Train travel. What can you do?
The very first train we took in India was three hours late. Four of us, Martine and Christian just off the plane from Paris and Roxanne and I barely in India longer than that, met at the station in New Delhi at 6 AM. We left at about 9:45.
The cavernous waiting room of the station didn't have seats and the floor was already crowded with people, so we explored a bit and in time found the 2nd class waiting room upstairs, in which there were a few plastic garden chairs. Apparently some repairs had been done recently.
For the first leg of the journey, we traveled 2AC, which means our seats were in an air-conditioned sleeper car with two berths set up like bunk beds. Not bad. For the second leg the 2AC car was discontinued, and we were given seats in a 3AC car instead. Three berths on top of one another means that you can't sit up when the berths are unfolded.
We arrived in Benares at 6 the following morning. Walking single file behind a red-shirted porter with three pieces of our luggage on his head and one in his hand, we crossed the waiting room to the counter, where we hoped to get the refund due to us. We passed whole families sleeping on their luggage. Among the blankets, shawls, and papers laid in neat squares on the floor was one piece of newspaper. Aligned perfectly with the others, the only difference was that instead of a person sitting on it, there was a monkey.
Needless to say, the refund was not available. The proper desk would open at 8. "Eight?" Everyone chuckled. Not likely. The refund was substantial enough that Roxanne and I decided to wait. This time we found the cafeteria.
Roxanne managed to convince someone to open the desk and give us our refund a little before 10.
One of the differences between the west and India that struck me most is the level of patience, acceptance, in India. "What can you do," so often tagged on to the end of a story, is not a question — it's a statement. For me, being in a place where so much is accepted with equanimity was very comfortable, a state of consciousness I like. There's so much less tension when people are more willing to accept their lot: a refreshing change from bigger-and-faster-is-better, work-crazed America.
Acceptance, of course, has two sides. It does impede Progress, which is so central in the west. It is routinely blamed for having kept the caste system and other outdated customs like suttee in place.
But personally, I didn't mind waiting for trains. There's always so much to see, and sooner or later the train will come, after all. This is the way it is; what can you do?
The cavernous waiting room of the station didn't have seats and the floor was already crowded with people, so we explored a bit and in time found the 2nd class waiting room upstairs, in which there were a few plastic garden chairs. Apparently some repairs had been done recently.
For the first leg of the journey, we traveled 2AC, which means our seats were in an air-conditioned sleeper car with two berths set up like bunk beds. Not bad. For the second leg the 2AC car was discontinued, and we were given seats in a 3AC car instead. Three berths on top of one another means that you can't sit up when the berths are unfolded.
We arrived in Benares at 6 the following morning. Walking single file behind a red-shirted porter with three pieces of our luggage on his head and one in his hand, we crossed the waiting room to the counter, where we hoped to get the refund due to us. We passed whole families sleeping on their luggage. Among the blankets, shawls, and papers laid in neat squares on the floor was one piece of newspaper. Aligned perfectly with the others, the only difference was that instead of a person sitting on it, there was a monkey.
Needless to say, the refund was not available. The proper desk would open at 8. "Eight?" Everyone chuckled. Not likely. The refund was substantial enough that Roxanne and I decided to wait. This time we found the cafeteria.
Roxanne managed to convince someone to open the desk and give us our refund a little before 10.
One of the differences between the west and India that struck me most is the level of patience, acceptance, in India. "What can you do," so often tagged on to the end of a story, is not a question — it's a statement. For me, being in a place where so much is accepted with equanimity was very comfortable, a state of consciousness I like. There's so much less tension when people are more willing to accept their lot: a refreshing change from bigger-and-faster-is-better, work-crazed America.
Acceptance, of course, has two sides. It does impede Progress, which is so central in the west. It is routinely blamed for having kept the caste system and other outdated customs like suttee in place.
But personally, I didn't mind waiting for trains. There's always so much to see, and sooner or later the train will come, after all. This is the way it is; what can you do?
posted by Eve at 10:09 AM
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