After two days of being violently ill in Paharganj, trapped in a stuffy and windowless hotel room, I took a 36 hour train from Delhi to Bangalore. At 6am the train passed through the Delhi slums on the way out. Locals sat on the side of the railway, each with a plastic bottle ready to answer the call of nature. Other men, presumably employed, tapped idly on the track with chisels without really achieving anything. The chai-wallahs were on top form with the full range of vending possibilities. ‘Samosi Samosa’ was said in a nasal android tone at high volume. ‘Chai Chaiee’, ‘coffi coffeeee’, ‘veg pakora’, ‘veg non-veg’, ‘chicken cutlette’, ‘omlette’, ‘veg biryani – chicken biryani’, ‘ masala chai.’ Heading through the rarely visited Madhya Pradesh in the centre of the country, the landscape initially became
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