Tales from a Wayside Station


SONEGAON, KANHAN, KHAPRI, Dongargaon, Kamptee... ask any old timer and he will tell you that these were once tiny settlements dotting the city of Nagpur, small villages where lived humble village folk who lived unpretentious lives and earned their bread by the sweat of their brow.

    These were simple folk who pursued simple village trades. Thus there was the village barber and the blacksmith; there was the carpenter and the electrician, the plumber and the local school master. There was the village tailor busy on his treadle machine making garments for children and grown-ups alike. And needless to say, you had the odd grocer with his tiny shop who stocked up provisions and daily essentials needed by all and sundry who lived in the village.

    There were others who tilled their land under the sun, who were sons of the soil. These men and their wives tended to their fields and grew their vegetables, their corn and their wheat and their fruit. Their produce was sold in colorful weekly village bazars welcomed by one and all. 

    A few of these men were more adventuresome, they would travel all the way to the city to sell their produce: their freshly picked brinjals and tomatoes, capsicums and cucumbers, onions and coriander. A trip to the city was a welcome change for the villageman: it afforded him relief from the monotony of village life, and besides he knew his produce could fetch a higher price in the city.

    Amongst this varied crowd that you saw in the village, a few like old Mr Kale who lived in Khapri, were lucky enough to find work in government offices and business establishments in the city. Some even found work in cloth mills and industrial units such as the once famous Empress Mills of Nagpur. These men were looked up with awe and respect; they apparently seemed to possess a certain dignity that others were seen to be lacking in. They came to be considered as the elite of the village. 

    The elite folks then had to shuttle each day between home and place of work. If the village was close enough to the city, the men used bicycles for transport. It was both cheap and convenient. This was precisely what Mr Kale did who worked all his life as a sorter in a post office in the city of Nagpur. Old Mr Kale rode on his bicycle each day to town to attend to his job at the post office. There was a train that would bring him to the city in the mornings, but Mr Kale would have nothing to do with it, he would rather prefer his crumbling old bike. He was a calm sort of man given to a good deal of contemplation, and in his wisdom he knew his bike could be trusted to get him to office on time; the train from Bhusaval could not, for it was often late by several hours.

    What kind of a train was it that Kale and others like him sought to avoid at all costs? It could not have been an express, for no express would care to halt at a small village halt. It was a legendary train in many respects, legendary not on account of its speed or timeliness, but by virtue of its spanning two cities nearly four hundred kilometers apart --  the longest run a Passenger train had ever been called upon to perform. It also owed its fame to yet another facet of its operation, which was the choice of locomotive that was assigned to it: old timers recall with great nostalgia the Bhusaval Passenger steaming out of Nagpur under charge of a bullet nose steam loco, the most attractive locomotive that ran on the metals of those days.

    It is as well to remember that there were in actual fact two passenger trains originating from Nagpur, both bound southwards on the broad gauge line back in the seventies. There was the Bhusaval Passenger we have just seen, run by the Central Railway. The other was the Kazipet Passenger. One started in the morning, the other in the evening; both followed the same route till they reached Sewagram. Now discontinued from service, these were long distance passenger trains, both safe and inexpensive, but were often subject to long delays at roadside stations along the way. Barring this disadvantage, they were fine trains with plenty of accommodation. If you were in the mood for a train ride, nothing could be better than to pack up a lunch case and buy a ticket for a station nearby, preparing yourself to make the return trip by bus. 

    One of the last trains in the Nagpur area to be powered by steam, the Bhusaval Passenger was often late both in arrival as well as departure. This fine train was a pleasure to ride, it handled points and turnouts with incredible smoothness and ease; there was never a sense of haste as it traversed the landscape; and it courteously called on each wayside station as it merrily chugged along. It was truly a vintage train; a rail enthusiast's delight. 

