The karmic railroad
Trip Start
Sep 15, 2007
1
19
20
Trip End
Dec 15, 2007
Mumbai (Bombay),
India
Thursday, December 13, 2007
there's a daily train from bhuj that goes to mumbai leaving at 8 pm and arriving at noon the next day. i had been having pretty good luck with buying train tickets only a few days before the departure. the train to mumbai was the only ticket that i decided to buy well in advance (two weeks) and so (naturally) it was already booked out. i was number five on the waiting list and everyone at the booking office kept telling me in their official capacity that i would definitely get a berth. i checked on my ticket a few days later and i'd moved up to number three on the waiting list. when i checked the morning of the train itself i'd gone from being wait listed in the third spot to the enigmatic 'R.A.C. 88'. after intense questioning i learned that R.A.C. stands for reservation against cancellation and that i was 88th on this new, more confusing list. apparently there are seats that are reserved for doctors and other professionals and if they aren't taken then the overbooked passengers get them first-ticketed, first-served. the wait list is actually a rung lower than R.A.C. on the train ticket ladder. the R.A.C. tickets are only resolved a few hours before the train leaves...and i managed to get a seat. sort of. in the sleeper class train cars there are nine sections per car, all open to each other along a corridor, and eight berths per section. six of these berths are arranged in stacks of three perpendicular to the train car. the other two are stacked parallel to the side of the train on the opposite side of the corridor from the other six. the bottom side berth is the worst of the eight because it is made by folding two seat-backs together which never fit perfectly leaving an uncomfortable bump. every other berth is a solid bench. the R.A.C. tickets are always the two side berths...but what i didn't know is that they assign them to more than two people if the demand for the train is high enough. for the first few hours i was the only person at the side berths for my section. i decided to go to sleep in the upper, more comfortable berth, even though it wasn't mine. about an hour later the man who it did belong to boarded the train and kicked me out. i resigned myself to sleeping on the bumpy bottom berth. just after midnight a woman got on the train and came over to me and shook me awake. she accused me of being in her spot and told me to leave. i told her she was wrong and proceeded to ignore her, trying to fall back asleep. she found a train official who informed us that we were both R.A.C. tickets and would have to share the one berth. being newly awoken and tired, i took the news poorly and got really grumpy. i scrunched up into a sitting ball of annoyed fury and glared at the woman who had just usurped half my space. a quick glance down the corridor confirmed for me what i already knew in my heart: no one else in the car had to share their berth...just me. it didn't help that the woman now beside me was obviously going to be able to fall asleep in the small amount of space she had, whereas i would undoubtedly be awake for the remaining 12 hours of the train ride. when she got close to sleep her breathing became that of darth vader's, an evil wheeze. i sat in my corner, in a huff, and did my best to feel hard-done by and mistreated. it was then that i realized that i explicitly expected this not to happen to 'me'. i'd gotten used to the special treatment that tourists get, i'd let the multitude of times that i'd been served first or given space that no local was allowed to have become a blur...and i had started to expect such treatment without even realizing. i was a bit shocked to discover this sense of entitlement lurking just underneath the surface. i suddenly felt ashamed of my anger that i'd internally directly at this woman who bore no responsibility for the situation we were in. and just as i was thinking that maybe it was about time for my privileges to be revoked...the train conductor came over and showed me to the berth at the other end of the car that he'd arranged for me to sleep in. i suppose the three crying children who wailed away into the wee hours were the universe's way of making a point.
india has a reputation for being a difficult place to travel. i've met people who are about to travel here made nervous by the 'horror stories' they've heard (i've heard a few myself...), and i've talked to people who hated the time they spent traveling here. you have to be on your toes to avoid getting taken advantage of, it's true. and while serious threat is rare (i've heard stories of attempted muggings in taxis and middle-of-the-night pickpockets on trains, but i've never felt threatened personally), you do have to be very careful with your stuff. i've had my bag stolen from on both of my trips here...negligible losses both times thankfully. last time it was a flashlight stolen in gaya, this time it was some prayer flags that i bought in nepal stolen in chandigarh. both times the culprit was the luggage-wallah working for the bus company. the flashlight was understandable i guess...it was a novel design and expensive looking. but the prayer flags just pissed me off. i can understand someone's impulse to steal from me based on our respective economic and social standing, i can rationalize that...but the prayer flags cost next to nothing even in asia! it was stealing for the sake of stealing...and it was strangely frustrating because of it. and now i'm in bombay...and i'd forgotten that for all the city's wonders, here hustling has been elevated to an art form. every financial interaction is an ordeal, and you're constantly at a disadvantage. taxi drivers start bargaining at 500 rupees just to drive you across town, armed with bullshit meter schedules and made-up times and distances. budget hotels make you fight for your room, even though they're the most expensive in india. walking down the street there's a constant stream of demands and requests, invitations and offers. after having read 'shantaram' i can't quite stop thinking about the bombay underworld that may (or may not...) have its hands in everything behind the scenes, turning all the small jarring street interactions into massive hoards of wealth. you just have to flow with it, i guess. if you find yourself screaming at a taxi driver over a few rupees, perhaps you've taken a wrong turn. if you distrust every smile that you see, maybe you've gotten lost. it's a steep learning curve for sure and i'm glad to be finishing in bombay rather than starting...but all the same, that hustle's going to corner you at some point and you just have to learn to deal with it.
