(For your
listening enjoyment while reading this post.)
Rickshaws carry a certain catchet in these parts, but no mode of transportation has moved as many people for so long a time on the subcontinent as trains. India and overloaded trains, the images are almost cliché, people half-falling out of every door, brimming over the traintop, even.
It’s something but you’ve to do while you’re here...
riding an Indian train.
But it’s harder than it seems. Trains are often sold out a month or more ahead of time. There are literally a billion people that you’re competing with for train seats. And this time of year – april and may – is the busiest, as students and families are traveling. I’m used to Hungary, where you could hop on to almost any train at the last minute. Just show up at little Heves station and buy your cardboard ticket. you could even buy the ticket once onboard.
After a month of search, finally a lead: some trains have a “foreign tourist” reservation. 2-6 seats reserved for foreigners only, even if it comes at a slightly higher price. Elvin and I wisely brought Raghu with us to pre-purchase two tickets from Hyderabad to Bangalore. Even with a local pointing us in the right direction, the process still took 30 minutes. The highlight?
Jeremy: Hi, we would like two “foreign tourist” tickets to Bangalore.
Clerk: I’m sorry. Students can’t get the foreign tourist reservation.
Jeremy: Aaaaaaaaactually, I’m a diplomat.
Friday after work, Raghu dropped us off at the Secunderabad station with a “good luck.” The station, as to expected, was packed with thousands of travelers. Entire family groups, huddled around mounds of luggage. Entire villages, it seemed, en route from somewhere to somewhere else. We were a bit conspicuous, dragging our rolling suitcases. There were no other ghoras involved in this activity.
We found our names on the reservation list, along with our berth numbers. The first time I’ve ever seen my named written by someone else in either Hindi or telugu. The pronunciation they chose? Jah-reh-me. My name worked better in Hindi script than Elvin’s though, strangely enough.
After we crossed over all 10 tracks, we sat down in the long-distance train terminal, a much more comfortable sitting place than the other half of the train station. Ten minutes later, including of course a stray dog pooping in the middle of the terminal, our train –
the Bangalore Rajdhani Express – pulled into the station. Every day, a train starts the two-night journey from Delhi to Bangalore, and vice versa, carrying a thousand passengers all or part of the way between the middle of North India and the middle of South India.
After figuring out the right door, we hopped aboard our car. This was not the train I’d remembered from Hungary. A whole nother narrow row of bunks cramped the skinny walkway. Brown faces of all ages peeked out from behind thin curtains with curiosity, I smiled back.
We shimmied our way to our seat. Or what I thought was our seat. But here I was confused. Why were there already four people sitting in our berth? I rechecked the number, confirmed it, through my suitcase on the top and walked away, assuming that the problem would resolve itself – as they so often do if you just give it time.
A minute later, I came back. Elvin was sitting between two burly men. “They said they’ll move,” he said with a shrug. I sat on the hard bench, pulling my knees into my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. I wasn’t so sure anymore about the whole night train thing.
Five minute later, as the engine horned an about-to-leave warning, the men stood up. One reached next to him, one reached under the bench. Nonchalantly, they pulled machine guns out of dark corners and walked out without a sound. I gawked in shock. They turned the corner, I looked at elvin, that’s just happened?
(You probably need
a new song for the soundtrack by this point, don’t you?)
We settled in as the train jerked out of the station. One berthmate, headed back to his aeronautic engineer job in Bangalore read on the top bunk. The other, on his way back to school, shared episode after episode of
How I Met Your Mother with us on his laptop. Both had boarded the train, a full day earlier in Delhi and were set for night two aboard the same train without debarking.
Highlight: free on-board meal was quite palatable...with no adverse consequences!
Lowlight: it was almost dark by the time we pulled out of the station, no countryside sightseeing.
Highlight: “Western” and “Indian” bathroom facilities!!
Lowlight: No foreigner reservations in First Class.
Highlight: Air-condition was almost too cold!
