A rare collection of railways pictures dating back to British times may be found here:
.
http://www.columbia.edu/itc/mealac/pritchett/00routesdata/1800_1899/britishrule/railways/
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November 30, 2009
November 29, 2009
A CHRISTMAS CAROL
Today I am going to tell a Christmas story.
.
It is very short, but nonetheless a story. You won't find in it the slightest hint of trains or railway life, and yet I am putting it here for us all to read. For Christmas is almost here, and we all look forward to having a great time ahead . . . . it is also a time for sharing our blessing, of caring and giving out love . . .
.
To all those who have helped in making this website a success, I say a big THANK YOU, and to everyone who cares to drop in, a MERRY CHRISTMAS !
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. . . THE LIGHTS DANCED PLAYFULLY as Emma added the last finishing touches to her Christmas tree. This time it was going to be a genuine tree, she had decided, quite unlike the make-believe stuff to be found in the stores. She had spent the afternoon in the nearby woods looking for a bough that would look just right. And when she returned a quarter of an hour later she triumphantly held in her hand a pine branch with shoots that looked every way as though it were a tree in miniature.
.
Back in the home she carefully set up her tree in a large sized flowerpot topped with sand. Now she could go on and add the decorations she had bought. There were tiny glittering globes and stars, a baby Santa Claus, coloured candles in decorative shapes, and a huge star which was really a specially shaped oil lantern that would glow in the dark when lit up.
.
Evening came and Emma began to light the candles. She had set up her tree close to a large window so that people who passed by would take notice. Finally with the star shaped lantern at the top lit up, Emma stepped back to survey the tree, looking pleased. It wasn’t the best Christmas tree in town, but it sure looked great, the candles burning amidst the branches of pine creating a spectacular show of light and shade.
.
Emma glanced out of the window of her home. Smoke could be seen curling from the chimneys of nearby homes. Voices came floating across the still air—men yelling, boys laughing as they carried about firewood, women murmuring. They were preparing for the night ahead. Emma wondered if any of them had noticed her decorated tree. They were nice folks who would smile pleasantly when you met them on the street; only they didn’t seem to give much thought to an elderly spinster living all by herself in a poorly home. But you can’t really blame them, Emma thought. That’s the way people are, and maybe she wasn’t of much use
to them anyway....
.
The evening slipped by till the hands of the clock showed that it was close to nine o’clock. There was nothing much left to do now. In a little while she would have dinner, read maybe for an hour and then retire to bed. She had begun to lay out the plates when the soft strains of Joy to the World came floating in through the night air. They were singing carols out there. Emma paused to gaze at her Christmas tree. The candles had burned halfway through, wax running down the sides in large ponderous globes. Who said Christmas wasn’t for her? Christmas was here as much as it was everywhere around. Her tree by the window was there to proclaim this to all the world.
.
A gentle knock on the door startled the woman. Emma flung open the door to find a group of urchins, about six in number, assembled in her yard. Their eyes shone in the faint light and they had grubby faces and wore tattered clothes.
.
A little girl stepped forward and spoke in a silvery voice: “We’ve come to see your Christmas tree. It looks kind of great with the shiny star up there!”
.
“We’ll sing carols for you, if you please,” pleaded a boy who stood at the back.
.
Emma stood still for a moment staring at the kids in amazement. “Come in!” she said, delighted. “Do come in. I’ve been waiting for you all along!”
.
She led the children joyfully into her sitting room where they stood gazing at the glittering lights in wonder.
.
Emma brought in a plate laden with doughnuts. She sat on a chair and drew the children around her. They immediately began to c
hatter excitedly, asking her all kinds of questions.
.
The little girl who had spoken earlier snuggled up close and threw her arms around the lady. “Who gave you this tree?” she wanted to know. “Did Santa come with a sack of presents?”
. . . THE LIGHTS DANCED PLAYFULLY as Emma added the last finishing touches to her Christmas tree. This time it was going to be a genuine tree, she had decided, quite unlike the make-believe stuff to be found in the stores. She had spent the afternoon in the nearby woods looking for a bough that would look just right. And when she returned a quarter of an hour later she triumphantly held in her hand a pine branch with shoots that looked every way as though it were a tree in miniature.
