AN EVENING WITH ANOOP JHINGRON

THIS INVITING PICTURE SHOWS a view of the Western Railway Heritage Gallery at Churchgate headquarters in Bombay. Within the gallery lie an assortment of artefacts as old the railway itself—dinner plates and spoons, stations bells, emblems, antique railway instruments, each having played a role in a bygone age that has slipped into history. Meet Shri Anoop Krishna Jhingron, the man who conceived the idea of this priceless collection and carried it to fruition. Shri Jhingron is in many ways the quintessential railwayman : tall, athletic, full of interesting stories, and with a resounding voice and forceful personality. Had he lived a few generations ago, he would have been known to us as the Agent of the BB&CI Railway. But Shri Jhingron is here with us, and is going to  

tell us about himself, his ideas and the railways he has served all his life. Since his retirement in 2008 he has lived a quiet life staying with his family in his home not far from Delhi. Although retired from service, Jhingron saab is yet to retire from life; he loves to travel, attends functions, and much of his time is spent in his personal library browsing through books, researching details in archives, and contributing to journals and periodicals. What makes him so special for us is his unflagging commitment to the cause of railway heritage and its preservation. Having authored two highly acclaimed works—one on postal stamps, the other on Western Railway Heritage—Jhingron is now working on a new project, a book titled ‘Life in Railway Colonies.’ Read on to find out more about this fascinating person, his work, and his enduring affair with the railways of India and its heritage.

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Ravindra Bhalerao: People who have met you in person are known to comment that even after having crossed the three-score mark in life, you continue to exhibit something of the personality of a sportsman—that you refuse to grow old.

Shri Anoop K. Jhingron: I used to play cricket and badminton and was a good player. I tried my hands at table tennis and lawn tennis but was a damp squib in both. I was deprived of football by the ill advice of a doctor during childhood, who wrongly suspected a defective valve in my heart and advised my parents not to let me play football. I have played cricket till as late as 2005. However my play was not good enough to be beyond club level.

        Although now I do not play games, but I love to watch games, live as well as on T.V. However I imbibed sportsman spirit and always believed in a sense of fair play throughout. I also love to interact and associate with youth. This keeps me young in spirits.

Your career with the Indian Railways has spanned several decades finally culminating in the office of General Manager of the Western Railway. It must have been an exciting, a truly enriching experience.

        My career with the railways has been an enriching and rewarding experience. I have thoroughly enjoyed my thirty seven year’s active association with railways. Although initially some of my senior colleagues discouraged me about life in railways and I had trepidations in my mind, but I have never even for a moment regretted my decision to have a career with railways.

        Railways gave me an opportunity to work at and visit different places. I have had posting in several states. I have been posted in Delhi, Haryana, Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan, Bihar, Gujarat, Maharashtra, J&K, and Jharkhand. In addition I spent about two years in West Bengal during my probation. I had varying spells of   continuous stay at different places—the longest being six and a half years at Ahmedabad and shortest being eighteen days at Jammu.

        The frequent transfers did affect the education of my sons. However once I got them admitted to Central Schools even this problem was taken care of.
        The posting which I enjoyed most were at Bikaner, Allahabad, Vadodara, and Chakradharpur (where I worked as DRM). Of course the last posting, as G.M. of Western Railway was memorable in several ways.

What made you opt for railways as a career?

        As a child I was fascinated by railways. The Howrah-Delhi trunk route used to pass very near the place where we used to stay in Allahabad. We often used to pass through the railway colonies nearby. The colonies with their beautiful and charming bungalows with lovely flowering gardens, tiled roofs and fences covered by the railway creepers definitely had a charm and attraction of their own. Many of my classmates at school were the children of railway men .I used to notice them wearing navy blue coloured coats and trousers, which they proudly used to tell ,were made from the spare uniforms of their parents. Perhaps the temptation of the dress stayed at the back of the mind.

        Opting for IRTS was a decision taken, after my selection for the central services through the IAS  examination, in consultation with several senior relatives who were working in government jobs and told me that IRTS offered very good career prospects. But perhaps the factors mentioned above also played their role.

Tell us about your boyhood days.

        I spent my boy hood in Allahabad. My father was a journalist and we used to stay in the housing area of the press from where the news paper used to be published. This was known as Leader Press. There were about fifty odd families residing, so there were a large number of children. We used to play ballgames and a lot of traditional games like hide-and-seek, gilli danda, marbles, kabaddi etc.  Now, I have lost touch with most of my boyhood friends except a few.

        At home I received lot of affection and love of my family as I was nine year younger to my brother and a sister was born when I was six years old.  My first schools were located close to our home and we used to walk down to the school. Two of my teachers I used to meet even after I grew up and worked with railways.

And you were of course fond of sports and games in those days.

        Yes. I used to play badminton and cricket, but I was not good enough to make it to the college team.

When did you first discover your fascination for trains?

        Back in Allahabad our home was close to the Howrah - Delhi line. Therefore the noise of the train particularly the whistles of different types of steam locos were a great attraction. I still remember one day we heard a strange whistle sound. We became curious about it and spent some time by the side of the railtrack waiting for the sound, Finally after waiting for an hour or so we heard the same sound and found that it was the whistle of a new type of loco hauling a fast passenger carrying train. Somebody said “It is a Canadian Engine”. We children used to call it “bhonpu wala engine” (later I came to know them as the WP class of locos). Perhaps this was the first time railways fascinated me.

        Allahabad Junction Station was also not very far from our home. My father used to often go to station to buy some magazine etc. from the Wheeler’s book stall and we often went on the platform. I still vividly recall that one day I saw the  Guard of a train, perhaps Kalka - Howrah Mail, on the platform. He was looking very impressive in his white uniform, peak cap, cross belt, and shining boots. I noticed that when he blew his whistle the train started moving. I was extremely impressed by his ‘power’ and decided that I will become a Guard, when I grow up.

        I liked to stand near the level crossing gate and watch passing trains. It was in late fifties that trains started to be hauled by diesel locomotives. Their appearance and their whistle sound was totally different. Diesel hauled trains were an object of fascination and I along with some other boys used to watch these locos almost daily.

Your parents were probably worried over this strange hobby of yours.

