Slow train to dawn

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My train wasn't due to leave until 11PM this evening, so the hotel owner kindly let me have my room during the day for half price. I can't stress enough the importance of this - in such a crazy city, you need your own little area that no-one else can intrude on.

I decided to finish off my Delhi sightseeing by visiting the National Museum, just south of the Raj Path. I was scammed again when I was told I had to hand in my bag at the cloakroom, despite the fact that no-one else did. It cost Rs 600 to get in - 300 for being a foreigner, and 300 for having a camera. You also were paying for an audio tour whether you wanted it or not, and following the audio tour ended up being an intellectual exercise in itself, as there were no directions to get from one numbered exhibit to the next. Despite only paying full attention to a few of the exhibits, I still managed to spend over 3 hours there. The miniature paintings, and myriad statues of gods/goddesses, were my favourites, and may well provide some gift ideas.

On leaving the museum, the security guard insisted on frisking me, then slapped a charity sticker on my T-shirt and commanded me to make a donation. I didn't see this happen to anyone else.

Most trains to Rajasthan depart from Sarai Rohilla station rather than New Delhi main station, so I got to see another part of the city in one of the more demented auto rides I've had so far. The train became available for boarding a good 40 minutes before departure time. The coach number on my ticket was HA1, but I couldn't see an HA1 coach anywhere. I was forced to enlist the help of a couple of other passengers, who pointed me to the right carriage though I'm still none the wiser how they knew. I was glad that I had a reservation, when I strolled past one of the unreserved carriages and saw an unholy scrum of people attempting to board through every available opening - doors, windows, etc.

Most of Rajasthan still hasn't been converted to broad gauge, so the tracks are narrow and so are the trains. The corridor was so thin that I had difficulty manoeuvring my rucksack along it, and my heart sank when I saw the size of the cabin (the cabins were labelled outside with letters, but your ticket contains the berth number, so you have to look in every cabin to find your berth). There are 2 bunks in each cabin, with each bunk being a mere 6'1", which is not helpful for those of us over 6'1". I also had a top bunk, which has less headroom. The 2 windows are minuscule, and the whole effect is more like a small prison cell. There was already a chap in the cabin, who proved to be chatty and gave me some tips of places to see in the state. Shortly before departure, the 2 lower berth occupants appeared, an old husband and wife, though I had no interaction with them for the entire journey.

I was wondering how you were expected to get into the upper berth, figuring you'd probably have to belly-flop onto it then drag your legs up. However there's actually a small metal footplate that pulls out from the wall of the train that can be employed as a step. We were all given 2 pink sheets, a blanket, a pillow, and a towel. Apparently the bedding was better quality than usual because the President was supposed to be travelling by this train today, though he ended up cancelling.

Before getting into bed, the old guy donned a balaclava. I assumed this was to ward off the chill but, as various boiled egg smells wafted up from below during the night, I had to revise that assumption.

Lights-out was at midnight by common consent and, as I lay there in the dark with the train gently swaying, it seemed like this would be a pleasant trip to Rajasthan. After a couple of hours of blasting air-con, though, my bladder was fit to burst and I was faced with the dilemma of how to accomplish a mission to the toilet. Getting down from the bunk wouldn't be too bad - it would be impossible to go down the way I had come up, as I couldn't see the footplate let alone anything else on the floor beneath it, but it seemed feasible to just jump down, using my hands on both upper berths to slow my descent. There was just enough light coming under the cabin door to show that the floor was clear there. But how was I going to get back up? Trying to climb up using the footplate in the dark was too fraught with peril, and if I put the light on I would wake everyone else up. Worse, where the hell was the lightswitch? I sat and pondered with my blanket wrapped round my shoulders.

I shouldn't have worried, as it's clearly every man for himself in such matters. The guy in the other upper berth, when he also needed to answer a call of nature, slapped on the overhead light, jumped down with a loud thud, the combination of which woke the remaining sleepers, and that was that. I followed his lead, noting the location of the lightswitch for future reference.

The trip took 7 hours, even though it only covered about 250 km. I can now understand why buses are the recommended mode of transport in Rajasthan.

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Photos

(Not much) room at the top
A sleeper's-eye view of my train berth

Comments

[vijay]

i dont know why u foreigners used to complain about the dual system of tickets for monuments in india.although the same practice is adopted in the other western countries.u people dont write anything good u see here or feel here.

[vij]

let me tell you one thing that president of india dont need to travel by train.in case he needs to travel anyhow there are special predential saloons available with indian railways.

[Jabe]

Re vijay:
I didn't even give an opinion, let alone complain, about the dual pricing system. I merely stated a fact about how much it cost me to enter. Visiting any country is a mixture of good and bad experiences. I'm disappointed that you don't appear to have left a comment on any of my blog entries where I made positive statements. Perhaps it's you that's only looking for negatives in my experience here?