1 Part 1

"See Babu, that's the boundary of the so called IIT Kharagpur", my Badsha mama tried to surprise me.

"Hmmm", I replied after sitting up on my berth from my half-sleeping posture, without being much wondered, which was perhaps a bit lesser than my mama thought of.

The Howrah-Mumbai up Geetanjali Express almost stopped at the country's longest platform and I was looking outside with the same glee as if I was seeing everything for the first time, but although I ran through this station, Kharagpur for a couple of times earlier while going to Ahmedabad, where my Lilly aunt lives since her marriage.

"Imagine Babu, if you could get admission in IIT, how nice it would be. But now you're going to such a place to study, I won't have any chance to get your any trace", Abba sounded low, with a serious face, taking a cup of tea in his hand.

Meanwhile, the train departed from KGP, and I was wondering, what my father actually wants- my better future made with my own wishes and endeavours, or a future over which he would have a good grasp by hook or by crook. I didn't put much attention in his words because most of the times he talks such dispiriting, and most of the times they are pretty common and expected. So it didn't shake me at all, rather I tried to enjoy the rocky beauty of Jharkhand outside. I couldn't but remember about Bibhuitbhushan Bandopadhyay, the eminent Bengali masterpiece, mostly well-known for a unique style of exemplifying the rural and natural beauty of Bengal-Bihar-Jharkhand. As the train was running, as if, all his creations were being exhibited in a lucid and lively way around. I was remembering my elder sister with a mournful heart, thinking that, how much she would like to eye all those, but she was not with us that moment. She hugged me at the time of our parting and none of us knew when we were going to reunite again. It was really a moment of deep sorrow. Rimu, my middle sister, with whom I mostly had all my physical fight of my life through out, didn't hug me, but I could see the tears dripping over her smooth cheek. Truly speaking, I was recalling her memories more than any other thing at that moment, with watching the outer nature, filled with an eye-soothing green splash. The sun was at his lowest culmination, the moon was almost clearly visible with her celestial white attire and it was a lovely falling afternoon of the planting rainy season. My mama was sleeping as he always does, but in time of travelling by train only. My father was also sleeping, forgetting to remove his glasses, as he always does in time of any kind of travelling, except that of by his own scooter. My mother was constantly awake with her sound presence beside me. Probably it was the first time when I was seeing my mother, wearing a salwar, instead of a saree.

"Study well my son. Don't forget where you belong. Don't forget your late grandfather's legacy. Don't get trapped in any bad and wrong association. I have heard a lot perilous about that place, so always be very very careful about yourself and your moral characters. I don't know how will I survive at home without you. I'll be very tensed all the time", Maa released all her worries at a stretch, "will you like to have some fruits?", she added at the end.

I didn't disappoint her by denying her request, neither I embarrassed her by giving a short remembrance for how many times she had been telling me the same thing since the journey had started. Rather I felt to have a little slumber, as the surrounding was being comfortably cooled by the beginning of the evening amidst the landscapes of the rocky mountains, and laid down over her lap, inserting the ear-pods in my ears, as I had mobile, my own, newly bought mobile phone in my pocket. "Don't overuse the mobile", my mother lovingly warned me and she was saying many things as well, but I fell asleep, without being able to listen to her.

"Babu, get up, it's Rourkela", Badsha mama called me, "Let's have dinner", he woke me up. One of my Apaa's friends, Rittwik da, works as an electrical engineer, somewhere in Rourkela, I remembered. Well, as my father was with me, I didn't opt for eating anything on my choice at dinner. Giving a difficult but very meaningful smile to my mother, I just sat very close to her, and very naturally she got understood what I actually needed. She took out all the food-boxes from her bag and I started enjoying them one by one very peacefully, until my I heard my father's voice, "Babu don't eat too much non veg."

"Ah, let him eat na, you eat yourself. Do you want something?", Maa just bowled him out and I really felt so much proud of her, and then, for a safer atmosphere, I moved near to Badsha mama and finished dinner without any encumbrance.

"When I used to work at Bombay, I never missed to have a cup of tea at Bilaspur while the journey. I'm telling you, nowhere you'll get a better taste", Badsha mama was happily retrospecting his era of enjoyments.

