The Journey That Taught Me Life
The Journey Between Two Worlds
It was another beautiful morning.
At exactly 4:00 AM, my alarm rang and pulled me out of sleep. By now, this sound had become familiar to me. It was no longer just an alarm—it had almost become the beginning of my everyday life.
I got ready and left for Haibargaon Railway Station to catch my usual train, the Mairabari–Guwahati Passenger (55604).
The morning was quiet. I waited on the platform for a few minutes, and then, just as expected, my train arrived. That day, everything was running according to time.
I boarded the train and began another journey towards Guwahati.
The train carried me through the familiar landscape until it reached Chaparmukh Junction. I got down there, knowing that my journey was not over yet.
Within a couple of minutes, the passenger train started moving again, leaving the platform behind me.
I stood at Chaparmukh Junction and waited for my next train—the Kamrup Express (15960).
While I was waiting, I noticed that the Ledo Intercity Express (15604) was running late. After some time, it finally arrived at the station.
For a moment, I could have taken that train.
But I was waiting for the Kamrup Express.
So I stayed.
Seven minutes later, my train arrived.
I boarded it.
Usually, I like travelling in the general compartment. There is something special about a general compartment. It is crowded, noisy and unpredictable, but it is also full of stories. People talk to strangers, families discuss their daily lives, someone is always laughing, someone is always arguing, and someone is always travelling for a reason you may never know.
If you want to hear the stories of ordinary people, the general compartment is sometimes the best place to sit.
But that day, I did something different.
The general compartment was crowded, so I noticed that one of the sleeper compartments was almost empty. I entered that compartment and found a seat.
I sat near the window.
For a while, I kept looking around, half-expecting the TTE to appear and ask about the seat. At the same time, I looked outside the window and allowed the passing scenery to become part of the journey.
The train moved through the familiar route.
Then we approached Jagiroad.
The train did not stop there that day, but as we passed the station, I looked towards a particular house.
There was something about that house that had become familiar to me during my daily journeys.
Almost every day, I had seen an elderly grandmother sitting there.
She would simply sit and watch the trains pass.
Day after day.
Train after train.
I had never spoken to her.
She probably didn't know that I had noticed her.
Yet, somehow, she had become a small part of my daily journey.
But that day, she wasn't there.
I looked again.
Nothing.
The place where she usually sat was empty.
It was such a small thing, but it surprised me.
Where was she today?
I don't know why her absence affected me.
Perhaps it was because when you see something repeatedly, it quietly becomes part of your world. You begin to expect it without even realizing it.
That grandmother had become one of those things for me.
And suddenly, her absence made me notice how much we take familiar things for granted.
The train continued towards Guwahati.
At around 9:00 AM, I reached Guwahati Railway Station and started walking towards my university.
The city was already awake.
People were moving everywhere. Vehicles filled the roads. Shops were opening, students were heading towards their colleges, and the city was beginning another busy day.
I reached the university and attended my classes.
But that day, my classroom journey would end earlier than usual.
My classes continued until around 1:00 PM.
After that, I had somewhere else to go.
The High Court.
I left the university and began my journey towards the court.
I reached the High Court at around 1:50 PM.
Whenever I go there, I feel that I am entering a different world.
The classroom teaches me law through books, cases and discussions.
The High Court shows me how that law exists in the real world.
Every visit teaches me something new.
The people.
The arguments.
The procedures.
The atmosphere.
The way lawyers present their cases.
The way legal questions become real problems in people's lives.
I find it genuinely interesting, and I enjoy every opportunity to learn there.
That day was no different.
I spent some time doing my work and observing what was happening around me. By around 3:00 PM, my work at the High Court was finished.
It was time to return.
I made my way back towards the railway station.
The Kamrup Express was running a little late that day, but I managed to catch it. After taking my ticket, I boarded the train and began the journey back towards Chaparmukh Junction.
This time, there was no comfortable empty sleeper compartment.
The train was packed.
So I travelled in the general compartment.
The entire compartment was filled with people.
There is something strange about travelling in a crowded train. You may be surrounded by dozens of people, yet you know almost nothing about them.
Everyone is carrying something.
A bag.
A phone.
A worry.
A responsibility.
A destination.
A story.
I stood and sat wherever there was space, watching the world outside the window.
And then I saw something that made the entire journey feel different.
As the train moved between Guwahati and Chaparmukh, I noticed a cremation ground outside the window.
I had seen cremation grounds before, but I had never actually witnessed a cremation taking place.
That day, for the first time, I saw people being cremated.
The sight stopped my thoughts for a moment.
The train kept moving, but my mind stayed behind.
I began asking myself questions.
What exactly is life?
Where does all our running eventually take us?
Every morning, I wake up at 4:00 AM.
I run to catch a train.
I travel to Guwahati.
I attend classes.
I go to the High Court.
I study.
I think about my future.
I return home late at night.
Every day, we are moving towards something.
But one day, all of us will stop moving.
Watching that cremation from the train window made those thoughts feel strangely real.
I had spent the entire day travelling between places—my home, the university, the High Court and the railway station.
I had been thinking about studies, work and the future.
And suddenly, outside the window, I was reminded of the one destination that awaits every human being.
The train continued moving.
The cremation ground slowly disappeared behind me.
But the questions remained.
Maybe this is one of the strange things about travelling.
Sometimes you travel a hundred kilometres and come back with nothing more than tiredness.
And sometimes, you travel the same route you've travelled many times before—and suddenly see something that makes you think about your entire life.
Eventually, I reached Chaparmukh Junction.
I waited for my next train to Nagaon.
I actually enjoy waiting at major railway junctions.
There is something about them that makes time feel different.
Trains arrive.
Trains depart.
Passengers get down.
Others rush towards the platforms.
Some people say goodbye.
Some people meet again.
Announcements echo through the station.
And before you realize it, hours have passed.
Whenever I sit at a major junction and watch trains constantly arriving and leaving, I lose track of time.
Perhaps that is why I don't always dislike waiting at a railway station.
There is always something happening.
Eventually, the Guwahati–Silghat Town DEMU (75729) arrived.
I boarded the train and finally began the last part of my journey towards home.
As the train moved towards Nagaon, I looked outside the window again.
The day that had started at 4:00 AM was slowly coming to an end.
Another long journey.
Another day in Guwahati.
Another classroom.
Another visit to the High Court.
Another train.
Another crowd.
Another set of faces.
And another lesson.
Sometimes, when I travel to a big city like Guwahati, I feel that time moves differently there.
The hours disappear.
Morning becomes afternoon.
Afternoon becomes evening.
And before I realize it, I am already on a train returning home.
Perhaps that is what this journey is teaching me.
The destination may be the same every day.
Haibargaon to Guwahati. Guwahati to Nagaon.
But the story is never the same.
Every day brings a different person.
A different face.
A different conversation.
A different sight through the window.
And sometimes, a different question about life.
That is why I keep travelling.
Not only because I have somewhere to go,
but because every journey seems to have something to tell me.
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