5:10 p.m.
When I entered our home on that Friday evening, I had come back early from work, because we were to leave for Badami in a few minutes. We were scheduled to board the taxi at 5:45 p.m. to give ourselves almost 2 hours to drive to the train station. But, I gave a shock to my wife and son saying that we may have to cancel the trip due to some problems in the project that needed me to stay back and work.
Our packed travel bags were kept ready. I had even informed the taxi guy to come at 5:45 p.m. for pick-up. Bijapur Express train from Yeswantpur leaves at 7:45 p.m. But this big dilemma for me to stay back and be available for the project work was the hassle.
My son was poking me to still go to Badami, and recommended me to stay at the hotel room and do whatever my office work was, remotely; and they both would roam around the ancient Chalukyan capital filled with several cave temples, tonnes of sculptures, and vast archeology. I was still trying to see how to cancel the trip so that I could go to work on Saturday.
The project was at a crucial phase, it has been going delayed, and the customer had been asking to pull-in the completion schedule.
5:15 p.m.
I made a few phone calls to my project team members. Debated with them on how things would be able to move forward if I continued on my week-end trip, and, alternately, if I stay back with them.
5:20 p.m.
The taxi guy called me for checking the route to reach our apartment. I still gave him the landmarks. So much for my dilemma. I kept telling my family that I loved to stay back. They were baffled.
I compellingly logged on to my computer to catch up with my project stuff emails of the previous 35 minutes since the time I had left from my desk at work. My colleagues were reassuring me that my travel should go on and they would take care of official activity over the week-end. I could not win my dilemma yet.
5:40 p.m.
The taxi arrived. My son was going to almost cry if the trip was indeed
cancelled. He browsed to confirm that Badami had Tata
Photon data card service active! I wrapped up on my emails communications.
Minutes later, I decided that we would go on the trip, with my laptop and data
card.
6:10 p.m.
We boarded the taxi, 25 minutes later than schedule. Friday evening. Peak rush hour. It took a full 15 minutes to reach just Hosur road junction that is only 1 KM near from our home. Next, Silk Board junction was even more crowded.
6:35 p.m.
We were still at Madiwala junction, just 3 KM from
our home. Distance
to Yeswantpur railway station is 20 KM! While my
wife and son started talking about some student competition my son was to
attend, the school activity coming in the following week, etc. I was completely
stuck with thoughts about official project work. I opened my computer,
plugged-in the data card and continued my work.
6:40 p.m.
Our taxi was still floating in a flood of traffic near Ayyappan Temple Madiwala. The snail's pace of the taxi was irritating to my son. He got restless and started his requests for snacks and cool drinks and what not. I was suggesting him to shift position to take a window seat and look outside. The traffic was snarling. I caught back the telephone calls again with my office colleagues talking about some urgent actions to be completed later that night, and the following 24 hours. There were project related emails coming in that I did not even expect, and my urgent responses were crucial.
6:55 p.m.
We were just passing by Forum Mall Koramangala. First time, I told my family that we might not catch the train at 7:45 p.m. at Yeswantpur. I was glad about the chance to kill my dilemma, and stay back, to go to work on Saturday. It irritated my son even more. But the taxi could not move even as fast as pedestrians near Forum Mall.
7:05 p.m.
Johnson market (Hotel Toms) signal to Vellara junction signal was jam packed. It appeared like all people from Hosur road side wanted to throng only Bangalore City railway station or Majestic bus stand on that evening. The taxi driver was getting calls on his phone for his next trip(s). He was informing them that it might take another hour for him to complete this trip. I was looking at my wife's and son's faces, almost in despair. I told my son that we still had 10 more KM to travel, but had only about 30 minutes if we were to catch the train.
The next few minutes gave us some hope. I was expecting a big jam at Raj Bhavan road. But we passed through that stretch like a breeze. Then the Golf course stretch on Sankey road was even better. The ambiance suddenly felt comfortably cool.
7:15 p.m.
But then again, Cauvery theater junction and the stretch towards Sankey tank became slow moving. But, we were moving. It slightly appeared like we might make it to the train at 7:45 p.m. We started munching some snacks from our bag. The pressure on our minds had drained our energies.
