|
A train may seem to
the casual traveller just a means to journey to-and-fro but to the
men who lived life in pursuit of goals high and praiseworthy, it
became a means to achieve that very end
The powerful
dramatic visual situations — scenes moving as if in a
kaleidoscope made all the difference. They became statesmen in their
own right, they found solutions to hitherto insurmountable problems.
They became leaders of men, of downtrodden humanity.
As I researched to
delve deep into the thoughts of leaders who shaped the destiny of the
country, I found myself helpless before their words and expression. I
decided that the reader must not be denied the pleasure of reading
what they wrote in their own hand as they interacted with railway
trains of their times.
Each leader used the
railway train distinctively in his own way. Mahatma Gandhi initially
used it as an instrument to know the strengths and weaknesses of the
country, to learn of the plight of Indians under colonial rule, and
later to wage a relentless struggle for freedom through his
criss-cross journeys. Jawahar Lal Nehru read and thought during train
travel. Perhaps the shape of modern India took form in his mind
during his various travels. Sardar Patel discovered the strength of a
railway system, which could be used to evacuate refugees from their
miserable situation. Whatever be the purpose of such statesmen, train
travel gave them a maturity of thought, and trains willingly became a
pliable mechanism for the furtherance of noble deeds.
GANDHI
The
Turning Point: “On the seventh or eighth day after my
arrival, I left Durban. A first class seat was booked for me.
The
train reached Maritzburg, the capital of Natal, at about 9.00 pm.
Beddings used to be provided at this station. A railway servant came
and asked me if I wanted one. ‘No,’ said I, ‘I have
one with me.’ He went away. But a passenger came next, and
looked me up and down. He saw that I was a ‘coloured’ man.
This disturbed him. Out he went and came again with one or two
officials. They all kept quiet, when another official came to me and
said, ‘Come along, you must go to the van compartment.’
‘But I have a
first class ticket,’ said I.
‘That doesn’t
matter,’ rejoined the other. ‘I tell you, you must go to
the van compartment.’
‘I tell you, I
was permitted to travel in this compartment at Durban, and I insist
on going on in it.’
‘No, you
won’t,’ said the official. ‘You must leave this
compartment or else I shall have to call a police constable to push
you out.’
‘Yes, you
may. I refuse to get out voluntarily.’
The constable came.
He took me by the hand and pushed me out. My luggage was also taken
out. I refused to go to the other compartment and the train steamed
away. I went and sat in the waiting room, keeping my hand-bag with
me, and leaving the other luggage where it was. The railway
authorities had taken charge of it.
It was winter, and
winter in the higher regions of South Africa is severely cold. My
overcoat was in my luggage but I did not dare to ask for it lest I
should be insulted again, so I sat and shivered.
I began to think of
my duties. Should I fight for my rights or go back to India, or
should I go on to Pretoria without minding the insults, and return to
India after finishing the case? It would be cowardice to run back to
India without fulfilling my obligation. The hardship to which I was
subjected was superficial — only a symptom of the deep disease
of colour prejudice. I should try, if possible, to root out the
disease and suffer hardships in the process. Redress for wrongs I
should seek only to the extent that would be necessary for the
removal of the colour prejudice.
So I decided to take
the next available train to Pretoria.”
In
India: “Before settling down, I had thought of making a tour
through India travelling third class, and acquainting myself with the
hardships of third class passengers.
It
was necessary to equip myself anew for the third class tour. Gokhale
himself gave me a metal tiffin-box and got it filled with sweet-balls
and pooris. I purchased a canvas bag, worth twelve annas
and a long coat made of Chhaya wool. The bag was to contain
this coat, a dhoti, a towel and a shirt. I had a blanket as
well to cover myself and a water-jug. Thus equipped, I set forth on
my travels.
In travelling third
class, I mostly preferred the ordinary to the mail trains, as I knew
that the latter were more crowded and the fares in them higher.
Third class
compartments are practically as dirty, and the closet arrangements as
bad, today as they were then. There may be a little improvement now,
but the difference between the facilities provided for the first and
the third classes is out of all proportion to the difference between
the fares for the two classes. Third class passengers are treated
like sheep and their comforts are sheep’s comforts.