"But it'll be past midnight, when we'll be reaching BSP", I sounded little anxious, "No, no, nothing to worry. You'll get the tea at any hour there. It's geographically a very important railway station and you'll find it always awake", he assured me.

"Babu, you'll never forget us na? Always remember that you are our everything", he really became very emotional while having the tastiest tea at Bilaspur. "Are you mad mama? Why do you think so without any reason? Don't you know me, how am I, hmm?", I drove out all his meaningless fear. "Well, can't we get to smoke, throughout the whole journey?" I asked him with a real seriousness, after throwing the paper-cup, finishing my tea. "Hush! What are you talking about? Don't even think of anything like this. Well, we'll try to take a chance when we'll reach Igatpuri", he almost pulled me into the train.

"Wasn't the tea very tasty?" mama asked me with a triumphant smile. "Oh yes. Hmmm. Really nice it was", I readily added a little fuel into the flame of his sky-kissing enthusiasm about the tea of Bilaspur. Although, to be truthful, the tea I used to have in Chawlpatty, at our Tarakeswar, was much better I felt. But I didn't tell him. What was the need even to let his spirit down! " But at our times it used to be tastier you know!', he said suddenly. What could I say? I smiled a lot, but indeed, hiding from him. "Chalo, let's sleep. We'll have a grand breakfast at Nagpur, tomorrow morning", mama wished good night to me.

I was not in a mood to sleep. I was just thinking, how were people sleeping in the night of inside a running train! Couldn't anybody just peep out, or press the face against the interlaying spaces of the window of the train, and just feel the cold, heavenly breeze! Sometimes the train was running, trembling its whole structure, sometimes it was almost completely retarded, and such diversity of its motion, though very childish to feel anything about, but seemed to be very interesting to me. I kept on putting effort to view the outside nature, by penetrating the unfathomable darkness, and unknowingly, somehow I fell deeply asleep without having any guess about the time of that hour of the night.

"Mama, when shall we reach Nagpur? Is the train running late?", I started immediately after my slumber broke. "Do you think, the train will remain stopped for you?", Maa said sarcastically with smile. "Ah Babu, we just left Nagpur a couple of minutes earlier. I called you so much but you didn't wake up. Go, brush your teeth. We're waiting for you. We have to have breakfast", Badsha mama patted  me very softly. I went to washroom with a heavy heart. Damn it! I couldn't wake up!

"Badsha, call Tanveer. We should let him know about the time we're going to reach", my mother asked mama, after having lunch. As far as I knew, Tanveer, Mr. Tanveer Raza, who set up in Mumbai, was the second elder son of Mr. Anwar Raza, who came to my mother's place in search of some work in his age of around fifteen. I knew Mr. Anwar Raza. He is a man, exceptionally with full of life and a real hardworking soul, irrespective of his age. So, by relation, Mr. Tanveer is my maternal uncle, and we were supposed to stay at his place for a day or two after reaching Mumbai.

Meanwhile, we reached Nasik past the afternoon. Abba was telling stories about the fame of grapes and pomegranates, produced from here. He was saying, there was somebody in our village who was once returning home from Bombay. In the way, the train stopped suddenly, very near to one vineyard and as the train got its stoppage prolonged, everybody started running towards the vineyard and started plucking grapes as they could and were coming back to the train. That guy, after a long hesitation, decided to have some taste of the famous grapes, and once he came down, he heard whistle of the train. He was eventually in the middle of the train and the vineyard and he couldn't but run back to the train. No doubt, it was a sort of funny incident and we all enjoyed it more or less. I was being mesmerized by the monsoonal view around. The wet grassy landscapes, the peaks of the mountains where the piles of clouds were appearing to be juxtaposed, the wavy motion of the long grassy leaves beneath the rocks, the sprinkling of raindrops inside the train-compartment, their deposition over the tips of grasses and leaves, which were looking like crystals or pearls in the dooming daylight, and the running of the train underneath some caves or tunnels by inviting the daybreak, all of those, as a whole was creating an unimaginable and unbelievable natural sublimity. At those moments I was thinking only about the all time best brainchilds of Keats, Wordsworth, and of many other classics. The hymns of Tagore were being proven so true at each turning of the train and etcetera, etcetera.