    Leaving Nagpur behind, the very first stop was at Ajni, where there was a large wagon interchange point, then on to Khapri, where an LPG gas bottling plant had come up, and where Kale had his home in the rural setting of the village. Beyond Khapri, the line would lead on to Dongargaon, barely six kilometers away, another rural station serving a village. But the station in Dongargaon was strangely named Gumgaon. What might be the reason for this discrepancy in nomenclature, I cannot say, but here stood the little station with a tiled gabled roof amidst a desolate low level platform. Gumgaon was the archetypal village station: it was prettiness personified.

    Khapri was no less picturesque. It too had an eye catching liitle station. It had a lovely pitched roof with tiles, and was elegant in style. It was simple and functional in architecture. 

    Then came along the twenty first century bringing with it burgeoning trade and commerce, a mass application of the computer to nearly every sphere of life, an increase in living standards, ever increasing educational opportunities, and vastly increased travel. The old stations in Khapri and Gumgaon could not keep pace with these new innovations. A Metro had meanwhile come up in Nagpur, the line going all the way upto Khapri. The old station here was then pulled down, new platforms built, and the yard remodelled to accommodate extra goods lines originating from the newly set up Container Corporation nearby. 

    Khapri is no longer the quiet little hamlet it once was, but is a growing township, the home to corporate giants like Infosys, the Container Corporation, Amazon, and the All India Institute of Medical Sciences. In nearby areas such as Gumgaon and Jamtha, we see similar developments in the form of engineering and nursing colleges, open air family restaurants with spacious lawns, and a world class sports stadium built by the Vidarbha Cricket Association.

    One of my bitter regrets in life centers around the railway in Khapri. This pretty little station disappeared from view ere I could ever train a camera on it. That it would be razed to the ground without a thought for its heritage value, I had never once imagined. I had been presumtuous, thinking Khapri would live on forever, little realising that the arrival of the Container Corporation next door signalled the end of the old order and the beginning of a new one.

    But all was not lost. Seeing that Khapri had passed into history, I set my sights on the next station a few miles down the line, making the happy discovery that the station there still stood as it must have done a century ago. Gumgaon station still remains, getting on in years, like a cask of old wine that gets better the older it gets. Its tiled roof has been replaced with tin, but it is still pleasing to look at. One of the last remnants of the steam age on this line, there's no saying when this too might be demolished, for a modern Station Master's office built of concrete and buzzing with computers and telephones is already in operation a few meters away. The old station's days are clearly numbered.



    Like Khapri, Gumgaon station hardly sees any passengers, for road transport has been developed to the point where it is both fast and efficient. You step into the station and find not a soul in sight, the platform solitary and deserted as far as the eye can see. The MEMU bound for Wardha calls here in the morning, the occasional passenger climbs aboard, and in a matter of seconds, the train honks and begins to move out. Thereafter for the remainder of the day, the station stands in solitude and silence.

    How long will the old station of Gumgaon stand only time can tell. The Station Master's office which once resounded to the sound of bells on the train instrument, is now bare, and is used by trackmen dressed in orange shirts to rest awhile when they get a respite from their arduous duties out under the blazing sun. At the entrance is a heap of scrap metal, old rails and pieces of equipment now obsolete. The ticket booking window still remains, the wooden gate leading to the platform still swings open as it did in the days of old.

    I found rusty old iron benches along the rail platform of Gumgaon. Then there are, at intervals, small canopies with pretty red concrete benches under their shade where travellers could rest awhile. It looks so pathetic, such a sad irony : these colorful platform canopies... all to what purpose? There's hardly ever a passenger in sight at the station, not even for the MEMU. And yet the rustic seats remain, as though in anticipation for a tired traveller to come along and take his seat.

    I seated myself on a bench in the warmth of the winter sun and proceeded to unpack my lunch box. Express trains rumbled by at full speed, screaming as they passed, drivers holding out fluttering green flags as they rushed by in haste. When the train had passed and the din had died, it was all quiet again. I could hear only the chirp of the birds, or the quiet tinkling of a bell showing a cow was grazing nearby beyond the hedge. 


