We pass in the opposite direction to a school party. A teacher asks if we will pose for a photo with the class. After the photo pose breaks up R is mobbed by schoolgirls eager to exchange small talk. A bit further on we hailed by an Auntie who wishes to know if we are Christian. We gave up trying to claim to be godless a few trips back as nobody believed us. Auntie is not at all put out that we are the wrong sort of Christians and goes on to tell us that she has problems with her waterworks, is a spinster and the orphan of a railwayman and shortly expects to be drawing a sizeable pension. She asks us where we are staying then scolds us for wasting money on flashy city centre hotels. She has clearly never been in the Hotel Valiant. She stops a man passing by and introduces him as a Christian but he seems rather uncertain about this and walks away quickly. On the face of it she seems a bit bonkers but the conversation does remind D a bit of his late Auntie Margot (no relation).
D has managed to leave his spare camera battery in the hotel so we call in there on our way to the Railway Station where, at R's request, we are about to set out on another narrow gauge adventure. All goes well as D only has to name our destination once at the Unreserved Ticket Counter, and a recce for the Cloak Room (Left Luggage) , which we will need tomorrow, goes swimmingly. We look for our train which is a MEMU local with no reserved seating. The board says Platform 5 and there is a Mainline Electric Multiple Unit at the platform but nothing recognisable as a destination or train number anywhere. The train is quite full already but there are seats in a small First Class compartment. A girl on the platform assures us that this is the Surat train that we want. The descent to damnation starts with one tiny step, in this case off platform 5 at BRC and into the FC on train 69110.
D starts to rationalise the case for the defence. 1) There is hardly anything written anywhere in English 2) Indiarailinfo does not list this train as having FC 3) IndiaMike told us that we can upgrade on the train 4) How much to hush this up? By this time we have arrived at Miyagam Karjan Junction, where the 2'6" gauge line from Dabhoi briefly parallels the BB& CI main line before wandering off into the countryside. D' s plan is to catch a train to Dabhoi, returning thence to Baroda, but we have a stroke of luck as there is a train at the narrow gauge platform heading away from Dabhoi towards Choranda, a twenty five minute ride. D legs it to the booking office. The fare chart says Rs 10 each to Choranda but, although the window is open the counter is untended. A chap ses D's agitation and lets out a roar which brings a man carrying several bunches of keys from round the corner. D waves money and says "Tickets. Small train". The keyholder says "Narrow Gauge" rather contemptuously and waves a hand airily towards the train. "Tickets on train?' asks D. 'Yes, yes'. D scurries back to the platform to find R deep in conversation with a man sitting in one of the coaches. He seems worried that we might not like where the train is heading but when we tell him it is a there and back trip he relaxes and urges us to join him in his compartment. D cannot see any sign of a guard and not wishing to miss this opportunity we hop up.
Travelling in the wrong class is one thing but this is something else altogether. On the Mumbai Suburbans there are regular announcements proclaiming ticketless travel to be "A Social Evil". How will we sleep tonight? Our host asks us all of the usual questions and describes himself as an engineer. He says that his English is medium, not a bad description. He asks if we have a return ticket and D is forced to confess, producing raised eyebrows from Mr Medium. We reassure him that we will buy tickets at Choranda. The other occupants of the coach watch and listen intently. Hopefully none of them are Railway Police informers. This train travels rather faster than yesterday's and passes through countryside dominated by cotton growing, with a fair acreage devoted to an unidentified bushy plant. Our new friend says that it is for oil but cannot give us a name.
At Choranda we say farewell and D goes straight to the booking window and buys tickets through to Dabhoi, Rs 10 each. Given that IR never refunded the fares from a train they cancelled last year (around 1600 rupees) D does not offer to pay for the trip we have just completed. The loco runs around the train and we bag seats in the rear coach. D walks around taking photos and spots more comfortable looking seats in the front coach. R is relieved about this as somebody with a basket of dried fish had just climbed on where we were. The return trip departs promptly at 13.15 and is notable mainly for the large bundles of firewood that get lifted on at the intermediate halt. D also manages to lose the ticket while trying to take photos out of the door. This is some sort of karma as there is no way we will risk further ticketless travel and he has to buy another at MK Junction.
The train sits here for twenty minutes before departing. Our coach is pretty full and there is a chap sitting opposite who seems desperate to talk to us. He breaks the ice with "What country?" and away we go. He is originally from Jaipur but now lives in Dabhoi. The NG trains are OK but broad gauge would be better and faster. Other people in the coach are asking him questions, some of which require replies from us. We are definitely going faster than yesterday, and at one station we pass a train heading in the opposite direction. MK to Dabhoi has five trains per day in each direction, pretty ritzy. D gets in some door riding before we get to our destination.
We have a two hour wait here that allows D to visit the running shed and carriage sidings and repair shop. R is deposited on a bench in the shade right in front of the Railway Police Office where she can read her Kindle. Contrary to all the training received at Bo'ness D wanders off down the line without permission or any sort of hi-vis. Just like the several dozen people who are using the railway as a short cut to somewhere. The C&W staff turn out en masse to examine D. The Senior Section Engineer has a little English but there is a young chap, about six foot six tall, who has very good English and is very ready with all sorts of technical details such as how long the inspection pit is and when the workshop was built (2008). There is even an Emergency Train ready in a siding with Medical Coach, Engineer's Workshop Coach and Staff Accommodation. D looks suitably impressed. Having got his photos D thanks people and returns to the platform. The booking window has opened and tickets secured for the train home. D explores a little outside the station, finding chai and biscuits.
The platform fills up as departure time approaches and R's shady bench fills completely. We see the level crossing gates go down and finally the 17.25 DEMU to Vadodara arrives, 10 minutes late. R gets a seat and D wedges himself in a corner by the door. Two young men get on with a plastic bag full of chai and a few tiny disposable plastic cups. They provide excellent entertainment as they attempt to pour the chai but manage in the end before offering the cups round. D takes one gratefully, forgetting all of the warnings about not taking drinks or eatables from strangers on trains. A smartly dressed chap appears from along the train and engages D in conversation. He thinks that his English is better than it is but we get by. We discuss railways and he thinks that it is an outrage that Gujarat has to put up with old technology like NG trains. He would convert the lot tomorrow and explains his views to the gallery who seem to agree with him. D decides not to mention that he would be in favour of restoring steam.
This train is scheduled to take 44 minutes to cover the 6 km from Pratapnagar to Baroda so we decide to get off early and take an auto. This is what most people on the train do and there are dozens of autos waiting in the yard. We are starving, so after a quick sluice we walk round the corner to a restaurant we liked the look of. This turns out to be another Rs 250 per head Gujerati Thali, very tasty and with endless top ups. We have to call a halt. Our laundry is returned, clean and neatly folded with a bonus vest, which we return to reception. We are just turning in at 10.30 when all hell breaks loose outside. There is another disco truck with a small crowd dancing in the street including some small children. Then the fireworks start. They certainly like their noise around here.
No comments:
Post a Comment