"Get your things packed Babu. We are near to our destination", my mother broke my webbing of poetic thoughts. "Now! There are still some hours left", I tried to deny her all along, by acquiring some route-knowledge through internet. "Do you know that in Bombay, the trains don't even stop properly at the platforms? You'll be inside only and the train will leave your destination without making you realize!", Abba tried to scare me in such a tone, as if he was a daily passenger of Mumbai suburban region for many years.

"Okay, Babu, call Tanveer mama. Ask him where should we get departed", mama told me suddenly. "Me! Why me! Maa, why don't you have a talk with Tanveer mama? He's like your brother!" I tried my best to avoid mama's proposal. "Ah Babu, why are you making a fuss about it? Just call him na!", Maa handed her phone over to me.

"Hello mama, assalamwaliqum, it's Minhaz speaking. No, no Minzu speaking

"Waliqumassalam Minzu, where are you? Well, listen, get dropped at Kalyan, not CST.

"Why Kalyan? I mean why not CST? We have crossed Nasik about an hour ago.

"No, actually, from Kalyan, our way will be easy. Understood? Your train is in right time ya? Okay, I got work. Call me thirty minutes before reaching Kalyan".

I told everybody about the conversation, though I couldn't understand that how would we know what could be the time thirty minutes earlier from reaching Kalyan!

Whatever, we packed our things and we reached Igatpuri. And the moment we reached, I looked at mama, he glanced at me and we concurrently said, "We will be back". "Where are you going Badsha?", my father asked with a wrinkled forehead. "Actually here, the train's engine either gets removed or added. I'll just show that to Babu". And we didn't wait for a reply. And after that we had hardly five minutes for smoking and we ran up to the last end of the platform. We smoked as fast as possible and in between that, mama kept on saying repeatedly, "Babu, if a policeman catches us, we're finished. And how will I show my face to your Abba?" "Ah mama, let me smoke a little peacefully please. Nothing's gonna happen", I readily stopped him from worrying every time. After a couple of minutes, we found the train, taking run-up, and we fled, though I was hesitating, saying that, "Should we waste this much amount of the cigarette, remaining?" But mama didn't listen to me at all and we caught the train without much difficulty. "Oh, where did you go?", Maa interrogated. "We were inside the compartment long ago. We were standing at the door", mama managed aptly. I didn't know why, Maa smiled looking at me, and the same I did and fortunately enough, Abba missed to see us that moment. I felt relieved.

Finally, at about 2030 hrs, we reached Kalyan. Tanveer mama was there. He took us to Mumbra ( i.e. where he lives) by local train. He asked about the address of my college. We reached his home. My father released a sigh of relief, as he got the scope of smoking finally, above everything, but I and Badsha mama looked at each other and chuckled. It was achingly raining and we all got drenched. After reaching home, we all took bath and refreshed ourselves and we met all at the dinner table. Tanveer mama's wife cooked many things for us, and all of those were really mouthwatering. My father, though he hates the most, but was asking very keenly for the availability of beef in Mumbai. Tanveer mama gave me a bowl of a semisolid stuff, which tasted sweet. Later I knew that it was custard.

When Abba went to sleep, I went out of the house with Badsha mama for a hustle-free smoking. Tanveer mama stays at a petty and lower-class Muslim colony. I knew not, which time it was according to the Muslim calendar, but people were screaming and that was only how they were appearing to enjoy amongst themselves. Some were drunk and behaving weird. I had never seen such things in my life and I expressed my disgust to Badsha mama. He said with a bright smile, "It's Bombay. Here you'll commonly come across which are unseen to you yet. But always restrict yourself from getting indulged into those. And Babu, promise me that you'll never drink, because that will definitely end you up". "Er, mama! Are you mad or what? How can you even think of mine having drink! No! Never!" I strongly gainsaid. "Yes I know", mama touched my right shoulder. And we went back to sleep. We were really tired.

Finally the first night of my life in Mumbai, turned up before me with all her glory. I looked at the sky in search of the moon, and I failed because there wasn't any. I closed my eyes with a smile.

(to be continued)