George Winters said, “If God had really intended men to fly, he’d make it easier to get to the airport”, which is why we decided to take the train to Udipi – my dad’s hometown.
It was only a four and half hour journey further south of Goa. Taking a plane would have meant first landing at Mangalore airport and then an hour’s car ride to Udipi. Moreover I’ve always been wary of landing at the Mangalore airport as its main runway ends in a cliff; a fact which piqued M.’s interest. (Have I already mentioned that his aversion to risk is extremely low?) Thankfully, he liked the idea of a train trip even more.
We parked ourselves and our backpacks next to two families who we thought were travelling together. As M. and I found out later, the only thing they had in common was the train schedule that day.
This really wouldn’t have been newsworthy except that together they talked, laughed and shared food (and other things… keep reading) with an easy familiarity, that it was difficult to believe they’d only just met.
In fact, only a few hours before, the gentleman sitting next to us had borrowed a pair of men’s slippers from the other family as his had slid too far under the seat and he was desperate for the loo!
And to think that I have trouble sharing my ice cream with M. some days.
We were soon included in their food circle. And then incredibly even people from the back of the compartment started passing us some of their snacks, particularly for M. to try.
We’d been told many times by people in Goa not to accept things to eat from people on the train. “They put drugs in the food and then steal your stuff” they told us. M. and I decided it was best to follow the “Que serra, serra” approach that day. (Sorry Ralph.) Tempting though it was we did, however, politely refuse their offers to buy us tea. I wasn’t going to be that adventurous with the water, even if it was hot.
And then a eunuch descended upon us and people on the train emptied their pockets for money and gave it to him/her. The eunuch didn’t even have to ask. All s/he did was to clap (more a sickening clack of the palms) and people forked over money without a word.
Apparently, eunuchs have black magic powers and can hex you. I’m so glad I didn’t know this. I’m quite superstitious and would have probably made M. hand over all our holiday money. (I’m sure we were once hexed by a gypsy woman in the UK. Three days of bad luck followed us, including a bus accident. So forgive my paranoia, readers).
For the second time on the trip M. and his camera were the tourist attraction. The father of the family sitting next to us kept repeating “Murudeshwar!” and “camera ready!”. His son who spoke some English was too excited to explain anything to me. They all kept looking out of the window, tapping M. on the shoulder encouraging him to keep the camera ready for the picture. Poor M. kept taking pictures of random buildings. When the statue did come into view, he almost missed it. Thank god for long range zooms.
Just before we were to get off in Udipi the train picked up more passengers than it could handle. M. decided took whip out the video camera and the crowd gave us a show to remember! My M. may just have a promising future as a Bollywood film maker…
When he got off the train, the young boy sitting next to M. (third picture from the top in this post) looked for me as he got down onto the platform and then gave me a million dollar smile and we waved goodbye.
Want proof that you get a lot for your money in India? Together we paid less than 5 Swiss francs for a four and a half hour train ride.
Train rides in Switzerland are never this cheap or entertaining…