It was a hot day of September in Jaipur. We were fairly tired at the end of a hectic tour of the north. We had planned to catch the Frontier Mail at Sawai Madhopur, direct to Bombay. Everything seemed set for a perfect trip back to the hometown.
When we arrived at platform no. 3 of the tiny Jaipur meter gauge station at around 6.30 am, the Bikaner express had already arrived. I rushed to the end of the platform to see the power, as a matter of habit and was fooled to find that the power was attached to the other end. Since I wasted some precious time in sipping a cup of hot tea, I had no choice than to board the miserable looking second class coach in a rush. At the next halt I jumped out on a very low platform and ran towards the desired end. The first sight of the loco was very fascinating. The simmering YP was fabulously smoking away in the early hours of the morning.
Almost impulsively, I asked the driver who was by now looking curiously at me, if I could climb in. I few moments later I was aboard the footplate of the most beautiful steam locomotive in India at that time. It was hot, humid and pleasantly noisy inside the cab. We exchanged namaskaars with the driver and the fireman. He readily pulled the throttle arm and we were on the move.
The loco went over the spaghetti of crossings to get on the mainline. By the time we arrived on the mainline, I had climbed up the heap of coal in the tender to take some of the most memorable photographs overlooking the top of the locomotive. I spent a few minutes enjoying the sight. I was then able to see the top of the loco ahead and the top of the entire train behind.
By the time I arrived back into the cab, the loco had gathered an impressive speed. The ride was jerky and rough. The two different cabs make differential movements, which stirred water in my stomach initially, but later I came to terms with the motion. The locomotive looked remarkably powerful and noisy. It gathered good speed as the fireman went on throwing up the coal in the furnace. It appeared as if the acceleration came solely by stacking the coal in the furnace.
As I thought we reached the top speed, I asked the driver what speed we were doing. He readily pointed at the speedmeter dial. When I dusted away the coal particles from the glass dial, I found a thin pointer vibrating vigorously between 60 and 100 kms an hour. I guessed the speed was average of two figures, probably 80 kms an hour which was pretty good for a meter gauge loco consisting of ten coaches and carrying a payload of about 500 tonnes.
It was a beautiful terrain that we were travelling through. I was naturally more involved in the activities inside the cab. The whistle went off by pulling a braided wire running obliquely across the ceiling. The whistle was sharp, high pitched and indeed very impressive. The cab was smeared heavily with smoke and coal particles. The speed seemed to vary with the rate of coal feed in the furnace. The throttle of course was in the “full” position. The heat inside the cab was bewildering.
Then came the waves of local hospitality. The smoked tea arrived on the scene in an aluminum kettle, which was rested on the top shelf of the furnace. There was no question of the tea getting cold. When the fireman poured my tea into the steel pot, it was boiling hot. It was impossible to sip it, I rested the pot on the shelf. Each time I picked up the pot, it was hotter than before. There was no way I could take the pot to the lips. I struggled for a few minutes and only managed to get the pot hotter each time. The driver saw my struggle and held the pot in his hand, stretched out through the window. This time I managed to sip the tea. By the time I finished drinking the tea, the pot was unbearably hot again.
The lateral swaying of the loco was truly frightening. It also rolled sideways in addition to differential movement of the cab and the tender. The Bikaner Express was cruising along swiftly towards Sawai Madhopur. Tiny stations went by, the express halted at five stations to reach Madhopur at 9.45 AM. This was the time the incident of sati (suicidal entry into the flaming pyre of the husband) had just taken place in Rajasthan. At S. Madhopur, an excited mob came in front of the loco. Looked like they wanted to charge the train. I alighted from the YP, which smoked so heavily I felt that it was out of breath for a moment. As I ran and stood in front of the beast, it looked more graceful than before. The wonderful smoke deflectors added to its beauty. I took some more snaps right there. As the excited mob drew closer, I hastily bid good-bye to the two gentlemen inside the cab and rushed back to my friends.
This wasn't the last but the most exciting steam footplating that I had. Unfortunately, I did not see any YPs since then.
Dr. Shirish Yande
