Train Rides

Travel by train is the most common way to get around India. So common in fact that the standard seating cars are practically always overbooked and waitlists for first, second, and third class cars get up into the hundreds. In years past, it wasn't uncommon to see passengers riding on the tops of trains due to lack of space, or lack of a ticket, on the inside. The situation has improved such that you don't see people riding on the rooftops anymore, but the standard seating cars are still a classic example of Indian pandemonium. Experiencing the chaos first hand was as exhausting as it was thrilling.

To paint the appropriate picture, the train started off comfortable enough. Danny, Nick and I had purchased a reserved seat, so a place to sit was guaranteed. When the train left the first station, all seats were taken and there were a few people already standing in the aisles - a bad sign since we'd be picking up more and more passengers all along the way back to Delhi. Those standing had paid for a ticket to board but not for a seat. They'd be standing for the next 6-7 hours, well aware of how crowded the train car would get and also aware that there would be no air conditioning in this ticket class the entire way.

Gradually, more passengers boarded and soon the aisles were jammed so tightly with bodies, it was getting hard to breathe. Absolutely every possible millimeter of space was eventually occupied. Three people to each row had to smash ever more tightly into their chairs to allow a tiny inch for a standing passenger to rest his legs. If you were unfortunate enough to have the aisle seat, someone else's belly was regularly pressed against the side of your head; armpits were in every other person's face; passengers started sitting on the backs of chairs for more space; others were hanging out the doors of the train; and some braced themselves between the overhead compartments, a railing, and the side wall of the car. Mothers and fathers held babies for hours since there was no place for them to stand on the floor, and they'd probably be smashed in the next wave of passengers trying to plough through this human wall. If I had to guess, I'd say there were 300 people in that car with seats to accommodate 100. Add to this the heat and the sweat and the effect is dizzying. Heaven forbid you ever have to use the bathroom at that point. There's just absolutely NO WAY to get through that mass of bodies.

We endured these conditions for somewhere between 6 and 7 hours. I took note of one passenger sitting on the top of the back of the chair and decided to do the same for the last hour and half since I couldn't feel my legs anymore. Within minutes, the space that fit my body in the seat now only had room for my left foot which I used to support myself on the top of the chair. Space had become liquid - if it opened up, it was instantly filled by someone else.

Even though I was irritable and desperate for a shower by the end, it was actually remarkably fun! Observing all that was happening in that train car gave perspective on how the average Indian typically travels. It was the real India - not polished, sugar coated, or restrained. The real deal. I was fascinated by how many could cram into this car, the fact that they were willing to endure it, and the ingenuity that went into finding a comfortable perch. No where else have I ever seen this tolerated by travellers.

Sitting next to me was a man who works as a software engineer in Delhi. His English was perfect and he was returning from vacation in Naintal. We talked about my impressions of India, the people, the culture, how much has changed in only 10 years and where he hopes the direction of the country is going. As we passed through India's countryside in Uttar Pradesh, he identified the types of crops being grown in the fields flying by. He explained his views on the problem of rapid urbanization in India and the toll it takes on rural families who stay behind.

Across from me was a family of four also on their way home from a week vacation in Nainital. The parents were doctors from Jaipur and the husband had a sister living in Ohio. Their children were both under 10 but were exceptionally patient and content on the long, hot train ride. The mother asked if she could read the intro to my book, The Blue Sweater (a book about the author's work in economic development and micro-financing), and when she finished she, Danny and I began a long conversation about development in India and the state of healthcare for Indians. She happens to specialize in blood cancer patients.

As I sat there enjoying ever minute of these interesting conversations, I couldn't help but wonder what this family of doctors and this software engineer were doing on the cheapest and least comfortable train car available. It changed my impressions about certain aspects of Indian lifestyle. I had the impression that one wouldn't find businessmen or professionals traveling this way. But my assumption was apparently dead wrong. I didn't consider that this is how it has always been done in India. Up to 10 or 20 years ago, the ride was probably even less comfortable. But this was normal to them. Discomfort for a little while really isn't a big deal. True, it's disgustingly hot, but we all had water and strangers shared their packed snacks with everyone close by. All that pushing and shoving in pure desperation for space quickly turned into friendliness as soon as space was acquired. Competitive but kind. I guess that's how aspects of Indian life can be summed up.

Hot and uncomfortable as it was, that train ride may well be one of my favorite memories of India. I was able to laugh at the chaos, learn more about India's development through interesting conversations, and began to understand so much more about the culture without ever leaving my chair for 6 hours. It was awesome.

