Diwali Station And Night Train A True Story

Diwali Station And Night Train

During my college days, I spent my summer vacations in Dehradun, where my grandmother lived. I would say goodbye to college in early May and return sometime in late July. Deoli was a small station, about thirty kilometres from Dehradun, where the dense jungles of northern India begin.

By the time the train arrived at about five in the morning, the entire station was bathed in the dim light of electric lamps and lanterns. In the dim light, the forest across the railway tracks was difficult to see. What a train station, just a platform, station master's office and a waiting room. There was also a tea stall, a fruit cart and some stray dogs at the station. The train would stop for only ten minutes and then cover the dense jungle.

I never understood why the train stopped here. No one had to get up or down here. There was no fence on the platform. But even so, the train stopped here for a full ten minutes. Exactly ten minutes later the guard's whistle would be heard and the train would leave. And then the Diwali station would be far away.

I always wondered what would have happened behind the walls of the station that would have happened in that ten minutes and I would not have known. I feel sorry for this deserted station and the surrounding area that no one ever comes here. I decided that one day, just for the sake of this place, I would land here and spend the whole day in the adjoining town.

I must have been about eighteen years old when I first passed by here on my way home. When our night train stopped here, as usual, suddenly a girl selling baskets appeared on the platform. It was a cold evening and he had a shawl wrapped around his shoulders. Her feet were bare and her clothes were old but she walked with dignity despite her inferiority complex.

She stopped at my window. Although she knew in that look that he had failed her, she gave him the impression that he had not noticed her. The yellowish complexion, shiny hair and eyes full of pain; and then those curious and open eyes finally hit my eyes.

For a while, she stood quietly in front of my window, but when she left I could not stop myself and found myself heading towards the door. A few moments later I was on the platform and waiting for someone. I walked from the platform to the tea stall. The tea was boiling in a small kettle on the fire, but the tea man had gone inside the train to give tea to someone. The girl, too, followed me to the tea stall.

Best moment at Diwali station

"Will you take the basket?" She spoke to me. "They are very strong. They are made of the best bamboo."

"No," I replied, "I don't want to."

It was as if we had been staring at each other for a long time. Then he suddenly said, "Don't you really want a basket?"

"Let's give one," I picked up a basket from above and handed him a rupee. As I escaped, my fingers touched hers.

She was about to say something when the guard blew the whistle. He said something, of course, but his voice was drowned out by the whistle and the noise of the engine. I ran to my compartment and the train jerked off.

The platform was slipping backwards and my eyes were fixed on the girl. She was alone on the platform but stood there for a long time looking at me and smiling. She kept looking at me until the signal tower stopped us. And then the station was covered in dense jungle, but I could still see the lice standing there.

For the rest of the journey, I managed to control myself, but I still couldn't free my mind from the charm of this girl's face and her dark and restless eyes.

In Dehradun, where many other engagements awaited me, the story almost faded from my mind, but two months later, when I caught the return train, the girl threatened me again.

As soon as I reached Deoli station, my eyes started searching for him again. Unexpectedly, I found it on the platform and jumped. As I got off the train, I waved to him.

He looked at me and smiled. She was glad I didn't forget her. And I was glad he remembered me too. We were both happy and treated each other like old friends.

She did not board the train that day to sell the baskets but went straight to the back of the tea stall. Her dark eyes shone. For a while, we stood silently in front of each other, without saying anything, without hearing anything. But this silent correspondence could never be replaced by a conversation.

It occurred to me to put him on the train right away and take him with me forever. The thought of leaving a banana at the station made me dizzy. I took the baskets from his hand and placed them on the ground. He tried to hold a half basket in his hand but I pulled his hand and took it in my hands.

"I am going to Delhi," I said.

"I'm not going anywhere," he nodded.

The guard whistled again. And I can't tell you how bad he felt about me.

"I will come again. Will you meet here? ”

He bowed his head again. And as he bowed his head, a bell rang and the train began to move forward.

Releasing my hand from his, I ran towards the train.

This time during the trip I could not forget it at all. She stayed with me throughout the train journey. Every moment of this year, she was bright and dynamic in my mind. When the college closed again for the annual vacation, I hurriedly packed my things, and shortly before usual, set out for Dehradun. My grandmother was also very happy to have me with her a day and a half before the appointed time.

As the train headed towards Deoli station, panic and anxiety overwhelmed me. I didn't understand how we would meet. How should I behave? How do I talk What should I say In any case, I decided that I would not stand in front of him so quietly and helplessly that I would not be able to express my feelings.

The train stopped at Deoli station and I looked at the platform in disbelief. But I did not see her anywhere. I opened the door of my compartment and came out. She was nowhere. In a world of deep despair, I was surrounded by worries. I thought something had to be done to find it and went straight to the station master.

"The girl who sold baskets here; or do you know her?"

"No, I don't know. You better get on your train, if you can't get behind. "

I ran around the station. I peeked to the side of the railing and saw in the station yard but she was nowhere to be seen. There was nothing but a mango tree and a dirt road through the forest. ” Where does this road go? ” The question came to my mind.

 The train was slipping from the station. I had to run to the platform and run to my box.

 And then when the train picked up speed and started running in the woods, I found myself sitting by a window lost in thought.

How could I find a girl I had only met twice, who spoke a few difficult words and about whom I knew nothing, but for whom such tenderness and a sense of responsibility awoke in my heart? There was something I had never felt before.

My grandmother was not very happy when I came back because I was not going to stay with her for more than a few weeks. In Dehradun, I soon became restless and bored and one day I caught the return train. The purpose was also to get more information about this girl from the station master.

But a new station master was now stationed at Deoli station. The old stationmaster moved to another location just last week, and obviously, the new stationmaster didn't know anything about a girl selling baskets. I inquired about the girl from the skinny, pistachio-tall tea-dressed, fair-skinned woman.

"Yes, yes; there used to be such a girl here, I remember," he said, "but now she doesn't come."

"Why," I asked. Why did he stop coming here? ”

"I don't know. She was a relative of mine! ”

And once again I had to catch the train out of the station.

When the Diwali station disappears from my sight

So I intended that one day I would have to stop my trip here and spend the whole day in town and ask about this girl and find her whose glimpse of black, restless eyes blew my heart. لیاتھا۔ This imaginary project kept me in my final year of college.

 I went out for Dehradun twice in the summer and when the train stopped at Diwali station early in the morning, knowing that the girl was not to be found, my eyes began to wander on the platform in search of her.

But to know why I didn't find myself ready to break my journey and stop in town for a day and look for the girl (I thought if it was a story or a movie I would solve this puzzle). He would end the story with a proper twist. * A fear, some fears were holding me back. Maybe I didn't want to find out what happened to this girl. Maybe she doesn't live in Diwali anymore. Maybe she's married or maybe she's not sick. !

End of Story

I have gone through Diwali many times in the last few years. Every time, between hope and despair, my eyes yearn to see him smile on the platform. I still wonder what is going on behind the station at Diwali. But now I will never break my journey here. Because doing so would end my fantasy game. I would like to live in dreams and hopes. I'd like to look out the window at the deserted platform and always wait for the girl who sells baskets.

I never stop at Diwali station, but I pass by whenever possible.