        When they came to know that we visit the level crossing almost daily, they were worried a little about my safety as it involved crossing two roads. They only cautioned me to be careful, but never discouraged me. 

So you finally joined the railways in the officer cadre. Your induction into the Indian Railway Traffic Service will have been followed by extensive training to familiarise you with the railways and its working.

Railway Officers Training Center,
Asansol 

        We had a training schedule of two years covering theoretical as well as practical training. When we were appointed, we were asked to report to the office of the General Manager, Eastern Railway at Calcutta. On the very day we joined, we were dispatched to Asansol. At Asansol a centralized training institute known as Railway Officers Training Center (ROTC) had been set up, due to the efforts of Mr M S Gujral, a legendary railwayman, erstwhile Divisional Superintendent of Asansol. The institute was located in a beautiful bungalow which used to be the residence of the DS. The building had been modified so as to be able to accommodate twenty odd probationers. We had been allotted different zonal railways, but had our training together.

        Our training started within a day with hands on training. In the first phase of training we learnt the job of a goods train Guard. Batches of two probationers were formed and they were required to accompany the Guards working different types of goods trains. We worked along with guards working ‘Cracks’, yard-to-yard goods trains, slow trains stopping and shunting at wayside stations, coal pilots, industrial pilots, and others.

At the Zonal Railway Training Center, Dhanbad.
Shri Jhingron seated 2nd from left ; standing 6th
from left is Mr K C Jena who rose to become
Chairman of the Railway Board, New Delhi

        In the later phases we learnt the working of yards, stations, signal cabins, goods sheds, parcel offices, booking office, etc. Initially we watched the working and later we also worked independently in these places. Some curious incidents took place during our hands on training. While working as the guard of a passenger train one of our batch mates was offered some tips (cash) after a few baskets of fish were loaded. He refused it with politeness. On the other hand when a similar situation arose with me while working in a parcel office at Raniganj, I reacted a bit strongly with indignation.

        We had theoretical training at different places. We participated in a three month long foundation course at the National Academy of Administration (now the Lal Bahadur Shastri Academy of Administration) in Mussoorie, with officers of other all-India services, including senior batch IAS probationers. We also attended two training sessions at the Railway Staff College, Baroda. The foundation course was of three months duration with officers of other railway services, and a two and a half months induction course exclusively for IRTS probationers.

        We also attended a three months training schedule at the Zonal Training Center located in Dhanbad (Jharkhand) learning different parts of railway operations.

        The last stage of our training was office training which included learning the working of Division office for one month and then Headquarters office for three months. The training schedule was a little tough but it could make most of us thorough in our work. The training had lighter schedules as well, like a visit to Kolkata, Mumbai, and the course at the NAA, Mussoorie. As part of my HQ training, I also visited Srinagar to learn the working of an out-agency.

Shri Jhingron (center) with probationers at the National
Academy of Administration, Mussoorie, in 1972

        The training at Mussoorie was thorough and proved to be very useful. Besides developing officer-like qualities in probationers, it also led to the formation of lifelong bonds with our brother officers of other services which was of immense help in our service career.

You have been a heritage buff all along. What makes railway heritage an object of special affection for you?

        Even while young, I visited several museums along with my parents . Later on my own I
visited various museum but could not find any Railway artifacts there. Once while on way to Guwahati, at Jamalpur yard, I saw what appeared to be a graveyard of steam locos. There were dozens of locos lying in various stages of disrepair, perhaps waiting to be sold as scrap. At that time I felt the need for preservation of railway heritage.  When I visited UK in late

Shri Jhingron (left) beside the Patiala State
 Monorail at the NRM, Delhi

eighties, I saw at York museum and elsewhere the importance given to preservation of railway heritage.

        Early in the 1980s while on an inspection of a station in Bikaner division I came upon an antique wall clock, on the point of disposal, manufactured by John Walker & Co. of London. I was pleased with the discovery. I salvaged the clock and had it sent to headquarters office where it is now displayed. This was my first attempt in this direction. Later when I was working as DRM at Chakradharpur on South Eastern Railway I noticed an old Narrow Gauge steam loco almost buried under ashes at a private siding. We retrieved it and brought it the Divisional HQ, repaired it and put the ninety year old loco on display. Since then it has become a sort of passion with me and I have tried to do whatever little I could do to preserve the railway heritage of our country.

Overseas, in the UK, Australia and elsewhere, heritage railways are big business. It is a pleasure to read the brochures these railways issue, telling us of regular time-tabled steam runs, holiday specials, and mouthwatering cuisine served aboard. Something of a similar kind, and maybe on the same scale could have been done here in India. Pity we are left far behind in this area.

        Oh yes, the enthusiasm about rail heritage seen abroad is really great. Not only a large number of heritage railways are being heavily patronized but even things like a trolley  drive on an old abandoned railway line or a heritage walk on the alignment of an old uprooted line are extremely popular. In Australia such railway trail heritage walks are being promoted in a big way.

        In India I have not seen a great enthusiasm for heritage in general. We have seen that a large number of heritage structures are lying without any care and are gradually decaying. In Delhi several such heritage structures have vanished during last century.

        Whatever preservation efforts are made in India they are basically undertaken by either government organisations or such organisations which are supported by government. Whereas abroad generally the efforts are being made by voluntary bodies, being run totally with help of dedicated volunteers. Hence whereas  preservation efforts abroad, particularly railway preservation, is basically a  people’s movement, in India it is not so. Hence the apathy. In addition perhaps there are so many other problems that people hardly have time to spare for finer things like preservation.

        Another unfortunate factor in India is the sad fact that rolling stock heritage has been perceived as a source for generating additional resources by way of selling them as scrap. This has resulted in loss of historical rolling stock heritage. Sindh, the loco used for hauling India’s first train was sold as scrap. Similar fate was met by the special carriages in which the ashes of Mahatma Gandhi and Pandit Nehru were carried to Allahabad for immersion at Sangam. 
        However the recent enthusiasm generated after grant of World Heritage status to the mountain railways and Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus has kindled new hopes and I see the movement picking up in India.