    Gumgaon station puts me in the mood for philosophical contemplation. These metals here have served their purpose here for over a century, the station name board stands in the far distance unyielding, in fading colors against the pale blue sky. But what is this I hear -- did I hear someone strike two beats on the station gong? Who knows, someone did really strike the gong, and I must investigate. I rose, had a sip of water from my bottle, and strolled up to where the old station stood. To my great astonishment, the station is all abuzz with life, the Station Master and his men busy at work. The equipment in the office itself is minimal, I notice: a control telephone, double line block instruments, various train record registers, hand lamps, flags, a supply of kerosene, and other railway bric-a-brac. 

    Walking over to the waiting hall, I find a small group of rural folk standing in queue at the ticket window leisurely buying their tickets. Clunk-thud goes the ticket machine, as the booking clerk stamps his tickets, then the usual jangle of coins. The village folk slowly make their way to the platform where they assemble in groups, waiting for the morning train bound for Bhusaval. This train will take them on to Butibori, to Tuljapur or maybe Borkheri, to distant Sewagram and even beyond. It is late, I am told, but these people will wait on for their appointment with their beloved train. The semaphore pointing downward tells me that it is due.

    A long scream of an air horn followed by the rattle of carriages aroused me from my blissful reverie. I glanced around and found no one was in sight; the platform was bare and solitary. I rose from my bench and slowly made my way to the old station. It was locked, the booking window thickly covered with dust, the passenger waiting hall showing no signs of use. The station gong still hung in place. No one had struck it for years.

    I stood for a while contemplating. Set amidst trees and overgrown shrubs, this station would last for an eternity if no one touched it. It would last an eternity in solitude and deep silence, whispering tales from its distant past.

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Ravindra Bhalerao

The Invincible Railway Traffic Official

 

Between the Lines: A Railman's Journey, by Annavarapu Ramarao; Notion Press, 2022; pages 540, Rs 575.

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THERE WAS BUT A NARROW strip of roadway that led out eastward from the town of Kamptee leading on to the small village of Kanhan that lay beyond the river. The roadway, which was never too busy a hundred years ago, passed through the cantonment of Kamptee, running beside the railway line to Bilaspur, before passing over the mighty bridge that spanned the river Kanhan. This road bridge, running alongside a parallel rail bridge and built of several sandstone arches still stands, although now lying forlorn and abandoned on account of its advancing age. Its decorative iron railings are still in place, carrying underneath its sweeping arches the quiet waters of the meandering Kanhan.

     On this bridge could be seen many years ago a simple young lad, about ten years of age, satchel in hand, trudging back home on weekends with his siblings and friends after attending the Hindi primary school in the nearby town of Kamptee. The walk along the solitary roadway was a leisurely exercise and always great fun; the boys laughed, treating themselves to tidbits. A little way down the line they halted, and hurled stones at fruit trees, picking up guavas that dropped to the ground. 

     The young lad whose fortunes seem to us worthy to record here belonged in fact to a family of railwaymen. His father served as Station Master of Kanhan Junction, a station on the Bengal Nagpur Railway; and what is even more remarkable, his grandfather too had served on the railway at one time in the distant past.

     And so the boy with the satchel walked on under the sun, his gaze darting hither and thither, thinking of his games and laughing with friends, lost in a world of his own. Who would have ever imagined in his wildest dreams that the lad, frolicking with his friends on his way home would go on to hold the office of Chief Operating Superintendent on the railways one day!



     The book under consideration here is an autobiographical account of an Indian Railway Traffic Service Officer, beginning with young Ramarao's boyhood days spent in railway quarters in Kanhan in the late nineteen thirties and early nineteen forties. Within its pages is woven a narrative that sets forth events of the author's days beginning with home life, education, and his selection for railway service, and going on to describe in considerable detail his subsequent career as a senior Officer of the Indian Railway Traffic Service. 

     Growing up in railway quarters in Kanhan in the forties, Shri Ramarao tells us that railway families in small towns often reared cows for milk, and he fondly remembers the time when he and his brothers played with toy trains the boys had made themselves using matchboxes and torch batteries. His tryst with the primary school in Kamptee soon over, the lad was sent to Nagpur, a bare twenty kilometers away, to attend high school, to be followed by college education. There were trials and privations to be endured along the way, but with understanding and supportive parents the boy emerged victorious in a few years time, armed with a master's degree in Chemistry. 

