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Noida Express

Jitendra Anand

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead and events is entirely coincidental. The names of places are part of India and names of people in the plot of the novel are common in nature, generally found in common usage, no offence is intended to anyone.




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© Copyright, 2018, Jitendra Anand

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, optical, chemical, manual, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of its writer.

The opinions/ contents expressed in this book are solely of the author and do not represent the opinions/ standings/ thoughts of Publisher.

ISBN No. "978-81-939444-0-0"

Engineering I Energy I Environment



I never imagined I’d be an author someday. Last year, I was given an assignment to write a technical book for the Ministry of Rural Development, while working as a consultant.

That experience triggered the passion of writing inside me. Now with each passing day, I feel happy and determined to pursue writing in my life.

I thank my wife Pooja, a constant inspiration and motivation, irrespective of all difficulties in life for always being there with her support.

Both of my children, Rohit and Dhara for constantly reminding me to keep moving in this direction, with their words of encouragement.

My gratitude for friends and colleagues, who supported me with kind words and quotes of inspirations.

And last, but not the least, all of you.

I feel inspired to work harder.

I am feeling blessed after visiting Mahakaaleshwar Jyotirlinga today for the first time.

महाकाल महाकाय , महाकाल जगत्पते |
महाकाल महायोगिनः , महाकाल नमोस्तुते ||


17th August, 2018, Ujjain

Jitendra Anand

20th May 2018

New Delhi Railway Station

Sumit Bhatnagar was relieved while boarding the Puri Express. The train was on time. Sumit fit his luggage comfortably under the seat, got down and went straight to the tea seller. The aroma of hot tea, as he took the first sip, woke up his mind. Today, he will be leaving the city, never to return and there will be no place like Noida in his dictionary for ever. He will take a break in the remote jungles of Koraput in Odisha, live with the unknown villagers and will vanish from the city life for some time.

The train rang a quick siren, at 7 o’clock in the morning. Sumit was sitting by the window, the air smelled like heaven.

Puri Express started and picked up momentum, the platform getting left behind.

He saw a lady in a blue sari and a medium-sized handbag hanging from her left shoulder, holding a bouquet of yellow roses in her hand.

As the train moved, the face came closer to him and with it, bewilderment in his eyes. While crossing the electric pole, Sumit Bhatnagar realised the danger, he wanted to lie down immediately. The lady smiled as he looked for a moment.

He tried to bring his head down quickly, almost jumping off the seat.

There was no sound, but he felt as if some vibration had stroked his chest. Within seconds there was pain and next followed a cardiac arrest.

Sumit was still seeing the smile on her face, the face leaving behind the speeding train.

He knew what had happened and also the bare fact that he’d live for another five to six minutes. He clutched his chest with pain. He saw that the fellow family passengers were busy with their little daughter and did not notice anything.

Sumit Bhatnagar crumbled with the pain in his chest, his heart started pumping as if in a sprint race.

He spoke no words, sought no help, no agony, no more explanations and no regret. This time he decided to accept fate and closed his eyes.

Sumit felt the rupture of veins of his heart and his hands fell down as his body slipped down from the seat.

Fellow passengers jumped towards him in panic. They started talking loudly and started screaming for the help of a doctor, shaking him and calling him.

The ticket checker ran to the scene, as railway station was still nearby, passengers told ticket checker to stop the train immediately.

By the time Puri Express came to a halt, New Delhi Railway Station was almost a kilometre behind.

The young woman was on the way to Noida. There was blank silence in the car as her father slowly manoeuvred the traffic.

‘Noida Express’, the prime witness of the crime one year ago, followed them slowly at a distance.

Her mother eagerly waiting, jumped on the door with questioning eyes.

There was silence on the face of her daughter.

She found difficult to control her tears, it was 8:15 o’clock in the morning, time for breakfast and time to depart for office and college. No one uttered a single word, a quick breakfast; they packed their lunch in the bags and departed.

It was yet another day in the busy life of NCR.


19th May 2017



Ankita Sharma moved slowly towards to her home in Sector-51, Noida, a multi-storey apartment, Suntech Heights, almost 8 km form Mahamaya flyover. Her house was on the 12th floor on the open side, giving a hazy view of the surrounding area, as always because of dust in the city. It seldom rains in Noida, but whenever it has rained even for one hour, the clear view of faraway high-rising multi-storey buildings give a different and majestic view of the sky line.