.
Back in the home she carefully set up her tree in a large sized flowerpot topped with sand. Now she could go on and add the decorations she had bought. There were tiny glittering globes and stars, a baby Santa Claus, coloured candles in decorative shapes, and a huge star which was really a specially shaped oil lantern that would glow in the dark when lit up.
.
Evening came and Emma began to light the candles. She had set up her tree close to a large window so that people who passed by would take notice. Finally with the star shaped lantern at the top lit up, Emma stepped back to survey the tree, looking pleased. It wasn’t the best Christmas tree in town, but it sure looked great, the candles burning amidst the branches of pine creating a spectacular show of light and shade.
.
Emma glanced out of the window of her home. Smoke could be seen curling from the chimneys of nearby homes. Voices came floating across the still air—men yelling, boys laughing as they carried about firewood, women murmuring. They were preparing for the night ahead. Emma wondered if any of them had noticed her decorated tree. They were nice folks who would smile pleasantly when you met them on the street; only they didn’t seem to give much thought to an elderly spinster living all by herself in a poorly home. But you can’t really blame them, Emma thought. That’s the way people are, and maybe she wasn’t of much use
to them anyway.....
The evening slipped by till the hands of the clock showed that it was close to nine o’clock. There was nothing much left to do now. In a little while she would have dinner, read maybe for an hour and then retire to bed. She had begun to lay out the plates when the soft strains of Joy to the World came floating in through the night air. They were singing carols out there. Emma paused to gaze at her Christmas tree. The candles had burned halfway through, wax running down the sides in large ponderous globes. Who said Christmas wasn’t for her? Christmas was here as much as it was everywhere around. Her tree by the window was there to proclaim this to all the world.
.
A gentle knock on the door startled the woman. Emma flung open the door to find a group of urchins, about six in number, assembled in her yard. Their eyes shone in the faint light and they had grubby faces and wore tattered clothes.
.
A little girl stepped forward and spoke in a silvery voice: “We’ve come to see your Christmas tree. It looks kind of great with the shiny star up there!”
.
“We’ll sing carols for you, if you please,” pleaded a boy who stood at the back.
.
Emma stood still for a moment staring at the kids in amazement. “Come in!” she said, delighted. “Do come in. I’ve been waiting for you all along!”
.
She led the children joyfully into her sitting room where they stood gazing at the glittering lights in wonder.
.
Emma brought in a plate laden with doughnuts. She sat on a chair and drew the children around her. They immediately began to c
hatter excitedly, asking her all kinds of questions..
The little girl who had spoken earlier snuggled up close and threw her arms around the lady. “Who gave you this tree?” she wanted to know. “Did Santa come with a sack of presents?”
.
A burst of fireworks shot up in the air with a whoosh and spread across the night sky forming myriads of coloured twinkling specs. Then came another whoosh followed by bang-bang! Emma could feel her heart throbbing with joy. If others chose to keep aloof, let them do as they pleased. None of them would ever guess her little secret on this blessed Christmas day.
.
“Where’s Santa?” the little girl spoke again, poking her finger gently against Emma’s wrinkled cheek.
.
“Santa? Ah, yes . . . Santa was here last night, dear,” Emma spoke in a whisper. “. . . And he’s brought this tree specially for you!”
.
A burst of fireworks shot up in the air with a whoosh and spread across the night sky forming myriads of coloured twinkling specs. Then came another whoosh followed by bang-bang! Emma could feel her heart throbbing with joy. If others chose to keep aloof, let them do as they pleased. None of them would ever guess her little secret on this blessed Christmas day.
.
“Where’s Santa?” the little girl spoke again, poking her finger gently against Emma’s wrinkled cheek.
.
“Santa? Ah, yes . . . Santa was here last night, dear,” Emma spoke in a whisper. “. . . And he’s brought this tree specially for you!”