You have researched the heritage railways of Australia and other places. Did you come across any feature of remarkable interest on these railways you would like to tell us about?
        The best part of the heritage railways noticed abroad is that most of them are run totally

 with the help of volunteers coming from all walks of life. The only common thread running with them is the fact that they all love and take pride in their railway heritage. Services are run based on the convenience and choice of passengers. They run specials exclusively for children too. On such occasions, the steam engine is given the appearance of a railwayman called "Thomas-the Engine." On Easter and Christmas eve, festival specials with lots of fun aboard are organized. In Australia I have come across Moonlight Specials and Dance and Dine Specials. They are extremely popular and are always full to capacity. Gourmet food served on board these trains is a big draw.
        In the UK and other places, heritage railways together with their souvenir shops, museums and the trains themselves receive a lot of publicity which draws people in large numbers. Unfortunately this is lacking here in India. How many tourists visiting big cities are aware of the railway heritage galleries in Churchgate and CSTM in Mumbai, or the Narrow Gauge Museum at Nagpur, or even the regional railway museums at Howrah or Mysore? We need to learn a good deal from the methods adopted abroad.

The Fairy Queen, Guinness record holder of being the oldest working steam loco in the world was in the news recently. It is tragic to hear of someone who comes along and carries off the shiny brass dome, the steam whistle and other parts.

        I could not agree more with you. Perhaps earning a few extra bucks was a bigger consideration for the vandal. However it appears to me due to the general apathy towards our heritage.

The Western Railway Heritage Gallery in Churchgate is a miniature museum in itself. How did you manage to collect all these exhibits?

The Western Railway Heritage Gallery
at Churchgate Headquarters, Mumbai

During the course of my earlier stints on western railway I had seen a large number of artifacts lying all over the system. On western railway there were a few spirited individuals, prominent among them being Shri Chauhan , a mechanical engineer, who had started salvaging them and storing them. Small heritage galleries were also set up at different places. When we decided to set up the heritage gallery at Churchgate, I and my team visited numerous places and selected and picked up heritage artifacts and requested the local authorities to send them to HQ for display in the heritage gallery and thus the collection was built up. In this direction the contribution by the DRMs of Ahmedabad, Vadodara, Bhavnagar and Ratlam was immense.

A close-up of an artefact in the gallery

Some initial hiccups were faced in setting the gallery which led two about three month’s delay in its inauguration. The renovation of the hall took more time. At the centre of the hall a pillar stood which had plastered surface. When the plaster was removed we found layers of paint below. The layers had to be burnt to reach the original surface. But the toil was worth it. Ultimately we found the steel pillar in its original form, with a shining surface and ornate design at the top and the bottom.

        For display the logos of the former railways which were merged in the erstwhile BB&CI and its inheritor Western Railway, we had to search for a die maker who could make metallic logos. This also took a lot of time, but this also was worth it.
        A special display in the gallery is a hand grenade used during 1962 China war. It was

A steam engine model at the gallery in Churchgate

 manufactured at Western Railway’s Dahod workshop. In fact Dahod workshop manufactured the grenades for a long time. The photographs, building plans and other models and equipments put on display deserve to be viewed with interest as they unfold the story of a great railway. My only regret is that the gallery has not received right kind of publicity and is not as popular amongst visitors as it should be.

You are a Post-graduate in History. Armed with this specialized background have you ever thought of working on a book on railway history?

        My book on Western railway’s heritage does cover the history of the railway. However this is a good suggestion and needs consideration. It has been my desire to update J.N.Sawhney’s great work “Indian Railways One Hundred Years” so as to cover the next fifty years development on the Indian railways. Incidentally my proposed book on Life in Railway Colonies will be covering an important aspect of the railway’s social history.

Tell us about your book on postal stamps. Does it tell a story?

        I have written two books on Indian postage stamps. The first book “Daak Tikaton kaa Safar: Railway par Vishesh Nazar” was published in 2008. My second book is likely to be published in 2012.Both the books deal in detail about Indian stamps issued on different themes. However in both the books the evolution of the postal system, in the world in general and in India in particular has been discussed at length. Thus it does tell a story. However readers will also find several small stories and anecdotes about various themes and personalities in the books.

And now you are at work on a new project, we are told, with railway life as its theme. How exciting.

         Yes, for the past some time I have been working on this project. This is intended to cover an important aspect of the railways, namely, the life in railway colonies in India. The subject is vast and not much work has been done in the field. Hence it is a time consuming project. It not only involves research in archives and libraries but also visits to various important railway colonies all over the country. Hence the completion of the project will take some more time.

Did you ever ride the footplate of a locomotive?

        During my service span of approximately thirty seven years I have travelled on footplate of locomotives on innumerable occasions. Right from steam loco hauled freight trains working in collieries and industrial pilots to state of art electric locomotives on Rajdhani Express trains, I have footplated on numerous  types of locomotives.

How do you regard steam engine drivers? Many of us rail enthusiasts have enormous respect for these men. 
        I found the steam engine drivers of our country to be a dedicated and disciplined lot. These qualities continued with them even after they graduated from steam to diesel and later to electric locomotives.

        Steam drivers of our country loved their iron horses. There was a time when the best drivers used to have dedicated steam engines driven exclusively by their team. The engine crew would spend a lot of time seeing that their locos received proper maintainence, even spending time in the locoshed to see that enough attention was given. While on the run, the crew would devote time to oiling and cleaning their engine; and they were so punctilious that it was sometimes difficult to find even a spec of coal dust once the loco had a stopover.
        Steam locomotives hauling prominent trains were often given names. In the initial years of my service I have seen the Punjab Mail from Bombay VT to Ferozepur being hauled by two engines : Jhansi ki Rani and Veer Bundela, both belonging to Jhansi locosheds. Jodhpur shed had Vir Durgadas and Ran Baanka Rathod, and even till the eighties I have come across Hemu Bakkaal (named after Hemchandra, the general who fought Akbar in the second battle of Panipat) of Sarai Rohilla loco shed.
        These drivers were known to observe rules religiously. I remember an incident when four officers including the Chief Electrical Engineer (CEE) and the Divisional Railway Manager (DRM) were trying to board the electric loco hauling Howrah--Kalka Mail at Kanpur. The driver who was an old steam hand politely enquired, "which two of you gentlemen would be footplating with us? The other two gentleman may either go to the rear cab or to the train compartment." On the footplate of a superfast train only two people are permitted in addition to the crew. The result was that only the CEE and DRM went on the footplate and the other two officers went back to their compartment. Nowadays you rarely come across persons who would be such sticklers to rules even at the cost of annoying their superiors. My hats off to such a breed of railwaymen !