     The young man now stood at the crossroads of life. His very first assignment would take him to Jabalpur where he found work as a college lecturer in Chemistry. Fortune favours the brave and the ambitious it is said, and young Ramarao possessed both these attributes in no small measure. The turning point in his career would come when he appeared for the Central Services examination in 1956. The outcome of this bold move was far from certain. If he succeeded, it would propel the young man on towards a bright and promising career. Would he succeed in clearing the much dreaded UPSC examination?

     Annavarapu Ramarao did perform well, both in the written test as well as the interview that followed. A year later there came a letter through the post. It was an appointment order asking him to report to the Eastern Railway headquarters in Calcutta. Ramarao had been appointed to the Superior Revenue Establishment of the Traffic (Transportation) and Commercial Establishments of the Indian Railways, the forerunner of the Indian Railway Traffic Service, and to begin with, would serve as a probationary officer on the establishment.

     Much like a train that begins to pick up speed soon after it has cleared the yard, the book really begins to take off from here. We now begin to see how a trainee officer in the railways learned his trade from scratch. Other than familiarising himself with the General Rules, the new entrant had to learn basic train operations from goods clerks, station masters, yard masters, guards and others. Trainees were made to work as goods train guards, even travelling on locomotives of coal pilots that shuttled between the yard and the several collieries situated in the coal belt of eastern India. They were required to keep meticulous notes of the yards and signal cabins they visited, their progress being carefully monitored by senior officials assigned with the task of supervision.    

     The author's first posting was as Assistant Commercial Superintendent holding charge over Howrah station and Parcel sheds. It was an imposing responsibility and one of the first things he would discover on his arrival here was that there was a great deal he had yet to learn. And yet, learn he must, if he would succeed. He ploughed on steadily, growing in stature whilst at the same time establishing a reputation for himself as a sincere and honest official. In the meantime, he would also go on to make new friends, get to know trade union leaders, and familiarise himself with the system as a whole.

     As the reader can well imagine, the scope of activities at Howrah station was tremendous, and the organisation itself, a vast one. Reading this account one can almost sense the frenzied rush on Howrah station, the ceaseless flurry of activity at the goods sheds, and the surging, restless crowds that characterised the working of this busy terminal on Eastern Railway.

     The early chapters of the book are going to find great favour with steam locomotive enthusiasts, for Shri Ramarao's assignments would lead him to spend a great many years in the coal belt of eastern India. 

     His first job here would take him to Asansol on the post of Divisional Operating Superintendent (Goods). Here in the very heart of the coal mining industry, we are told that as many as two thousand wagons loaded with coal would originate each day. There were over 300 sidings on the division serving mostly underground mines. Empty wagons drawn out from major yards in the division would make their way to these sidings each day, hauled by steam locomotives. The coal pilots, as they were known, were loaded with coal at the sidings and would return to the yard for onward despatch of coal. As may be expected, the air was thick with coal dust, and although electrification was in progress, steam locomotives were still very much in operation.

     Following a serious train collision at Dumraon station in the early sixties, safety had become a matter of paramount importance. We may savor the pleasure of accompanying Shri Ramarao as he travelled on motor trolleys carrying out station inspections wirhin his jurisdiction to assess if station staff were conversant with safety procedures and rules. He would also go on to inspect yards and sidings, looking for possible causes leading to shunting accidents. 

     Asansol West Yard in particular was the site of frequent derailments and would afford the young railwayman his first opportunity to put his investigative skills to use. He turned his attention to study the problem closely and soon made the discovery that the prime cause for these mishaps occurring on the 'king point' of the yard lay in the poor visibility of the summit of the hump from the yard cabin that mechanically operated the points. It had been a recurrent problem for years. Shri Ramarao had the system altered by having locally operated points installed close enough to the offending point, thereby eradicating the trouble altogether. 

     As a traffic officer Shri Ramarao would show himself to be a great innovator, his analytical mind teeming with new and unconventional ideas. He possessed the uncanny knack of devising ingenious solutions to problems which often presented themselves as insurmountable barriers in the area of railway operation in those times.