7:20 p.m.
At Bhashyam circle, when the driver turned right to get into Sadashiva nagar, I felt something was not right. That stretch is quite narrow and is normally very stuck with traffic. And it was exactly that way for us. We only had another 4 KM to reach our destination. But to come out of Sadashiva nagar and get on to C V Raman road, that is only 1 KM from Bhashyam circle, it took 10 more minutes for us! I was losing hope again. Actually I was feeling more joyful, that I could go back home, to be able to work during the week-end.
7:30 p.m.
On C V Raman road the traffic was very slow again. First time, I told the driver that our train was to depart at 7:45 p.m. and I expressed my concern that we might miss the train. He kept quiet without any response. My son felt we would still make it. Added to the delays, there was a fly-over construction near IISc junction. Vehicles were fighting for their space to squeeze into the foremost spot for moving forward. We were caught at the next signal for Red light, twice.
7:35 p.m.
We were nearing Yeswantpur. I told my son that we still had almost 2 KM to go. But I was unsure about how much would be the delays at the signals near Yeswantpur main road and the surrounding market area. The driver asked me whether to drop us at the front gate of the railway station or the rear gate. It was an important question. I did not know the answer. Because we were going to that railway station for the first time, and we had not prepared the information on the platform number from where Bijapur Express starts from, and whether it is quickly reachable from the front or rear gate. I tossed out the choices in my mind. I knew the rear gate is on Tumkur road; and, the front gate is on a crowded market side. I told the driver to take us to the gate which he can reach fastest. We had exactly 9 minutes only, not just to reach the station, but to board the train itself. So we had probably just 5 minutes max to reach the station's entrance.
7:37 p.m.
First time, my son said that we were not going to make it. My wife started asking about where to sit and eat the packed dinner we had on hand, and how to return home, etc. We reached the last major signal where, going straight takes us to market area and the main entrance of train station, and turning left takes us to Tumkur road towards the rear entrance. I started enquiring with the driver about the taxi fare for the trip. He said Rs 320 for that 20 KM distance. I asked him how. He said it is Rs 200 for the first 10, and then Rs 12 for every additional KM. I started pooling in the cash and small notes to keep the exact amount ready. I did not have even a few seconds to ask him any clarifications.
7:38 p.m.
When he drove through the market area, we were still not sure whether we were going to miss the train or catch it. The taxi moved pretty quickly for a few meters. At the last T-turn, we were alongside a short wall and we could see the railway tracks on the other side of it. It was such a soothing sight to see that we were near the railway station. But, but, the thought and fact that the taxi would not be able drive us all the way right in to our 3-tier AC coach, and the fact that we would have to get down, pick up the bags, walk, find out the platform, walk again all the way, search B1 coach's location, and then board the train - all that within the next 5 to 6 minutes - instantly made me feel that we were wasting our time going towards the railway station, and we should instead be taking a u-turn actually and go back home right away.
7:39 p.m.
After that T-turn, the road was narrowing down even more. As the driver drove down further, we got into this crowded junction full of auto-rickshaws, buses, taxis and pedestrians. The railway station's dull, small entrance was seen. And there was this small pole at the center of the road to circle around. I told the driver to stop much before that on the left hand side itself so that it would be easy for us to jump off and rush into the entrance that was again on the left hand side itself. But the driver took his own sweet time to drive around the circle, and got himself entangled around a couple of auto-rickshaws, couldn't stop there for us to alight, and then he had to move a few more feet away to the other side of the road before he could stop.
7:40 p.m.
We jumped off and rushed to the boot and picked up the bags. I pushed the crumbled 320 rupees into this palm. I kept yelling 'move', 'move', to my son and wife. We had to walk across the road passing through oncoming traffic and alighting passengers there. It was mad rush.
7:41 p.m.
I prompted my family to check whether we had collected everything from the taxi. Both from the seat and from the boot. We checked on us and the count was alright. We had to walk several steps to reach the entrance of the railway station.
7:42 p.m.