There are many railway enthusiasts who dream of the day when they will travel in an officer's inspection car. Did you go on inspection tours often?

        Normally the name Inspection Car conjures up an image of travelling in a fabulous carriage almost like saloons of maharajas. However this is far from the truth. One starts getting the facility of bigger inspection cars with better facilities only after spending a substantial part of career. In the initial years one may or may not get the facility of inspection carriages. Even if available, it may not be comfortable.

        In my initial years we were entitled to travel in small four wheeled inspection carriages. These were not capable of travelling at higher speeds and were invariably attached to either slow passenger trains or freight trains. Their riding quality was far from satisfactory and the rides were generally bumpy. Having a cup of tea while travelling was a challenging job. However, comfortable or not, travelling by the inspection carriages was often a necessity, as one had to often visit such stations or work sites where no facilities for staying or food were available. In such situations, the stay in the inspection carriage made the basics requirements easily available.

        Travelling by inspection carriages was an interesting experience. Normally the carriages were attached as the last vehicle on the trains. The officer travelling would sit at the trailing end of the carriage in front of a window and would conduct a “Window Trailing” inspection to see the condition of the track and other fixtures like signals, condition of points and crossings, bridges and the alertness of the staff.

        The inspection carriages provided to the senior grade officers are provided with better facilities, are more accomodatious and travel smoothly even at higher speeds. Some consolation for advancing age!

Speaking of inspection carriages, tell us something about station inspection. What does the job involve?
        There are various types of station inspections conducted by traffic officials. They can be categorized as surprise inspections, casual inspections, night inspections, detailed inspections, and so on.

        A surprise inspection has to have the element of surprise. Hence the inspecting official arrives unannounced at the station either by a road vehicle or by a goods train. The purpose here is to see the true condition of the work being done and the alertness

of the staff.

        A night inspection is generally conducted between 1.30 and 4.00 am, as this is the time when people generally feel sleepy. Hence this is the appropriate time to check the alertness of staff and also whether rules are being followed or not. For this type of inspection the official arrives generally by road or by goods train. During night inspections, besides the station, level crossing gates and cabins are also inspected.

        A casual inspection is conducted when the inspecting official does not have time to have a detailed check and inspects only a few selected items. A detailed inspection on the other hand is conducted at a fixed interval which may range from once a quarter to once a year. During such a type of inspection a detailed check of all the important aspects of station working is conducted. This entails inspecting the Station Master’s office, the cabins, yard, goods shed, passenger amenities, booking office, parcel office, running rooms and stores. Since this is a comprehensive check, the inspection may extend to over two or three days, particularly in the case of large stations.

       During an inspection, the official must also look into the problems of the staff working at the station and try to help them.

        Generally there are no problems of logistics in case of short duration inspections like a surprise, night, or casual inspection. However, in case of detailed inspections involving night stays at a station, such problems can arise. In such situations one either uses an inspection carriage or stays in a rest house. In either situation, meals are prepared by the attendant accompanying the official. However at such stations where either there is no facility for placement of carriage, or there is no rest house, one can stay at a nearby station where a rest house is available and make the station a base for inspecting nearby stations.

        Normally an inspecting official is accompanied by a senior supervisor, who assists in conducting the inspection and collecting various details. After the inspection, an inspection note must be sent within the shortest possible time.

We in India appear to have arrived late on the railway heritage preservation scene. What, in your view, needs to be done further in this area of endeavour?

        Even for the general public a sense of pride for our rich heritage needs to be developed. Lessons in the text books and organizing visits to places of heritage value and museums by the schools would be of help. Similar exercises could also be undertaken for railway heritage. Visits to railway museums by school children in New Delhi have been able to create interest about railway heritage in young minds.

        Even the officers of Indian railways need to be sensitized about railway heritage. Organizing courses at Railway Staff College and other institutions can be of immense help. Awareness campaigns about rail heritage can also be launched.

Ever travelled up the hills on the Nilgiri Mountain Railway, or maybe the DHR?

        I have not been able to visit the Nilgiri railways, but I have been lucky to travel over DHR, Kalka-Simla railway and Matheran Light railway, Kottavalasa –Kirandul  route, and a few mountain railways in Europe.

        Travel on these hill sections unfolds the beautiful panorama before your eyes. Travel over Kalka-Simla section with its arch bridges (reminding one of Roman aqueducts), its 100 plus tunnels, sharp curves, beautiful scenery and not the least, the lovely restaurant at Barog is a unique experience. Travelling on the footplate of a locomotive on a hill railway line can be an unforgettable experience.

One of the finest marvels of miniature railway engineering, the Darjeeling Hill Railway is regarded universally as the prettiest toy train the world ever saw. And yet this fascinating hill railway fails to attract tourists in large numbers as we might expect. Could you suggest innovations that would go to make the DHR a bustling tourist attraction?

        The Darjeeling Himalayan Railway is not only the finest example of a hill railway in India, but one of the oldest hill railways in the world. It can rank amongst the best hill railways in the world.
        Unfortunately in our country a railway line, even the DHR, is not treated as part of the itinerary of a tourist. It only means to reach the place of tourism--in this case Darjeeling. The tourists are in a hurry to reach the destination. The hill train takes much longer time to cover the distance between New Jalpaiguri and Darjeeling, whereas the road running almost parallel to the track happens to be quicker. Hence unless a traveller happens to be a diehard railfan, the road is the preferred mode of transport.
        For attracting tourists to the train, perhaps the trip time has to be reduced. Besides travel, the train should offer other attractions. Attaching a restaurant car selling tasty food items, a souvenir shop on board and better and more comfortable coaches could enhance the attraction. 
        Presently a steam hauled train runs a short trip from Darjeeling to Ghoom and back. This is able to attract tourists. Perhaps introducing one or two more such trips daily may be of help.
        Some people, including a heritage lover have even suggested that only a small portion of the DHR should be kept operational as a heritage railway and the rest may be considered for closure.

That's a good reply. To move on, how do you spend your hours of leisure ; do you read fiction, listen to music, chat with friends. . . ?

