Roadies type adventure task

I have been working at a primary health centre in a village called Saphale-about a couple of hours from central Mumbai. Amongst other things, I visit Anganwadis (nurseries) in smaller villages even more faraway from Saphale to examine and treat children. Usually there is a means of transport for the same. So when I was told to go to Vaadiv for an aanganwadi visit,I was sure it would be like any of the other three I had already done. Lets just say this one was slightly different.
I was told by the two healthcare worker that no automobile goes to this place and we will have to take the train to Vaitarna and walk from there. Grudgingly, I obliged and found myself on Vaitarna station.
The walk,it turned out,was no simple one.We were supposed to carry out the journey on the railway tracks,the two of them that were there. I hopped and skipped clumsily on the kilometre long stretch of the rock lined path,looking exasperatedly at my fellow-women as they completed strong,effortless stride after stride. The realization that I was actually walking on railway tracks made me shudder from time to time. Soon enough,I realized that traffic was heavy and that we were supposed to hop from one track to another dodging approaching trains,which we had to look for on both sides by squinting hard in the sun. As someone who is terrified of crossing roads and sometimes even dreads certain staircases (and height and water.....you get the picture),this was a phenomenal leap,sometimes literally.
Little did I know that the real adventure challenge was yet awaiting me. You see,there is a large water body called Vaitarna khadi (bay) over which the tracks run. The space between the two tracks is a huge two metre gap which is ~gasp~ interrupted by a one and a half foot broad and about half a mile long metal plank running parallel to the tracks. The space on either side is sufficient enough for a well built human being to comfortably slip through and fall into the khadi. Yes,you guessed it right,we were supposed to walk over that plank and get to the other side. I offered continuing to walk on the tracks-but soon realized the dangers. If a train approached we would have had to jump over the gap on the plank-more dangerous than walking on the plank itself. To say that I was scared was a gross understatement. Still,I half conceitedly-half dutifully thought of all the children waiting for me to examine them and began.
It was the most dreadful 15 minutes of my life. Things got too literal as I found I was on the edge and took baby steps trying not to look down and failing at it miserably. I could not hold sister's hand because of the narrowness,and all I could listen to was the gushing deep waters below me. The heat,dehydration and fear were working in tandem to make me dizzy and make the path even harder. There were people in front and the back,that was reassuring,but their steps caused the plank-and consequently,me-to vibrate. There were women who carried large,heavy looking bundles on their heads and looked as if it was a walk in the park for them. I started to think about the anthropological undertones of the attitude they have about Life and Death,but the plank and the bay below soon made me less philosophical and more primal. Concentration was key. I kept affirming myself with 'I can do this', 'I can handle anything life puts in front of me','I am a strong,calm,centred person'-a technique I have used throughout internship. An addition was 'If I fall,I will swim'. But I pretty much could no longer ignore 'If I cannot swim,I will die'. After a gruelling 15 minutes,Thank God,I was back on terra firma.
After another half a mile on the tracks again,this time on solid ground,I was at the Anganwadi wiping my brow.
If you thought my struggle was over,you are far from right. I was supposed to make the whole journey all over again to get back to Vaitarna station. This time on the plank,I managed to ask the Anganwadi worker who had so kindly accompanied me, whether it was dangerous to cross the khadi this way. In a trademark charming rural callousness,she answered 'Sometimes people fall. If they fall,they die'. I tried my best not to dwell on that and just keep on going to the rhythmic banter of her regaling me with tales of how her relatives are scared of this 'bridge' too.
Somewhere in the middle,she saw the tracks vibrating and shouted out loud to me 'Madam,memo gaadi aa rahi hai'. We were not on the tracks,so I was confused. I told her so. She said that if a train goes by while you are standing on the plank,you have a really,really,good chance of keeling over and falling! The solution,ladies and gentlemen,was to sit.That's right,she held my hand and we squatted in a taking-a-dump-in-the-woods way over the precariously limited metal strip with our backs towards the train. The worst part was that this forced me to look nowhere but down. So there I was,squatting on the plank,with a fast moving train behind me throwing gushes of wind enough to send me over,looking at what I had been avoiding looking at all this time. I had no clue if I would return.

However,I did,and was safely back on Vaitarna station,where I had to catch the Ahemdabad passenger to Viraar,and Life,curiously,went on as before.

status-goosebumpy and with really sore quadriceps.