Riding India’s Trains: 101

We were really lucky to have two volunteers – Thaya and Marc –  with us in India for six months and five months respectively, from August to February 2011. The consistency was wonderful for the children and the organization.One of the volunteers was Marc Valentin. When Marc left at the beginning of February 2011 he said:

Riding India’s trains: 101

By MARCEL VALENTIN — Special to Canoe Travel

Nothing says more about India than taking one of their magnificent trains.

A legacy of the British Raj, the train system is expansive and efficient. You can set your watch by it.

The train serves two purposes in this country. The first is to ferry foreigners like me all over the country to various sites. The second is to transport Indians to the place in the country that is furthest away from their home so that they can attend a wedding.

Chatting with our fellow train travelers, everyone is going to a wedding and it’s usually for someone they don’t know.

“Yes, my mother-in-law’s neighbour two doors down has a man who delivers milk and that man’s uncle comes from the same village that his father came from and his father’s father came from. Now his father’s father sold a Pepsi to a taxi wallah. It is his daughter who is getting married. Would you like to come? The wedding is rather short at only four days, but I am sure that you will have a wonderful time.”

Seriously, everyone is going to a wedding and complete strangers invited us to weddings of people that we and they don’t know.

Now, this next subject is rather delicate and you may want to skip it. If so, then I’ll say thanks for reading up to here and good bye.

However, if you are planning a trip to India and planning to take the train, then you MUST read this! You are going to have to know this. It involves a rather delicate matter and that is going to the bathroom on an Indian train.

First, let’s back up a bit. We hopped on board at Mumbai’s Lokmanya Tilak station and departed. We chatted with fellow passengers for awhile, munched on some delicious naan that we bought at the station and sat in the train’s open doors, blissfully watching the green hills roll away as we chugged through the countryside.

Well, nature eventually came a calling. When the train stopped at the next station, I got up, stretched and sauntered over to the two closets that are at the end of each car. I slowly opened the closet door and was amazed how bright it was.

I was a little pensive at first because the fixture I was most concerned about did not have the familiar American Standard or Crane logos embossed across it.

In fact, I was astonished to realize that the source of the bright light was a hole in the floor that looked down to the tracks. On either side of the hole were two stainless steel footrests that looked remarkably like the pictures of Neil Armstrong’s footprint on the moon.

So, I took my one small step (trust me, it was a giant leap for me) and adjusted myself so that each foot was firmly planted. Hey! This isn’t so bad after all.

After a few moments, the train lurched forwards with a big jerk (no, not me). Whoa! Okay. That’s not so bad. Just a little bump in the road.

But the bumps progressively became more and more frequent. By this time, the train was picking up speed and I was relying on my shins to absorb the lateral motion of the accelerating train. As the train picked up speed, my thighs kicked into action to absorb the up and down motion. It felt very similar to riding a horse.

A small sweat broke out on my brow. Hmmm. If that one-eyed fellow could ride Sea Biscuit to victory, then I can still do this. Faster and faster. Okay. I got the hands up in front of my face for more balance.

By this time, the train was racing down the tracks at full speed. STOP THE TRAIN!!! PLEASE!!! My backside was pumping up and down like an oil well on steroids and whenever I looked behind to check on Secretariat, my eyes focused on my wallet and passport dangling out of my back pocket about to be sucked down into the bright light.

PLEASE! SHIVA, LORD OF YOGA… FIND ME A NEW POSITION! I was balling my eyes out at this time, but I was coming down the home stretch praying that the grey water swirling around in the sink would cease splashing onto me.

Finally, I crossed the finish line. Okay. Now some toilet paper and I can get out of this hellish position. Hmmmm, none beside or behind me. Is it above the sink? WHERE IS THE TOILET PAPER?!!

Well, Indian trains have none. As shocking and terrifying as that was, my heart literally froze as I came to the realization that the water tap, which was about two feet off of the floor, was not a drinking fountain. I’d have to deal with that unsettling realization later.

Next problem. Each Indian note has Mahatma Gandhi on it. He has this cherubic smile and I couldn’t deface him in this way. So I tore him off a few notes and shoved him in my pocket. However, I couldn’t help but think that he was saying, “All my life, I have shunned material possessions and non-violence. But you, my stupid Canadian friend, and your toilet paper… I would have you shot dead like a dog in the street.”

The deed done, I gathered what was left of my pride and quickly scurried out the door and back to my seat.

My partner noticed my abnormal silence and asked, “Why are you blinking? How was it?” What else could I tell her but, “If you don’t bring a roll of T.P., then it quickly becomes a pay toilet.”

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Thank you Marc for your dedication to the One! children.

Thank you for sharing your story.