        I am lucky to have cultivated a few hobbies. Pursuing my hobbies of stamps collection, photography, and listening to music keeps me sufficiently busy. I am fond of reading. Over the years I have been able to build a personal library of about eight to nine hundred books on a variety of subjects. Besides I keep writing articles. My reading and writing habits also keep me busy.

        I travel as well. Visiting my sons, relations and others, and seeing new places takes me out on travel frequently.

You do not seem to be the kind of person who will watch movies, but I could be wrong.

        I love to watch old Hindi movies, and ever since I was in college, Devanand has been my favourite actor. Once while in university, our Professor asked us in class who was our favourite hero. I rose and mentioned Dev saab without the slightest hesitation. I have watched ever so many of these classic Hindi movies. It was my childhood ambition to meet Dev saab, but it was only some forty years later when I was posted to Bombay that my wish could come true. It was a great experience having a word with the legendary actor. Devanand offered us tea, and even presented me a signed copy of his autobiography titled “Romancing with Life.” Some years back, I even had the chance of meeting filmstar of yesteryear Waheeda Rehman at a function held in Bombay. It was a great experience.

Any parting words for the railwaymen of our country. . .
        Take pride in your work and the organization. Our railways had a great past; let there be even a greater future. Railways have been under threat on several occasions and have come out with flying colours every time. The poet Iqbal had said about India -- "Kuchh baat hai ki hasti mitati nahin hamaari, sadiyon raha hai dushman daure zamaan hamara." (there is something in us due to which our existence does not vanish despite the fact that for centuries the tide of time has been against us). The same is true of Indian Railways.

Well observed. It has been so nice having a chat with you Jhingron saab; we wish you all success, and the best in health and happiness too.

        Thank you Shri Bhalerao, I have enjoyed this chance to share my views. And thanks a lot for your best wishes.
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Pictures courtesy of Shri  A. K. Jhingron

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BANGALORE'S FIRST TRAIN

Here’s an interesting bit of history sent in by Dr A. B. Damania telling us how the railway first came to Bangalore. We are told that a dedicated Magneto phone was in use on stations in those days without a number dialling facility on it. It would be great if any such phone could be found lurking around in some museum or railway heritage gallery ; if anyone comes upon such a thing, do tell us about it. And now over to Dr Damania . . .

Bangalore’s first train had a steam engine for its loco, and ran between Cantonment station and Jolarpettai in what is now Vellore district of Tamil Nadu, beginning 1864. The first train was called Bangalore Mail and was run by Madras Railway, one of the dozen or so companies incorporated to develop a railway network in British India.

The city’s first railway link to the outside world was a meter gauge line and 149 kms long. Cantonment station, where one end of the link lay, had two platforms on either side.

The backbone of the service was not only the narrow gauge line but also the non-dialling Magneto phone for communication between stations. A dedicated line of sorts, the phone was widely used by the railways in those days and had neither a dial nor a number pad. If a user at one end rotated the handle, it would ring at the other end.

The Cantonment—Jolarpettai railway line was extended to Bangalore City station 18 years later. The earliest route catered to by the City station was Bangalore Mysore. While the Cantonment—City link was serviced by Madras Railway, the other services from the City station were operated by the Mysore State Railway. Two years later, in 1884, Bangalore City—Tumkur—Gubbi services began operating and in 1889, the line was extended upto Harihar.

Dr. A. B. Damania 

GENE BLANCHETTE'S BLOG

ARVIND BALIGA has sent in a link to a lovely site where you will find material on the Raj, as well as the Railways of the Raj . . . . Turn to the following page and enjoy yourselves:

 http://geneblanchette.wordpress.com/category/railways/

HERITAGE SHORT STORY - I

THE HOMECOMING

By Ravindra Bhalerao

(First published in abridged and modified form in Indian Steam Railways Magazine, Summer 2007.)

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Prologue

CHARLES LANSON SAT THROUGH the evening service of St Bartholomew’s Church, his heart aching and grieving and wistful. As the parson preached his sermon, Lanson’s thoughts were far away. He was thinking : why do we have to be separated from our loved ones. . .  why are children orphaned . . .  and why do people have to die so far from home, unsung and uncared for? The thoughts came in unsought; Lanson sank into despair. It was all a great mystery for which he seemed to have no answer.

Lanson was here in India in 1961 on a heritage trip, hoping to find the place where a great aunt of his lay resting. He had grown up in England, the son of a corn merchant, living in the West Norfolk countryside. All his life, he had no reason to suspect he had a distant ancestor who had lived in India. Then one day he received a call from a remote cousin who said he had received information which gave him reason to believe that they had a distant ancestor, a great aunt named Isabel Thorpe, who was orphaned at an early age and was taken in by Brampton Children’s Home south of London.

Lanson set about making enquiries at the children’s home and various other quarters. By the end of the month he had succeeded in establishing that his great aunt after leaving the care of the children’s home, had gone on to study further, finally taking a degree in medicine. He followed up the trail making enquiries at the college where she studied. In the college archives, Lanson was shown a published medical thesis bearing the title: “An Investigation into the Traditional Medical Remedies Practised in the Indian Subcontinent.” The thesis was dated 1922 and was the work of Dr Isabel Thorpe, M.D.,  working under the supervision and guidance of Dr Edward Martin, Head of Bruce Memorial Hospital, Alampore, India.

Lanson was aware that this bit of information, vital though it was, did not conclusively prove that his great aunt was in India at the time of her demise. But neither could he trace any further information that would give him a clue as to Miss Thorpe’s whereabouts after her thesis had been published. He was working on his own, and knew that a trip to India was like a leap in the dark. Nonetheless, acting on a hunch, he decided to take the plunge; he set off for India and arrived in Alampore in the month March. He began by making careful enquiries at the Bruce Memorial Hospital. The records showed that a lady named Isabel Thorpe had indeed served here from 1918 to 1929.

Satisfied with the details he had procured, Lanson made further enquiries and was directed to St Bartholomew’s Church. This was the largest Protestant church in Alampore, and as it was located in the Civil Lines, Lanson knew it was the most likely candidate where he might find a clue.