The indifference of
the railway authorities to the comforts of the third class
passengers, combined with the dirty and inconsiderate habits of
passengers themselves, makes third class travelling a trial for a
passenger of cleanly ways. These unpleasant habits commonly include
throwing of rubbish on the floor of the compartment, smoking at all
hours and in all places, betel and tobacco chewing, converting the
whole carriage into a spittoon, shouting and yelling, and using foul
language, regardless of the convenience or comfort of the fellow
passengers. I have noticed little difference between my experience of
the third class travelling in 1902 and that of my unbroken third
class tours from 1915 to 1919.
I can think of only
one remedy for this awful state of things — that educated men
should make a point of travelling third class and reforming the
habits of the people, as also of never letting the railway
authorities rest in peace, sending in complaints wherever necessary,
never resorting to bribes or any unlawful means for obtaining their
own comforts, and never putting up with infringements of rules on the
part of anyone concerned. This, I am sure, would bring about
considerable improvement.”
Discovery
of truth on train: “Mr. Polak... came to see me off at the
station, and left me with a book to read during the journey which he
said I was sure to like. It was Ruskin’s Unto This Last.
The
book was impossible to lay aside, once I had begun it. It gripped me.
Johannesburg to Durban was a twenty-four-hour journey. The train
reached there in the evening. I could not get any sleep that night. I
determined to change my life in accordance with the ideals of the
book. I translated it later into Gujarati, entitling it Sarvodaya
(the welfare of all).
I believe that I
discovered some of my deepest convictions reflected in this great
book of Ruskin, and that is why it so captured me and made me
transform my life.
The
teachings of Unto This Last I understood to be:
1. That the good of
the individual is contained in the good of all.
2. That a lawyer’s
work has the same value as the barber’s, in as much as all have
the same right of earning their livelihood from their work.
3. That a life of
labour, i.e., the life of the tiller of the soil and the
handicraftsman, is the life worth living.”
Woes
of and comments on third class passengers: “The woes of
third class passengers are undoubtedly due to the high-handedness of
railway authorities. But the rudeness, dirty habits, selfishness and
ignorance of the passengers themselves are no less to blame. The pity
is that they often do not realise that they are behaving ill, dirtily
or selfishly. They believe that everything they do is in the natural
way. All this may be traced to the indifference towards them of us
‘educated’ people.”
Travel
to Kumbha Mela: “This year — 1915 — was the year
of the Kumbha fair, which is held at Haridwar once every twelve
years. I was by no means eager to attend the fair, but I was anxious
to meet Mahatma Munshiramji who was in his Gurukul.
The journey from
Calcutta to Haridwar was particularly trying. Sometimes, the
compartments had no lights. From Saharanpur, we were huddled into
carriages for goods or cattle. These had no roofs, and what with the
blazing mid-day sun overhead and the scorching iron floor beneath, we
were all but roasted. The pangs of thirst, caused by even such a
journey as this, could not persuade orthodox Hindus to take water, if
it was ‘Musalmani’. They waited until they could get the
‘Hindu’ water. These very Hindus, let it be noted, do not
so much as hesitate or inquire when during illness the doctor
administers them wine or prescribes beef tea or a Musalman or
Christian compounder gives them water.”
In
the Struggle for Freedom: “Before the train had reached
Palwal railway station, I was served with a written order to the
effect that I was prohibited from entering the boundary of the
Punjab, as my presence there was likely to result in a disturbance of
the peace. I was asked by the police to get down from the
train. I refused to do so saying, ‘I want to go to Punjab in
response to a pressing invitation, not to foment unrest, but to allay
it. I am therefore sorry that it is not possible for me to comply
with this order.’
At Palwal railway
station, I was taken out of the train and put under police custody. A
train from Delhi came after a short time. I was made to enter a third
class carriage, the police party accompanying. On reaching Mathura, I
was taken to the police barracks but no police official could tell me
as to what they proposed to do with me or where I was to be taken
next. Early at four‘o’clock, the next morning, I was awoken
and put in a goods train that was going towards Bombay. At noon, I
was again made to get down at Sawai Madhopur. Mr Bowring, Inspector
of Police, who arrived by the mail train for Lahore, now took charge
of me. I was put in a first class compartment with him. And from an
ordinary prisoner, I became a ‘gentleman’ prisoner.”
(Extracts
on the interaction of Mahatma with trains taken from: An
Autobiography - M.K. Gandhi.