The picture doesn't do the experience justice, but just to give you an idea, here's a glimpse of how crowded the ride was:

Different Perspectives, Different Approaches

We’ve been here for four weeks now and I’ve started to notice that each of us is developing different perspectives of India. Of course, each of us come from different backgrounds and were bound to see India differently from the get go. But what I’m referring to is how we’ve each developed ideas about what India is based on where we work, who we talk to, and personal encounters in Delhi. It’s hard to tell the extent to which we are each influenced by internal factors – our personalities, experiences from previous travels, etc. – versus external factors – like conversations with those we work with. The line is blurred, but nevertheless, we are influenced by those around us. It’s been interesting hearing where those variances in understanding lie.

To a large extent, the differences manifest when we discuss travel plans and relay pieces of advice picked up from supervisors and co-workers in our respective firms and NGOs. For example, one firm will often emphasize caution at all times, counsel against buses or trains in favor of planes or hired drivers, and recommend high-end hotels. That’s one extreme, while the other is hearing virtually no travel advice beyond using caution. The rest of us get something in between. From this middle perspective, the difference between buses and trains is like quibbling over apples and oranges…with the exception that one reaches the destination faster than the other. The key is just getting a bus or train car that offers air conditioning. The concept of hiring a driver hasn’t been advised in the particular and the hotel we stay in doesn’t really matter as long as it’s in a safe area. Most of the advice I’ve heard falls into this range. No doubt, our respective offices are aware that we generally have no idea what to expect when we venture out of Delhi and prefer that we error on the side of caution, but it also results in varying comfort levels and travel intentions among the group.

Our ideas of Indian culture are also varied. There are two examples I heard mentioned this week. First, one of us remarked, “India is the country of ‘No,’” referring to the frequency that the word “No” is heard compared to the word “Yes.” When I reflected a little more on this observation, it actually occurred to me that I have picked up on the Hindi word for “No” weeks ago but still haven’t caught on to the word for “Yes.” When negotiating with rick drivers and souvenir shop owners, this is absolutely the case. The same answers in the negative are often heard when we inquire about travel advice. Some of us are frequently warned not to visit certain places, like Old Delhi, because of the chaos and crowds; never to be out after a certain hour; and that we shouldn’t travel to certain destinations. To do otherwise would be crazy! We’re still trying to understand the norms in India but considering these encounters it’s not hard to get the impression that the first answer to everything is no. On the other hand, there have also been situations in which I’ve made an inquiry about one thing or another and the immediate answer given is in the affirmative, but in the follow up nothing happens. Such encounters lead me to believe that India, at least in some instances, can also be the country of “Yes.”

The second example pertains to English as an official language and our estimation of how fluent most Indians are in speaking it. One of us commented that just about everyone in Delhi speaks English very well. I agreed that well-educated circles speak English brilliantly, but my experiences in Delhi paint a slightly different picture. I’ve observed a spectrum of English fluency, and outside the work environment communication is often a struggle. For example, when at a shop or in a restaurant the conversation might flow reasonably well as long as the topic is strictly confined to the context of the menu or the speaker’s shop. Any extra inquiries, and things usually get tricky. Language barriers are especially frequent with rick or taxi drivers whose command of English is generally the most limited. I’ve developed the impression that most Indians actually do not speak English very well and that it’s those whose career or education demands constant English practice who can speak it flawlessly. If this impression is true, then I find it somewhat perplexing to be in a country in which one of the primary official languages is truly spoken by only certain segments of the entire population. I have never encountered that phenomenon before.

One more observation is the difference between the men and women in our group have begun to perceive India. It’s obvious where I’m going with this - safety, particularly harassment, is constantly a more significant concern for women than it is for men. I’m at a point where I feel confident just about anywhere during the day, but when the sun has set, it’s a different story. Last weekend Krista, Danny, Nick and I went to Nainital to escape the heat. We had a fantastic time but when Krista and I split off to find dinner Saturday night, I felt considerably less secure. Nainital is a small vacation town and the streets were packed with pedestrians, most likely looking for a place to eat just like us. Despite the crowds, I was on edge. It’s the fact that we stand out in any crowd, the stares we get, the constant requests to pose for a picture, and the thought that if something actually did happen, no one would know where to look for me. I sometimes criticize myself because I really don’t know what I’m so afraid of. After all, stares really are that bad (as long as it’s just stares). I’m mildly paranoid that my camera or wallet will be stolen but that’s not the end of the world and I hear theft is rather uncommon. Had Nick or Danny been with us, I would have felt better. This shortage of self-confidence and dependence on others frustrates my usual sense of independence. Each of the women in our group has felt the same to some degree or another. For us, going anywhere alone calls for at least some additional precautions. As result, my perceptions of India and my place within it are influenced by stronger sense of trepidation than some of the men in our group.

