Anatomy of a Train Journey | Sreejith K

A Canine tale from the Raj which reveals the fault lines in society at that time

On 20th March, 1939, in the Central Legislative Assembly, Badri Dutt Pandey, raised a question regarding the misdemeanour of the men of Kameshwar Singh, the last Maharaja of Darbhanga during a train journey, and wanted to know what the government intended to do about it. Pandey had already made a mark in the freedom struggle through his role in the Coolie-Begar movement, and had suffered long imprisonment during which he produced a widely referred book on the History of Kumaon. But, on this occasion, his ire was not directed against the British, but towards someone who, as the nation headed towards independence, represented a group which stood in the way of a united and democratic India of the future. On his objection to the illegitimate nature of the journey and the public nuisance thereby caused, the Railway Member would reply that he would gather information about the incident from the concerned Railway officials and, based on that, take necessary action. [1]

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The episode in question took place on 9th February during a train journey Kameshwar Singh undertook from Delhi to Lucknow in a first-class compartment of 117 Up Delhi Express. He, however, was not travelling alone. In a third-class bogie of the same train, sat his retinue of 22 men with no less than 11 dogs. The royal trip continued undeterred until at the Gajroula station, the M.L.A., Chowdhury Vijaipal Singh, travelling on the same train with an intermediate class ticket, on hearing of the Raja’s men not allowing other passengers from entraining, decided to travel in that very third-class bogie, and got the railway staff to shift the dogs onto a brake van. The commotion caused, as per the complaint registered by Singh at Hapur railway station with the Railway Police, a delay of no less than thirty minutes.

The worlds inhabited by the white colonizers and the natives were vastly different, and that contrast got amply reflected in the uneven levels of comfort available inside first class compartments where only the former had access, and the rest. In a symbolic sense, the scenes enacted in those three compartments of 117 UP Delhi Express train heading to the capital of the country on that particular day mirrored the way the Congress-led national movement was panning out at the time wherein leaders from the intermediate class, on behalf of the masses, would raise their voice against the tyranny of the raj and the rajas.

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In the hierarchical worldview that permeated the minds of colonial officials, perceptions of difference and resultant partiality extended, it seems, to dogs as well. At a time when cases of rabies were on the increase, they had no time for stray dogs, and, would provide instructions through occasional government circulars on how best to exterminate them. In one such circular issued by the Madras government in 1916, it was pointed out that the best option was to shoot and bury them at the nearest rubbish depot, or else, to ask designated castes to club them to death. [2] Under no circumstances, it was advised, should strychnine be used anymore since there was the possibility of crows scattering the poison.

This brutal policy was in sharp contrast to the rather generous attitude the authorities took when it came to imported dogs owned by influential individuals. Once, after he was fined for not possessing a ticket for his Scottish terrier in spite of an extra ticket he had bought for himself to occupy a coupe while travelling from Delhi to Howrah, F.M. Wilson, the American Consul General shot off a letter to the Secretary, Railway Board, complaining of the harassment he had faced on the trip. In reply, he was offered apologies and a refund as well as the promise to amend the relevant rules. [3] Similarly, when Edward Von Selzam, Vice-Consul attached to the German Consulate-General in Calcutta, sought permission to bring his terrier from home, the India Office in London assured him that a landing permit was not required for a dog entering India from Europe so long as a vet certified its health before embarking. [4]

The dogs travelling with Kameshwar Singh on that bumpy ride of his we began the story with were not ordinary mongrels, and like the pets of the American and German diplomats, consisted of foreign breeds including some Crufts champions. [5] Going by the past record of colonial officialdom in similar circumstances, there was a certain inevitability about the Enquiry Report. In his findings after a probe, the General Manager, Eastern Railways wrote to the Secretary, Railway Board, that the Raja’s men had not prevented other passengers from entraining, and that the delay caused by the commotion did not last for more than a mere nineteen minutes! The letter, instead, recommended action to be taken against the “ticket checking staff at Lucknow, the point where the Maharaja entrained, and the travelling Ticket Examiners of the train” who “are primarily responsible for not having checked the train properly, whereby this incident could have been avoided.” [6] Not for the first time in colonial India, in a tight corner, men of the same class, though of different races, had closed ranks.

(Author: Sreejith K is associated with Dr APJ Abdul Kalam Government College, Kolkata)