20th February - A Line Less Travelled

Gujarat is not only the land of Prohibition,  Asiatic Lions and sweet food. It has a surprising number of surviving 2' 6" gauge railways. D has earmarked one of these for his annual day out and is rather taken aback when R decides that she is not too well to attend. This may have something to do with a rather genteel set of timings that do not require us to leave the hotel until 9 a.m. First we have to find bottled water, then an auto for the 4 km ride to Pratapnagar railway station. D's Gujarati is coming on in leaps and bounds. He only has to say the place name twice before the auto driver responds with the correct pronunciation.  His quote is Rs 70 which seems good to us and we hop in. 

The traffic is quite light and we get our first sight of the Pratapnagar - Jambusar Junction line as we cross a flyover. The driver drops us outside the station and we buy our tickets at the Unreserved Counter before checking the platform. The train is not in so we spend a few minutes looking at the small park opposite the station that contains a dilapidated NG coach and some display boards telling the story of railways in Baroda. In a nutshell the Gwaekor of Baroda, who was Maharaja of of large piece of territory around here, thought that narrow gauge railways would help his people. Eventually the Gwaekor of Baroda's State Railway became the largest narrow gauge system in the world. Much of the system has been converted to Broad Gauge in recent years but several lines remain. This one is an outlier but very convenient for Baroda. 

The train from Jambusar arrives and we make sure that we bag forward facing seats by slipping our hats through the barred windows. It isn't really a panic as there are not that many people waiting to get on the train. There are three coaches and we have picked the middle one. D takes pictures of the ZDM 5 diesel loco running round the train ready for departure to Jambusar Junction at 10.00. One of the railway employees is keen to practice his English. He is the train examiner and it is his job to check that the brakes and running gear are in good working order. With only two arrivals and two departures daily at Pratapnagar NG one does wonder how the rest of his working day is filled. There is quite a substantial refreshment stall on the platform which supplies very acceptable chai for Rs 5 per cup. At that price D leaves the biscuits argument for another day. By departure time our coach is about two thirds full, mainly with single ladies, but there is one young family. The locals seem good humoured and smile a lot, but none of them attempt any English. We do get stared at an awful lot.

The train departs promptly and runs parallel to the Dabhoi - Vadodara line for a mile or so. This used to be narrow gauge but was converted to BG a few years ago. It's not long until we come to the first stop-start-stop-start level crossing. The train has to stop before the crossing and the assistant guard trots forward to put chains across the roadway, the train moves across the road, stops to pick up the AG after he has removed the chains, and then gets under way again. Major roads have level crossing keepers with proper barriers, lesser roads have the DIY method above and small tracks have to make do with long blasts on the loco horn. The stations are generally small and rather run down. At each stop a few people get on and off but the numbers on the train stay roughly constant. At one stop a chap comes out with a tray of chai for the crew but there are no vendors, either on the train or at the station.  This may account for the remarkably clean and litter free floor in our coach.

By now we are very much in rural Gujurat. There are a wide variety of crops being grown including some don't recognise. We see our first camel of this trip, resting by the roadside. The railway runs straight as an arrow for mile after mile with very little change in gradient.  The track is formed of jointed rail set on large metal chairs that are kept in the right place by spacing bars. The ride in our coach is surprisingly good, although one of the other coaches looks to be rolling and lurching quite badly. Between Pratapnagar and Jambusar there is no point work or signalling so the line is effectively a long siding worked on the one engine in steam principle. Apart from Pratapnagar stations are unstaffed and somewhere between decrepit and ruined. The penultimate station is Jambusar Road, which seems to be a decent sized community.  The coach is now empty apart from us and four ladies with a large collection of plastic sacks. 

On the approach to our destination the line takes a wide ninety degree curve to the left, joining the now disused line from Khich. The trip has taken exactly three hours for 56 km and we are on time. We pull into a long platform,  which has a long, low station building with all of the usual notices - Booking Hall, First Class Waiting Room, Station Master etc. All are padlocked and have broken windows except the FC Waiting Room which appears to be now used as a staff facility. It is probably a few years since Jambusar Junction issued a First Class ticket. The lack of facilities is a bit of a blow as the provisioning manager has neglected to pack any biscuits for lunch.  We had hoped that there might be a chance to buy some but will have to rely on water and boiled sweets.

 The loco runs around the train, the crew disappear, the sack ladies walk off along the track back in the direction that we have come and we are left alone with an hour and ten minutes to kill. It is hot but not as bad as the last few days have been and fortunately the fans in the coach are still running. D gets his photos and manages to trip over the only cow pat on the platform. A few people pass by, using the platform as a thoroughfare, while perpendicular wayfarers cut through the coach on their travels.  Eventually the local yoof start to congregate under the fans in our coach, playing dreadful music on their phones. R starts looking for some Wagner. The return trip is due to leave at 14.10 and the crew reappear at 14.05. D walks down to the Guard's compartment to buy our tickets for the return trip. These are proper card tickets, kept in a cabinet and hand stamped with today's date. Inspection shows them to be Child tickets with the word child crossed out in biro and the fare altered from Rs 5 to 15 by hand. The arrival of authority has persuaded the yoof to disperse. There do seem to be a few passengers in one of the other coaches but only D is foolish enough to pay for travel. 

We leave on the dot at ten past. A Jambusar Road there is quite a throng waiting.  Two women with a small girl sit opposite us and R ensures the future prospects of the Indian Dental trade by handing out sweeties. On the way home we indulge in some bird spotting, bagging both red naped and black headed ibises, as well as lots of bee-eaters. The lady sitting behind R is very keen to show off her jewellery,  particularly a large silver ring with a huge stone set in it. We smile and make appreciative noises. The train is not far off time until just outside Pratapnagar, where we stand for several minutes for no obvious reason. Getting an auto home is pretty straightforward although the contortions necessary to get onto the flyover that crosses the railway mean that the fare is ten rupees higher.

A veil will be drawn over tonight's evening meal. It is sufficient to say that our first choice turned out to be another dud and we finish up in some sort of Pirate themed Harvester, paying through the nose for indifferent food. Perhaps it is a Harvester. It confirmed our opinions about Zomato as the place is their number one recco in Vadodara. On the way home we see a fruit stand selling something else that we don't recognise. The young man in charge cuts us a small piece each to try. They are custard apples and really rather good.