Dawn At Central

 

Dear Reader,

I was looking at my previous entries and realized that I had never written one on trains. Being one who likes holding onto tickets for some funny reason, this blog was long overdue. I remember once a ticket collector jokingly asking me if I was stuffing tickets in my wallet to add weight for the money I didn’t have.  Having to travel home for the weekend for an occasion, it was the perfect time for this blog. Hope you will like it!

 

I woke up right before the alarm at 5. The train had reached before time. It was still dark outside when I looked outside the door as the train was inching towards the station. It was peaceful; the chirping of the morning birds, the slow winds amidst the clacking of metal wheels and the drone of the engine which had soldiered on all night.

Getting off at the station, I was greeted to an unexpected number of commuters and passengers all moving towards the next part of their journeys, to be served perhaps by the insistent auto drivers, the swarming buses, or another train like mine. 

There was a blue diesel shunting locomotive next to our train. I took a few minutes standing next to it. It was surely warm next to it. It sounds different from the electric one which has taken me here. The rumble is more profound and you feel the ground rumbling with the pistons inside the engine. One of the biggest reasons for my love for the city would be the network of trains and the memories associated with them.

Initially the thought of writing this blog was in appreciation of the Chennai Central Station (too lazy to write the new name in full) Itself. So here it goes. Designed by British architect George Hardring and opened in 1873, it stands as one of the most famous landmarks of the city. The building itself is such a welcoming sight with its beautiful arches, the imposing towers and the white roofs contrasting the brick red walls. I have been to the Victoria Terminus in Mumbai when I was younger, but it looked too morbid for me with its more gothic style. Back home we have an old YMCA building built by the British. Standing on the highest point of a hill it gives a great imposing view of our town. 

Back to the story, I walked amongst the people to the exit. I could use some proper sleep. On the way to the exit, I spotted the waiting room. It definitely looks different from the last time I was here. There were rows of huge sofas, people dressed up in three-piece suits at the counters and whatnot. But, just outside the door, lay many many people sleeping right on the floor. It seemed ironic. Dozens of vacant sofas and an air-conditioned room a few feet away but they choosing (or forced) not to go in.

I exited through the ever-defective metal detector machines, and walked to Park Station where I would embark on my second train journey of the day, and I took this picture.

I could perhaps associate more memories with the local electric trains in the Beach - Tambaram line but that is for another day. Let me know what you think.

Until next time, dear reader!