Train travel in India

The only thing you can count on is that it’s never boring!

If there is one accurate statement I can make about the way the trains in India, it is this:

I not only don’t understand how the system works, but I’m not sure that any foreigner would be able to figure it out without a significant number of charts and graphs.

Some of the details of my train travel in India:

Delhi to Agra

After two nights in Delhi, I was off to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. I was one of four foreigners on the train. All of us had chosen the normal class of seating, and even though we had booked our seats separately, we were seated together in the same berth of two four-person benches facing each other.

Maya, a young Israeli woman, had just completed her military service at home. She had already been in India for several months. Her knowledge of basic Hindi was impressive. She offered to take out her notebook of useful phrases and teach me what I wanted to know.

The next morning, Saturday, it was back to Delhi for me. The train stations have dedicated windows at which foreigners are supposed to buy their tickets. When I went to that one, I found out that this applies only up to one day before the journey. Otherwise, you take your chances with everyone else.

From Delhi to Agra, we had been in a standard second-class car. This time, I thought I would check out air-conditioned comfort. It is not that hot here, but I wanted to see what that would be like.

The ticket seller told me that he could not sell me a ticket for the air-conditioned (first class) car. I would have to buy the second class ticket, go to the seat I wanted in the first class car, and then pay the difference to the conductor when he came around to check tickets.

So I did just that. Once again, the seating was on padded benches with straight-backed seats, enough space for four people facing four. Sleeping berths were above.

One small compartment had only one woman and one man in it, so I asked if I may sit there and the woman nodded yes.

After more than half an hour of this relative spaciousness, a small group of men came to join us. They were extremely friendly, helpful, and inquisitive, with varying degrees of English ability. Their spokesman was the most fluent in English, and asked a lot of questions.

I thought it was a strange scene, with one woman sitting by herself among all of us men. This was not clarified until a train salesman came down the aisle selling water. The spokesman of the small group of men bought a bottle of water and, without even speaking to the woman, passed it to her. Hmmmmm… could it be his wife?

Previously, the man had mentioned that he was just coming back from Goa. I asked him if he had made the trip by himself. He said no, that he had gone with his wife, and nodded over toward the woman. Yes, then: it was his wife.

Delhi to Dehra Dun

I arrived at the New Delhi Railway Station by autorickshaw with two large bags, which is more than I usually have. Fortunately, there are many porters who work in and around the station. You don’t have to look for them! They will find you!

The one who assigned himself to me was a skinny and haggard-looking man who appeared to be in his sixties. He grabbed both bags, put them on his HEAD (!), and was able to make his way effortlessly through the traffic and the crowds, up the stairs, across the pedestrian bridge, down the stairs, and to the train platform. I had only a small daypack with me and I found it hard to keep up with him!

The train I wanted was called the Shatabdi Express. The trains here all use a variety of nomenclature to indicate speed. (The one from Agra had been “Superfast” but was anything but.) It reminds me of the naming of olive sizes; you rarely see small or medium — — just large, extra large, jumbo, colossal, and super colossal. Same with the trains here!

Inside the train, we were seated three abreast on one side of the aisle and two on the other. All the seats on the train were sold out, so it was a good thing I had purchased my ticket the week before.

When I made this reservation, they told me there would be a meal service, and that it was included in the cost of my ticket.

They handed out bottles of water, newspapers, cookies with tea, and a breakfast of bread with jam. It made me long for the other kind of train, in which the salespeople came through the car with a greater variety of food.

Chennai to Auroville

In considering how to get to Auroville, my main options were the bus or the train. I decided on the train, even though the trip was longer that way, because of the erratic practices of the Indian bus drivers that I have previously encountered.

The train for Pondicherry, the nearest station to Auroville, left Chennai at either 6:30 or 18:30. I opted for the morning departure. There was no first-class or air-conditioned car on the train. The lack of air conditioning did not turn out to be a problem, as the ride was not very hot and all the windows remained open at all times.

The seating, however, was uncomfortable to the extreme: metal slats on the bottoms and backs, with the backs at only slightly more than a ninety-degree angle (maximum of 93 degrees, and I am not exaggerating). The trip took five and a half hours, compared to the advertised three hours that the bus is supposed to take. The cost was INR 31, [$.70].

Thiruvananthapuram (Trivandrum) to Kanyakumari

I got to the railway station at 13:00 to get my ticket for the 13:20 train to Kanyakumari. I had wanted to get the ticket yesterday, but they told me there were no advance sales tickets for Kanyakumari; they are sold only on the day of the journey.

I had also asked for the schedule yesterday; that is how I came to choose the 13:20 departure time.

I asked the clerk at the window for a ticket for the next train to Kanyakumari. He replied, “That’s at 3:45.”

You’re joking me! I told him that I had been here the day before and they had told me there was one at 1:20.