Noida, the city of aspirations for thousands, slowly expanded into a twin city with Greater Noida, the intercity space turning into a concrete jungle with hundreds of residential and office complexes.

She was pursuing masters in Physics at the Government College, Sector 39, Noida under Chaudhary Charan Singh University, Meerut. The college was near her home and very conveniently located. It was the distance that made Ankita choose this college. In spite of being intelligent and getting good marks in 12th class and in graduation, she was not keen on pursuing a well-known college or a prestigious college.

Her dream, worldview and approach to life were very different.

Her passion was in a simple concept—how much time could she free up for her pursuit of knowledge on the subjects of sounds, vibrations, oscillations, resonances and its connections with Vedic sciences, literature and knowledge of the ancient times, and experimenting with the simple electronic gadgets that she was so fond of making at home. A room, converted into a mini lab, dedicated to all her pursuits, full of books, wires, tiny devices, computers, all containing jargon no one else understood.

It was a long debate with her parents that finally concluded in a decision. She will pursue a doctorate in sound from some prestigious college or university, but only after finishing her post-graduation here. Living with her mother was the top priority; nothing else mattered.

Ankita was a shy and extraordinary girl in her class, envied by the many classmates, who used to buckle under simple questions. To find a peer group on the level of Ankita was difficult, her level of knowledge created a sense of respect amongst the professors in the college. She earned a special place in the eyes of Dr. Jatin Agnihotri, Associate Professor and HOD of the Physics Department.

Dr. Jatin Agnihotri was a lean, bespectacled and short figure.

Dr. Jatin Agnihotri was a special case. His father, a schoolteacher, barely managed to educate his two sons and a daughter fighting for the survival of the family. Jatin tutored students to finance his education during graduation and post-graduation days. His worries ended when he started getting a scholarship while pursuing PhD.

Jatin had been brilliant in his student days; the love for physics always mesmerized his father too. His father was sure that one day Jatin would be able to become a respectable and eminent personality while earning a respectable life. When Jatin informed his father about getting admission for a doctorate from Banaras Hindu University, his joy knew no bounds. The chances of Jatin becoming a professor someday brought tears of happiness in his eyes.

After completing his doctorate, Jatin joined a private engineering college to teach applied sciences and after three years there, managed to qualify as Assistant Professor in the Government College in Noida. It was now his twelfth year of service and with one promotion he had become Associate Professor and had published more than twenty research papers in prestigious journals and earned a name in literary circles.

When he met Ankita, a silent girl in his class, he was a little amused. She was different from her classmates, generally engrossed in some book and not so talkative. All assignments were given in time and generally hundred percent answers to mock tests or semester examinations. With time, she earned a sense of respect from Dr. Jatin Agnihotri.

During discussions with her, he came to know about Ankita’s interest in sounds, vibrations and its effect on bodies and minds.

One day he said to Ankita, ‘All world is a sound, universe is manifestation of sound, every moving body has a sound, from subatomic particles revolving around nucleus to plants, animals, human actions, moving cars, planets, stars even milky way has a sound. Now, when science has been able to capture the electromagnetic waves into mechanical waves, we can listen to the sounds of faraway stars and galaxies.’

Dr. Jatin continued, ‘By capturing the electromagnetic radiation of Sun, one can now listen to sounds of the Sun and even study the actions and reactions inside the Sun. Someday, people will listen to the vibrations of bodies and understand the reasons inside for the causes of illness and miseries.’

Dr. Jatin was always helpful and courteous, welcomed Ankita for any random discussion, using up his free time and even solved queries while advising further reference materials on her favourite topics.

Her mother Manju Sharma was running a viral fever and father Santosh Sharma was on official tour, most likely to return after three days. She brought a packet of bread, some vegetables and milk. The doctor prescribed Manju rest and medicines, but the fever was not coming down. She reported to her father the progress of her mother’s recovery every morning and evening.

As usual, the calm and comfortable voice of her father was more than any medicine. Ankita never failed to appreciate and love her father, Santosh Sharma, a man of medium built, bespectacled and studious looking. He was an easy-going person and had been a brilliant student of physics in his college days. Ankita inherited the love for science from him. He was also very fond of ancient literature and tried to find the interrelations of modern physics with metaphysics. By the time Ankita was 21 years old, she imbibed many of the traits of her father, the intuitive mind and craving for experiments, searching for new concepts and relating it with theories in mythologies.

