A letter from Karl Lobo

Dear Mr Bhalerao,
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I have read your blog with keen interest. I am a rail enthusiast with my grandparents and ancestors being employed on the Indian Railway (mostly Northwest Frontier), pre-independence. They were of British and Anglo-Indian descent. My Grandfather, Mr Walter Tresslor worked at the Moghulpura workshops in Lahore until 1949. He and the family came to India thereafter took up a job with the BARSI LIGHT RAILWAY and was based at Kurduwadi. He served as Asstt Foreman Carriage and Wagon at the Kurduwadi Workshops until his death in Jan 1959 by a railway accident wherein he was run over by an engine.
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Reading the various articles on your blog and going through the pictures of The Frontier Mail at Ballard Pier brought some vivid recollections of stories which my Grandparents narrated about how the Frontier Mail would run from Ballard Pier to Landi Kotal right up to the Frontier which is why it bore the name.
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They would also tell stories of the “Air Conditioned” coaches cooled using large blocks of ice, in which they would travel in style with the bearers in attendance, etc.
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We did pay a visit last year to Kurduwadi and to the workshop where we met some of the descendants of his staff. It was extremely nostalgic. I have attached some pictures.
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He also built some coaches in the Moghulpura workshops for the “Silver Arrow” train which ran between Lahore and Delhi. The miniature models built by him are in the Matunga workshops, we were told. Is there any record of trains and railways pre-partition?
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Hoping to read some more and to get a copy of the book Western Railway: Heritage, Traditions and Legend by A. K. Jhingron. As well as HAUNTING INDIA & 1600-1947 ANGLO-INDIAN LEGACY - A BRIEF GUIDE TO BRITISH RAJ INDIA HISTORY, NATIONALITY, EDUCATION, RAILWAYS & IRRIGATION (2000), by Alfred D.F. (George) Gabb CEng, MICE, Chartered Civil Engineer. (ISBN 0 948333 89 8).
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Yours sincerely,
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Karl Lobo

