The task of searching for the right word for "how a train journey makes me feel", turned out to quite difficult. As I embarked on my homebound journey at term break, I mused over how I have always been happy whenever I've travelled in a train. One reason of course is the journey itself. Any journey promises a change- from the city, the people and the current way of life. And it offers hope- of a new place, new people and a new way of life. Change and hope are together a potent recipe for happiness. But this source of happiness is common to all modes of travel; my search was for a word that makes a train journey unique.
In planes and ships the surroundings are far too homogeneous to make you feel you've moved very far. In trains however, the limitless expanse of distance gets registered through the way life changes across the journey. The landscape changes, the language on the signboards changes, people's appearance changes, and even their "busy"ness changes. You cross a lush green field where the only thing that moves is the scarecrow swaying, cows grazing and a farmer walking across the field. It appears as if the time is standing still. After half an hour you cross a busy and a noisy railway crossing where scooter riders would be honking their horns, eager to resume their lives on the other side of the railway line.
You'd cross rivers brimming with water- tributaries and distributaries that you cannot name. And you'll cross gorges where unknown rivers once used to flow, that now lay still with the parched soil cracking under the sun. I felt I wanted to know the names of these tributaries, the story behind these dried up rivers, the history of the distant mountain ranges, recognize the species of beautiful trees and pinpoint the location of the passing village. That is when it hit me. The beauty of a train journey is that it showcases a world you don't understand. A world that due to its distance has become distant from yours. My desire to know the name is my desire to place it within my existing models of things I know, but it will kill its magic. It is the incomprehension that makes it wonderful. In a world that is fast running out of mysteries, every element outside the rectangular window frame is mysterious and unknown. You cross broken pathways to invisible destinations, cutting across carpeted fields and disappearing into the horizon. You cross buildings and huts and yet more buildings, each one a passing reminder of the thousands of lives, beyond those mysterious walls that you'd never know. Each dweller is a complete and unique human being and also a complete stranger. You cross platforms that appear to be forgotten, where a few people wait but the train never stops. It is as if the platform has been wiped off the railways map, and when you look beyond the platform and peer into the dimlit huts, you wonder if the town itself has been forgotten. And at last it is the incomprehension of the engineering behind all this . As you cross bridges and rivers, overpasses and underpasses, canals and tunnels, you can't help but wonder at the marvelous human effort that went into stamping a path across the landscape.
Having said all this I have still not figured out the word to describe the feeling. I've narrowed it down to two strong contenders though. I think the word maybe "overawe"- the train journey overawes me with the realization that there is so much I do not know about people, places and the vastness of my country and so much I will never know. On the other hand, the word maybe "promise"- the train journey promises millions of hidden treasures that await the one who cares to search. But then again, perhaps I should not try naming the word. It may kill the magic. I hope you get the point.
