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Published: September 24th 2008
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6:00 AM: I am so excited! This is my first train trip in India. I have all these crazy romantic notions of train travel in India, spurred on by “Darjeeling Limited.” This is bound to be a great adventure.
A child walks by selling tooth-achingly sweet Chai. I feel incredibly relaxed this morning, gazing out the window and sipping on the sweet tea. A woman in a beautiful, colorful sari and bangles sits just across the aisle. The tranquil landscape unfolds and quickly disappears as the train rushes forward. It’s moments like this that I most love India. I finish the Chai and crush the small plastic cup in my hand. A man nearby indicates I should throw it out the window, onto the tracks. Trash litters every inch of the route, an endless garbage dump. But I can’t bring myself to add to the mess.
8:00 AM: My god this sleeper carriage is crowded and noisy! The train stops, yet again. There are some empty seats, so I get up and move seats and stretch out across one of the empty berths. I tune into the baby lullaby playlist mixed for my nieces, curl up under my pashmina,
and drift off into an uneasy sleep.
9:00 AM: This carriage is full of some seriously gassy people. Everyone is burping, farting... And there are feet everywhere! Stinky bare feet, dangling over the edges of the upper berths, propped up on the seats across the aisle. Everywhere I look, feet. Those of the man across from me are propped up on the seat next to me, inching dangerously close to my bag....
The seat I reserved has been co-opted by a large group of squaking Aunties, eating and chattering loudly and spread out all over the lower and upper berths. I instinctively trust them to watch out for my luggage, tucked deep under the berths on which they lounge, and leave the area to bounce around from seat to seat, trying to find a comfortable and quiet place to rest.
No luck. There is nowhere to go. This carriage is packed wall to wall with people. Hot, dirty, sweaty, chatty, bare-footed people.
10:00 AM: I can’t even begin to think about the toilet situation on this train. It has to be disgusting. I have not eaten a thing, scared of being thirsty then needing to go. Can I avoid using the toilet for 10 hours?
My romantic train ride is turning out to be a bit of a nightmare. A bladder-holding, nose-pinching, bare feet-avoiding nightmare.
11:00 AM: With a twinge of guilt I throw the plastic cup out the window. Awful, I know. But if you can’t beat 'em...
12:00 PM: I am going to brave the toilet. How bad can it be compared to what I have seen thus far? I get up, but there are about thirty - yes thirty - women sitting on the floor and all over one another, in the walkway where the bathroom is supposed to be. There is not a chance of getting anywhere near the door. Why are they all sitting there? Isn't this a reserved carriage? Why don’t they have seats?
1:00 PM: I am so thirsty. And hot. No A/C. Hot winds and dust blowing in from outside. The next train ride is going to be First Class all the way.
1:30 PM: Why does this train stop so much? Every 10 minutes it seems. And we wait and wait at stations. Rough-skinned hands pass in through the windows, child and grownup vendors selling an array of unappetizing snacks. I buy an ice cream bar, confident this will not make me thirsty. Haven’t had a sip of water in hours. Would you?
2:00 PM: All these bare feet! I can't take it! The woman next to me, with feet propped up on the chair, is picking her toenails so loudly that I can hear the click click click of fingernail against toenail. I flinch and throw in my earphones. Come on David Cook, help me drown this out!
***
I expect people to stare at the white-skinned redhead, so obviously not a native. But when it is the pair of piercing black eyes of the man sitting directly across from you on the train, it is more than disconcerting. He just stares with an utterly expressionless, steady gaze. I want to stare back, thinking this will make him avert his eyes. But I can't do it.
***
The Aunties Brigade disembarked in Delhi, so I return to my seat. A family of maybe 8 or so come on board and join me in my oh-so-briefly empty space. They crowd into the seats, and one girl literally sits ON my thigh. She is still there now, pressed up against me. “Personal space” is not part of the vernacular here on this train. I turn my face toward the window and try to breathe.
The tracks pass through slums on the outskirts of Delhi. My eyes behold absolute squalor. Poverty like I have never seen before. Rancid smells waft into the train’s carriage. Row upon row of crumbling brick shacks, drying laundry hovering about piles of garbage, dirty children running about in rags. The scene before me is eerily desolate, despite the hundreds of breathing bodies that inhabit this dusty earth. Are these God's creatures too?
***
3:00 PM: Nine hours down. I am lethargic. My god we have to be getting close....
Did I mention that I plan to travel First Class on my next journey?
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