It starts with a bell. A crisp clang cutting through the air - not just a cue for an arriving train, but a signal to pause, gather, and feel the town’s rhythm shift. Across Johor, the railways weren’t just infrastructure. In every town they touched, they became the pulse of the place.

That meant children stopped mid-chase; canteen workers wiped their hands, tuning in. Then came the rumble, the vibration, the metallic breath of something more than machinery - but movement, reunion, and change.

The ringing of the bell marked more than timetables. It announced life. It meant peanut vendors readying their baskets, porters scanning the crowd for familiar faces, and families anticipating a return or farewell. While the trains have changed, their echoes remain: etched into the aged platform, the stories passed down, and the ground beneath your feet.

So, take a breath - let the sound bring you in. You’re standing where stories once arrived, departed, and kept moving forward.