We reached the doorway at the lounge area. There was a lot of passenger crowd. The station looked pale and incomplete, as though it was still work-in-progress. It was a bit dark, poorly lit. No display boards about trains departure were seen. There were no attendants or ticket-checkers who could be approached. We were desperate to check the platform number for Bijapur Express. We were hoping that the train departs some 10 minutes late. It is not unusual that our trains start several minutes late, is it not?
7:43 p.m.
I enquired at the counter wicket. Came to know that we would have to go to platform no. 5. When we rushed through the doorway on to the platform, the other major question was about which way to go to reach platform 5. With no sign boards around, we did not even know the platform no. of the one we were on. Was it platform no. 1 or 5 or 7 nothing was was clear. I knew that it was the last few seconds that could make us either catch or miss the train. The tension was steeping high. Soon I figured we were on platform 1. We were hustling. We rushed towards the over-bridge stairway that was nearest to the doorway at which we were standing. I stopped again for a moment. I looked at the top end of the over-bridge. It was dark. I could not see properly. Time was running away. Luckily I spotted that that over-bridge was connecting only to platform 2 and nothing beyond that. We stopped. Looked around. Hurried. The PA system loudly announced that Bijapur Express is ready to leave from platform no. 5. We were jerked. I then found another over-bridge that would take us to the 5th platform. But then we were shocked. It was located at the far end of the 1st platform on which we were standing. It was at least 400 feet, or even more, to walk all the way to reach it. There was no time to think We started running.
7:44 p.m.
I was holding 2 of our big bags on both hands, plus my laptop on my backpack. My wife, a slow walker, had a small hand bag. My son had a shoulder-strap water pack hanging. We started running in a cluster. The random movement of oncoming crowd was hitting at us, slowing us down. I kept shouting at my family to run. The over-bridge had a sloping ramp to climb instead of steps. The PA system shouted one final time that it was departure time for our train. My son gave up. He told me that we had no way to catch the train as they have announced its departure. I told him to keep running. We crossed above platform 2 on the bridge. Our legs were curling and swirling. Lungs were gasping. Backs were cramping. After another 15-20 seconds we held the side-railings and bowed to take breaths. Soon we crossed above platform 3. The pedestrian movement on the over-bridge was also crowded. We had to maze around to find our gaps to step forward. My wife was attempting to catch us reasonably at good stead.
7:45:00 p.m.
We were still mid-way on the over-bridge. We started feeling that the train would have gone. But I told my wife and son to keep running. When we reached the top of platform 5, I sighted a train on the platform. We had to walk down the ramp to get down and close in to the train. I shouted at my son and wife that the train was still there. Out of the flooding profuse sweat and frowning faces, gleaming smiles rose.
7:45:50 p.m.
But, the big problem came finally. To the left and to the right, there were two ramps to get down to the platform. The big dilemma was about where the B1 coach was. To the left or to the right. Towards the engine end or towards the rear end. The PA system announced that the train was leaving. From that distance, I could not recognize a distinct profile of a AC coach so as to select which ramp to use. I randomly picked the ramp down on the left side. My son told me to slow down since the train was anyway standing there only. I told him that we should keep running. Our thighs, shins, ankles and feet were fainting sick. Every step we took felt like our feet were dragging with heavy weighing stones. We almost crawled to reach the bottom end of the ramp. When we touched down on the platform I spotted that the B1 coach was just the second coach, at about 40-50 feet from that point. It was a huge luck. We all smiled at each other. But the train started moving. Oh... we ran. The train picked up speed instantly. We ran faster. We lunged. And finally... we jumped on... and... latched on to the train. It was the coach adjacent to B1.
Somewhere... a three-seconds moment that we had not lost somewhere... somewhere during the previous two hours... since the time I reached home early from office that evening... and all through the taxi journey... traffic chaos... red signals... platform runs... over-bridge... by a three-seconds save somewhere... a narrow miss... was avoided for us!
On board our B1 coach, it took more than 1 hour for us, to come to terms with the fact that we were not going back home; and to come out of the enervation, exhaustion and extreme fatigue; and to come out of the dubiety and uncertainty that had been engulfing us. We made our Badami Trip in the end, only by just a three-seconds luck... somewhere.
