Band Of Brothers

- Nandini Thapa

I WAS GOING TO VISIT MY AUNT, posted at the military hospital in Missamari, Assam, in my final year of junior college. The year was 2001.

I was travelling from Goa, where I lived, via Mumbai to Guwahati. Due to the heavy Mumbai traffic and an overcrowded platform, I missed my train. Never one to give up easily, I got a ticket on a general compartment of the Guwahati Express that was about to leave Dadar station. Running across the platform I jumped on to the moving train. It helped that I was in jeans and was carrying only a backpack.

Passengers were packed into the compartment like sardines. Not an inch of space was empty—even the floor under the berths was taken. I managed to park myself in a cramped space between the carriage door and the toilet. It was horribly uncomfortable and smelly. Each time someone wanted to get to the toilet, I had to give way, by moving aside. Tired of shuffling around, I was on the verge of tears, after doing this for three or four hours. I had no idea how I would survive the three-day journey without a reserved seat. I cursed myself for taking the train on an impulse.