.
Ravindra Bhalerao
.
Pictures:
November 27, 2009
A CHRISTMAS GIFT FROM LYNNE . . .
To find material on Raj Railways, you need to be something of an archaeologist. The keyword is digging up, and you will find vast amounts of literature stacked away in railway record offices, ready to be explored. At other times, you may have to rely on luck, or look for directions given by a kind soul you come across.
.
Some days ago I received a note from Lynette Rebeiro telling me of a short memoir that had appeared in THE HINDU, by Noel Anthony Neto, a superfast A-Grade driver who began his career in 1946 as an apprentice with the Madras and Southern Mahratta Railway. A great piece of writing (read it here) and we have every reason to thank Lynne for pointing us the way.
.
.
Some days ago I received a note from Lynette Rebeiro telling me of a short memoir that had appeared in THE HINDU, by Noel Anthony Neto, a superfast A-Grade driver who began his career in 1946 as an apprentice with the Madras and Southern Mahratta Railway. A great piece of writing (read it here) and we have every reason to thank Lynne for pointing us the way.
.
November 9, 2009
THE ORIGIN OF PLATFORM TICKETS
There was a time, back in the nineteenth century when a rule was in force allowing none other than journey ticket holders to step into a railway station. A sound method to prevent overcrowding, but the public could hardly be expected to find it a very convenient arrangement. The result was that a system involving the issue of ‘platform tickets’ was brought into use, allowing people to receive friends arriving by train, whilst at the same time making it difficult for street-corner loungers to use the platform as a place for idle amusement and gossip:
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ONE OF THE GRIEVANCES of the Indian public was that they were not entitled to come inside the railway premises to see off or to receive their relatives and friends who were coming/going by trains. Government of India in its letter No. 870 R.T. dated August 7, 1883 addressed to Bombay Government said: “At present, as a rule, only those natives who have railway tickets are admitted on to the platform, and it has been represented that considerable inconvenience is caused by the custom generally in force which prevents native gentlemen from being present on the platform to meet a friend or relative coming by train or to accompany him it on his departure. The Government of India fully recognized the necessity of preventing the undue crowding of railway platforms, but it is thought that the grievance complained of might be to a great extent remedied, without inconvenience to railway working, by the adoption, at the principal stations, of a system lately introduced by the Sind, Punjab & Delhi Railway at Lahore of issuing platform tickets at a small charge which might be fixed experimentally at one or two pice for each ticket.”
.
A few months later doubts were raised as to the legal right of the Railway Authorities to issue such tickets. The issue was resolved by the Government of India vide its circular No. XXXVII – Railway, dated December 20, 1883 which said “… His Excellency, the Governor General in council is pleased to rule that, in future, when the Railway Authorities desire to exclude all but ticket holders from railway platforms, the intention shall be duly notified in the railway timetables, and a printed notice to that effect specifying the place where such tickets are obtainable and their cost, shall be drawn up with reference to Section 3 (c) and 41 of the Indian Railways Act No. IV of 1879 and pasted up in a conspicuous place outside the station.”
.
It was believed that such a notice would be a sufficient ‘warning off’ to justify prevention of any person from entering a railway platform without a ticket.
.
References: History of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway (Part I, Vol. II), by S. N. Sharma, Retd. C.P.L.O., Central Railway.
.
.
ONE OF THE GRIEVANCES of the Indian public was that they were not entitled to come inside the railway premises to see off or to receive their relatives and friends who were coming/going by trains. Government of India in its letter No. 870 R.T. dated August 7, 1883 addressed to Bombay Government said: “At present, as a rule, only those natives who have railway tickets are admitted on to the platform, and it has been represented that considerable inconvenience is caused by the custom generally in force which prevents native gentlemen from being present on the platform to meet a friend or relative coming by train or to accompany him it on his departure. The Government of India fully recognized the necessity of preventing the undue crowding of railway platforms, but it is thought that the grievance complained of might be to a great extent remedied, without inconvenience to railway working, by the adoption, at the principal stations, of a system lately introduced by the Sind, Punjab & Delhi Railway at Lahore of issuing platform tickets at a small charge which might be fixed experimentally at one or two pice for each ticket.”
