EARLY MORNING TRAIN JOURNEY

Gwalior, only three and a half hours from New Delhi on the Bhopal New Delhi Shatabdi Express train, 12002. That is unless it has been cancelled. Having secured a seat last week in this chair class aircon train, trouble arose in the Capital.

For the past week the trouble has been escalating. It is concentrated in the State of Haryana, where Delhi is located, but outside of the city itself. The situation has been brewing for some time based in a University that has spread to many Universities through student unions. The papers are filled with stories though none of them clarify for me the base situation. The closest I can come is there is a question of quotas for backward castes that needs to be addressed. There have also been recent suicides over allegations of students cheating in exams, preferential treatment for those that can afford and nepotism. This seems to have reached the lofty heights of terrorism though it has been a media based hype.

There are so many twentyfour hour news channels now in India all competing for the 'scoop'. In this instance unverified footage was broadcast, which may have been doctored, raising tensions even higher about student shouting slogans at rallies. The central figure, the leader of the Uni's student union, came out of hiding Sunday and addressed the gathered crowd. In reading, it is an interesting article which talks about the role media have played in the escalation. The student union leader said he learned much about himself recently through the media and didn't realise that he had ' visited Pakistan twice recently, not having a passport'. He was called the 'Mastermind' rallying seventeen Universities behind him and accused of making eight hundred phone calls, unsubstatiated, including to The Gulf and Kashmir ( which has recently had several terrorist based military deaths during clashes ). The student relates that he has been reduced to his immediate identity, that of Muslim saying that ' for the past seven years , when I've engaged in politics on campus, I haven't thought of myself as a Muslim , I have never projected myself as a Muslim ... For the first time in seven years I have become conscious of being a Muslim, in the past ten days. They are calling me a Pakastani agent anyway.' He came out of hiding when he became fearful for his family who have been receiving death threats with his sister threatened with rape. 

It is easy to rile up the population in India. A secular democracy still very divided between Hindus, Moslems and others. Find a niche to exploit and the media, politicians and the courts seems to get on board for full political advantage. This lead to protests in the universities with students and teachers and then in the community further afield. Roads were blocked for days and hundreds of trains cancelled leaving many people stranded. Like all good capitalists, advantage has been taken, with reports of airlines gouging the price of flights, some up to five times or more the normal fare. Hotels have been doing the same. 

Other political groups are riding the unrest, pushing their agenda, and have became quite militant. There have been nineteen deaths so far. The roads blocked, reports say, thousands of trucks line the roads along with other vehicles caught in the traffic. Protestors tried to dislodge rail tracks, interfere with signals and block rail lines into and out of Delhi. The main source of Delhi's water was hijacked and parts of the Capital ran out of tap water with carriers bringing water to people. This also affected the area I was staying in but fortunately the hotel tanks were full. Not so for some of the residents who lined up in the streets on Sunday and yesterday morning with buckets or anything else that could hold water. The military were airlifted into the militant protest areas once this started. The protestors moved from one section and disrupted another. A call for rest was agreed overnight with protestors giving the Government one month to rectify the claims laid at them.

On checking my PNR status on the official Indian Railways website for today's journey, my train was cancelled. Another search of cancelled trains, bringing me to the same website, stated it was not. With nothing to lose I decided to go to the station arriving at 5.40am, twenty minutes before departure. The train was waiting at Platform number 1. I am seated in C2 carriage, seat ten, window seat, with three other passengers only. There are more attendants and inspectors for the carriage than passengers. Whilst it provides a comfortable journey, where I can spread over three seats, it does lead to forced attention. First I received all the possible English newspapers to read with a bottle of drinking water. My preference is the Times of India. Instead of bringing me a thermos and tea bag, the attendant made chai without sugar. Then lime water was distributed before breakfast. There is a choice of veg or non veg but equally more choice within these categories. I opt for the veg cutlets, potato based patties with some carrots in the mix, accompanied by shelled peas, fresh, plus four french fries, tomato sauce, two slices of brown bread and butter.  The carriage is over catered. I am offered second and thirds. 'No thanks', was not being accepted. I do accept another chai though. 

There are only a few stops on this journey. The longest is Agra. We pull in at 8.20am. It is a five minute stop. This is the train caught by those visiting Agra in one day. The return train is late in the evening giving a whole day in the city.

There are now only two of us in the carriage for remainder of the journey. The train arrives at Gwalior Junction only fifteen minutes late.

PRISONER ON TRAIN

Boarding the train at eleven pm means finding your compartment is a little more difficult. The 12313 Sealdah Rajdhani originated in Calcutta. I have a berth in carriage A1, a two tier aircon sleeper, and the porter has positioned me on the platform where the carriage will stop. Gaya is a busy railway station with trains pulling in every fifteen minutes. The station is alive with passengers waiting to alight trains with food sellers and chaiwalas plying their selection to those waiting and as trains stop. I wait, seated with luggage under a stairway, on the steel girder. Knees around chest, it is so low to the ground, hundreds of interested mosquitos buzzing around looking for a purchase. I position myself with the current novel I am reading perched open on the bags.

