BACK TO JODHPUR

 BACK TO JODHPUR

 

LT COL NOEL ELLIS

 

29/V/2022

 

In June of 1985, a ‘young officer’ got posted to Jaisalmer on commissioning. With a ‘first class warrant’ in hand it was a privilege to travel in style for the first time. From the ‘fatta’ unreserved class of the Indian Railways, with and without reservation, one had travelled across the length and breadth of the country, but now it was different.

 

This Officer of the Indian Army had vowed to travel for the sake of his country whenever needed by land, sea or air. I think at that time they forgot to add ‘Rail’ in that vow. Luckily had the privilege to travel by all the other three modes of transport and also ‘para jump’ from the air.

 

My father being from Rajasthan at least knew where Jaisalmer was. Otherwise, Panjabis were only aware of ‘Kanedda, Fatttu Dhinga, South Hall & Kala Singhia. The booking clerk gave me such a dirty look as if the Indian Government warrant wasn’t sufficient enough for this rail journey. Some portion of it was missing.

 

A ‘Bradshaw’ which was always handy at home was consulted. It had train routes, train numbers and timings, connecting trains and a railway network map of India. As thick as a telephone directory, it was the saving grace. Though the edition was of the early seventies, the rail network didn’t have many additions in trains. From Delhi onwards it was a meter gauge ride to Jaisalmer.

 

My name was always an issue, especially the ‘middle’ name. The space in my ‘name plate’ used to fall short if all alphabets were used. The booking clerk confirmed only one reservation from Jullender City Jn to Old Delhi with half the name. Kapurthala to Jullender was by the ‘Ferozpur shuttle’ for which reservations were unheard of. He drafted a telegram and morse coded it. He tapped his fingers on the key as if one could travel on the air waves he was generating.

 

With a black steel trunk, a yellow VIP suitcase, an airbag and a Holdall it was some luggage to carry. Nevertheless, with a complete day wait at Old Delhi, as the connecting train was late in the evening the next day, one sat on platform 19 watching trains come and go. Everyone knew it was 2Lt Noel Ellis travelling. I wondered how?. Blimey! My name was painted on the steel trunk and Holdall.

 

There used to be a ‘panga’ in the rail warrants. Clerks always endorsed SR (shortest route) in the ‘via’ column. Government authorisation was such. As luck would have it my name was not there on the reservation chart at Delhi. There were very few takers for first class travel those days, except faujis and railway employees one got a whole coupe to oneself. The TTE charged me the difference of fare which was quite a bit as this was a ‘mail train’ and took a longer route to Jodhpur.

 

There was no choice but to pay as one had not picked up his first rum bottle, which was an accepted currency in the Railways those days. Though he didn’t hesitate asking for it, especially when he saw the big black trunk stuck near the bathroom. Meter gauge width won’t allow it beyond the toilet.

 

This ‘pipsqueak’ was the king and kept awake out of anxiety the whole night. This was unfamiliar territory and this was the only train connecting Jodhpur to the rest of the world. A coolie came and woke me up early in the morning. The train was about to be shunted to the yard. By then an uncle of mine traced me and took me home in a ‘taxi’. This was a three-wheeler commonly called so and not the ‘Ambassadors’ or ‘Kalee Peeli’ Fiats of Delhi and Mumbai.

 

The place was so laid back, hardly any traffic, open broad roads. Having checked from the coolie the time of the Jaisalmer train one moved out. Saab, I shall be waiting for you here only around ‘this time’ and charge you the same. The uniformed coolie had already won my heart. Those days they used to wear a red uniform with a brass licence plate on their arms. In addition, this Jodhpuri coolie wore the traditional safa. It was a ‘Kesaria baalam…………. Padharo Mahre Desh’ moment for me.

 

It was hot in June but as evening fell, temperatures cooled a bit. Auntie fed me an early dinner and packed some parathas which came in handy for the overnight journey to Jaisalmer. This time the ‘First Class’ was that old British ‘sofa’ type. Again, the privilege of exclusively travelling in style was entirely mine.

 

In the middle of the night one woke. The train had halted in ‘Pokhran’. The engine had to refill water and change ends. I was thinking of the Nuclear Blast of 1974. Boy this is it. The famous Pokhran. At three in the morning, one had a hot cup of tea and off we rolled in a ‘chook-chook’ train onwards.

 

It is 2022 now. Little did one realise that one would become a permanent resident of this place. So much water has flown in the Jojari Nadi since. Now one is settled on the banks of the same river. That black trunk is still with me but reads Lt Col instead of 2Lt. That VIP suitcase also remains intact with love letters I and my wife exchanged in the good old days,  however the Holdall met its bitter end somewhere in this long journey.

 

Now I wish to explore this town and also take the train journey back to where I started someday. When will that be? I wonder!!!!!!!

 

JAI HIND

© NOEL ELLIS