.
A few months later doubts were raised as to the legal right of the Railway Authorities to issue such tickets. The issue was resolved by the Government of India vide its circular No. XXXVII – Railway, dated December 20, 1883 which said “… His Excellency, the Governor General in council is pleased to rule that, in future, when the Railway Authorities desire to exclude all but ticket holders from railway platforms, the intention shall be duly notified in the railway timetables, and a printed notice to that effect specifying the place where such tickets are obtainable and their cost, shall be drawn up with reference to Section 3 (c) and 41 of the Indian Railways Act No. IV of 1879 and pasted up in a conspicuous place outside the station.”
.
It was believed that such a notice would be a sufficient ‘warning off’ to justify prevention of any person from entering a railway platform without a ticket.
.
References: History of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway (Part I, Vol. II), by S. N. Sharma, Retd. C.P.L.O., Central Railway.
.
November 1, 2009
THE CHUK-CHUK-CHUK MEN : AN INSIDE VIEW OF THE EXPLOITS OF OUR FABLED ENGINE DRIVERS
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Once a driver takes over his locomotive he is, for all practical purposes, the master of ceremonies; nothing else really matters. In this article which appeared in a leading newspaper on June 24, 1973, K R Vaidyanathan, retired senior Commercial Officer of Central Railway, gives us a fast moving account, telling us about the romance of manning a locomotive cab, and equally fascinating, how the man up there on the footplate came to occupy his place as ENGINE DRIVER.
.
“OF ALL THE CENTRES OF ATTRACTION in a train,” an English writer once said, “the chief place belongs to the narrow space where handles and gauges are manipulated by two men in overalls.”
.
A footplate (driver and fireman’s platform in locomotive) journey is no doubt dirty and uncomfortable. But the sense of being there, of nearness to the power of the giant as it hurtles along, of ability to control the movement of so many people sitting meek as sheep in their compartments is something exciting and is the cherished dream of many a school boy.
.
The driver’s job, however, is not as enviable as it appears. His work is hard, fraught with difficulties and dangers. Irregular hours and overtime duty are the features of his life on the rails. He has to be literally on his toes, right from the time he takes over to when he books off—which may stretch to 12 hours at a time. His is indeed a role which begs our understanding and sympathy.
.
There was a time when domiciled Europeans or Anglo-Indians filled the posts of firemen and drivers on most company-managed railways. We have the picture of a typical, senior, Anglo-Indian driver in John Masters’ Bhowani Junction: “Mr. Jones looked pale and a bit grey and lined and bent in the shoulders, and his eyes were ringed and tired, but, my God, he was the man on the footplate, the driver of the engine and he had brought 98 UP Express from Muttra and would take it on to Gondwara…. He was wearing the red and white spotted bandanna handkerchief he always wore on his head when he was driving, tied at the back into a little tail, and he had a mass of cotton waste in his hands…”
.
Corpulent drivers were the rule in those days. Such men in charge of mail trains depended absolutely on their firemen for physical comfort. Then there were the cantankerous ones to whose rantings the firemen humbly submitted. They made life a veritable hell as they nagged and used indecent language. Firemen of those days used to joke that it was generally the henpecked husbands who were bullies outside the home.
.
There were more drivers, however, who were fatherly, considerate, and keenly interested in the welfare of the young men. They shared food with their firemen.
.
All this has changed radically since independence. The number of Anglo-Indians on our railways is infinitesimally small. The fabled ‘iron horse’ is no longer the monarch of the rail. The more powerful, sleek, diesel and electric locomotives are gradually taking their place.
.
Educated men are taking to driving railway engines in increasing numbers, thanks to the adventure involved in the job and the attractive pay. Good physique and medical fitness is a must. They are put through their paces in the departmental schools and in the loco-sheds by veterans in the line.
.
