India, May 6 -- Train journeys have always held a special charm for me, rooted in a cache of memories from trips with my mother and brother to our grandparents' sleepy town in Haryana. Those were the days of steam engines chugging at an unhurried pace, stopping at every station. Travel wasn't about speed; it was about the journey itself, punctuated by the ritual of carefully packed lunch boxes and water flasks. Today, those who can afford it opt for the sky or high-speed luxury trains. While flying is undeniably efficient for a life on the move, it has quietly robbed us of the simple joys of a bygone era. The classroom-like seating of planes and non-stop luxury trains discourages interaction; passengers sit upright in cramped rows, eyes glued to smartphones, isolated in digital bubbles. Conventional trains offer a different experience altogether. Face-to-face seating makes eye contact inevitable and conversation natural. A casual remark often breaks the ice, leading to shared stories, homemade parathas, and sometimes even exchanged phone numbers. These journeys foster fleeting yet warm human connections that modern travel rarely permits. I was reminded of this while visiting a friend in Delhi last winter. Widespread flight disruptions due to fog forced me into a last-minute reservation for an overnight train back to Amritsar. Before I left, my friend's wife thoughtfully slipped a tiffin of homemade dinner into my bag. As I lay on the upper berth, the animated chatter of a family below caught my attention. A man, his wife, and two sisters-in-law were returning from Lucknow after meeting a prospective groom for their daughter. Their debate swirled around the boy's family, his salary, and the logistics of a life in Hyderabad. Around 9pm, as the train slowed at a station, vendors selling traditional snacks flooded the aisle. The women clamoured for poori-chana, and the man promptly obliged, buying for everyone but himself. He refused to eat, citing the unhealthy trans-fats of station food. His sisters-in-law teased their jiju mercilessly for his health-consciousness until, with mock resignation, he remarked, "If He wills, I won't sleep on an empty stomach." The aroma of their feast stirred my own appetite, and I reached for my tiffin. Realising I had more than enough, I offered to share my meal with the man who had been the good-natured target of the evening's jokes. He accepted instantly. As he relished the homemade food, he turned the tables on his sisters-in-law with a triumphant grin. "Your choice decides your destiny," he said, "so choose wisely." The compartment echoed with laughter, and for a brief moment, strangers became companions, bound by the simple, enduring magic of a train journey....