RAILWAYS OF THE RAJ

AN EVENING WITH ANOOP JHINGRON

2012-01-09T01:59:00.001-08:00

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.

Shri Anoop K. Jhingron

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.

. . . . Continued below
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Pictures courtesy of Shri A. K. Jhingron

AN EVENING WITH ANOOP JHINGRON (Contd.)

2012-01-09T01:58:00.001-08:00

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.

Yes, for the past some time I have been working on this project. This is intended to cover an important aspect of the railways, i.e., 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.

What were your impressions of 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.
The steam drivers appeared to be in love with their iron horses. There was a time when the best drivers used to have dedicated steam engines, which were driven exclusively by their team. The drivers and the firemen used to devote a lot of time to ensure proper maintenance of the locomotives. They would spend time in locosheds to see that locos were given proper attention. Even during run the team would devote time in oiling and cleaning of locos. They were so punctilious that it was sometimes difficult to find even a spec of coal dust once the loco had a stopover.
In those days steam locos hauling prominent trains were given names. In the initial years of my service I have seen Punjab Mail from Bombay VT to Ferozepur being hauled by two locos : “Jhansi ki Rani” and “Veer Bundela” of Jhansi loco sheds. Jodhpur shed used to have “Vir Durgadas” and “Ran Baanka Rathod” and even till 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 used 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 gentlemen may either go to the rear cab or to the train compartment.” On the footplate of a super fast 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 other two officers went back to their compartment. Now a days you will not find 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 rail enthusiasts who dream of the day when they will travel in an officers inspection carriage. 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 inspections. What does the job involve?
There are various types of station inspections conducted by traffic officials. They can be categorised 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 is to see the true condition of the work and staff alertness.
A night inspection is generally conducted between 1.30 to 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 trains. 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 few selected items for checking. 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 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 etc. Since all details are checked sometimes it may extend over two or three days, particularly in case of bigger stations.
During the 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 surprise, night or casual inspections. However, in case of detailed inspections involving night stays at a station such problems can arise. In such situations either one uses an inspection carriage or stays in a rest house. In either situation food etc can be prepared by the attendant. However at such stations where either there is no facility for placement of carriage or there is no rest house, one can stay at some nearby station where a rest house is available and make the station as base for inspecting nearby stations.
Normally an inspecting official is accompanied by a senior supervisor, who assists in conducting the inspection or collecting various details. After the inspection, an inspection note must be sent within 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 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 railway fails to attract tourists in large numbers as one 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 DHR, is not treated as part of the itinerary of a tourist. It only a 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 traveler happens to be a diehard railfan, the road is the preferred mode of transport.
For attracting the 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 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 also suggested that only a small portion of DHR should be kept operational as a heritage railway and rest may be considered for closure. However I feel sad to see the decline in popularity of DHR amongst tourists.

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. Besides I keep writing articles. My reading and writing habits also keep me busy.

I travel as well. Visiting my sons, other relatives 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 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”. The same is true of Indian Railways.

Well observed. Thank you so much Jhingron Saab, it has been so nice having a chat with you. 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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COMMENTS ON THIS POST:

Radha Nair on 28 January 2012:

Just visited Railways of the Raj and read your interview with Mr Jhingron. . . superb !
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Dr Ardeshir B. Damania from Davis, California, USA wrote on 1 February 2012:

I have read with great interest the interview with Anoop Jhingron who retired in 2008 as G.M. of Western Railway, Mumbai. Recollections of such men should be recorded on video, not only for the enjoyment of the public but also for the archives of their survivors who may one day come to treasure such recordings.

I am very glad that Shri Jhingron has set up a heritage museum at the Churchgate HQ of the Western Railway. I would like to donate my uncle, Shri Dorabji M. Damania’s guard’s whistle to the Museum if they do not have one already. The whistle is made in England of course and is from the 1920s.

I was amused to read about Shri Jhingron’s first acquaintance with the Canadian WP locomotive which was capable of sustained speed of 100 mph (on a test run in Canada it touched 120 mph briefly). When these engines first came to India on steamers, my father took me to Bombay Central to see one of them. My father said that they were imported from Canada and he called them “the Bhon engines” because of the strange sounding whistle that was in use all over North America as compared to the whistle of the black steam engines we were used to until then all over India. The engines also had a more colorful paint scheme than just all black. The Canadian engines were first used exclusively on long distance passenger trains like the Frontier Mail (see attached picture). Since the Frontier Mail made very few

stops and ran at top speed the crew included two firemen. The firemen took turns. One fireman took rest while the other fed the boiler constantly with coal from the bunker. I was told by my father that strict disciplinarian drivers would not hesitate to hit the fireman if the steam pressure fell below a certain level which would affect the speed! The only stops that were needed were for taking on water.

Shri Jhingron will also recall that the first diesel locomotives came as gifts from the United States. They too had a new sounding klaxon. Both the Canadian steam WP engines and the diesels were later produced in India, perhaps at the Chittaranjan Locomotive Works. I was once allowed to ride late at night on a WG black steam loco in May 1964 somewhere on the Southern Railway section. It was a memorable experience. The boy in me would still love to ride in the cabin of the locomotive on one of these Rajdhani expresses.

It is sad that, not only in the case of railways, but also in other spheres, heritage is not taken seriously. Much to my regret the present generation has very little idea of how things worked in the bygone days. We need champions like Shri Anoop Jhingron to save our heritage for posterity. I would like to inform Shri Jhingron that I will visit the Museum at Churchgate at the next available opportunity on my next visit to India.

Best wishes and keep up the good work! It is much appreciated.
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THE WORLD'S LARGEST TRACTION SPAN

2011-11-21T00:11:00.000-08:00

THE WORLD'S LARGEST traction span running into nearly 129 feet was erected near Sion station in Mumbai in 1925. Now this overhead structure is shortly going to be demolished. Rajendra Aklekar, reports:

THE G I P RAILWAY MURDER CASE

2011-11-13T22:47:00.000-08:00

Read about the G I P Railway Murder Case on this page.

BRITISH-ERA SIGNAL CABINS

2011-10-22T22:55:00.000-07:00

Another masterly piece of research by RAJENDRA AKLEKAR, telling us about an early signal cabin in Dadar. Just look at the upper right hand picture; you can almost see cabinmen high up in this signalbox grabbing those levers and pulling with all their might, the clang--thud, and the points are reset for a train to pass. A steam train, of course. But that was a long, long time ago. Thank you so much Raj. We look forward to more such contributions from you !!

BANGALORE'S FIRST TRAIN

2011-10-21T22:57:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-11T23:46:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-11T22:50:00.003-07:00

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

2011-10-11T22:50:00.001-07:00

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)

SHORT STORY - III

2011-10-11T22:49:00.003-07:00

An Unusual Outing

St Bartholomew’s Church with its brickwork spire pointing skyward lies half a mile to the east of Alampore Cantonment. The Cantonment bazaar is served by one main street, always crowded in the evenings, leading by the polo ground, various government offices, finally taking a turn to the left before you come upon the vicarage, followed by the church itself, a magnificent specimen of architecture that was built by the Presbyterians a hundred years ago. Today on anniversary day the church was packed to capacity; the congregation sat in a hushed silence; but secretly each person looked forward to the parson’s benediction when they could join in the festivities that awaited them outside.

The sermon, a long and tiresome one on this occasion, finally ended. Many amongst the congregation, particularly those in the back pews, had sighed in relief. As the parson lowered his head in prayer an elderly woman dressed in a cream coloured dress got up and hurried out, followed by a younger lady at her heels. Outside the church the place was buzzing with activity with two rows of stalls offering games, lucky dips and a variety of delicacies. Mrs Milverton flitted from stall to stall exchanging greetings and picking up doughnuts, cakes, and cheese sandwiches which she stuffed into the wicker basket she had brought along.

They were soon trotting off in the buggy.

“Mrs Milverton,” Isabel asked, “don’t you think we should have stayed on till the end of the service?”

“I am afraid not, dear,” Sarah replied. “The service will last for half an hour more. We have more important things to do.” Roger, it turned out hadn’t attended the anniversary service on that day as he had opted for extra duty at the engine shed. He was to return late in the evening and Sarah was keen on making sure that Roger and his boys did not miss out on the goodies.

The buggy wound its way through the dusty bazaar streets of the old town, then took a side road leading to the station before it pulled up beside a dull brown structure.

The women disembarked from the buggy. “This is where my son works,” said Mrs Milverton beaming proudly. Isabel glanced at the place and did not seem impressed. It looked dark and dismal, something like the remnants of an old factory.

The women went in through the gates and lifting up their skirts began to cross a set of tracks glistening in the morning sun. Before them loomed the engine shed, while two locos joined end to end were standing nearby, letting out a discharge of hot water and steam. Isabel seemed to hesitate, but Mrs Milverton prodded her on. “Come on,” she urged taking the young lady by the hand. “It is not going to jump on us! Come this way.”

Roger who had turned up at the spot looked pleased. “Nice to have a pretty young lady here today,” he said with a grin. Mrs Milverton laughed and exchanged a wink with Isabel . The place reeked of grease and engine smoke. Men dressed in overalls hurried by, there was the clanging of metal and the steady hum of machinery, while a little way off an engine stood spilling out water making a great noise, the boys moving around with giant spanners in their hands. Quite a bit like a surgeon dissecting a cadaver, thought Isabel. The whole place carried a thick layer of soot everywhere. Isabel wished she hadn’t worn her best dress today.

Two men were seated at the table in the loco foreman’s office and seeing the women they rose and offered seats. Isabel looked around and found herself in a dull looking room with a heavy wooden table, a few chairs and heaps of files stacked away in a dismal looking half-open cupboard.

“Where are the boys, son?” asked Mrs Milverton looking around as she settled in a chair. “I have got eats for you all tucked away in my hamper.”

Two young men in overalls peered into the office and seeing that Sarah was accompanied by a young lady, they signalled to the others. Soon a crowd of curious fellows had assembled in the room.

“Now just a minute, I didn’t summon any of you . . .” Roger began but he was cut short by Mrs Milverton’s booming voice. “Come on boys,” she cried, “come one, come all, join in the fun and help yourselves!” Cheers broke out; there was something like pandemonium in the foreman’s office. “Who’s the young lady ma’am?” cried one voice, while another yelled out “What have you got in the basket for us, Mrs Milverton?” Tea was ordered, and Sarah spread out her wares on the table: sandwiches, doughnuts, cakes, croissants, mutton patties . . . It was a surprise party for the boys, made even more grand by the arrival of a young lady. It was certainly an unusual occurrence, one that the boys would remember for a long time to come.

Percy the young apprentice seemed shy and reserved but he took everyone by surprise when he offered to show the young lady around.

Milverton sounded reluctant. “You wish to take her around?” he asked doubtfully. He had planned a class for the boys to explain the working of a steam injector.

“Very well,” he said at last, “but see that you are back soon. I am holding a class today, so make it a short trip!”

As Mrs Milverton settled down to have a word with Roger and his men, Isabel Thorpe and her young escort strolled out of the engine shed to explore. The warmth of the winter sun was delicious. Isabel felt relieved to be out in the open after spending nearly an hour shivering in the loco foreman’s office.

They walked past a row of engines stabled idly on tracks, each letting out steam softly as it waited its turn to be taken into the shed for adjustment and repair. Isabel glanced at these hulks, each with the letters G I P painted against the dull livery of the tender. Everything seemed so different here, it was a new world opened out before her. As Percy led the way Isabel found they were headed towards a large mound of coal. Close by a large beastly machine was making a loud throbbing noise.

“That’s the steam crane!” said Percy excitedly.

“Ah, a crane, is it?” said Isabel as she watched the bucket lower to scoop up coal from the heap below. The bucket rose, and stood motionless in the air as the operator turned aside to glance at the spectators. Then it rose higher up, swivelled to one side and turned over, emptying its contents into the bunker of the waiting engine.

“Miss, have you ever been to a engine shed before?” asked the young guide as they moved on.

“No Percy, I’ve never been to one. But it looks quite interesting. How long have you been here?”

“Over three years, Miss.”

“You didn’t go to school?”

“No. Never liked it.”

“That’s just too bad,” said Isabel scratching her chin thoughtfully. “You don’t know what you are missing out on.”

“But I like it here, Miss!” Percy insisted.

Engine smoke wafted across the yard, and Isabel held her handkerchief to her nose. “What does your mamma say—I mean, about your working here?”

“Mamma sailed back Home years ago. Couldn’t bear the heat here.”

Isabel almost felt sorry for the boy. Must be the son of one of those hard drinking fellows who does not mind putting his boy to work instead of sending him to school, she thought.

“Percy did you have cake?” Isabel asked kindly. “Come let’s return. Mrs Milverton’s got a basketful of goodies for us all.”

They had now reached the turntable. An engine was in sight, with two men pushing with all their might. One of the men spotted Percy and yelled out, “Lucky old boy Percy! Taking the missy out for a walk?”

Percy waved back, then turned to Isabel with a boyish smile. “Miss you won’t be cross if I ask you a question, will you?”

“Go on Percy, ask what you like.”

“The boys here said that you will—er—that you are going to become Mrs Milverton soon. Is it true?”

Isabel laughed out aloud. “I really don’t know Percy,” she said tossing her hair behind. “There are a good many things we don’t know about, aren’t there? Come let’s return to the office.”

“Goodnight Mrs Milverton”

Sarah pinned up her hair into a neat little bun while she studied herself in the mirror. For a woman of over sixty she had a good bearing ; her appearance was what men would describe as demure and ladylike; pleasantly plump, a shade sensitive, with a remarkable ability to make the most of what came her way. Today she had tried out a new recipe: bacon and coriander pancakes. While most people would prefer this at breakfast she found it was a welcome snack at any time of the day, particularly in the cold winter months when you loved to have something hot and spicy.

The winter air was cool and crisp. Isabel had taken a day off from the hospital and was here to spend the day with her friend. Mrs Milverton hummed a tune to herself as she drew aside the curtains flooding her living room with soft dappled sunshine. She glanced out of the window; it opened out onto a picturesque view; tall eucalyptus trees framing the hills in the distance, now disappearing into the golden haze beyond. The months had rolled by lazily; life seemed to be calm and placid. She turned momentarily to glance at Isabel; the girl was curled up on the sofa absorbed in a magazine, the perfect picture of contentment. The arrival of the young lady had made such a tremendous difference in her own life; what was once a gloomy, cheerless home now seemed to throb with joy. Many a time she had hoped that what was now a relationship of perfect understanding and love would eventually blossom into something of a more permanent nature, but she remained silent. The neighbours and the gossips at the club had nudged her often enough hinting that the girl would make a fine companion for her son, but until now Sarah had chosen to remain quiet on the subject.

Sarah’s new recipe was a triumphant success, and the women with plates heaped with pancakes moved out into the portico which opened out towards the west. It was flaming with golden yellow sunshine. Isabel sat on a cane chair resting her plate on her lap.

“How do you find them?” Mrs Milverton asked, beaming at Isabel as she took a seat opposite.

“They are delicious. I wish Roger was here with us. Will he be late in coming?”

“Oh never mind Roger; he will have his share tonight. I have enough batter left to turn out a dozen more. Here, have this chutney. These pancakes always go well with chutney.”

Isabel reached out for a small bowl containing what looked like a greenish concoction with a pleasant smell. “Ummm. . . this tastes really great. Have one more pancake Mrs Milverton?”

Sarah declined. “One is enough for me,” she said. “At your age I would have had six! Besides, I must really be getting on with my knitting. I have three more cardigans to work on!”

Isabel looked up at her friend. For over six months she was a visitor here, and each time she came she had found Sarah with her knitting bag beside her. It was clearly something more than a pastime; the old lady seemed to be a determined worker.

“Mrs Milverton, why do you always have to be with a ball of wool—do you knit for anyone?”

The old lady seemed amused with the question. “I don’t have growing children,” she said thoughtfully. “If I need a cardigan for myself I can go out and buy one. So if I knit, it is obviously for someone else, isn’t it?”

“Who do you knit for?”

“You don’t go to church often, do you? We hold charity shows. The proceeds go to hospitals, schools, orphanages . . . you see?”

Isabel seemed to grow enthusiastic. “Oh good! I wish I could help in church,” she said.

There was a tinkling of glasses as Himmat Singh, the attendant, appeared with a tray. “Good evening, Memsahib. I bring sweet wine for you. Also for younger memsahib.”

“Very good Himmat,” said Mrs Milverton. “You may bring in some soda too,” Then turning to the Isabel she said cheerily, “ It is sweetened grape wine dear, the kind you get in church. Here, let me pour you out a glass.”

The women sipped the wine in silence. Isabel found the taste strangely intoxicating as the first sip gave rise to the most delightful tingling sensation down her throat. She looked out of the portico where they sat and saw the red ball of fire disappear below the horizon. Sweet wine is much like the setting sun, she thought. It goes down quickly leaving a warm glow behind. Then turning to her companion once again she said, “Mrs Milverton, you didn’t tell me if there’s any way I could help in church.”

Sarah held her glass up to the light and considered. “There’s a lot you can do, my child,” she said dreamily, “but as they say, charity begins at home. Perhaps you could begin by doing something for me—or Roger, maybe.”

Isabel put her glass sharply down. It looked as if the wine was beginning to take effect and she wished she had not stayed on for so long.

“You know, dearie,” went on Sarah, “I have known you for so long that by now you are like one of the family. I was going to say that—oh well—how good it would be if you could step into Roger’s life; he needs someone who will be caring, you know. Besides, I’d love to have you around.”

The young lady straightened up and turned to face her companion. Sarah had her gaze full upon her now as she spoke in her dreamy, complacent tone. Isabel drained off her glass. She was quite unprepared for this last observation; it took some time for its full import to sink in.

She said slowly, “I suppose this means that you wish me to marry Roger? To be honest, Mrs Milverton, I have never thought of marriage so far.”

“Well, isn’t it time you begin to consider the possibility? . . . Of warm, sunny days ahead with a family of your own?”

“Er—Mrs Milverton, I have so many things on hand—I am right in the middle of a project I have set my heart on completing.”

“But marriage is not something to be despised,” Sarah gently persuaded. “No woman is ever quite complete until she marries. A happy marriage is the crown of a woman’s life.”

Isabel found herself fidgeting with the arm of her chair. As she thought over the matter, visions arose in her mind of being in the midst of domestic life presided over by the lean, weather-beaten, mustachioed locomotive foreman she had known for so long ; she, dainty and petite, her tiny hands ministering to the needs of the sick ; he, with his constant gabble characteristic of men of his profession. It seemed to be a far-fetched proposition.

It should not be imagined, however, that Milverton actually repelled the girl. He had always observed due courtesy in her presence ; on many an occasion he would join in when she and the old lady were conversing together on a subject which offered him scope to voice his views ; and at times when she stayed on late, he would even escort her back to her home late in the night. There was nothing essentially unpleasant with the man. Barring a touch of awkwardness which she attributed to that vague nervousness a man of his rank exhibits when he finds himself in the company of men of superior station, he seemed to be pleasant and agreeable in disposition. But notwithstanding these qualifications, she found herself unable to think in terms of a matrimonial alliance. He would make a splendid companion to a girl more suited to his temperament, she felt ; she had always wished him, as she had wished his mother, all the happiness there was in the world.

She now found herself confronted with an issue the outcome of which filled her with unease. Her relationship with Sarah was something she treasured above everything else. The old lady was something more than a friend to her; she was a counselor, a mother, a confidante’, a bosom friend. The most valuable things in life are only to be obtained at the cost of a sacrifice. She felt she had arrived at the crossroads in life: the junction where two roads open out, and you are asked to choose a path, a choice that will affect profoundly the whole course and destiny of life.

Isabel swung aside her skirts a little taking up a more comfortable position. She looked up to find Sarah still toying with her glass of wine. The lady seemed put out. She raised her glass to her lips, took a sip, swallowed, and turned to Isabel again. “Sooner or later, one has to settle down in life. None of us can really avoid it, can we?” she said with a cheerful smile.

Isabel thought for a moment before she spoke. “I can understand how you feel Mrs Milverton. But you must allow me time to arrive at a decision. Roger and I are the best of friends; we share a beautiful relationship. But again, it is only friendship. It has never been anything more than that.”

The old lady’s hand quivered. Marriage, she had held, was a simple affair wherein a man and a woman were joined together in a bond of love and holiness, sharing for evermore the joys, the triumphs, the sorrows and defeats of life together. Didn’t friendship lead on to love, and from thence to marriage? But the new age had brought along with it a new set of values. The new woman was here, and she was fastidious; she looked for a meaning and significance in everything.

Mrs Milverton looked up at the girl entreatingly. “My--son--adores you,” she spoke slowly in a tremulous voice.

It was an importunate plea, not a statement of a fact at all.

For a few moments there was a hushed silence. Finally Isabel spoke up. She moved her chair closer and leaned forward. “Mrs Milverton,” she said, “I shan’t be staying on here much longer. I am returning to England. I was here to do research—and to see what the country was like. My work is nearing its end. I must return.” She placed a hand on Sarah’s knee and went on gently: “I hope you will forgive me, Mrs Milverton. Both you and Roger have been so very good to me. I shan’t ever forget the good times we’ve had together. And I shan’t ever forget you.”

A light breeze sent leaves scurrying across the portico where the two sat. Sarah instinctively shaded her eyes to keep out the dust. She felt bewildered and shaken ; all her plans had come to nought, making her feel like a boy who has been refused the toy he has taken a fancy to.

Mrs Milverton put her glass down and brightened up a little. “Will you be leaving soon?” she asked in a subdued tone.

“Er—yes. If things go well, my thesis will be published by the end of next year. By the end of March I must be getting back. My ticket by steamer has been booked already.”

She rose slowly and bending over the old lady kissed her. “Shall I take leave now? I’ll come again. Shall we have dinner together this Saturday?. . . . Goodnight Mrs Milverton . . . ” She picked up her purse and made her way down the pathway toward the gate. She fumbled at the gate, turned around momentarily and smiled at the old lady. And then she was gone, pedaling softly down the street.

(Continued below)

SHORT STORY - IV

2011-10-08T23:07:00.000-07:00

Days of Gloom

“That just won’t do,” said Percy in a sing-song tone. “You have got to follow rules, and the rules say that you can’t use the same word twice.”

They were seated beside a window in Sarah’s living room playing a game of words. Mrs Milverton seemed to be behaving queerly these days. After Isabel did not turn up for a month she seemed to grow melancholic, and on Roger’s instructions Percy would put in a visit to the home every now and then. The old lady’s visits to the club had declined. She needed company, and had begun to take an almost childlike pleasure in having the boy around. She fussed over him, offered him cookies, and spoke caressingly. The presence of the lad decidedly had a soothing effect on her.

