Close encounters of the political kind

If politics makes strange bedfellows, mine were the wierdest. As a student of fourth year architecture in J. J., I was lured with the promise of a free trip to new Delhi (from Mumbai-which was called Bombay back then). The catch was that I was expected to become a member of the Youth Congress by paying the membership fee of some twenty rupees. Little did I know of the strange things that were in store for me and my friends in that fateful trip.

It all started with the dear old Chandrashekhar Prabhu, who was in second year in J. J. then, marketing this idea of a free trip to Delhi to everybody who would listen. The year was 1974, and Sanjay Gandhi was the new son on the political horizon of India. Chandrashekhar Prabhu came from a family of politicians (his mother was MLA), and he was already a youth congress leader. It was to proclaim Sanjay Gandhi as a national leader of the youth, that a rally was organised in Delhi, and congressmen all over the nation were called to collect as many youths as posible and send them to New Delhi for the rally. It was to be the biggest show of strength for Sanjay Gandhi who had ambitions to become the next Prime Minister of India.

So the Youth Congress leaders all over India organised special trains from all over India to take these youths to Delhi for a free ride-it included free transportation to the place of the rally on the first day, free lodgings and a conducted tour of Delhi on the next day.

From J. J. we collected a group of ten-I only remember Gokhale who was in second year then and think that Chandru (R. Chandrashekhar) & Sarang Belapure were also there but I am not so sure now. None (except Prabhu) was keen to join the rally, and we decided to leave the congress youths immediately on arrival to Delhi, go sightseeing for two days, and join the train on its journey back to Bombay. Bombay Delhi train journey used to cost about Rs. 50.00 in those days, so we counted on a net saving of Rs. 80.00, and were happy with the thought.

But the onward journey proved troublesome, as we did not carry any food, nor was it organised by the Youth Congress. The entire train consisting of young men & women-not carrying any food, created havoc at every station that the train stopped. There would be a large crowding at almost all the food stalls, and we could not get through, and could not get anything to eat for the entire journey.

When the train reached Delhi in the early hours, we were all very tired, without any sleep, and very very hungry but all the same decided to catch the first train to Agra. This was a good train, with catering inside, and though our outward appearance must have seemed bizzare to the other passengers, we nevertheless enjoyed to food and the ride.

Getting down at Agra, we hired a taxi and had a tour of Fatehpur Sikri. It was raining very hard, and I remember saying that we should be thankful to the God that water is transperent, a comment that endeared me to my collegues who were (as usual) complaining that I talked too much.

In the evening, we came back to Agra and had our fill of Taj Mahal. In 1974 there were no hastles at the entry or anywhere in the campus. Taj Mahal in those days used to be open to visitors till late night, and I distinctly remember the moonlit Tajmahal even today. Back in Delhi, we had friends in Delhi IIT, and we stayed there as guests. The next day we spent going about Delhi, and before joining the train in the evening bought enough food for the return journey.

The return journey was not remarkable till we came to Balsad (a small station in Gujrath), as we did not venture out of the train-the onward journey had proved it was not worth the effort. But at Balsad, the train stopped for quite some time, there was a lot of shouting, and a whole army of policemen got into the train, arresting everybody. We had no idea what was happening, and there was no question of resistance. We were carried to the police station. The only thing that I remember out of the entire episode is that I tried to argue with the policemen that we did not know what happened at the station and had nothing to do with it anyway, and received a kick in response. That shut me off completely.

The police station was a nice little building with a small lock-up, but it could accommodate only about 5 people. There was no way they could put the entire mob of 2000 students anywhere, except in open ground, and then of course somebody must have intervened, as we were again escorted back to the train in the evening. In total we were at Balsad for about 5 to 6 hours.

When I went back to Bombay, I found out that the incident was very much in news as the opposition parties had taken it up. Newspaper reports alleged that the youths from our train had enjoyed the food on the railway stations along the route without bothering to pay, taking advantage of the chaos. Hence on the return journey, the stall holders were in wait for a show-down. The resulting fights must have led to police intervention described above.

The only thing I salvaged out of the incident was the model of Taj Mahal I had bought at Agra, which was dutifully posted to Bombay by the vendor. It turned out that the model of Taj Mahal had none of the glamour that we had witnessed in Agra. In a way, it was to serve as a metaphor for our entire journey to Delhi.