Taking the express train to Kerala

Final moments in Delhi, waiting to board

I stood in the doorway of the moving express, window open as the train shuddered, slowed and squealed to a halt. Catering trolleys had already moved into place on the platform, I was hopeful and hungry, craning my neck to see what was available.

It was a nutritional nightmare. Garishly packaged crisps, biscuits and soft drinks festooned the trolleys along with the latest Indian hybrid street snack, bread pakora (white sliced, buttered, battered and fried).   

It was an overnight journey from Delhi to Rishikesh, there was no pantry car and I was empty handed.  I arrived ravenous and grumpy, putting it down to experience.

So I wised up for my current trip, a thirty three hour jaunt from Delhi to Kerala onboard the Rajdhani Express, two full days and one night. Meals, snacks and drinking water included. I had researched and planned my intinerary to perfection.

The shortest, fastest route was a flight to Trivandrum, but that didn’t feel right; as though I was cheating myself out of some magic. I was growing to love the Indian Railway experience and in particular the excitement and romance of the sleeper.

Two thalis a day, plus snacks

Two thirty in the afternoon, day one. I had left my compartment as my travelling companions had, post-lunch, tucked themselves into bed, drawn the curtains, extinguished the lights and were taking an extended nap, snoring in unison.

I located an empty berth, and sat watching the Indian countryside gliding past my eyes. Greenery, electricity pylons, an auto-rickshaw pootling along a dusty road, glimpses of corrugated roofed dwellings, nothing remarkable.

Then a beautiful flat glassy ribbon of water appeared, moving in parallel for a few minutes before widening out and becoming a lake.

As the carriage swayed, jiggled and bounced along, I closed my eyes and focussed my attention on the sounds of the train, it became a meditation. The rushing of air as we entered a tunnel becoming a roar as we emerged. The rattling of wheels on rails, metal moving over metal was regular, rythmic and comforting.

Finding personal space became a priority, I was sharing a berth with three designated companions and the guy from the adjacent compartment liked to hang out with us too. I always choose the upper berth (seats are strictly reserved in advance). It's a safe retreat and you can sit on the lower bunks during the day if you are feeling sociable.

Upper berth,  2AC class

In the upper berth opposite was Christian, a pleasant natured and attractive Italian, who true to his roots was dressed in smart denim, tan suede loafers and a white shirt that mysteriously remained pristine throughout.

Chrisian was headed to Gokarna, a temple town in Karnataka with four heavenly beaches, for the fifteenth successive year.



In his youth he travelled sleeper class, cramped yet economical. You arrive with black face, dirt everywhere, destroyed!  These days he appreciates clean linen and air conditioning.

Sunil and Prabha occupied the lower berths, now resident in Chicago, they were on a five month tour of their Motherland and were excited about seeing Kerala for the first time. They were a charming couple in late middle age and very interested in my life story, sadhana and connection to India. They spent most of the ride in a kind of sleep stasis, waking for meals, chatting for an hour or two before resuming their slumbers.

The train made several stops, an opportunity to exercise by walking the length of the platform, always with an eye on the station clock. As the hours passed and the journey progressed, I grew increasingly tired and lacking in energy. Which probably had a lot to do with the carb laden starchy meals we were served.  Sometimes I would pop out for a five rupee chai, slump onto a bench and enjoy the colourful cavalcade of passengers, coolies, vendors and mendiants congregating and swarming around me.

Madgaon station, Goa

By the time we reached Goa, lunchtime day two, I was semi-comatose through swinging blood sugar levels and lack of sleep. I stumbled out of the carriage mechanically into the brilliant midday sunshine and something unexpected and completely wonderful occurred.

In an instant, my inner being recognised the warmth, humidity, jungle greenery, bright bougainvillea and intangible mystical essence of Goa.


It felt like a home coming and I was reminded how much I loved the lush verdant south of India, benevolent and welcoming, like a mother.

A few hours later I alighted at Kannur in Kerala.  I was somewhere new, unplanned and ready for the unexpected, nerves and excitement mingling. I checked into a simple looking hotel just off the main road. As I rummaged through my day pack for my passport, the red tambourine that I bought in Delhi tumbled out and clattered to the floor.

The receptionist smiled broadly, Madam, you are musician? He enquired.

Bhakti yoga, bhajans I responded and showed him the tiny pair of hand cymbals I also carry around.

Radhe! Radhe! Radhe! He exclaimed, clapping his hands together in delight. Madam is going to ashram in Kanhangad?

Yes!

Very nice place, very nice place, Madam will like!

Conversations such as these no matter how brief, go a long way when I am tired, nervous and stepping into the unknown. Small blessings that carry me forward, feeling strengthened, encouraged and very grateful.

Blessings on all our journeys!

Jennifer

Plan your virtual travel around India  www.indiarailinfo.com

Tickets need to be booked as far ahead as possible. Ideally request the foreign quota which is only available in person at railway stations at the discretion of the manager. You will need photo id ie passport.

Otherwise, use a travel agent. Indian trains are often sold out well in advance, however last minute travel is possible, there is an emergency tatkal quota bookable two days ahead for an additional fee.