As Percy chattered away Mrs Milverton looked out of her window. Evening sunshine had given way to dusk, and then came the shadows of the night. Her garden lay beyond the window engulfed in a mist of gloom. The boy had grown silent as he struggled to find a word he found difficult. Sarah rose and stood by the window breathing in the scents of the night. A train whistled in the distance, its rattle lasting a long time before it died down in the distance.

Will she ever find true love, she wondered. And from across the silence beyond there seemed to be no answer forthcoming. Hadn’t she found love when she married the young Major from the army? Ah, he was a fine young man, with a broad chest and full of vigour, and full of jokes. He had held her close and kissed her, calling her his ‘sweet little dove’. And like a good little wife, she had found her joy in domestic life, a joy in belonging to someone who cared for her. She found herself swept away in an ecstasy of happiness.

Was true love everlasting? Or was it merely a phantom, a will-o’-the-wisp luring the simple hearted with an elusive charm? And from across the void beyond there was again no answer. For Sarah had been seeking for an abiding relationship, a relationship of love that went deeper than what you come across in superficial relationships, love that stood up to the vicissitudes and storms of life. Life was a hurricane sweeping by, unsympathetic, uncaring, unforgiving, sweeping aside everything that came its way, leaving in its wake heartbreak, loss, and suffering. She had her first glimpse of this when only a child of eight as she lay on her bed sobbing, holding her rag doll against her breast. She lived in a village in Derbyshire, famous for its coal mines. Those were the days when the miracle of the Industrial Revolution was sweeping across the world. Her earliest recollections were those of her mother holding her, gazing from over the hillside on the corn fields below, dotted with tiny villages, like a misty landscape spread before the eye. She worked as a seamstress, a calm, placid woman with dreamy eyes who rarely ever spoke a word of rebuke. The home, a two-room poorly affair was always bright with her mother’s cheerful presence, and littered with bits of colourful cloth, great balls of wool, and the accessories her mother needed for her work. Then the tide of fortune turned; they fell upon hard times; money grew scarce; and the mother developed symptoms of consumption. The spells of cough grew worse, the lady grew pale, her strength steadily waned. Then one evening when the mother felt the end was near, she drew her girl close to her and told her of a kindly vicar who would come over and take charge, sending her to boarding school. The little girl cuddled up to her mother that night as she had done so often before, holding her rag doll between them . . .

It was the beginning of a new life at the boarding school. The girl had carried along her doll with her. She held the doll close to her in bed, whispered in her ear, cried, and held her close all night. It brought back pictures from the past, glimpses of a life that was happy and carefree. And the girl grew, ever searching for a ray of her mother’s love in anyone she came upon, hoping to catch a glimpse of the face that was now forever a dream. The mistresses, stern and austere, looked upon her with disdain: ‘that queer little girl with eyes that are forever looking for something’; they shooed her away contemptuously; but the little girl would not give up easily; she was on a quest that would last a lifetime.

The years wore on, and the girl grew up. With the generous donations of a mission she went on to attend college, found a decent job, saved up money, then sailed to India with a friend in search of a new life, adventure—and love. She met young Milverton as she stood on the deck of the steamer watching the birds cawing and wheeling above over the sparkling waters of the Arabian Sea. He was a strapping young man, crisp, with fine manners and a confidence that brushed aside every impediment as though it were a matter of no consequence. She stood for hours on the deck conversing with the young man; he was a Major in the army on his way to join his regiment stationed in Alampore. She found a new tract of life opened up before her. She looked up at the man, fascinated. His clear, blue eyes shone down on hers; there was something in his manner which told her that everything would be well.

Disembarking from the steamer at Bombay they proceeded to Alampore, where they were married in a simple ceremony in St Bartholomew’s Church. He was dressed in aristocratic black; she in her sparkling white gown felt she was the grandest lady around. The Major took his wife to live with him in the Cantonment area. The Cantonment with its colourful bazaar, the buggies and hand-drawn palanquins, the turbaned merchants and fruit-sellers, and the quaint little Club opened up a new panorama of life she had never witnessed before. The ladies of the neighbourhood seemed to be able to sniff out her origin and tended to eye her with suspicion at first; but Sarah had a way with strangers and new acquaintances that soon won them over. She settled down to a life of housekeeping, making her bungalow a pleasant and homely place to which her husband could retreat each day. For two whole years she was perfectly happy. Until the first signs of the breach began to appear . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Mrs Milverton found that she had strayed out of her home lost in reverie. She walked slowly down the gravel pathway. An orange moon rose among the trees; she could see the outlines of the branches and leaves silhouetted against the faintly glowing sky. She strolled to where her crocuses grew and stroked the petals gently as though caressing herself. Why does life always bring with it bitterness, anguish and loss? Why can’t we ever find everlasting happiness and peace? Her own life, she mused, had begun on such promising lines in this far away land. She had found perfect happiness in the company of the man she loved. Then came the breach when she discovered her man on close terms with a young lady in the Cantonment. The discovery of this shocking fact was followed by fuller knowledge and confirmation, then the confrontation, the ensuing rows, the final separation . . . They were bitter memories, bitter to the taste, and she had best put them away she decided.

A bell trilled and Mrs Milverton started. Was it Isabel who had arrived on some business at this hour? Her footsteps crunched along the gravel pathway that led to the gate; but it was only a passing cyclist hurrying on his errand, disappearing round the corner. Sarah retraced her footsteps along the pathway. The lamp in the portico burned steadily as ever, casting a warm, orange glow around. She went back to her room and seated herself by the window. Beyond stretched the Cantonment Road, the oil lamps strung together like pearls glowing softly against velvety black. Faintly moving figures could be seen, gentlemen and ladies with their children returning home after an evening at the club. What a fickle thing is human love—so easily offended, and so very uncertain. First it was the Major, and now Isabel. No one can love with the steadfast, unchanging love of a mother. No one. When the hour of testing came, they all chose to go their own way unmindful of the desolation they left behind. And life marched on, heedless and uncaring, towards some distant, unknown goal.

The Coming of Dawn

Were it not for the crowds that throng its concourse and the clock tower that sits atop it, the railway station of Alampore would easily pass for a stylish bungalow. The main building which houses the offices and waiting halls is a brickwork structure decorated at intervals with stone carvings showing important personalities, with a gabled roof covered with tiles. When the station was first built a clock atop the main entrance was not thought necessary. Then in the first decade of the twentieth century, on the orders of Colonel Townsend who had newly taken over as Agent of the G. I. P. Railway, a clock tower was added. There were rumours that the Colonel arriving in Alampore on business had alighted from his train, and on his way out, looked up hoping to set his watch to station time. The absence of a clock above the station caused him such great distress and annoyance, they said, that he lost no time in ordering one to be erected. At about this time a second clock tower made its appearance in the town. Beginning at the station is the main thoroughfare that leads straight for over two miles leading to the Town Hall. This too has a clock, but with four faces. Townspeople passing this way often glanced up, setting their watches by these clocks; they soon came to accept these timekeepers as something that set apart the town as unique, for in no other city of the province would you chance upon two clock faces looking upon each other from opposite ends of a common avenue. And thus, down through the years these clocks stood facing each other, each looking from its lofty station on the town below with a kind of benevolence reminding its inhabitants of the passage of the day with unswerving faithfulness.

It was a cold winter evening when a horse-buggy was seen pulling up at the railway station. Mrs Milverton looking tired and worn out stepped out of her buggy drawing her shawl around her. She was dressed in a plain skirt and coat, with a scarf around her head and carried in one hand a bag. A Morris standing nearby shot out its beam of light on her, purring to life as it prepared to leave. The lady entered the main concourse from one side where sat the lepers, the lame and the blind, the untouchables. Tiny fires could be seen lit up by the roadside where the evening meal was being cooked with the alms they had gathered during the day. A woman dressed in a saree appearing out of nowhere brushed past Mrs Milverton with her baby following, desperately in tears. Sarah fished out a coin from her purse and pressed it into an outstretched palm.

Further on the crowd was getting more populous. Mrs Milverton glanced up at the station clock ; it showed five minutes to seven; she had twenty more minutes to go. She ascended the steps slowly; a porter offered to help her, but the woman did not notice him.

She was now on the platform with its dim row of oil lamps, the crowd swelling and restless all around, men shouting, cajoling, families seated on the floor with huge bales of luggage beside them. She found a place underneath a cluster of lamps, close to where the Ticket Collector stood. Resting her bag on the floor, she took a deep breath and looked around. It was a familiar scene. Number 2 Down Mail was generally here on time; it came all the way from Peshawar far away to the north; it halted a good twenty minutes while the engine was changed before proceeding onwards to Bombay. But today things looked different. Today’s evening train somehow seemed to be more significant for it was to carry someone important, someone who mattered. In a little while from now there would be a small crowd of English girls to see off their young colleague. What will she say to me when she sees me here? thought Mrs Milverton. And will she be pleased to see me?

Just then a shrill voice called out: “Mrs Milverton, I say! Is that you?” Startled by the voice, Sarah turned around and found herself face to face with station master Barlow, an old acquaintance.

“What’s the matter, Mr Barlow?” Sarah asked with a look of concern.

“There’s someone here to see you, ma’am—over there in my office.”

“Who is it, Mr Barlow?”

“Er—I can’t say. Come right away.”

The old lady picked up her bag and followed the station master in silence. Inside the office she found a man sitting under the light of lamp tapping away busily at a telegraph transmitter. The man paused briefly to glance at the visitor, then resumed his work at the key. On one side in a corner of the room was Isabel seated on a chair.

“Mrs Milverton I knew you would come!” the young lady said, rising.

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Dear me, isn’t that you, my girl? But what are you doing here at this time? Your train is due any time, you know.”

Isabel glanced at her watch and spoke a word to the station master who nodded. The two women strolled out of the office. They picked their way through the bustling swarm of people coming upon a secluded spot close to the luggage and parcel office. The crowd of travellers was thin here and Mrs Milverton rested her bag on the floor.

“I was looking for you when Mr Barlow called me in saying there’s someone here to see me,” Sarah said. “Here’s something I’ve got for you.” She unbuttoned her bag and held out a cardigan. Looking up at the girl with a wistful smile she said, “you always liked pink, so I knitted a pink sweater for you. And there’s a pudding inside you’ll love. . .”

There was a pause.

“Mrs Milverton,” said Isabel, “it is all so very nice, but—er—how shall I explain? It has all changed; I am not going anywhere!”

The old lady put the cardigan back and looked up with questioning eyes. “You aren’t leaving, you say? But didn’t you tell me you are leaving today by the night train?”

“I did say that—and I have changed my mind.”

A goods train on a nearby line began to move out, the wagons creaking and clanging as though they were reluctant to commence upon their journey.

“You know, Mrs Milverton,” Isabel explained, “I have been thinking on this issue since a long time and it finally occurred to me that the experience I’ve gained here won’t be of much use to me if I return to England.” She paused as a wheelbarrow laden with luggage was seen approaching making a great din. The women moved aside to make way.

“My research has to do with the traditional cures practiced here in India for centuries,” went on Isabel. “And I can’t see what use this can possibly be to me back in England. Dr Martin was quite emphatic on this point, and he has helped me to finally see sense. This country needs you more than your own homeland does, he said . . . And then I thought of you and Roger and all the fun we’ve had together, and I felt kind of homesick at the thought of leaving you all behind . . . ”

Sarah looked at the girl incredulously; it was new development she had never anticipated before.

“I am staying on here and shall continue in Bruce Memorial,” Isabel said. Then she stepped closer and took Sarah’s hand in her own. “Mrs Milverton, I feel so lonely at times. I have no one in the world whom I can turn to—I grew up in an orphanage, you know. I have been such a beast. Won’t you forgive me?” There was a tremor in the girl’s voice as she spoke. “Can’t you ever be—I mean . . . can’t you be my friend again . . . you are so much like a mamma to me . . . ”

Sarah looked up at Isabel not seeming to comprehend the meaning of the girl’s words. She was in a daze; she could not accept what she heard. The women stood on the platform holding each other’s hands, each lost in the other, each feeling a warmth and comfort in the other’s presence she had missed for so long. Then slowly as the light began to dawn, Mrs Milverton’s eyes grew moist; she drew the girl close to her and hugged her. “Dearie . . . ” she began, but her words choked and she could go on no further.

There was a sudden rush of activity; people around were beginning to rise, some dashing hurriedly, others peering over the edge of the platform. The crowd jostled and swelled, travellers with their great bundles were falling over one another, their cries rising till the station seemed to be filled with the shouts and shrieks of men. A dazzling light appeared in the distance, growing nearer each moment followed by a mighty rumble as the train steamed in, but Mrs Milverton could not care less. She stood quietly in a corner with the young lady beside her, watching the jostling crowd, the carriages drawing in one by one, slowly grinding to a halt, porters shouting. The evening Mail which had filled her with dark forebodings now seemed to be a messenger of cheer. Hadn’t she hoped against hope that the girl she loved would come looking for her as a child looks for its mother when he has lost his way in the marketplace? Her dream was now a reality no one could ever change now. Her girl was beside her and no one, no power could possibly snatch her away. She could feel in her heart a warmth, a lightness that had never touched her before. Trains came here every day, and trains left; what did it matter if the Mail came into this cantonment station and pulled out carrying with it a mass of humanity? Nothing could ever come in the way of her happiness now.

The old lady stood awhile pondering over these things, rejoicing in her heart. She turned to the girl standing beside and found her staring ahead with wide eyes as though lost and alone. No, she would not leave the girl on her own. She stooped to pick up her bag. Then without a moment’s thought she took the girl by the hand and began to lead the way out of the station towards the waiting buggy.

...............................................

NUMBER 1 DOWN MAIL

2011-08-04T07:19:00.000-07:00

South Eastern Railway: March to New Millennium, by R. R. Bhandari; South Eastern Railway, Kolkata, 2001; 152 pages, Rs 1000.

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My first acquaintance with the South Eastern Railway was made on a bleak winter night long ago as I stood on Jabalpur station with a ticket to Seoni. On one side was the broad gauge line stretching away into the darkness, a monstrous engine coughing and heaving as it shunted away a line of carriages. The other side of the platform seemed more friendly with a crowd of people busy chattering away. After a long wait the Jabalpur-Nainpur Passenger arrived. When I clambered in I was relieved to find ample room to sit. The train whistled and moved on into the night and we were soon rattling along through territory unfamiliar to me.

Nainpur, a large narrow gauge junction came late in the night and provided a break. The through carriage I was travelling in was empty now and a pointsman came along and uncoupled the vehicle. The few hours I spent on Nainpur station that night constitute one of the most charming railway experiences I have ever had. Having discovered that I had the whole carriage to myself, I decided to have a late night cup of station tea. The pleasure this gave me is difficult to put into words, for peering out through the window afforded a most spectacular night view, the yard ablaze with three locomotives in brisk steam as though set for action, their headlamps piercing the darkness with dazzling arcs of light. Ah, the pleasures of narrow gauge travel !

The South Eastern Railway is much more than a web of narrow gauge lines; it is a vast network spread over seven states of the Indian union with vertices at Howrah, Vishakapatnam, Nagpur and Katni. It grew out of that revered name, the Bengal Nagpur Railway, the railway that employed Beyer Garratts to haul coal trains over mountainous inclines, that mighty system that would go on to serve steel plants, ports, mines and coalfields, earning for itself a name as the country’s premier steel and coal carrying railway.

Strange though it may seem, the Bengal Nagpur Railway was not a part of Lord Dalhousie’s original scheme to unite the subcontinent with a network of railways. Following the inauguration of the Bombay-Thana route in 1853, the network of lines began to steadily spread. On the Great Indian Peninsula route, the line slowly inched forward till by March 1870 a through connection had been established between Bombay and Allahabad via Jabalpur, while in an easterly direction, a line branching off from Bhusaval had been laid three years earlier connecting Bombay with the city of Nagpur.

A cursory glance at an atlas will reveal that this scheme left large tracts of land to the south of Howrah, Orissa and the Chhattisgarh province without the benefit of a railway. The impetus to make these regions accessible by rail came when the great famine of 1878 arose, and on the recommendation of the government a meter gauge link called the Nagpur Chhattisgarh Railway was opened in 1882 connecting Nagpur with Rajnandgaon 150 kilometers away, with railway workshops at Motibagh, Nagpur.

Further developments were soon to follow. The year 1887 saw the establishment of the Bengal Nagpur Railway company with Sir T. R. Wynne as its first Agent. The BNR was formed with the express purpose of upgrading the Nagpur—Rajnandgaon link to broad gauge and extend the route through Bilaspur meeting up with the East Indian Railway at Asansol, thereby providing a shorter route connecting Bombay with Calcutta. A branch line from Bilaspur to Katni was also envisaged ; together these two links would open up an avenue for trade between the fertile lands of Chhattisgarh with the rest of India, help in famine relief work, and equally important, provide ready access to various coalfields in the region served by the railway.

Such were the humble beginnings of the Bengal Nagpur Railway. In time, the railway was ‘pushed further and further through the fertile plains of Chhattisgarh’, while on the western side, an extensive network of narrow gauge lines known as the Satpura Lines was built connecting Jabalpur with Gondia, Mandla Fort, Chhindwara and Nagpur, with Nainpur as the focal point of the system.

Interestingly, the locomotive and carriage & wagon workshop in Nagpur had to undergo modifications on two separate occasions within the first twenty years of its opening. Beginning as a meter gauge facility that served the Nagpur Chhattisgarh Railway, the workshop was refitted to handle broad gauge repair when the line to Rajnandgaon was converted to BG in 1889, and thus it remained for over two decades until it was finally decided to set up a comprehensive repair facility at Kharagpur. Spread over an area of 0.61 square kilometers, the Kharagpur workshop became the BNR’s prime overhaul centre undertaking all kinds of work ranging from periodic overhaul of broad gauge steam locomotives to repairs and overhaul of timber bodied passenger carriages and 4-wheeler goods wagons. Following the establishment of the Kharagpur workshop in 1904, the Motibagh Workshop in Nagpur, now made redundant, was altered a second time, this time preparing it for the narrow gauge stock of the Satpura Lines.

Shri Bhandari’s work is a scholarly treatise that takes the reader on a guided tour through the South Eastern Railway archives. The book is replete with facts, figures and tables of technical data ; but Bhandari is careful to intersperse his story with matters of more general interest as when you come upon an account of the difficult terrain, inhospitable climate, and the consequent fever contracted by members of a survey party led by an English engineer, A. C. Newcombe, who was exploring the area around Raipur for a possible rail route at the close of the nineteenth century.

But that is not all. Further on in the text, Shri Bhandari enthralls the reader with a memoir penned by John Mitchell in 1934 telling of his journey from Bombay to Calcutta by Mail. Like the great Frontier Mail of the BB&CI Railway, the Bengal Nagpur Railway introduced in 1900 a fast service known as the Overland Mail connecting Bombay with Calcutta. Old timers often look back with nostalgia, speaking in glowing terms of the speed and the excellent services offered on board this deluxe train. Number 1 Down Mail was to become the hallmark of punctuality and service, a fact attested to in no uncertain terms when John Masters dedicated his Bhowani Junction to the legendary Mail.

“Nagpur at 9.15,” says Mitchell in his delightful account. "Here we breakfasted. Here too, we left the Great Indian Peninsula system to enter the Western gateway of the Bengal Nagpur Railway, which line will carry us forward to our destination, Calcutta, another 703 miles to the east. . . The train stopped for thirty minutes to change engines, so I left the carriage to look around. The same medley of crowds dashing hither and thither, the same cries in unknown tongues. . . As I wandered along the platform I saw something new at every step. The engine was being backed onto its train and I watched the operation with interest. The locomotive, a GS type mail engine shone resplendent in the Indian sunshine, eager for its run to Bilaspur, 257 miles away. I read the builder’s nameplate on the smokebox, ‘R. Stephenson & Sons Ltd., Darlington, England,’ and I felt a new sense of pride in my old hometown so far away. . ."

Shri Bhandari knows how to select his material. He enlightens, teaches, delights, putting forth his ideas with masterly skill, using language that is reminiscent of the style of a dignified English gentleman of the old order. Here is a book that will give hours of pleasure to the enthusiast while being at the same time an authoritative source of reference on the origin and growth of the South Eastern Railway.
.
Ravindra Bhalerao

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Notes:

1) A fascinating article titled Architectural Heritage of Indian Railways in PDF by Shri R. R. Bhandari may be read here:

http://www.rites.com/rites-journal/R.%20R.%20Bhandari.pdf

2) The full text of South Eastern Railway: March to New Millennium may be read on the following page:

http://cris-ser.cris.org.in/CRIS/general/book_rrb/
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Shri R. R. Bhandari of the Indian Railway Service of Mechanical Engineers served as General Manager of South Eastern Railway before being appointed late in 2005 to the office of Member (Mechanical) of the Railway Board, New Delhi. Following his retirement from railway service he served for a period as Administrative Member of the Central Administrative Tribunal, Jodhpur. Despite his onerous responsibilities, Shri Bhandari has found time to pursue his fascination with railway heritage ; he has authored over a dozen books on India’s railway history earning him the reputation of being the leading rail historian of the day.

EARLY RAILWAY SIGNALLING

2011-07-25T01:02:00.000-07:00

The year was 1836. A young Englishman by the name of William Cooke was studying anatomy in Germany. One day, he chanced to run across a demonstration of Schilling’s electric telegraph. It then occurred to Cooke that in the electric telegraph—till then looked upon as a mere toy—there lay a device likely to be of the utmost use in railway operations.

On his return home from Germany, Cooke concentrated upon producing instruments adapted for railway use. He also came in contact with Professor Wheatstone, who had been interested in electricity for some years. In June 1837, Cooke and Wheatstone in partnership, took out their patent—which was destined to become epoch-making throughout the world of railways—“for improvement in giving signals and sounding alarms in distant places.”

Indeed the railway signal system proper, with all its elaborate safety devices grew around the Block telegraph system, and it was the invention of the telegraph which really paved the way for progress in signalling throughout the five continents. Till then the safe running of trains was attempted by keeping a ‘time interval’ between the trains. Under this system, trains were allowed to follow one another at a certain interval based on the assumption that the preceding train must have reached the next station at a certain time. This was always a risky assumption fraught with dangerous consequences.

To avoid such accidents, it became apparent that perfect security could be ensured only by providing a definite ‘space interval’ between trains. The development of the electric telegraph provided the necessary means of communication between a pair of stations controlling the dispatch of trains to maintain an adequate space between trains.

