Dating : The Platform

The train’s engine blew its whistle as it chugged past the platform. The whistle was sharp and loud. It shook the platform, floor and walls. It shook the Station Master’s office too.

The Station Master was at his desk, scrolling through the day’s train roster from behind a pair of thick-framed reading glasses; he remained habitually indifferent to the train and the quaking it caused. The next local passenger service, he read, was due at seven o’clock. The clock above the office’s door showed a little after half-past-six.

He removed his glasses to look outside. Beyond his office windows, the platform was a long, lonely stretch of stone, cement and chequered tiles, all of which sat covered in a veil of brown dust. The cleaners hadn’t come in yet. He saw the thin, old tea seller at the only stall by the station entrance; the old man sat with his chin drowning into his palm.

As the Station Master put his glasses on, the doors to his office swung open. A boy of twelve hurried inside, taking the Station Master by surprise. The boy was dressed in an old, unwashed shirt, a pair of murky shorts and old, worn-out slippers. In his hand was a little iron crate with two glasses brimming with tea. “Good morning, SM sir,” the boy said, loud and spirited, and stood before the Station Master’s desk.

“Good morning,” the Station Master replied. “Why aren’t you at school today?”

“Vacations, SM sir. One full month.” The boy grinned, displaying all of his crooked, little teeth. “We start our cricket practice in some time. Grandfather told me to come help him until then.” He sat a cup of tea on the Station Master’s desk. “I’m the opening batsman for our team,” he added proudly. “I was the top scorer across the five villages last year.” He looked over to the other desk in the office and asked, “Has Engineer sir come?”

The chair at the Engineer’s desk sat neatly tucked under it. “Not yet.”

“Should I get you some breakfast, SM sir? There’s Idli and Upma,” he said and smiled. “Both are very nice. Very hot.”

The Station Master lowered his glasses and looked outside at the tea stall. The old man had not moved from his place. He noticed some biscuit packets in the boy’s crate. “The biscuits will do.”

The boy handed a pack to the Station Master. “Grandfather says one should start their day with a full belly.”

The Station Master looked at the boy. Had he grown skinnier? “This is enough for me.”

After the boy left, the Station Master put on his reading glasses, picked up the cup of tea and returned to the train roster. His eyes turned to the list of freight trains and interstate passengers that were to cross the station. He stopped there. The list filled him a pang of seasoned envy. He sipped on his tea.

These trains — the big ones; the ones that travelled across the country — never stopped at his station. Why would they? His was a small station. Not many knew of it. He wondered if the people travelling in these big trains even cared to read the name of his station. Would it matter? It’s not like they’d remember it. He sipped on his tea.

The clock said ten minutes to seven. Outside, on the platform, he saw no passengers. There were never any passengers on the platform. Only the tea stall, where the boy now stood with his grandfather, looking down a pair of desolate railway tracks, waiting. Just like the Station Master. He resumed working on the train roster.

An engine rushed past the station. It blew its horn thrice. The Station Master smiled. It was the Engineer. He put away the train roster and waited for the Engineer to show up.

“Early as ever, SM sir,” the Engineer said as soon as he walked into the office.

“Better early than late,” the Station Master replied and nodded towards the clock.

The Engineer was a tall, young man with dark skin and large eyes. His shirt was wrinkled and his trousers wore muck on the knees. The Station Master remembered a time when he had looked like him. When he was young. And sprightly. Maybe that was why he didn’t mind the Engineer’s tardiness.

“I won’t make any excuses, SM sir,” the Engineer said as he reached for the notebook on the Station Master’s desk that said ‘Attendance Register’ on the cover. “But my alarm didn’t ring this morning.”

“That is what one calls an excuse.”

“A cup of tea to let me off the hook?”

The Station Master raised the empty cup on his table. “A little late for that too.”

“The next round then.” He opened the page where the month’s attendance was being recorded. He put down a ‘P’ for the day against his name. “Your string of P’s is impressive, SM sir,” he said as he ran a finger along the page’s length. “When was the last time you took a vacation?”

“It has been a while.” His eyes turned towards a photograph on his desk.

