This happened many decades ago, when I was still a young high school boy. Imagine those days - no smartphones, no video games, no internet - not even CDs and DVDs. Only a few people had even cassette tape recorders. It was a time when entertainment meant going to the ‘cinema’, especially if you were a young boy living in small town India. I certainly lived in small town India - a small, dusty town near the east coast of Andhra Pradesh. I might have been in my 9th Standard.
We lived in a small rented house close to the railway line. The notable thing about this railway line was that it almost bisected the town. It was a major line, connecting Madras in the south to Calcutta in the north. (They were not called Chennai or Kolkata then). Most of the old town lived west of the railway line, while some of the new developments grew on the eastern side.
As children, we really looked forward to the movies because it was a rare event and we didn’t have too many choices. The movie I wanted to watch was an old, & white, Telugu film. It was being re-released. It was a hugely popular film back in the day and I hadn’t watched it. And so I was full of anticipation and excitement.
Soon, the movie released in a theatre called ‘Vijaya Mahal’, a typical name for movie theatres in those days! And Vijaya Mahal was on the other side, on the eastern side, of the railway line while we lived on the western side. For some reason I don’t remember now, I decided to catch the late night show - typically starting around 10:00 pm and going on up to almost 1:00 am in the morning. Despite some grumbling, I got permission from the family.
So the day finally came and after an early dinner, I bounded off with excitement. I sat spellbound, thoroughly enjoying the fights, the songs and all the usual stuff. Around 1:00 am, the movie finally got over. The few people who came to watch the late night show took different routes to wherever they had to go. As for me, I was thrilled. I was over the moon. As I walked back, I kept reliving the scenes and recalling the dialogues in my head. I was 15 years old.
Further along the railway line, there was a manned railway gate about a kilometer from the theatre, where all the traffic was supposed to cross over to the other side. But it was 1:00 am. The town had gone to sleep a long time ago. All was quiet except for the sound of crickets from the wayside bushes. And it was dark. But, like I said, I was 15 - a boy lost in his world of heroic heroes and villainous villains. So instead of walking parallel to the railway track along the road and crossing it at the railway gate, I decided to walk across the tracks and make a shortcut of it. In a while, I crossed the thorny ’thumma’ bushes that acted as feeble barriers around the railway line. As I approached, even the crickets fell silent.
Now, I started climbing the steep embankment made of crushed stone and gravel that cushioned the rail tracks. Way over to my right in the far distance, I could see the dim lights set around the railway gate. Distant and hardly visible. Back where I was, I crunched over the gravel and got to the top of the embankment. It was too dark to see where I was going. But I wasn’t scared. In fact, I wasn’t even conscious of my surroundings - so lost was I in the movie in my head!
Now, I crossed the first railway track, stretching along the top of the embankment and started descending. A few feet away were the second rise with the second railway track. I slowly stepped into the depression between the two embankments. I was right in the middle of the depression.
Something soft touched my feet.
I looked down. I couldn’t see anything. Not even my feet. The darkness seemed denser between the embankments. There was no moon in the sky and barely enough starlight. What was it? With my thoughts wandering in their own cinema world, I acted without thinking. What was it touching my feet? I bent down close to the ground and my hand stretched to touch whatever w
We lived in a small rented house close to the railway line. The notable thing about this railway line was that it almost bisected the town. It was a major line, connecting Madras in the south to Calcutta in the north. (They were not called Chennai or Kolkata then). Most of the old town lived west of the railway line, while some of the new developments grew on the eastern side.
As children, we really looked forward to the movies because it was a rare event and we didn’t have too many choices. The movie I wanted to watch was an old, & white, Telugu film. It was being re-released. It was a hugely popular film back in the day and I hadn’t watched it. And so I was full of anticipation and excitement.
Soon, the movie released in a theatre called ‘Vijaya Mahal’, a typical name for movie theatres in those days! And Vijaya Mahal was on the other side, on the eastern side, of the railway line while we lived on the western side. For some reason I don’t remember now, I decided to catch the late night show - typically starting around 10:00 pm and going on up to almost 1:00 am in the morning. Despite some grumbling, I got permission from the family.
So the day finally came and after an early dinner, I bounded off with excitement. I sat spellbound, thoroughly enjoying the fights, the songs and all the usual stuff. Around 1:00 am, the movie finally got over. The few people who came to watch the late night show took different routes to wherever they had to go. As for me, I was thrilled. I was over the moon. As I walked back, I kept reliving the scenes and recalling the dialogues in my head. I was 15 years old.
Further along the railway line, there was a manned railway gate about a kilometer from the theatre, where all the traffic was supposed to cross over to the other side. But it was 1:00 am. The town had gone to sleep a long time ago. All was quiet except for the sound of crickets from the wayside bushes. And it was dark. But, like I said, I was 15 - a boy lost in his world of heroic heroes and villainous villains. So instead of walking parallel to the railway track along the road and crossing it at the railway gate, I decided to walk across the tracks and make a shortcut of it. In a while, I crossed the thorny ’thumma’ bushes that acted as feeble barriers around the railway line. As I approached, even the crickets fell silent.
Now, I started climbing the steep embankment made of crushed stone and gravel that cushioned the rail tracks. Way over to my right in the far distance, I could see the dim lights set around the railway gate. Distant and hardly visible. Back where I was, I crunched over the gravel and got to the top of the embankment. It was too dark to see where I was going. But I wasn’t scared. In fact, I wasn’t even conscious of my surroundings - so lost was I in the movie in my head!
Now, I crossed the first railway track, stretching along the top of the embankment and started descending. A few feet away were the second rise with the second railway track. I slowly stepped into the depression between the two embankments. I was right in the middle of the depression.
Something soft touched my feet.
I looked down. I couldn’t see anything. Not even my feet. The darkness seemed denser between the embankments. There was no moon in the sky and barely enough starlight. What was it? With my thoughts wandering in their own cinema world, I acted without thinking. What was it touching my feet? I bent down close to the ground and my hand stretched to touch whatever w
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