Space Interval

This idea of having a space interval between trains using electrical apparatus came to be known as the block system. It is simple in theory. The railway track is divided into a number of sections of a given length, each known as a block. On either side of each block, are fixed block instruments which are installed at the station or cabin. Each cabin is responsible for working a group of signals and points in the vicinity. The block instrument is so designed and interlocked with the track and signals that only one train can use the block at a time. The block sections thus ensure the necessary space interval between trains.

The next improvement in railway signaling is ‘interlocking’. The evolution of interlocking provides an instance of a labour saving device concocted by one of the pioneer signalmen in England. Incidentally, the first railway signal itself—a lighted candle—was the bright idea of an ingenious station master at Hartlepool on one of the pioneer railways of Northern England some 150 years ago. He was tired of leaving his snug retreat in cold weather to furnish a hand-signal to an approaching train. He, therefore, placed a lighted candle on the table in his office, close to the window, to convey the necessary message to the driver regarding the state of the track ahead.

Similarly, a signalman employed at Walford about 1846, had to run from one signal-post to the other for operating signals provided at various points. In order to save his legs he conceived the idea of attaching a weight to the signal and working it by means of a wire which he carried to his hut. This idea was adopted and thus originated the practice of concentrating the levers working points and signals at a convenient spot. A shed was built around the lever-frame to shelter the signalman from the weather. The term ‘box’ or ‘cabin’ arose from this development. The first cabin was set up at Bricklayers Arma Junction in 1856.

British Pattern

In India, where the development of railway signalling has in many respects followed British practice, the system of cabin interlocking was designed and installed by Messrs Saxby & Farmer (India) as early as 1893. The ex-GIP Railway was the first to adopt this system on a large scale on its Bombay – Delhi route. Later other railways followed suit.

Mechanical interlocking has still some disadvantages. The distance over which rod-worked points can be operated is very limited. Hence several cabins are required in a large station yard. And to set up a route for a train, a dozen or more levers have to be operated. This is time consuming and tiresome for the signalman.

This was appreciated by George Westinghouse, the inventor of the air-brake, who applied the principle of this invention to the operation of railway points and signals by compressed air. Since the lever frame was then only necessary for controlling the agency working the points and signals, miniature levers only are required and from this stage developed the power signal frame as we see in our suburban sections.

Introduction of power signalling not only permitted points and signals to be operated in a very short time, but also extended the distance over which they could be worked. Indeed, the whole picture is changing with the development of automatic interlocking, colour light signaling apparatus, remote control and track circuiting.

The block instruments are replaced by illuminated track diagrams on which the position of all trains on the section is indicated. Signal and point positions are electrically repeated on the power frame and electric interlocking circuits prevent point operation while trains are passing over them, or signals being prematurely operated before routes are clear.

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K. R. Vaidyanathan

WAITING AT FEROKE STATION

2011-04-27T22:05:00.000-07:00

By Radha Nair

First published in Hindustan Times (Mumbai edition), 26 February 2008.

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TRAVEL ALWAYS HOLDS a lot of excitement for me. Equally, soaking in the atmosphere of an almost forgotten tiny station is also most enjoyable for me.

I had been sitting on a hard bench for an hour on the Feroke station railway platform. It had been raining heavily. Then it changed to drizzle.

Rain water sloped down the tin sheet awning, and fell in liquid ropes to the uneven ground. It collected into small pools, or dribbled into the cracks, which had been widened by blades of grass springing up in gleeful green.

The platform was quite empty except for a stray dog, which came up to me wagging its tail and settled down close by, looking up at me hopefully with huge mournful eyes.

The faint light cast by the few lamps on the platform, set widely apart on tall wrought iron poles, spread slippery, silver shine on the rain washed rail tracks. In the shadows, a man leant against the closed doors of the waiting room.

In the hush, I heard the coarse scratch of a match, and turned to see in its brief flame, a face time etched and worn. He cupped the flame against a gust of wet wind. Soon only an orange dot glowed in the darkness.

Just behind me, the station master’s room blazed with light. He was busy answering the wireless. He buttoned and unbuttoned his black coat in impatience. The train from Ernakulam to Mangalore was late. Just then the phone rang. He grabbed it. He called out, “Velayudah” !

Soon Velayudan, emerged from the gloom, gathered up the thick cotton sheet which he had spread on a bench, and drew it close round his shoulders. He knotted his turban tightly round his bald head. He took the green signal lamp and walked to the dark end of the platform. As he swung along, the light from the lamp cast a greenish bloom on the rough stones of the station walls.

A metal rod was struck with such force that it set my teeth on edge. The beggars who slept behind the fenced-off side of the arched entrance leading to the platform, mumbled in their sleep and turned on their sides. This station had been their sanctuary for years. They had nowhere else to go. Their best friends were the trains which passed through, night and day. The sharp whistle, the hiss of steam, the surge of passengers, and the way the ground shook, when the iron horse thundered past... this was the music of their lives.

Through the curtain of rain, I looked at the shimmer of lamp light from the opposite platform. Some people scrambled down from that platform and ran across the lines just before the train arrived, to clamber up again to safety onto the platform where I sat.

These people always loved this little nocturnal flirtation with danger. Whatever else there was on hand for them, it could wait. But this wild dash over the rail track, just minutes before a train arrived, held some adrenalin pumping, important moments for them.

One single clang reverberated across the silent platform. I could make out nothing in the dark. Then a faint whistle floated through the air. A beam of light cut through the sooty dark. The shuddering sounds of the approaching train made me look more carefully.

Soon at the far end. I could see the engine, followed by the curve of compartments behind it, as it took the sharp bend. Faster and faster it came, until it swept in most dramatically into the station and past me, in one earth shaking, blurred rush of sound and movement.

PAPER LINE CLEAR

2011-04-20T23:23:00.000-07:00

IT IS TIME I INTRODUCE YOU BOYS to an elderly gentleman here called Mr Vinod Nanekar. You have already read his writings on this site. Nanekar retired several years back as Deputy Station Superintendent of Nagpur Railway station. He is getting on in years, and yet does not have a single white hair on his head. When I asked him about this, he said his hair was naturally black. I find it difficult to believe this. I would rather believe a friend who once told me that Vinod is a first-rate liar!! I feel certain he uses hair dye, but doesn’t want others to know. Just scroll down to his post titled Suspension Order and you will see what I mean.

Engine drivers these days are educated men, but in early days, steam drivers were mostly uneducated folks. Most drivers began their career as a young apprentice mechanics in the locoshed, not unlike the young chhokras you see in scooter repair shops on the roadside. Many of them could not even read or write.

Nanekar tells me of a case long ago when the home signal of the wayside station where he was posted, was out of order. A semaphore signal is so constructed that if it fails to function for any reason, it drops down automatically to the STOP aspect. When a train arrives it has to halt till such time as a pointsman arrives with a letter of authority from the Station Master allowing the train to draw forward.

A goods train had arrived at his home signal , Nanekar said, and was awaiting further clearance. The ASM on duty was too tired to fill up the form of authority, so he asked his pointsman to walk down the line and tell the driver to bring in his train. The pointsman did as he was told and returned dejected. The driver was a conscientious worker it seemed, and he refused to start without a proper authority. When the pointsman narrated how adamant the driver was, the ASM drew out a blank form, and scribbled the following words on it : “You bloody bast.., you come here AT ONCE !!” The messenger was dispatched again. This time the driver heeded the 'authority', for he was illiterate, and brought in his train. Both the driver and the guard sauntered into the ASM’s office. “Are bhaiyya,” said the ASM to the driver, “why do you make such a fuss over an authority? You already knew the signal wasn’t working for the past several days. Do you realize what I have written here on this form?”

The poor driver was forced to digest the station master’s words of wisdom.

What the ASM did with regard to the letter of authority is an example of what is known on the railways as “dilatory working”, just another term for an unwillingness to follow the full recommended procedure. The rules are tiresome to study, even more tiresome to follow at times. And yet they have been worked out with the utmost care and thought, and if followed to the letter, will keep accidents and mishaps at bay. Many times ASM’s and other staff don’t realize this, and turn to ‘shortcuts’, little realizing the grave danger in using these quick and ready methods which they have come to love.

On the night of 5 May 2005 over 200 passengers were traveling on a passenger train bound for Surat. The Jalgaon—Surat No. 114 Passenger train had pulled into Bardoli station at around 3-30 in the morning. While sleepy eyed passengers were wondering what was holding up the train, Assistant Station Master A. K. Kesari was having an argument with the driver. A goods train had left Bardoli an hour ago on the same track, and Kesari felt sure it had reached the next station, Chalthan. The signal did not relay if the goods train had passed Chalthan, and Kesari was in no mood to verify its position from the control room.

When electrical instruments fail to give an indication of line clear, the ASM has to ascertain the position concerning the train ahead, from the next station as well the control room, using his phone before dispatching the train on paper line clear. Instead, ASM Kesari boldly assumed that the goods train had cleared the next station, and proceeded to prepare a letter of authority for the Passenger train to move on. The driver was wiser. When he saw that the authority was issued without consulting the control room, he refused to budge from the spot. Finally Kesari contacted control and found that the goods train was still on its way, that it had not reached the next station. He immediately cancelled the letter authorizing the driver to move on.

Had the driver started from Bardoli under the Station Master’s letter of authority, a major mishap would have taken place. An enquiry was held the same day, and Western Railway suspended ASM Kesari and Traffic Superintendent Rajkamal, in charge of the area. When asked , Divisional Railway Manager Arunendra Kumar agreed that there was an error. “There was no damage,” he said, “ but if one person made a slip, other persons involved in train operating should know these things will not be tolerated.”

Ravindra Bhalerao

ADVENTURE IN AMLA

2011-04-13T00:16:00.000-07:00

AMLA IS A MEDIUM SIZED junction about 3 hours run from Nagpur on the Grand Trunk route. Proceeding towards the north, we first have Nagpur, then Amla, followed by Betul, Itarsi, and then Bhopal. Long before electric and diesel came on the scene, Amla was a small sized railway centre, with a branch line going to Parasia. There was a regular Passenger Train service connecting Amla and Parasia. Those who have stayed in this area will also remember the steam run Bhopal--Parasia Fast Passenger train which would pass through Amla late in the night.

Amla also had a sizeable goods yard, and of course , a loco shed. The Grand Trunk Express halted here, as did the Dakshin, and several other trains too. I have been through Amla several times while on my way from Itarsi to Nagpur back in the 1980s. And I unfailingly traveled by the Itarsi--Nagpur Passenger. Once I even had to spend the whole night at Amla, seated on the platform. It was a tiresome experience, but I had a great time nonetheless.

Mr Vinod Nanekar, Deputy Station Superintendent of Nagpur railway station tells me that once, a long time ago, a problem had arisen in Amla. Wagons had accumulated in the yard, and the staff were at a loss to understand how to clear up the mess. Amla phoned Nagpur control apprising them of the situation, and so, that very evening, an official from the Operating Department was dispatched from Nagpur to study the situation and suggest a remedy. Cases such as this are not uncommon. Yards do get out of hand at times, and when this happens, an official is sent who will suggest for instance that six wagons lying at this corner be attached to a certain train, another three lying over there be taken to a nearby station and stabled till further orders are received, and so on.

Our official from Nagpur arrived in Amla travelling in his saloon, and set about doing his work. When night came, his saloon was stabled at one end of the platform for him, so that he would have no trouble in entering or getting off the carriage.

An Express was due to arrive late in the night and Amla found themselves in a fix. Both platforms were occupied, one with the saloon, the other with an empty row of carriages. The ASM on duty ordered that the saloon be shunted to a nearby track, as a single carriage would take less time to be shunted out than whole line of carriages. Soon a shunting engine came in and stood a little distance on the same track as the saloon car. The pointsman standing close to the carriage gave his signal and the engine backed up with a mighty woof, but in doing so the driver made an error in judgement and banged against the saloon a bit harder than usual. The official within was jolted from his sleep, and woke up. He was in a towering rage. He climbed down from his carriage, and gave the driver and pointsman a piece of his mind. Then he strode along the platform to the ASM’s office to report the matter.

While the shunting staff stood beside, terrified of the punishment that would be meted out, a phone call was made to Nagpur. Soon the official in Amla was yelling into the phone telling his superior in Nagpur about what had taken place.

It is impossible to say what Nagpur had to say on the phone. It appears the boss in Nagpur wasn’t too pleased hearing such a complaint coming in the dead of the night. Maybe he yelled back saying “What nonsense, I didn’t send you to Amla for sleeping in your saloon!!” Whatever it is he may have said, Nanekar tells me that our official soon calmed down, to everyone’s enormous relief. He put down the receiver and looked around sheepishly. Then he told the men that it was quite okay, that he would return to his saloon, and they could resume with their shunting !!!

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Ravindra Bhalerao

VINTAGE PICTURES

2011-04-07T08:46:00.000-07:00

Back in February this year, I received a delightful set of pictures from Dr Ardeshir B Damania showing views of Devlali and Bhandup stations back in 1925. "Last week I was in Mumbai," wrote Dr Damania, "and went through my father's photo album and also found pictures of De

vlali Station and Bhandup station from 1925. Devlali was one of my father's favorite hill stations and Bhandup was where my father and his college (VJTI) friends would go for excellent toddy from the date palm trees.

"Notice that Bhandup had overhead electric traction already installed in 1925. There was no electric traction at Devlali in 1925."

Readers of this site may wish to compare the view of Bhandup station with what it looks like now. Here's a colour snap provided very kindly by Rajendra Aklekar, which shows the same tiled office which is the Stations Master's office now.

Many, many thanks both to Dr Damania and Raj for the lovely updates.
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Picture Courtesy:
Upper and middle : Mr Behramji M. Damania (1893 - 1982)
Lower : Rajendra Aklekar

THE MAGIC OF BEING MISS MARGARET

2011-04-05T00:34:00.000-07:00

Radha Nair has sent in another piece telling about her tuition teacher, Miss Margaret. The writing has a fairy-like quality to it, and will make you want to dip into it again and again . . . Many, many thanks Radha for this delightful masterpiece !!
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SCHOOL WAS NO WHERE in my horizon at age six. Instead I sat for two hours with Miss Margaret, my tuition teacher, in a room in No. 1 “Rail View”. That was the only time my mind did not chug – chug off, to the sounds of the trains passing through Dadar station just outside my window.

I was more fascinated by the lovely dresses she wore, beautifully flared out from the tiniest of waists, which she swung daintily from side to side as she clicked her way, into our house on her very high patent leather heels. I was so spell bound that after she left I practiced her walk, only to fall flat on my face with each dismal attempt.

Each day she wore a new dress with exquisite lace collars and boat necks, silver brooches on broad lapels, blouses made of the most delicate Broderie Anglais, and three-tiered polka dotted skirts from which sometimes peeped, lace-edged satin slips, the likes of which I had never seen before.

There was always a single strand of pearls at her throat. And when she settled down, I was drowned in the most wonderful perfume you could imagine. I don’t remember a thing of what she taught me from the text books. For, to a girl of six, there were other things of lasting appeal.

But I do remember the way she sat, always upright. I watched the way she dabbed delicately at the light film of sweat on her upper lip with a silk hand kerchief; or the way she turned the pages of the book, leaving behind the memory of her perfumed touch. I loved to hear the rustle of her skirts as she moved slightly forward in her chair. Her hair was always brushed to perfection, cut in wavy layers and therefore having an exquisite bounce.

But what riveted me was her excellent pronunciation, and the way her Revlon lip-sticked mouth formed perfect O’s, or the way she bit her lower lip ever so slightly for the V’s.

When she was served tea, politely, she nibbled delicately at the biscuits, and sipped her tea without a sound. When she left, there was the imprint of her lipstick on the rim of the cup. One day I promised myself, “Thou shalt have all the sailor collars in the world, pick and choose this perfume and that, and yes, thou shalt paint thy lips a ravishing pink”. I think she found me alright, for never once did she chide me, or pull my ear, or have a word with my mother. And therefore I loved her all the more.

Instead, for Christmas, she called me over to her house. I just don’t remember where it was, but I think we took a tram. When she opened the double doors, into which had been set panes of colored glass, they lent that much more magic to the sunlight which fell through it.

It was a home so very cozy that she let us into, with soft drapes letting in gauzy light, plump cushions that made you want to sit a little longer, chiming clocks, and carved furniture, Bing Crosby’s Xmas carols from the radio-gram, and heavenly smells of Anglo Indian food cooking drifting from the kitchen.

There was a tall Christmas tree all done up in tinsel, and shiny baubles. Tea was served in the finest china. I was so awe struck, comparing my staid , in-between-naval transfers/transit -home at Rail View, to this beautiful place, that she helpfully, came round as I raised my cup, to put 2 sugar cubes... (SUGAR CUBES?????. . . I had never seen them before), and then tinkled a silver spoon in my cup of hot chocolate with a swirl of cream.

From that moment onwards I decided, I would stop drinking ‘Ovaltine’ and insist on hot chocolate with cream, with 2 sugar cubes each time! Shamelessly, I drained the cup to the last delicious drop, forgetting how her good manners always reminded her to leave a little tea in her cup, every time she had tea at my house.

Miss Margaret, insisted that I have patties and ham sandwiches, along with pastries topped with chocolate icing, tiny silver balls and roses.

The first bite drove off all my shyness, and soon I was tucking in with the gusto, which only a 6 year old is capable of. Finally she offered me some home-made Marzipans. The taste was so divine, that all the way back home I repeated Marzipan, Marzipan, so I would not forget and tell my mother about its wonders.

Needless to say, on my return home, suddenly the trains which otherwise enchanted me, looked singularly dull in comparison to the elegant clink of cups, a house rich with warm oven smells, lace covered tables, and the gentle boom of ancient clocks.
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Radha Nair

THE DECCAN QUEEN

2011-03-29T00:39:00.000-07:00

ON SATURDAY, 2nd June,2007, I took the Deccan Queen to Bombay (it will be never be Mumbai for me as I was born and brought up in Bombay, and Bombay it shall remain). This was my first trip by DQ, proclaimed to be one of the best loved trains. I just had to relive some of its history, that I had read with deep fascination.

The standards of comfort it maintained “was distinctly colonial in keeping with the upmarket image of the train, and the commuting gentry”. So, a journey by the DQ, unquestionably would be remembered for its luxury, long after the journey was made. The DQ had made its maiden journey on June 1st, 1930. So I knew that the day I was going to travel by the DQ, she would be 77 years and a day old. She was 16 years older than me. Well! Well!

I had gone limp with excitement, having been lead up to believe of its exclusivity. This was a train I thought meant for those who chose style over expenses, who could experience the elation of traveling royally in compartments done up in silver oak with panels decorated in exotic wood.

Wood paneled interiors always carried an aura of class, warmth and elegance. So when I read that the DQ interiors had been done up exquisitely in maple, Brazilian zebra wood, silver wood and walnut, I was swept away. Brazilian zebra wood for instance, was something I had never heard of, much less seen. So my curiosity was raised to levels of delirious expectations.

Framed photographs of the DQ over the years had graced the interiors of this fabled train. It must have added the kind of romantic atmosphere associated with the saloon cars, that one glimpses only in Western movies! Unfortunately a tragic fire had taken away some priceless pieces. But the die-hard romantic that I am, I obstinately believed that some brilliant soul in the Indian railways had painstakingly carried out a great deal of aesthetic restoration on the DQ.

Years back, the DQ had a restaurant car attached to the second class. Inside it 16 diners could take in the birds- eye panels and walnut moldings. Just imagine the other details which spelt class. . . . It had tip up seats, and the seat ends were paneled walnut. I have no idea what quartered veneer is, but that was what the tables were made of, in addition to each table being glass topped. And for those who always chose style over expenses, there was the first class restaurant car for the 18 lucky ones, who could experience the elation of being pampered royally What more?

When the DQ arrived on platform No. 1, I wondered if it was “THE DQ” at all. Then before I knew what was happening, I found that there was no sedate boarding. If I did not want to miss the train, the only way in, I understood, was to be shoved roughly along (in the scuffling traditions of the Indian Railway passenger) with the pav bhaji, vada pav, aaaah! chai, garam doodh-wallahs, beggars, newspaper/ mobile phone cover/ plastic hairclips/ vendors, and of course the rear being brought up by the passengers, all being pushed around every which way.

In an uncoordinated way, I bumbled my way to my seat, and surveyed the DQ interior . . . . there was nothing of the glamorous Dakhkhini chi Rani, or ' the husband's special' as it was known, in the '30's No framed photographs , or walnut inlays, or Brazilian zebra trim. Of course I did not expect to step into the glamorous world of ‘The Orient Express’. Nor was I prepared for the insipid repetition of dull blue and white laminate from Coach 1 to the last one, that you can find in any local electric train.

I got a window side seat, but never got down to writing anything, because a plump woman seated beside me, found it tough to handle her pesky 3-year old and her fancy head scarf at the same time. So, she took out all her frustration on me, by digging her elbows into my ribs every 3 seconds.

There was the stale smell of the vendors, and of course the signature odour of the Indian Railways, drifting from the unclean toilets, without which Indian Railways would never claim to be Indian Railways. How could one eat food packed in tissue and stacked in greasy plastic trays, which had never been scrubbed for years? Of course a Pepsi is a Pepsi is a Pepsi. But when it happens to be dug out from under bottles of Bisleri, and assorted tetra pack juices, all carted around in a galvanized steel bucket, it heavily introduced the bathroom atmosphere, instead of adding to the drama of a great train journey.

The DQ catering staff, who edged around the vendors were a sorry looking lot. Uniformed as they were in dull grey, they reduced the DQ’s standing as a classy train by several notches. I must hand it to the railways for their imaginative choice of a safe grey. Dirt, grime, stains, and even the greasy palms wiped surreptitiously by the attendant, would comfortably disappear in its grey dullness.

There were any number of free loaders in the reserved compartment from the passengers squatting by the door side, and the brush wielding boot polishers, who were unmindful that the brushes they flourished over someone’s breakfast paper plate could well leave a generous dusting of shoe polish residue. It could mean business for them. But the poor diner would have second thoughts about finishing his/her breakfast. Ticket inspectors turned a blind eye on this procession of petty trades folk, droning on and on for a living! I lost all interest in chai and kaaafee, for the endless nuisance they caused. What a let down from the catering services it was so grandly famous for.

However my spirits lifted once we crossed Lonavala. We passed through 18 magnificent tunnels, emerging every now and then to see spectacular ravines covered with dense tropical forests. Khandala appeared lush after the pre monsoon rains. Monkeys from the bushes near the track bounded down, as the train slackened speed. They took their time over the bananas and slices of bread tossed to them by the passengers. Once we crossed Karjat we left behind all the open spaces and the lovely countryside, whose enduring appeal lay in its innocence, untouched by civilization.

Deccan Queen brought me on time to Dadar station. That was the only truth about all the stories linked with this once royal train. That was the only promise the Deccan Queen kept with its royal past. But that alone is to be appreciated, living as we are in lackadaisical days.

