I feel delirious, out of my mind. It is by far and away the hardest physical and mental battle I’ve ever fought. Non A/C sleeper or steerage class on an 18 hour train across India. If I ever see my ticket seller again I will give him such a thrashing, the bastard. Yet again buying a ticket in this place is impossible and the man managed to fuck me around and instead of helping me just fucked me over.

I’m 12 hours into this terrible terrible mistake. It’s the heat. It bends everything. I’ve been slow cooking for 12 hours constant sweat dripping off my forehead stinging my eyes and skin. I drink as much water as possible but im full of holes and it simply runs out of me.

The carriage is full, bodies lie everywhere in the dark the only light reluctantly seeps through the windows, even it doesn’t want to come in here. I can’t smell anything anymore, but the air is heavy and thick, musty.

I’m finally laying down on a pleather bed, no cover. my throat is sore and parched from the fumes and crap that wafts through the window when were moving. That’s the other battle, why the fuck won’t the train just go! Why must we stop for endless amounts of time. When the train stops the heat increases and the hot box begins. Yours sit and sweat whilst screaming in your mind for the train to just go! Every time we stop anywhere between 2-5 other trains full of people go screaming past at phenomenal speeds. Yet we wait. And we wait in these little stations in the middle of but fuck nowhere.

It’s fucking midnight and the heat, the heat is just relentless.

I am of course wearing pants as I have to stay covered to avoid the Mosquitos. Packed in with so many other poor souls it’s heaven for disease and mosquitoes are the harbingers of death.

I feel disgusting, a dirtiness I couldn’t obtain any other way.

My mind bends as the lack of sleep and heat and frustration at the lack of movement (just fucking go already) drags on. Honestly I should have bailed when I realised the mistake but I thought to myself come on you can do it what an adventure. Argh, never again. If you ever come to India never ever ever move below AC2 sleeper class, I promise you that it is an absolute Paradise compared to this.

Even Pigly is lying here sweating in misery and he is a stuffed doll! He looks back at me in resentment, as if saying “you bastard”!

Upon reflection:

I knew I was in trouble when I stepped into the carriage. Three tier bunks and people everywhere squashed in looking at me in wonderment, it became glaringly obvious I shouldn’t be here. I stored my things on my berth, a top bunk, an officer of the Indian army kicked a guy aside to make a seat for me and started talking to me in Indian, I spoke to him through a businessman sitting with us who told me I shouldn’t be here thus confirming my fears. He claimed that I wouldn’t survive the ride like an Indian could. I liked the challenge plus I had nowhere else I could go.

Soon another Indian with a berth against the windows invited me over to sit where I would get wind. He was a loverly chap who couldn’t be more helpful despite me hardly understanding anything he was trying to say. The businessman had gone and opposite us were 5 women a family in colourful saris travelling to Calcutta and no English there either, just a lot of hand miming. They took the maternal role over me quite quickly and I was somewhat glad as they helped me secure the berth rather than my intended Which resolved a lot of my concerns as it was a bottom bunk which gave me somewhere to safely store my things where I could keep an eye on them and access to windows which when the train was moving proved to be the only cooling effect available.

A quick interlude as officers with assault rifles walk through the carriage checking everyone.

I later shared my berth with another Indian soldier who was kind enough to offer me to join him in eating his meagre morsels. It was a small tin of spiced chickpeas, and the moment he offered I knew I was doomed. I fished out my parcel of roti (have taken to making sure I travel with a tin foil wrap of roti bread as a food backup) and we shared our food together. He was a loverly chap and kept demanding that I continue to share his chickpeas. We were eating with our hands straight out of his tin. I had of course bought some hand wash but managed to leave it behind in the hotel to my utter dismay. It was probably about the 6 hour mark of the trip that this was taking place by the way. So by the next morning my stomach could hold on no longer and I had to brave the toilet.

I could smell it before I’d even left my berth, I walked down the packed isle of people glaring at me as I passed, I believed I’d managed to convince the five women sharing the berths across from mine to stand vigilant over my possessions and the fear of theft hurried me onwards. I had to wait of course, as the moment I chose coincided with the great train rush for the bathroom. Finally taking a deep deep breath I entered. I locked the door behind me, and eyed my new hell like a battlefield commander decided how best to storm his objective. It was bleak. I have used 3rd world train toilets before (once – Thailand two years ago) so I had a basic plan, however, this is India and I was still struggling to find a way to bring myself to touch things, a little obsessive I’ll admit but not to the extremes of George Constanza. I took off my shorts, it was a sure bet that they’d be covered if I didn’t, rolled the up and placed them on what I deemed to be the safest place, and stepped up to the plate, literally. The toilet was a recessed bowl angled towards a gaping hole, in this bowl were two foot sized plinths with grip. A hose in front of this bowl dribbled water and the everything was moist…

I took my position on the plate, lined myself up as best I could, thankful that we were at a station and hence immobile.

I walked back to my berth, glad t find my belongings still intact. the train started rolling off the platform, and my stomach cramped tightly again the countdown began again, could I hold out for the last four hours before having to return…

Total trip time 25 hours, by the end I was soaked utterly soaked, tiered, dehydrated, suffering heat stroke and dysentery had set in. I was in bed for two days after.

Don’t take anything less than AC2!