     He recollects his days when posted as Divisional Operating Superintendent of Eastern Railway, Howrah, when an opportunity presented itself where he tried out a new innovation he had devised to speed up the clearance of parcels on the station. Being the busiest terminal on Eastern Railway, Howrah had to deal with a large number of trains each day. Unloading parcel vans and handling deliveries was proving to be an ordeal, with the whole process taking place amidst the mayhem resulting from passengers having to pick their way through heaps of packets strewn all around the platform. Given these conditions, dealing with parcel vans was necessarily a time consuming affair resulting in considerable detention to trains arriving at the station. This in turn often led to perishable products like fish and vegetables going bad, besides causing detention at signals to incoming trains for want of platform space.

     It must be understood that this was a perennial trouble at Howrah station in those days, and operating officials were in despair, there being no clear way out of the trouble in sight. But this time Shri Ramarao held charge, and he was not one to easily accept defeat. In consultation with his colleagues, he instructed the Chief Yard Master of the coaching yard to shunt out each arriving passenger train within minutes of its arrival without touching the parcel vans, uncouple the train in the yard, and hustle away parcel vans to the parcel shed platform where goods could be handled without hindrance of any kind. 

     The method was first applied to the Doon Express and later extended to other trains. It was an unconventional procedure by all accounts, but proved to be a great success winning the appreciation of Railway Board officials besides freeing the main platforms of Howrah of the persistent problems of congestion and filth.

     There were numerous other instances, no less demanding, where Shri Ramarao would be called upon to bring his superior abilities and judgment to bear upon situations of a serious nature which had baffled rail transport officials all along and which apparently didn't admit of a solution.

     The book dwells at great length on the subject of Mughalsarai, home to India's famed marshalling yard, and we may take a fascinating tour of the yard and study its evolution and working.

     Towards the 1960s new kind of goods wagons, called BOX wagons had begun to make an appearance on the railways. These were fitted with four-wheeled bogies and modern coupling arrangements designed to withstand larger stresses. The new centre buffer couplers (CBC), as they were known, were a great improvement on the screw couplings found on older four wheeled wagons, but with this advantage came the drawback of having two different kinds of wagons to deal with in the goods yard. Steel devices, known as transition couplers were designed for joining wagons fitted with CBCs to screw coupling wagons.

     Wagons fitted with CBCs proliferated in the 1970s, with the  introduction of covered eight-wheelers (BCX) and covered four-wheelers (CRT), and their incompatibility with screw coupling stock led to serious congestion in railway marshalling yards across the country. Transition Couplers were in short supply because they were prone to theft.

     Shri Ramarao, posted at the time in Mughalsarai as Joint Director, Rail Movement could see the source of the trouble and put forward the idea of collecting CBC wagons on a separate line in the sorting yard, and thereafter re-sorting them into groups according to destination, but his proposals were turned down by Eastern Railway officers.

     Shri Ramarao had also identified another pressing issue, namely, a huge wastage of both time and engine power resulting from changing electric and diesel locomotive of all trains at Mughalsarai, this being an interchange point between Eastern and Northern Railways. His attempts to convince higher officials to change the system was treated with indifference. The intrinsic value of his ideas could only be gauged by a man of the genius of the legendary M S Gujral, who was then posted as Director General (Transportation) in the Railway Board. Taking the cue from Shri Ramarao, Gujral introduced two path breaking innovations, namely, the running of CBC fitted covered wagons in full train loads named Jumbo rakes, and secondly, the abolition of locomotive changes to some trains at Mughalsarai. These innovations became the starting point for Gujral to extend these ideas on an all India basis when he took over as Chairman of the Railway Board a couple of years later.

     The new system, when put into practice, led to a phenomenal improvement in the performance of goods yards at a time when Indian Railways had sunk to an abysmally low level of performance, and forms in large part the basis of goods train operation to be found on the railways today. 


