essay on robbery on a running train
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It was the winter season. I was travelling by train, running at full speed. Stations passed one after another. The train halted at a few stations only. By nightfall I was some two hundred miles away from my city. The train was now heading for Mughal Sand an important railway junction on the Eastern The compartment in which I had taken my seat was a small one. Most of the passengers were either sleeping or dozing. I was the only one who was still wide awake.
Just then there appeared a man. He quietly opened the door and came in. He looked around. He was followed by some others. They had pistols in their hands and wore masks. One of them who seemed to be their leader ordered the passengers to raise their hands up or he would shoot them. All turned pale. None dared utter a cry. They looked helplessly at one another.
The dacoits snatched whatever they could. They ransacked the boxes. The women cried and wailed but it was of no avail. One of the passengers tried to grapple with them but they stabbed him dead. By this time the train had become slow. It seemed it was nearing a station. As soon as it stopped, the dacoits jumped out and disappeared in the darkness of the night.
As soon as they were gone, the passengers wailed and cried. One of them ran to the station master to inform him of the robbery. The station master came to the compartment with the station staff. Other passengers also gathered there. Very soon there was a large crowd of people. No one thought of giving a chase to the dacoits. The dead body was removed and sent for post-mortem examination. The dacoits ran away with the booty. The police dared not follow them. The train moved on. The passengers were left sobbing over their loss. I still remember the day. The very thought makes me shudder. It was indeed a lucky escape from being murdered.
A Robbery On A Running Train
Robberies or cries are very frequent today. I had a bitter experience of the same.
Once I was going by Frontier Mail form Delhi to Amritsar. It was a cold night. The train was running at full speed. The trees, houses, poles were wheeling back. The stations were passing one after another. The train halted at only selected stations. Some persons were dozing some others were reading novels, magazines and newspapers; some of them were playing cards, some were discussing important political matters and burning questions of the day and some of them were gossiping and chatting. The train was now heading for an important station of Shahabad Markanda.
All of a sudden I saw some person quietly entering the compartment. They had rifles and sharp knives in their hands and had covered their faces with cloth. One of the dacoits ordered the passengers to raise their hands up or they would be shot dead. The faces of all passengers turned pale and without uttering word, raised their hands. The dacoits took whatever they could and snatched whoever resisted. The women and children were crying but the dacoits turned a deaf ear to their cries and shrieks. One of the passengers resisted to give his valuables but soon they stabbed him to death. In the end, they pulled the chain and ran away in the jungle in the cover of darkness when the train stopped.
The guard came to our compartment and found the condition of the passengers miserable. He asked the reason from the weeping women and crying children. By the time many passengers had come out of their compartment and gathered outside our compartment. No one dared to chase the dacoits. The dead body of the passenger was removed and sent for the postmortem examination by the railway police.
It was a pathetic scene. I was cursing the time when I deiced to go for this journey. I continuously thought about the dead passenger and his pathetic death. At the same time it was a narrow escape for all others including me.
The dacoits had run away with the looted booty. The police after searching here and there, left the idea of chasing them. The train again moved on. No one cared for the passengers who had been robbed.