He replied, “Yes.1:20.” And then he sold me that ticket.

The train trip was fairly uneventful, but there was something funny that happened. By the time I got on the train, it was standing room only. I walked through several cars looking for a seat. I found two seats facing each other, with occupancy for four people. There were three women sitting there, which meant room for one more. But the signage above said “LADIES ONLY.” Others nearby were marked GENTS/LADIES, but not this one.

I declined to sit there because of that sign. Then one of the three seated women beckoned to me to join them. I guess it’s okay to sit there if the women consent. Not sure of that.

Though it was all right with the women, there was one guy a few seats over who kept on looking at me, pointing, and muttering something. He never came over to talk about it, but he seemed to be upset that I was sitting where I should not have been. Had he come over to make his complaint, I gather that the women would have set him straight, but he simply stayed where he was.

Madurai to Bengaluru (Bangalore)

I checked into my hotel and then headed to the railway station to be sure I could get a reservation on the overnight train a few days later when I was going to leave Madurai. The process turned out to be quite complicated:

I should add that just to be sure that there were no misunderstandings with spoken language, I had prepared in my notebook a page on which I had written:

19 DECEMBER

A. C.

SLEEPER

TO

BANGALORE

[Note: A. C. = Air Conditioned]

After waiting in the queue to buy tickets, and upon handing over the note, the agent told me I needed to go to another building to buy my ticket.

Once at that building, I waited again and was told that the train I wanted was booked, but that I should go upstairs, see the supervisor, and get a ticket from those reserved for the foreign tourist quota.

After waiting to see the supervisor, he told me that I would be number 31 on the waiting list. He sent me to another line, telling me to buy my ticket and then come back to him.

That was really puzzling. Buy my ticket? How do I buy a ticket for a sold-out train on which there are no tickets?

Never mind the questions. Just follow orders. So I went back to an agent, telling her that the supervisor told me to buy the ticket. She sold me one. I couldn’t believe the price: only 155 INR ($2.50) for an overnight train, in an air conditioned sleeper car? There had to be some kind of mistake!

Anyway, I brought the ticket to the supervisor. He had me fill out a form that was titled REQUEST FOR EMERGENCY TOURIST QUOTA. Once I did that, he told me to return to him the day of the trip (Thursday) and that he would then give me my ticket.

I asked him, Do I really have a ticket? How could there be no ticket a few minutes ago and now there is a ticket?

He responded, “99% sure.”

On the day that I left, my first stop was the railway station to see about the waiting list for the train to Bangalore in the evening. The woman at the supervisor's desk told me that my reservation had already been sent for ticketing and that I had nothing to worry about. I should come back at 17:00 to get my berth allocation.

In the evening, I could see that I had a car and berth number to assign to me. The train was supposed to leave at 19:50, but it was late in arriving and departing. I could see right away that there was nothing close to private A.C. berths on this train. I was in a window seat, one of three seats facing three others. There was nothing about this that looked like a sleeper — unless you consider sleeping sitting up as a sleeper.

Something struck me when I saw the train: I asked for a sleeper with A.C. and this obviously was not one. Shouldn’t the agent or supervisor who sold me the ticket have said something along the lines of, “We have a train to go to Bangalore and we can sell you that ticket, but it’s not in an A.C. car”?

Without having done this, they made it seem like they were selling me what I asked for, and this was most assuredly not what I had asked for.

Once we got going a conductor came by to check tickets and identification. He matched the information against a printed manifest.

After a while, a man in drag came through the car. At each set of seats he clapped his hands twice and held out his hand. Two of the four people in my seating area gave him money. [I later learned that people like this are called hijra and are in a recognized category of intersex, eunuchs, and transgender people.]

About an hour into the journey, one of my seatmates climbed onto the top bunk. I was happy to see that, as it meant that there would be space for me to stretch out a little bit on my own seat.

Once I did so, one of the people in the area asked me if I wanted to lie down. I said yes. And then the magic happened: the padded back area upon which we were leaning was raised 90° and made into a flat bed, now providing each of the three of us with a sleeping surface.

I was so relieved that I didn’t have to sit up during the eleven-hour trip!

Not having A.C. was not an issue, as it was December and the air temperature was quite pleasant. In fact, by the middle of the night, with one of my windows stuck in a partially opened position, it was quite chilly.

I slept off and on during the night. It wasn’t the comfy experience I was hoping for, but it also wasn’t terrible. I must say, however, that I would not look forward to doing it again anytime soon.

Conclusion

Ultimately, I have to resign myself to the fact that if I want everything to be the way it is at home, I may as well stay at home.

One’s best assets when planning trips and taking trains are (1) a sense of adventure and (2) the ability to go with the flow, wherever it may take you. If you can’t be sure to have those with you, you are headed for frustration and stress.