NEHRU
In
a Train: “Friends often ask me: ‘When do you read?’
My life seems pretty full of various activities, some useful perhaps,
others of a doubtful utility. Most of my reading takes place in
railway trains as I journey to and fro across this vast land.
A third class or an
intermediate class compartment is not an ideal place to read in or do
any work. But the invariable friendliness of my fellow-travellers and
the courtesy of railway officials make a difference, and I am afraid,
I cannot pretend experiencing all the discomforts of such travelling.
Others insist on my having more than my fair share of space, and many
acts of courtesy give a pleasant human touch to the journey. Not that
I love discomfort or seek it. Nor do I indulge in travelling third
class because there is any virtue in it or principle involved. The
main consideration is of rupees, annas and pies. The difference in
third class and second class fare is so great that only dire
necessity induces me to indulge in the luxury of second class travel.
In the old age, a
dozen years ago, I used to write a great deal while travelling,
chiefly letters dealing with Congress work. Repeated experience of
various railway lines made me judge them from the point of view of
facility of writing on them. I think I gave first place to the East
Indian Railway; the North Western was fair; but the GIP Railway was
definitely bad and shook one thoroughly.
I have given up the
habit of writing much in a train. Perhaps my body is less flexible
now and cannot adjust itself so well as it used to the shaking and
jolting of a moving train. But I carry a box full of books with me on
my journeys, taking always far more than I can possibly read. It is a
comforting feeling to have books around one even though one may not
read.
This journey was
going to be a long one, to far Karachi, almost, it seemed to me after
my air journeys, half-way to Europe. So my box was well-filled with a
variety of books. I started off, as was my wont, in an
intermediate-class compartment. But at Lahore, the next day, fearful
and terrifying accounts of the heat and dust on the way weakened my
resolve and I promoted myself to the luxuries of second-class travel.
Thus travelling in style and moderate comfort, I went across the Sind
desert. It was as well that I did so, for even in our closely
shuttered compartment, clouds of find dust streamed in through all
manners of crevices and covered us layer upon layer, and made the air
heavy to breathe. I thought of the third class and shuddered. I can
stand heat and much else but dust I find much more difficult to
tolerate.
The desert is
covered with darkness but the train rushes on to its appointed goal.
So perhaps humanity is stumbling along though the night is dark and
the goal hidden from us. Soon the day will come and instead of the
desert, there will be the blue-green sea to greet us.”
(Extract
on the interaction of Jawahar Lal Nehru with trains taken from Modern
Review-August, 1936).
PATEL
The
Iron Man: “Patel did not spare even his non-Congress Cabinet
colleagues. John Mathai was one such person, who was the Railway
Minister, whose services Patel had specially secured from J.R.D.
Tata. He could not tolerate Mathai’s acting bureaucratically in
the matter of quick transport by rail of the refugees from West
Punjab and NWFP, who were awaiting ‘timely assistance to escape
from (their) sad and most desperate plight.’ He wrote to him:
‘...I find that the progress made in securing reasonable rail
communication is slow and entirely out of keeping with the
requirements... It must be borne in mind that evacuation must claim
prior and almost sole attention during the present emergency...’
(Extract
on the interaction of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel with railways taken
from India’s Iron Man by B. Krishna).
It is strange that
the thoughts which gave India its present shape took roots in the
minds of men as they travelled on moving trains. Perhaps, a point was
proved time and again that one has to live the life of a storm to
make a difference. A storm, which does not blow over, but leaves
behind an identifiable trail. I cannot but be poetic to describe such
leaders of men:
Passing storms do
not a difference make
They are those who
come and torch the earth/Captivating hearts, moving the collective
will/ Inspiring millions, they move time beyond the clock.
“My life seems
pretty full of various activities, some useful perhaps, others of a
doubtful utility. Most of my reading takes place in railway trains as
I journey to and fro across this vast land” — Nehru
Man aspires and
creates in a situation of turmoil. This agitation of the mind brings
him to a state of utmost restlessness. It is this restlessness of
spirit, which segregates the chaff from the grain, and makes a hero
out of an ordinary meek man. The impressions they gathered as railway
trains moved are still alive and vibrant
“Educated men should make a
point of travelling third class and reforming the habits of the
people and never letting the railway authorities rest in peace,
sending complaints wherever necessary”— Gandhi
| 