'eurailed' in loco-engine!

..from Bratislava to Budapest:

“Your train will arrive on this platform only.” The man sitting on the next bench spoke in broken English. But my wife was not convinced, and she insisted that I make an inquiry in the main reservation office. That big man, biting sandwiches and taking sips of coke, again asserted that- “the train is 20 minutes late, and it will arrive here only.” However, Namita had all the reasons to be skeptical …How can he understand our language? Or did he pick up just few English words of our conversation in Guajarati, and misunderstood for something else? How can he be so precise in providing us this information? We both had travelled in Central Europe by Eurail, some couple of years back, but had not come across any delay of more than a minute in any of some thirty train journeys in those three weeks. And then Namita’s concern was rational- we could not afford to miss this train, lest it disturb our further itinerary.

That was the morning of 6th August, 2008, and we were at Bratislava Hlavana Stanica [main station] to catch the train of '9.40 AM to Budapest', coming from Prague. We had already purchased Eastern Europe’s Rail pass from Ahmedabad only, and was valid for five days in a fortnight. We had arrived in Bratislava on the previous day. Unexpectedly, that short stay turned out to be an excellent experience and one of the best days of the whole trip.

I approached that burly man and conveyed my doubts about the authenticity of his information. He looked back at the group of ticket checkers [?] in blue uniform, shared with them something in Slovak [?] language, and then everybody erupted in big laughter. Not to embarrass me further, he immediately clarified and revealed that he is the Locomotive Driver of The Federal Railway of Slovakia, and he is the one 'on duty' for the next shift, to ride the train, further ahead to Hungary. We introduced ourselves. He, along with that ‘navy blue bunch’, were curious and quite entertained to see me shooting with my camera-all those odd shots and pictures - like timetables written in local script, manhole covers around and on the platforms, iron works of that very old, historical railway station and what not. [We jocularly quote that during travel – ‘mis-s-pacing’ ,‘cros-swords’ and-‘klicking’ are the best ways of time ‘ckilling’….]

When the train was about to enter the station, Gabriel [by now we knew each other’s names] suddenly offered me –if I am interested in travelling with him in his engine cabin of the train. Long back, during my college days, I was compelled to jump, with two other friends in that ‘sooty’ cabin of engine driver from Londha to Miraj, to catch a running train, on the way back from Goa. In vivid contrast, Namita and I travelled in the sleek and posh cabin, adjoining and almost a part of ‘high-tec-cockpit-like’ engine of ICE train –a superfast from Freiberg to Cologne, ‘flying’ at speed of 240kms/hour. Then also we had chance to converse with the ‘engine drivers’.

Needless to say I did not let go this unique opportunity. After all, it’s been said-“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing and experiencing things.” And for me, this one hour was going to be more than a experience with this naïve Slovak, who wanted to ‘feed’ me, more than I could ‘digest’.

--That train no.131 had left from Prague, some 4.20 hours back, and was late from the start only. Sturovo [read-Stur.jo.vo] on Hungary border was 135 kms away from here, and Budapest some 68 kms further.

--The locomotive engine-no: 350007, was 1.3 mega wats power having double systems [?] It was 25 years old, of older Czeko-Slovakia Rail, and now belonged to Slovak Railway, after the partition in 1993. Speed limit was just 140 kms per hour and nobody liked such ‘old –horses’ to drive. [..grumble].Most of the trains had better and advanced diesel engines than this.

--He was Gabriel Morowich-an engine driver by profession since 1970, happily married man, conservative Christian and regular church-goer. Andrea Morowich [30 yrs] -elder of his two daughters ,was a doctor, having worked in Sudan for Red Cross for 3 years, and now working in Hrade Kralove, Poliklinika, in Slovakia. He wrote for me all these difficult sounding, and even more difficult to spell names in my note book. In return I also scribbled the probable diagnosis of his nail-problem on the back of his ‘rule-book’-as ?.onichomycosis and jokingly told him that somebody may mistake it for the name of the railway station. I could make out that his medico daughter must not be, at least a Dermatologist! He took quite a time and many gestures to convey that she was an Anesthetist. Like this-our game of ‘Dumb Sherad’ continued for quite a while.

He decided not to take chance at the border of Slovakia-Hungary, and asked me to get down and return back to my compartment at the previous small station- Nove Zamky. Before thanking him profusely, I asked him the last question –why did he take the risk to carry me in the cabin where civilians are not supposed to travel? He responded-“To give you the chance to take better pictures from the best angle. After all, you are a medical doctor like my daughter!” I bade Gabriel Maj Sa [Good Bye in Slovak], having learnt from him just few minutes back and jumped down the ‘loco’.