The changing tracks of romance of trains

A side-lower berth in a long-distance train is the best place to see India.

- Abhishek Asthana

It gives a 55-inch panoramic view of the hinterland, a charging point, and ample space to stretch your legs, but not enough to sleep well. Hence, it's the business class of trains, with the added possibility of some random person walking away with your slippers for a visit to the toilet.

Our colonisers constructed most of our railway stations on the outskirts of towns back in the 1800s. Since then, cities have grown around these. So, when a train enters a city, it goes through the entire cross-section to reach its heart – the railway station. It passes through its bazaars, mosques, temples, and railway phaataks (level crossings) where bikers wait impatiently for the train to pass.

You read shop boards, sex clinic ads on walls, and random inscriptions to figure out which city it is, racing against time to guess the city before the train draws close to the platform and signages reveal the name. The name is painted on a stone plaque, black on yellow. The moment it's revealed, there is commotion in the train. Coolies, pheriwalas, passengers who need to disembark, passengers who need to board, your dad with his compulsive urge to get down and fill all the water bottles during the two-minute stop, one guy who claims that the poori sabji is famous here, everybody is suddenly active.