remains in the reserve tank of a Royal Enfield. I had been riding for days without refueling, thinking I needed to empty the tank. That day, I only filled ₹70 worth of petrol.
The packers first drained some petrol from the tank into a half-litre water bottle using a pipe. Once that was full, they brought a one-litre bottle and filled that too. When that was also full, they used a two-litre bottle. In total, they extracted about four litres of petrol from the tank before wiping it dry with a cloth.
After booking the bike, I waited on the station platform for the train. Meanwhile, I received a call from Jitin Kanwar from Royal Enfield Tour Management, informing me that they hadn’t received a copy of my voter ID. So, I had to send it again. Although I had already uploaded it, I couldn’t understand why they didn’t receive it. I only had a small, basic mobile phone with me—no WhatsApp or anything. So, I used my cousin’s smartphone who went to see me off to take a picture of my voter ID and emailed it to Jitin.
Now, I had nothing to do but wait for the train. This always happens to me—if I arrive just in time, I end up missing my bus or train. But if I arrive early, the train never seems to come on time!
The wait became tedious, but finally, at around 2:30 PM, the train arrived at the platform. After bidding farewell to my brother, I boarded. I told him to check whether my bike was loaded onto the train and inform me. Since the luggage van was at the very end, I couldn’t wait to confirm it myself—it would have been difficult to return and board the train in time.
At 2:57 PM, just three minutes before 3 PM, the train departed. My brother took the petrol bottles from my bike’s tank and returned to Borhola. That day, he endured quite a bit of trouble because of me.
First Class AC—this was my first time travelling in it. I looked around the cabin, taking in everything. Until then, I had never travelled in First Class on a train. In fact, I had never even travelled in Second Class. I had never needed to.
My usual train journeys were between Titabar and Tinsukia or Margherita, and between Titabar or Furkating and Guwahati—routes that are usually travelled in General Class.
I sat alone in my cabin, staring out the window.
Until then, my longest train journey had been the educational trip from Borhola School to Darjeeling in 1990 when I was in Higher Secondary. I mentioned this in a previous section. That journey to New Jalpaiguri was so exhausting that many of my friends swore never to travel far again. Even I made such a vow.
Since I had to be away from home for quite a long time and had to cross the entire route through Nepal safely before returning home, my physical well-being was crucial. That’s why I chose to travel in AC First Class—to avoid dust and heat, which could make me sick. Another advantage of First Class is that very few people travel in it. Moreover, the passengers are usually well-mannered and educated, reducing the risk of encountering fraudsters or troublemakers.
From Mariani to Dimapur, I had the entire cabin to myself. There was nothing to do except occasionally glance out the window. My mind wandered. Leaving home and travelling far away always brings such thoughts, I suppose.
