Indian Railways presents : A Monsoon Journey through India's shortest Emotional rollercoaster

Indian Railways presents : A Monsoon Journey through India's shortest Emotional rollercoaster


The night train journey from Cuttack to Bhubaneswar during the monsoon is unlike any other—mysterious, intimate, and soaked in quiet beauty. As darkness settled over Cuttack station, the steady drizzle turned into a soft downpour, washing the platforms and turning the station lights into golden halos through the mist. Umbrellas dotted the scene like black mushrooms, and the air carried the comforting smell of wet earth and chai. When the train finally arrived, its headlights cut through the rain like twin moons, illuminating the misty night in brief flashes.

Boarding the train, everything felt muffled—voices, footsteps, even the usual clatter of metal on metal seemed quieter under the rain’s soft percussion. The coach interior glowed faintly under dim yellow lights, and windows were already fogged up by the contrast of cool air outside and warm breath inside. Outside, the world was a blur of shadows, silver raindrops, and fleeting silhouettes. The train jerked into motion, and slowly, the station disappeared into the rainy night.

The darkness outside was not empty—it was alive with shapes and movements barely visible through sheets of rain. Streetlights flickered in the distance, casting reflections on flooded streets. Trees and telegraph poles passed like ghosts in the fog. The sound of rain intensified as it hit the metal roof of the train, creating a soothing lullaby. Occasionally, lightning would streak across the sky, lighting up the carriage and the fields beyond in a blue flash that disappeared as quickly as it came.

Inside, passengers spoke in hushed tones, some resting their heads against the cool glass, others scrolling silently through their phones. A couple shared a packet of warm peanuts, their faces glowing in the faint light. The rhythmic motion of the train, combined with the rain’s steady beat, made it feel as if time had slowed down. Even the ticket collector moved with unhurried grace, his footsteps barely audible over the rain outside.

Between Cuttack and Bhubaneswar, the landscape is normally lively with village lights and roadside stalls—but tonight, everything was subdued. Occasional lamps flickered near lonely huts, and small fires burned in sheltered corners, offering warmth to figures huddled in the dark. Flooded fields stretched endlessly on either side, their water surfaces reflecting fragments of moonlight and train lights. Somewhere near Barang, the train passed over a swollen stream, its rush echoing beneath the bridge like a growl in the dark.

The slow approach to Bhubaneswar felt like drifting toward a dream. The capital city’s outskirts revealed themselves gradually—dimly lit buildings, temples silhouetted against a stormy sky, and the flash of headlights on wet roads. Rain still fell, now softer, almost like a whisper. Passengers stirred, gathering their bags, brushing sleep from their eyes. The hum of anticipation built gently, mixing with the familiar screech of brakes as the train neared its final stop.

At Bhubaneswar station, the platform glistened like glass, reflecting every light and shadow. Rain tapped steadily on the tin roof, and cool wind rushed through the station corridors. Stepping down from the train into the soaked night felt surreal—like walking out of a moving cocoon into a world suspended in time. Though only a short journey, the ride had felt vast, as if the night, rain, and rail had woven together a quiet, unforgettable passage through monsoon-drenched Odisha.