The Gwalior Light Railway: World's longest narrow gauge track

A narrow gauge train, in middle of nowhere, on a rugged landscape, somewhere close to Sabalgarh in MP.

The Gwalior Light Railway

This is Gwalior Light Railway, was constructed in the first decade of 1900's by the erstwhile Maharaja of Gwalior, Madho Rao Scindia. Built in phases, it is a narrow-gauge (2 feet) track that extends over 200 km to connect Seopur Kalan to Gwalior (both in MP), and is the world's longest narrow-gauge track. It traverses a part of the Chambal valley and skirts the lesser-known Kuno-Palpur National Park. Diesel engines have eventually replaced the original steam locomotives on these tracks.

At Kuno-Palpur National Park

 There are twenty-six stations on the way, apart from the two end-points. There are two rail-cum-road bridges on the way, where the road-traffic needs to patiently wait to give way to the train. The train runs at maximum speed of 35 kmph (yes, 35 indeed, I have not missed the trailing zero!). An open-air ride on the roof-top is a more comfortable and a cheaper mode of journey for the village folk than a bumpy ride on the dusty road. 

As I write this blog, I come to know that the future of this narrow-gauge track is uncertain. At some point of time, there had been a proposal that the Gwalior Light Railway be included in the Unesco's list of world heritage sites as a living example of the engineering enterprise of the 19th century. In the meantime, the maintenance of the narrow-gauge is proving to be difficult. A more recent news is that there is a proposal to convert this track to broad-gauge and integrate with the national rail network, as everywhere else in India.

 

Update: (22-May-2021):

The railway has hit the end of the road. It has been decommissioned and dismantled. Henceforth, it's existence will be in a documentary and some blogs (like this) scattered around. (news).

 

Update: (24-Jan-2023):

Cheetahs (that had been extinct in India) have been reintroduced in the Kuno forest and they seem to be doing fine. (news)

 

< PREV | UP | NEXT >

The Story of Brahmani Devi

Manimahesh, situated in the Chamba district of Himachal Pradesh, is a mountain shrine of Shiva, next to Manasarovar Kailash in its religious significance. Though considered as one of the most powerful gods in Hindu mythology, Shiva had his own follies. We came across such a story on our trip to Manimahesh a few years back.

Manimahesh peak

The day before we started on the trek to the lake at the foot of the Manimahesh Kailash peak, we had put up for the night at a nearby village, called Bharmaur, (or Brahmapur in the ancient times). We were told that the presiding deity of the place is Brahmani Devi, the mother goddess, or none other that the wife of the supreme god Brahma. She lived here in a small cottage with his son and her pet bird. There had been a beautiful garden surrounding her abode. Obviously, the residents around the place maintained strict discipline, careful not to invite the wrath of the Devi.

The shrine of Brahmani Devi, Bharmour

One fine day, when Parvati (Shiva’s wife) was away with her four children, probably to her parents’ place, Shiva, like every mortal husband, wanted to make the best of her absence. He gathered eighty-four of his followers and started loitering around. His favorite bull, Nandi, and his faithful servant, Bhringi, accompanied the party.

By the evening, the group landed at Brahmapur, where Shiva wanted to camp for the night. The followers promptly pitched the tents at a corner of the garden of Brahmani Devi. Nandi was hungry after the day’s journey; he started chewing some sweet plants in the garden. Bhringi busied himself in arranging Ganja (cannabis) for the entourage.

Soon  enough, the fumes  of cannabis invaded the space and reached Brhamani Devi’s nose, and the commotion raised by the party penetrated her ears. She was quite upset and came out of her cottage to investigate. When she discovered the party and their activities, her anger knew no bounds. She chased the entourage with a big broom wielding in her hand. The followers of Shiva could not stand her wrath and froze to stones. Shiva wasted no time in wrapping up his tiger-skin (on which sits) and other odd belongings. He promptly summoned Bhringi and the duo made a hasty retreat to the nearby hills of Manimahesh on the back of Nandi.

Temple at Chaurasi Dham (photo from Wikimedia Commons)

The eighty-four our pieces of stones (lingas) still stand at Shiva's camping site as evidences to the event. Eventually, a temple dedicated to Shiva and his followers have been erected on the site, and it is known as the Chaurasi temple. Ever since the incidence, Shiva hides behind the peak of Manimahesh, which is under the wraps of cloud most of the time. Once in a while, when the cloud cover lifts, he peeps out to see if Brahmani Devi is still there with her broom. Maybe, he still looks for an opportunity to come around, make amends with Brahmani Devi and revive his followers to go partying again, elsewhere.