The photograph stood in the middle of stacks of long notebooks and files, a white coffee mug that now worked as a pen-holder, a clipboard that held a copy of the train schedule and a tray of loose papers buried under a paper weight. The photograph was of two children. It stood in a silver-coloured frame. Both the photograph and its frame had faded with time.

The clock above the office doors started ringing — One…Two… Three… Four… Five… Six… Seven… The gongs were just as loud as an engine’s whistles.

“It’s time,” the Station Master said. He pushed off from his chair, picked up the clipboard on his desk and marched out of the office.

The platform stretched for a little under half a mile. Most of it shone golden in the sun. A couple hundred feet sat covered by a metallic roof. Four large-winged fans dangled from it. They were as listless as the platform.

The Station Master and the Engineer stood in the shade, waiting for the passenger train to pull up, watching the silhouettes that worked in the paddies beyond the train tracks. The boy from the tea stall gave the Engineer his tea.

“You’ve been here for a few years now,” the Engineer said, sipping his tea.

“A few,” the Station Master replied. His chin itched. He scratched it and felt the stubble on his scruff.

“I sometimes can’t wait for my tenure to be done here. Don’t you want to leave this place?”

“Where would you go?”

“To some big station. With multiple tracks and crossings and intersections. And engines!” He chuckled. “Oh, the many engines I saw in my training. They were all so fascinating.”

The Station Master looked at the two pairs of tracks that ran parallel to each other. He remembered his own training days. “This is training too.”

The Engineer shrugged. “Everything here is simple. Nothing ever happens here.”

The Station Master agreed. Nothing ever did happen there. “But if everyone worked at the big stations, then who would man the smaller ones?”

The Engineer sighed and looked beyond the platform. He then looked at his watch. “What’s taking the train so long?” He walked over to the platform’s edge and leaned over it to look for the train.

The Station Master checked his watch as well. Ten minutes had passed since the scheduled time. This was unusual.

“There are people on the tracks,” the Engineer said suddenly. “They’re coming this way.”

The Station Master walked to the platform’s edge and looked at where the Engineer pointed. He saw two men walking towards them. One was tall and lean. The other was short and frail. He recognized them as the local passenger’s drivers. He frowned. What now?

The men rushed along the tracks; their steps came quick but cautious. Their pace quickened when they saw the Station Master and the Engineer.

“What happened?” the Station Master asked when the two men arrived. “Where’s the train?”

“There’s a cow on the track, SM sir,” said one.

“It’s foot is stuck in the crossing,” the other added. “We were barely able to stop the train in time.”

“The men from the village are trying to set it free,” the first one said. “We came here to tell you about it.”

The Station Master looked at the time in his watch. He remembered something. His eyes grew wide. “There’s an interstate train about to pass us.”

“It can’t,” the short driver said. “The cow is right in the middle of the crossing.”

“We have to stop the train,” the Station Master replied.

“I’ll go with these men and help get the cow off the tracks,” the Engineer said.

The Station Master nodded. “I’ll make arrangements to stop the train.”

“How much time do we have?”

“About half an hour,” the Station Master replied and rushed to his office. There, he checked the train roster. He had a little over half an hour. Every minute was a blessing. The interstate train was expected to cross the station before his in another fifteen minutes. He made a call to the other station and informed its Station Master about the situation.

“I’ll inform the driver about it,” the other Station Master replied. “Can the train make a stop at your station until the issue is resolved?”

“It can,” the Station Master confirmed and thanked his peer for the help.

An interstate train was about to stop at his station. A smile peeled his lips… a nervous, thrilling smile. He knew what he needed to do. It was something he had thought about so many times. It was something he had planned many times over in his head. And now, he was going to do it.

He stepped out of his office, wearing the excited smile, and walked over to the tea stall.

“Tea, SM sir?” the old man asked passively.

“Yes, tea,” the Station Master replied eagerly. “A lot of tea.”

The old man and his grandson looked quizzically at the Station Master.

“An interstate — a big city train — is about to stop here.” The Station Master explained about the cow on the tracks. “The train would have otherwise halted at a major junction. People must be hungry. Start making your tea. We’ll serve it to them.”

The old man smiled.