Through travel recommendations, language barriers, simple inquiries, and safety tips we are each coming up with a different concept of what Indian culture is through the clouded vision of an outsider. The information gathered and filtered internally impacts our ideas on how to travel, what to eat, and what time to come home, whether or not to commute solo, how much to spend for the sake of comfort and safety, the list is unending. In the end, we each take India as it is presented to us and then strive to understand where and how we fit within it. The truth is all of our perceptions are correct to some degree. But I’m getting the impression that it’s impossible to understand the complexity of India without giving consideration to every piece and without admitting that there is so much more we don’t yet understand.

I recently read an old Jain fable that describes the foreigner in India well:

Five blind men wanted to discover what an elephant is like. After being led to the animal, each one approached form a different angle and felt with his hands that part which was within his reach. The man who felt the trunk said the elephant is like a snake. The one who felt the body disagreed and said the elephant is like a great wall. The man who felt the tusks further disagreed, asserting that the elephant is like a spear. The fourth man felt the tail and insisted that the creature is like a rope, and the last man having touched the leg argued that the elephant is like a pillar. They continued to argue, each certain that his own experience was the reality. Finally, a wise man intervened. He told that each man was right but had expressed only part of the truth. A true understanding of the elephant comes after discovering the whole beast as a unity of disparate elements.[1]

All nine of us are like the blind men, and the elephant is India. We sort of fumble about while trying to understand what Indian culture is and how to receive it. Initially, we latch on to one concept and proclaim, “That’s it! I’ve got it now!” That one aspect is enough, for the moment, to inform us how to carry on and how to fit in. Eventually, we realize that it’s not one but innumerable qualities that define a culture, and the cycle of discovery starts all over again. Like an elephant to a blind man, India is complex and baffling. It would take much longer than two months to figure it all out, but the process is a journey and India makes for an incredibly unique experience.

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[1] Gitanjali Kolanad, Culture Shock! A Survival Guide to Customs and Etiquette: India 2 (2008).

Shenanigans

Our excursions in Nainital came with quite a few fun and goofy pictures. I thought I'd share some of these along with a few more details of our activities up there:

Breakfast on the veranda outside our hotel. We had a great view of the lake and town below from this point. The best part was we could enjoy the view away form the sound of horns and traffic.

We had originally planned to ride elephants through a national park to see wild tigers but plans didn't work out. We settled for a trip to the zoo instead.

Krista communicating with the monkeys

Behaving like the animals

We took a car ride to the back side of the mountains for some amazing views,

as well as target practice.

A little bit of trail exploring

Conquering and/or discovering India

Boat ride we took around the lake at the end of the day

Weekend Travels - Part 2

Fresh Air

The next big adventure took us north to Nainital in the state of Uttarakhand. The goal was to ride elephants in a nearby tiger reservation park and stay in a cabin up in the Himalayan hills. Cabins, bonfires, tigers, and elephants? Heck yes! But one complication after another showed that no matter how hard we try to force our will on weekend travel plans, over-booked trains, the folly of underestimating distances, and miscommunications in broken English with testy hotel managers demands flexibility when planning.

Trying to book train tickets online has proven impossible. It worked once for the trip to Agra but ever since either the sites refuse to accept foreign credit cards or the site shuts down immediately after clicking "Book Here." It's like the site is taunting me. Travel agents have been recommended to us but they've been more or less unresponsive. At the last minute we found out that the train companies will sometimes reserve a certain number of seats for foreign travelers and this turned out to be the key to getting tickets. Unfortunately, Krista couldn't book with us for so many more complicated reasons than are worth explaining here but it really all comes down to the fact that she has a work visa ... and it's basically cursed. The best she could do was get on a waitlist and hope to be able to make it on the train with us. After pulling a few strings, it she received notification of a confirmed ticket two hours before departure time.

The four of us packed up and left the guesthouse feeling relaxed, ready for a soothing train ride, a weekend kicking back in the mountains. In truth we didn't know for sure if we really had a confirmed hotel, but you gotta celebrate the victories one step at a time. All that mattered at the moment was that we were going to get there. If it turned out the hotel would reject our confirmation, which we were fairly certain it would, then we were willing to bet a travel office in town could help us find a room somewhere else. Being a popular vacation destination for Delhiites, there were bound to be an abundance of hotels. The risk was that we might have to settle for another Hotel Raj.

