Once I was travelling from Delhi to Kanpur on a day train. It was about 8:30 in the morning and I was chatting with my co - passengers. At Tundla station, a young boy of about 12 years, boarded the train. He was wearing his school uniform and carried his school bag along with him. Bored of the usual Politics and Cricket talk, I turned my attention to the boy. I asked him where he was going. He replied that he used the train to daily commute from Tundla to Shikohabad. We talked about a few random things when he excused himself to go to the toilet. At this point, the TTE walked across our compartment. The kid came back and we started talking near the door of the coach. I noticed that he fidgeted and gave awkward responses whenever I talked about his family. Also, he kept looking over my shoulder in the direction of the TTE. Suspecting something, I asked what was the matter with him. Before I could finish my question, he rushed to the toilet yet again. I turned back and saw the TTE walking into the next compartment. Now, I was sure that something was fishy. Within a minute, the kid came out of the toilet. I gave him a stern look and asked him to show his ticket. As expected, he didnt have one. Doubting something, I told him to show his bag. After one or two minutes of futile avoidance measures, he gave me his bag. I opened the bag and was shocked to see that it contained clothes and a few crumpled currency notes. I brought the guy back to the compartment and told him to tell me the entire story. He confessed that he lived with his Uncle and Aunt in Tundla and was running away from them. Listening to this bizarre story, the elders in the compartment joined in the conversation. He informed that his parents lived in Etawah. I asked for his fathers number and dialed it. Ill never forget the hysterical tone of his mother when she picked up the phone. Apparently, they had got the news that the kid had run away from home. I told her that the boy was safe and on board our train. I asked his father to reach Etawah railway station to pick him up. When the train reached the station, I went down and explained the scenario to a RPF (Railway Protection Force) personnel and handed over the kid to them as my train was about to leave. I came and stood at the door of the train and called the kids father. He had reached the station platform. My train started moving and I stood at the gate. I briefly caught a glimpse of the father running down the stairs of the platform. His face was full of tears as he caught hold of his son and looked at me as my train rolled away. I received the mothers call an hour later. She wanted to send me money. But the gratitude and relief in her voice was payment enough. Plus, my co - passengers started treating me like a hero.
Posted on: Fri, 19 Sep 2014 17:22:51 +0000
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