The Goa train traveller from Bombay started from the train terminus which was then Dadaron the Central Railway route. The destination for this train was Poona.
The Bombay to Poona route was very scenic as the train passed through the Western Ghats. Until the blasting of a tunnel through the Ghats to make way for the Konkan Railway, the train used to go on tracks that wound along the sides of the mountains. The Ghats in those days were absolutely stunning. The train used to stop somewhere along the base and add another locomotive at the rear to take the load of the steep climb. The locos were coal fed, ran on steam and were manned by hardy drivers and assistant engineers. The AEs essentially shoveled coal into the furnace and steered the engine when the driver wanted a break. Both were either Goan or Anglo-Indian. The first major stop would be at Khandala which was atop these Ghats. At the station the local Adivasi (tribal) folk would be waiting to sell you berries called carvandas and small fruit known as love-apples. These were crunchy, full of water and delicious. There were also jambuls, fresh cashew apples and a host of other hillside produce. If the train happened to stop to replenish water for the steam, savvy passengers used the stop to hop out of carriages and pluck this same produce from the trees on the hillside. Nature was so bountiful and so pristine that I regret that children of those passengers would never get the same opportunity to do that for themselves. The next stop would be Lonavla which was the famous chikki (peanut brittle) place. Hawkers would come rushing at the train with their packets of assorted chikki containing just peanuts, sesame or split peas or the more expensive type that contained almonds, pistachios and cashew nuts. The cashew nut chikki was the most expensive and the best tasting. All these were made by Parsi and Bania (Gujarati) small scale industries in Lonavla town. Cooper and Co was the gold standard. After about 5 hours from Bombay and once at Poona it was time to switch trains and railway. The broad-gauge Central Railway made way for the narrow gauge South Western Railway. The carriages here were older and less well maintained. If one did not have reservations, or even if one did, you had to engage the services of the coolies who formed a tightly run Poona Station Mafia to extort money from the Goan traveller. These were hardy Ghatis, sturdy Maharattta men from the ghats who could strap two steel trunks (the mode of luggage) on their backs and be none the worse for it. If you complained to the Police they would disappear to reappear before the train would leave and to complete their extortion. This was the real grunt part of the journey - always overnight and taking at least 24 hours or so from Poona. The destination was Castle Rock. Londa was a major halt before you reached your destination. Both Londa and Castle Rock fall in North Kanara district of today's Karnataka State. In those days it was still part of Bombay Province before Nehru decided to rewrite the boundaries of his states to reflect linguistic majorities. Once you entered Londa in Kanara the awsome smells of fresh coffee and medu vadas overwhelmed you. Kanara is famous for their idlis, vadas and the coffee from the Coorg plantations. Till today I am of the opinion that neither Javan, Brazilian, Kenyan or Colombian coffee can hold a candle to unadulterated fresh Mysore coffee. There was no tiifin required and none carried. Tasty and cheap food was available at all railway stations, a welcome break from home food and with its own favor reflecting the area through which the trains travelled. After Londa you terminated the train part of the journey at Castle Rock. From here you took other modes of tranportation either local ferry or bus to Majali which was the end point of India and the customs for Portuguese Goa. Majali is a beautiful hamlet with clean beaches and near Karwar town. When going to Goa, there was no real customs check at Majali, that would come on the way back. You had to walk across no-man's land for about 500 to 600 meters with porters carrying your trunks. The long and arduous trial came at Collem (now Kolamb). That was when the Portuguese checked your papers for entry into Goa. The border post was manned by a mix of Goan and Portuguese (most non-commissioned ranks) police and soldiers. There were long queues of women folk as the men took off to the two bars in business at the checkpost. There was loud talk from all drinkers and boasting from the Goan custom, police and soldier ranks to impress the import starved Bombay Goan. They also drank beer although they were on duty. I suppose the Portuguese allowed it. I remember a Portuguese non-com being quite rude at the crowd of ladies who spoke English and Konkani and were quite restive and tired from the long journey. My mother who was fluent in Portuguese shot back at him and asked if she should complain about his behaviour to his officer. That immediately quietened him into being polite. I was proud of her taking to authority like that. In those days few dared to do it. Once through customs and exchanging rupees for escudoes, we queued for a bus to Margao. It was a caminhao really. An old rickety Ford seating about 20 people which was more than it's capacity. It could do no more than 40 kmph with it's engine complaining all the way. At every climb I thought we would have to get up and walk or the engine would breathe its last, but we reached Margao without worry. Of equal concern was the driver. Any one in Goa's Portuguese days would know the dare devilry of the drivers of vehicles in Goa. That by the way is a Portuguese trait. Even in Toronto, the younger Portuguese drive like maniacs in their neighborhoods. The police make constant rounds there, collecting a lot of fines. The country roads on the route were narrow but very scenic. We had to pass Dudhsagar if I am not mistaken. One beautiful village after another that ended in colonial Margao. A small town that was almost home and such a difference from Bombay. Roland. On Mon, Mar 14, 2011 at 9:14 AM, Carvalho <[email protected]> wrote: > I would be most grateful if someone could give me some information, > recollections, stories of what trains ran between Goa and Bombay, early 1950s. > What was the route they took, did they stop on the way, where did they arrive, > and those Goans travelling on them, where did they go when they got off. Did > the > Goans carry their own tiffins on the train. > Which station did they depart from and which station did they arrive at. Which > day of the week. > Many, many thanks, look forward to reading your wonderful anecdotes. > best, selma -- Roland Francis +1 (416) 453.3371
