“The Train to Grandma’s House — A Journey That Still Lives in My Heart”

A small childhood trip that left a lifelong memory.

“Every time I hear a train whistle, I don’t just hear the sound. I see a little boy, sitting by the window, munching peanuts and asking his mother, ‘How much longer till Grandma’s house?'”

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The Night Before — Bags Packed, Heart Racing

There was something magical about the night before the journey.
Mom would be packing clothes, dad would be buying the tickets — and me?
I’d be jumping around the house, asking a hundred times:
“When are we leaving?”
Our bags weren’t just full of clothes — they were full of excitement.
Mom always kept:

  • Homemade parathas and pickles
  • A packet of biscuits
  • One towel
  • And my favorite black sunglasses — which I only wore at Grandma’s house.

The Railway Station — Where Every Kid Becomes a Hero

The station had its own rhythm.
The tea vendor shouting “Chaiii chaiii garammm chaiii!”,
The smell of samosas, roasted corn, and childhood in the air.
Toy sellers, peanut vendors, noise, chaos, and joy.

But I only cared about one thing —
The window seat.
And if I got it, I felt like I’d won the lottery.

The Train Ride — Full of Food, Fun & Grandma’s Memories

As the train started to move, I pressed my face against the window bars.
Mom opened the food box — cold parathas never tasted better.
I shelled peanuts, looked at the endless fields flying by,
And thought only one thing:
“What will Grandma cook today? Halwa or her famous parathas?”

The train had a story of its own:

  • Unknown faces and friendly smiles
  • That toilet door which never shut properly 😅
  • And the temptation to pull that emergency chain (but mom’s stare was enough to kill that thought!)

Grandma’s House — The Final Stop, The First Home

When Dad said, “Wake up, we’ve reached,”
I’d jump up first, as if Grandma was waiting right at the platform.

Her hug — tighter than any blanket.
Her voice — full of love: “My little prince has arrived!”
And of course — warm halwa waiting on the table.

No 5-star hotel in the world could match that welcome.

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Those Few Days — A Lifetime in Disguise

At Grandma’s house:
No homework.
No alarms.
No rules.

Just:

  • Playing cricket in the street
  • Bathing in the river with cousins
  • Listening to bedtime stories while lying on Grandma’s lap

Life was simple, small, and so big at the same time.

Today, When I See a Train…

Today, I’ve grown up.
Deadlines, office, EMI, stress — all part of life now.
But sometimes, when a train passes by —
I’m no longer the man with responsibilities.

I’m that little boy again —
Window seat, peanut shells on my lap, eyes full of wonder,
On the way to Grandma’s house.

Childhood Didn’t End — It’s Just Sitting Quietly in That Train

“Life moved on, but somewhere deep inside, that train still runs — and my heart is still on that journey to Grandma’s house.”
“It wasn’t just a trip — it was a feeling. A memory. A home.”

The Joint Family — Where Love Was Loud & Laughter Was Free

Grandma’s house was not just hers.
It was a house full of people, love, and chaos.

There were:

  • Uncles who pulled your cheeks
  • Aunts who fed you like you hadn’t eaten for years
  • Cousins who became teammates in gully cricket
  • And one elder cousin who always acted like “Dad” of the group!

We’d sleep 4 kids in one bed, fight over pillows, and end up hugging in sleep.
No AC, no Wi-Fi, just love, fights, games, and complete belongingness.

Those Summers — Of Mango Trees, Flying Kites, & Never Wanting to Come Back

Summers meant:

  • Climbing the mango tree barefoot
  • Helping dadi in the kitchen just to steal laddoos
  • Playing carrom, cards, and antakshari after dinner
  • Taking a bath under the handpump
  • Sleeping on the terrace watching stars, making wishes

We didn’t need PlayStations.
We had real friends, real games, and real memories.

Summers weren’t just a season —
they were a celebration of everything raw, real, and magical.

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The Mango Tree Was Our Disneyland

There was a giant mango tree in the backyard at Grandma’s house.
It wasn’t just a tree — it was our jungle gym, our hideout, our secret clubhouse.
Climbing barefoot, slipping on the bark, someone keeping watch if an elder came.
Plucking raw mangoes, biting into them with salt-mirch sprinkled —
that taste? No fruit ever matched it.
Even today, Alphonso feels dull in front of those stolen kaccha aam.

🪁 Kites in the Sky, Screams on the Roof

Every afternoon, we’d run up to the terrace with charkhi and manja.
The sky would be full of colors — blue, red, orange, green.
Kites would fly, friends would scream:

“Woh kaat diya! Abey sambhal!”
“Dheel de re, aur dheeray kheench!”

