The Vox Populi...
It was the ‘Blitz’ weekend tabloid during the sixties and seventies at least, which used to run a column headed as ‘Vox Populi, Vox Dei’ if I remember correctly. This Latin saying simply translated means that the “Voice of the people is the voice of God”. Any student of modern Indian history will believe that our rulers and elected representatives in the assemblies would believe in this dictum deeply and seriously. Unfortunately they come face to face with this reality only when the elections are round the corner or have actually come out ! Though the Blitz column was usually a very biased write up meant more to propagate the C.P.I. line of thinking than anything else, the phrase somehow is still very meaningful to me and perhaps many who still believe in this old adage.
The small episode that I now intend to relate my friends is not something which touches on some intriguing political happening or incident, but something which I experienced with my father and the general masses/people of this country way back in 1981. It happened on a sultry and hot late evening at the Kanpur Central Station. I had anxiously been waiting for the ‘Deluxe Express’ or the popularly known AC Express to arrive when the PA system announced that it was running two to three hours late. Which meant that I would have to wait in the sweltering heat of the Kanpur station to receive my parents who were travelling by that train to Kanpur en route to New Delhi. The plan was to receive my mother, spend a few minutes allowed by the stopover with my father in the bogie itself after which he would carry on alone to New Delhi overnight where my brother would receive him while I took my mother home at Kanpur. The wait meant that I had to find a telephone booth to convey the message to my wife and I very soon was sweating profusely running from pillar to post to find a telephone booth that worked ! I was somehow able to convey the message to her and she prepared herself and the kids for a delayed dinner for us and changed sleep time for the children who were excitedly awaiting ‘Aajee’s arrival.
From the heated up platform my thoughts went to the morning when I spoke to my father and finalised the programme for his tour as per his schedule. I came to know that he was not getting the reservations and that it may not be possible for him to go to Delhi via Benares. More so, since I had insisted that he should travel by the AC Chair Car at the least in view of the intense heat wave and humidity prevailing in the months of June/July, there was ‘No room’ in any of the AC Coaches. I remembered how with several run ups at both his end and mine thru the Railway reservation contacts he was finally able to get two confirmed AC Chair car tickets, and how relieved we felt ! So, when the train announced its arrival at he Kanpur Central Platform no 1, I very excitedly rushed to the location where the AC Chair car would normally stop.
My surprise knew no bounds when to mine, and several other people who had come to receive or meet their friends and relatives on the train, it was clear that search as we might, we could not find the AC Coach ! Yes, there was the 1st AC and the 2nd AC Seeper coaches but no sign of the AC Chair car ! A few minutes later we came to know that these Coaches had developed some problem at Howrah itself and instead of the AC Coach all the passengers booked had been ‘accommodated’ in the ordinary Sleeper Class. My anger knew no limits and before I could curse the Indian Railways sufficiently enough, I heard a voice, weak and yet loud, of my father shouting out from somewhere my name “ Munnu” and again “Munnu, where are you ?” I rushed backwards a couple of bogies to find my father helping out my mother at the doorstep of the bogie ! Already more than 5 minutes must have gone by since the train had come to a halt at the platform, precious 5 minutes which I
could have spent along with my mother and father, but there was no moment to loose, as there were only about another 5-7 minutes left before the train would start on its journey to New Delhi. By the time I reached out to the coach, my mother had already been helped down by the other co-passengers and I found several of them touching the feet of my mother and bidding her goodbye. It was as if they had all know her and the elderly gentleman standing in the doorway since very long ! “What has happened ? Why are you in the ordinary Sleeper ?” Pointless question, but I nevertheless had blurted it out as many of us do – we ask the question despite knowing the answer ! I had by then been embraced by my mother and had touched my fahers’ feet and received their “Ashirwad” before the all understanding and knowledgeable small crowd which had encircled me and my parents and were looking at the somewhat emotional scene very approvingly. “The AC coaches had been disconnected at Howrah only and we all came to know about the fact only when the train pulled in at Varanasi”, said