It was the winter season. I was travelling by train, running at full speed. Stations passed one after another. The train halted at a few stations only. By nightfall I was some two hundred miles away from my city. The train was now heading for Mughal Sand an important railway junction on the Eastern The compartment in which I had taken my seat was a small one. Most of the passengers were either sleeping or dozing. I was the only one who was still wide awake.
Just then there appeared a man. He quietly opened the door and came in. He looked around. He was followed by some others. They had pistols in their hands and wore masks. One of them who seemed to be their leader ordered the passengers to raise their hands up or he would shoot them. All turned pale. None dared utter a cry. They looked helplessly at one another.
The dacoits snatched whatever they could. They ransacked the boxes. The women cried and wailed but it was of no avail. One of the passengers tried to grapple with them but they stabbed him dead. By this time the train had become slow. It seemed it was nearing a station. As soon as it stopped, the dacoits jumped out and disappeared in the darkness of the night.
As soon as they were gone, the passengers wailed and cried. One of them ran to the station master to inform him of the robbery. The station master came to the compartment with the station staff. Other passengers also gathered there. Very soon there was a large crowd of people. No one thought of giving a chase to the dacoits. The dead body was removed and sent for post-mortem examination. The dacoits ran away with the booty. The police dared not follow them. The train moved on. The passengers were left sobbing over their loss. I still remember the day. The very thought makes me shudder. It was indeed a lucky escape from being murdered.