He was received by the parson, the Reverend Isadas Masih, a kindly man in his late forties. The parson listened to Lanson’s story patiently. In the end, he shook his head. “We have no records with us prior to 1950,” he said in a kind voice. “What do you want to consult these records for? For dates of birth and death?” The parson bit his lips and thought for a moment. “I think I can do something better for you. If you like, I will accompany you to the Old English Cemetery here. It is not far from here. The Lord willing, we might succeed in finding the grave of your great aunt.”

Lanson accompanied by the parson arrived in the cemetery late in the afternoon. The graves, he found, were well spaced apart with a gravel pathway running through, the gulmohar trees in bloom spreading out their colourful canopy over the final resting place of these immortal souls.

The sun cast it last rays over the horizon, the sky was painted with crimson light. The young man had searched the cemetery for more than an hour when he heard a sharp cry coming from the far end of the cemetery. “Mr Lanson! Mr Lanson, please come here. I think I have found what you were looking for!”

Lanson hurried across to find Masih leaning over a gravestone partly obliterated by wild grass and scrub.

“You are lucky Mr Lanson,” said the parson to the young man as he approached. He cleared away the scrub and wild grass, revealing a tombstone crumbling and disfigured with age. The men stood reverently as they read the epitaph on the headstone:

In Loving Memory Of

Isabel Milverton

Born 16 March 1891; Died 7 September 1929

Of Bruce Memorial Hospital, Alampore

A Physician who served this land

With Unfailing Love and Zeal.

May She Enter into the Rest of the Lord.

In the fast diminishing crimson twilight, the tombstone seemed to glow almost with an ethereal beauty. The men stood silently studying the inscription.

“She died young; only thirty eight!” exclaimed the parson in a soft whisper.

Lanson stood still studying the words; he seemed to be in doubt. “There seems to be some mistake,” he pointed out. “The hospital records quote her name as Thorpe.”

The parson seemed as curious over the discovery of the tombstone as Lanson was. He thought for a moment and said: “That may be so; but look at the date. It matches your record exactly—1929.  Mr Lanson, your great aunt married here in India. This tablet is testimony to the fact, and perhaps the only evidence you’ll ever find !”

The young man looked impressed but still would not give in. “I find it strange that this epitaph makes no mention of her husband,” said he.

The parson walked over to one side to study the tomb from an angle. A moment later he was back to the young man’s side. He looked up at Lanson and said: “The inscription here makes no mention of your great aunt’s husband, as you say. These are questions which may remain unanswered. . . But I am pretty certain of one thing: this is where your dear aunt sleeps. It is inconceivable that there were two physicians each named Isabel working for the same institution who both passed away in the same year. If this were the case, you would most certainly find another grave here bearing the same name, you see?”

Lanson nodded slowly. He could feel his eyes grow moist. He knelt beside the grave, placed flowers on the headstone, and whispered a prayer:    

. . . Aunt Isabel, I am here to tell you how much we all love you. You served in this far away land without any of us knowing anything about it; how I wish you had grown up in a home with a father to care, a mother to love, and warmth and protection which a child can know only in the home. But you had none of these things. Today I have come with a gift of love for you. See, even the mynah on the branch above is singing a song of joy for you. The whole of God’s creation is your family . . .  Love and farewell, dear Aunt. . .

And with these words, the young man wept silently.

                                                                                                                          

He need not have grieved.

Unknown to him, Charles Lanson’s wish had been fulfilled nearly four decades before these words were uttered.

The Railway in Alampore

The Grand Trunk road passing through Alampore is a meandering strip of tar, wide enough to carry three lanes of horse- or bullock-drawn traffic, coming down through the plains of the north where it is flanked by great shimmering fields of rice and wheat. Here and there the road passes over a culvert or a stream until it begins to climb a bank that leads it right over the bridge on the Narmada, a pale blue expanse of water flowing placidly close to the town. Then in 1872 the railway came. A new bridge carrying tracks was built over the river. Townspeople who had never seen a train before stood at the river’s edge watching in great wonder the new marvel, a giant fire-breathing hulk rumbling over the steel girders carrying along a line of red carriages behind.

As the years wore on, the novelty of the railway began to wear off; the steam train which had created such a great sensation soon ceased to arouse wonder. The people of the town had ceased to marvel at the miracle wrought with steam. Feelings of apprehension that the smoke issuing from atop the devilish creature would bring harm to their cattle, their possessions, and their own selves soon gave way to feelings of resignation, followed by grudging acceptance, then finally appreciation. The steam engine was no longer looked upon as an alien. For the townsfolk had discovered that the railway brought with it blessings and conveniences they had never dreamed of before. It paved the way for brisk trade, it made travel easier and cheaper, and helped people to find employment. The railways, the civil cantonment area and various other establishments such as the District Courts and the newly set up Bruce Memorial Hospital had transformed the place from a sleepy little town into a city bustling with activity.

The railway was, beyond a doubt, pivotal in bringing about these developments. Alampore Junction was on the route to Bombay with a line forking to Jhansi. With the railway came a goods yard and a locomotive shed ; Alampore was from the start an engine changing station, a junction of first importance on the Great Indian Peninsula Railway.   

Roger Milverton, the head foreman of the engine repair shed at Alampore, put down his cup of tea with the air of one who has accepted defeat. It was the custom for loco foremen in those days to gather in the office for recreation after a major overhaul was accomplished. There would be a good deal of jesting and good-humoured raillery interspersed with cigarettes and rounds of tea. It was a time the men looked forward to with great anticipation each day.

The boys trooped into the foreman’s office. Milverton looked up, and from the way they fastened their gaze on him, he knew that he was to be the butt of their jokes today.  

“Ha! Whose turn is it today? Mamma’s boy, eh?” said one of the men sitting down with a grin. “Only a wife can save your skin today! When are you getting one, my boy?”

Milverton’s colleagues who were chuckling all along broke into guffaws; their victim looked away trying not to appear interested while nodding his head in mock assent.

“Gentlemen !” cried out another, rising as though he were making a speech, “let’s not be vulgar. It gives me great pleasure to announce that our man here has finally begun to partake of the joys of feminine company. I hear he entertains in his home a secret lady visitor practically each day!”

An applause broke out, cigarettes were lit vigorously; the men raised toasts craning their necks forward. “A secret lady visitor?” chorused one. “It’s a miracle. I’d give anything to have a glimpse of her. Let’s march into the boss’s home today and take a look for ourselves!”

