<p class="bodytext">Bidding farewell to friends and relatives at the airport, the railway station, or the bus terminal was once the norm, and it continues to this day. It is immaterial whether the person is heading to Rome or Ranipet, intending to be away permanently, or planning a short sojourn outside their home. While dignitaries and matinee idols receive a send-off with legions of admirers lining the route, the UIPs—unimportant persons—have their own coterie of near and dear ones who turn up to say adieu.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Touching scenes of farewell are more common at railway stations and bus terminals than at airports, although many air passengers embark on journeys spanning one or two continents. At an airport, there is a certain amount of reserve on the part of the traveller and their well-wishers. Most of them suppress their feelings or put on a lively, sophisticated smile with considerable difficulty. Not so at a railway station or a bus stand, where men are often seen wiping their tears and women crying aloud, overcome by emotion.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"Keep an eye on your baggage. Remember, the train will halt only for a couple of minutes at the Cantonment station. Give me a call as soon as you get down there,” an anxious father tells his son in a voice choked with emotion. Presumably, the youngster, the recipient of an abundance of helpful counsel until the departure of the Chennai-Bengaluru Mail, is proceeding to take up a job in Bengaluru.</p>.<p class="bodytext">An elderly woman at a rural bus terminal is very reluctant to part with her grandson. She hugs him and buys all the edibles that vendors bring before her, and the boy gleefully laps them up one by one, his pockets overflowing with sweets and biscuits. A little away, a youth with moist eyes is seen saying goodbye to his pregnant wife. For the hundredth time, a gentleman in the autumn of his life advises his wife, whose neck and arms are adorned with valuable ornaments, to be very careful.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The other day, an uncle of mine was to see off his family in his native place. Arriving at the station, he enthusiastically set about buying fruits and magazines for his wife and children to use during travel. He got the jug filled with fresh water and saw to it that hot coffee was brought in a flask. He instructed his children to profit from the rural way of life. The first bell rang, and he regaled them about the beautiful landscape of their village and the limpid water of the river Cauvery that flowed nearby.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The signal was given, the guard whistled, and the engine gave a shrill cry. The moment the train started with a jerk, the gentleman hurriedly got into the compartment, much to the pleasant surprise of his family. "I feel like going," he told his astonished friend on the platform, and he withdrew his head.</p>
<p class="bodytext">Bidding farewell to friends and relatives at the airport, the railway station, or the bus terminal was once the norm, and it continues to this day. It is immaterial whether the person is heading to Rome or Ranipet, intending to be away permanently, or planning a short sojourn outside their home. While dignitaries and matinee idols receive a send-off with legions of admirers lining the route, the UIPs—unimportant persons—have their own coterie of near and dear ones who turn up to say adieu.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Touching scenes of farewell are more common at railway stations and bus terminals than at airports, although many air passengers embark on journeys spanning one or two continents. At an airport, there is a certain amount of reserve on the part of the traveller and their well-wishers. Most of them suppress their feelings or put on a lively, sophisticated smile with considerable difficulty. Not so at a railway station or a bus stand, where men are often seen wiping their tears and women crying aloud, overcome by emotion.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"Keep an eye on your baggage. Remember, the train will halt only for a couple of minutes at the Cantonment station. Give me a call as soon as you get down there,” an anxious father tells his son in a voice choked with emotion. Presumably, the youngster, the recipient of an abundance of helpful counsel until the departure of the Chennai-Bengaluru Mail, is proceeding to take up a job in Bengaluru.</p>.<p class="bodytext">An elderly woman at a rural bus terminal is very reluctant to part with her grandson. She hugs him and buys all the edibles that vendors bring before her, and the boy gleefully laps them up one by one, his pockets overflowing with sweets and biscuits. A little away, a youth with moist eyes is seen saying goodbye to his pregnant wife. For the hundredth time, a gentleman in the autumn of his life advises his wife, whose neck and arms are adorned with valuable ornaments, to be very careful.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The other day, an uncle of mine was to see off his family in his native place. Arriving at the station, he enthusiastically set about buying fruits and magazines for his wife and children to use during travel. He got the jug filled with fresh water and saw to it that hot coffee was brought in a flask. He instructed his children to profit from the rural way of life. The first bell rang, and he regaled them about the beautiful landscape of their village and the limpid water of the river Cauvery that flowed nearby.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The signal was given, the guard whistled, and the engine gave a shrill cry. The moment the train started with a jerk, the gentleman hurriedly got into the compartment, much to the pleasant surprise of his family. "I feel like going," he told his astonished friend on the platform, and he withdrew his head.</p>