Normally, one starts as a cleaner. The driver-to-be, during his work of cleaning and oiling first learns the names of all the engine parts, and next their functions. As he becomes more familiar with the mechanism of an engine he is gradually introduced to the shovel and the fire-grate as a second fireman. The handling of a shovel is an art and the shoveling of coal in even layers involves a special technique. The work is hazardous and difficult.
.
The next stage is promotion as first fireman. Now he learns the management of the locomotive by watching his driver at work. He is taught to be vigilant by watching the gauges, injectors and regulators. At the same time he becomes acquainted by degrees with the characteristics of the lines—the signals and the gradients.
.
The fireman has to be very efficient to be recommended for training in the departmental school. Here he is taught loco theory in detail and the railway rules for working trains. In between sessions, he is given practical training on the foot-plate and taught the rules of the ‘road’. The initial training lasts seven months which is followed by short-term promotion and refresher courses at intervals.
.
There is also conversion training conducted at large diesel sheds to switch over steam drivers to work on diesels. Electric drivers have their training separately in major electric loco-sheds.
.
The promotion of firemen to assistant drivers to drivers is the most romantic period in a driver’s career. He experiences high speed. He is now paid around Rs 1000 per month. The driver of Rajdhani Express – India’s fastest train – carries home a Rs 1600 pay packet. Further, the foot-plate job has its own thrills and adventure.
.
Take for instance the picking up of the line-clear token by a speeding driver. Gripping firmly the engine stanchion with his left hand, how dexterously he inserts his other arm into the loop holding the pouch and swings back to the cab! Woe betide the driver who misses the token. He is taken to task severely as the train has to be stopped for picking up the token.
.
Then there are veterans who, by their steady running, make up lost time. They act promptly in an emergency – bringing a sluggish engine round, curing a choked fire, diagnosing trouble in the engine, or locating a failure. And they are as cool and collected on the engine traveling at 60 miles an hour as in the quiet of the home.
.
The Up Toofan Express had derailed near Jaminia station of Eastern Railways. The passengers who got down from the train were crowding the adjoining down track. It suddenly occurred to the driver after the accident that the down Assam Mail was to pass shortly. He immediately drove his engine to Jaminia to stop the train. But the speeding Mail had already crossed the signal point. By continued whistling and showing of the red light he managed to attract the attention of the driver of the Assam Mail, who stopped the train and averted another major accident.
.
Such alertness and foresight displayed by drivers are well known in railway lore.
.
The ace driver of today is the divisional mechanical engineer of tomorrow. Starting from cleaning, the first rung of the ladder, the driver-to-be works his way up slowly from shunting engines to express trains. This is a long road and it knows no short cuts.
.
Once a driver takes over his locomotive he is, for all practical purposes, the master of ceremonies; nothing else really matters. In this article which appeared in a leading newspaper on June 24, 1973, K R Vaidyanathan, retired senior Commercial Officer of Central Railway, gives us a fast moving account, telling us about the romance of manning a locomotive cab, and equally fascinating, how the man up there on the footplate came to occupy his place as ENGINE DRIVER.
.
“OF ALL THE CENTRES OF ATTRACTION in a train,” an English writer once said, “the chief place belongs to the narrow space where handles and gauges are manipulated by two men in overalls.”
.
A footplate (driver and fireman’s platform in locomotive) journey is no doubt dirty and uncomfortable. But the sense of being there, of nearness to the power of the giant as it hurtles along, of ability to control the movement of so many people sitting meek as sheep in their compartments is something exciting and is the cherished dream of many a school boy.
.
The driver’s job, however, is not as enviable as it appears. His work is hard, fraught with difficulties and dangers. Irregular hours and overtime duty are the features of his life on the rails. He has to be literally on his toes, right from the time he takes over to when he books off—which may stretch to 12 hours at a time. His is indeed a role which begs our understanding and sympathy.
.
