Train ride of a lifetime (Eleanor)

The train ride from Hampi to Changanur was absolutely unforgettable – a true India experience. I would never have guessed the potential of the journey when it began at 1:30 in the morning. Nor was I particularly happy at the train station at 6:00 in the morning where Mom and I waited for our second train. In a short span of time I dozed, ate breakfast, and knocked over several things including a rather large sign. One station official looked quite bewildered that I could wreak so much havoc so quickly.

When the train arrived around 7:30, we boarded with some trepidation. For the first time we were on the waiting list instead of having good, solid, reliable seats. However, we’d been told that this was not a problem, that being 3^rd and 4^th on a waiting list for a train in India meant you had seat or would within an hour. But we were still nervous and did not know quite how to proceed. We lugged our suitcases into the AC 3 Tier car, walked down the aisle a short way, and stopped in confusion to ask some young men what to do. They scooted to make room, laboriously lifted our bags to the top bunk where no one was sitting, commented on the heaviness of said bags, and encouraged us to sit down. The conductor would come later and sort things out, they said.

So, while waiting for the conductor, we all got to talking. The six young men in our compartment were mechanical engineers, just graduated, on their way to a nuclear power plant to do some project with the rest of their class. There were 23 students in the all and as the day progressed, people wandered in and out. Mom and I were the local attraction. A few, however, stayed the entire day and made sure we were taken care of. The Royal Treatment. When we mentioned that we’d been awake basically all night, they set up beds for us. Food was passed around, stories were exchanged. They spoke in English for our benefit, although they said it was good practice for them as well.

They were extremely well educated and the topics of conversations ranged from the job market, to education in India vs. in the States, to monkeys, to religion, to the failings and benefits of the modern world, etc. One debate was particularly heated and interesting. One young man (whose name I can’t remember, there were 20 of them) argued that to follow a guru was not good because one is expected to obey one’s guru and there are false gurus. The other argued that while it was true that some gurus were less than holy, this should not poison the teachings of all gurus nor should one discredit the traditional and beautiful relationship between a guru and their student. It was fascinating to eavesdrop both because of the content of the debate and because of the animation of the debaters. They were obviously enjoying arguing with each other, coming up with new examples, never backing down but still respecting that their friend was also an educated person with a working mind.

Eventually, I was persuaded to bring out my violin and the real fun began. I’d not really practiced in months and I was playing a $50 violin on a moving train, but they were a fantastic audience. The Monti Czardas was a particular hit and I was asked to play it twice and write down the name so they could look it up online. They were absolutely delighted and surprised when I told them that Gypsy music originated in Rajasthan. As I played, more people showed up and our little compartment got crowded; even the teacher listened in. The only spare room was around my bow arm so I could continue to play. The violin was passed around, songs were sung, videos and pictures were taken. There was such a sense of camaraderie, of easygoing but true friendship, that surrounded this group of young adults and Mom and I were accepted into their circle with eager happiness. Even when the conductor found seats for Mom and I, I stayed put, happy to remain with my new-found friends.

Everyone stayed up very late talking and laughing. Mom and I turned in but I had difficulty sleeping, even though one of my friends made sure I had gotten the complimentary pillow, sheet, and blanket from the conductor and was nicely tucked in. At one point I gave up and sat up in bed. After a little while, someone came and sat next to me as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “Are they disturbing you?” he asked. I said something along the lines of it’s not that bad, I can’t sleep on trains anyway, let them have their fun. He laughed at me, seeing straight through my politeness. “They’re disturbing me, too,” he said, then jumped up and told them off, saying I was trying to sleep and “Auntie” (mom) was sleeping too and that they should be quiet. The whispering phase lasted about five minutes, but it was very sweet of him to try. The next morning a few of them explained sheepishly to me that they’d just had finals and were still stuck in the habit of staying up late to study.

The following morning, the painful farewells were made. The train pulled into Changenur around 7:30. It was an hour late and I was extremely grateful. College students are not generally awake at 6:30 in the morning, no matter what the circumstance. By 7:30, however, a group of 8 were awake enough to see us off. They were even awake enough to carry our bags for us, again. Handshakes all around, and then they were off, swept out of my sight just as quickly as they’d swept in to my life. And yet, emails were exchanged and promises of further communication made.

I learned a lot in 24 hours. I learned that monkeys know how to push the buttons of a cell-phone, that Orkut is better than Facebook, that female mechanical engineers are more likely to get jobs than male ones, that I listen to none of the same music as Indians my age, and that it is absolutely possible to make friends and create life-long memories in a single day.