Careful readers would have noted that Lucy and I wrestled a plan out of our Indian jolly whilst in the Himalayas; that being to get around the outside edge of the country by train in an unbroken circle. I’ve now realised that I’ve not written much about this very important part of our trip; let’s remedy that now but I’ll begin by saying whatever you read next, the Indian Railways are mighty indeed and we love them dearly with all our shared heart.
I’m loathe to promote anything on India Mike because they banned me for advertising (their accusation) before I had even logged in as a user or posted a single word (with no comeback at all) but this link here is actually an excellent article on Indian Railway ticketing.
By the wonder of the internet, we found booking trains not to be the trauma it once may have been for previous generations of travellers. As long as you have a reasonably long head in this regard and book with some foresight, there are a few 3rd party online agents such as ClearTrip who make the job quite easy. If you have a cash or credit card recognised by them you can even book direct with Indian Railways online.
You have to have your wits about you though; deciding the day before you want to go somewhere very rarely works out in your favour. Be mindful of festivals both in your current location and in your destination, for example.
Aside from these methods, sharpening your elbows and going to the booking office is still an option but remember that Indian queuing is no such thing – it’s more a fight for survival. Many large urban areas also have offices just for tourists to claim the small number of tickets per train that are reserved (until the last possible moment) for them. Not all destinations have these, however.
Now you must know of the kind of ticket you will book. If the seat is free and you have the rupes, it’s yours and all will be well. But there’s also a Waitlist that, if you’re a gambler, you can buy into just in case someone cancels. If they don’t you’ll get most of your money back. If they do, you’ll be on your way as long as that means you’re off the list. Remember though that many travel agents bulk-buy tickets just to throw the odds (for their own business purposes really).
If you’re a fool-hardy gambler you can wait until the last last minute before the train sets off when the aftermath of the waiting list, shaken down into reality, is sold off in an event called Tatkal, but to confuse you even more you can book this 6 days in advance but only for the whole train’s journey. Reserved Against Cancellation or RAC is another option at this late stage but you may just find yourself standing in the sink area without a seat.
With me so far? Good, let’s talk about class then. Do you want to go 1st Class? Good luck, these are often the most sought after by middle class Indians, are often booked out and are the priciest. If you’re expecting Orient Express type-service here you’ll probably be disappointed too.
Below that is AC Chair which is basically airplane layout with bucket-seated chairs and fold-back tables under air-conditioning. This is not good for long or overnight journeys unless you love travelling, or more importantly sleeping, sitting upright.
Next is 2AC or Air-Conditioned 2nd Class. These carriages consist of two-tier benches and come with curtains plus bedding such as blankets, sheets and pillows. Only very slightly scratchy but they always come to you clean, sometimes in brown paper parcels. Very often you get power sockets for laptops and mobiles in these cars too.
Below this class is 3AC which are almost exactly the same as 2AC but they are three-tiered, the middle ones folding up from their day-time position as the backs of the lower benches and are held up by whacking great chains. Bedding in these cars can be rare in my experience, I never saw curtains, rarely saw power points and unless you do the Indian thing and bring your own you’re going to be sliding around in your nylon sleeping bag or getting any exposed skin welded to the blue vinyl coverings that are found on all classes below 1st.
Generally, the cleanliness of each class decreases as the number goes up, the floor especially. Putting shod feet on the benches is taboo by the way but the cleanliness of your feet is nobody’s business but your own – go figure.
Next is Sleeper which is the same as 3AC but without bedding (without exception) and the cleanliness is several notches below. Oh and they lack the AC too. Ventilation is provided by the open windows which have 4 or 5 bars across them and a slotted blind that can come down in front to keep the worst of the weather out.
The best bet if you’re travelling as a pair, unless you’re over 5 feet 10 inches tall, is to always try and book the side compartments because they are only two tier in whatever class. Then you can hoof your bags on the top bunk in the day and you’ll not have to share the space with anyone else. They are shorter in length than the other options though.
The non-human fauna of all of the above classes can and will include cockroaches of various sizes, mosquitoes, crickets plus a few times we saw mice. These rodents will also see you and if you both recognise each other at the same time they will try and confuse by leaping up into the air, doing a somersault (really!) and scooting in the direction opposite to which they came.
Each of these kinds of carriage have two toilets and a sink at each end. The toilets, as you might imagine, descend into more of a resemblance of a circle of The Inferno according to Dante with each reduction in class; i.e. do not go in barefoot under any circumstances after the 2nd hour of the journey, but they will be clean if you get on at a starting terminus. You might not want to chance it then either…
Many are just keyholes with very slippery stainless steel footpads to crouch on but some have ‘western-style’ seats. There’s not much to choose between them in terms of facility.
The sinks are mainly used for the very Indian habit of hawking and spitting. Best to leave them to that function really.
I can tell you nothing of the Seating class which is below all of these – the reservation system I speak of above does not apply here and they are always packed to the gunwales with locals whom I feared would not appreciate backpackers and their bags. I never saw a ‘traveller’ on one of these but no doubt they are braved by some.
