The train chuge out of the station with a loud hoot. It was still misty outside and the buildings on the outskirts of the town were like dark silhouettes against the ashen sky. The railway track lay right through them. But the mist hung thick over the plants. Only the sun appeared like a bright yolk coloured orb hanging just where the garden met the horizon.

The general quietness of the place and the steady, slow rhythm of the train’s movement had lulled us to a sense of contentment when suddenly there issued a loud whistle from the engine and an invisible hand seemed to transpose us into a vivaciously green world. Outside the window, the scenery changed within minutes.

The train was travelling through a dense green forest. The further it travelled, the forest became even more mysterious. The tall trees stood burdened with their thick foliage, creepers and ferns wrapped tightly around their sturdy stems. The upper canopy was so thick that sunlight hardly passed through except for tears and chinks in the leafy cover. The forest floor was littered with bushy undergrowth. There was a sweet, moist smell in the air. The place reminded us of the forests of some primordial age.

Travellers cannot easily reach this far within the Mahananda Wildlife Sanctuary. From Siliguri, you have to drive up to the forest check gate at Sukna, seven kilometres away, and then collect a permit which will allow you as far as Golaghat on the Mahananda river. Till a few years back, there was a weir on the river and the bank was picturesquely laid out as a picnic spot. But a couple of years ago, a mighty avalanche in the hills had made the river flood its banks and destroy the entire place. From the train, Golaghat is not visible because it lies beyond the forest cover.

As we watched mesmerized, the families occupying the windows up ahead, broke into loud cheer. Peering to our left, we found a huge elephant slowly vanishing into the forest. Hearing the noise of the rushing train, it had stopped but perhaps breathing contempt over the beast shooting past, it again chose to lumber into the forest. We caught glimpses of a flock of spotted deer and a lone gaur. But the moving train does not stop for animal-watching, and you have to be quite attentive if you want to catch glimpses of the animals.

There was no station around here and the train sped fast through the forest. Within seconds, we went past the Gulma Watchtower. It was actually an abandoned railway cabin which the forest department had repaired into an observation post. During winter, the West Bengal Tourism Office at Siliguri conducts a half-day sightseeing tour of the Mahananda Wildlife Sanctuary where passengers are brought to the watchtower. And if you are lucky, you’ll see herds of deer, elephants or gaur from here. Near the tower, there is a forest rest house too. But frequent raids by elephants have forced the forest department to keep it shut most of the time.

Regular passengers on this route will tell you even more strange tales of elephant behaviour. Once a passing train had killed an elephant cub. The rest of the members of the herd laid a siege on the railway tracks, stopping all movement by trains. They tried to uproot the track, turn over the passing trains and generally created chaos. To prevent such incidents, the train now frequently bursts into a staccato of wharp hoots to drive away animals from the track. But it is still not unusual to hear about animals being hit by the train or killed by it.

After Gulma station came Sevoke. After Sevoke, there was a couple of villages beside the rail track. It was not difficult to figure out that patches of forests had been cleared to make room for habitation. The Bangladesh border is not far from here and people have come across the border and settled down, specially during the Partition and the 1971 War.

The train chugged merrily over a bridge across the Teesta river. There are a number of rivers which rise in the nearby hills and flow across the Dooars region. Down below, we could see the river flowing over a bed of pebbles, its translucent water reflecting the greenery alongside.

Bagrakote, Odlabari, Damdim, New Mal Jn... quaintly beautiful stations passed by in a flurry. Earlier, these stations were bustling places after every tea season when the boxed leaves would be weighed and put into trains to be transported to the auction houses in Calcutta and then shipped around the globe. The old sheds still exist. In between the stations, lie the tea gardens. There are about 150 tea gardens in Dooars alone and most of them lie in this region. Meanwhile, the mist had cleared and the soft light of the morning sun raised dimpled patterns over the velvety green bushes. The temptation to put out my hand and touch the tips of the plants was too great — only the thought of dashing against a post prevented me. In some of the gardens, women with baskets on their backs, were busy plucking the leaves. A child clinging to her mother’s dress waved us and we waved back. At a few places, the rail track lay right across the middle of a garden and we found labourers waiting patiently beside the rudimentary level crossing — a bamboo or a tree trunk laid horizontally across the footpath — for the train to pass.