When I entered our home on that Friday evening, I had come back early from work, because we were to leave for Badami in a few minutes. We were scheduled to board the taxi at 5:45 p.m. to give ourselves almost 2 hours to drive to the train station. But, I gave a shock to my wife and son saying that we may have to cancel the trip due to some problems in the project that needed me to stay back and work.
Our packed travel bags were kept ready. I had even informed the taxi guy to come at 5:45 p.m. for pick-up. Bijapur Express train from Yeswantpur leaves at 7:45 p.m. But this big dilemma for me to stay back and be available for the project work was the hassle.
My son was poking me to still go to Badami, and recommended me to stay at the hotel room and do whatever my office work was, remotely; and they both would roam around the ancient Chalukyan capital filled with several cave temples, tonnes of sculptures, and vast archeology. I was still trying to see how to cancel the trip so that I could go to work on Saturday.
The project was at a crucial phase, it has been going delayed, and the customer had been asking to pull-in the completion schedule.
5:15 p.m.
I made a few phone calls to my project team members. Debated with them on how things would be able to move forward if I continued on my week-end trip, and, alternately, if I stay back with them.
5:20 p.m.
The taxi guy called me for checking the route to reach our apartment. I still gave him the landmarks. So much for my dilemma. I kept telling my family that I loved to stay back. They were baffled.
I compellingly logged on to my computer to catch up with my project stuff emails of the previous 35 minutes since the time I had left from my desk at work. My colleagues were reassuring me that my travel should go on and they would take care of official activity over the week-end. I could not win my dilemma yet.
5:40 p.m.
The taxi arrived. My son was going to almost cry if the trip was indeed
cancelled. He browsed to confirm that Badami had Tata
Photon data card service active! I wrapped up on my emails communications.
Minutes later, I decided that we would go on the trip, with my laptop and data
card.6:10 p.m.
We boarded the taxi, 25 minutes later than schedule. Friday evening. Peak rush hour. It took a full 15 minutes to reach just Hosur road junction that is only 1 KM near from our home. Next, Silk Board junction was even more crowded.
6:35 p.m.
We were still at Madiwala junction, just 3 KM from
our home. Distance
to Yeswantpur railway station is 20 KM! While my
wife and son started talking about some student competition my son was to
attend, the school activity coming in the following week, etc. I was completely
stuck with thoughts about official project work. I opened my computer,
plugged-in the data card and continued my work. 6:40 p.m.
Our taxi was still floating in a flood of traffic near Ayyappan Temple Madiwala. The snail's pace of the taxi was irritating to my son. He got restless and started his requests for snacks and cool drinks and what not. I was suggesting him to shift position to take a window seat and look outside. The traffic was snarling. I caught back the telephone calls again with my office colleagues talking about some urgent actions to be completed later that night, and the following 24 hours. There were project related emails coming in that I did not even expect, and my urgent responses were crucial.
6:55 p.m.
We were just passing by Forum Mall Koramangala. First time, I told my family that we might not catch the train at 7:45 p.m. at Yeswantpur. I was glad about the chance to kill my dilemma, and stay back, to go to work on Saturday. It irritated my son even more. But the taxi could not move even as fast as pedestrians near Forum Mall.
7:05 p.m. Johnson market (Hotel Toms) signal to Vellara junction signal was jam packed. It appeared like all people from Hosur road side wanted to throng only Bangalore City railway station or Majestic bus stand on that evening. The taxi driver was getting calls on his phone for his next trip(s). He was informing them that it might take another hour for him to complete this trip. I was looking at my wife's and son's faces, almost in despair. I told my son that we still had 10 more KM to travel, but had only about 30 minutes if we were to catch the train.
The next few minutes gave us some hope. I was expecting a big jam at Raj Bhavan road. But we passed through that stretch like a breeze. Then the Golf course stretch on Sankey road was even better. The ambiance suddenly felt comfortably cool.
7:15 p.m.
But then again, Cauvery theater junction and the stretch towards Sankey tank became slow moving. But, we were moving. It slightly appeared like we might make it to the train at 7:45 p.m. We started munching some snacks from our bag. The pressure on our minds had drained our energies.