There may not be any truth in the story, and all the characters may be mythical. They do not reflect my personal belief either. They are not intended to hurt the sentiments of any community. They are just shreds of stories that I have heard here and there, and tried to string them together with some colors and spices added to them.

PostScript: The Brahmani Devi's shrine at Bharmaur is at a greater altitude than the Chaurasi temple dedicated to Shiva, signifying the relative supremacy of the former.


< PREV | UP | NEXT >

The forgotten Railway of Kundala valley

1600 meters above the sea level, Munnar (Kerala), with its lush greenery, had once been the summer resort for the British government. Around Munnar, Kundala valley developed into a major tea plantation.

In 1902, Kundala Railway Valley plantations introduced the first mono-rail system in India. What was initially a cart trail, was converted to a unique monorail system. The monorail carts had a small wheel placed on the rail, while a larger wheel (on one side) rested on the road to balance the wagons. [This was similar to Patiala State Monorail System, introduced later, and an engine of which is preserved at the Rail Museum of Delhi.] The train was pulled by bullocks. The train operated between Munnar and "Top-Station" to carry tea leaves and other goods. The tea chests arriving at the Top Station from the Kundala Valley were downloaded to the civilization on the plains via an aerial rope-way.

The Kundala Valley Railway (Photo from Wikimedia Commons)

In 1908, a 2-feet (narrow-gauge) track replaced the monorail; and steam locomotives replaced the bullocks. In 1924, a devastating flood (known as the "great flood of '99", according to local Malayalam calendar) washed away much of the tracks and the railway was closed.  

Munnar never saw a train again. Today, the Railway Station of Munnar serves as a major sales  outlet of KDHP (Kanan Devan Hills Plantations) that owns the tea-gardens around Munnar, and a motorable road runs, where the railway track was.

The erstwhile Munnar Railway Station

< Prev | UP | Next >

How Ravana was deceived by the Devas

According to mythology, Ravana was a very religious person and an ardent follower of Lord Shiva. He prayed to the lord to obtain Atma-Linga (Soul of Shiva) that will make him immortal. Happy with his devotion, Shiva granted  him the boon, and asked him to carry the Linga to Lanka, where he ruled. There was one condition though: the Linga should never be placed on the ground on the way. If the Linga was ever placed on the ground, it will settle there and it would   be impossible to move it further. Ravana did not consider this condition a big deal. Lanka was anyway a day's journey for him. Having obtained the boon, Ravana happily set on his return journey to Lanka, wrapping the Linga with a piece of cloth and carrying it carefully on his shoulder, and with a hymn on his lips.

The Shiva temple complex of Murdeshwara (Karnataka)

Narada, who travelled all around the world to spy for the Devas, became aware of this development. He promptly reported it to the Devas, who became alarmed at the prospect of Ravana's immortality. In order to prevent Ravana to carry the Linga to Lanka, they worked out a sinister plan. 

By mid-day, while Ravana was still on his way to Lanka, Vishnu, the most powerful wizard in the Deva clan, blotted the Sun to make it appear like evening. Alas, Ravana didn't have a wrist-watch (or a cellphone) with him, and could not   judge the time correctly! He was in a fix. He could not conduct his prayers, which he did religiously every evening, with the Linga on his shoulder. The mischievous elder offspring of Shiva joined the Devas: Ganesha appeared in guise of a Brahmin (priest) and offered Ravana to carry the Linga till he completed his  rituals.

Now, Ravana had no other option, but to trust the Brahmin and accept his offer. By the time he completed his rituals, Ganesha played his trick; he put the Linga on the ground and fled. Fait accomplis, Vishnu unblocked the Sun to make it broad daylight again.

The shrine of Shiva, Murdeshwara (Karnataka)

When Ravana realized how he has been hoodwinked, he was infuriated. He drew he sword to avenge the culprits. But, none of the Devas, on whom he could vent his anger, were  anywhere in sight. In utter frustration, he tried to destroy the Linga and tore it to pieces. In the process, it got scattered all over the place. Myth claims that the cloth covering the Linga fell here in Murdeshwar (Karnataka coast), where eventually this grand temple dedicated to Shiva has been built and Ravana is remembered with pride.

The coastline at Murdeshwara

There may not be any truth in the story, and all the characters may be mythical. They do not reflect my personal belief either. They are not intended to hurt the sentiments of any community. They are just shreds of stories that I have heard here and there, and tried to string them together with some colors and spices added to them.