There was a time when domiciled Europeans or Anglo-Indians filled the posts of firemen and drivers on most company-managed railways. We have the picture of a typical, senior, Anglo-Indian driver in John Masters’ Bhowani Junction: “Mr. Jones looked pale and a bit grey and lined and bent in the shoulders, and his eyes were ringed and tired, but, my God, he was the man on the footplate, the driver of the engine and he had brought 98 UP Express from Muttra and would take it on to Gondwara…. He was wearing the red and white spotted bandanna handkerchief he always wore on his head when he was driving, tied at the back into a little tail, and he had a mass of cotton waste in his hands…”
.
Corpulent drivers were the rule in those days. Such men in charge of mail trains depended absolutely on their firemen for physical comfort. Then there were the cantankerous ones to whose rantings the firemen humbly submitted. They made life a veritable hell as they nagged and used indecent language. Firemen of those days used to joke that it was generally the henpecked husbands who were bullies outside the home.
.
There were more drivers, however, who were fatherly, considerate, and keenly interested in the welfare of the young men. They shared food with their firemen.
.
All this has changed radically since independence. The number of Anglo-Indians on our railways is infinitesimally small. The fabled ‘iron horse’ is no longer the monarch of the rail. The more powerful, sleek, diesel and electric locomotives are gradually taking their place.
.
Educated men are taking to driving railway engines in increasing numbers, thanks to the adventure involved in the job and the attractive pay. Good physique and medical fitness is a must. They are put through their paces in the departmental schools and in the loco-sheds by veterans in the line.
.
Normally, one starts as a cleaner. The driver-to-be, during his work of cleaning and oiling first learns the names of all the engine parts, and next their functions. As he becomes more familiar with the mechanism of an engine he is gradually introduced to the shovel and the fire-grate as a second fireman. The handling of a shovel is an art and the shoveling of coal in even layers involves a special technique. The work is hazardous and difficult.
.
The next stage is promotion as first fireman. Now he learns the management of the locomotive by watching his driver at work. He is taught to be vigilant by watching the gauges, injectors and regulators. At the same time he becomes acquainted by degrees with the characteristics of the lines—the signals and the gradients.
.
The fireman has to be very efficient to be recommended for training in the departmental school. Here he is taught loco theory in detail and the railway rules for working trains. In between sessions, he is given practical training on the foot-plate and taught the rules of the ‘road’. The initial training lasts seven months which is followed by short-term promotion and refresher courses at intervals.
.
There is also conversion training conducted at large diesel sheds to switch over steam drivers to work on diesels. Electric drivers have their training separately in major electric loco-sheds.
.
The promotion of firemen to assistant drivers to drivers is the most romantic period in a driver’s career. He experiences high speed. He is now paid around Rs 1000 per month. The driver of Rajdhani Express – India’s fastest train – carries home a Rs 1600 pay packet. Further, the foot-plate job has its own thrills and adventure.
.
Take for instance the picking up of the line-clear token by a speeding driver. Gripping firmly the engine stanchion with his left hand, how dexterously he inserts his other arm into the loop holding the pouch and swings back to the cab! Woe betide the driver who misses the token. He is taken to task severely as the train has to be stopped for picking up the token.
.
Then there are veterans who, by their steady running, make up lost time. They act promptly in an emergency – bringing a sluggish engine round, curing a choked fire, diagnosing trouble in the engine, or locating a failure. And they are as cool and collected on the engine traveling at 60 miles an hour as in the quiet of the home.
.
The Up Toofan Express had derailed near Jaminia station of Eastern Railways. The passengers who got down from the train were crowding the adjoining down track. It suddenly occurred to the driver after the accident that the down Assam Mail was to pass shortly. He immediately drove his engine to Jaminia to stop the train. But the speeding Mail had already crossed the signal point. By continued whistling and showing of the red light he managed to attract the attention of the driver of the Assam Mail, who stopped the train and averted another major accident.
.
Such alertness and foresight displayed by drivers are well known in railway lore.
.
The ace driver of today is the divisional mechanical engineer of tomorrow. Starting from cleaning, the first rung of the ladder, the driver-to-be works his way up slowly from shunting engines to express trains. This is a long road and it knows no short cuts.
.
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