7:20 p.m.
At Bhashyam circle, when the driver turned right to get into Sadashiva nagar, I felt something was not right. That stretch is quite narrow and is normally very stuck with traffic. And it was exactly that way for us. We only had another 4 KM to reach our destination. But to come out of Sadashiva nagar and get on to C V Raman road, that is only 1 KM from Bhashyam circle, it took 10 more minutes for us! I was losing hope again. Actually I was feeling more joyful, that I could go back home, to be able to work during the week-end.
7:30 p.m.
On C V Raman road the traffic was very slow again. First time, I told the driver that our train was to depart at 7:45 p.m. and I expressed my concern that we might miss the train. He kept quiet without any response. My son felt we would still make it. Added to the delays, there was a fly-over construction near IISc junction. Vehicles were fighting for their space to squeeze into the foremost spot for moving forward. We were caught at the next signal for Red light, twice.
7:35 p.m.
We were nearing Yeswantpur. I told my son that we still had almost 2 KM to go. But I was unsure about how much would be the delays at the signals near Yeswantpur main road and the surrounding market area. The driver asked me whether to drop us at the front gate of the railway station or the rear gate. It was an important question. I did not know the answer. Because we were going to that railway station for the first time, and we had not prepared the information on the platform number from where Bijapur Express starts from, and whether it is quickly reachable from the front or rear gate. I tossed out the choices in my mind. I knew the rear gate is on Tumkur road; and, the front gate is on a crowded market side. I told the driver to take us to the gate which he can reach fastest. We had exactly 9 minutes only, not just to reach the station, but to board the train itself. So we had probably just 5 minutes max to reach the station's entrance.
7:37 p.m.
First time, my son said that we were not going to make it. My wife started asking about where to sit and eat the packed dinner we had on hand, and how to return home, etc. We reached the last major signal where, going straight takes us to market area and the main entrance of train station, and turning left takes us to Tumkur road towards the rear entrance. I started enquiring with the driver about the taxi fare for the trip. He said Rs 320 for that 20 KM distance. I asked him how. He said it is Rs 200 for the first 10, and then Rs 12 for every additional KM. I started pooling in the cash and small notes to keep the exact amount ready. I did not have even a few seconds to ask him any clarifications.
7:38 p.m.
When he drove through the market area, we were still not sure whether we were going to miss the train or catch it. The taxi moved pretty quickly for a few meters. At the last T-turn, we were alongside a short wall and we could see the railway tracks on the other side of it. It was such a soothing sight to see that we were near the railway station. But, but, the thought and fact that the taxi would not be able drive us all the way right in to our 3-tier AC coach, and the fact that we would have to get down, pick up the bags, walk, find out the platform, walk again all the way, search B1 coach's location, and then board the train - all that within the next 5 to 6 minutes - instantly made me feel that we were wasting our time going towards the railway station, and we should instead be taking a u-turn actually and go back home right away.
7:39 p.m.
After that T-turn, the road was narrowing down even more. As the driver drove down further, we got into this crowded junction full of auto-rickshaws, buses, taxis and pedestrians. The railway station's dull, small entrance was seen. And there was this small pole at the center of the road to circle around. I told the driver to stop much before that on the left hand side itself so that it would be easy for us to jump off and rush into the entrance that was again on the left hand side itself. But the driver took his own sweet time to drive around the circle, and got himself entangled around a couple of auto-rickshaws, couldn't stop there for us to alight, and then he had to move a few more feet away to the other side of the road before he could stop.
7:40 p.m.
We jumped off and rushed to the boot and picked up the bags. I pushed the crumbled 320 rupees into this palm. I kept yelling 'move', 'move', to my son and wife. We had to walk across the road passing through oncoming traffic and alighting passengers there. It was mad rush.
7:41 p.m.
I prompted my family to check whether we had collected everything from the taxi. Both from the seat and from the boot. We checked on us and the count was alright. We had to walk several steps to reach the entrance of the railway station.
7:42 p.m.
