The other night I went to the old Delhi station to catch the train for Pushka. as luck would have it, the only available seats were on the train that left at four-thirty in the morning. Taking the forty-minute taxi ride in the early hours of a new day whilst the city slept was an experience and a half. Driving through the dust-ridden potholed roads with only the miserable vagabonds and wild dogs roaming the streets as our companions can only be described as eerie. A multitude of old scruffy rickshaws abandoned for the night, and hundreds of enormous trucks and sinister-looking lorries paved our way. It doesn’t happen often, but when the taxi driver took a side turning, I started to get scared! One thing is for sure, and that is that when one travels alone, well, at least for me… all instincts of survival and protection come to the fore. Immediately I asked in an overly loud and agitated voice where we were going and if he was going to the old Delhi station. (I mean, well, you would never know if he was going to rob and rape me! and I didn’t want to get robbed!) The poor man replied, “Yes, mam ve go to zee statshone”. it worked out; he was simply trying to avoid all the chaos and cut through a shortcut to my destination… I suspect he thought, “I’ve got a right nutter here”, and was most probably more afraid of me than I was of him!
on arrival at the station… I could not believe my eyeballs. There they were!!! Hundreds of these bodies were lying everywhere on the floor! I nearly freaked out because my first thought was that they were all dead! I mean, excuse me, but where do you see a sight like that unless there has been a horrendous massacre? Taking a closer look and much to my relief, I saw that they were very much alive, some sleeping, some were awake, some wholly covered with blankets so much so, at first glance, you would have thought they were heaps of nothing. And then there were the ones sitting staring into space or as usual at me… (please note: – “the staring at me” is the bit I can never get my head around when I am in India. In my later years, I have come to realize that I am slowly becoming invisible! Occasionally, I ask the dear Lord to make me a little more visible from time to time. But please, if he has anything to do with the scrutiny, I get in this country. he has gone overboard. Jesus! I didn’t mean that visible!) so much for that little notation. Let’s get back to the crowds lining the grounds of the station. I confess that stupidly I thought they were all waiting to catch the train. It was only on reflection that I realized many of them were displaced people with nowhere to go, which is a sad fact of many countries I have visited.
The Indian train is an experience. It is understood that if you are a courageous, adventurous, and avid traveller, in other words, a stark stone raving mental lunatic. You should most certainly give the train a try… are you getting my message loud and clear? And by the way,
if you are a masochist, then the state bus is even better!
I booked a first-class sleeper as Mr google said that was the best. I always listen to Mr google! Why wouldn’t I? but now I wonder if he has ever travelled on an Indian train?
India has eight classes of accommodation on their trains, although only some of these classes will be available on a train. There is also the storage compartment like an enormous box with slats like something where you would transport cattle. There were more bodies in the storage compartment than there was baggage.
All three of my travel friends left the train at Jaipur, and I had the compartment to myself, or so I thought!!!! I read somewhere that the first-class comes with carpet etc., whoever wrote that has a great expanse of imagination, as I can assure you that there wasn’t any such thing in my compartment! primary, but I must say that I could live with it, and at least I wasn’t in the cattle carriage… I shared the compartment with three Indian gentlemen, and luckily, they were exactly that! “perfect gentlemen” one of them was from Jaipur but lives in new york. He was fascinating and gave me many tips for places to visit in India. He also filled me in many of his fellow men’s customs and daily life.
While writing this on the train, I could have sworn I saw something dash across the floor. Unbelievable, there I was in first class, and something was invading my space. Uuum not sure if it was an enormous cockroach or a mouse or what.
On arrival at Ajmer, the nearest station to Pushka, I was just about to struggle up the enormous flight of stairs with my backpack when this drop-dead gorgeous man asked if he could help me! But of course, he could! I would have needed to be out of my mind to have said no!! It’s not every day Backpackergranny gets such an incredible offer. How sad he was only going to take my suitcase for me and not me as well… he was from Turkey, and he told me his name was “Avi” a name I will never forget as that is the name for grandfather in Catalan! and I loved my children’s grandfather very much. This charming man took control of everything. He sorted the rickshaw to take us to the bus station and then arranged everything to get us on the most crowded bus I have ever seen in my whole life. Thanks to this fantastic person, I arrived in Pushkar safe and sound. Then to top it all, he even accompanied me practically to my guest house… once established precisely where my lodgings were, he stopped and said, “You are ok now. so I can take my leave” with that, he turned and disappeared into the crowds of people. I couldn’t help feeling that I would never see him again. (dam it)
Funnily enough, when I am on my travels, there is always a guardian angel waiting to help me wherever I go. are they real or have they just popped down from heaven to make sure I am all right? Who knows! But it’s comforting to think that someone up there is looking out for me.

More stories to come on my journeys through incredible India.

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