Triveni Journal
1927 | 11,233,916 words
Triveni is a journal dedicated to ancient Indian culture, history, philosophy, art, spirituality, music and all sorts of literature. Triveni was founded at Madras in 1927 and since that time various authors have donated their creativity in the form of articles, covering many aspects of public life....
Oh, how I miss the whistle of the Frontier Mail
The train that could travel like a tropical gale.
Starting in Peshawar, it comes up to Lahore.
From its decorated engine black smoke does pour
As it flies through Punjab with a marvelous roar,
Bearing peasants, Pathans, Sahibs and troubadour.
From Lahore to Jalandhar it would wind its way,
This veritable Queen of the Indian Railway,
Zooming through the country side without a delay,
Looking forward to ending its trip in Bombay.
Amballa, Sharanpur, Meerut and Delhi,
She will make her way like a busy honeybee,
Its passengers devouring mango and litchi,
Drinking hundreds of gallons of chai and lassi.
From Mathura, Kota, Baroda to Surat,
Through fields of soyabean, sugarcane and peanut;
One can spy in the distance, groves of coconut,
And beside the railroad, the farmer and his hut.
Children run along and wave at this black beauty,
Men stop and ogle at her like it’s their sweetie,
This train won’t stop at a request or entreaty,
As it whistles its way into Bombay V.T.
Now you see it steaming into VTs compound,
Its two-legged cargo gets its feet on the ground,
With the rest of a day, it will be turned around,
And home to Peshwar, this train will be bound.
Oh, how I miss the whistle of the Frontier Mail,
The train that could travel like a tropical gale.