2-06-09

We arose this morning at the horrible hour of 4:30 am. By some undeserved misfortune, our train was scheduled to leave Gaya at 6:00 am. Actually, my body naturally assumed that if I was awake at 4:30 in the morning, it must be because I was having an adventure, so I was wide awake. The taxi drive lulled my senses a bit, but I was then jolted back from the world of dreams when we arrived at the already bustling train station.
When our train pulled into the station we were, of course, beside the wrong car. We hurried down the platform, worried the train would leave without us, but we made it. However, when we got to our seats, they were already occupied and everyone in the compartment was asleep. One of them woke up and we voiced our fear that we were in the wrong car. But no, the seats were merely double booked. The man began waking up everyone around him so they would put their beds up and we could sit down. For about an hour, there were nine people in six seats but three departed at a different station and the six of us who remained fell back asleep.
The train ride was really long-6 am to 10:30 pm. Mom and I read, ate bread and fruit, played cards, and I listened to my iPod, which seems like a blessing from heaven on these long trips. Perhaps that is a bit of an exaggeration, but it does break up the monotony very nicely. I can happily sit for hours listening to music and daydreaming, although the hard seats on Indian trains make this habit hard to sustain.
I am now reading a book called “Rani”, about Rani Lakshmibai of Jhansi. She led her own soldiers into battle against the British in the 1857 Sepoy uprising. And nobody really knows what happened to her; some say she died on horseback, desperately fighting for her country’s freedom; some say she escaped with her young son; some say the woman who escaped was a look-alike. We will see which ending the book goes with. At this point, however, I am reading about her childhood, spent squabbling with her friends and riding horses, and her marriage to the Raja of Jhansi, a forty year old man, when she was just thirteen. I am really enjoying it. She is, as I’m sure you can imagine, quite feisty.
Besides Mom and I, there were four Muslim men from Bangladesh in our compartment. They are quite nice, with decent English, but there’s not that much to really say about them. Everybody shared their food and they borrowed our cards for a while, but that’s pretty much it.
We got off the train in Agra and headed for Hotel Sheela fairly late. An obnoxious taxi driver, when he failed to gain our custom, insisted on riding in our rickshaw with us, babbling the whole time. I found him a bit creepy and extremely shallow, as well as obnoxious. I was very happy to arrive at the hotel and, especially, the hotel restaurant.