My love for train journeys started late. Unlike many who
grew up traveling by rail, I first boarded a train only when I went to Chennai
for my post-graduation. Hard to imagine, right? Until then, trains were just
something I watched from a distance, not something I experienced.
You see, I grew up in a village in Kerala, tucked away in a
corner of Ernakulam district that borders both Idukki and Kottayam. Rail tracks
had not yet reached our part of the world, so trains were almost alien to us.
To understand my place better, think back to the BSNL landline days. Back then,
every household had a phone. But if I wanted to call a friend just a few
kilometres away—because she technically lived in another district—it counted as
an STD call. At home, STD calls were strictly off-limits, too costly to be
wasted on “chit-chat.” So instead, the cheaper option was to hop on a bus or
even take an auto, spend a couple of rupees, and talk to my friends
face-to-face for hours. Funny, isn’t it? A short distance on paper felt like a
whole world apart, simply because of a telephone code. Maybe that’s why city
life and trains always seemed so fascinating to us—after all, back then we
thought of trains as something meant for urban people. Whenever we visited
Ernakulam or Kottayam, we would literally stop by the railway tracks just to
see a train passing by. Mouths wide open, eyes sparkling, we would watch the
giant metal snake thunder past. That is village life in a nutshell—simple,
practical, and amusingly paradoxical.
Everything changed when I went to Chennai. My first train
ride—to the city where I would begin my post-graduation—was the turning point. The
gentle sway of the coaches, the rhythmic sound of the wheels on the tracks, and
the scenery unfolding outside the window all made me fall in love instantly. It
felt almost cinematic, like Krishnagudiyil Oru Pranayakalathu, the film
where the whole story beautifully revolves around a train journey. From then on, rail became my favourite way to
travel. If you gave me a choice between air, road, or rail even today, I would
pick rail without a second thought.
Living in Chennai also introduced me to local trains, and
oh, what an adventure they were! Running to catch a train was almost a daily
sport. The laughter once you managed to board after your sprint was priceless.
And then came the joy of buying snacks—peanuts, samosas, and my absolute favourite,
chikku (sapota), which cost just one rupee back then. You could find
quirky little things on local trains—useful, inexpensive stuff that even nearby
supermarkets did not stock. Honestly, I preferred local trains to long-distance
ones, even though they were not always neat and sometimes stank. But they had
character.
Later, Kochi Metro brought a new chapter. When it started in
2017, I was among the first to ride it. It felt like trains had evolved,
becoming sleek, comfortable, and modern. In the metro, I found solitude—I could
read, watch movies in bits, or simply drift into thoughts, all without motion
sickness that plagued me in buses or cars.
But what keeps my heart tied to trains, no matter the kind,
is the view. No other mode of travel offers such beauty. As I write this, I am
on my way to Ettimadai, heading to my PhD campus to meet my guide. Outside the
window, lush forests, endless paddy fields, and vegetable farms stretch into
the horizon. Birds dart across the sky, and if you are lucky, you might even
catch sight of elephants. In the distance, mountain ranges rise majestically,
tempting you to go trekking.
For me, trains are more than transport. They are memories,
paradoxes, discoveries, and emotions—all strung together on steel tracks. There
is something about watching the world roll by through a train window that is
both soothing and inspiring. You lose yourself in thought, yet find yourself in
the process. That, I think, is the true magic of train journeys.
From a little girl watching trains with wonder to a traveller who finds comfort in their steady rhythm, my journey with trains is one that will always keep moving forward..........