Milverton waved his hand in disgust. These boys were crazy; they acted as if they had never seen a girl before. “You see, she doesn’t come to see me,” he explained. “She’s picked up a friendship with mother; and she is no secret visitor to my home as you say!”

“There again, mamma’s boy !” exclaimed someone. “I say, why don’t you marry? That’s your only hope.”

Milverton did not seem to relish these remarks. He never minded humour at his expense, but these fellows were making comments that bordered on the indecent. He was a slim man, thirty something, with a flourishing moustache, a bit awkward in manners, but well meaning and good natured. Women had attracted him ever since he was in school, but strangely, when he was around, women took to flight, he had noticed. God knows he had met ever so many of these creatures, but till date, his relationship with these ladies had been but platonic. An abiding relationship with a girl which would grow and finally culminate in marriage was a distant dream which he had little hope of seeing fulfilled.

Milverton tried to dismiss the thought of matrimony from his mind. He was here to do work and a locomotive shed was a place for serious work. He had put in more than fifteen years of service, first as a loco apprentice mechanic, than as a fireman, before taking over charge of shunting engines and goods trains. Seniority had brought one more promotion: in his sixteenth year he was put on the Khalilabad Passenger. He worked as driver for nearly a year before he decided to opt for locoshed duty again. Life on the rails had been a heady experience; he had tasted the adventure of speed. Now he wished to return to a quieter job, one that was less demanding. He was put in charge of the locomotive shed of Alampore. It was the kind of work he loved to do. He had lived amidst the smell of smoke all his life, and here he was, looking after six smart looking puffing billies, each of them eager to receive a pat of approval from him.

The foreman looked out of the window ignoring the stares of his men. “Boy, won’t you ever share your girl with us here?” the men demanded.

Milverton chuckled. “News travels very fast here, but believe me, I have yet to see the girl you speak about,” he said with a gesture of helplessness.

The men exchanged glances as they eyed the foreman gravely. “You fooling us . . .?”

“He says he hasn’t met her yet,” said one in mock seriousness, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Mort, don’t be too hard on him. Let’s spare him.”

An engine standing at some distance gave a short whistle, and began to back up on a line next to the locoshed. Milverton watched the loco approach and back away through his window, letting out blasts of smoke and steam. From the corner of his eye he could see the boys were waiting for an explanation. He considered the matter judiciously. “No, I haven’t met the girl yet,” he replied with a tone of finality. “In the meantime, why don’t you boys take a peek at what the Institute or Club has to offer?”

(Continued below)

SHORT STORY - II

Isabel Comes to Tea

Sarah Milverton drew aside the curtains of her living room and proceeded to plant a set of freshly picked daffodils in the flower vase. A cake had been put in the oven to bake, the flower pots watered, and it was time she could resume her knitting. Now over sixty years of age, the silvery haired lady still found her greatest joy in tending to her garden, doing knitting and stitching, and attend to a host of sundry things in and around the home.

The ring of a bell announced that a visitor was at the gate. Sarah peeped out of the window to find a young lady dressed in a blue pleated skirt and coat holding a bicycle. The girl smiled and waved, and Sarah waved back.

“Come dearie, come right inside,” said Mrs Milverton cheerily stepping out of the portico. “I have waited for you all along. Come this way!”

The young lady seemed a trifle nervous as she walked into the living room. Having made the girl as comfortable as she could, Sarah went around looking for her son. “Roger!” she cried, “Roger, come and see who we have got here!”

Milverton, who seemed to have prepared for the occasion, emerged in an evening suit and seemed to take some time taking in the sight of the exquisitely made young lady with golden brown hair and a smile which dimpled her cheeks.

“Ah, it is so very nice of you to drop in, Miss,” said Roger pleasantly as he took a seat opposite the girl. “How do you do?”

“She’s Isabel Thorpe, my newest friend,” blurted out Mrs Milverton excitedly as she sank into the sofa beside the girl, giving her a warm squeeze. “She’s newly joined Bruce Memorial Hospital. You haven’t heard her play on the piano, son!”

Isabel blushed at the compliments that were pouring and found it a relief when the maid stepped in bringing a trolley laid out with tea.

Roger began by passing around a plate of biscuits. “My mother speaks a good deal about you,” he said. “I believe you are here on—er—a medical assignment?”

“Oh, well – yes – it was a project I took up last year. I am here to do research on the medical cures practiced here traditionally, and study the complications that usually arise. It’s quite interesting, you know.”

“Splendid !” said Roger as he buttered himself a toast. “And it’ll serve a very useful purpose too. May I ask, how far have you progressed with your research?”

Isabel stroked her chin softly. The gentleman with the easy going manners seemed pleasant enough, but a bit awkward. Nice people, she thought to herself, nice to talk to, and nice to be with. “I have nearly finished with my work,” she said. “Dr Martin at Bruce Memorial says these findings are going to be tremendously useful, and could be published in the form of a thesis on the subject.”

Mrs Milverton who seemed keen on letting the young pair have some time to themselves had left the room on some pretext. Now she returned and stood in the doorway holding up a carton triumphantly.

“Here’s a new record, children. No evening can be complete without music!” she declared. And placing the record on the gramophone player she gently wound up the crank. The machine began to play the soft strains of Silent Night.

The conversation drifted to other topics. “Mr Milverton,” began Isabel, “have you ever thought of returning to England?”

“Why, no, Miss Thorpe. Why do you ask?”

“I thought you might want to return to civilization,” Isabel said tentatively.

“I like the civilization here,” said Roger. “It is quiet, life is never in a hurry, the natives are good natured folks. . .”

“Oh, yes.”

“You know, there are people back Home who dream of the romance of India. I like to live the romance. India has a kind of dreamlike quality.”

Isabel looked at Roger with a smile that soon gave way to a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Something like a latter day Livingstone exploring the jungles of Africa?”

“Er—not quite. Haven’t you ever had the urge to explore unknown lands?”

“I do,” returned Isabel. “As a matter of fact I have travelled quite a bit in India.”

“Then you will have tales of adventure to tell !”

