Rebecca Bundhun
Riding India’s vast railway network is always an experience.
As the outside landscape changes from crowded city slums alongside the rail track to green paddy fields and forests on lengthy journeys across the country, life on the train unfolds.
Families settle into their seating area in the shabby carriage, armed with bags crammed with steel and plastic containers filled with food. They chat among themselves and to nearby fellow passengers. Throughout the journey they work their way through a wide range of aromatic meals and snacks that they have prepared, at times retiring to the upper berths for a nap.
Vendors jump on the train selling their wares, ranging from children’s toys to ice-cream. The chai wallah, of course, appears without fail every so often, pouring boiling hot cups of overly sweet tea for weary passengers in exchange for a few rupees.
The smell of diesel regularly wafts into the carriages, as the train noisily chugs along the tracks.
Passengers come and go, jumping on or hopping off at stations in little known towns between the major cities, often from or on their way to even more remote villages in the surrounding areas.
Journey times are uncertain and trains can often lose hours along the way, stopping for long periods with travellers left unsure as to the reason why, or suddenly slowing to a snail-like pace for stretches.
The carriages are old and doors are precariously left open on the trip. A team of cleaners zips through the train before its journey while an attendant distributes clean pillowcases and sheets. But over the hours, the train becomes increasingly unkempt and dirty, with passengers often throwing rubbish on the floor or out of the window.
Time seems to slow down on such journeys, as the bright afternoon turns to a dusky sunset, which fades into nightfall, and it is with relief that the train finally screeches to a halt at one’s destination and you step off into the outside world.
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