Platform One receives all the trains running towards Delhi. There are three Rajdhani trains in a row, starting in various locations, passing through Gaya. From here to Delhi these superfast trains only make four stops. Two trains have come and gone, thinning the people waiting for the 12313. The porters know their stuff, I have come to trust that, though the last two trains, carriage A1, passed by and there was a scramble by those waiting. My train pulls into the station slowly coming to a halt and directly in front of the carriage. Only one door of A1 is open and furthest away from my berth, seat seven. This doesn't please the porter either as he struggles with my bag. Every one has retired. The curtains are drawn the night lights on. The aisle becomes even more compressed like this. I noted, as the train pulled up, that I was at the emergency window which makes it easier to locate. 

It is impossible not to disturb those behind the drawn curtains as light floods in. Three bodies stir as I try and stuff my bag under the seat. There is little room left, like on an airline if you are last on, overhead is full. It took a little effort but managed. I paid the porter, who wanted to argue the price, but I dismissed him. A fair price was paid and he knew. 'Hello' a voice says from the top bunk. I respond to the face poking out of the white sheet. Some natter between them saying they couldn't sleep and two get up for a toilet stop, allowing me to arrange myself. Making the bed is first priority. Tucking the bottom sheet in ensures that it is still there in the morning and not a snake up against the wall. It is warm inside and the blanket would be overkill. Shoes off, valuables form the under layer of the pillow for the night, belt off, shirt hanging and ready for bed. I wish I could drift off to sleep immediately but expect the ticket inspector. A head pokes in and it is the carriage attendant wanting to know what I wanted for breakfast, veg or non veg. That means bread and veg cutlet or bread and omelette, with tea. I start to read using the night light hoping the light spill is not too disturbing. It seems my compartment companions have drifted off to sleep and after twenty minutes so do I. No sign of the inspector.

The train speeds up as I start to doze off trying to find the best position, when the train lurches, and I slip forward on the seat, decision made. Face forward. The movement and noise of the train is a lullaby, a steady rhythm, somnus.

Talking and foot traffic suggests morning. My compartment companions awake nattering away. I locate my face washer to liven my face, before greeting them. Three women, I learn they are second and third generation Chinese having migrated to Chennai. Sisters plus mother and daughter. There is a language mix in speaking between three languages, English, Hindi and I assume Bengali. Across in the aisle seats are a mother and son from Delhi. All try hard to persuade the attendant to bring chai but he has a time line. It finally arrives with breakfast as a thermos of hot water, a tea bag and a sachet of whitener. The rest of the breakfast is equally sad. The most exciting thing is tomato sauce on white bread. Luckily we are all carrying food. This leads us onto a discussion of tea especially Darjeerling, green and white and opens up conversation.  Mother and daughter now live in Toronto and are visiting the family in Calcutta. This journey is at the request of the daughter who is at uni. She wants to see the Taj Mahal, so a cross country train ride for a three day visit in Agra before a return by train. 

Many topics are covered in the hours before disembarking in Delhi. The most interesting is about a prisoner transport. At the locked end of the carriage are four uniformed and countless plain clothes officers with one cuffed and chained prisoner. The Canadians were quite concerned explaining this is why they found it hard to sleep last night. When the prisoner was delivered to the train he stared all the passengers down passing through the compartment. There was much to and fro with the officers until curiosity was roused and the daughter and aunt went down to have a closer look at the set up. They returned about half an hour later having been invited to sit and chat with the prisoner by the chief detective. They heard his story.

He was being extradited to Delhi from Bihar where he had been apprehended after escaping from his previous incarceration some time prior. His name was Manoj and apparently he is quite famous. A jewel thief, he posed as domestic help for two years in a family, learning all of the secrets before robbing them. He reportedly managed to get away with fifty three lakh rupees 

( Rs 5300000 ) worth of jewellery. He had a young accomplice who had only been employed as domestic help for ten days and still on the run. 

Manoj explained that he had two wives and seven children, marrying his second young, beautiful wife, recently. Whilst Moslems can marry up to three times it is not law here for Hindus. He was caught because his wife wore some of the jewellery to a wedding and pictures were taken. In the world of increasingly shrinking digital 'degrees of separation' the photographs were seen by someone who recognised the jewellery and that path lead to the thief. He surrendered and confessed but the Police cannot locate the jewels or the funds except for Rs8 lakh. He boasts of having a fortune from previous robberies. A clever man, no doubt, has divided the wealth amongst the family, with little to seize in his name. 

I am told that the Police gave him the keys to the cuffs. They want him to run so they can shoot him. He sits, holding the keys, in the compartment, patient in the knowledge that he will likely get off through the cumbersome legal system and the wealth he has behind him. An unassuming looking man, he knows time is on his side. He will play the game and as he is not a violent offender, with no one physically injured through his escapades. He is confident. 

The remainder of the journey is about the North Eastern States and how beautiful they are. I am encouraged visit. The train arrives half an hour late, close to eleven am, at New Delhi Railway Station. This is perfect timing for me to check into my hotel in Paharganj.