A Journal of Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya

Short Story
PAANI
Gyanprakash Vivek
Translated by
Ravi Nandan Sinha
At night, Jakhal station seemed to be dozing. Tired voices punctuating
the all pervading silence. People sprawling on benches. Pale light
lying scattered on the platform. It seemed as if a few orphan melancholics
were roaming about the place. Without its trains, coolies, vendors
and passengers, the building of Jakhal station looked restless.
Jakhal station dozing. Jakhal railway yard wide awake. It was
a strange paradox. The yard, its tracks stretching far into the distance,
would saw the silence of the night with its hundreds of sounds.
A fine sawdust of sounds floated about. Now and then, wagons left
for loose shunting would crash into one another. There would be
a loud rumbling sound filling the dome of the night.
Carrying their red and green lights and whistles, the shunt-men
and yardmen would move from here to there between the tracks
of the yard, working to get the load ready. When the load was
ready, the engine driver and the guard would come out of the running
room and meet the A.S.M. (Assistant Station Master) of Jakhal station.
They would receive the load. If there was a ‘caution’, they would
collect its slip or token and then move on. The goods train would
be given the line clear signal. Then it would leave. The same process
of getting the next goods train ready would begin again. In the
meantime, cups of tea would tinkle at the tea-stall near the gate.
Laughter and bantering. Gossip. Some distance away from the station,
people would sit around a camp fire, gathering warmth. With the
82 :: January-March 2012