Manju sometimes felt deeply frustrated by the conversations between daughter and father and used to escape to watch the television, a little worried about who would marry her philosophical daughter?

‘What will you like to eat?’ Ankita asked her mother.

As usual, her mother was lost in her favourite serial. Ankita again called mother, again no reply.

Ankita stood in front her mother and the television, ‘First tell me, sandwich, simple bread butter or any other snack?’

Manju smiled. Her daughter was very caring, like here father, seldom angry.

‘Ok dear, make a toast with hot milk, I am alright now, don’t worry,’ Manju smiled at her daughter.

‘Sure, mummy’, Ankita moved to the kitchen, after half an hour she joined her mother.

Breakfast served, Manju and her daughter were laughing at a drama serial on television. Together, they sat on the shiny, light brown sofa set, Manju looked at Ankita, and once again, she was lost in watching the TV.

The next serial on television started.

‘Are you not tired of watching?’ Ankita fumed at her.

‘Ok, I will switch off after this serial.’ Manju smiled at her.


Ankita took a sigh of relief. After giving her mother medicines, she returned to her room. It was time for guided meditation, another normal Saturday.

Ankita closed her eyes and started her exercises. The sound of deep breathing and chanting of AUM started resonating in room.

After her daily routine, she gazed again on the graphics on the wall she had made:

The more precisely the position is determined, the less precisely the momentum or velocity is known in this instant, and vice versa.’

Any attempt to measure precisely the velocity of a subatomic particle, will knock it about in an unpredictable way, so that a simultaneous measurement of its position has no validity and it arises out of the intimate connection in nature between particles and waves in the realm of subatomic dimensions.

(Werner Heisenberg, 1927)

It was a well-known principle and she read it hundreds of times, but the reason was different because of her interests. Did Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle affect the thoughts occurring in the mind? Could it be applied to resonance, oscillations and effects of sound on objects?

A weird, wild and utopian idea, yes it was. When Ankita told this to her father the first time, he laughed with gusto.

‘You know Ankita, sometimes the seemingly most utopian thought can do wonders, after all who knows the truth? What mind can imagine, may be possible in universe. We don’t know many things in life.’ He remembered this day for the wild thoughts of his daughter for a long time and used to smile at the poster, neatly framed and fixed on the wall.

For Ankita, it was a dream research topic, the pursuit of ancient science written in mythologies, interwoven principles of modern physics with sound as specific domain, was her best time utilization.

And time was in plenty when compared with what her life would have been had she joined any of those far away colleges and institutes, with their rigorous schedules or commuting to Delhi every day. Even staying in a hostel and being part of everyday chorus of nerve wrecking busy lifestyle wouldn’t have suited her.


Nandkishor received a call from his native village, Mewla Gopalgarh near Jewar, a small village situated on the way side of minor road connecting Hamidpur to Tappal.

The easiest way to reach there was to take a route on expressway and turn left near Jewar. The single lane road merged with Palwal-Aligarh road. Agricultural fields and mango farms on both sides of the village road made the area lush and green and created the look of a small forest.

The engagement ceremony of the daughter of Nandkishor’s elder brother was fixed to a boy in a nearby village. There was some urgency as the groom side wanted to complete the ring ceremony this week.

His elder brother called Nandkishor with family to help in arranging for the engagement function. His son, Rahul Kumar, used to accompany him all the time on these occasions, but he was out of station, on the way to Gorakhpur for some catering business work in a function and he was not supposed to return this fortnight.


Nandkishor was a simple man, not formally educated and belonged to a very humble background. He decided to shift to Noida from his village for the sake of employment and survival. Their family hardly managed to earn a decent living. He finally decided to come to Noida to make a foray in the street-food business as the family belonged to a long line of street food sellers.

Nandkishor realised that with bare minimum investment in Noida, he could survive with his family by selling food items on streets near some offices. Young professionals, flocking in large groups, were working in corporate offices in Sector – 62. There was huge demand for breakfast and lunch items as many of them were not married, unable to cook or mostly used to take lunch at outside street food outlets due to lack of time.

He borrowed some money and purchased a rickshaw cart, food cooking items and utensils. His wife, Sujata also joined him.

On the very first day, when they started selling, business rocketed and both were in disbelief. The profit was respectable, much more than the entire week’s earnings back home.

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