I do not blame the Railways entirely for the woeful conditions of travel one has to put up with. Fifty years down the line after Independence, the Indian culture as it exists today, shows a marked disrespect for the traditional values the previous generation nurtured, such as consideration, politeness, and the absolute need to observe hygienic conditions.

Disposable income we may have. But we don’t have the corresponding courtesies to match it. In the DQ, the raucous atmosphere in all the coaches underlined the fact that most passengers considered the DQ as an extension of their living rooms minus the drawing room manners. Part of this kind of uncouthness, has rubbed off at all levels of human interaction. So if the DQ is now a far cry of its former regal self, the 21st century passengers have to squarely take the blame for it, for the way they misuse public property.

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First published in Intelligent Pune / July 26 - August 1, 2007 issue.
Radha Nair

Freelance Writer

Pune

A LETTER FROM PETER WALLAGE

2011-03-14T23:22:00.000-07:00

PETER WALLAGE lives in Kent, England, and runs a definitive site on camera collecting called Welcome to Peter's Camera Pages you will find at http://www.peterwallage.com/index.htm . I had to write to Peter, and this, for two reasons : first, because I am a classic camera enthusiast myself, and secondly, Peter’s site has a fabulous

gallery of images where I found a picture of an exotic steam locomotive: a WG engine which Peter photographed in 1951 at the Festival of Britain exhibition in London. The picture you see to the right was taken with a 1930 model of a Ranca on 127 roll film.

So why did Peter have to photograph this huge loco manufactured for Indian Railways? I can’t be sure of the reason why, but part of it seems that he has a family connection with India. Here’s his letter to me dated March 14, 2011:

Dear Ravindra,

Thank you for your interesting email and the kind things you say about my website.

Thank you also for the link to your interesting website Railways of the Raj which I enjoyed reading.

I have a small family link with India. My Great Grandfather Thomas Wallage joined his father in the Royal Navy as a boy entrant at the age of 12 in the days of sailing ships and later joined the Honourable East India Company's navy, eventually becoming Commander of the Company's paddle wheel gunship Nemesis. His "home port" was Calcutta but most of the time the ship operated in the South China Sea and around Sarawak, often in company with ships of the Royal Navy. His wife often sailed with him (including sometimes into battle), My Grandfather was born in Bombay. Sadly, Thomas Wallage was a victim of one of the tropical illnesses which afflicted many Europeans serving in India in the early and mid 19th century. He died in his 30s and is buried in Calcutta. His widow returned to England with her children.

Yes, of course, you have my permission to use the picture of the railway locomotive taken at the 1951 Festival of Britain.

Kind regards,
Peter Wallage
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Picture Courtesy: Peter Wallage

A CLASSIC BOOK ON RAILWAY HISTORY

2011-02-05T22:41:00.000-08:00

The classic work The Railways of India with an Account of their Rise, Progress and Construction was written by Edward Davidson in 1868 with the aid of the records held in the India Office. This classic is now available online on the following page:
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http://books.google.co.in/books?id=zloOAAAAQAAJ&printsec=frontcover&dq=railways+of+india&source=bl&ots=RBNCxPL29W&sig=457f1MTXFm7clZD3dCyAIMmCcXo&hl=en#v=onepage&q&f=false

THE GIFT

2010-12-21T23:28:00.000-08:00

“Teddy, that’ll be enough for today!” cried Mrs Nethercott her voice rising in pitch as she watched with impatience her son spread out a map of the Midland Railway on his table as though he were preparing to make a survey of the area. The boy was devoted to trains with an intensity that came close to obsession, and it troubled Mrs Nethercott to see that the boy showed no regard for the clock beside him which said it was time for breakfast and then off to school.

Teddy rose reluctantly and followed his mother into the kitchen. Mrs Nethercott looked worried as she hurried her son through breakfast and then made him dress. Term examinations were drawing close but the boy had shown the least inclination towards his books and spent hours at Elmsworth station on his way back home from school each day.

Such a tremendous enthusiasm for trains would do her son no good, thought Mrs Nethercott. And so did the neighbours. But there was one person who seemed to understand, who spoke well of Teddy. Station Master Jenkins in charge of Elmsworth station was known to be a kind old soul, and often called on Mrs Nethercott to see how things were doing. Jenkins’ visits always brought cheer; they were accompanied by laughter and merriment, and would usually end with the man sharing a dinner of roast mutton, soup and apple pie.

“He is a fine lad, is Teddy Bear!” the burly man would say with gusto. “With a bit of application there’s no reason why he shouldn’t rise to the top one day. I’m proud of you, son!”

At these words, Mrs Nethercott’s heart would swell with pride, but inwardly she worried. Now over ten years of age, the boy attended St Vincent’s Grammar School in nearby Wiltshere. The path leading to school wound its way across the picturesque countryside till it came to Elmsworth station. Here the lad would spend hours on his way back home, waiting to catch a glimpse of the Express from Paddington as it steamed out of the station, the navy blue locomotive letting out angry puffs of smoke as it emerged victoriously carrying a line of six red carriages. At other times he strolled into the sidings where he could watch a tank engine shunt a goods train to the shed. Station Master Jenkins seemed greatly pleased when Teddy was around. The electric token instrument in his office held great fascination for the lad and Jenkins often sportingly allowed he boy to operate the device and extract a token.

Only a few days ago Mrs Nethercott had been to Elmsworth market for her weekly shopping. There were so many things to get: coloured embroidery thread, chicken feed for the poultry, groceries, and a new school bag for Teddy. The market place, gay as ever, was a pleasant change for the boy who bounced along holding his mother’s coat. They had emerged from the bakery when, as if on impulse, the boy halted suddenly catching sight of something in a shop window.

“Mamma, did you see that book in Ben’s Corner?”

Mrs Nethercott had seen what it was and did her best to ignore her son, but the boy kept tugging at his mother’s coat till in exasperation she agreed to inspect her son’s finding. Teddy ran up to the shop and pointed to a large picture-book displayed in a glass case amongst toys and fancy items.

“British Railways - An Illustrated History”, remarked Mrs Nethercott drily. “Well, if you must—run along and ask the man how much it is.”

“It’s only three pounds mom—see it’s printed on the side. But who’s written it? Ah—James Morgan. Mamma can’t we have it?” Teddy pleaded.

Mrs Nethercott shook her head. Three pounds were enough to buy a whole month’s groceries she thought. Besides a picture-book was the last thing she wanted to get for her son with the term exams round the corner.

Mrs Nethercott pursed her lips firmly. “We’ve had enough of trains, son!” she said in a curt voice. “It’s time you get back to your lessons!” And taking her son by the hand she made a dash for the red bus which was drawing to a halt at the street corner nearby.

Over the next few weeks Teddy felt deeply hurt. He had never seen a book as lovely as this before. It carried both pictures and history and went on to explain the working of a locomotive, how trains were signalled, coaling towers, weedkiller trains, and a lot more besides. Pictures he had seen in the book kept flashing across his mind as he lay awake at night. How mean elders could be! The dealer was even prepared to offer a discount, so why couldn’t mamma get the book for him?

The weeks rolled by and term examinations came round. To everyone’s surprise Teddy scored well in the test and even won a prize. Mrs Nethercott was pleased and made a roast turkey and strawberry cake for her son. Secretly the boy had hoped his mother would let him get Morgan’s British Railways, but he kept silent. When mother had refused a thing once he knew it was wise not to ask for it again.

Then one day something exciting happened. Teddy had been searching for a box of crayons when he came upon an old sheet of newspaper lying in a corner of his shelf. He was about to toss away the sheet when he spotted something that fixed his gaze on the paper. There was an illustration showing a train steaming out of a station. The boy smoothened out the sheet carefully and spread it out on his table. It was a piece of writing with the caption: ‘LNER Announces New Breakthrough in Railway Signalling’ by one James Morgan. Teddy was thoroughly excited. The date showed that the writing had appeared not long ago. Was it the same James Morgan whose book he had seen so often in Ben’s Corner? Who was James Morgan, and how did he happen to know such a great deal about trains?

The only way to find an answer, Teddy knew, was to ask station master Jenkins who always seemed to know everything. The boy finished his tea and put on his jacket and red cap. Then carefully tucking the sheet of paper in his pocket, he kissed mamma goodbye.

“Don’t be away too long, Teddy!” cried Mrs Nethercott as the boy hurried out.

“I won’t mamma!” yelled back Teddy, and away he sped, darting through the narrow village streets, right through Blueberry farm and onto the piece of land with a row of birch trees adjoining the tiny railway station of Elmsworth.

A dairy van had arrived at the goods shed and men were busy passing down cans of fresh butter and milk which would be packed into the lorry standing nearby. Teddy found the station master at the far end of the platform inspecting a signal being repaired.

“Mr Jenkins!” cried Teddy puffing and panting as he walked up to the man. “Mr Jenkins, you can’t guess what I’ve got to show you today!”

The station master who was attending to a workman at the top of a signal post looked a bit confused. The boy took out the sheet of paper he was carrying and opened it out.

“It’s about this bit of news that appeared in The Daily Mail,” Teddy explained eagerly. “It tells about a new system of signalling, and it’s written by James Morgan. Have you any idea who James Morgan is?”

Jenkins looked at the boy queerly. “Why, Sir James is the Chairman of the London & North Eastern Railway. But what brings you here today, Sunny?”

Teddy looked disappointed. “Is there anything wrong in being here today?” he asked crossly.

Jenkins held the boy’s gaze. “Well, you’re in luck today, son,” he said. “Sir James was on his way to Devon when his car broke down not far from here. He’s now seated in my office, waiting for the 3:20 from Paddington!”

“Oooh! How exciting!” Teddy exclaimed. “Please Mr Jenkins, won’t you take me along to meet Sir James?”

The station master gave a hearty laugh. “Very well, my boy,” he said. “Follow me. But see that you don’t play around with the token instrument while Sir James is around!”

Teddy followed the station master into his office where he found a middle-aged, bespectacled man seated on a chair. The gentleman wore a darkish brown suit; his moustache and balding head seemed to show that he was a man given to a great deal of study. By his side was seated a distinguished looking lady dressed in a flowing cream dress. She had a kind looking face, and she smiled at Teddy as he stood in the doorway.

“Sir James, if you’ll allow me the liberty,” began Jenkins hesitatingly, ‘there’s a lad here who says he would like to see you.”

“Why, yes, bring him in,” responded Sir James, putting down the paper he was reading. He held out his hand to the little boy who stood before him. “Hello young lad—it’s such a great pleasure meeting you! What’s your name?”

Teddy was dumbstruck as he shook hands with the man he had held in such great awe. “The boy is a great railway enthusiast,” Jenkins went on to explain. “He’s even read your recent article on signalling that appeared in The Daily Mail!”

“Ah, now that’s interesting,” remarked Sir James with a tone of satisfaction. “Now what did you say your name is? Ah yes, Teddy. Now Teddy, can you tell me what this writing is all about – what do you learn from it?”

Teddy was not in the least perturbed with the question. “Well – I mean – you have stressed how vitally important it is to have a reliable system of signalling, one that admits of no human errors…” he answered boldly. “… And you’ve spoken about the new invention called track circuiting that you’ve introduced on the stretch from London to Norwich. It’s a revolutionary concept, making it quite impossible for a signalman to accept a train unless the last one has fully cleared his section…”

Sir James looked impressed. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “That’s the kind of spirit I would expect in a railwayman. The boy shows great promise, Jenkins. There’s a good deal you could learn from him!”

Sir James briefly studied the sheet of paper Teddy held out. Then he leaned back in his chair and lit a cigar. “As time goes on we shall come to rely more and more on devices like the one you find here,” he said blowing puffs of smoke and pointing to the electric token instrument in the office. “It all began with the invention of the electric telegraph, you see. Were it not for this remarkable device, we would still be working trains on the time-interval system. But I don’t expect you’ll be knowing anything on this subject. Have you read the history of British Railways?”

“Oh well, yes—I mean, no sir...” Teddy stuttered. “I’d seen a book by you called British Railways – An Illustrated History in Ben’s Corner, but mamma wouldn’t let me buy it!”

The little tank engine at the shed gave a shrill hoot and had begun to move out towards the sidings with a row of wagons. The gentleman with the spectacles looked taken aback. “Oh dear, this something really unfortunate,” he said shaking his head. “Now what are we to do about this? It’s a great shame, isn’t it?”

Mrs Morgan who was seated next leaned over and whispered to her husband. Sir James considered for a moment and then acquiesced. “Jenkins,” he said, turning to the station master, “have you got a copy of my illustrated guide on British Railways?”

“Yes sir. It’s there on that shelf above.”

“Good! Give the book to the boy. On my return to London I shall see to it that you get a replacement.”

"Very well, sir."

As Teddy held the book in his hand he felt as if he were in a dream. It was too good to be true, and he was at a loss for words.

“That’s for you, Teddy! You may keep it!” said the lady seated beside, her eyes round with pleasure.

The boy moved his fingers on the cover with glee. It was the same book he had seen in Ben’s Corner. Even in his wildest dreams he had never imagined that some day he would have a copy all to himself. How good these people were, he thought, to give away a book so cheerfully without asking him a lot of awkward questions.

Teddy never felt so grateful before. “I very much appreciate this…” he began in a faltering voice, but Mrs Morgan would let him go no further. She rose from her seat and held the boy close, kissing him warmly. “Here’s my card, son,” she said, drawing a visiting card from her purse. “You will come over to see me when you happen to be in London, won’t you Teddy?”

The bell on the key-token instrument sounded a sonorous beat and station master Jenkins hurriedly rose to attend to the call. The Express from Paddington was on its way and would pull into Elmsworth station any moment now.

Teddy’s face glowed with pleasure. “Yes, I shall,” he replied holding Mrs Morgan’s hand. “And thank you very much!”
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Ravindra Bhalerao
(First published in Indian Railways magazine, December 2010)

BOMBAY'S HARBOUR LINE

2010-12-12T05:48:00.000-08:00

The Harbour Line of Bombay is over a hundred years old now; readers of this website will recall that this was the first line in India where electrification was introduced. Here's an informative report on the line from the desk of veteran journalist Shri Rajendra Aklekar. Keep up the good work Raj, you have reached the stage where you deserve a prize !!

ODD BITS AND ENDS

2010-11-19T21:36:00.000-08:00

Today we have a bonanza for our readers. Read on to find out little known facts and figures, secrets and trivia telling what the great system of railways in India was like in the past.
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1) A journey up the hills by the Darjeeling Hill Railway took only about 5 hours 15 minutes in the 1930s.
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2) A total of 42 railway companies were in operation before independence.
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3) Rail links over the Bhor and Thull ghats were opened for traffic in 1864.
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4) The Chief Mechanical Engineer was in earlier days known as Chief Locomotive Superintendent.
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5) The first electric train ran on 3 February 1925 from Bombay VT to Kurla.
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6) There were three kinds of goods trains in operation earlier, namely, Shunting, Van, and Through trains.
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7) Electric lights in railway carriages were first introduced in 1902 on the Jodhpur Railway.
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8) Line clear was obtained earlier using the electric telegraph. Following this, the ASM of a wayside station would lower the signals for the departure of a train by operating the levers of a ground-frame next to his office.
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9) Toilets on trains were introduced in 1891 in Ist class, and in 1907 in lower classes.
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10) Trains in earlier days (except Mails) “stopped at every station a quarter of an hour for purposes of gossip, and at all large stations half an hour or an hour” an early traveller in India once complained.
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11) The Commissioner of Railway Safety was earlier known as Government Inspector of Railways.
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12) Locomotives shipped to India from Great Britain were accompanied by the manufacturer's printed set of instructions for the workshop to assemble the machine correctly.
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13) Bogie carriages were introduced in 1903 with both 4- and 6-wheeled bogies. Carriages with inward opening doors first appeared in 1909.
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14) At many small stations a safety system known as Annets Lock and Key system was in use to prevent conflicting signals and points, later superseded by an invention known as Hepper’s Key Transmitter.
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15) On 9 August 1925 armed revolutionaries stopped No. 8 Down train near Kakori station and looted the British government treasury. Four of them were hanged but the incident fired up the nation’s patriotic spirit.
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16) At small and unimportant junctions a track formation known as a ‘triangle’ was often used in place of a turntable to reverse steam locomotives.
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17) The key elements of a steam loco shed were a store, office, repair shop, examination pits, well, overhead water tank, ash-pits, turntable, fuel platform, sick sidings and water column. An inseparable part of a locoshed would be a travelling steam crane often found busy chugging away, shovelling coal into the tenders of waiting locomotives.
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18) In 1923 there were over 500 different classes of steam locomotives in use. By 1952 the number of classes was brought down to 377.
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19) In the year 1900 the railways of India had a route kilometreage of 39,834 kms, there were a total of 3627 stations, 4629 steam locomotives, 17,272 carriages, and 88,612 goods wagons. By 1940 the railways had spread to 66,067 kilometres of track, with 7286 stations, 8414 steam locos, 72 electric locomotives, 23,450 carriages and 2,15,253 goods wagons.
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20) The G.I.P. Railway in 1856 charged 2 annas per mile to send a horse by train, and 3 annas per mile if two horses were sent together by the same owner. One groom in charge of each horse was allowed to travel free in the same vehicle as the animal. The lowest charge for sending a horse was Rs 2 annas 8. Carriages and palanquins could also be booked by train and if the owner chose to travel seated in his own carriage he was charged Ist class fare.
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21) In his book “Permanent Way Material, Plate-Laying, and Points and Crossings” (E. & F. N. Spon Limited, London, 1928), W.H. Cole, M.Inst.C.E., of the Indian State Railways recommended that in hot and dry weather, the gateman of a road crossing “ought also to water the crossing before a train is expected, to prevent dust from getting into the working parts of the engine.”
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22) A fine 19th century old 6-inch gauge display model of the East Indian Railway 2-2-2 well-tank locomotive 'Express' commissioned for the East India Railway boardroom in London was recently auctioned by Bonhams for 17,250 pounds. A similar 6-inch gauge display model of the EIR Class L1 4-6-0 locomotive of 1900 was sold for 9,200 pounds.

DORABJI'S STORY

2010-11-10T21:32:00.000-08:00

Boys, we haven’t finished yet with Dr Damania : he is here to stay, and is as much an important part of this site as Karl Lobo, Terry Fletcher, Margaret Deefholts (who hates being called Maggie), Rajendra and others. Here’s an interesting tale he has compiled for us telling about his paternal uncle Shri Dorabji Damania who served on the railways long ago . . . many thanks, doctor, for an outstanding post, you sure have an eye for history and heritage :
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MY FATHER’S OLDER BROTHER, Dorabji M. Damania, after having passed his Matriculation from the Parsi Orphanage at Lalbaug, Mumbai, found work as a clerk for a Parsi businessman who had a general store (hardware & provisions) in Lahore (now in Pakistan) around 1910s. He must be in his mid-20s. He was not happy with his salary and the treatment from the store-owner with whom he had many quarrels. One day a British gentleman walked in to the store to buy something and Dorabji made friends with him. During conversation the British man let out that he was actually a superintendent in the Northern Railway based at Delhi and gave Dorabji his official calling card. He was so impressed with Dorabji that he said that "If ever you are in need of help contact me." A few months later Dorabji had another quarrel with his boss the store-owner and left the job in a huff carrying only a single small suitcase in his hand and a few rupees in this pocket. He arrived at Delhi and sought out the British gentleman, presented himself at his office and said "Sir, you told me that if ever I needed help I should contact you. Here I am." The British gentleman, whose name I do not recollect, said "Very well, Dorabji. Report tomorrow to the station-master at the Delhi railway station with this note I am giving you". Dorabji was employed in the railways the very next day as "Ticket Collector" even before a railway uniform could be stitched for him. After a few years as ticket collector at Delhi he took some training and was promoted to a Guard on the goods trains of the Northern Railways (steam traction at that time).

He used to speak to me of the very many lonely hours he would have to spend as a guard of a goods train at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes the goods train would lie in the siding of some obscure station for many hours. Being the last bogey at the end of 50-60 goods wagons inside the guard's wagon was a rough ride with lots of shaking, swaying, rattling, and noise (only those who have ridden inside the last bogey of a goods train can appreciate the hardship). There was no electricity in the guard's wagon only a kerosene hurricane lamp, a writing desk, red/green flags and the wheel with a mechanical emergency brake. After a few years, he was promoted to Guard of passengers trains and was posted to Saharanpur, Uttar Pradesh (see 1907 photo of Saharanpur Railway Station), then on the North Western Railway (NWR). He was also provided with accommodation at the railway quarters. With a raise in salary and his own accommodation he thought it was time to find a life partner. He, therefore, took leave and came to Bombay in 1920 (see photo above). He soon married a very beautiful Parsi lady (Miss Dhun Fitter) and took her to Saharanpur with him. She was soon with child and Dorabji was extremely excited about becoming a father. Unfortunately, his wife died of postpartum sepsis only days after giving birth, leaving him with a female child whom he named Freny. Dorabji was grief stricken. Alone and far from relatives, and unable to care for a small baby all by himself and distraught at having lost his wife so soon after marriage, he took early retirement from the railways and returned to Bombay around 1935. He found a job with Tata Chemicals as a clerk till his retirement in the mid 1950s.

I still have his Guard's Whistle (Made in England) at the end of a silver chain with a pocket clasp at the other end. Even today, after almost 100 years, when I blow it with full breath in my lungs, it is loud enough to be heard for at least half a km. It was supposed to be audible from the Guard's compartment at the end of the train right up to the engine driver who was 12-13 compartments in the front. The whistle was also for the passengers who had not boarded the train as well as for those who had come to bid farewell to their kith and kin. The whistle would be heard throughout the length of the platform from one end to the other. Dorabji would then wave the green flag or if it was night the green kerosene lamp. And the train would slowly start to move. He would only take his seat after his own guard's compartment at the back of the train had passed the outer signal cabin and the train picked up speed. He died in 1963.

Dr. Ardeshir B. Damania

THE TRAVELLING TICKET INSPECTOR

2010-11-09T20:36:00.000-08:00

Here is a charming little poem which appeared in the G.I.P. Railway Magazine in May 1915:
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THE FLYING SCUD
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We’ve heard of the driver, we’ve heard of the guard
Of the engine from cab to injector,
But a subject which hasn’t occurred to our bard,
Is the travelling inspector.
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When you rush for your train in the morning—perhaps
You’ve been out in the evening preceding
It’s most likely to happen that one of these chaps
A sight of your ‘season’ is needing.
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Then you feel in your pockets, you look in your hat,
Your co-passengers think it is quite funny
And it dawns on your wandering intellect that
It’s at home—with your keys, your money.
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But it isn’t a rule for the gay flying scud
To drop on the man who’s forgotten
His ticket. He really is after the ‘dud’
And the man whose excuses are rotten.
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He will smile as he says “Show your tickets, I pray”
For his manner is gentle and courtly,
But the ‘twister’ who never intended to pay
He will lay by the heels very shortly.
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The enemy sworn of the traveller by stealth
Of ‘bilking’ and fraud the detector
Let’s empty a glass to the jolly good health
Of the travelling ticket inspector!

