Riding the Indian Railways is a must for anyone visiting this great country. The subcontinent’s railway system, part of the British Empire’s legacy, is the largest kind in the world and one of the busiest. It transports MILLIONS of passengers and tons of freight daily, traversing the length and breadth of the country, as it covers 40,000 miles.
The excitement begins at the ticket counter when given the option of what kind of car we want to ride. Maybe a sleeper car? Or should we choose air conditioning? How about the second class car? So many choices for such an exciting experience. We decide to purchase seats in second class for the access to windows and fresh air. It is early during rush hour and I am reminded of New York during the heat of summer, crowded and pushy. Moving bodies of sweat everywhere. The smell of urine is awful. Everyone has somewhere to go, half sleepwalking while boarding the train. We find our seats and I plop myself right next to the window. Big and open, it allows me to take in the rural landscape of my beloved India. I am anxious and excited to see more of the countryside. As the train whistles and starts chugging forward, as the scene around me morphs into vast lands of green, untouched lands, I begin to appreciate the significance of this experience.
We pass farms with cows sporadically grazing in the morning sun. I witness shacks the size of closets, with no running water or electricity. I observe poor communities with nothing more than a few pieces of wood and some dried banana leaves for shelter. I wonder how people live under such conditions and feel blessed for my life’s abundance. I see countless outhouses, clotheslines, coconut trees, and rice patty fields. Undeveloped land stretches for as far as the eye can see. During the entire trip, every few minutes, a man dressed in a stripped shirt carrying a silver tank of his shoulders bellows “Chai, Chai Chai” or “Cappi, Cappi, Cappi,” and distributes little cups of the warm beverages for a mere twenty cents. Others walk up and down the narrow aisles selling everything from favorite snacks to books and lottery tickets.
The ultimate experience, however, is going to the bathroom on the moving train. I know it is not an easy task, but I am not prepared for this. I walk into the tiny space and there in the floor is the infamous hole. Except I see straight down to the tracks. This explains why the stations smell so bad! Whatever falls down the hole is splattered smack across the tracks. I will avoid too much detail but it is not easy squatting over a hole, holding up your clothes on a fast moving train and trying to aim appropriately. And let’s not forget there is no toilet paper! I definitely need some more practice. I'm not very good at it.
Upon arriving at our destination, I feel like I undertook some grand adventure. There is something thrilling about riding the rails, nostalgic reminders of a time gone by. I appreciate it as a unifying force, not only physically linking distant regions but it also connecting a myriad of people. Different castes, languages, and religions all dynamically moving, coalescing together. Its history is rich and its growth reflects the greatness of the country. Varied are the faces and countless are the stories on THE GREAT INDIAN RAILWAY.
