NEVER EASY by Jaspal Bajwa

“It’s time,” my father’s quiet yet firm voice cut short my feeble attempts to appear busy re-checking my bags for the umpteenth time. After all, I needed to be sure I had everything I might need for the next nine months at boarding school. Leaving home was not something I looked forward to as a young boy of eight!

The car door slammed shut. I turned back for one last look, waving at the gardener and a few of my close friends from the township attached to the paper factory where my father worked. I could scarcely believe how swiftly the three-month annual vacation had melted away. Why was it that the vacation looked much longer at the outset, I mused.

Two hours later we arrived at the Howrah Railway station. It was the only one where cars could pull up alongside the main platform. A reminder of the grandeur of the British raj. This almost regal manner of boarding a train never failed to fascinate me. I looked around, straining to locate a familiar face. Clearly, we were one of the early ones. None of my school mates had arrived yet. Most of them lived close enough, just across the river in the city of Kolkata.

“Have you kept the pocket-money in a safe place?” asked my father . “And what about your keys?” added my mother. On any other occasion I would have been peeved. Not this time. It was nice to be fussed over. And perhaps receive some extra pocket-money ‘for spending on the way’. It was a good idea to stock up for the two-night journey which lay ahead to reach our school nestled in the Himalayas. I bounded across to the book stall. Never missed an opportunity to browse and savour the inviting smell of new books, momentarily helping me forget the stench of bleaching powder sprinkled as a disinfectant on the rail-tracks. Having bought some comics, I hastened back to the car winding my way through the crowd which was building up. The loud cries of the sellers on the platform reverberated all around me. The beggar with a stump for a leg, was still at the same spot where I had last seen him. Avoiding his doleful eyes, I dropped the change the book seller had given me in his outstretched palm.

As dusk settled, the crows and sparrows struck up a raucous chorus seeking out the nests they had built in the steel structure overhead. The flies and the stray dogs went about doing their business quite unmindful of the blaring car horns and the frenetic activity as everyone scurried around.

Soon enough I could spot a few of my friends. Other than a wave of the hand and a brief hello, each of us continued to hover close to our respective families. Hanging onto the magic of the vacation by a few precious moments. Even as the sounds and smells of a busy railway platform pressed in on us from all sides.

The crackling voice on the overhead loudspeakers announced the Howrah-Kalka Mail was pulling up at the terminal. Almost on cue, the entire crowd craned their necks and precariously leaned over, looking down the platform. The ground shook under our feet, as the majestic black steam engine, with maroon carriages in tow trundled by. I was glad everyone’s attention was momentarily drawn away. I fought back the tears threatening to roll down … the constriction in my throat was making it difficult to keep up the easy banter. I did not want to appear weak in front of my sisters who had come to see their big brother off.

Once our carriage was located; the coolies swung into action. Balancing numerous pieces of luggage on their head and shoulders, they wended their way deftly through the crowd towards our coach. Last minute checks. Renewed instructions to look after ourselves were interrupted by the shrill whistle of the rail-guard vigorously waving his green flag at the end of the platform. Time for the final good-byes . Silent hugs all around. Blinking away my tears, I jumped onto the carriage. Turned back for one last wave . And then we were off.

As the train slowly pulled away into the fast-gathering darkness, each one of us crowded to the windows to lean out and wave … our eyes glued to the slowly receding figures of our families .
Leaving home was never easy.

The train gathered speed and the rhythmic clickety-clack of tracks became louder. We turned to each other. Exchanging hearty stories. Very soon the lump in the throat had been replaced by gurgling laughter which comes so easy amongst friends. The spontaneous camaraderie slowly spread its warm glow. Anticipation of the adventures ahead took hold. We were like young blood-hounds sniffing the air.

We talked late into the night. Continuing long after the lights had been switched off by the teacher who was accompanying us. In the early hours of the morning … lulled by the sounds of the tracks and the occasional steam whistle of the engine in the distance we eventually slept … at home in our togetherness.

***

Having reached
… I begin
Each moment
…. A new beginning