Annavarapu Ramarao as Divisional
Railway Manager of Lucknow Division
of North Eastern Railway in 1982


     As a railway traffic official Shri Ramarao was unexcelled in performance. He possessed a profound understanding of the railway yards under his charge, and when faced with challenging situations he was ever prepared to abandon coventional wisdom and adopt new contrivances if they offered the promise of better returns.

     But other than delighting us with tales of his exploits in the field, Shri Ramarao also gives the reader enough historical context to give him the feel of the times, thus conveying a vivid portrayal of the work culture and social milieu to be found on the railways of the time with particular reference to the eastern zone. 

     Relations between senior railway managers and subordinates were often characterised by an overbearing 'rule of the master' attitude in the early days, a legacy undoubtedly inherited from colonial times. The author having had a first hand experience in this regard while serving as a probationary officer himself, vowed never to achieve subordination amongst his juniors employing such demeaning conduct when the occasion arose.

     The reader will come upon a delightful account here describing how different cadres in the railway organisation arose : the traffic and transportation department, the engineering wing, the Special Class Railway Apprentice 'Gymmy boys' of Jamalpur, as well as other services. Feelings of superiority amongst staff were bound to arise, as they do in any organisation, leading to barriers that impeded the growth of healthy interpersonal relationships between staff belonging to different cadres of the railways. 

     We also have a picture here of civil disturbances, industrial unrest, gheraos of railway officials, workers grievances and trade unions in the railways. The protests periodically launched by workers unions could seriously disrupt rail services leading to significant repercussions elsewhere. 

     We read of a time when a flash strike was launched by railway staff in Dhanbad in the sixties bringing train operations to a dead standstill. Taking along a few trusted Traffic Inspectors with him, Shri Ramarao rushed to Kusunda where the men took over the despatch of coal trains, coupling wagons and setting points and signals all by themselves. Being a successful traffic officer on Eastern Railway clearly called for both presence of mind and a wide range of skills. 

     During the span of his career, the author had twice been on deputation to the Fertilizer Corporation of India to serve as a Traffic Manager. In his later days he would be called upon to visit Ghana as a member of a RITES team sent to infuse new life into an inefficient and shabbily run railway system. Its economy in a shambles, Ghana was served by a narrow gauge railway that seemed to be on the brink of collapse with poorly maintained engines and rolling stock, unremunerative operating practices and the absence of telephonic links. The team got to grips with the battered railway and improvements soon began to follow. A major concern was the consistent derailing of trains, and on close examination this was traced to improper choice of gauge of locomotive wheels during manufacture. Henschel of Germany, who had manufactured these locos, were called in and following negotiations, agreed to replace the wheel tyres free of cost.

     Shri Annavarapu Ramarao had a chequered career, serving four terms as Divisional Railway Manager in the Eastern and North Eastern Railway zones, besides holding top ranking operating positions all throughout his career. 

     His final assignment was as Chief Operating Superintendent of Eastern Railway, Kolkata, an office that was shortly afterwards renamed as Chief Operations Manager. He had begun his career with Eastern Railway, and it was fitting that he should end his career at the place where he had begun. He cast his gaze over the station he had known for so long. It had been through a major refurbishment under Shri Ramarao's own direction some years ago during his tenure as Divisional Railway Manager here. The facelift given to Howrah station had included both cosmetic changes as well as vastly improved passenger amenities, resulting in a monumental transformation that had drawn effusive words of praise from all quarters. Now with only a few more years to go, Shri Ramarao could look upon the edifice of the station with a sense of pride and satisfaction. This would be his last significant contribution towards the functioning and betterment of this great railway he had devoted his life to. 

     Between the Lines makes for intensely absorbing reading, holding a rich historical record within its pages. It lifts the veil giving a rare glimpse into the inside working of the operating and other related departments of the Indian Railways in the latter half of the twentieth century: that fascinating human machinery which planned out railway movements and worked out strategies, all with the single objective of bringing about expeditious, safe and economical transportation of men and materials on rails. 

     Unquestionably a work of great educational value, Shri Ramarao's narrative is also an action packed drama with exciting events unfolding before the reader's eye as he goes along. The student of railway history would do well to devote himself to a thoughtful study of this masterly work that issues from the desk of one who has been an ardent and highly skilled practitioner of the art of railway traffic management.

