The Doon Express – Train Travel the Indian Way

The Doon Express

I had spent the two months prior to India in Nepal, and because everyone else was doing it the conventional way round and going to India first I spent those two months listening to stories of India, getting advice about India and generally just getting excited about India. I came to a decision the trains were most likely going to be a highlight for me, and it was with the excitement of a little child that I finally booked myself in for a mammoth thirty-four and a quarter hours across the north of India from Haridwar to Calcutta on the Doon Express.

The date had finally arrived and I would like to say I was all giddy and excitable but unfortunately I had spent the previous week either squatting over a toilet or shitting in my pants and this had bought with it much suffering, weakness and all round general unhappiness. Getting to the train station seemed like an ordeal, the prospect of spending the next thirty-four and a quarter hours trapped inside a moving box with toilets that are nothing more than holes onto the moving tracks below, less that appealing to say the least.

Let me get one thing straight; I don’t like antibiotics. I believe we have an immune system which we should not only use when it suits us but strengthen by trusting in and constantly challenging. I abhor those hand sanitisers people use before they do anything and then wonder why their body has no natural immunity and they get ill all the time. I don’t even use fucking soap, that’s how hard I am. Anyway like I said, I’d spent the last week shitting my pants and I knew I had to do something. I stopped short of those devilish biotics but took something to stop me shitting and as a result only required the toilet facilities for their proper use on two occasions. I did though still feel bad the majority of the way and was in constant fear of emptying myself in my draws.

I boarded my train at quarter past ten at night and by eleven I was asleep. After the advice of others I had my top bunk, which I just about managed to squeeze into and lay down on my sweaty leather bed. It was roughly in line with the fans which therefore did more or less nothing for me. I looked around me to see I had been placed in the miserable carriage with equally unhappy faces; young and old alike. I decided I best not drink any of the chai as I doubted my stomach would appreciate it and lay down to sleep feeling all in all disappointed with the current situation and when I awoke I felt completely underwhelmed by the whole thing, questioning what all the excitement was about. I did though, when falling asleep, get a warm fuzzy feeling that I really was on the move, travelling and adventuring. The only other time I’ve really felt this was when I got the sleeper from Paris to Madrid and it’s a nice feeling; one which I hope others have had similar.

In the morning my neighbours looked as miserable as myself, and it was at that moment I had one of my realisations. Except for the extremes, people are simply reflections of ourselves. As I was giving out sad pathetic miserable energy; this was exactly what I received back. If you’re an angry man people will show you anger, the same goes with love, fun, happiness, sadness, tranquillity and so on. A friend of mine from Rishikesh who is full of love for everyone told me that families where sharing food with her and she them and that trains are great fun. That’s the energy she gives out so that’s the energy she receives. I was miserable and hated life, so everyone directed misery back in my direction, and life hated me. The problem was, I was too ill to do anything about it.

I fell asleep after lunch and a bit of diarrhoea complaining to myself about my fucking desire to experience India and not just see it. Well I was experiencing it alright, the harsh realities and all. When I woke I felt a little better and decided I should take advantage of it. I realised experiencing India is one thing but I need to see it too, that by doing one the other should automatically happen if you have the right approach. The approach I decided was required was to go sit by the open door and watch India go by. This cheered me up no end and I decided I should try and lean out the door as far as I could in a type of yoga move I had done once. Once as it turns out was a very long time ago and moving my shoulders back into place proved a little troublesome to the point where I had a little ‘O Fuck’ moment; but all turned out fine in the end and I got that little buzz you get from putting your life needlessly in danger just to try something that looks fun.

As I now felt a little better I took it upon myself to challenge my stomach; “Fuck you, enough is enough I’ve pussy footed around you and starved myself and all for what, more fucking pain and suffering. Well no more!!” At which point I stopped the man walking past with chai, then the man with the matar, then the man with the garam, then another man which chai, and another and another, and then a man with some chaat, and washed it all down with another lovely chai. And you know what, because I had blocked myself up, nothing happened. I was eating, tasting, experiencing, seeing and travelling; and I was happy again.

A day in the life of the India Police Force

At one stop six policemen came on escorting two prisoners. They were each carrying enormous rifles dating from what must have been the time of the British Raj, I actually thought they were muskets at first. They then sat among the other passengers or where they could find a seat, while one lay down and had a nap. You really have to love the Indian police. It was a ridiculous scene and provided me with much amusement.

Later two transvestites got on and demanded I give them money. I remembered watching a documentary a few years back about trannys in India and if memory serves me the locals fear them because they think they will curse them or something. Either way I have no fear of trannys and they got told exactly where to go, much to the approval of the man sitting next to me. He then gave me some advice and suggested that as the part of the journey between Varanasi and Calcutta was the most risky in regards robbery I should actually padlock my chain properly to the seat and not just have it wrapped around for show. I headed his advice. I chatted to him for a bit and he was a good guy.

In the morning as the train approached Calcutta and the majority of the passengers had got off I had my morning cigarette sitting with my legs hanging out the door enjoying the peace and the waves and smiles from the passengers in the other trains running alongside. The fact this was the first cigarette I had had since two days earlier which wasn’t smoked inside the dirty smelly toilet added somewhat to the beauty of the scene for me.

Despite it being nothing like I had imagined and there being times of hardship and suffering on my behalf, I enjoyed my first train journey in India. It was much fun and once I cheered up and got over my nonsense, I started embracing it all and it turned out great. I had done it, I had not just survived thirty-four and a quarter hours but I had taken it on and come out not just stronger but full of life and happiness too. Now just to find a guest house and a toilet before those pills wore off....