If one kite went down, ten more went up.
Our hands would bleed with manja cuts,
but our hearts — they only knew victory, rivalry, and endless sky.

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🌧️ When Rain Fell, We Danced Like Nobody Watched

When clouds roared and rain poured,
we didn’t run inside — we ran outside!
Slipping in the mud, dancing on the terrace,
laughing like crazy kids —
because we were crazy kids.

Mummy and Grand Mother would shout from the window:

“Thand lag jaayegi, andar aa jao!”
But we didn’t listen —
because thand se zyada maza aata tha mitti ki khushboo mein bheegne ka.

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🎮 Games That Had No Screens, But Infinite Joy

There were no iPads.
But we had:

  • Langdi-taang in the gully
  • Antakshari with cousins
  • Hide & seek in the evening light
  • And that one cousin who’d always cheat in Ludo, and everyone knew 😄

No electricity? Candlelight stories.
Mosquitoes? Just part of the game.
No sleep? Who cared? It was summer. It was freedom.

Grandma’s Stories — Better Than Netflix

Every night, after dinner, we’d gather around Grandma.
She’d begin slowly:

“Ek tha raja… uske teen bete the…”

We had heard those stories a thousand times,
but each time felt like the first.
We’d sleep halfway through the story,
our heads in her lap,
and she’d continue talking…
just so we could dream better.

🛏️ 20 People, 5 Beds — And Yet, No One Slept Alone

We didn’t care about space.
We cared about togetherness.

Sheets spread on the floor,
mosquito nets hung from ceiling hooks,
and one big “good night” from Dadiji —

“Sabh log chup ho jao, kal subah jaldi uthna hai nadi mein nahane ke liye!”

And then —
someone farted.
Everyone burst out laughing.

That was home. That was love.

And When It Was Time To Leave…

The suitcase was heavier — not with clothes,
but with memories, mangoes, and a lump in the throat.
We cried quietly, waved goodbye,
and as the train left the station —
we’d already start counting the days till next summer.

That summer… was not a vacation. It was a world that can never come back.

And even today,
when I feel lost in the adult world of deadlines and responsibilities,
I close my eyes — and I’m back under that mango tree,
barefoot, sticky with aam ras,
screaming to my cousin:
“Tu pakad ke dikha pehle!”

Why Does Growing Up Mean Growing Apart?

“The ones we thought we’d grow old with — we now don’t even have their numbers saved.”

As kids, the world was simple.
Just a house with Grandma, a mango tree, some cousins, and long days filled with laughter.
That was enough.

But now?

Now we have everything —
Phones, careers, Wi-Fi, and wardrobes full of clothes…
Except we don’t have the people we once couldn’t live without.

1. Careers, Cities & Calendar Plans Replaced Connection

  • My cousin are now married
  • Chachi doesn’t call anymore.
  • Didi got married — and I dont have time to talk much
  • The cousins who once shared secrets — now just leave messages on “read”.

The relationships didn’t break —
We just grew “too busy” to water them.

We Have WhatsApp Groups — But No Real Conversations

We created a family group: “Singh Family Group”

What happens there?

  • One uncle sends “Good Morning”
  • One cousin forwards temple images
  • The rest are silent
    No real jokes, no teasing, no warmth. Just digital ghosts of a once-lively family.

Grandma’s House — Once a Kingdom of Love, Now Locked and Dusty

That house where:

  • 5 cousins shared one mattress
  • We counted stars on the terrace after dinner
  • Dadi fed us halwa with her own hands

Now:

  • Grandma is gone
  • The house is either sold… or shut
  • And the memories sit quietly in an old photo album no one opens

The walls still echo with laughter —
But no one’s there to hear it anymore.

We Grew Older… And Somehow Lonelier

We left the joint family dream behind —
Only to land in 1BHK flats with stress as our roommate.

Yes, we’ve “grown up”.
Yes, we have salaries and goals.
But inside?
We are emotionally bankrupt.

The cousin who once hugged you without a reason?
Now replies with a dry “👍” emoji.

There Are Crowds — But No One Feels Like “Home” Anymore

At weddings, we meet.
We smile for selfies.
We say “Stay in touch”.
But inside, there’s a gap.

That Chacha who once lifted you on his shoulders at the village fair?
Now only says:

“Aur beta, what do you do these days?”

Same people.
Different souls.

And On Some Quiet Nights…

We sit alone and ask ourselves:

“Am I still the kid who used to run barefoot in the lane outside Grandma’s house?”
“What happened to those people who were once my entire world?”
“Did I really become successful… or did I just become distant?”