MASJID BUNDER STATION SUCCESS

2010-10-31T23:37:00.000-07:00

Again this post is due to Rajendra Aklekar, who is always ready to swoop down and report on any heritage and preservation activities going on around town. Many thanks Raj, for a top quality report !!
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The gas lamp you see in the previous post is not the only thing preserved after Masjid Bunder bridge was demolished. By the way, Masjid Bunder is a small suburban station a few kilometers away from Bombay VT on the ex-GIP line. Says Rajendra: "The final demolition of the Masjid road over-bridge took place in 2009. But the plaques that you see in the pic and an old cast iron gas lamp (see post below) with vivid carvings has been saved from the hammer and may be seen in the museum at Mumbai CST. The Central Railway has been considerate to take efforts of not touching these precious things. Thanks to the chief public relations officer Shriniwas Mudgerikar, who got it done. The road over-bridge at Masjid was built in 1857, when the Indian Mutiny was on, and completed in 1867, ten years later. The booking office had come up later in 1924."
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Picture and report courtesy of Rajendra Aklekar

ALADDIN AND THE LAMP

2010-10-30T03:17:00.000-07:00

What is common between Aladdin and an archaeologist? Nothing much except that if you are a railway archaeologist, as Raj is, you are going to come up with an interesting assortment of mechanical gadgets dug up during the course of research, maybe even an antique brass lamp that cast its orange warmth on a station master’s desk a century ago.

It would be superfluous to introduce Shri Rajendra Aklekar here. He is already known to readers of this website. Besides being a Special Correspondent with the Hindustan Times, he is a steam train enthusiast, a DHR fan, and a railway archaeologist who has done the impossible task of trudging all the way along Bombay’s rail tracks researching station buildings and trackside looking for artefacts of a bygone age left behind by those two giants of old—the GIP and the BBCI Railways.

If there is anyone here who secretly feels this is a silly preoccupation, he needs to think again before forming an opinion. Rajendra has come up with some extraordinary discoveries; his findings along the BBCI route have been published in a supplement of Shri Anoop Jhingron’s Western Railway: Heritage, Traditions and Legend. And that’s no mean feat.

The pictures you see here show an antique lamp discovered by Raj at Masjid Bunder station, which now is now on display in the musuem at Bombay VT station. See the close-up below : this lamp was manufactured as far back as in 1857 by Turner & Allen of London.
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Pictures courtesy of Rajendra Aklekar

A TETE-A-TETE (Contd)

2010-10-30T01:08:00.000-07:00

IT APPEARS DR DAMANIA LOVES TRAINS as much as any rail enthusiast in India, and in Rajendra Aklekar he has found a friend with whom he can share his views, and receive good-natured feedback, comments, hints and tips. Some days back Raj sent him a picture of the Bhor Ghat Reversing Station hoping to receive a comment, and here is what the doctor said in his reply dated 25 October 2010:
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Hello Rajendra,
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The reversing photo is great. Thanks.
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Here is what I know from my dad who had actually seen the "reversing" being operated during the days of steam traction from 1860s up to 1928. I have myself never seen it being operated as it was discontinued around 1928-29 when electric traction was introduced and a new tunnel (the last one in the ghats before Khandala Station) was constructed by the Tatas.
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When the construction of the Bhor Ghat was undertaken under the supervision of James Berkley with over 40,000 labourers all went well until they came to the last section where they encountered a sheer block of granite mountain just under Khandala west of the Duke's Nose. The normal practice, as was the case with the Matheran narrow gauge railway, was to go around the mountain in increasing gradient in circles till the height is reached. But in this case the GIP engineers discovered that there was no place to lay the tracks in circles around the mountain (there was a sheer drop below the Duke's Nose). Since they did not have the equipment or the time to blast a long tunnel through solid granite rock, they came up with a ingenious "reversing" method that would enable a train to ascend the gradient to reach Khandala.
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The trick was, that instead of going around the mountain, the reversing tracks were laid out in a Z-manner so that the train gained height by going to and fro in a Z-pattern gaining height with each arm of the Z. That is what you see in the photograph that you sent me.
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The train would be pulled by two steam engines in the front and a bunker at the rear. Then the train would be pushed up in the "reverse" direction until the tracks ran out, and then finally once again in the forward mode till they had reached the height just below Khandala. There two short tunnels were con

A goods train negotiating the Bhore Ghat at Khandala.
Picture Courtesy of Mr Behramji M Damania,
(1893-1982).

structed and the train arrived at Khandala at the point where was the main bazaar. All that changed when the Tata Construction Co. (a plaque is embedded in the rock at the start of the tunnel No. 25/ 26) managed to bore a tunnel with gradual gradient that resulted in bringing the tracks just outside the Khandala station. The two short tunnels that had been used with the "reversing" procedure were abandoned and the last time I went down (around late 50s) from Khandala bazaar and walked on what were the previous rail tracks (there were no tracks only flat piece of 'road') towards the two tunnels there were trees and bushed growing all around but the two tunnels were still very much there and it was rather eerie walking through them. Later, when the traffic increased, the Bombay-Pune highway passed through the same tunnels in the upwards direction (one way) and the old Bombay-Pune road up to the reversing was used for the descend only (one way). Recently with the completion of the Bombay-Pune highway the old Bombay-Pune road from the reversing up to Khandala may have fallen in to disuse. May be the two short tunnels below Khandala are still there?
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The photograph above shows a steam engine pulling a goods train up the ghats at Khandala Station of the GIP Railway. The photo was taken by my father Mr B. M. Damania in 1915
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ARDESHIR DAMANIA
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And here is Shri Aklekar's reply to the doctor’s question:.
Sir,
Yes. the tunnels are still there. The reversing station was pulled down to build the Mumbai-Pune Expressway. I had complained and expressed anguish with the railway ministry, but nothing came out of it and the reversing station was demolished.
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I may have some pics of the place taken by my friends. Shall try and find them for you.
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regards
Raj
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For rail heritage enthusiasts, here is yet another surprise from the collection of Dr. Damania , a grand sweeping view of the Bombay Poona Bhore Ghat under construction during 1863-64. This picture is like a window to the past ; I can almost imagine myself standing on the nearby hillock watching the workmen busy all through the day digging and shifting loads of earth from one place to the other, and engineers busy supervising the work with their theodolites and other instruments. When you pass this way again by train, it is good to have this picture in mind... just imagine the sheer manpower needed and the time spent in building a rail link over the Bhore Ghat ... all thanks to the good doctor for sending along this priceless jewel !!

A TETE-A-TETE BETWEEN TWO HERITAGE ENTHUSIASTS

2010-10-23T23:01:00.000-07:00

Hi folks, you may not know it but Shri Rajendra Aklekar has been in correspondence with Dr Ardeshir Damania over the past one week over the subject of Bombay Railway history, providing pictures, notes, and useful bits of information. Raj is a tough guy to crack when it comes to railway matters, and runs an amazing site on Bombay’s Rail History. Railway heritage, like me, is his life. Once I said to him: “Raj, all this correspondence between you and Dr. Damania is getting so very interesting—keep it up, and do send me copies”.
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Just scroll down to the post below. Here at the bottom you will find a picture sent in by Dr. Damania showing a 1930 shot of the Dharavi Receiving Station of the Tata Power Company Limited.
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Raj was as excited over this picture as I was. On 23 October he wrote to me with a copy to Dr. Damania: “The siding between Sion and Matunga still exists. Will go there today and take a pic and mail it to you. There's a small substation just below the point where the harbour line crosses the main line on CR. And there is a BG line going in there. The crossovers have now been removed, but the tracks exists, all covered with bushes. The loco used to enter this small garage like substation. Shall get pics. –Rajendra.”
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Raj is a perfect gentleman and when he promises you a thing, he keeps his word. I am reproducing two of the pictures he’s sent us. The first picture on the left shows the exact gate/iron fence where the siding used to enter the garage-like substation. All these pics were taken from a fast train moving towards Matunga station. The picture below shows the old sidings as they continue towards Matunga station. The small patch of white painted wall seen behind the middle OHE mast stands at the site where the rail link used to enter the Matunga workshop. Many thanks Raj for this bit of quick research.
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Copies of these pictures were also sent to Dr. Damania and this is what the good doctor said in reply:
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YES RAJENDRA, THE TATA POWER siding started just after the point where the Harbor line crosses over the GIP (CR) main line. The siding tracks entered the Tata Power Company Receiving station through a metal gate. The gate may not exist today but there may be a wall. The tracks if any would be rusted and covered with bushes. The level crossing on the Matunga side of the GIP/Harbour crossover point does not exist now and has been walled over. My father and I would wait for the level crossing to open for sometimes half an hour if it was a busy time. The level crossing used to be operated manually through a key system. There were two large "keys" as big as the palm of a hand. There was a very small "kholi" or cabin where both keys (one of each level crossing gate) had to be inserted for the signal to change to green on eitheir side of the level crossing. Similarly, the keys would only be released from the "lock" AFTER the signal had changed to red on both sides (up and down lines) for the gateman to pull them out of the lock and with each key in hand run to open the level crossing gates on either sides.
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For many many years the man who operated the gates had only one leg, having lost the other leg during a shunting accident. Any railway yard employee who would lose a leg was given a level-crossing keeping job. There were many accidents during shunting of goods wagon at the railway yards like Wadala, Kurla, etc. as the shunting engine would push/pull before the man who was detaching or attaching a wagon had time to move out from between the wagons. Victims of such accidents were kept employed by the railways. The man at this Dharavi level crossing ran with one wooden leg from one gate to another across 4 track lines to open the gate, giving a stiff salute to my father as we drove across in our big black car (1930s to 1959). Then a bell would start ringing and the gateman would start to close one gate at a time and lock them. Only AFTER he had removed the keys from the gates and re-inserted them in to the lock in the cabin would signals on both sides turn to green/yellow. This fail safe system designed by the British prevented from any accident happening on the level crossing. Most of the leveling crossings with gates were manned by gatemen with only one good leg, the other would be a wooden one!
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A. B. Damania

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Pictures Courtesy of Rajendra Aklekar

Dr DAMANIA ON BOMBAY'S RAIL HISTORY

2010-10-19T04:53:00.000-07:00

Dr Damania, a research scientist who was earlier with the UN, has an abiding interest in history which is evident from his posts here on this site (scroll down below to read his writings). Here are a few more nuggets on Bombay’s railway history from the boffin's prized collection. Many many thanks Doctor, and we look forward to having more such exciting pictures and material on the railways from you. Cheers!!
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SOME OF MY FATHER’S RELATIVES and my uncle worked for the railways in the 1930s and 40s. In the 1830s and 40s the railways were well established in England and they tried to do the same for Bombay. Poona being the cultural capital even at that time and a good hill station with a nice climate for the gora sahibs attempts were made to build a railway Bombay-Poona first. But the sheer wall of the western ghats made it a daunting task which the equipment available then could not surmount in the beginning. Steam power (even with 3 engines) was barely able to pull a train in the early days and instances of the train rolling backwards were common. My father (1893-1982) who had actually seen steam engines pulling the train up the ghats told me that the locomotives strained very hard (with very thick black smoke) and their heavy puffing made a sound which he narrated to me in Marathi "Ghata saathi, pota saathi, Khandala cha ghata saathi". He would repeat this 3-5 times in quick succession to make me understand how difficult it was for the steam engines to pull the train up the ghats even though there was reversing which he had also seen being used and would tell me how it all worked when we went each time by car below the viaduct before the last climb to Khandala on the old Bombay-Poona road.
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The Punjab Mail in 1930
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This is a picture of the Punjab Mail (1930) at halt due to some reason at a small station with platform only for stopping at all stations trains. The Punjab Mail is on the fast track going out of Bombay I think. This is definitely GIP railway and the electric masts are of the same type as the railway inspection photo below.
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Dadar Station with Steam Local Trains, 1923
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This is a 1923 photo of the BB&CI railway Dadar Station (the area on the west side of the station is still called "BB Dadar"). Notice that the local trains are being pulled by steam engines. There are no electric traction masts. This was at a time when there were no houses north of Dadar. It was all vacant land with targola and mango trees and infested with monkeys!
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The photo is taken from the South side of the station. The newly constructed "Tilak Bridge" can be seen faintly in the background. Lokmanya Gangadhar Tilak Bridge is the oldest railway bridge in Mumbai. The amazing thing about this bridge is that it is made of only hard granite rock and hard English steel. The bridge is very important as it connects the east side to the west side of the city at a critical junction.
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Rail Inspection Pictures
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To the right are a couple of old photos of rail inspection, (1) during 1895, the earliest days, and (2) during the 1930s, between Matunga and Sion stations on GIP railway. About the second picture, we can’t be sure, it could have been taken beyond Bandra on the BB&CI railway, and not on the GIP. The targola trees always grow in the interior and not close to the sea, so I am thinking that the photo is beyond Bandra, perhaps somewhere around Goregaon.
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Arial Picture of the 1930s
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I have a picture of the Receiving Station of the Tata Power Company Ltd, Dharavi, of which my father was the Superintendent (he also held a pilot's license and was simultaneously also the Secretary of the Bombay Flying Club and hence his access to aircrafts). The rail lines just happened to be in the picture because they run very close to the Power Station (there were no slums at that time and Dharavi was just an extension of Matunga). The Power Station had a railway siding too. Whenever a wagon containing machinery or cables for the Power Station was to be delivered, a small shunting engine would bring the wagon and place it on the siding outside the gates. The engine would depart quickly because it would be holding up the up and down lines between Matunga and Sion stations. After that my father would order that the wagon be hand-pushed in to the Power Station. For this about 30-40 labourers would be hired. They would sing in unison so that all of them push the heavy 22 tons railway wagon in to the Power Station. I can still remember their cries and the strain their poor thin bodies had to be put to move the wagon inch by inch. As a young boy I felt very sorry for them as they sweated in the hot sun their bodies glistening. After the wagon was unloaded inside the Power Station, they would have to push it back outside the gates the same or next day (to avoid paying penalties to the railway) and wait for an engine to come and take it away. Sometimes the empty wagon would lie there for days, but outside the gate. The GIP or CR workshop was just next door and so finding an engine was never a problem, but once the wagon had left the Power Station's premises and the gates were shut it was the railways responsibility to take away the wagon. I wonder if the siding still exists? It was just after the level-crossing (which has now been canceled) on Bhaudaji Road. The Harbor line passes across on the top.
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Notice there are no slums on the left or the right except some government barracks. Also note that the GIP railway line had just been electrified. Also notice on the right a railway siding, between the targola trees, where a railway goods wagon would be hand pushed right up to the workshop on the extreme left by 30-40 labourers.
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Dr Ardeshir B Damania
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Photo credits : Mr B M Damania, L.E.E. (engineer, aviator, entrepreneur, adventurer, and businessman - born 1893, died 1982).

GEMS FROM JAMALPUR

2010-10-18T23:05:00.000-07:00

Jamalpur has a fascinating railway history. It is the place where Special Class Railway Apprentices are trained, it has a large historic workshop, and many more things besides. Read about Jamalpur's railway past here:
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1) Special Class Railway Apprentices:
http://thejamalpur.wordpress.com/2008/12/21/special-class-railway-apprentices-scra/
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2) Anglo Indian Railway Officers:
http://thejamalpur.wordpress.com/2009/01/01/on-jamalpur-anglo-indian-railway-officers/
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3) IRIMEE, Jamalpur:
http://thejamalpur.wordpress.com/2008/12/21/indian-railways-institute-of-mechanical-electrical-engineering-irimee/
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4) Jamalpur Railway Workshop:
http://thejamalpur.wordpress.com/category/jamalpur-railway-workshop/

AN ONLINE VINTAGE BOOK

2010-10-14T05:27:00.000-07:00

"Railways in India" by An Engineer, John Williams & Co., Strand, 1847, is now available online. Click on the following link:
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http://books.google.com/books?id=StwDAAAAQAAJ&pg=PR1#v=onepage&q&f=false

VICTORIA TERMINUS IN 3 DIMENSIONS

2010-10-12T21:38:00.000-07:00

Here is a stereoscopic picture of Bombay Victoria Terminus, taken in around 1903 by James Ricalton. Stereoscopic pictures are taken with a special camera which makes two exposures of a scene simultaneously with lenses separated by a distance equal to the average inter-ocular distance of the human eye, and a special type of viewer incorporating lenses or mirrors is required to fuse these images into a 3-D representation.

By the way, have you read the Noticeboard on the sidebar of this website? This is a new feature we are incorporating, and will feature news announcements, information about forthcoming posts and other notifications.

Picture courtesy: http://oldphotosbombay.blogspot.com/

RAILWAY CUISINE

2010-10-01T23:07:00.000-07:00

“RAILWAY LAMB / MUTTON CURRY is a direct throw back to the days of the British Raj, when traveling by train was considered aristocratic,” says Bridget Kumar who runs ANGLO INDIAN RECIPES, the definitive source on Anglo-Indian snacks and cuisine. “This very popular and slightly spicy dish was served in Railway Refreshment Rooms and on long distance trains, with Bread or Dinner Rolls. The curry was not too spicy keeping in mind the delicate palates of the British. It was also popular with the Railway staff who had to be on duty for long periods at a stretch.”
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For more details on this spicy railway dish, turn to Bridget’s site at the following URL :
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http://anglo-indianrecipes.blogspot.com/2010/07/railway-lamb-mutton-curry.html

FROM BORI BUNDER TO RAJDHANI

2010-09-30T22:22:00.000-07:00

150 Glorious Years of Indian Railways by K R Vaidyanathan; English Edition Publishers & Distributors (India) Pvt Ltd, Mumbai; 152 pages, Rs 250.
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Since the publication of J. N. Sahni’s classic “Indian Railways: One Hundred Years” which appeared in 1953 a hundred years after the Bombay Thana railway was inaugurated, there have appeared no less than a dozen works telling the story of the railways in India, and varying as much in depth as in content and subject matter covered. In many cases the thrust has been mainly on creating a record of growth and technical progress although a few texts have appeared which have sought to explore the impact of the railways in social spheres and other related matters of human interest.
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Shri Vaidyanathan’s work is a refreshing blend of these two approaches. It combines a history of technical progress and achievement with informative and often amusing personal accounts gathered from innumerable sources giving the book the feel of a first hand account penned by one who was actually on the spot jotting down events and happenings as he went along.
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As early as in 1843 Lord Dalhousie, in a visionary idea, had proposed the construction of a rail network in India that would bridge the enormous distances, uniting the Indian subcontinent into a whole. It was left to the ingenuity and skill of such men as George T. Clarke, Robert Stephenson and James J. Berkley to transform these ideas into reality. The railway age was ushered in when the first train ran from Bombay to Thana on 16 April 1853 to the accompaniment of a royal salute and the Governor’s band occupying a place in one of the carriages. Within a few years of the first opening hundreds of miles of track were under construction. The railways had arrived, and “before the Indian train journey,” as Charles Allen would recall, “all other forms of travel paled into insignificance.”
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Since earliest times railway carriages were categorized into classes each offering a different level of comfort. The difference was as great as that between heaven and hell. It was easy for Louis Rousselet to write: “Thanks to the sleeping carriage, I have been able to travel over the immense distance with comparatively little fatigue—sleeping at night on a comfortable little bed, and walking up and down in my carriage during the day ; and at stations provided with buffets I found a servant who, when he had taken the orders for my meal, telegraphed it to the next station, where my breakfast or dinner awaited my arrival,” while being unaware, perhaps, that somewhere down the train a few carriages away natives travelling in third class were “huddled and crowded like cattle into carriages often unprovided with seats …” In later days Mahatma Gandhi would himself lead a lone crusade drawing the attention of the Railway Board to the grisly conditions of third class travel but sadly with little immediate success.
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Despite the ever present chasm between first and third class travel, the railways were the most popular form of transport for Indians as much as for the Sahibs.
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For over a hundred years steam provided motive power for the railways of India. The first locomotive to arrive in the country was named Lord Falkland, built by Vulcan Foundry in England. Over the next hundred years Vulcan would supply locomotives to India at a rate averaging more than two engines a month. Although making no attempt to describe the various classes in use, Vaidyanathan provides an interesting account of the development of the steam locomotive. Likewise, the section on Signalling has much engaging detail on the growth of the electric telegraph and its application to railway signalling. He demystifies the working of the block system and goes on to describe such useful developments as cabin interlocking, automatic signalling and Centralised Traffic Control.
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Vaidyanathan plods through a wide swathe of subject matter covering every possible area ranging from early railway carriages and luxury trains to famous stations, bridges and the hill railways of India. He dwells at length on the issue of freight transportation, deconstructing the myth, so common among laymen, that the railways have, as their prime concern, the operation of passenger trains.
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As early as in 1925 the Harbour Branch Line in Bombay, laid on a severe grade of 1 in 34 where it crossed the Wadi Bunder yard, had been electrified so that suburban services could be run unhindered. It took about 5 years more before the main line running from Bombay VT to Kalyan and from thence passing over the Bhor (and Thull) Ghat was electrified. In a welcome departure, the author has included amongst the several archival pictures in the book, portraits of the Acting Agent, Mr M W Brayshay, and the Chief Electrical Engineer, F T Wright, who were among those connected with the first railway electrification, besides a plate showing James Berkley, the first Chief Resident Engineer of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway. At the end of the book one is left wondering how he has succeeded so well in conjuring up the ‘railway atmosphere’ of the time. His fine selection of photographs is perhaps one reason.
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Shri Vaidyanathan who served as a Senior Commercial Officer of the Indian Railway Traffic Service is no armchair rail specialist. His knowledge has been gained through years of work done in the field, first as a station master, then as a traffic instructor, even manning the post of Chief Controller. This book makes delightful reading and will make an ideal Christmas present for anyone who loves the railways of India.
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Ravindra Bhalerao

