A belated post - 1st class, Indian Style!

So, I apologize for writing about something three weeks after it happened, perhaps it makes my writing a bit more disingenuous, but I have to post about our first class train ride from Dehra Dun to Punjab. There are many other students who while away their time at Landour Language School, the school which brought me to the wonderful hill station of Mussoorie - which is perhaps the one good thing that the British left in India. There are two clowns in particular which I became friends with. One is Becky, who is actually a vestige of what happens when people take over other countries, their own people become like the people they are taking over! Suckers. Actually, one should read "White Mughals," by William Dalrymple, also the author of "The Last Mughal," (the man likes Mughals, what can I say), to gain a more in depth understanding of just how Indianized many British were before a reactionary movement (which was also sadly a religious; i.e. Christian movement) sent them into imperial pride, racism and further segregration. But back to the protagonists of our story. Becky is British, but wants to be Indian (I'm just kidding Becky, but you know it's true). Her mother was also visiting. Kelly is from my country, good old America, and is proof of how strong an influence over-excited dancing Indian people in Bollywood movies can have on people across the world. Watching Bollywood movies is just mesmerizing, eventually you want to be like them. I'm just kidding, both are wonderful people, love India, and I am proud to know them.

I invited them to stay with my family in Punjab, or, "the Poonjaab," as our colonial friend Becky likes to call it, and they hastily agreed. We booked a first class train ride from Dehra Dun to Amritsar, where my mama and mami live (uncle and aunt on my mom's side). The train was scheduled to set out at 6:00 am sharp. We were tired, we were distraught. Well, I was fine, I was leaving from Mussoorie, only an hour away, but Becky, her mom, and Kelly had been traveling around Uttarakhand, the state where Mussoorie is located, for about 2 weeks. I expected them to be tired, worn out, and a little crabby. I was not expecting them to be as grimy as they were when I saw them though. When I saw all three carrying their luggage, Becky and her mom equipped with proper backpacking gear, fit for the occasion, and Kelly with a big suitcase and a bright blue sari, completely unfit for the occasion, I was quite taken aback. If I had to guess, they hadn't showered in a few days, nor had they changed their clothes, or even their socks. "Well," I thought, "at least we have first class to look forward to."

Aaaah, but India is full of surprises. Sometimes wonderful, sometimes not so wonderful. First, a little history. When we booked our trains, all the more well-known trains were full. Eventually, we found a train that was going our direction. We booked first class, as we thought it would be easiest since we didn't know which train we were taking. Now, on the Indian Rail website, you can book first class, but you can book it with or without something called "AC." AC means that it's closed windows, and heated, which helps with keeping out the freezing night air.

We booked it without AC, simply because we neglected to notice it. A valuable lesson learned. Never book overnight trains in the cold northern part of India without AC. First class just means closed compartment, i.e., you can close the door, and people can't come into your compartment, and there are 4 beds. Now it's time for pictures. You have to see it to believe it.

It was the most grungy, grimy, nasty, cold, miserable place I have ever been. The explanation goes as follows. The Amritsar Death Express, as I have fondly named it, is a ridiculously old train, and it doesn't really HAVE first class anymore. What I mean is, the first class that we stayed in dated back probably 30 years at least; there was no glass in the windows, there was such a thick layer of grime on the upper beds that I chose to sleep in a different cabin, it was freezing because of the dense fog and cold air, it was miserable. We had no idea. Before we got on the train, we saw the passenger list posted on the outside of it. We were happy because we were the only 4 people on the first class train. Yay! Privacy! More like, Yay! Stupidity! All the other Indians knew what first class without AC really meant, and none of them decided to take it, which explained why the whole dibba was deserted. Please, just take a look at Becky's face, and that will explain it all.

We arrived late, left late, I must have slept about 2 hours the whole night. When I finally did manage to sleep, I woke up because my feet were freezing, since even though I had my socks and my shoes on, the fog managed to seep through it all and basically drench my feet. I was miserable, and it was quite an experience for me, one that I don't ever want to repeat. While we laughed about it later, and we will forever laugh about it, there is one thing for sure, I am never traveling non-AC ever again, even if it "first class."