Netravati Express

23 March 206, Day 4

I’m writing from a new environment today. Let’s see if you can guess where. Here are your clues:

1. It’s cramped
2. It’s hard
3. It’s hot
4. It has some of the mot beautiful views I’ve ever seen

If you hadn’t guessed from the title I’m on the Netravati Express train from Mumbai (Lokmanya Tilak Terminus in the middle of nowhere, but mre of that later) to Trivandrum. We are only going as far as Cochin (Ernakulam Junction). We’ve traveled for only a few hours so far, but we’ve already seen the Western Ghats and the countryside changing from hard farmed agricultural land and slum housing to a more rural, natural and even tropical back drop. I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.

There was a stage this morning when I wasn’t sure if we’d get on this train, or even still be in contact with one another. Yes, we got ourselves into a pickle – silly boys!
After leaving our stupid smart shoes behind in Mumbai and paying an inflated bill for our home for the last few days – Prabhat Colony – we set off early to miss the rush hour and catch the train from Santa Cruz to Tilak Nagar, close to Lokmanya Tilak. It sounds simple enough, but it didn’t work out that way. Getting onto a packed suburban Mumbai train with a full back pack is an incredibly silly idea. We managed to get a few stop down the line to Bandra (in a crammed first class carriage), after we realized that we needed to change train. With the temperature rising and tempers fraying, I found out that we needed to catch our train from platform 7. I wish I hadn’t bothered. James and I spent too much time wondering how a stray goat had defied to laws of physics and found itself onto raised concrete ledge to notice that the approaching ‘harbour line’ train was dangerously brimming over. Head down I launched into piledriving mode and forced my way onto the train, with my backpack clutched behind. When I started getting pushed from all sides, I started to panic abut where James was. I couldn’t see anything in the unlit shaded interior of the car. Admist a forest of hands and arms, I couldn’t see the man next to me. I called out to James, but there was no reply. Had he got on the train? I really thought I’d left him on he platform, but reality could have been far worse. Jim was hanging on by one hand to the outside of the carriage. After James shouted back, I kept hollering instructions about a station to get off at, but I thought we wouldn’t be able to get off until we reached the terminus. The commuters started laughing at our increasingly frightened and vexed dialogue and started mimicking us. I wasn’t really in the mood for this as some of other passengers noticed, and they tried to help me by beckoning me into their compartment. This only made the situation worse, as I was further in, and James announced he was getting off at the next stop. I knew I wouldn’t be able it make it in time, but with a rush and a push we both made it close to one door. The crush was scary and even the locals were getting angry (probably at being hit in the face with backpacks). Finally at the next station we went for broke and stumbled off the train knocking several people over in the process. We were amazed we’d kept hold of our backpacks and come away unscathed. As James said, the 350 rupees we spent on a taxi to Lokmanya Tilak terminus was the best we’d spent since arriving.

We kicked around for a bit in a massive ticket hall and waiting area once we'd arrived at the station, as we were over an hour early for the train. Here we identified some other backpackers who were clearly too worldly to talk to two buffoons who couldn’t even catch a local train without causing a rumpus. After stocking up on water and biscuits, we found our way to the train, finding our names on a print out taped to the carriage door. We cruelly spurned cash to several beggars, but happily shared our cracker biscuits with them. Once we’d made our way on to the train, and James had thrashed me at travel chess, a never ending stream of traders, beggars, singers, vendors and transvestites wandered past looking for our rupees. Making a living, one way or another, never stops and will adapt to any situation in India it seems.

We ordered some lunch from one of the red-shirted official vendors. Veg. Biriyani and roti. The same meal we’d had for the previous 6. At 30r it was the best value substantial meal we’d eaten in India; three foil trays: one rice, one dahl and one sauce. There was also a plastic bag of milk (we think it was milk) and a water sachet to wash your hands with. Among the more interesting snacks also on offer were a cucumber/corgette looking vegetable which was peeled, cut into four length wise and filled with something looking like burger sauce in the middle. I wasn’t adventurous enough to try it. The heat is building so I’m off to sleep…