HISTORY OF RAILWAYS FROM BOMBAY TO REST OF INDIA

2010-09-20T22:11:00.000-07:00

By Dr Ardeshir B. Damania
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FRAMJI CAWASJI BANAJI, a Parsi sethia, was a great adventurer. Among his several enterprises he put up capital, with a few Europeans, in the establishment of the “Great Eastern Peninsula Railway”, which was the first enterprise of its kind in Bombay. However, when the track-laying ran in to trouble in 1844 because of the steep western ghats, many of the financial backers abandoned Seth Framji. Nevertheless, he with the English engineer Mr. Clarke continue to run the company till it went bankrupt and had to be dissolved. The scheme was later taken up in England and the “Great Indian Peninsula (GIP) Railway” company was formed on paper at least in 1845.
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To the accompaniment of a 21-gun salute from the guns at nearby Fort George, “God Save The King” played by the Governor’s Band, and a loud applause from the crowd, the first train in India (and entire Asia for that matter) left Bombay's Victoria Terminus at Bori Bunder on April 16, 1853 at 15.30 hrs for Thana (a distance of 21 miles or 33.81 Km). This train was not open to the public. The passengers were 400 invited VIP guests. The guests included the wife of the Governor of Bombay, Lady Falkland, Jagannath Shankar Shett, Sir Jamshedji Jeejeebhoy, and other dignitaries. The train, consisting of 14 carriages, was drawn by three steam locomotives: ‘Sultan’, ‘Sindh’, and ‘Sahib’ and took about 45 mins to reach its destination, halting at Byculla, Sion and Bhandup. It has been a mystery as to why Lord Falkland did not attend the ceremonies and instead took to the hills. Regular train service between Bombay and Thana was opened to the public two days later, from April 18, 1853 with two trains running each way daily, i.e., one in the morning and another in the evening. The Victoria Terminus building as we see today came later. Its construction began in May 1878 and was completed in May 1888. A plaque on its completion was placed on the building. This was the beginning of the GIP railway.
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On the western side of Bombay twice daily service was provided from the same date up to Mahim station from Bombay's Victoria Terminus with the bifurcation taking place at Dadar Junction. The first stations to be opened on this line were Byculla, Sion, Bhandup, Thana and Mahim, in addition to the Victoria Terminus.
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Lord Elphinstone, the next Governor of Bombay (1819-1827), later extended the Bombay-Thana line up to Kalyan on May 1, 1854, and further extension up to Vasind in on the Northeastern side was completed on October 1, 1855. On November 1, 1856 stations at Dadar, Kurla, Titwala, Vasind, Badlapur, and Neral were opened. The line was further extended from Kalyan up to Palasdhari on the Southeastern side on May 12, 1856. The Palasdhari-Khopoli line was also completed in 1856 (Khopoli gaining importance because of the construction of a hydro-electric power generation station which was to play a crucial role in supplying power for the electrification of the Bombay to Poona line in 1927). By 1857 regular train service was operating (steam locomotives) between Bombay's Victoria Terminus and Mahim, Vasind, and Khopoli. In 1864 the first long-distance inter-city train commenced service between Bombay and Surat, the two trading centers of the British; the former emerging as a new financial and business powerhouse, and the latter fading.
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In 1863, Sir Bartle Frere, Governor of Bombay, opened the railway over the Bhor ghat connecting Bombay to the Deccan Plateau. Many natives believed that the steep ghats could never be traversed by a railway, but a British engineer named Berkeley. The GIP railway quarters at Byculla were named after him as Berkeley Place.
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In the mid 1870s the Bombay, Baroda & Central India (BB&CI) railway extended its service up to Colaba station where considerable cotton trading activity was taking place. However, with the shifting of the cotton market to Sewri in 1924 the importance of Colaba as a railway station decreased. The last train left Colaba station of 31 December 1930, and the new terminal of the BB&CI railway for long distance trains at Bombay Central was completed in the same year. The old Gothic style station at Colaba was demolished and the station Cotton Green at Sewri on the Harbour Line took its place. The trading building at Cotton Green is still standing with a much-weathered look compared to its former glory.
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The railway tracks of the GIP and BB&CI railways literally cut Bombay city in to segments. Level crossings at important thoroughfares made it difficult for people and vehicles to pass as the gates had to be shut when trains were passing by. Hence a number of bridges were built over the railway tracks to provide easy access from one section to another. The Frere Bridge and Kennedy Bridge, respectively, that carry Grant Road and Girgaum Back Road over the BB&CI tracks were completed in 1866. The French Bridge at Opera House connected Chowpattyy with central Bombay and was completed in the early 1900s. The Wodehouse Bridge at Colaba was completed in 1875 but no longer exists. The Bellasis Bridge at Bombay Central and the Falkland Bridge were also laid in 1875. The Carnac Bridge over the GIP line was built the following year in 1868. The Elphinstone Bridge at Wadi Bunder connected Chinch Bunder to the docks area. The Byculla Bridge over the GIP lines was built in 1885.
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On the eastern side of India, the first passenger train steamed out of Howrah station destined for Hoogly (24 miles) on 15th August 1854 operated by the East India Railway (EIR). Two services were operated daily; one in the morning and another in the evening. The train made stops at Bally, Srirampore, and Chandernagore (a French colony at that time). The fare was Rs.3 first class and 7 annas by third class. The main ticket booking office was on the Calcutta bank of the river, at the Armenian ghat, and the train fare covered the trip by ferry to the station on the other side of the river to the Howrah end. A tin shed and a single line flanked by two narrow platforms served as a station. The present Howrah station building was constructed between 1901 and 1906.
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Next came the trains in south India, with the first line being opened on 1st July 1856 by the Madras Railway Company. It ran between Veyasarpandy and Walajah Road (Arcot), a distance of 63 miles.
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In the north, a length of 119 miles of tracks was laid from Allahabad to Cawnpore (Kanpur) on 3rd March 1859. The first passenger train ran from Hathras Road to Mathura Cantonment on 19th October, 1875.
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The steam locomotives to haul trains in India at that time were all imported from England. Later some were assembled in India using imported spare parts. The first totally Indian-made locomotive was the F-734 that was built in 1895 by the Ajmer workshop of the Rajputana Malwa Railway. By 1880 the Indian Railway system had a total route mileage of about 9000 miles.
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On the GIP side the two mountainous or ghat sections at Bhor Ghat and Thal Ghat were very steep and an elaborate method of “reversing” maneuvers had to be adopted because of steam traction which was un suited to hauling trains over steep inclines. Thus, when trains became longer and the load increased, it was time to bring in electric traction. The electric era was ushered in phases:
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1925 – Bombay to Kurla section of the GIP – 9.5 miles
1928 – Bombay to Borvili, BB&CI – 22.5 miles
1929 – Bombay to Kalyan, GIP, - 33 miles
1929-1930 – Kalyan to Igatpuri, GIP, - 52 miles
1929-1930 – Kalyan to Poona – 86 miles (incl. Ghat section)
1930 – Madras beach to Tambaram, Madras Railay Co., meter gauge – 18 miles
1936 – Borivli to Virar, BB&CI – 16.5 miles.
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Today, steam locomotion has almost disappeared and considerable lengths of tracks have been electrified. Diesel locomotives are also being used extensively on Indian railways. All these locomotives are made in India.
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The Neral-Matheran “toy train” rail link
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Abdul Hussain, son of the business tycoon and first Indian Sheriff of Bombay Sir Adamjee Peerbhoy, was a regular visitor to Matheran at the turn of the century. After having obtained a reluctant consent from his father, young Abdul Hussain camped at Neral in 1900 to plan for a narrow gauge railway line to Matheran. The construction started in 1904 and the two feet narrow gauge line finally opened to traffic in 1907. Four articulated 0-6-0 Tank engines were ordered from Orenstein & Koppel Co. in 1907. Two survivors of these locomotives can be seen today: at the Delhi Railway Museum and another at Jodhpur. Adamjee Peerbhoy received a knighthood for his generosity in donating 16 lakhs of his own money towards this project. The project employed about 1000 beggaris (those who carry mud and concrete on their heads) and also the engineers and men of the 121st Pioneer Regiment of the army.
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Articulation of the locomotive is provided by floating leading and trailing axles on Kleiner principle. With this articulation, the rigid wheelbase is theoretically reduced to minimum. Neral, the starting station of this line, falls nearly midway on the Mumbai-Pune route of the central railway. Starting from Neral, the narrow gauge line runs parallel to the main broad gauge line leaving the original post man’s road to the west of Hardal hill, then turning sharply east. The ascent commences and road and rail meet at the end of the third mile near Jummapatti station. They part company again to meet a mile further just beyond the steep slope of Bhekra Khud. A narrow stretch of level ground terminates in the abrupt rise underlying Mount Barry. To avoid a reversion station (like the one below Khandala now in disuse), a large horseshoe embankment was constructed. Round this the line runs for a mile in the north direction till it turns back through the only tunnel on the route. ‘One Kiss Tunnel’ gives a honeymooning couple time just sufficient for a single kiss! The line now passes under Mount Barry, and to negotiate the rise here, the line zigzags sharply backwards and forwards twice passing through two deep cuttings. The line pursues its way more decorously and reaches out more or less straight for panorama point after skirting it and then returns by Simpson’s tank and terminates close to the Matheran Bazaar. The railway is 12.5 miles long. The permanent way originally consisted of rail 30 lb to a yard with a ruling gradient of 1 in 20. Speed is limited to 12 miles per hour only. The rails have since been replaced by heavier ones weighing 42 lb to a yard. The permanent way Inspector of Neral maintains this line. As a precautionary measure against frequent landslides, the line used to close during the monsoons (July-August) till recently, but now passenger services continue even during rainy months. To commemorate the continuance of trains in the monsoon months of 1982, a MLR loco No. 741 (O&K 1767 of 1905) has been installed at the Matheran station.
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The “toy train” does not run during the monsoon season and most of the hotels also close down during that period. The tracks are damaged to varying extent each year and repairs are carried out after the monsoon. However, in the unprecedented rains 26-27 July 2005, the tracks were so severely damaged that it took the Central Railway almost a year and half to make the necessary repairs. The Matheran-Neral rail link was reopened in 2007, the centenary of the toy train.
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The Bombay-Poona “Deccan Queen”
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The Deccan Queen is one of the Indian Railways best loved trains. Despite the advent of much faster and more modern trains in recent years, the Deccan Queen continues to stand out in a class of her own. Indeed, the Deccan Queen has only aptly been described as the Blue Eyed Babe of the Indian Railways. June 1, 1930 was a red letter day for the Indian Railways, when the erstwhile Great Indian Peninsula Railway (GIPR, now Central Railway) flagged off the 7-car Deccan Queen, India's first deluxe train, to run between the commercial capital Bombay and the cultural capital, Poona. The Deccan Queen has several firsts or 'among the firsts' to her credit: she was India's first superfast train, she was the first long distance electric hauled passenger train, she was one of India's first vestibuled trains. The Deccan Queen was the first to have a Ladies Only car, and amongst the first to feature a diner. (dining car). The train has an exciting and chequered history..The Deccan Queen initially had two train sets (rakes): one painted silver with scarlet moldings, and the other royal blue with golden trim. The underframes of these cars were built by the Metropolitan Cammel C&W Works in Birmingham, England, while the car bodies and coach work were assembled at the Matunga Carriage and Wagon works, Bombay. The standard of comfort was distinctly colonial, in keeping with the upmarket image of this train, and the commuting gentry. Each rake provided accommodation for 61 first class and 156 second class passengers, with 19 attendants. It is interesting to note that there were no third class bogies on the Deccan Queen at the time it was started. This practice continued till the 1960s.
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The glorious Deccan Queen overshadowed the earlier prestigious train on this route, the Poona Mail. Indeed, the Queen revolutionized rail travel in India, cutting down the journey time between Bombay and Poona from a whopping 6 hours (including the reversing manueuver) during steam traction days to an amazing 2 hr 45 min with electric traction. Of course, a Poona Race train had been doing the distance in 3 hr 26 min pulled by steam traction in 1901. This was including three engine changes and one reverse enroute (at Khandala), but this was the exception rather than the rule: it would have been impossible to sustain a regular commercial train service with such a breathless schedule and so many engine changes over a mere 192 km of route! The 2 hr 45 min of the Deccan Queen in 1930 was therefore quite revolutionary for a day train providing a regular service, unlike the seasonal race special.
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It is interesting to note however that the Deccan Queen was originally intended exclusively for the Colonial overlords. Due to this, she was initially run as a weekend special for the 'goraa sahibs' (white bosses). For over a decade, it was considered unprofitable to run the train during the week, due the poor patronage. It was only by 1943 after non-Europeans were allowed on board did the clientele pick up, and traffic built up enough to justify a daily service. Gradually, the Deccan Queen came to be known as a 'husbands' special', catering to men who spent all week working in Bombay, and returned to their families on weekends. Nonetheless, an increasing number of working women too had become part of the passenger profile of the Deccan Queen in the 1950s.
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In the years, 1930s to 1950s, the Deccan Queen was invariably hauled by the Metropolitan Vickers locomotives, the most well-known being the one that came from the Swiss Locomotive-Metropolitan Vickers collaboration (SLM) to Bombay in 1938 as a passenger class loco known as EA/2 4025 (later WCP2 20024) with 1-Co-2 wheel arrangement was named after Sir Roger Lumley, Governor of Bombay (1937-1943). It is likely that at Karjat station the Deccan Queen pushed by the goods train locomotive (WCG 1/GIPR EF/1) named after Sir Leslie Wilson, Governor of Bombay (1923-1928). The latter is the ‘Swiss crocodile’ type locomotives also imported in 1928 SLM. Both these locomotives can be seen at the National Railway Museum in Delhi.
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The EA/1s (WCP/1) were the first electric locomotives to run on Indian soil. They were used for passenger operations on the 1500 Volts DC Bombay to Poona/Manmad sections. In keeping with electrics of that time, these engines too bear a steam locomotive type of wheel arrangement. It can be safely stated that the EA/1s heralded the arrival of high speed train travel in India, as they used to do the 192 km steeply graded Bombay-Poona run with the 7-car Deccan Queen in 2 hr. 45 min. in the 1930s. Today (2007) the Deccan Queen takes 3 hrs and 15 mins to do the same run. This is probably due more to heavy rail traffic on the this route than the pulling speed of the locomotives. Because in the past it was easy to always give the Deccan Queen the green signal all the way. It ran non-stop at top speed from Bombay VT to Karjat. There a second engine would be attached at the rear to push the train up the steep western ghats up to Lonavla station. There the rear locomotive would be detached and the train carried on to Poona. On the return journey the next morning, the same locomotive would be attached to the front and the Deccan Queen would be pulled by two locomotives up to Karjat. The second locomotive while going down was needed due to the steep incline and the security of having a second vacuum brake system in case one locomotive’s brake system failed. On the way down, the driver(s) were instructed to halt the train without fail at Monkey Hill at the steepest part of the ghats. This was done not only to check the brakes, but in case of brake failure the Monkey Hill cabin man could change the tracks so that the train would end up in a sand and gravel laden ‘catch siding’. The EA/1s had a rigid wheelbase of two driving wheels. The third driving wheel is articulated with the third carrying wheel. Each of the driven axles was powered by a pair of motors which could be connected in various combinations to give six different speeds. One more EA/1 is preserved in the Nehru Science Centre in Bombay.
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The Reversing Maneuver At Khandala
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In order the traverse the steep ghats on the way to Poona, the steam engine hauled trains had to undergo an elaborate maneuver called “reversing” just below Khandala, because the steam locomotives, even with two of them attached to a train could barely cope. This not only lengthened the travel time, but meant less number of trains enroute. The sight and the sounds of two steam engines pulling a goods train up the ghats was something really exciting to behold. My father remembered it and even took pictures of the train that we have, but I did not see it as steam locomotion in the ghats was already history when I was growing up in the 1050s and 60s in Bombay.
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Today, the steam locomotive is a thing of the past, and a great era and romance with steam has ended. There were other reasons, than the one mentioned above, for the demise of steam traction: 1) steam locomotives needed two firemen to keep the boiler supplied with coal on fast long-haul trains or in the ghat sections (i.e., four men/locomotive), 2) the steam locomotive had to make stops to take on water every 150-200 miles, a process that could take well over 40 mins (hence a fresh engine, loaded to capacity with coal and water, had to be kept ready in the case of fast trains like the Frontier Mail), 3) the smoke from the locomotive meant not only atmospheric pollution but passengers (except those who traveled in air-conditioned carriages) were also covered in layers of soot before they arrived at their destination, and 4) lastly, steam locomotives operated in one direction, and needed a turnstile to turn them around for the journey in the opposite direction. These turnstiles were available only at main stations.
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The Bombay-Surat “Flying Ranee”
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Unlike the GIP Railway's Deccan Queen, which had a Royal lineage right from the start, the BB&CI Railway's Flying Ranee was made of more humble stuff. However, she did not lag behind in achieving Royalty status. The train is today an immensely popular and heavily subscribed commuter train, carrying office goers and regular commuters between Bombay Central and Surat. The Flying Ranee leaves Surat at 05:30 hrs, arriving Bombay Central at 10:00 hrs. On the return journey, she leaves Bombay Central at 17:55, reaching Surat at 22:00 hrs.
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Virtually no information about the Flying Ranee is available about her heydays, i.e., the period between 1906 and 1914, when she ran as a weekly excursion between Bombay and Surat. Lovingly referred to as the 'Weekend Special', this immensely popular version of the Flying Ranee was endowed with a novel mascot, the 'Gutta Percha Willie', after a hard working character in a novel by George McDonald. Sadly, this phase of glory was short lived, and the Flying Ranee was taken off the rails on 24 April 1914, when World War I broke out.
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On 1 May 1937 the train reappeared, but this time with a Royalty status. She was given a regal send-off at Surat station. An article in an old issue of a magazine of the BB&CI Railway described the event in some detail: (Quote) Mrs. Sethna, wife of the Parsi District Supdt., Bulsar, who has taken a leading part in the inception and organization of the service, undertook the pleasant duty of naming the train before a large holiday crowd. Standing on a platform alongside the gigantic steam locomotive that was gaily decorated for the occasion Mrs. Sethna said: "I name you Flying Ranee, Queen of the West Coast. May all your trips be safe and may all those who travel by you enjoy a happy and carefree holiday and a safe and comfortable homeward journey". This brief address was repeated in Gujarati, after which Mrs. Sethna unveiled the name plaque on the engine's smoke box door. As though all this fanfare and reintroduction of the train was not enough indication of the train's popularity, some thrilled businessmen pooled in cash and distributed colorful saris and white dhotis to all the train's passengers that day. Generous gifts and food packets were also distributed by some passengers on board the train (unquote). The train became very popular amongst businessmen as it connected two important commercial centers, Bombay and Surat. It was very convenient for those having work in Bombay, to travel from Surat and Navsari early in the morning and return back home the same day.
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The Flying Ranee carried an observation car at that time with an on-board telephone service. In this Royal format, the Flying Ranee's running time between Bombay and Surat had been reduced to a mere four hours in each direction. This was considered, at that time, an outstanding example of steam locomotive performance. With nine stops and an average speed of 50 mph, the Flying Ranee was the fastest medium distance express train in the country. With the outbreak of WWII in 1939 the Flying Ranee was relegated to the storage yards once again.
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There was an unusually long gap before the Flying hit the tracks. This time, the train was flagged off on 1 Nov. 1950 from Surat. Its eight cars were packed to capacity with 600 odd passengers on this re-inaugural run. The train was adorned with flamboyant buntings and garlands of flags. The station master at Surat, one Mr. Khadubhai, threw a tea party on the platform from which the train pulled out at 06:00 hrs sharp. The then District Magistrate, Mr. Deshpande, broke the auspicious coconut and spread the coconut water on the engine, then garlanding her. Finally, he broke the flower cord to mark the inauguration (for the third time) of the Flying Ranee. It appeared that everybody who was somebody in Surat's bureaucracy turned up on the occasion. At a special press conference held immediately after the inauguration, the General Manager at Surat, Mr. K.P. Mushran, announced that it was proposed to introduce a radiogram on the Flying Ranee, just like on the Frontier Mail. In all probability, this radiogram would be located in the train's dining car, he said. He also promised that the dining car would be stocked with sufficient reading material to relieve passengers of their boredom during the course of their four-hour journey.
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The post-independence reborn Flying Ranee carried second and third class cars, with separate dining facilities for vegetarians and non vegetarians in addition to the first class. Reservations for the third class could be made one day in advance, including from a special window at Churchgate Station. In the 1950s, as was the earlier practice in the 1930s, the Flying Ranee ran daily, except on Sundays, leaving Bombay Central on Saturdays and Surat on Mondays. Despite it being a fast train, additional halts had been subsequently provided at Borivli, Palghar, Dahanu Road, Daman (Vapi), Udwada, Valsad, and Billimoria. Still more halts were introduced later at Gholwad, Umbergaon Road and Sanjan. The once “flying” queen’s wings had been clipped perhaps forever, reducing its speed and also its exclusivity in its new avatar to serve the janta.
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The Bombay-Peshawar “Frontier Mail”
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The Bombay to Peshawar Frontier Mail made her maiden run from Colaba station on 1 Sept. 1928. Brainchild of the erstwhile BB&CI Railway, the Frontier Mail was put on line to carry passengers and mail from Bombay (having arrived by ship from Europe and USA) to Delhi and, in collaboration with the NWR, even beyond to Peshawar (now in Pakistan) via the Punjab, Lahore and Rawalpindi (which was then the detraining point for Kashmir). The distance between Bombay and Delhi was some 1,393 km., and that to Peshawar a whopping 2,335 km.
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During the winter months of September through December, the Frontier Mail used to depart from Ballard Pier Mole station. British journalists at that time used to refer to this train as the 'duplicate portion' of the Frontier Mail. Ballard Pier Mole station was an ideal hop on point for the several British ladies and gentlemen arriving from England by steamer. It was also a pick up point for mail to be distributed, like its passengers brought in from Europe, to all parts of India by the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company (or P&O) mail boats. The passengers would arrive a day or two before their letters and heavy luggage at destination. It is interesting to note that when the train left Ballard Pier Mole station, it traversed over the tracks first of the Bombay Port Trust Railway, and then the GIP Railway, and then eventually crossed onto the rails of the BB&CI Railway at Parel-Dadar.
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The Frontier Mail had another reason for its introduction: the BB&CI Railway wanted to give its arch rival the GIP Railway a run for its money. The GIP Railway already had a train, the Punjab Limited, running between Bombay VT and Peshawar, but it took several days to get there. With the Frontier Mail, the transit time was reduced to a mere 72 hrs.
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The competition between the BB&CI and GIP Railways is almost legendary. As long ago as 1855, when the GIP Railway was struggling to obtain approval from England for construction of a line across the Western Ghats, the rival BB&CI Railway jumped in with its proposal that an alternative route via Baroda would be more practicable, it would avoid the arduous ghats, and this new line could connect with the East Indian Railway (EIR), something which the GIP Railway had been hoping to achieve once it got permission to cross the ghats anyway. Beginning with that, the competition carried on till both the Railways had their own trains running from Bombay to Peshawar: the GIP's Punjab Limited, and now the BB&CI's Frontier Mail.
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The Frontier Mail was considered more than just a train: it was rather a conversation piece, an exotic fast running train that whisked you right along the length of the country, through Mathura, Delhi, and the Punjab and set you down deep into the North West Frontier town of Peshawar. It was a time when the Frontier Mail could lay claim to being India's fastest long distance train. In fact, this fact was recognized even the The Times newspaper of London in 1930, when it described the Frontier Mail as 'one of the most famous express trains within the British Empire'. The Frontier Mail's punctuality too was something to reckon with. It was generally believed that your Rolex watch might let you down, but not the Frontier Mail. In fact, you could set your watch by it, 9 times out of 10!
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The Western Railway's Headquarters building outside Churchgate station was the first building to be floodlit in Bombay, in keeping with a similar practice of floodlighting buildings back in England. But the BB&CI building was lit up not to highlight its grandeur. Every evening, when the Frontier Mail arrived at Bombay, the building would be floodlit to announce the safe arrival of the train and its passengers. Of course, in the absence of any skyscrapers in those days, this floodlighting could be spotted from a distance of about 36 square miles.
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The punctuality of the Frontier Mail was, in fact, of such crucial importance to the fastidious British sahibs that when on one occasion, in August 1929 exactly 11 months after its inauguration, the train arrived 15 mins late, there was a big uproar among the railway circles, with the driver being asked to explain the reasons for this 'inexcusable' delay. This was considered, at that time, a blemish indeed among the jewels in the BB&CI Railway’s crown.
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The Frontier Mail was an elite train, patronized by the elitist. It used to carry officers of the IPS (Indian Police Service), IFS (Indian Foreign Service) and IES (Indian Education Service) and the like, who were posted along the frontier lines throughout north India. In the 1930s and 1940s, the Frontier Mail carried 450 passengers in six cars, of which one was an elaborate dining car. This dining car has now been replaced by a pantry car. Today, the train runs out of Bombay Central, and terminates at Amritsar, in the Punjab. The name of the train has also been changed from Frontier Mail to Golden Temple Mail. Today, the train lacks the grandeur of the past and looks like any other train.
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Dr. Ardeshir B. Damania
Email: abdamania AT yahoo DOT com
This article is under copyright and no part may be reproduced without prior permission of the author.