When we hailed a rick driver, we realized there was a huge chance we destroyed our trip before ever getting out of Delhi. We had anticipated leaving from New Delhi Station but while pointing to the station indicated on the ticket to the rick driver, we realized we actually had to be at Old Delhi Station - at least 30 minutes farther than New Delhi Station. There was a good chance we'd miss the train. As if we couldn't cut things any closer, after passing through one traffic light, the driver stopped for gas as we shouted "No, no, go, go, go!!!!" We bailed out and ran to the next auto rick coming out of the gas station. But of course, he also managed to be the slowest and most cautious rick driver in all of Delhi. Of all times to find the one driver who actually obeys traffic laws. We rode most of the way in silence, each concentrating on the time and anxious for every traffic light to turn green.

We got to Old Delhi Station 10 minutes after our scheduled departure. Hoping there was a chance that the train was running late, we practically threw rupees at the driver and sprinted off to find the platform without looking back. Danny fell over a pile of rubble and nearly took out Nick in the process. Our bags flailed against others in the station - I'm sure we nearly knocked over a couple travelers. Compared to the crowds slowly moving through the station, we must have looked desperate and helpless. Then when we were just about certain that the train had already departed, we found it! I could hardly believe we cut things so close with so many set backs, and still made it on this train. The whole scenario felt like a flashback to fiasco at Newark's airport and the plane to Delhi we almost missed.

After celebrating the victory, we passed out on the beds and woke up several hours later to a very different India. The sun was rising over mountains in the distance, its rays piercing through misty clouds that hid the peaks from view. Between the train and the hills was flat, lush land, populated by tiny rural villages and small farms. The scene was the complete opposite of the cramped urban cities where houses are literally stacked on top of each other and trash is everywhere. Here, everything looked green, fresh, and quiet. We opened one of the side doors of the train and watched the peaceful countryside unfold as the train rolled slowly by. Locals began to emerge from their homes, brushing their teeth in the doorways, cooking breakfast over a fire, or just squatting in their yards while staring at the train. After an hour, the pace of life was starting to pick up: farmers were heading into the fields; mothers were washing children in the yards; stray dogs emerged and began scrounging for food in scattered garbage piles; and a group of teenagers were playing cricket in the open area of a pit used to park lorries. Meanwhile, the mountains were getting closer and curtains of rain formed in the distance.

We pulled into the train station at the base of the mountains, and took a taxi the rest of the way to Nainital. The ride took about another hour but the scenery out the window as we climbed the mountains was so beautiful, I hardly noticed the time. The windy road took us above, below, and though the mist. The clouds moved like a claw over the rainforest's peaks. Every now and then, white-faced gray monkeys scurried across the road. At the sharpest turns were signs warning drivers to reduce their speed and stay awake, but the choice of words were comically ominous. For example, "If you sleep, your family will weep"; "We value your life, not your speed"; and "If you are married to speed, divorce it!" Don't worry, we made it safely to Nainital at the top.

The town surrounds a tiny lake in the hills. From one end looking down to the other, it looks like the world suddenly drops off into infinity. It sounds blissfully peaceful but it's obviously a favorite vacation destination. The streets were busy with pedestrians, taxies were eager to take us to surrounding sights, and most of the hotels were booked. As expected, the other hotel refused to honor our confirmation. Fortunately it didn't take long to find a place to stay. It wasn't the cheapest place, but they offered breakfast, a driver to take us sightseeing, and the decor was really cool. It was an old summer palace decorated with animal skins and a perfect view of lake.

We had hoped to take a gondola to the top of one of the hills to catch a famed glimpse of the Himalayas, but decided to wait for evening since the top was covered in cloud. In the mean time we spent the afternoon driving through he mountains, appreciating other lookout points along the way, as well as a waterfall, and a crazed troop of touts shouting at us to pay for horseback trail rides. Knocking on the windows and chasing the car down the road seemed like an oddly aggressive tactic just for some trail riding. We kindly declined the offer.

Once back at the hotel, we tried again for the gondola ride but found out that they had sold their last ticket for the gondola ride to the top. We could have hiked but the sun was setting and we probably wouldn't be able to see much. So instead, we took a ride on a pink, swan-shaped paddle boat and watched the sun set behind the mountains before finding dinner.

The entire trip was a much needed break from the heat and polluted air of Delhi. The fresh mountain air reinvigorated my motivation to allow India to continue to grow on me, and the regular change in plans reminded me of the enjoyment that can accompany travel when you remain flexible and allow fro spontaneity.