< Prev | UP | Next >

Travel stories from India

As we have wandered around various places of India, we have gathered many experiences and come across many stories from the local people. I thought of getting them recorded before they fade into my memory. I color the experiences and stories heard with a little of my imagination and some readings from the Internet and other sources. I retell the stories in my own way.

The stories gathered from the local people often involve myths and the Indian gods. Though Hindu religion is based on profound philosophy, Hindu mythology gives a human touch to its gods. They are sometimes angry, sometimes playful, sometimes they play nasty tricks and sometimes, we cannot but let smiles cross across our lips when we read about them. Some of my stories involve such mythological characters, and I try to present the stories in a lighter tone, without any disrespect intended.

I shall publish the stories in slow progression, as and when I remember one. Hope you will enjoy.

1. The Ethereal Ghost of Har-ki-Dun  
2. How Ravana was deceived by the Deva
3. The forgotten Railway of Kundala valley
4. The story of Brahmani Devi
5. The Gwalior Light Railway 
6. Mahishasura: The story of a vanquished king  
7. The oldest mosque of Viyayapura (Bijapur)
8. The ghost of Chilika
   
9. A temple for Duryodhan
   

The Ethereal Ghost of Har-ki-Dun

It was the month of October, 1997. We were exploring the Har-ki-Dun  valley at   the far corner of the hill state of Uttarakhand in India. The day was cold, with a brief snow-fall. We trekked some 14 kilometres, through the beautiful meadows and crossed dancing streams, to reach the splendid Har-ki-Dun valley by late afternoon. We took shelter in the dormitory of the tourism department rest-house that is the only man-made structure in the valley.

The meadows of Har-ki-dun

The rest-house was attended by a lonely Chowkidar  (caretaker cum guard). There was no electricity connection. It was lit by a couple of kerosene lamps that emitted more fume than light. As the evening descended, mountain chill of approaching  winter  set in the air. We braved the cold to step out in the open. It was a moonless night. The sky was lit up with a million stars, which seemed to have descended within our arms reach. We could see the dim outline of the Swargarohini (ascent to the heaven) peak in the starlight. The whole place seemed mystic and divine.

Later in the evening, we were served bowls of piping hot  Khichri  (a porridge of rice and lentil) with some fried vegetables, which we relished after the hard day’s trek. After the meal, we retired into the dormitory. The Chowkidar finished his chores, and soon after vanished somewhere, presumably in his own quarters, for the night.

The tourist guest-house at Har-ki-Dun

We were five of us in the dormitory. I, with my wife and our teenage child, and two other gentlemen, whom we befriended on the way. The kerosene lamp was turned off, and soon we took refuge under thick blankets to fight the freezing cold, and embraced sleep as the stars kept their vigilant eyes on the snow-clad mountain-peaks and on us, through the window-panes.

I do not know, how long I slept. I suddenly woke up to the melody of sitar (stringed  musical  instrument), playing somewhere nearby. Even my untrained   ears could tell that it was being played by some expert. 

I was sure that there  was  no human habitation within ten kilometres of this guest-house. Then, who was playing the sitar in the middle of nowhere and that too in the midnight?

Around me, my companies were fast asleep. They didn’t seem to have heard anything. I resisted the urge to awaken them. I  wanted to explore on my own. But, the biting cold prevented me to come out of the blanket. I lied down on my back silently and listened to the music with some unease at the back of my mind. I remembered stories of ghosts who indulge in music. I kept awake and kept on listening to the music and  … indeed, I started enjoying it. Or, was I getting intoxicated?

I do not know, how long the music continued and I kept awake. After, what it   appeared to be an eternity, the music slowed down and finally stopped. An eerie silence prevailed ...

...

...

And then came the announcement  … that appeared to be from an alien space, far far away from this world of star-lit sky, the green meadows, the dancing rivulets and   the mighty mountains   … 

“This is Akaashvani (All India Radio)  …   You have been listening to a Sitar recital by  ….”.    

Well, that had been a great maestro’s work, indeed. It must have been the Chowkidar, who had been listening to his radio set to fight his isolation of the remote place.

I had a hearty laugh at myself and went back to peaceful sleep. Next morning, when we woke up, it was broad daylight, the thought of ghosts have vanished and the majestic Swargarohini peak glistened in the morning rays  of   the  sun. When  I narrated the  story to my  companions, they too had a good laugh and admitted that they missed out on an experience.

Swargarohini Peak

< PREV | UP | NEXT >