A rollercoaster ride amid Ardh Kumbh
BACK in early 1995, the Ardh Kumbh was in progress in Allahabad. I was posted as an instructor at the School of Artillery in Deolali, Maharashtra. I had received orders to take over as the second-in-command of my regiment, stationed at Binnaguri in West Bengal, close to the Assam border. Since there were no direct trains from Deolali to Binnaguri, I booked a ticket to Allahabad, planning to change trains there and catch one heading to Guwahati via Binnaguri.
I began my journey carrying a holdall with my bedding, a quilt, a steel box filled with uniforms and kit, and a small handbag. The train I boarded didn’t have AC two-tier coaches, and I was put up in a three-tier compartment instead. After an uncomfortable overnight journey, we neared Allahabad in the afternoon, only to hear passengers talking about the train being unable to reach the railway station due to congestion caused by the mega festival. The train crawled for about an hour before coming to an abrupt stop in a railway yard.
In the distance, I could see the road bridge over the Ganga, teeming with people and all sorts of traffic. As soon as the train stopped, passengers with lighter bags quickly got off and crossed several tracks to reach the road about half a kilometre away. I found myself stranded in the middle of nowhere.
On getting off the train, I spotted a man in an Army uniform. He turned out to be an NCO from my regiment who had been at the School of Artillery for training. We decided to find a way to reach Allahabad railway station. The main problem was our heavy luggage, which would require at least two fit individuals to carry. By now, the train had emptied, and only a few labourers were there, maintaining the tracks.
We approached them for help. Initially, they declined, citing their duties, but our offer to compensate them handsomely did the trick. With their assistance, we crossed track after track until we finally reached a road teeming with traffic and devotees. After a while, a ‘tempo’ stopped, and the driver agreed to ferry us, but not without demanding a hefty sum. Left with no choice, we agreed.
The journey was only about 7 km long, but it took over an hour to get to the outskirts of the station due to the massive crowd. Not far from the station, the driver stopped, telling us that he could go no further. Stranded again, we were approached by porters from the station who saw an opportunity to cash in on our helplessness. They quoted an exorbitant price, which we reluctantly agreed to pay. When I asked them which train I was supposed to board for Guwahati, they informed me that it had already departed. However, they reassured me that another train to Guwahati would depart later that night.
Later that evening, the train arrived, packed with passengers. The NCO and I squeezed through the crowd, and we resumed our journey to Guwahati.
