CMS had provided a bus to take us to the station so no hassles along the way. But two observations made on the journey: a pair of schoolgirls on bicycles, almost identical in school uniform and long dark plaits, chatting and laughing as they negotiated a chaotic round about, death-dealing motorbikes and tuk tuks and cars jostling for space, while they had not a care in the world. And some legacies of colonial Lucknow, magnificent buildings, including what looked like a royal palace, with a long avenue of life-sized carved elephants. I had seen nothing of any of it.
Lucknow station was exactly as I had expected: majestic architecture cheek by jowl with crumbling infrastructure and squalor, When we finally made it to the platform, my dodgy knee making the climbs up and down the rusting iron stairs something of an ordeal, I was intrigued, as we waited for the train to arrive, by the antics of a very odd couple: a woman who was (what is the correct term) I suppose a dwarf, with a youngish guy who seemed like he lived on the street. They seemed to have a love/hate relationship, one moment cuddling, or chasing playfully in a game, the next arguing and fighting viciously, and finally her chasing him doen the platform, trying to swat him with a length of bamboo.
When the train arrived, a vital mistake was made, with most of the group heading in the wrong direction down a hugely long train, towards the air-con carriages, which we had been unable to book,(and which were, in any case, far too expensive. When she discovered the error, Aarna had hared down the train, along the platform, in the other direction, finding and securing the carriage we ought to be in, and then sent Roshan back along the train to fetch us.
At this point, I was actually quite comfortable, ensconced in the end section of lone of the carriages, where the guard, seeing my advancing years, had temporarily released one of the fold-up beds for me to sit on. I felt myself in luxury, with a comfortable seat, an ensuite bathroom, and air-con, courtesy of the open window. But it could not last; this was just a temporary resting -point, and thanking the guard, who took a photo of himself with me, Pawan and I set off on the long journey towards the place we ought to be. He apologised at regular intervals; they all seemed to have the idea that I would find travel by train impossibly difficult – and this part was pretty tough – while Val and I had endured just this, and much worse, so many times.
This was probably the worst part of the whole journey. The train was moving by this point, and we had to lug ourselves, plus our luggage, along the narrow sort of corridor – there were seats on one side, sleeping berths on the other – all the way up the train. At the end of each carriage, we had to force open the pair of sliding doors which kept threatening to slide back and imprison us. And then negotiate the sliding plates over the couplings between the carriages. I didn’t count the carriages, obviously, but there must have been thirty or so of them.
But at last we reached our destination, with Aparna there to welcome us. She had somehoe secured enough seats for all, though some ended up on the substantial luggage racks. For myself, it was perfect. I had a seat, and gradually, as the space around us eased, I was blessed with some wonderful companions: Aanshika, Jigyasa, and Apekshya. Lovely to talk and laugh with, and soon enough, games too – My grandma’s cat, and then cards – I taught them Knockout Whist and Hocus Pocus.
I felt myself to be on the most extraordinary trip back in time, forty years ago, when the trains had been not so very different from this one. Nd at every station, the sounds and smells took me back. “Chai, chai, chai” came the call, from both inside and out. “Samosas, samosas,” and I had two – hot and delicious. The one glaring change, of course, was the use of mobile phones, with people hot-spotting all over the place, even with total strangers. It was even possible to order food to be delivered to you (though heaven only knows how they might have found you.)
And as we went on, more space appeared, allowing Aparna enough space to lie down and get some well-earned sleep. And then, after about eight hours, we were there, gathering our stuff and disembarking in a bit of a rush. It had been a long journey, and I had loved it.
After some tough negotiations at the station, Aparna negotiated for three tuk tuks to take us to a restaurant. Her careful plans were nearly derailed when one of them (ours), obviously not hearing the destination, managed to take us miles in the wrong direction. But once again, mobiles came into their own, finding and relocating our errant driver. Lunch was excellent, and then we were back in the tuk tuks for the short journey to the border.
We had to walk over a huge dam’ squeezed against the side to allow tuk tuks, motor bikes and cars to pass, to reach the succession of border and immigration posts. The first guy was most puzzled to see me, but dealt with me efficiently enough, but then there were at least a couple more. I did get confused at one point, thinking I had already left India, when the nice lady soldier asked me where I had been in India, and what I thought of it. I told her I had hated Lucknow, because of the noise and congestion… and then she told me I was still in India! Fortunately, she saw the funny side.
Funniest of all was when I left Indian customs; I was walking, as directed, up the road, when a soldier with a big gun shouted at me. Who was I, and had I been through customs? I assured him that I had, and he waved me on. Then Apekshya came running down the road to meet me, we started walking together on to Nepal, and the soldier was blowing on his whistle, beckoning us to come back. Apekshya went to speak to him, and to reassure him, apparently, that I was not trafficking her!
At this point, I was told that Aanshika’s mum and dad were coming to pick her up, and would also take me, Apekshya and Jigsaya back to Dhangardhi. It seemed an attractive offer, but actually did not work out so well. Jigyasa was feeling ill, I was exhausted, and we had to wait a long time, standing by a roadside stall on the point of closing up; it was dark by now. I was found a seat – everyone was looking after me very well – and after a long wait (they had had trouble finding us) at last they were there, in a comfortable large Range Rover-type car.
I still had to be stamped officially into Nepal, and luckily a sleepy official was able to do so. My accommodation in Dhangardhi had long since been locked up, so I was met by Aparna, and taken by tuk-tuk, barely able to speak with exhaustion. A shower, some food, and bed.
I understand the deja vu aspect of returning to a place you’ve been decades ago–I had the same experience on a Greek island where I’d found a very private beach and had stayed there (alone) for almost two weeks. Over 39 years later I returned, and the only things that had changed were the trees, which had grown taller. I felt like I was both 31 and 70 at the same time. What a strange feeling. I could see younger myself and almost felt as if I were two people.