The trains themselves are huge and mostly blue in colour, much larger than British trains in width/gauge and carry thousands of passengers. Unless you have a zealous ticket inspector you’re more or less allowed to sit in the door area with the door open, open to the outside world; they close and lock only by means of clips at the top and bottom.
When you get on, the fight begins. You’ll fight the people coming out (and the people getting on will fight you when you get off), you’ll fight moving down the carriage to your seat and there is generally no quarter given in these periods of transit. If you don’t quickly claim the space under your own seat then other people will claim it for themselves. If you stop or hesitate for any reason you’re likely to get a bag rammed into your back as encouragement. After all is settled though, and the train is on its way, then everything is much different, nay calmer; the panic only really concerns claiming your space.
Be prepared for long strange stops, very often associated with your train being late out of the station. If this happens then your progress is secondary to any other trains on the line and if you have to sit in a sidings in the middle of nowhere for an hour then that’s what happens. Many was a time that most of the (mostly male) passengers would be sat out on the banks, smoking, preparing chewing tobacco and/or generally shooting the breeze.
So what of your fellow passengers? The best experiences (applicable to all classes) can consist of being given some of their home-made food, their Indian knowledge and their good conversation. The worst (applicable to all classes) can be along any or all of the following lines – being stared at without remorse for hours on end; being awoken by their screaming, gnashing nightmares; having stand-up rows about your seat which they swear is theirs (against all obvious proof to the contrary); having their kids fight and squeal and shout in your ear or all over you yourself; being smacked about by their luggage or having their finished food accoutrements thrown past your face out of the window.
This last point is the saddest thing about the whole experience. On each side of every railway track in India are two almost unbroken streaks of plastic chai cups, silvered paper plates, plastic bags, half-eaten chapati/samosi/biryani, still in their foil containers. It really is awful and absolutely everyone does it. I’m deeply ashamed to say that, on a particularly long journey on a carriage with no bin whatsoever and no hope at all of any other kind of disposal of left-over food, Lucy and I were forced to do it too. But it was only that once.
When a glimmer of shame about this terrible habit dawns in the Indian psyche, India will take a giant step towards being a much better place than the current garbage situation makes it seem to be.
On an overnight journey, be prepared to be forced to go to bed/sleep very early indeed. The Indian habit of early nights doesn’t end just because they’re on the hoof. 7 or even 8pm was common. But then they’ll be up at 5, brushing their teeth and making a racket, just as your insomniac self was getting some shut-eye.
You’ll have to deal with non-passengers too. These mainly take the form of beggars; low-level lepers, ex-working men who’ve had accidents leaving them without limbs or with s-bends in their upper arms, sadus, eunuchs, transvestites or self-employed floor cleaners who will wipe the deck beneath your feet with their own shirt (some will try and dip their hands into your bag too so watch out).
By far the best human aspect of the train experience are the food vendors. Mostly Indian Railway employees (but many self-employed chancers too who have to get on and off either at the same station or within a reasonable timeframe), these guys bring you hot drinks and snacks but, for Lucy and me at least, they also bring hilarity. They seem to have accents and diction peculiar only to them.
They call out their wares in Hindi, English or if you’re down south in Tamil, too.
Losing the specifics and subtleties for the sake of my story, tea is called chai in India and coffee is often ‘instant’ and referred to as ‘Nes’ coffee (an obvious corruption of Nescafe). Both will come in a 50 ml paper or plastic cup.
Chai will either be straight from an urn as is or sweet watered down milk will be poured into a cup with a teabag in it, always with the urn held between the knees while pouring. Some vendors (or wallahs) do both, some just one. On some trains there will be 8 of them but they will always come like buses; it’s all or nothing.
The most common calls as they thunder down the ailse are “chaichaichaichaichaichaichaichai” or “chaicoffychaicoffychaicoffy” or “chaichai, garram chai, chaichai, garram chai” or “chai-nescoffy”.
(Garram is Hindi for ‘hot’.)
Food is even better! To get an idea of how to pronounce the following correctly, try to imagine saying them both nasally and gutterally at the same time (wrinkle your nose and have a wee bit of phlegm in your throat). Try pulling your head into your shoulders a bit too.
“breed omlit” – an omelette with a slice of buttered bread
“veej cutlit” – a kind of spicy veggie burger patty, often shaped like a love-heart
“samosi garram” – hot (in both senses) samosas
“chicken lollypop” – we never worked out what this was
“veej/chicken birriuni” – Veg or chicken biryani
“panee bottel” – bottled water or Coke, Fanta, Miranda mango juice, 7Up etc but “pani” usually just means water…
Plus ice cream, doughnuts (but they are not sweet), chaat (onions, puffed rice, lemon juice, masala spices and other stuff in a newspaper cone) and much more besides in terms of food.
Then there were tracksuits, spidermen throwing dolls that stuck to and travelled down the window, keyrings, bedsheets, stuffed parrots, electric keyboards, newspapers and trashy books.
All this, and much more, awaits anyone travelling on the mighty Indian Railways.
Long may they streak stinky lines across mighty India; they’ll get you and millions of others where you want to go.
