Palace on wheels

During the lockdown, as a travel aficionado, I was distracting myself browsing articles on luxury trains and it took me back in time. Many years ago, senior railway officers used to travel by saloon when they went on tours. I am unsure whether this facility still exists. Perhaps the facility was a hangover of British Raj.

Those were the days of no television and no internet. We were not as wise as the children of today. When I reflect now I think that it was a colossal waste of taxpayers’ money. But the trips were formative childhood memories.

My sister and I used to binge read Enid Blyton books. One of my favourites was ‘Five go on a Caravan’. In our imagination, the saloons replaced caravans and we used to look forward to accompanying our father when we had school holidays. Travelling via saloon was almost akin to a palace on wheels.

The saloons had fully furnished living rooms with two or three bedrooms, attached bathrooms, a kitchen and an inspection room. It was a holiday for my mother too as the cook serve freshly prepared meals. Since my father served in North East frontier railway, our trips involved traversing the picturesque state of Assam. I have vivid memories of the mighty Brahmaputra, the virgin forests and the lush green tea estates. The trains did not travel at high speeds then so one could soak in the natural beauty of the state. I can still visualise the women in the tea garden plucking tea leaves with baskets tied to their back.

At the destination, the saloons were detached and parked. When my dad went to work, we used to accompany our mother to the local market. The main purpose was to purchase vegetables but we also we whiled away our time looking at the local treats. I have vivid childhood memories of our trip to Lumping. In those days, it was the station from where one had to travel by road to Nagaland. Shawls and other traditional memorabilia from Nagaland were available at Lumding and I recall my mother haggling with a vendor.

Another memorable trip was crossing the mighty Ganges from Khejuria Ghat to Farakka by ferry. The bridge over the river was yet to be built. My sister and I were thrilled to bits to move to a bigger saloon from Farakha to then Calcutta. I will never able to afford palace on wheels but I am one of the lucky one who has experienced the same albeit in a tad less luxurious form.