There are five classes on Indian trains: First class (two people to a compartment), air conditioned two tier (four people to a compartment) air conditioned three tier (six people to a compartment), sleeper (six people to a compartment without air conditioning) and Second class. In order to get a seat in any of the first four classes, you have to book well ahead. If you want to buy a ticket on the day you travel you can only travel second class. This means, of course, that the second class compartments are hopelessly overcrowded a lot of the time. There are other, local trains, where everyone travels second class, but these are frustratingly slow for long journeys.
I took a local train to Margao, where I was obliged to buy a second class ticket, since I didn't want to hang about there any longer than I had to. At the entrance to the second class carriage people told me that there was nowhere to sit, but I squeezed in. Six people were sitting on a seat designed for three, on both sides of the compartment. Piles of luggage and people occupied ever inch of the floor in the corridor. One man managed to lie across the doorway to the toilet and go to sleep. I found a sack with some hard, lumpy things in it to sit on. A young man reading the Bible gave me a cotton cloth to cover my legs. He thought my skirt was too short.
We chugged through thickly forested hills.
After three hours I got a luggage rack shared with an old man to sit on. He got off at the next station, leaving me in full possession. Covering my legs, I lay down with my face to the wall. Soon I heard loud shouting. I heard the words baggage rack several times and decided to lie low. Eventually the shouting died down. When I turned over I saw that the Bible-reading youn man was sleeping in the luggage rack opposite mine, snoring loudly. Eventually we ended up with two people on each luggage rack. I had a young man sitting on the end of mine, being careful not to touch me. I clung to my rack all the way to Hubli. When you manage to acquire a luggage rack you resist the disire to go to the toilet or get down for any other reason. The minute you move you've lost it.
When we reached Hubli at half past ten, the crowd of desparate travellers started to board the train before it stopped. When it did stop the hord pushed us back and scrambled in. We couldn't get out. Eventually a big man in front of me pushed the next man trying the climb up back and climbed down. Using him as a shield I climbed down too but my luggage was trapped by immovable people. I pulled, tugged, shouted and rammed it against their legs. They seemed impervious to pain. Eventually I managed to extricate it.
Not wanting to leave the station at that late hour, I took a room in the station, a huge, palatial room with an enormous bathroom and two beds. The floors were marble and the bathroom walls were tiled. The cheap price - two hundred and fifty rupees - was reflected in the dirty state of the room.
I was woken several times during the night by trains coming through the station, blarring their claxons at top volume. At five thirty I gave up trying to sleep. The whole town already seemed to be in full swing, taxis and rikshaws adding to the loud hum of people shouting. At six the muezzin began his chant. At seven I got up and went in search of breakfast. The trains that continued to shunt through the station were goods trains, carrying minerals, including coal.
I managed to book a ticket from Hospet to Hubli and one from Hubli to Madgao for the 31 Jan in AC 3tier. The only trouble was that the only train from Hospet to Hubli left at six thirty in the morning, arriving at ten thirty am and the only train from Hubli to Madgao left at eleven at night, leaving a very big gap in between, to be spent in a very boring town.
Then I bought another second class ticket to Hospet for the same day and got into another sardine squash carriage. This time I had a window seat. The countryside from Hubli to Hospet is flat with miserable looking crops, fields of maize with most of the plants missing, stunted crops of beans and sunflowers and a few little trees. Two young men were playing music on their mobile phones. I played them a few tracks on my mobile phone that they liked. But they wanted to watch a video and I didn't have any videos on my phone. Then they gave up their seats for a couple of old ladies. Later, when a few people left the train I got into a luggage rack and slept soundly the rest of the way. The other passengers woke me at Hospet, where I had the usual struggle to get out of the train.
A rikshaw driver met me on the station platform and persuaded me to let him take me all the way to Hampi. I was going to get the bus, but he took me right into the town and traipsed round all the low cost hotels looking for a room for me so I was glad I was persuaded.
I have ended up sleeping on the roof. But tomorrow I get a room.
I took a local train to Margao, where I was obliged to buy a second class ticket, since I didn't want to hang about there any longer than I had to. At the entrance to the second class carriage people told me that there was nowhere to sit, but I squeezed in. Six people were sitting on a seat designed for three, on both sides of the compartment. Piles of luggage and people occupied ever inch of the floor in the corridor. One man managed to lie across the doorway to the toilet and go to sleep. I found a sack with some hard, lumpy things in it to sit on. A young man reading the Bible gave me a cotton cloth to cover my legs. He thought my skirt was too short.
We chugged through thickly forested hills.
After three hours I got a luggage rack shared with an old man to sit on. He got off at the next station, leaving me in full possession. Covering my legs, I lay down with my face to the wall. Soon I heard loud shouting. I heard the words baggage rack several times and decided to lie low. Eventually the shouting died down. When I turned over I saw that the Bible-reading youn man was sleeping in the luggage rack opposite mine, snoring loudly. Eventually we ended up with two people on each luggage rack. I had a young man sitting on the end of mine, being careful not to touch me. I clung to my rack all the way to Hubli. When you manage to acquire a luggage rack you resist the disire to go to the toilet or get down for any other reason. The minute you move you've lost it.
When we reached Hubli at half past ten, the crowd of desparate travellers started to board the train before it stopped. When it did stop the hord pushed us back and scrambled in. We couldn't get out. Eventually a big man in front of me pushed the next man trying the climb up back and climbed down. Using him as a shield I climbed down too but my luggage was trapped by immovable people. I pulled, tugged, shouted and rammed it against their legs. They seemed impervious to pain. Eventually I managed to extricate it.
Not wanting to leave the station at that late hour, I took a room in the station, a huge, palatial room with an enormous bathroom and two beds. The floors were marble and the bathroom walls were tiled. The cheap price - two hundred and fifty rupees - was reflected in the dirty state of the room.
I was woken several times during the night by trains coming through the station, blarring their claxons at top volume. At five thirty I gave up trying to sleep. The whole town already seemed to be in full swing, taxis and rikshaws adding to the loud hum of people shouting. At six the muezzin began his chant. At seven I got up and went in search of breakfast. The trains that continued to shunt through the station were goods trains, carrying minerals, including coal.
I managed to book a ticket from Hospet to Hubli and one from Hubli to Madgao for the 31 Jan in AC 3tier. The only trouble was that the only train from Hospet to Hubli left at six thirty in the morning, arriving at ten thirty am and the only train from Hubli to Madgao left at eleven at night, leaving a very big gap in between, to be spent in a very boring town.
Then I bought another second class ticket to Hospet for the same day and got into another sardine squash carriage. This time I had a window seat. The countryside from Hubli to Hospet is flat with miserable looking crops, fields of maize with most of the plants missing, stunted crops of beans and sunflowers and a few little trees. Two young men were playing music on their mobile phones. I played them a few tracks on my mobile phone that they liked. But they wanted to watch a video and I didn't have any videos on my phone. Then they gave up their seats for a couple of old ladies. Later, when a few people left the train I got into a luggage rack and slept soundly the rest of the way. The other passengers woke me at Hospet, where I had the usual struggle to get out of the train.
A rikshaw driver met me on the station platform and persuaded me to let him take me all the way to Hampi. I was going to get the bus, but he took me right into the town and traipsed round all the low cost hotels looking for a room for me so I was glad I was persuaded.
I have ended up sleeping on the roof. But tomorrow I get a room.
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