Our FirstTrain Departure from Delhi

I was remembering Delhi Station and thinking how the two trips we have done to India both had such exciting departures from the Railway Station.

The first trip we flew in to Indira Ghandi Airport along with the others of our tour, jumped into a bus and went for dinner at a very old Colonial-style restuarant. The dinner was served at a leisurely pace. At this stage we had two guides, one who was to take us on the train to Patankot, the other who was our "urban" tour guide. KD the second guide from Dharamsala was starting to look very restive, and I wondered why. It became apparent as soon as we were back in the bus. The traffic was horrendous - it was a major Hindu Holy day and everyone was on the road. We crept forward by centimetres and it was plain we would not make the nine pm departure of our train. After loud discussions between KD and the other guide, we lept out of the bus, carrying our luggage and weaving desparately through the never-ending lanes of traffic. Cars, buses, taxis, motorbikes, scooters, auto-rickshaws, bicycles, man-powered rick-shaws; all bore down inexorably across heaven knew how many lanes. We weaved and ducked and dived, wilting in the heat and under the weight of our international luggage. We were told not to allow the porters to take our luggage under any circumstances, so were fighting off a flock of red-coated porters all clamouring like magpies and screaming at us to give them the bags. The mad convoy rushed towards the station disregarding the everincreasingly frantic blandishments of the porters. On we flew and found to our dismay that we were at the wrong side of the station and we had to rush up and down bridge after successive bridge with only ten minutes to departure time. The Jammu Mail said KD always leaves on time. This voice of doom did nothing to assuage the rising hysteria. I had Nicki next to me - she was 72 at the time and in fairly frail health, which meant the madcap pace was far above her capabilities. Also, in spite of more than half her luggage going on to Bahrain by accident, she still had five suitcases and several bags with her. In fact she did our home country proud - blending in amongst the many bags every Indian national seemed constrained to carry. I landed up carrying three of her suitcases, whilr KD had my case and one of Nicki's. Ever on we rushed up and down bridges, yelling at the now very irate porters who could see a source of income giving them the slip. We had no idea why they were not allowed to carry our bags, but in a foreign country do what you are told was our motto. Of course coming from a country where if a screaming gaggle of porters descended upon you, you would assume that they were going to steal every item in your posession if you were fortunate, and assault you if you were not - we were very loath to trust people we had been told to avoid.

It was by now pitch dark and the lights in the vast station were not the brightest - there was a heavy haze, there were people everywhere - mostly men. Many seemed to have been sitting on the platforms since the railway was built. Suddenly our convoy ahead swept round the staircase they had just decended and vanished. For seconds we saw KD carrying Nicki's large, red suitcase on his head, then he too was gone. Vanished into the thousands of travellers milling on the platforms, inter mingled with the hordes of plaintively demanding beggars. Nicki and I had no idea which way our calvalcade had gone, we rushed vainly on, pursued still by porters yelling at us in broken unintelligible English. We called to several of the men on the platforms asking where the Jammu train was standing. We got disinterested, surly glares, but no response. We must have echoed all the worst from Colonial days bygone. Finally a man pointed two bridges away, indicating that was the platform we needed to aim for, but adding laconically "The train leaves at 9pm - you'll never make it". There was only one minute to go, thinking of home, Nicki and I thought "they can't leave on time in India - trains in South Africa are always late and look how chaotic this appears". We rushed onwards, both bright pink of face and short of breath. Down the last flight of stairs and there at last was our train, pulling slowly out of the station. Frantically we waved and yelled. Then we saw our group, everyone except John on the train all yelling at him as the train started to get up speed. then suddenly the train shuddered to a halt. Dozens of policemen emerged from all corners at the run, rifles at the ready. We were still too far away to make any sense of the commotion. Everyone was shouting at the top of their voices. Our urbane urban guide melted away soundlessly, leaving KD and John to face the police. KD looked quite pale in spite of his skin colour and was clearly unhappy as the policemen yelled at him demanding some explanion from him. John was as usual, quite calm, but unusual for him was clearly very angry. As Nicki and I staggered into view, still pursued by porters, everyone started pointing, gesticulating towards us. The two dozen or more policemen gave us a look of utter disbelief, but immediately dropped their threatening stance. Nicki and I swept past them - confrontations with the police/army being a familiar circumstance of our pre-democracy lives, we did not feel the need to be overawed by them. It turned out that KD, confronted by a very angry John, who was not prepared to leave myself and Nicki in a strange country unable to speak the language, and having no real idea of where we were and where we were meant to be going. He convinced KD that he must stop the train - although KD was of the consequences which he informed John would be dire unless they could persuade the authorities they had a valid cause for pulling the emergency cord. As the police saw us, their scowls lifted - here indeed was the frail old lady accompanied by another red-faced madwoman. They understood immediately how dire the situation had been and how Nicki above all could not possibly have been parted from the group, and left to fend for herself. They melted into a degree of friendliness and courtesy we would never have got from our armed forces, and wishing us well, dispersed, laughing at the idiocy of foreigners. I was, however, livid. I went on board and started to tell the rest of the group how selfish and craven they had been to be content to leave to women alone at night amongst all these men squatting hunched down on the platforms. It will be a long time before I forget the group's faces! I was mad as a wet cat and spitting fury worthy of any wild feline. attempts to pacify only fuelled the blaze. Suddenly the quietest woman on the trip had become a banshee. And I steadfastly refused to regain my sense of humour. Howver, when I found we had all lost our booked seats as people had merely commandeered them, I took pity on KD and helped devise an ammicable solution to the sleeping arrangements. What a day! and what an introduction to what I was later to learn is one of the most beautiful and safest cities in the world. Had we been left on a station at home under the same circumstances, we could have guaranteed we would be badly beaten up, if not dead by light of day.