And sometimes, a tear rolls down quietly.
For a past that feels more real than the present.

Growing Up Wasn’t Supposed to Mean Growing Cold

“We learned how to earn… but forgot how to connect.”
“We built new homes… but left behind the heart of the old one.”
“We chased dreams… but drifted away from those who once cheered us on.”

Why Does Growing Up Mean Growing Apart?

“The home that once echoed with laughter is now just a place with closed doors and forgotten memories.”

One House, One Family — Now Scattered Across Cities

There was a time when:

  • Uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents — all lived under one roof
  • Dinner meant sitting together, tearing rotis from the same stack
  • Festivals felt like full-blown celebrations — with decorations, chaos, and togetherness

But now?

  • Everyone lives in separate houses
  • Everyone has their own schedules
  • And no one has time — not even for a call

That joint family where love didn’t need planning
has turned into nuclear homes where love is often missing from the budget.

Every Relationship Now Needs “Effort” to Feel Alive

In childhood:

  • Grandpa told stories without being asked
  • Bua (aunt) scolded and then fed you sweets the same evening
  • Cousins shared everything — snacks, games, secrets, tears

Today:

  • Grandpa’s birthday needs a Zoom invite
  • You think twice before calling Bua
  • And cousins? They’re just active on Instagram — not in your life

“Relationships once felt effortless. Now they feel like calendar events.”

The Old Ancestral Home — From Shared Memories to Property Disputes

The house where:

  • Mangoes dried on the rooftop
  • Diyas were lit in every corner during Diwali
  • Where Grandma’s voice called out for every meal

Today:

  • It’s either sold, sealed, or in court
  • The courtyard that once held cricket matches is now covered in dust
  • And the rooms that once held 15 people… are empty

“The house still stands, but the home is gone.”

From “Family” to “Followers” — The Shift We Never Noticed

The cousin who once fought with you over the TV remote —
now only sends you LinkedIn updates.
The uncle who carried you on his shoulders at the mela —
now says “Let’s catch up” but never really means it.

We say we’re “busy”…
But deep down, we just forgot how to stay connected.
We forgot the feeling of belonging.

The People in Photo Frames Are Missing in Real Life

There was a time when:

  • Chacha’s pakoras made every monsoon magical
  • Mami’s kheer during Rakhi was a tradition
  • Grandma’s oil massages and bedtime songs were sacred

Now:

  • Those people live only in old albums
  • Or in forwarded photos on family WhatsApp groups
  • The real conversations, the real warmth… are lost

“We still have the faces — but not the feelings.”

Sometimes, Sitting Alone… You Ask Yourself

“Am I the same child who once ran barefoot across the verandah of Dadi’s house?”
“Did I trade my roots for routine?”
“Have I really succeeded… or just drifted away from the ones who mattered most?”

And in those quiet moments,
when nostalgia hits harder than the noise around you —
a tear falls.
Not for what’s gone…
but for what could’ve stayed — if only we tried.

Growing Up Shouldn’t Have Meant Growing Cold

“We learned to earn… but forgot to hold hands.”
“We built bigger houses… but left behind the only home that ever mattered.”
“We grew smart… but forgot the value of sitting together and simply being family.”

Don’t Let The Flame Die

It’s not too late.

  • Call that cousin — even if it’s been years
  • Ask your uncle about that old story again
  • Visit that ancestral house once — not for property, but for peace
  • Tell your mom you miss the joint family — because she probably does too

“Some roots are too deep to cut off. You just have to water them again.”

Final Conclusion: The Train Still Runs — But Its Destination Has Changed

There was a time…
when the sound of a train meant excitement, mangoes, cousins, and Grandma’s hug.
When a simple journey to the village felt like a trip to heaven.
When one house held 20 hearts, and one dinner table fed 20 souls.

We grew up chasing dreams…
and somewhere in between, the joint family broke apart, the house got locked,
and the people turned into profile pictures.

But you know what still remains?

That little boy —
with messy hair, sitting at the window seat of a train,
smiling wide, watching the fields fly by,
wondering what Grandma will cook today.

That boy still lives inside us.
Waiting. Hoping.
That maybe… one day, we’ll take that train again.
Not to a place,
but to a feeling.

To a time when love was loud,
people were present,
and home was a heart — not a location.

The train still runs.
But now… it carries memories instead of people.
And silence, where once there was laughter.

So if you ever hear that whistle again —
Don’t just listen.
Remember. Reconnect. Return — even if only in your heart.
Because childhood, family, and love —
were never meant to be left behind at a station.

With memories, love & truth,

Vikash Singh

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