Mrs Milverton looked fondly at the young pair as they laughed and talked away into the evening.  Beyond the open window, the sun sank below the horizon, painting the sky with deep yellow and crimson, while the hills in the distance seemed to grow mellow and dusky. She had changed records and the gramophone was now playing Alexander’s Ragtime Band, her favourite piece of music. She rose from her chair and drew close to Isabel. Then taking the girl by her hand she said, “Come dearie, let’s dance with the music.”

The young lady looked up bewildered. “No, please, Mrs Milverton, you must excuse me,” she protested. “I hardly ever dance; I make a terrible hash of it.”

“So do I, my dear, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try, does it? Come!”

And soon the ladies had swept away, their arms entwined, swaying to the rhythm of the tune amidst squeals of laughter, while Roger Milverton, enthralled with the performance, took on the task of re-setting the gramophone record humming a tune himself while cheering on the pair.

Friends Forever

As in most other towns the small European community in Alampore found its recreation in the English Club where the sahibs and memsahibs would gather in the evenings for social intercourse and pleasure. Mrs Milverton had long been an active member, but in recent days she seemed to have grown tired of the social life offered by the club and her visits had declined. The truth was that there was something far superior, and far more valuable to be found in the home, for with the coming of Isabel Thorpe, Milverton Lodge had seen a change that would make its inhabitants look forward to each day with eager expectation.

Evenings in Milverton Lodge would see the sound of music when Isabel played some of the finest tunes she knew on the piano. Old Colonel Browning who lived next door called on Mrs Milverton. “Great music coming from over yonder. What is it all about, ma'am?” he wanted to know, and Sarah had told him about her newfound friend and her musical gift. Word quickly spread around, and neighbours began to pour in, eager to hear the young pianist play.

There was a time when Sarah complained of a lack of enthusiasm, a feeling that having reached the eventide of life there wasn’t much of a meaning left in anything around. Isabel who had listened patiently all along didn’t say anything, but when evening came, she returned with a bunch of brightly dressed kids gathered from the neighbourhood. They were soon scampering all over the garden letting out squeals of delight, some even persuading Mrs Milverton to join in the fun, and when she refused, they clambered on to her lap to receive a hug of love.

The children returned the next day, and the day after . . . it left Sarah feeling enthralled. The sparkle had returned to her eye, there was a spring her step. Life that had grown dreary seemed once again to have regained its former zest and meaning.

Then there were picture albums to browse through. The young lady from Bruce Memorial seemed to be equally skilled with a camera as she was with her stethoscope. She had travelled extensively all over the country, and recorded her findings in a series of notes jotted down in a diary, and a set of four neatly bound albums with hundreds of pictures stuck in. Roger and his mother spent many happy hours browsing through these albums with Isabel sitting beside giving a commentary on each picture. Going through these albums was like making a grand tour of the country ; they contained pictures of all kinds : pictures of forts and monuments, armies and regiments, official lodges and bungalows, shops and streets, hill stations and towns, natives and Englishmen in India, stations and ports . . . a breathtaking photographic archive created with nothing more special than an Ensign box camera which the girl had mastered, later graduating to a more expensive folding bellows camera of the same company.

Autumn brought with it a cool breeze coming in from the nearby hills and Sarah’s daffodils swayed in the wind as though to welcome the intrusion that had come in their uneventful life. With the weather growing mild, Mrs Milverton who had mostly kept indoors during the summer began to move out more adventurously, taking a horse-buggy to town or calling up on friends. During one of these excursions she seemed to have caught an infection and was laid up in bed. Dr Martin who was Medical Superintendent of Bruce Memorial Hospital was kind enough to call on the lady for an examination. He pronounced it a case of severe bronchial infection, advising immediate removal of the patient to the hospital.

Isabel who worked under Dr Martin made it a point to snatch every moment she could find to be with her elderly friend. She studied the temperature chart, checked the breathing, then sat down to examine the senior doctor’s prescription. Light diet, it recommended, but from her own experience as a physician she knew that on more than one occasion she had proved the text books wrong. She picked up her bag and hurried to the bazaar returning with tin of liver extract.

“There you are, Mrs Milverton!” said Isabel smiling brightly as she stood by the bed holding up a spoonful of the liquid for the old lady. “This should put you back on your feet soon!”

The liver extract worked wonders. Within a week’s time the old lady had grown strong again; the doctors attending on her pronounced her out of danger. She was soon strolling around and to everyone’s astonishment, in another four days she was discharged from the hospital.

And thus it went on, the young lady filling the home with a thousand shades of radiance till Roger and his mother began to find themselves positively looking forward each day to the girl’s visit. “Do you like her?” Mrs Milverton asked her son at the breakfast table once. Roger, gauche and awkward, and well over thirty, had rarely succeeded in engaging the attention of women thus far. He had reached a stage where he found it entirely futile even to conceive a wish that someone from amongst the gentle sex would cast an admiring glance at him, and yet here was a girl who was taking an exceptional interest in both mother and son. “She comes here to see you!” Mrs Milverton said teasingly, and Roger would murmur something in reply flushing with pleasure.

But it was Sarah who found the greatest joy and fulfillment with the arrival of the girl. Materially speaking, she was already well-off; she had a lovely home and a comfortable bank balance; she had worked prior to her retirement as headmistress of a school, a position which had earned her recognition and esteem. And now there was this young lady who had stepped into her life bringing with her a thousand little joys, and making her feel that she was special. With the passage of time they grew closer ;  friendship gave way to love so that at last they were like mother and daughter. The young lady was nearly a daily visitor to Sarah’s home. They sat together reading aloud poetry, they sang together, read the same books, tried out the latest culinary art. And how popular they had grown at the Club ! When Christmas came along, Sarah and her friend staged a play with a few others named ‘Broken Blossoms’ based on a short story by one of the writers of the time. ‘Broken Blossoms’ proved to be a runaway success; it made Isabel something like a celebrity overnight. So popular was the play that on public demand several more shows had to be staged ; on the fourth run no less a person than the Collector of  the District himself was amongst the audience.

Mother and daughter found perfect happiness in each other’s company. The two got on splendidly. They picked daisies together ; they rode together to the bazaar in a buggy ; and as they strolled about in the garden whispering to each other their inmost secrets, nature herself seemed to brim over with joy : the wind whistled a tune and the leaves rustled, while the crocuses gleefully nodded in the breeze, pleased at the thought of having two friends sharing a blessed communion in their presence.

(Continued below)