(6) Entering Rajasthan

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Day 5 - Train & Jodhpur

I woke up suddenly at 02:00 to the sound of running, screaming and panic. I sat up quickly to see 3 men running down the carriage screaming. I was in that state of mind where you’ve been wrenched out of sleep due to the evolutionary instinct of the possibility of danger, after the 3 men had run through to the next carriage I concentrated hard on my hearing to see if there was anything that I should be hearing, my immediate thoughts were ‘bomb, fire, murder’ as the men were running at a speed I wouldn’t be able to match through a crowded and dark train at 2 o’clock in the morning. I heard nothing, no one else was panicking and no other noises were being made so I relaxed again although still wary (calling upon the psychological theory of shared responsibility) for a few minutes until I dozed off again, Happy to see my valuables where I left them.

I woke again at 5am to find the train had all but emptied but for about 10 people on a carriage capable of carrying 50. I found Simon, folded a couple of beds down to form sofas and we talked about being woken at 2am, Simon informed me that it was in fact a thief (according to the family who were sitting below him when it happened) which made sense. I liked the fact that 2 people were chasing that man with such determination that I can only assume he either got beaten up for thievery or he jumped off the train at speed into the middle of nowhere. It made me feel safer.

We pushed the window covers up and enjoyed the fresh, unpolluted air rushing over my face and through my hair, ruffling my jacket. All I could see outside was desert shrubland, sandy soil, small mountains rising in the distance and the occasional little settlement or subsistence farmer.
Stopping at any station brought the calls of ‘Chai!’, ‘Chai, Chai!’ over and over again along with each stations unique style street food passed through the bars and standard items like coke, water and crisps walked through the carriage, with the sellers staying on the train until the very last moment and they hop off as the train starts to move and get to the next platform to sell again.

We had our first food passed through the bars at Gandhinagar/Ahmedebad (the state capital of Rajahstan which is apparently miserable and dirty) which was fried vegetables, all of them seemingly different and unknown tastes to us, one of the ones I bit into seemed spicy so I looked to see that I’d just bitten a really hot chilli in half... Hot. Of course I finished it, but slowly.

I’ve found out from that train journey that iPod + Shantaram = 5 hours gone. It’s a better killer of time than sleeping.

One thing I didn’t enjoy one bit was the slight fear of dread that came with the arrival of the train at a different station. Professional beggars would start to plead through the bars, hands open, eyes full of expression and sadness, touching and grabbing your arm at times. The train can stay in a station for 5 minutes and sometimes more, this can end up being horrible as you have to insist and ignore this person who is clearly much worse off than you because if you do cave and give to them then you’re encouraging begging as a job and they may not even get the money. Giving 2 Rupees to an old lady isn’t going to make her life more enjoyable for any extended period of time. Neither is giving a child money going to feed her for more than one meal, It’s likely that the money goes towards a fathers drinking money or something funding a negative spiral. Indians have the incredible ability to say so much and express so much without saying a word, just using eye contact, and I had to look into those eyes as an economist and convince myself that giving them money would solve nothing.

At one point on the journey when we were mid-way between 2 stations, a guy who we assumed worked for the train company (Western Railways) brushed tirelessly under our seats, lifting our bags, brushing every last piece of dust away, we even lifted our legs as he cleaned under where we were sitting as we both looked at each other with a mixture of confusion and respect for this hard worker. After he was finished he sat on the floor as you would if you leant back from a stable position after crawling and started to beg for money. Our immediate reaction was to look at each other, then look deliberately away from him as we treat any other beggar. When we did this his face went from proud expectancy of money to pure hopelessness, He was kneeling on the floor, had some battered sandals on, some ripped shorts and a brown shirt stained a darker shade of brown by the fact it obviously hadn’t been washed in some time. As I looked into his eyes I could see that for the first time in India, I actually felt very very sorry for him, and guilt rushed through me as we’d let him clean our area, so stupid of us. As these thoughts were spinning round my head, he grabbed at my leg, firmly wrapping a hand round my calf, I kept turned away, although this sudden progression of begging had taken me by surprise, and seeing as no one else had done this I assumed it meant he was almost offended by the fact we’d let him clean and not given him any money, as he proceeded to grab Simon’s leg I caved and gave him 2Rs (3p) and he crawled away to the next carriage.

I breathed, and felt humiliated by the experience I’d just had, no matter how many times I say to myself that I can’t take my position in the world as a middle class citizen in England for granted. I’m infinitely richer than so many of the people I see outside the train windows. I will never have to beg to survive and therefore will never truly know what it feels like to live in poverty.

Another 2 hours later a small child started cleaning underneath us when we instantly stopped him, thus avoiding the heart wrenching standoff afterwards. He understood, and we’d learnt a lesson. It was 17 hours since we’d left Mumbai and we’d been on the train to Jodhpur for 14 hours, we thought that the train to Jodhpur was just over 15 hours so I asked a local “Jodhpur, When Jodhpur?” When he replied (no one on our carriage spoke good English) he nodded and said “Next stop, Next stop Jodhpur”.
3 hours later we’d learnt that “Next stop Jodhpur” actually means ‘well we haven’t gone passed it yet’ to Indian locals as 3 had told us the same thing.

We eventually pulled into the sand-coloured and modern looking station that belonged to the city of Jodhpur. Jodhpur has a population of 800,000 and is overlooked by the epic Mehrangarh fort, all the buildings are blue as well which is pretty cool. We’re planning on doing Jodhpur properly another time as this time we just wanted a bus ticket to Udaipur and a place to sleep. We got the 7 hour bus ticket sorted easily for tomorrow morning at 7am for the bargain price of 2quid each.

We followed a lonely planet recommendation to a hostel at the top of the old city (think alleyways clogged with rickshaws, markets and mopeds up a constant 30 degree angle) on a rickshaw that didn’t expect us to bargain him down to 25Rs but we managed. He ended up dropping us at the bottom of this hill that had signs saying our hostel was a 2 minute walk, we paid the man and proceeded where the sign pointed. This sign forgot to mention that those 2 minutes was probably more difficult than all the trekking Nathan will do in Costa Rica (ha) as this winding little road extends up at what I can only assume must’ve been at least 45 degrees. No wonder the rickshaw turned back. After our exhausting 50 steps or so we reached ‘Cosy Guest House’ which of course, was full. &*^%^$&. We caught a rickshaw back to a hostel near the station, got a cheaper dorm room to ourselves and vowed that we wouldn’t go on such a mission without phoning the hostel ahead of time to make sure they had rooms. Hence, I now have an Indian mobile number - 0091 9571258005 which you can dial really cheaply from a UK landline.

(http://callchecker.moneysavingexpert.com/intcallchecker/india-mobile)

We were enjoying a beer with our meal on our rooftop restaurant overlooking Mehrangarh fort, when it started to rain. Yeah, it started to rain... WHAT? Apparently it happens once a month for about 10 minutes. Weird. The beds were hard but we conked out as we were tired after the 21 hour (in total) train journey from Mumbai.

Loving the comments by the way everyone. Thanks.

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Comments

[anonymous]

tough lesson to learn. x

[Dad]

Welcome to Rajasthan!
You've got to love Indian trains! The memory of them never fades! Can't wait to try the new mobile phone number. Still loving the writing style.