The Station Master looked around. “We’ll need people to serve it.”

“Don’t worry, SM sir,” the old man replied. “My grandson will get his friends.” To his grandson, he said, “Tell them I’ll pay them if they do a good job.”

“How much?” the boy asked.

“Don’t negotiate with me, boy,” the old man said sternly. “Didn’t you hear what SM sir said? It’s a big train. Go now. Get your friends.”

The boy ran eagerly. The old man bellowed after him, “ALSO GET SOME MILK!” The boy waved back his acknowledgement. To the Station Master, he said, “The people will remember my tea for days.” He lit his stove to life. The fire looked as excited as the old man… as excited as the Station Master.

The Station Master marched into the signal room. No interstate train had ever stopped at his station. Not one. And now, one of the biggest trains in the country was going to make a halt here. He changed the signal to red. He was going to do everything to make this halt count. They’ll remember how well they were taken care of. They’ll remember the name of my station.

He then returned to his office and checked his reflection in the mirror. He had not shaved this morning. The stubble on his face looked unpleasant. No passenger must think that the Station Master was a lazy man who didn’t take his job seriously. Because he did. He took the cutter in the makeshift pen stand on his desk and went into the lavatory. His fingers shivered as he ran the cutter’s blade along his cheek. Slowly and steadily, he managed to finish the shave. Shaving around the throat was especially challenging.

After washing his face and patting it dry, he checked his watch. It was almost time. He marched to his office to find his coat. The coat sat on a hook on the wall beside the office’s door. He dusted its shoulders and put it on. The coat had grown tight around his belly. No matter, he thought as he fixed his tie before the mirror. I can keep the buttons undone.

Satisfied with his appearance, he picked up the red and green flags in his desk drawer and stepped outside to inspect the progress. As promised, the boy had brought quite a few of his friends. He had also brought enough and more glasses for serving the tea. The old man stood before a large wok on fire. The Station Master could smell the sweet scent of tea in the air.

Everything looked ready. The children stood across the length of the platform, some with crates of teacups, others with earthen pots full of cool water. Even the fans at the platform had been turned on; they spun with a wild vigour.

The Station Master stood by the platform’s edge, waiting for the interstate to arrive. Any moment now, he thought as he looked at his watch. He checked his cheeks again for any hints of the stubble. It was then that he heard a murmur behind him.

The Engineer had returned. He walked up to the Station Master. “We managed to get the Cow’s foot out of the crossing,” he said. “The track is clear now. The drivers have pulled their train back a little so the interstate could run through first.”

“I don’t understand,” the Station Master replied, his insides going cold.

“Turns out the Cow had slipped its foot through a bit of an opening around the edge.” There was an excitement in his voice. “We dragged its foot out the way it had slipped in. The villagers took the cow away to treat its leg. We were lucky it worked.”

The Station Master looked in the direction of the expected train. “Yes,” he said. “Lucky.” He looked at the little boys who stood across the platform. They all waited eagerly for their big city train.

First came a distant rumble. Then, a sharp whistle. The black engine emerged like a mirage in the distance, becoming real with every passing moment. The Station Master watched the train arrive. He watched the eager faces across the platform. A hateful fit took over his limbs. This can’t be.

The train was about to come to a halt. It had slowed down considerably. This was his moment.

He watched the train come closer. No interstate train had ever stopped at this station on his watch. He held the two flags, one red and the other green. It was his decision. He could force the train to stop. But the track had been cleared.

His shoulders dropped as he sighed. He pulled out the green flag and waved it furiously. The engine whistled twice. It had received the message. There was a quick and loud jerk. The train had started to gain speed.

By the time it arrived at the station, the train had started picking up speed. The engine tooted one final time.

The Station Master watched the children wave at the passing train, laughing among themselves. Some tried selling the tea. He then watched the tea seller’s face shrink; the old man knew all his tea would go to waste. The train bolted along the platform, gaining speed with every turn of its wheel.

As the train crossed the platform, the Station Master wondered if anyone on it had cared to read the station’s name. They won’t remember it anyway. He smiled at the Engineer and said, “You’ve had an exciting day. Come. Let’s have some tea.”