The Mysterious Station Master

I have been asked to pen a few lines telling about the railways of India back when I was a child. Sadly I never paid close attention to what I saw around me while at a station or riding a train then. Had I known that seventy years hence I would be required to record my travels for someone keenly devoted to steam engines and trains, I would have been more observant, maybe I would even have kept a diary.
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My memories of those days are as vague as the view across a valley on a foggy day. We were three sisters staying a house tucked away in a tiny sub-district of Maharashtra. Of all the places why this tiny hamlet no one has ever heard of ? Had he wanted, dad could easily have secured an appointment in a bustling hospital in Bombay, or some other big place. Many of his friends had set up flourishing practices in big towns and earned handsome fees, but dad was a man of ideals. After completing his LCPS in 1924 he had set up his medical practice in this small town with a population of a few thousand. He was here to serve the poor at a time when a villager would have to travel several miles in a bullock cart along dusty roads in the wilderness in search of medical help. The tiny clinic father had set up in the town of Karmala saw an interesting assortment of cases from tapeworm and rabies to scorpion bite and cases where a villager was brought in a cart from afar with his intestines gouged out by the horns of a bullock running amok.
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In 1936, five years before she died, mamma had joined the medical centre in Miraj for pursuing an LCPS in medicine. This ushered in a new phase in our lives for we would shuttle between our home and Miraj two or three times a year. One thing which strikes me about rail travel in those days was the absence of bustling, sweating crowds in a train. Kurduwadi, being the nearest rail terminal for us, we would ride in a bus to this place to take the tiny train, the Barsi Light Railway, a night’s run bringing us to Miraj without hassles of any kind. The little steam engine did its work faithfully, chugging along forests and valleys carrying along a line of red carriages. For those interested in details, the seats were of wood running lengthways, two along the carriage sides where you would sit with your back to the window, and two in the centre laid back to back.
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Kurduwadi was an interesting location, being a big junction at the intersection of the Barsi Light Railway and the Bombay-Madras main line, and our trips to Miraj and other places often found us at this station.
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During war days the electric lights in the tiny train looked incredibly feeble with their glass covers smeared with red paint, and if I remember correctly, even the engine headlight was half painted in red. When we asked dad the reason for this, he explained that the lights had been dimmed down to make it difficult for enemy planes to detect a train during night hours.
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The Barsi Light Railway ran on narrow gauge, 2 feet 6 inches I understand, but the route from Miraj to Kolhapur was served by a wider track, meter gauge, as I now know. It is one thing to see an animal in a zoo, how many of you can boast seeing a tiger from the window of a running train? It did happen with us. Miraj is about an hour’s run from Kolhapur and we were seated once in a third class carriage. As the train chugged along my mother suddenly raised a cry and pointed out. We all gathered around the window, and there in the light of the setting sun was a full grown tiger with blazing yellow stripes at the edge of the jungle about fifty yards away. I was greatly distressed and frantically urged mum and dad to shut the windows. Hearing the rumble of the train, the tiger had emerged from the forest and stood silently, regarding the train with a quizzical look. “What’s going on here? Clear out fast and leave me alone,” he seemed to be saying. I am glad the train did not halt here in the middle of nowhere. Trains often halt for no obvious reason, and had this happened the tiger would have been tempted to regard us with more interest than mere curiosity !
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Those were the days when Anglo Indians could be found everywhere on the railways. As a young girl I greatly admired these folks. Anglo Indian Station Masters were dressed in impeccable uniform, they carried themselves with great dignity and spoke flawless English, and their womenfolk in their gorgeous dresses were a always a pleasure to watch. Once on a trip to Poona, our train had halted at a small station, maybe Dhond or some such place. Across the tracks I spotted a lovely bungalow with a sloping roof. The garden was all a riot of colour. All of a sudden a European looking man in Station Master’s uniform emerged followed by a group of ladies dressed in colourful flowing dresses, all laughing and pointing at something. As my eyes wandered over the garden I saw something that almost made me cry out with delight—the lawn seemed to come alive like paradise with turkeys of the most attractive plumage moving around unhindered, pecking at what came their way. It was a sight I never forgot.
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All throughout the 1930s and 40s we had a mysterious Anglo Indian visitor who would drop in, even staying overnight with us at times. Mr Williams was Station Master of Kurduwadi Junction, tall, and very fair in complexion. He spoke Marathi with the same ease as he spoke English. Somehow none of us could get up enough courage to ask dad the reason why Mr Williams came, and sadly this has remained a mystery till this day. I suppose he was afflicted with an ailment of some kind and not being able to find a good enough practitioner in Kurduwadi he would ride the bus to Karmala to have himself examined by dad. But at best this is only a conjecture.
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We shared a close and friendly rapport with Mr Williams although we never had an occasion to meet his family. I still remember that evening at Kurduwadi station while we were on our way to Bombay. Mum, dad and I were seated in the waiting room awaiting our train when daddy spotted the tall figure of Mr Williams as it passed across the doorway. I was immediately dispatched to fetch the gentleman. “Uncle! Uncle!” I cried as I stumbled behind the man striding along the platform. Finally he turned round and as his glance rested on me his face broke into a smile. Mum and dad were pleased to see Mr Williams and they chatted briefly. He was on duty at the time and so could not linger much longer. Before he left he had given instructions to a bearer to bring us a meal consisting of excellent mutton curry, rice and parathas from the station refreshment room nearby.
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In 1941 mamma passed away and a new mum stepped in shortly and took over affairs at home. The years rolled on and in time we married and moved on in life. Many years later, I received news that our mum had passed on, so in the summer of 1970 I found myself back again in my ancestral home after an absence of many years. Dad looked much the same as before, although a bit pulled down in health. Before we left the place, I asked dad about the good Station Master whom we had known years ago. Mr Williams had died several years ago, my father said wistfully. Strangely, it never occurred to me to enquire about the precise reason for his visits to our home. The truth of the matter will probably never be known. And now it is too late to ask. All that remains with me is a fading vision of an impeccably dressed gentleman, station master of a great junction, who shared with us a friendship and camaraderie ages ago while we stayed in that tiny hamlet in the western part of Maharashtra.
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KAMLA BHALERAO

Antiques from the BB&CI Railway Treasure Chest

Western Railway: Heritage, Traditions and Legend by A. K. Jhingron; Western Railway, Mumbai, 2009; 239 pages, Rs 500.