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Shri Annavarapu Ramarao (b. 1933) retired from the Indian Railway Traffic Service in 1991 as Chief Operating Superintendent of Eastern Railway, Kolkata. Other books on railway themes authored by him include Line Clear to India, Trailing Window: A Journey into Rail History, Nemesis: A Tale of the Emergency, and The Tiger of Bhanwar Nalla and Other Stories. Now settled in Bangalore, where he and his wife live with his younger son and family, Shri Ramarao spends most of his leisure in reading, writing, and watching cricket on television.

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Ravindra Bhalerao

The Narrow Gauge Rail Museum of Nagpur

 FOR MANY PEOPLE Motibagh is synonymous with the former South Eastern Railway's establishment here in Nagpur. Coming down from Kadbi Square you couldn't help being so much a part of the railway and its doings : there was the South Eastern Railway Health Centre, the Railway Institute, the workshop and the diesel loco sheds, the railway quarters and the stadium. Motibagh is set in railwayland ; it lies at the junction of a network of criss-crossing rail tracks some laid above the others, and not far from the ever present D-cabin that lies on the main line to Bilaspur and easily seen from the roadway. It can all be seen from the road itself -- even the steam loco shed of the South Eastern Railway. 

This was how things stood many years ago. Then came the move to do away with steam power and the old steam shed was left to itself, abandoned, forlorn and uncared for. When I had been to see the crumbling edifice a long time back there were no locos in sight, but I could see plaster peeling from the walls, and a list of engine types and numbers which went to make up the holding of the shed.

That was how the steam shed of Motibagh stood some two decades back. Today the building still stands but bears an altogether different look. The structure was renovated years ago, the yard was demolished and landscaped, a fountain was installed, trees and shrubs planted. This great centre of steam motive power never did vanish altogether ; it was made into a receptacle worthy to house relics belonging to the narrow gauge railway network of the Satpura Lines. The snore and heave and clang of steam have long since vanished ; today in its place we find a quiet public park with lawns and gravel pathways, soft music pouring from loudspeakers, and a modest collection of narrow gauge rolling stock and engines on display. This is the South East Central Railway's  Narrow Gauge Museum in Nagpur.

Notwithstanding the visitors' book which heaps lavish comments on the collection held by the museum, the true heritage enthusiast is going to be somewhat disappointed with the exhibits he finds here. And with good reason too, for no matter what one may say,  the heritage buff looks upon a rail museum as the repository of a variety of steam locomotives, and the Nagpur museum is lamentably poor in this respect. Besides a diesel hydraulic loco housed indoors you have two -- just two steam locos in possession of the museum. But this could perhaps be an intentional feature. Had a dozen or more steam locos been brought in for display, this would hardly have served to promote the place as an evening resort,  and the Nagpur museum brings in a greater part of its revenue  from families and groups who arrive to spend an evening in the amusement park. The railway is only of incidental interest here ; for the great majority of people who throng the place, the exhibits only serve as a bonus attraction, something that is viewed as a curiosity and nothing more.

Moving on then to more specific details, the principal indoor exhibit is a 0-6-4 Bagnall No. 5 narrow gauge tank engine built in 1916 by Bagnall Limited of England. Enthusiasts love this old tank and some, armed with cameras,  have even been seen to climb up on chairs to get a proper view of the Ramsbottom safety valve high up on the boiler.

Outdoors we find a 4-6-2 Class CC No. 677 built by the North British Locomotive Company of Glasgow in 1907, and this together with the Bagnall held indoors completes the steam loco collection of the museum. A few more steam locos would certainly have been an added attraction. ZEs were extensively used on the Satpura Lines and one of this kind reposes in the Motibagh workshop next door, while a Class BS 615 leads a solitary existence within the gates of the narrow gauge diesel shed not far away, both of which were eminently suited to occupy a place in the museum yard.

But let it not be supposed that the museum is entirely without charm on this account. The designers were indeed imaginative and if one will but step behind the CC 677 he will find a delightful water column erected at the precise spot for the locomotive to have its drink. There is beauty and innovation here amidst apparent frugality.

