by Syed Shadab Ali Gillani
SRINAGAR: A few days ago, I boarded a train to Banihal with my colleague and childhood friend, Umar Dar, for a story. As the train pulled into the station, it felt less like a routine journey and more like stepping into a time machine. Memories of my college days came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting.
In those years, the train was not merely a mode of transport; it was a lifeline, a stage where friendships were forged, stories exchanged, and countless moments of joy and struggle unfolded. For Umar and me, it was an integral part of our daily routine as we travelled to Baramulla for college. But life had moved on. The last time I had boarded this train was in 2020, just after the Covid-19 pandemic, to collect my marks card from college. Since then, the train had faded into the background of my life, like an old photograph gathering dust.
A Familiar World, Now Distant
Back then, the railway stations of Srinagar and Baramulla felt like second homes. Every corner held a familiar face. The local tea vendors greeted you with a smile, the security personnel nodded in recognition, and the ticket collectors and cab drivers knew you by name. Even the vendors in the train compartments felt like part of an extended family. Life revolved around these people, each playing a small but irreplaceable role.
A Changed Landscape
During a recent visit to Baramulla, I made it a point to stop by the railway station—a place that has undergone a dramatic transformation over the years. Today, it is a bustling hub, teeming with shops and activity. But in the past, there were only two or three small tea stalls. We would often sit at one, sipping chai and waiting for the train to arrive.
As I stood there, lost in the past, I encountered the same tea vendor I had known years ago. I reminded him of how we used to sit there, sharing cups of tea and laughter, while waiting for the train.
Nostalgia and Change at Srinagar Station
Returning to Srinagar station felt strange, almost disorienting. As I stepped inside, I was struck by how much had changed. The station had been upgraded; its facilities modernised. A canteen now stood where none had been before, and everything seemed newer, shinier. Yet, what stood out most was not the physical transformation, but the absence of familiar faces. The people I had once known so well were gone, replaced by strangers. The station felt different, almost like a place from a parallel universe—a shadow of its former self.
When the train finally arrived, it brought with it a flood of memories. The rush of people, the chaos, the hurried footsteps—it all reminded me of my college days. Back then, it was the same: passengers leaping off the train to secure a cab, their urgency unchanged by the passage of time. Some things, it seemed, remained stubbornly constant.
A Time Capsule on Wheels
Stepping into the train was like entering a time capsule. The compartments, unfortunately, were much as I remembered them—littered with wrappers and garbage. It was disheartening to see how some habits persisted, untouched by the years. As I found a seat and settled in, my eyes wandered to the snack vendors pacing the aisles, their trays laden with mattar and channe. Their faces were unfamiliar, and I found myself searching for the vendors I had once known. Where were they?
As the train chugged forward, stopping at various stations, I kept observing, hoping to find something—or someone—that felt like home. Then, at one of the stops, a man with a white beard approached me, his smile warm and knowing. I studied him for a moment before recognition dawned. It was one of the vendors from my college days. Back then, he had been young and full of energy. Now, time had etched its mark on him. His face bore the lines of hard work and burden, and his hair and beard had turned white.
Timeless Connections on the Tracks
We exchanged greetings, and for a few moments, it felt as though nothing had changed. We spoke about life, about how the years had treated him. He shared his struggles, his family, and the stories of his life spent on these very tracks. His smile carried a mix of warmth and weariness, a testament to the passage of time. Before he left, he handed me a packet of channe, just as he had done years ago. It was a small gesture, yet it felt profoundly significant.
As the train rolled on, I sat there holding the packet, my mind awash with memories. It struck me how time moves forward relentlessly, reshaping everything in its path, yet some connections remain untouched by its march.
A Reunion at the Station
On our way back, I encountered a tea stall owner at Srinagar station—a man who had once been a familiar face and, in many ways, a friend. He, too, remembered me, and the recognition brought a quiet joy to both of us. It was a reminder of how human connection, even in the most mundane settings, can bring a sense of fulfilment and happiness.
That brief interaction underscored the bonds we form in the most unexpected places, and how those bonds endure, even when life pulls us in different directions. The station, the train, and the people who inhabit them may change, but the memories and connections they foster remain etched in the heart, timeless and unchanging.