We travelled through Kilcote tea garden to reach Chalsa station. It is an important junction on this route. During the orange growing season, the station bustled with oranges being loaded into trains for their journey into the plains. You can get down here to travel to Garumara and Chapramari sanctuaries by road. A few jeeps are available at the station and you have to bargain the price. The Sinclairs group of hotels have set up a beautiful resort at Chalsa. They can also pick you up from the station if informed in advance. Attempts are being made to develop the small, colonial period golf course near the resort. Our train stopped here for an unusually long period.

It was the scheduled day for giving Pulse Polio Vaccine and a camp had been set up at the station. Passengers and villagers were being requested to bring their children to the camp and there was a long queue.

From the moving train, we saw an abandoned cabin with the words ‘WAY TO CHAPRAMARI FOREST’ painted on it. More tea gardens and lightly wooded countryside now interspersed on both sides of the track. Sometimes we were crossing over nearly dry riverbeds, the thin-looking streams flowing almost unseen. Huge trucks stood down there as coolies piled it with boulders and pebbles from the riverbed.

Soon Nagrakote, Keron, Changmari stations were left behind and we crossed over an old bridge over the Diana river. Around nine, we crossed Banarhat and pulled into Binnaguri station. Binnaguri, Lataguri, Bhotmari ... the stations here are reminiscent of Bhutanese settlements which once flourished in this region. The place had a close relationship with the neighbouring country of Bhutan. But the influx of tea garden labourers and outside people have now changed the demographic pattern and the lifestyle of the place.

We crossed the Khanabarti river and stopped at Dalgaon. Then came the Mujnai river and the station of the same name. Large sawmills sprawled alongside the track will tell you that the Madarihat station would be coming soon. You can get down at Madarihat if you want to visit the Jaldapara Sanctuary famous for rhinos. The Jaldapara Tourist Bungalow run by the West Bengal Tourism Development Corporation lies just outside the sanctuary and very near the railway station. Jeeps and cycle rickshaws can be found outside the station. Or you can also hire a car from Madarihat and travel to Bhutan through Jaigaon and Phuntsholling.

A stone tablet now informed us that we were crossing the Torsa river. The water flowed like many silver buntings warbling over the boulders. It was difficult to imagine that every monsoon, it is the same river which becomes a headstrong mass of water, flooding its banks. A serpent eagle sat on a dry branch between the boulders and napped despite the noise of the train rushing overhead.

Gradually, the forest was thinning out to give way to more settlements. At Hasimara, there was a military air base. Sometimes, elephants even raid the airfield. Usually they go away after a chase but once it so happened that a herd was refusing to vacate the airfield for a long time. When they could not drive away the animals by making a noise and bursting crackers, the air force tried to shoo the animals by flying low over them. But the animals were undeterred and tried to pull down the small planes with their trunks and the ploy had to be abandoned. Thankfully, the animals left the place soon after. Perhaps, the elephants cannot forget that they were once masters of this region. The demographic pressure has pushed back the elephants and occupied their hearth and home, blocked their annual migratory corridors. The frightened and hungry animals therefore raid villages in search of fodder — lured by the lush green banana plantations and the smell of toddy. The man-animal conflict continues unabated.

As the train goes past Hamiltonganj, Kalchini, Garopara ... we could see palpable examples of deforestation. The places are also famous for their agricultural produce — oranges of Hasimara, timber of Hamiltonganj, tea gardens of Kalchini... Around 11.30 am, we reached Rajabhatkhaoa railway station. We had booked rooms at the forest bungalow here and so disembarked. Located in the middle of the Buxa Tiger Reserve, Rajabhatkhaoa can also be reached by road from Alipurduar. But you will miss the beautiful scenery. The forest bungalow was not far from the station and as we were crossing the gate, the train left the place with one departing whistle.

A stone tablet now informed us that were crossing the Torsa river. The water flowed like many silver buntings warbling over the boulders. It was difficult to imagine that every monsoon, it is the same river which becomes a headstrong mass of water, flooding its banks