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SHRI A. K. JHINGRON who held the office of General Manager of the Western Railway prior to his retirement in 2008 recalls the following incident: “I vividly recollect an incident of early 1980s. While working on Bikaner division on Northern Railway, during the course of an inspection of a station, I discovered in a locked room, amongst other things waiting to be condemned (D S Eighted, as called in railway parlance) a wall clock. On closer examination it was found to be a beautiful four feet tall wall clock, manufactured by M/s John Walker & Co., London and Glasgow in the year 1883. The Station Master, finding it old and unserviceable, was in a hurry to get it condemned so that he may get a new digital clock in replacement. My intervention saved the clock and it still adorns the wall of the office of Senior Divisional Operations Manager at Bikaner.”
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Shri Jhingron’s act of rescue of this remarkable piece of antique treasure is no isolated incident based on the impulse of the moment. It reflects a lifelong passion and fascination with archival material and his preoccupation with preserving the heritage of the railways. Western Railway: Heritage, Traditions and Legend is a distillation of his experience both as a professional railwayman and a rail heritage conservationist, bringing to the reader a vast array of vintage items, richly illustrated and supplemented by a commentary that is both insightful and entertaining.
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It is said that the student of rail history can approach his subject in one of the following two ways: by a study and perusal of archival material available in railway offices and libraries, or by documenting and seeking out historical details of artifacts that have survived to this day. The first is the approach of the historian, the second that of the archaeologist keen on preserving relics handed down by history. Shri Jhingron has chosen the latter alternative, but appropriately enough, begins his work with a brief exposition of the history of the Western Railway.
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A substantial part of the system that came to be known as the Western Railway following India’s independence came from that colossal network of lines known as the Bombay, Baroda and Central India Railway. The BB&CI had its beginnings in a short stretch of track about 3.6 kilometers long from Surat to Utran, inaugurated on 10 February 1860. Further extension to the south was accomplished in 1864 linking Baroda with the metropolis of Bombay. The Western Railway system was unique inasmuch as it was made up of three networks of different gauges. The main trunk route was a broad gauge line commencing from Bombay and running northward passing through Surat, Baroda, Ratlam and Kota before joining up with the GIP line at Mathura. Running parallel to this was the metre gauge line connecting Ahmedabad with Delhi together with its offshoots, and finally a closely knit 2 feet 6 inch narrow gauge network spread mostly over the Gujarat area and made up of the Gaikwad’s Baroda State Railway and other systems owned by various ruling states.
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The BB&CI Railway went from strength to strength with several steam loco sheds and workshops being set up for the maintenance of its ever growing fleet of locomotives and rolling stock. Some of these workshops even took up production work: the broad gauge saloon owned at one time by Maharaja Sayajirao Gaikwad and now on display at the National Rail Museum in Delhi was built as far back as in 1886 by the Parel Workshop of the BB&CI, while the Ajmer Workshop set up in 1877 went on the manufacture saloons, wagons as well as locomotives. Ajmer emerged as a pioneering railway establishment of its time, manufacturing over 460 locomotives before production ceased in 1945.
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For the average rail enthusiast, the search for heritage all too often begins and ends with steam engines. The author adds sophistication to his approach, bringing together a heady mixture of engines and rolling stock, vintage station clocks and bells, architectural marvels, bridges and railway colonies. The BB&CI Railway head office building at Churchgate, built at the turn of the nineteenth century receives full attention within the text. From here, like a master story-teller, he weaves his theme around the subject of railway office buildings, workshops and residential bungalows before moving on to explore other untrodden paths.
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Amongst the vast populace of Mumbai, few will be aware that Badhwar Park, the railway officers’ colony, is built over an area where once stood a graceful little station. Colaba railway station was built in 1896 and served as the terminus of the BB&CI Railway for nearly forty years before it was demolished and a new terminal, Bombay Central, set up to cope with the vastly increased traffic. The book provides several such fascinating insights and goes on to describe stations at Bandra, Porbandar, Morbi, Veraval and others, where we come across styles ranging from Saurashtra architecture to forms which clearly bear the influence of colonial type bungalows with their sloping tiled roofs. This chapter has some beautifully crafted sketches in colour. The author’s concern for heritage even embraces abandoned and derelict structures facing the possibility of demolition, and in true archaeologist style he explores the ruins of Jamnagar and Lakhajinagar stations, once fine specimens of station architecture but now lying in rubble and ruins after the Viramgam – Okha route was converted to broad gauge along a different track alignment.
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Railway heritage preservation has been, until recent years, mostly a grossly neglected concern, but the setting up of the National Rail Museum in New Delhi in 1977, followed in later years by various regional museums across the country appears to be an encouraging sign of progress in this direction. Taking the lead in this field is the Western Railway which has come up with ‘heritage galleries’ at Churchgate, Vadodara, Ahmedabad and Bhavnagar. Each a miniature museum in itself, these galleries open up a window to the past presenting an astonishing variety of railway bric-a-brac ranging from crockery and cutlery used in refreshment rooms to builders’ plates, vintage signalling apparatus, station clocks and bells, archival photographs, models of locomotives and carriages, period furniture and lamps.
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But important as these items of hardware are, they are not to be thought of as being all that rail heritage stands for. Shri Jhingron adds a pleasing touch by taking us on a ramble through the railway colonies on the BB&CI Railway before moving on to the exciting origins of some of the trains on this railway—and this includes the Frontier Mail—that went on to become legends.
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Western Railway: Heritage, Traditions and Legend is a pleasure to hold and behold, regal in appearance and classic in style, telling us in quiet words of the timeless treasures of the past. This book is essential reading for anyone seeking material on the railway heritage of India. More than that, it points the way for future rail conservationists to follow.

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Ravindra Bhalerao

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SHRI A. K. JHINGRON joined the Indian Railway Traffic Service in 1971, and has served as Additional Member (Computerisation & Information Systems), Railway Board, New Delhi, before taking over charge as General Manager of Western Railway. Shri Jhingron, a post-graduate in History from Allahabad University is a keen rail heritage enthusiast as well. He has traveled widely recording his findings on heritage railways in Australia and other places in a brilliant series of articles which appeared in Indian Railways magazine. Nearer home, he has pioneered the setting up of the Heritage Gallery at Western Railway Headquarters, Churchgate, Mumbai, and has also authored a book on philately titled “Dak Tikton Ka Safar, Railway Par Vishesh Nazar”.
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To order a copy of this book write to:
The Chief Public Relations Officer
Western Railway
Churchgate Headquarters
Mumbai - 400 020
INDIA