one of the co-passengers “but don’t worry your parents are well and we have had a wonderful time together, even though we have so many questions and incidents of importance to know from him that the remaining journey to Delhi will not give us that much time as we would like with him !” My mind was on overdrive, “ let me see if we can get a couple of berths in the 2nd AC coach”, but within no time after a furtive search thru the chart with the TTE it was clear that the remaining journey will have to be carried on in the same Ordinary Sleeper to Delhi. All the other co- passengers were now a little worried and asked “You have faith on us, we will not allow any problem to come over ‘Baba’ ..after all he is like our father too isn’t it bhaiyya ?” Still, I felt that my father should break journey at Kanpur and along with my mother who was already down on the platform with me, spend the night at Kanpur and we will organise a trip from Kanpur to Delhi the next day. My father was not very impressed with this suggestion as he felt that getting another reservation at such short notice will be difficult and that he should continue his journey in any case despite all the problem of the heat humidity and the overcrowded bogie. Besides, communications being what they were, it would be not certain if we could get across to Shashi bhaiyya my brother, who would be waiting at Delhi station in the early morning and not finding my father on the train would set off another chain of nervous reactions from all ! As if he had read my mind, he said, “ don’t worry, I will be fine. These kind people have ensured that I get a lower berth next to the window and get a good breeze all thru the way to Delhi” and gave me his by now famous endearing smile. All my pleadings failed and as the crowd around us got to sense the mood of ‘Baba’ to continue his travel to New Delhi with them, they became more forceful and happy with him and with a shout of unified joy asked my father to step back into the warm confines of the bogie. In fact before I would know, he was already on the steps of the bogie and I ha no option but to listen to his last instructions to take care of my mother to whom he bid his usual short good bye, “accha ji, hum chalte hain, tumm munnu ke saath ghar pahunch ke aaram karna, main theek hoon.” I looked around me not knowing how else to argue with him when one of the people who were holding him at the doors of the bogie said,”how can you deprive us of the wonderful experience that your father is relating to us. After all it is not every day that we will get to have amongst us such a great personality who has lived his life as a common man, seen the ups and downs of life, seen the ups and downs of our country’s political and social life and who is as comfortable as any sitting in this crowded Ordinary Sleeper bogie, sharing our presence, the heat and the dust and the discomfort that this journey is giving...how can you deprive us of this?” The man asked again, and as if on some Godly cue I looked up to my father and asked him “ are you OK ?” without uttering any words but tears in my eyes as I heard the whistle of the guard and felt the push and the rush around me of last minute activity around the bogie entrance as is so common in all our trains. My father, or ‘Baba’ by
that time to the dozens who had been accompanying him was on the doorstep, his frail body wrapped up in the white khadi kurta and dhoti, his hair a little dishevelled from the rush, hustle and bustle inside the bogie, looking to me as though he had been taken in the arms of the people in the doorway, so very caringly, and carefully, as if he were a small child being held in the loving arms of his mother ! He seemed to ask , “do you have the answer son to what these people say? I am happy with them and don’t worry, bade araam se rasta kat jayega pata bhi nahin chalega”, and gave me the famous smile while he raised his hands to wave goodbye as the train started to move. I could see the happy and cheerful faces of his co passengers waving out to me and shouting out “bhaiyya don’t worry, it is our gift from God that we have him with us today, and we are looking forward to our journey with him. Thank you for agreeing to let him go with us....” and the voices trailed off in the dark and humid atmosphere of the Kanpur Platform and very soon only the red tail light of the train was faintly visible.
As I held the hands of my mother and made our way slowly to the exit, she asked me what all that shouting was about. I looked at her and simply said, “woh log keh rahe the ki ‘Baba’ ko acchi terah se Dilli tak pahuncha denge aur koi chinta mat kariyega...and before I knew, I was trying to hide my tears from my mother. I acknowledged the presence of God and the people in whom he resided, as I walked my mother to the car, sure in the belief that yes, even today ( read 1981 ) truth always prevails and one who has won the faith of the people has won over God Himself.