WanderingWhy…

Coming from Japan, we were conditioned to be at the train station early.  Japanese trains leave on the second they are scheduled to.  Here in India however, things could not be more different.  The station in New Delhi is filthy, crowded, and disorganized which makes for hard travel and good stories.

We got up at 5:30am.  Since the trip was only three hours we skipped breakfast to make our 7:09 am train to Agra.  7:09 am came and went yet our train did not.  After wandering through the masses we found the inquiry office and learned the train would not arrive until 11 am.  Okay, after this long on the road we have no problem with delays.  We returned to the platform to settle in and wait.

We camped out underneath one of the tin loudspeakers that constantly crackled with the old Windows 95 “TA-DA” followed by a jumbled message about a train and closing statement “the inconvenience caused is deeply regretted” in a thick Indian accent in a never ending loop.  I don’t think a single train was on time.  I found it fun at first, but several delays later our “Taj Express” train rolled in six hours late and the intrigue had long worn off.

The six hours on the platform was anything but boring.  We had a wonderful brunch of soda and potato chips.  We busied ourselves fending off the little beggar children.  We watched one grown man after another take a leak on the tracks, and rats pop out of holes in the concrete platform.  If that somehow got dull we tried to breathe.  Since it is the dry season there is a permanent dust cloud over Delhi (or most of India it seems) and every train that pulled in created a tornado of dust that I fended off with my new 40 cent scarf (the best purchase of the trip so far).

We finally boarded the train and sat with an older Indian woman.  A very sweet lady as it turned out.  She spoke a tiny bit of English and chatted with us.  We are far from the only westerners to have traveled in India yet we seem to be interesting to everyone since they constantly stare and sometimes want to take photos with me.  “India, Dur-T” she explained as we rolled out of the dusty station and the little beggar kids marched up and down the isles.

I’ve seen plenty of poverty in other places we have traveled but it’s really intense here.  While we were inching along the tracks, a kiddie brawl broke out that was quickly subdued by some of the passengers.  I imagine how hardened these kids will be by the time they are teenagers.

As our three hour journey approached ten hours, I was wondering if it would have been possible to walk instead.  Darkness fell and our car was the only one with no lights.  Not a problem.  Our new friend handed her nail file to some other passengers and they quickly broke into the fuse box and illuminated our car.  I love Indian ingenuity.

We finally crawled into the station in Agra 12 hours after our scheduled departure.  We were greeted with the usual crush of touts trying to usher us into a rickshaw and off to the hotel of their choice.  Scammers abound in this town and I had picked the early train to avoid arriving at night.  We brushed the touts off and finally found the pre-paid taxi stand out front.

I walked up to the booth and told one of the two guys behind the counter the name and location of my hotel.  I paid the fare and one guy whispered to me “perhaps I would be interested in another hotel?”  I made it very clear to him I was not.  He disappeared and I waited for my ticket.  The second guy who was filling out the tickets asked if I had received mine.  I was about to say no when hotel boy appeared next to me to hand me my ticket.  Ticket guy told me to go with him and he was my driver.  My bullshit detector started ringing but I figured I was being overly cautious since I was exhausted and had not eaten in 24 hours.  The taxi booth is overseen by the police.

We loaded our bags in the van and my “driver” got in the passenger seat next to the driver.  I was back on high alert.  “My name is Ram!” he bellowed.  After 12 hellacious hours everything he said ran down my spine.

We pulled out of the parking lot and were stopped by police.  They asked for the taxi ticket.  Ram explained this was a government cab and the police check to see the tourists are charged the correct fare.  He asked where we were coming from and we told him.  He then explained how late our train was and where it was going next.  Common sense, none of which he had, would have indicated we were exhausted and just wanted to get to our hotel. How did this guy ever get behind the taxi counter?!!?

He was a real abrasive and pushy fucker.  He kept on about our hotel, how it was noisy, his hotel was five star and only 1,000 rupees.  When we shot that down he suggested a tour and that was the end of WD’s patience. “NO! NO TOUR!” she snapped.

He actually shut up and reared back for a brief second “No tour?”

“NO!” WD confirmed.  He muttered something to the driver and a turn was made as he continued to chat us up.  My adrenalin was in overdrive wondering where he was taking us.  He started to explain again very loudly and forcefully that this was a government cab and was very safe.  He had a bit of lazy eye which made him look crazed and was staring at me aggressively as he spoke.  I was bracing myself to kick his head through the windshield.  I played along and asked if he had a business card.  This seemed to catch him off guard and he stumbled and hesitated before reaching in his wallet and handing me his card.  Sonething was wrong.

A few minutes later the taxi stopped at a busy traffic circle and he pointed down the street explaining our hotel was in a no motor zone and we could take a cyclo from here or walk straight down the street.  I knew the taxi would drop us a short distance from the hotel but didn’t trust getting in his buddy’s cyclo to take us there.  Glad to be rid of Ram we started walking, the cab pulled away, and cars whizzed by…  In a no motoring zone?

The P.O.S. had dropped us in some dodgy unknown part of the city in the middle of the night no where near our hotel.  We started hoofing it through the chaos and finally came across some other backpackers nice enough to show us where we were-2KM from our hotel.  Nice eh?  We finally found the hotel and it seemed one of the most peaceful serene place we have been in our travels.

But, Ram was kind enough to share his information with me so I’ll share it with you dear reader.  Give him a call, send him an email, pay him a visit or schedule a tour with him.

Ram Kishan

Ram.Kishan1969@yahoo.com.in or Ramkishan001@yahoo.com.in

+919411412243

Resi: vill:- Bamrauli Katara

Agra 282003.U.P India

Be creative and don’t take no for an answer-Ram would like that.

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