On a Train to Freedom: Shatabdi Express Diaries
I was away from my college, and I was getting attendance for it. Only students get the importance of this opening line, haha. We were in Chandigarh for a hackathon, and we were going to start back to Hyderabad.
(Music checkpoint)
After the hackathon, we got a bit of time to explore, but only the place where the hackathon happened. We didn't have the “freedom” to go out and explore the city on our own for our safety. Today, the 15th of August 2024, a lot of words are swirling in my head. The most prominent ones are “freedom” and “independence.”
I asked my mom if I could go out on a trip with my friends, and she said no because it isn't safe out there for women. I understood why our college management stopped us from exploring the city, and I understand why my mom said no.
Is it selfish of me to want more freedom than what I already have? Is it selfish of me to wish for a world where my mom can send me to explore without inhibition? Is it selfish of me to wish for a world free of war? Free of evil?
As I reflect on these thoughts, I realize that the freedom I yearn for is deeply connected to the safety that our soldiers strive to provide. They dedicate their lives to ensuring that we live in a country where freedom is not just a word but a reality. Yet, this freedom is still incomplete for many of us, especially women who face restrictions, not just from external threats but from societal norms and fears.
We were all waiting for the train back to Hyderabad to arrive at the Kharar railway station, the Shatabdi Express. To reach there, we had to travel for almost an entire day, but I didn’t want to leave the place. When the hackathon was going on, it felt like torture, but now I wished it had lasted longer. I didn't want to return to normalcy and the mundane college life. Especially because I would have to give exams after coming back.
The train arrived, and all of us boarded. We were the noisiest on the train. Actually, our group was the biggest, and a lot of college students in one place is like looking at ADHD personified. I sat down at my allocated seat number, far away from my team members. Even though I was alone, I had my borrowed book, 1984, to keep me company. But I was approached by my college mate, saying that there was a student who’s really sick and it would be better if she sat there instead, as this seat was beside our teacher.
I agreed and exchanged my seat with the sick girl. A man then sat in the seat beside me. I was surprised to find that there were people other than those from our college on the train. Although the environment was different, the sheer number of our college mates made it seem like it was my college bus instead.
The man was curious to know which college we were all from and what we were doing in Chandigarh. The conversation started well, and we introduced ourselves. I got to know that he was an army officer. It was my turn to be curious, and I bombarded him with a lot of questions about being in the army.
“Don’t take me the wrong way or anything, but I just wanted to ask…what do you, I mean army officers, do when there’s no war? I mean, I know there’s a war between Russia and Ukraine going on right now, but I haven’t heard much about India in the news these days,” I posed the question.
“War is always going on. It has never stopped. You don’t feel it, but as a soldier, I know that war is everyday. In fact, my friend killed 2 militants today.”
I was struck by his words. War has never stopped. I repeated it inside my head. It hit me, how I was so oblivious to everything that was going on, to how fortunate I am that I didn’t need to worry about these very crucial things about my own safety because of the soldiers. Because of the Indian Army. They are the reason and source of my freedom. My freedom, which I treasure more than anything else. My freedom, which is still incomplete, still bound by many things, many evils. But my freedom is tangible and real; it's the fire that continues burning, fueled by the blood, sweat, and tears of countless soldiers. It’s the Amar Jawan Jyoti.
As I’m writing this, “Freedom” tastes bittersweet. It’s also tainted by corruption; it’s tainted by the many lives of women lost because of crimes against them, with justice unserved. This freedom propels me to write and take a step forward to both honor our soldiers, our country’s glory, while also pointing out my very selfish want: real freedom for women.
The train whizzed past many landscapes, and we ate the lunch they served. My conversation with the man didn’t stop there.
“Our college students are here for a hackathon. Apart from this, my team and I are also participating in the Smart India Hackathon. Do you know about it?” I asked him.
“Of course I do. In fact, I know some of the problem statements by the "The Ministry of Defence". I was involved in in testing the Bramhos missiles made by DRDO recently. Try giving solutions for those problem statements,” he answered. We then delved into a problem statement related to missiles as I tried to understand it.
He added, “Students are the future of India. In fact, the Army goes to many colleges for recruitment, but hardly any people join. You can promote the opportunities I told you about in your college.” I guess this blog is my way of promoting, and even though I have forgotten his name and designation because I’m writing this after a year, on the off chance that he ever gets to read this, I’ll be really, really elated.
Our conversation faded into the wind, as the train whooshed past different states, our diverse landscapes, all the colors blending in to form a blur. Faintly, you can probably hear our conversation popping out from the screen as you’re reading this blog:
“It gets really cold; the temperatures can go down to -20℃ in the Himalayas. We can make ice cream there every day. In fact, we once actually did,” he broke into a small laugh. “I once took my wife and daughter to the foothills.” He showed me the pictures of that. “This is the picture of a tank firing.”
“Whoaaa…” I exclaimed.
The Shatabdi Express reached the capital of our country as our conversation faded, and we settled into a comfortable silence. My pursuit of freedom now had a new direction; my journey back home had given me a delightful encounter. I went back to reading 1984.
“War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength.” - George Orwell, 1984
Music recommendation for this one: Hands Held High by Linkin Park
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Thanks for the insightful read.
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