A HISTORY OF ANCIENT BOMBAY (Part I)

2010-09-13T22:19:00.001-07:00

By Dr. Ardeshir B. Damania
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Neither by service nor fee
Come I to mine estate-
Mother of Cities to me
For I was born in her gate,
Between the palms and the sea,
Where the world-end steamers wait.
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From Rudyard Kipling’s Dedication to the City of Bombay
Born December 30, 1865 at Bombay, Died January 18, 1936 at London.
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THE CITY OF BOMBAY (18.580N Lat., 72.500E Long.) was originally an archipelago consisting of seven islands namely Colaba, Mazagaon, Old Woman's Island, Wadala, Mahim, Parel, and Matunga-Sion. Documented evidence of human habitation dates back to 250 BCE, when it was known as Heptanesia which in ancient Greek means a cluster of seven islands. This group of islands, which has since been joined together by a series of reclamations (it took 60 years to merge the seven islands of Bombay into one landmass between 1784 and 1845), formed part of the kingdom of Ashoka, the famous Maurya Emperor of India. The Elephanta Caves near Bombay and the Kanheri Caves near Borivli, the Karla Caves near Lonavla and the caves at Andheri (now under encroachment) all date from that period 300 to 250 years BCE. After Asoka’s death, these islands passed into the hands of various Buddhist and Hindu rulers of the Silhara dynasty until 1343. In that year, the Mohammedan Gujarat Sultanate took possession and the kings of that province of India ruled the islands for the next two centuries. The only vestige of their dominion over these islands that remains today is the mosque at Mahim and perhaps the tomb at Haji Ali. The durgah at Mahim was built in 1431 in honour of holyman Makhdum Fakir Ali Paru, popularly known as Makhdum Ali Mahimi Baba, a master preacher of the Quran. The ‘asthana’ in the durgah houses the Quran Sharif that was hand-written by the Baba. Jame Masjid, adjoining the durgah, was supposed to have been constructed a few years before the durgah. Muslims from all sects visit the durgah on the seventh day of the Jamadil Akhir (Muslim month) when the Quran Sharif is taken out for public viewing in a procession.
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The Haji Ali dargah located on a tiny islet off the beach at Mahalaxmi was also built in 1431 by a wealthy Muslim merchant who renounced his worldly possessions before embarking on a pilgrimage to Mecca. He died on the pilgrimage and his remain were interred at the tomb at Haji Ali.
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The islands were referred to as "Bom Baia" or “Bom Bahia”, which in Portuguese means "Good Bay", by a Portuguese mariner named Francis Almeida who sailed into the bay in 1508 with his fleet. This is because the Bombay harbour is very nicely protected, because of its unique situation, against storms that frequently occur in the Arabian Sea, especially during the monsoon season (June to September). During those months, when the open seas are very rough, fishermen rarely put out to sea. In 1534 the Portuguese, who already possessed many important trading centers on the western coast of India, such as Panjim, Daman, and Diu, took Bombay by force of arms from the Mohammedans (Sultan Bahadur Shah of Gujarat) without much resistance. This led to the establishment of numerous churches that were constructed in areas where the majority of people were Roman Catholics. The St. Michael’s church at Mahim (where a Novena takes place every Wednesday) was built by Franciscan monks from Portugal in 1534. In 1565 it was enlarged. In 1973 the church was extensively renovated and enlarged due to its increased popularity, especially on Wednesdays. The Portuguese also built other churches in Bombay. One of them was originally called Nossa Senhora da Gloria (Our Lady of Glory) when it was built at Mazagaon. However, the British government wanted to build a railway line where this church stood and so it was pulled down and present Gloria Church was built opposite the Byculla railway station in 1913.
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There used to be two areas in Bombay called "Portuguese Church". One of them was the church built in 1610 between Dadar and Prabhadevi. It was extensively re-designed in 1973 by Charles Correa. However, only one church with the original Portuguese-style facade still remains; it is the St. Andrew's church at Bandra first built in 1600. The Portuguese also consolidated their possession by building forts at Sion, Mahim, Bandra, and Bassien (with a church) which, although in disrepair, can still be seen. A chapel was built at Mount Mary in Bandra in 1640. However, during a Maratha raid in 1738 the chapel was destroyed and the statue of the Virgin thrown in to the sea. The Kolis recovered the statue and later the Chapel was rebuilt at the same spot in 1761. There existed a cross, installed by the Portuguese, where today stands the Santa Cruz station. In Portuguese Santa Cruz means “Holy Cross”. Goregaon was named after the Gore family that once had a house and land there. And Khar village was so named because of salt flats there, “Khar” meaning “salty”. In the mean time, several other ports were thriving towards the north, viz., Janjira and Panjim (Panaji), and south viz., Veraval, Surat, and Diu that carried on trade with the Arab world and Europe.
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Built to commemorate the dead of the three Afghan Wars that the British fought between 1835 and 1843, the Afghan Church in Bombay stands guard over the living and the dead. Today the few visitors belong to the armed forces since it is located in the military cantonment of Colaba. Originally a temporary chapel of thatched roof was erected about half-a-mile south of what was then known as the Sick Bungalows, today a Naval Hospital. Attendees brought their own chairs. The land for this church was released by the British government on the condition that its spire should be seen as a landmark from the sea as a guide to ships coming into the Bombay Harbor. An imposing basalt structure with a towering limestone spire, the church is impressive with its wide Gothic arches and beautiful stained-glass windows. The pews of this church have slots for rifles. Soldiers were allowed to bring in their guns and ammunition. Besides the British soldiers, it also commemorates different Indian regiments, including the Bombay Army, the Madras Army, and Ranjit Singh's army from Lahore. The records mention that out of 16,000 men who began their retreat from the battlefield, only one reached exhausted and staggering back to Jalalabad to tell the story. Designed by Henry Conbeare, city engineer (who also laid the plans to build Vihar lake), its architect was the Victorian William Butterfield. The church was consecrated on January 7, 1858 by Bishop Harding. The spire cost Rs 5,65,000 and was completed on June 10, 1865. Sir Cawasjee Jahangir raised the amount privately for the spire and himself contributed Rs 7,500 for it and also had an illuminated clock placed in the tower. The great east and west windows were designed by James Wailles, stained glass expert during the mid-1800s. It is the finest stained glass window to date in the city, superior to those in Rajabai Tower and Victoria Terminus. The great significance of the bell tower is the peals of its eight bells that remain unrivalled in western India. Eight bells usually take anything from two and a half hours to fours to ring and have 40,320 changes to their sequences. In the chancellery, one can still find the memorial stones with an inscription just below it: "This church was built in memory of the officers and private soldiers, too many to be recorded who fell mindful of their duty, by sickness or by sword on the campaign of Scinde (Sind) and Afghanistan, A.D. 1838-43." A memorial brass set in the Chancellery pavement also commemorates its founder, the Reverend G Piggot. Milestones were embedded in the ground each mile all the way out to Sion with the Afghan Church being mile zero. None of these stones remain as they were uprooted and discarded during road widening in the 1960s. The Nesbit Road, which runs from the junction opposite the Synagogue at Byculla up to the Sales Tax office in Mazagaon was named after the Reverend Robert Nesbit (1803-1853): Missionary of the Free Church of Scotland, at Bombay.
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The Ghodbunder Road, that runs from Mahim to Borivili (where it ends at the creek) along Bombay’s western corridor, derives its name from a rather unusual source — the area that the Road runs across and ends was a former port. This port, or “bunder”, was a place of heavy traffic, with ships continuously unloading their goods here. One of the most important merchandise to be unloaded at this port were horses or “ghoda” (which are not native to India) and were imported here from Arabian ports sometime during 1210 AD. That is why the area came to be called Ghodbunder, or the pier where horses were unloaded from ships. Bandra, at that time, was a tiny sleepy fishing village inhabited by the Koli fishermen and also small farmers. Bandra was acquired by the British East India Company even while the rest of the land that was to become Bombay belonged to the Portuguese.
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In 1662 the seven islands were pledged in dowry to the King Charles II of England on his marriage to Portuguese Princess Catherine of Braganza. Not unlike the Sultanate of Gujarat, the Portuguese too thought the islands to be not worth retaining. The Royal Governor, Humphrey Cooke (1665-1666) took possession of the islands on behalf of the Crown on January 17, 1665. On March 27, 1668 the islands were acquired by the English East India Company on lease from the Crown for an annual sum of only 10 Pounds Sterling in gold guineas; so little did the British royalty value these islands at that time. The Company, operating from Surat (a river port), was in search for a deep-water port so that larger ocean-going vessels could dock. After much searching, they found the islands of Bombay with its natural harbour suitable for development. Furthermore, an overland attack on Bombay islands was nearly impossible without a warning. In 1675 Aungier took possession of the island of Colaba and the Old Woman’s Island. The shifting of the East India Company's headquarters to Bombay in 1687 led to the eclipse of Surat as a principal trading center. The British corrupted the Portuguese name "Bom Baia" to "Bombay". The Kolis, among the original fisher-folk inhabitants of Bombay, used to call the islands "Mumba" after Maha Amba, the Hindu deity to whom a temple is dedicated near Bhuleshwar now in central Bombay. Built by a Koli in the 14th century, it was originally located near the old phansi talao (hanging lake) at Bori Bunder where death sentences were carried out. This temple was shifted to its present location in Bhuleshwar, a highly congested locality in Bombay in 1737 where it can still be seen. Funds for the construction of the temple to the Godess Mumba Devi at its new site were provided by Pandurang Shivaji Sonar, a goldsmith of the area. The other earliest inhabitants of the islands were the Aagris. They were a tribe that harvested salt from the sea on the eastern side of Bombay. Some of these salt pans can still be seen east of the Eastern Express Highway from Bombay to Thana. Later the salt pans were acquired by Parsi merchants, among them those from the nearby town of Bhiwandi.
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The City’s first church, St Thomas’s Church, was built in 1718 at the spot close to the Horniman Circle and it still stands to this day. However, the Oldest existing Parsi Agiary (or Fire-Temple) in Bombay is the Banaji Limji Agiary that was built in 1709 through donation from the Banaji family (whose ancestral home is still standing next door to the Agiary). And the oldest Atash Behram (higher fire than an agiary) is the one built by Dadysett at Thakurdwar in 1783.
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Sir George Oxenden became the first East India Company's British Governor of the islands in 1668, and was succeeded in 1669 by Mr. Gerald Aungier 1669-1677 who made Bombay islands more populous by attracting Gujarati traders, Parsi ship-builders, and Muslim and Hindu manufacturers from the mainland. And thus the foundation for the cosmopolitan character of the city was laid. Aungier fortified defenses by constructing the fort and provided stability by constituting courts of law. He also established the first mint in the fort which still exists. The Fort, since then vanished except for a small portion of the wall, whose construction commenced in 1715 under the Governorship of Charles Boone (1715-1722) was completed in 1745. A castle was built upon a part of the existing Portuguese manor house that was largely destroyed in the process, although some parts of it, like the small look-out tower and the gate can still be seen in the INS Angre naval docks behind the Town Hall. Only a small fragment of the original ramparts of the Fort survives as part of the eastern boundary wall of the St. George's Hospital adjacent to the Victoria Terminus at Bori Bunder. A little-known fact about the Fort is the existence of at least 3 underground passages, fortified by bricks, that exists with an entrance under Ward #5 of the St. George’s Hospital and run for 1.5 km towards the Gateway of India, the Blue Gate and Church Gate. These tunnels were built around 1770s as an escape route when and if the Fort’s walls were breached during attacks by sea or land from the Portuguese, French, Dutch and the Siddi of Janjira. The underground passage has several skylights that allow light and air to enter. However, when the tunnel was last inspected it was full of muck and sea-water and stench of rotten fish was over-powering. The entrance to this secret passage is now shut by a wooden planks.
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The first Parsi to arrive in Bombay was Dorabji Nanabhoy Patel in 1640. He was appointed by the British to collect taxes from the local people to augment funds for the port to be developed later. The Parsis, originally from Persia, migrated to India about 1000 years ago. This they did to save their religion, Zoroastrianism, from invading Arabs who proselytized Islam. The rise of the Parsis from relatively inconspicuous farmers, weavers, carpenters, etc., in Gujarat to the great industrialists and merchants who dominated the trade of western India has been documented in great detail elsewhere. However, during 1689-1690 when a severe plague had struck down most of the Europeans in Bombay, the Siddi (Abyssinian) chief of Janjira Yakut Khan, who had some forts on the coastline 45 miles to the south under his command, made several attempts to re-possess the islands by force, especially the mosque at Mahim. But the son of Dorabji Nanabhoy, Rustomji Dorabji (1667-1763) and a trader by profession, successfully warded off the attacks on behalf of the British with the help of the Kolis. As a reward for his loyalty the British gave him the honorary hereditary title of “Patel”, the only Parsi to be so decorated. The remnants of the Koli settlements can still be seen in Bombay at Colaba, Backbay Reclamation, Mahim, Bandra, Khar, Bassien and Gorai/Madh Island.
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The walls of the Bombay Fort were punctuated by six gates - three on the landward side and three on the marine side. Between the two marine gates lay the quadrangular Bombay Castle. Opening out into the town on the landward side were the Apollo Gate on the South (opp. the Regal Cinema), the Bazar Gate to the North (just opp. the GPO), and the Church Gate (west of today’s Flora Fountain) towards the west. The Church Gate was so named because of the nearby St. Thomas's Cathedral originally founded in the 17th century and inaugurated during the Governorship of Charles Boone (1715-1722). Actually, the construction of this church was begun in 1675 but the progress came to a halt because of the frequent attacks by the Siddhis of Janjira. During this period the unfinished church was a shelter for beggars and badmashes. The work on the Cathedral was recommenced after the threat from the Siddhis was neutralized and it opened its doors to the public on Christmas Day 1718. The Fort itself, on completion in 1745, measured 2 miles in length (from north to south) and was only three fourths of a mile broad (from east to west). Parsis settled in the fort area from 1670s onwards.
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In 1725, a Parsi called Bhikaji, who came from Bharuch to Bombay to seek his fortune, on being successful got a well dug to provide drinking water for the people as such a facility was lacking outside the fort. At that time the well was only 150 yards from the sea and yet its water was sweet. Bhikhaji set up his business in Angrej Bazar, now known as Horniman circle, within walking distance from the well. It is believed by the Parsis that if you light a lamp near the well, then all your wishes are fulfilled. The well, at the southeastern corner of the Cross Maidan, still remains to this day and the Parsis continue to pray there, although everyone else uses its waters. In recent years the well has been vandalized much to distress and anger of the tiny Parsi community who has given so much to this city.
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In 1757, the Kamathis, or construction workers from Andhra Pradesh arrived in Bombay and set up base. The region where they finally settled down was the low-lying unwanted area near present day Mahalaxmi railway station. That part of Bombay city became known as Kamathipura, now notorious for its red-light district. In 1794 the Presidency Post Office was established.
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Between 1822 and 1838, cattle from the congested Fort area used to graze freely at the Camp Maidan (now called Azad Maidan), an open ground opposite the Victoria Terminus. In 1838, the British rulers introduced a 'grazing fee' that several cattle-owners could not afford. Therefore, Sir Jamshedji Jeejeebhoy spent 20,000 Indian Rupees (Rs.) from his own purse for purchasing some grass-lands near the seafront at Thakurdwar and saw that the starving cattle grazed without a fee in that area. In time the area became to be known as "Charni" meaning grazing. When a railway station on the Bombay, Baroda & Central India (BB&CI) railway was constructed there it was called Charni Road.
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During the early nineteenth century the trade in opium (especially Malwa opium) played a pivotal role in integrating Malwa (western Madhya Pradesh) and the West Coast of India with China and thus with the international capitalist economy. This was also the time when Bombay became the main commercial and financial centre of Western India. Sources state that the export of opium to China was a critical factor in the rise of Bombay to preeminence as well as in the emergence of the Indian capitalist class centered on this port.
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Bandra consisted of villages called Sherly, Malla, Rajan, Kantwadi, Waroda, Ranwar, Boran and Pali. It also included Chuim, which is now part of Khar. Ranwar had a tennis court and the Ranwar Club was famous for its Christmas and New Years Eve dances. Most of the people in Bandra worked for the East India Company and hence were called East Indians. In the Bandra/Khar of the 1940s and earlier, large cottages and bungalows with extensive gardens were available for rent at only Rs 30/- a month. Local marriages in villages of Bandra were held with an eight day celebration from Thursday to Thursday. On Sunday the whole village was invited to a feast. Thursday was the pig slaughter day and Friday to make pappads (papadums) for snacking with alcoholic drinks. Saturday was reserved to make fudges and bring water from the village well to bathe the bride or groom. Sunday was the wedding ceremony, followed by a long reception lasting way in to the night. Monday was day of rest and to finish the remaining food, and on Tuesday the feet of guests were washed by the hosting family members in exchange for cash. Then a farewell dinner on Wednesday and guests left on Thursday morning by which time the honeymoon for the wedded couple was supposed to be over.
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Tradition has it that the suburb was originally known as ‘Vandra’ as it was home of several hundred monkeys who inhabited both Pali Hill and Mt. Mary Hill. Then it was “Bandor” as the Portuguese called Bandra in 1505. It was also called Bandera, Bandura, Bandore, Pandara, Bandorah, Bandara and Vandre. But finally it was officially designated as “Bandra” when the railway station signboard was painted at the end of the last century and the Bandra station and platforms were built. The main building of the old station on the west side is now a heritage site, complete with a crow’s nest atop it to look for arriving trains. On 12 April 1867 the first railway service was inaugurated with one train per day between Virar and Colaba in south Bombay. But six years later the train frequency was increased to 24 each day, and now over a thousand trains stop at Bandra daily in both directions.
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Salsette was originally separated by a tidal creek which the Portuguese called Bandora creek. The British changed it to Mahim creek. Bandra had two hills; Mount Mary Hill and Pali Hill. The monkeys that lived on these hills used to make forays in to the newly constructed Parsi and Hindu colonies in Matunga in the 1930s and harass the new tenants who had shifted there from central Bombay. Bandra was peopled mainly by East Indians (original residents of Bombay Salsette, Bassein, and Thana), a few Goans and immigrants from Mangalore, Parsis, Muslims, Europeans and of course the Hindu kolis. Till as late as the 1930s Bandra had only one bus service from Pali Naka via Hill Road to the railway station. People also walked to the station as they do even today. After WW II the building boom started in Bandra and some of the cottages were pulled down to construct 2 to 3 storied buildings. The construction activity gathered considerable pace after independence in 1947 and partition as Bombay took in immigrants from Pakistan, the ‘Sindhis’ who came mainly from the Sindh province of Punjab. The new immigrants were compensated by the Government of India for property and lad left behind in Pakistan, plus they arrived with a lot of cash of their own, and thus the much despised “pagri” system of obtaining a rental place to stay came in to existence in Bombay.
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The five oldest roads in Bandra are: 1) Ghodbunder Road (now Swami Vivekananda Road), which originally ran from Mahim Causeway, skirted Bazaar road, went past the Bandra Talao and continued to Ghodbunder. The road was later made straight by cutting through the talao; 2) The Bazar Road began at Ghodbunder Road opposite the Bandra Mosque and ran through the market keeping close to the coast which is now the Bandra Reclamation area; 3) Hill Road starting from the Station went through the middle of Bandra town, past St Andrews Church to terminate at the foot of the Mount Mary. The Tata Agiary (or Fire Temple) on Hill Road was built by Jamshedji Tata in 1884, in memory of his wife; 4) Pali Road began at St. Peters Church and cut through Pali village and went up to Danda village; and 5) Byramjee Jeejeebhoy Road which runs from St. Andrews to Lands End, was built by Byramjee Jeejebhoy at his own expense and opened to public in 1878. A stone recording this event can still be seen at the junction of Jeejeebhoy Road and Hill Road in Bandra.
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There are over 150 Crosses erected by the Christians at various places in Bandra. Many were built to ward off the plague epidemic (1896-1906) which caused a great loss of life in Bombay. The oldest is the one located in St. Andrew's church (built in 1616) compound. It stands 17ft high and is made of a single stone. It originally stood in the Jesuit Seminary of St. Anne built in 1610. The building was destroyed in 1739 and the cross was relocated to the St. Andrews Churchyard. The surface is carved all over with 39 emblems of the Passion of the Christ. Bazar Road is only 2 km long but houses a Jain Temple, a Ram Mandir, a Hanuman Temple, a Mosque, a Christian Chapel and a Gurudwara. A house on Bazar Road even has a Byzantine Cross on the archway of its entrance, indicating early trade ties with the Arab world, probably Syria, where just Byzantine crosses can still be seen on very old ruins of churches from the crusades. The wall enclosing the compound of St. Andrews Church and the arch was built by donations of a Parsi gentleman, Manockjee Sorabjee Ashburner, in 1862. This is recorded on a slab on the main gate of the enclosure. In 1879, Sir Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy constructed a flight of steps from the foot of Mt Mary hill to the north side of the church known as the Degrados de Bomanjee (steps of Bomanjee). The original statue of Mary was brought to Bombay by Jesuit priests from Portugal in 1570 who constructed a chapel at the spot. In 1700, Arab pirates attracted by the jewels held in the right hand of the statue, cut it off and made off with the loot. The statue was eventually found floating in the sea and re-adorned with the baby Jesus in her arms and once again placed inside the church. In 1896 the Mt. Mary chapel was pulled down because of the plague epidemic, but was reconstructed in its present form in 1904.
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Continued below

