On the train from Delhi to Bangalore

Rein checking in -

"I'm writing this on the train (there is no internet connection of course, so I'll just upload this post to our blog next time we can) somewhere in between Nagpur and Hyderabad, while the lush, green country side, alternating between wet lands and cotton fields, rolls past my window. It truly is an incredible experience, training right through the subcontinent from the North to the South.

I have to admit it was all a bit of a shock as we got to the busy Nizzamudin station (the "gare du midi" of Delhi). We were really grateful that our friends G. & S. had sent their car and driver out to bring us there. The driver expertly dealt with the flocks of coolies, picking a reliable character, ensuring he will get us on the right train, compartment and seat, and also agreeing a fair fee for carrying our 7 (!) bags there…

All went well, getting to the platform and waiting for the train to arrive. Then when it did, there was mayhem all around. We soon lost our coolie (with our baggage!) being stopped by a train official who tried to send us to a different carriage than the one we had seen our porter board the train into. Luckily we managed to convince the official to let us on board at the same entrance, only to find a long, narrow corridor with people scramming to find the best spot for themselves. As we pushed through the throng we found our porter again pointing to our 40 cm wide berths, above each other, in the corridor. What happened to the 4 berth compartment we were promised? Panic started to set in, considering where we were going to put all our luggage in the corridor and still have space for both of us to sit for 36 hours (let alone sleep…). We double checked the ticket. There was no mistake. We were placed in the corridor, separated from our fellow passengers walking past, up and down to the toilets (which on my inspection all appeared to be a filthy gaping hole in the floor over which one scats to relieve one's self), by an old, browny (was that its original colour?) curtain attached to our berths…

This is where Simon gets into his own (scarily similar to his mother). Instantly, while I stand numbed as if shell shocked, he takes charge of the situation, figuring out a way in which to place our large pieces underneath the berth and hanging up the other bags on various hooks and suspensions to free up the sitting space for us to plonk down. We managed to settle in some what and orient ourselves on the train. We appeared to be the only non-Indians on the entire thing. All around us are hundreds of happy campers, ranging from trade travellers, business men, students and whole families, settling in for their respective journeys. It dawns on us that it will be virtually impossible to get any peace and quiet for the next 36 hours, wedged in between our items, having to remain vigilant and with roughly one square-meter of personal space. This is when we see an equally bewildered group of travellers scurrying past us in the opposite direction with their luggage and it occurs to me that, maybe, just maybe an upgrade to the next class may be possible.

The conductor comes past to check our tickets and I politely enquire after this. He sternly investigates his reservation lists, repeatedly confirming that, indeed we are travelling all the way down to Bangalore, the terminus of his train. When he starts wagging his head we both get a jolt of anticipative excitement and yes, if we are happy for two upper berths only, then we can move to the one and only carriage on the train with individual double and 4-berth cabins. I ask him if I can have a look and make my way to the very back of the train to the last carriage where I find a four berth cabin with a single, corpulent, bare footed, paan chewing government official, but hey the luxury of space, even when shared with this gentleman, is too appealing to let go. So I hurry back to agree the upgrade with the conductor and start hauling our bags along the train corridor, over legs, boxes, crates and what have you to our new "luxury retreat" on the Rajdhani Express!

Once settled in, we relax and enjoy the three course dinner service, which is brought to our compartment by two dedicated valas, before settling in for the night on our berths suspended in the air. Even the fact that our compartment companion has turned on his music box to play non-stop Bollywood love songs does not faze us as we doze off on the rhythm of the train into a deep, and contented sleep.

The next morning we wake up around nine for a breakfast of coffee and omelettes and are enthralled by the views of rural India gliding past through our window. Around mid-morning we stop at Nagpur, where our travel friend gets off and is replaced by a friendly, young professional, on his way home to Bangalore, a city of which he speaks with lots of love and warmth. I realise that's what Simon and I are too, on our way home to Bangalore! Life is good."

- Rein checking out