We reached the doorway at the lounge area. There was a lot of passenger crowd. The station looked pale and incomplete, as though it was still work-in-progress. It was a bit dark, poorly lit. No display boards about trains departure were seen. There were no attendants or ticket-checkers who could be approached. We were desperate to check the platform number for Bijapur Express. We were hoping that the train departs some 10 minutes late. It is not unusual that our trains start several minutes late, is it not?
7:43 p.m.
I enquired at the counter wicket. Came to know that we would have to go to platform no. 5. When we rushed through the doorway on to the platform, the other major question was about which way to go to reach platform 5. With no sign boards around, we did not even know the platform no. of the one we were on. Was it platform no. 1 or 5 or 7 nothing was was clear. I knew that it was the last few seconds that could make us either catch or miss the train. The tension was steeping high. Soon I figured we were on platform 1. We were hustling. We rushed towards the over-bridge stairway that was nearest to the doorway at which we were standing. I stopped again for a moment. I looked at the top end of the over-bridge. It was dark. I could not see properly. Time was running away. Luckily I spotted that that over-bridge was connecting only to platform 2 and nothing beyond that. We stopped. Looked around. Hurried. The PA system loudly announced that Bijapur Express is ready to leave from platform no. 5. We were jerked. I then found another over-bridge that would take us to the 5th platform. But then we were shocked. It was located at the far end of the 1st platform on which we were standing. It was at least 400 feet, or even more, to walk all the way to reach it. There was no time to think We started running.
7:44 p.m.
I was holding 2 of our big bags on both hands, plus my laptop on my backpack. My wife, a slow walker, had a small hand bag. My son had a shoulder-strap water pack hanging. We started running in a cluster. The random movement of oncoming crowd was hitting at us, slowing us down. I kept shouting at my family to run. The over-bridge had a sloping ramp to climb instead of steps. The PA system shouted one final time that it was departure time for our train. My son gave up. He told me that we had no way to catch the train as they have announced its departure. I told him to keep running. We crossed above platform 2 on the bridge. Our legs were curling and swirling. Lungs were gasping. Backs were cramping. After another 15-20 seconds we held the side-railings and bowed to take breaths. Soon we crossed above platform 3. The pedestrian movement on the over-bridge was also crowded. We had to maze around to find our gaps to step forward. My wife was attempting to catch us reasonably at good stead.
7:45:00 p.m.
We were still mid-way on the over-bridge. We started feeling that the train would have gone. But I told my wife and son to keep running. When we reached the top of platform 5, I sighted a train on the platform. We had to walk down the ramp to get down and close in to the train. I shouted at my son and wife that the train was still there. Out of the flooding profuse sweat and frowning faces, gleaming smiles rose.
7:45:50 p.m.
But, the big problem came finally. To the left and to the right, there were two ramps to get down to the platform. The big dilemma was about where the B1 coach was. To the left or to the right. Towards the engine end or towards the rear end. The PA system announced that the train was leaving. From that distance, I could not recognize a distinct profile of a AC coach so as to select which ramp to use. I randomly picked the ramp down on the left side. My son told me to slow down since the train was anyway standing there only. I told him that we should keep running. Our thighs, shins, ankles and feet were fainting sick. Every step we took felt like our feet were dragging with heavy weighing stones. We almost crawled to reach the bottom end of the ramp. When we touched down on the platform I spotted that the B1 coach was just the second coach, at about 40-50 feet from that point. It was a huge luck. We all smiled at each other. But the train started moving. Oh... we ran. The train picked up speed instantly. We ran faster. We lunged. And finally... we jumped on... and... latched on to the train. It was the coach adjacent to B1.
Somewhere... a three-seconds moment that we had not lost somewhere... somewhere during the previous two hours... since the time I reached home early from office that evening... and all through the taxi journey... traffic chaos... red signals... platform runs... over-bridge... by a three-seconds save somewhere... a narrow miss... was avoided for us!
On board our B1 coach, it took more than 1 hour for us, to come to terms with the fact that we were not going back home; and to come out of the enervation, exhaustion and extreme fatigue; and to come out of the dubiety and uncertainty that had been engulfing us. We made our Badami Trip in the end, only by just a three-seconds luck... somewhere.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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