Give Me a Week and They’ll Elect Me Mayor

Having Conquered the Big City of Bangalore, your Intrepid Adventurer set out to take over the Rest of India. What would be next: Delhi? Done that. Mumbai? Nah, everyone’s done Mumbai. No, it would have to be the “Real India!” The India where Everyone Lives! (No one lives in the cities: it’s too crowded.) Your Fearless Hero must set out for the Countryside, to the Small Towns and Villages. No one can know the Real India until they have journeyed to the Heart of India!

And so, with much Planning, careful Preparation, and Extreme Attention to Detayl, your Undaunted Explorer set off by Train to the Town of Kuppam, not having the slightest idea where He was going or what He would do once He got there. But fear not, for your Determined Dreamer persevered, bought something from every Merchant in town, shook the hand of every Voter, photographed every Child, and kissed every Baby. With the Kid’s Vote firmly in hand, the Merchants’ Guild behind him 100%, his face known to every Voter, and the Baby Vote, (though uncertain of the issues) is in love with him, your Proud Politician is certain to win every vote in town in the next Election for Mayor. What a proud Day that will be!!!!!

Part I - The Train

Okay, perhaps I’m laying on a little thick. Earlier this week, I fulfilled a long-standing dream to ride in Second Class in an Indian train and visit a small town or village. I’ve wanted to do this since my study of Gandhi, who traveled by train, mostly in Second Class, where most Indians traveled, and I wanted to try it out.

I picked Kuppam, about 1.5 hours away by train. I couldn’t find out much about the place except that it was in “the middle of nowhere.” Sounded good to me. My plan was to get there, spend a couple of hours, then return the same day.

So I went to the train station to purchase a ticket, which I have done before. I first fought my way through a crowd at the “General Inquires” window to get an application for a train ticket. These applications are handed out one at a time to people who force their way past the people who have real questions. It’s equivalent to a Royal Benefaction to receive one of the coveted applications.

After meticulously filling out the form, with the proper train number and station code, I joined the line at the “Senior Citizen, Handicapped or Foreign Tourist” window. Forty-five minutes later, my turn came. The agent said, “Oh, you want to go today? Then you have to go to the train station.” In my mind I said, “That’s where I thought I was” but I saved my breath. I had naively assumed that the place where train tickets were sold (where I was) was the train station.

After some searching, I found an open window next to another “General Inquiries” window, and after a brief struggle, fought my way to the front where I purchased a train ticket for Rs 120 (about $2.40.) Looking at it carefully, I could find no indication that it was a round-trip ticket. Having not given up my position, I only had to shove one kid to the side to ask “Is this a round-trip ticket?” “No,” the agent said, surprised. “You can’t buy the return trip from this window. You have to go to the “Senior Citizen, Handicapped or Foreign Tourist” window."

So back to the “Senior Citizen, Handicapped or Foreign Tourist” window I went. Twenty minutes later, the ticket agent looked at me and said, “Why are you here again?” Meekly, I said “This is where they told me to go….Please don’t hurt me…” She took pity on this Foreign Tourist and looked in her computer. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I can’t book the return trip. You’ll have to buy the ticket at the train station in Kuppam.”

At least I had a ticket to get on the train. Later, a fellow passenger saw the ticket and was surprised that I had one because Second Class passengers have no tickets. The ticket agent assumed I had made a mistake when I asked for Second Class and simply assigned me a seat in another section. I should have paid Rs 58 (about $1.) Oh, well.

So just what is Second Class? There are roughly seven classes of tickets on Indian trains. This is the bottom, the cheapest. It’s also unreserved, which means that anyone who wants to get on the train in Second Class gets on, and everyone else makes room.

Imagine any train you’ve been on. It has some bench seats where three people can sit. It probably has some luggage racks overhead so people can get their luggage out of the way. The aisles are narrow but passable.

OK. On this imaginary train, put five people on each of the bench seats. If there’s an occasional single seat, have a second person perch on the edge. Then look at those overhead luggage racks. Put two or three people on each rack. Now, in a section with six or eight seats, you have about 18 people. (On the right is a view of people sitting and sleeping on the overhead luggage racks.)



Let’s add another three of four people. Where do they sit? Did you say “sit?” If there’s room, they can sit on the floor, but you can fit more people if you stand. After all, it’s only a six or seven hour ride.

Now the train car has windows (no glass) so there’s some air circulation, and fans on the ceiling keep air moving even for those of us on the luggage racks. But it’s much more pleasant if you can stand near the open door. A group of about 10 people crowded to get close to the door and the fresh air.

So I was on the top, sitting on a wood and metal luggage rack. On the first train, there was sufficient clearance so that I could sit up; on the second train, I could only lie down (though there was only one person on each rack, so it wasn’t crowded.) Did I mention that it was in the upper 80s outside though it was warmer in the train? How’s it sound so far?

Well, I loved it. I’m one of those people who is quite willing to be uncomfortable if I’m doing something I love. (Think of all the hiking I do when I get hot, sweaty, tired and uncomfortable.) And this was great. I wouldn’t do it routinely, and it’s not for everyone. Most Indians travel in reserved cars; there’s only one Second Class car on the train.

I tried to walk through the crowd and couldn’t get anywhere. Literally. I know how to move through dense subway crowds, and I was able to move 8 feet before being stopped by the even denser mass of people at the door. I took out my camera and tried to take pictures over their heads. After a few minutes, a passenger who was getting off at the next stop offered me his window seat, which was extremely nice. So for 20 minutes, I sat at the window and took pictures with the legs of a sound-asleep 2-year old boy on my lap. No problem.





In the movie below, I'm sitting at the window quietly filming the scene. The train is at a station, and people have boarded the train to sell food and drink. The audio is the most interesting. Vendors are calling out their products: "samosas" and "coffee". There are five adults on the bench seat, plus two children sleeping on laps. You can see the luggage rack above with people on it.

Tomorow: Part II - Kuppam