I have boarded the Vikramshila Express from New Delhi with trepidation. My destination is my hometown Bhagalpur, a district in the back of beyond in Bihar which has earned notoriety for all the wrong reasons - blinding of prisoners and communal carnage. But it is home to me and my family - our getaway from the modern, cosmopolitan life of Delhi where we cool our heels on the banks of the mighty Ganga.

Every year, around this time, my ageing parents wait for me, my wife and our son. While the scorching summer and the approaching humidity of the monsoon saps the fun out of travel, thoughts of home beckon us. But today, my trepidation has nothing to do with blazing sun. Neither has it anything to do with having to muscle my way into a crowded coach of a train headed for Bihar. It is directly linked to a PTI wire which quotes you as having said, "We will not allow the trains to run smoothly."

As a journalist, I am aware of your organisation's capabilities. I take your words very seriously. And I fear for my life and the lives of my family members. I am quite aware of how your people are believed to have carried out derailment of the Jnaneswari Express near Jhargram on May 28. I can still recall as to how my three-year-old son watched the crying and wailing of hapless passengers, bewildered as he tried to grasp the reasons for such human suffering inflicted by fellow human beings. I had switched off the TV then.

But now that I am boarding the train, I am doing so knowing that I and my family could well meet the fate that awaited the passengers of the Gynashewari Express. Your message is terse and clear. But my dilemma is more acute. I have no other option but to board the train. Like millions of Biharis who eke out a living outside, I am connected to my native land only by train. Unlike most, I am fortunate enough to have a white-collared job and booked my reservation in the AC three tier two months in advance.

Though I know that your threat is serious, I will risk my life and lives of my family members to reach my hometown. I am not among those VVIPs who can get their tickets cancelled at the drop of a hat and hop on a flight to Patna. Even if you blast the train to smithreens, I will go like thousands of other passengers. But can you explain to me what kind of battle you are fighting with common people like us?

I know for a fact that you become helpless when corporate magnates board jets and land wherever they want. I have found you fuming with impotent rage when a Chidambaram air dashes to your so-called liberated zones and educates famished people about the benefits of a liberalised economy. These people are least bothered about you as they can not only bypass your threat but also buy peace when it suits them.

Since I know this political hypocrisy, I am determined to board the train tonight and will travel with those landless Bihari peasants who always look forward to happy reunion with their relatives and their native place once a year. You and your organisation may cut short their life's journey. But let me assure you that you stand to lose the war in this manner.

As of now, my fear is overpowered by my longing to meet my parents and relatives who will treat me to sweet and succulent mangoes of the season. But who knows? You are capable of turning this into a nightmare. I know this and I do take your word seriously. But, like thousands of my fellow passengers, I will still board the train.