In the matter of rolling stock, however, the narrow gauge museum does exhibit a remarkable variety. Besides an oil tanker we may find here a steam crane of Italian make, a narrow gauge covered bogie wagon built by Pickering & Company of Glasgow in 1915, and of still older vintage, a 4-wheeler covered wagon of tare weight 5 tonnes built by the Bengal Nagpur Railway in 1904. Passenger carriages include a postal van and a first class carriage both dating back to 1958 and built at the Motibagh workshop itself, and a royal saloon once used by the Maharaja of Paralakimedi and manufactured by Orenstein & Koppel in 1899.

Ths enthusiast is going to be delighted with the tiny narrow gauge "yard" here complete with turnouts and a level crossing gate where these items of rolling stock are laid out on parallel tracks. Nearby loom trees and shrubs, an undulating landscape with a well laid out lawn, water taps -- this is the spot for picnickers and families. Indeed the goods brake van in the yard proves to be the ideal spot for lunch and some of the museum staff regularly retire to the convenience of the brake in the afternoons for this very purpose.

The most extensive range of railway paraphernalia may however be found only indoors at the Nagpur rail museum. The visitor who steps inside is confronted with a vast collection, and indeed, the very first impression we get is of a bewildering array of artefacts arranged in showcases in a set of galleries. The whole railway were, as it were, taken apart, even dissected into bits and pieces and laid out for all to see.

But even amidst the chaos that reigns here there is beauty for the beholder. Whilst steam engine details make very little sense to the uninitiated, there is this charming little blackened wick lamp from the house of A. C. Wells & Company that once gave its light when the boiler of an engine had to be inspected from within. Amongst builders plates we may come upon names such as "Stableford & Company Limited, Carriage and Wagon Builders, Leicester" and  "The Metropolitan Amalgamated Railway Carriage and Wagon Company Limited, Birmingham". For the collector of railway memorabilia, the indoor galleries provide an endless source of pleasure. There are surveying instruments used in bygone times and various kinds of mechanical signalling equipment including a pair of semaphore arms and a spectacle plate carrying red and green glasses ; we find vintage carriage electric lamps and fans ; and besides there is a vast collection of signalling lamps used for a variety of purposes all working on kerosene and so delightful to behold. The railways have certainly done a good job of salvaging precious old relics from the heap of rubble that lay accumulated as the old gave way to the new ; one can even find Edmondson ticket machines on display here, an entire ticket booking window salvaged from some old station, a pretty ticket tube, and telephone and telegraph equipment dating back to the days of steam.

It would take a whole booklet to catalogue the full collection held by the Narrow Gauge Rail Museum of Nagpur. We remarked at the outset that it is a rather unfortunate state of affairs that the museum has on display but two steam locomotives and no more. However, what a dozen or more idle steam engines on display could not bring about in the mind of the heritage enthusiast has been amply achieved by the exhibits on display indoors : the permanent way inspector's trolley, waiting room chairs, refreshment room chinaware, and vintage photographs -- these and a hundred other aretefacts serve to bring alive the quaint charm of India's steam age here as no assemblage of steam locomotives standing in a yard by itself could have done.

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

Ravindra Bhalerao

Bombarci : The Early Days

Dear Mr. Bhalerao,

In rummaging through a deceased uncle's trove of old photos, I came across a photograph of the "Bombarci", the BB&CI Rly Agent's bungalow that my great uncle supervised the construction of. The photograph is dated June 1926 and is annotated with the legend: From Sir Earnest and Lady Jackson to B. P.Oka, supervisor in charge of construction of Bombarci". Please note that the agent (General Manager, in those days) was Sir Ernest Jackson, who played a vital role in the formation of the BB&CI ( today's Western) Railway.

A copy of the photo is attached. Perhaps, not the best copy, the photo having been taken with a smartphone and then copied to a laptop, but it is the best I have.

I was wondering if you could shed some light on the building, its history and its present condition.

Thank you,

Warm regards,

Koustubh Oka