A HISTORY OF ANCIENT BOMBAY (Part II)

2010-09-13T22:17:00.000-07:00

Continued from previous post
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Many roads in Bandra, e.g., Perry, Carter, Bullock, Kane, and Bates were named after British collectors and magistrates. Mr. Carter was Collector of Bandra in 1924 and Mr. Bullock was a Chief Magistrate at Bandra Court. St. Stanislaus School was started in 1863 as a 'Native Boys Orphanage'. It became a High School in 1923 and was the first English medium school in the suburbs after the Scottish Orphanage at Mahim.
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Christians in Bandra were mostly of the Koli, Bhandari and Kunbi castes. The architect of today’s Mount Mary's Church was a Parsi named Shahpoorjee Chandabhoy. The basilica was built in 1904 at a cost of one lakh, a great amount in those days. It was the first time a non-catholic was asked to build a church. The original basilica was built to serve the Portuguese garrison posted at Castella de Aguada - the Bandra Fort at Lands End. Castella de Aguada, which in Portuguese means “Fort By the Water”, was built in 1640 to keep a watch over the mainland of Salsette. It was destroyed in a fire in 1739 and rebuilt in 1761, the year marking the beginning of Bandra Feast as it is celebrated today. In 1739 with the threat of Maratha invasion, the Portuguese appealed to the British for help. The British, within the safety of Bombay Fort, suggested to the Portuguese to destroy all fortifications around the chapel and the fortress Aguada was put to the torch. Despite this, the Marathas took over and ruled for two decades. But after the third battle of Panipat in January 1761, between the Afghans and the Marathas, Maratha power declined and Salsette including Bandra gradually came under British rule. The Portuguese were left with just Goa, Daman, and Diu. And the French still had Pondicherry.
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The English found in this newly-acquired territory of Salsette, thousands of Indian families who had converted to Christianity. It was from these families that the British drew their supplies of bandmasters, clerks, assistants, and secretaries. At that time there was hardly a Hindu or a Muslim who could read Roman characters. There was also a large influx of Christians from Goa, Karnataka and Kerala and this prompted local converts to take the name of 'East Indians' and formed the East Indian Association on 26 May 1887 to distinguish the 'sons of the soil' who were the first employees of the India Company from Indian Christians who came from further down the west coast and shared the same names and religion, and as expected, also vied for the same jobs.
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Parel belonged to the 13th century kingdom of Hindu Raja Bhimdev. The name Parel may have come from the Parali Vaijanath Mahadev temple, dedicated to Lord Shiva. Sewri, a small hamlet on the eastern shore of this island, was then called Shivdi, from another shrine to Shiva. During the Portuguese occupation of Parel island the Parali Mahadev temple was replaced by a Jesuit church and convent. They remained with the Jesuits until they were confiscated by the British, when the Jesuit priests sided with the Siddis during their battle with the British in 1689. In 1719 the buildings at Parel became the official summer residence of the Governor of Bombay. In the 1770s, when William Hornby was the Governor (1771-1784), he shifted his official residence to Parel. This area then became one of the poshest quarters of the city! A fort at Sewri dates from about this time. The glory days of Parel and Sewri lasted well into the 19th century. The Agri-Horticultural Society had established gardens at Sewri, which were acquired in 1865 by Arthur Crawford, then the Municipal Commissioner, for building a European cemetery which still exists. Two years later, tanners and dealers in dry fish were relocated in this area. By the 1870's several cotton mills had been established in the reclaimed lands in west Parel. With these developments Parel became very polluted due to burning of coal in the mills. In 1883 the wife of the Governor, John Fitzgibbon (1831-1835), died of Cholera in the Government House at Parel. Two years later the Governor's official residence was moved to Malabar Point opposite Chowpatty, where it remains to this day. In 1899, Dr. Waldemar Mordecai Wolfe Haffkine, a brilliant Jewish student of Dr. Louis Pasteur, founded a Plague Research Laboratory in Parel. In 1925 the old Government House at Parel was leased to the newly founded Haffkine Institute, thus honoring its founder for his tireless work to rid the country of deadly infectious diseases, such as rabies and the plague.
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Pioneering work on fighting tuberculosis was carried out by a German bacteriologist Dr Robert Koch. Koch visited Bombay in 1883 and again in 1902 and worked at the J.J. Hospital in a single room studying the causes of TB and cholera. The laboratory at J.J. Hospital began to be termed as “Koch’s Room” and can still be seen next to the morgue. He showed that a certain bacillus now termed “Koch’s Bacillus” was the real cause of TB. For his path-breaking investigation and discoveries in relation to TB, Koch was awarded the 1905 Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine. Dr. Koch died on May 27, 1910, in Baden-Baden, Germany at the age of 67.
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Dr. H.A. Ackworth, was Municipal Commissioner of Bombay in the 1890s. He had devoted much attention to the disease of leprosy. Hence when a special home to house sufferers of this dreaded disease was constructed at Wadala by the BMC, it was named after him. The home still exists and does great work among leprosy patients. However, the number of patients at the hospital is declining and the number of beds available has been reduced in recent years from 500 to 240. One of the wards has been turned in to a Leprosy Museum.
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In 1897 Seth Ardeshir Burjorji Godrej (1868-1936) founded the Godrej Brothers Co. at Lalbaugh. They started making locks and safes, and then moved on to soaps, steel furniture and refrigerators. Seth Ardeshir became a follower of Mahatma Gandhi and believed in not only boycotting British goods, but manufacturing them himself, surpassing the quality of the imported goods.
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The origin of the Dabbawallas' lunch delivery service dates back to the 1890s during the British Raj. At that time, males from various communities migrated to Mumbai for work. As there were no canteens or fast food centers then, if working people did not bring their lunch from home, they had to go hungry or go every day to a restaurant which was expensive. Even if the males had a wife or a cook, invariably lunch would not be ready when they left home for work early in the morning. Besides, different communities had different tastes and preferences that could only be satisfied by a home-cooked meal. Recognizing the need, Mahadeo Havaji Bacche (Mahadeo), a migrant from North Maharashtra, started the lunch delivery service. For his enterprise, Mahadeo recruited youth from the villages neighboring Mumbai, who were involved in agricultural work. They were willing to come as the income they got from agriculture was not enough to support their large families, and they had no education or skills to get work in the city. The service started with about 100 Dabbawalas and cost the client Rs.2 a month. Gradually, the number of Dabbawalas increased and the service continued even after the founder was no more. Following an intricate color and sign system the Dabbawallas can identify where exactly a tiffin box has to be delivered and returned back to its owner after the lunch is consumed. In 1998, Forbes Global magazine, conducted a quality assurance study on the Dabbawallas' operations and gave it a Six Sigma efficiency rating of 99.999999; i.e., the Dabbawallas made one error in six million transactions. That put them on the list of Six Sigma rated companies, along with multinationals like Motorola and GE. Their fame has spread world-wide, so much so, that Prince Charles of England insisted on meeting them during his visit to the city in 2003. Today there are about 5,000 Dabbawallas in Bombay.
. The present day Mazagaon (“maza” meaning “my” and “gaon” meaning “native place” in Goanese language) especially has a faded charm of it for it was originally a Portuguese settlement. The mangoes from trees in Mazagaon, fruiting twice a year, were so famous during those days that they are said to have been transported to Delhi to be served on the table of Mogul Emperor Shah Jehan. Most of the historic mansions of Mazagaon are now gone, save for the house of the successful Jewish merchant/banker and philanthropist Sir David Sassoon, named "Sans Souci". This house still exists as the main building of the Masina Hospital. Nearby, the Victoria Gardens Zoo was laid out in 1861. It now houses a museum where some of the relics from Bombay's past, including many statues of British monarchs and dignitaries which used to once grace the streets of Bombay, can be seen.
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Bombay boats of two most prominent synagogues: The Magen Hassidim Synagogue in Agripada (1904), and the Magen David Sassoon Synagogue at Byculla, each belonging to two distinct Jewish communities that played a key role in Bombay’s development. The Baghdadi Jews visited Bombay as traders from the 1750s onwards and are considered the newer entrants to the city. Some of them eventually settled down in Bombay and Poona, among them Sir David Sassoon. In fact, Sir David came to Bombay in 1832 with his family fleeing from the retributions of the Wali of Baghdad. Another smaller synagogue, the Shaar Harahamin, is located in Samuel Street at Masjid Bunder. This place of worship dates from 1796. It was built by one Samuel Ezekiel Divekar, a member of the Bene Israel Jewish community who are descendents of the original 14 Jews that survived a shipwreck on the Konkan coast over 1000 years ago. During the Anglo-Mysore wars Divekar, fighting for the British, was captured by Tipu Sultan, the Tiger of Mysore. However, he was pardoned and built the synagogue in gratitude to God.
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Near the southern end of Byculla Road Bridge is the statue of a Parsi standing tall and upright. The statue is therefore also called “Khada Parsi” by the locals. It is the statue of Khurshedji Maneckji Shroff, a favorite catering contractor for the British. The statue was installed by his son Maneckji in 1867, who continued the catering business. Rajas and Maharajas were also among his clients. He was twice elected Sheriff of Bombay. He was a great champion of girls’ education and opened a school in his spacious bungalow at Byculla in 1860. But three years later he shifted the school to the Fort area and named it Alexandra Native Girls’ English Institution, which much later became the Alexandra Girls’s High School. Maneckji died at the age of 80 years in 1887. The statue still stands though dwarfed by recently built flyovers.
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Early nineteenth century Bombay could not have been proud of its roads. Even the so-called main roads were very narrow. Horse-owners would often use them for stabling the animals. The government woke up to the situation in 1806, and issued orders for the widening of the Parel Road and the Breach Candy Road to sixty feet. The Sheikh Memon Road and the Dongri Road were widened to forty feet. Twenty feet was laid down as the minimum width for the cross-streets. The city, as we know, has not yet done with the widening of its roads. In those days, once the night set in, the fort area would wear a deserted look. No horse-drawn carriages were seen on the road, and persons crossing the Esplanade, Oval or Azad maidans would be in danger of being attached by thieves and robbers.
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The city of Bombay underwent remarkable transformation during the 1860s. Wide modern roads were planned. By 1868 the roads from the Elphinstone Circle (now Horniman Circle) to Bazar Gate, and from there to Foras Road, had been completed. Apollo Street was widened. Bellasis Road, and the road linking Babula Tank with Elphinstone Bridge, were laid during these years. The population of certain parts of the city, like Dongri, Mazgaon, Girgaon, Byculla and Mahalaxmi, was increasing which necessitated new roads and the widening of the existing ones; the Girgaon Road, for example, was widened; and so were the roads in the Kamathipura area. Charni Road was extended to Falkland Road. Worli and Parel were linked by a road, named Fergusson Road. The Jacob Circle (named after the grandson of Sir David Sassoon) was laid; so was Sankhli Street. All these were macadamized roads. Tarred roads had not yet been heard of. The first steam-roller appeared on the city roads in 1869 and roads began to be tarred. They were phased out in favour of diesel-fueled rollers only in the 1950s, a period of almost 100 years!
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The city had its first residential gas-light in 1833. The credit for this rather romantic source for light goes to Seth Ardeshir Cursetjee Wadia, a Parsi master ship builder, who had installed a plant for producing coal gas at his residence. The Governor of Bombay, John FitzGibbon we are told, once visited Seth Cursetjee's place when it was lighted up with gas lamps and was so impressed by it that in 1834 gas street lighting was proposed for all of Bombay. However, it was not before the proposal was discussed threadbare for ten years that Bombay's streets had lights for the first time. These were originally installed as kerosene lamps in 1843. In the meantime, another Parsi sethia, Framji Cawasji Banaji had gas-lights intalled at his residence at Mazagaon in 1842. Crowsa of people used to throng to the two Parsi residences to check out the “novel lights”.
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The first gas lamps appeared on Bombay's roads in October 1865. Bhendi Bazar, Esplanade Road (now Mahatma Gandhi Road) and Churchgate Street (now Veer Nariman Road) were the first roads chosen to be lit up. Later the Queen's necklace on the Marine Drive was also lit up with gas lamps (this author had himself seen the Marine Drive gas lights, affectionately called the Queen’s Necklace, in the 1950s from Hanging Gardens). A gas lamp-lighter, employed by the municipality, would run along the streets from one side to the next. He carried a long pole with a hook at the end. He would use the hook to bring a tiny perpetual gas flame in contact with the asbestos gauze which would eventually light up with brilliance. It generated quite an excitement for the Bombayites. During the first few weeks crowds of people would follow the lamp-lighter; they would watch him do it with almost a sense of wonder. Towards the early morning the lamp-lighter would return to extinguish the lights. Coal and wood fires for cooking gave way to piped gas supplied by the Bombay Gas Company with its head offices on Hornby Road and the gas works at Lal Baugh. Once a month or so the Gas Company employees would come to eject the water build-up in the underground gas pipes by means of a hand pump. This was a brownish colored foul smelling liquid. The Gas Company halted its operations in the 1960s due to air pollution problems it generated in the Parel-Lal Baugh area.
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The Zoroastrian Towers of Silence on Malabar Hill were built by Seth Modi Hirji Vachha in 1672 with a land grant from the British on a 999-year lease through the good offices of the Governor, Gerald Aungier (1669-1677). Aungier passed away only five years later in 1677. The Zoroastrians believe in venerating the earth, fire, and water and hence they prefer to expose their dead to the sun and flesh-eating birds (vultures) within the confines of the Towers of Silence. The first fire-temple was also built in the same year by Seth Vachha opposite his residence at Modikhana within the British Fort. Both of these structures can still be seen today although they have been expanded and strengthened. For example, Seth Framji Cawasji Banaji constructed a Tower of Silence on Malabar Hill that was consecrated on 3rd may 1832 by Parsi Dastur Rustomji Kaikobad Mullaferoze before a large gathering. Subsequently Seth Framji also constructed the Banaji Fire-temple at Charni Road which was inaugurated on 13th December 1845 by Dastur Jamshedji Edalji Jamaspasana.
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The inroads of the sea at Worli, Mahim, and Mahalaxmi turned the ground between the islands into swamps making Bombay an extremely unhealthy place at that time due to prevalence of Malaria. Many commuters going to the Fort by boat between islands lost their lives when there was a storm during the monsoon season. During the next 40 years much was done to improve matters. Reclamation work to stop the breeches at Mahalaxmi and Worli were undertaken. The work on the Hornby Vellard began in 1708 during the Governorship of Mr. William Hornby (1771 to 1784). The directors of the East India Co. objected to the expense of its construction, but Hornby did not give orders to stop the work and it was completed in 1784. In 1803 Bombay was connected with Salsette by a causeway at Sion (1803). The island of Colaba was joined to Bombay in 1838 by a causeway now called Colaba Causeway.
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The Mahalaxmi temple is dedicated to Mahalaxmi, Lord Vishnu's consort. Built around 1785, the history of this temple is supposedly connected with the building of the Hornby Vellard. Apparently after portions of the sea-wall of the Vellard collapsed twice during construction, the chief engineer, a Pathare Prabhu, dreamt of a Lakshmi statue in the sea near Worli. Legend has it that a search of the sea nearby by local fishermen recovered the statue and he built a temple for it. After this, the work on the Vellard was completed without a hitch.
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Before the railway was built, crossing the Mahim Creek to go to the industrial town of Bombay was by ferry sail boats. After many boats capsized during the monsoon storms with loss of goods and human life, work on a Causeway, designed by Lt. Crawford, began in 1842 connecting Mahim and Bandra with funds donated exclusively by Lady Avabai Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy, wife of the first baronet Sir Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy, with a stipulation that no toll would be charged to citizens for its use by the government. Initially the cost was estimated at Rs. 100,000 but as the work commenced in 1842 the cost escalated. When the initial sum was exhausted and work about to stop Lady Jeejeebhoy once again dipped into her personal purse and made a second donation to the treasury of Rs.57,000 and the causeway was opened to the public in 1845. The total cost was Rs. 1,55,800, a handsome amount of money in those days.
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Sir Robert Grant (1779-1838) governed Bombay from 1835 to 1838 and was responsible for the construction of a number of roads between Bombay and the hinterland. The Thana and Colaba Causeways were built during his tenure as well as the Grant Medical College attached to the Sir Jamshedji Jeejeebhoy (aka Sir J.J.) Group of hospitals. The Grant Road railway station is also named after him.
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Sir Jehangir B. Boman-Behram was last President and first Mayor of Bombay Municipal Corporation. (1931-32) It was during his presidentship that the President of the Corporation was designated as Mayor, on 22nd October 1931. Born in July 1868 in Bombay, the young Boman-Behram graduated in Arts in 1890. Thereafter he obtained the degree of L.L.B. and practiced as an Attorney for two decades and became a partner of a Solicitors Firm for 5 years. Then he gave up his profession to do public service. He was elected to the Corporation On 1st April 1919 from 'A' Ward. He was the Chairman of the Standing Committee during 1928-29, and also of the then Schools Committee for the year 1928-29. He was also a member of City Improvements Committee, Election Committee and Law Revenue and General Purposes Committee for some time. Sir Boman Behram represented the Corporation while he was a Councillor, on various outside Institutions for a number of years. He rendered valuable services especially during communal disturbances in the City. Sir J. B. Boman-Behram was primarily instrumental in forming citizens' Conciliatory Committee and the Welfare of India League. It was due to his efforts that the hospitals in the city received financial aid from the H.O.H. fete organized in 1934. He died on 29th December 1919.
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In 1813 there were 10,801 persons living in the Fort, 5,464 or nearly 50%, of them Parsis. By 1864 the ramparts of the Fort were completely dismantled to free much land for building development. With the growth of the city more people moved from the Fort to such suburbs as Byculla, Parel, Malabar Hill, and Mazagaon. The first club, the Sans Souci Club, was formed in 1765 but had no permanent premises and used to meet at the Duncan Cameron Tavern in the fort. The first permanent club was formed at Byculla in 1833. European sports clubs for cricket and other games came in to existence early in the 19th Century. The Bombay Gymkhana, at the southern end of Azad Maidan, was formed in 1875 bringing together several smaller clubs, and the Yatch Club assumed an aspect of permanence in 1880 at Apollo Bunder. Both clubs were exclusively for Europeans. Other communities followed this example, and various Catholic, Parsi, Muslim, and Hindu gymkhanas were started on nearby Kennedy Sea Face along Marine Drive, with fierce sports competitions among them being organized on a communal basis. Some of these Gymkhanas can still be seen on Marine Drive between the Taraporewala Aquarium and the Princess Street flyover. The Japanese Gymkhana on Wodehouse Road next to the Cooperage became the Wodehouse Gymkhana. However, in order to encourage more social intercourse between the Europeans and Indians, the Orient Club was started in 1900. Subsequently the Willingdon Club was opened in 1917, with backing by the Viceroy of India, Lord Willingdon, who, as Governor of Bombay (1913-1918), did his best to bring Englishmen and Indians closer together socially and to establish a better understanding of each other’s customs among them.
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The Pentangular cricket tournament had its origins in an annual match played between the Europeans of the Bombay Gymkhana and the Parsis of the Zoroastrian Cricket Club. The first such game was played in 1877 when the Bombay Gymkhana accepted a challenge for a two-day match from the Parsis. The game was played in good spirits, with the Parsis surprising the Europeans by taking a first innings lead. The Europeans recovered, but the match was drawn with the sides evenly poised. From 1879-1883, the Parsis and Hindus of Bombay were locked in a struggle against the governing Europeans over the use of the playing fields known as the Bombay Maidan. Gymkhana members would play polo on the field, rendering much of it useless for cricket because of the large divots left by the horses, while sparing their own European-only cricket ground. With this dispute settled in favour of the natives, the Europeans versus Parsis matches resumed in 1884. The 1889 match was highly memorable as a thrilling victory for the Parsis! With the Gymkhana set a low target of 53 runs in the final innings, the Parsi captain M.E. Pavri bowled so well that the Europeans were dismissed for 50, just 3 runs short of victory. By 1900, the Presidency Match - as the Europeans versus Parsis game had come to be called - was the highlight of the Bombay cricket season. In the 19 matches to this year, the teams had won eight each and drawn three. However, by 1946 with the independence of India imminent, several secular-minded persons such as the late A.F.S. Talyarkhan opposed sports competition on communal or race basis, especially cricket matches, which came to an end after independence from Britain in 1947.
.Lord Harris served as Governor of the Presidency of Bombay 1890 to 1894. His appointment was not universally well regarded, with one anonymous writer penning a poem expressing the hope that Bombay would not suffer too greatly from Harris' political inexperience. His governorship was notable mainly for his enthusiastic pursuit of the sport of cricket amongst his fellow Europeans in the colony, at the expense of connecting with the native population. When the interracial Bombay riots of 1893 broke out, Harris was out of the city at Ganeshkind (near Poona) enjoying cricket matches. He returned to Bombay only on the ninth day of rioting, and then primarily to attend a cricket match there. Many later writers credited Harris with almost single-handedly introducing and developing the sport of cricket. The Harris Shield cricket tournament is his legacy and still played among the schools of Bombay. The game was, however, well established among the natives before his arrival. Furthermore, in 1890, he rejected a petition signed by over 1,000 locals to relocate European polo players to another ground so that the locals could use the area for cricket matches. It was only in 1892 that he granted a parcel of land to the newly formed Mahomedan Gymkhana for a cricket field, adjacent to land already used by the Parsi Gymkhana. When Harris left India, a publisher circulated a collection of newspaper extracts from his time as governor. The introduction stated: “Never during the last hundred years has a Governor of Bombay been so sternly criticized and never has he met with such widespread unpopularity on account of his administration as Lord Harris.”
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