The Magic Train
Cupertino, CA
2024, Junior, Creative Writing
Several years have passed since I visited my grandparents’ house in Latur, India: a small town where my Dad and generations before him grew up. As my six-year-old self took a breath of the hot, rich Indian air, the sounds of bustling streets and honking cars filled my ears. Above me, darkness crept into the corners of the evening sky.
My family and I walked into the house, and a smile grew on my face as the scents of Indian spices greeted us. Stepping into the kitchen, I watched my grandmother intricately roll dough to make rotis. Once finished, she served the rotis with various curries. However, before I could eat I saw dozens of pots and pans stacked on top of one another in the sink and on the floor. Dazzled by the food, I ignored the strange scene and began to eat. Tangy, spicy, flavors burst into my mouth, and I quickly devoured my entire plate.
Later, my grandfather took me from room to room, and suddenly, I noticed more pots scattered around the house, filled with gallons of water. Full of questions, I could not understand why there was so much water everywhere. Confused yet curious, I asked my grandfather in Marathi, my mother tongue, about it:
“Why are there pots with water everywhere?”
He looked at me with an odd face, a mixture of fondness and shock, admiring my innocence about the world outside of America.
“Tomorrow at 7:00 AM, I will show you the magic train. For now, it’s time to go to bed.” That night, eager anticipation filled me while I tried to sleep. As I drifted off, I slept with excitement.
The next morning, I woke up early to the sounds of honking cars and the smell of freshly brewed chai. I quickly got dressed and rushed to meet my grandfather outside.
After twenty minutes of navigating through the buzzing streets of Latur, we finally arrived to see hundreds of women wearing colorful saris, hundreds of men wearing kurtas, hundreds of signs written in Marathi, and hundreds of tracks forming the railway.
I wandered around, examining my surroundings as my eyebrows furrowed with thought. But still, “Why are we here?” I asked, puzzled.
Suddenly I heard a distant rumble and the loud noise of a ringing bell. The ground seemed to vibrate, and suddenly, a train approached. It was a majestic sight of enormous pale green barrels set against the arid land. My eyes followed its path as I watched it slow down like a graceful serpent.
People began to gather around, rushing with pots, pans, buckets, and containers in their
hands.
“There.” My grandfather pointed to the train, his eyes twinkling, “That’s why we’re here.”
“What about it? Why is everyone surrounding it?” I asked, curiously.
“Latur has been facing a severe drought, and this is the magic train called the Jaldoot, which means ‘water messenger.’ It brings water to the city. The dams that provide drinking water have dried up, so we get water only once every ten to twelve days” (“First Water” 0:00:40).
Although that day I did not truly realize what my grandfather was trying to explain to me, I knew it was a significant problem, and that the water supply was depleting. At home in California, I could get water from the sink every single day, and I always took long showers without another thought. How did I never know that people were facing such problems? And how did droughts even begin? I pondered, worriedly.
Noticing my puzzled expression, my grandfather explained further: “Some things are changing on our planet. One big change is that it’s getting warmer. This change is called climate change, which affects the weather. Some places might get more rain than before, while others might get less rain. It is called a drought when it does not rain enough for a long time. Latur has not seen rain for the past 3 years” (Biswas).
While he was speaking, I noticed more people rushing to gather around the train, filling pots and barrels with water from the pipes. Their faces began to soften with relief like the train was a miracle. Women balanced pots on their heads, children holding small containers, and men with large barrels. The scene was full of activity as everyone worked together to collect as much water as possible before the train departed.
That day, I realized that the true miracle was not the train, but the water.
Works Cited
Biswas, Soutik. “Searching for water in drought-hit Latur.” BBC, 25 Apr. 2016, www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-36108798. Accessed 31 May 2024.
“First Water Train To Reach Latur.” YouTube, uploaded by Times of India, 11 Apr. 2016, www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_tCdZdbmZA. Accessed 31 May 2024.
Reflection
Reflection
Creating my submission for the Bow Seat Competition allowed me to reflect deeply and learn more about climate change. During a phone call with my grandparents, they mentioned the heat records in Latur being broken every single year. They reminded me of a drought that had occurred in India when I visited seven years ago. This memory inspired me to write about pressing issues like droughts and water shortages in small cities that are often ignored or overlooked. In this story, I illustrated the contrast between the abundance of water I had taken for granted in California and the scarcity faced by the people in Latur. Additionally, my research increased my understanding of weather patterns and climate change, making me more aware of the importance of conserving natural resources. Throughout my journey of writing my story for this competition, I have gained a stronger appreciation for the simple aspects of life. I believe that the power of storytelling connects our society, and I hope to inspire greater awareness about climate change and the impact of our actions on the environment.