I am new to Chennai. So I found this studio apartment to stay in a pretty calm area with a lot of open terrace. I loved the terrace, since I am so much of a nocturnal being and I like wandering in the terrace lost in thoughts in the night.
As my landlord was showing the place to me, he was saying how Madras used to be and a hidden tinge of nostalgia on his face was evident to me. He is an excellent narrator and I could visualise the old Madras as he explained about his good old days.
And then he started off a story. I was busy seeing how the leaves of the mango tree falling on to the terrace moved in the wind. Then I slowly changed my gaze on to my old land lord out of respect.His eyes had something in it before he started which I couldn't really guess. I just listened to the story to see how would it turn out to be.
He said "Doctor ( As my 60 year old land lord calls me), on 11th February 1981, (6 days less than ten years before I was born), in *some railway station I can't recollect*, around 150 km from Madras there were two trains departing. One to Trivandrum, the Madras mail and other to Yercaud. And it so happened that the driver (locopilot as we address him today) of one of the trains saw a red signal and stopped the train promptly in the station. But he gave a signal that he passed the station."
His eyes showed excitement, and me being a lover of stories with happy endings, expected someone's bravery (which I thought was his) would save the imminent accident.
He went on " but the other train driver didn't know that another train was stationed ahead of his until it was too late. He tried his level best and applied the brakes" he paused. Took a deep breath. I was interested. And for the poor mentalist that I am, I couldn't guess anything from his flushed and smiling face. My face was asking him loudly "did the train stop!?"
"He couldn't stop the train. And it hit the first train. A third goods train was also involved in the accident". I hate sad stories. But that's how life is. I still didn't know the relevance of the story. Was he in the train? Or did he save someone's life that day?
He continued " Around 30 people died that day" he took a long pause. And smiled. His eyes were full. I'm not sure if he looked up the sky took a deep breath. But I almost knew the story. It was for sure how he narrowly escaped death. And how it is to live a second birth. My thoughts were cut short when he talked in a different tone "my dad was in that train. He was going back to vellore after the days business. And we lost him then. Since then it was me alone and I have come up till here" Deeply yet subtly emotional was he, his eyes full of bereavement of something and accomplishment of something else.
I didn't expect this ending. And I'm not sure if it's happy or sad. All I know is this is life. And it has no happy or sad endings. It just goes on. And this date! 11 February 1981, the point where the story started, I am not going to forget that!
As my landlord was showing the place to me, he was saying how Madras used to be and a hidden tinge of nostalgia on his face was evident to me. He is an excellent narrator and I could visualise the old Madras as he explained about his good old days.
And then he started off a story. I was busy seeing how the leaves of the mango tree falling on to the terrace moved in the wind. Then I slowly changed my gaze on to my old land lord out of respect.His eyes had something in it before he started which I couldn't really guess. I just listened to the story to see how would it turn out to be.
He said "Doctor ( As my 60 year old land lord calls me), on 11th February 1981, (6 days less than ten years before I was born), in *some railway station I can't recollect*, around 150 km from Madras there were two trains departing. One to Trivandrum, the Madras mail and other to Yercaud. And it so happened that the driver (locopilot as we address him today) of one of the trains saw a red signal and stopped the train promptly in the station. But he gave a signal that he passed the station."
His eyes showed excitement, and me being a lover of stories with happy endings, expected someone's bravery (which I thought was his) would save the imminent accident.
He went on " but the other train driver didn't know that another train was stationed ahead of his until it was too late. He tried his level best and applied the brakes" he paused. Took a deep breath. I was interested. And for the poor mentalist that I am, I couldn't guess anything from his flushed and smiling face. My face was asking him loudly "did the train stop!?"
"He couldn't stop the train. And it hit the first train. A third goods train was also involved in the accident". I hate sad stories. But that's how life is. I still didn't know the relevance of the story. Was he in the train? Or did he save someone's life that day?
He continued " Around 30 people died that day" he took a long pause. And smiled. His eyes were full. I'm not sure if he looked up the sky took a deep breath. But I almost knew the story. It was for sure how he narrowly escaped death. And how it is to live a second birth. My thoughts were cut short when he talked in a different tone "my dad was in that train. He was going back to vellore after the days business. And we lost him then. Since then it was me alone and I have come up till here" Deeply yet subtly emotional was he, his eyes full of bereavement of something and accomplishment of something else.
I didn't expect this ending. And I'm not sure if it's happy or sad. All I know is this is life. And it has no happy or sad endings. It just goes on. And this date! 11 February 1981, the point where the story started, I am not going to forget that!










