Night Train to Jaisalmer

As we trotted behind the sprinting coolies and their seemingly weightless burden of our suitcases into Jodhpur station, I looked around in amazement. A spotless platform, no unrolled bedding on the platform floor with families sleeping on them, no crowds. Had we reached the end of the world as we know it in India?

“The place hardly has any trains passing through!” scoffed my husband (Pr) at my impressed exclamation. But I was determined to see the bright side of things and mumbled a retort on behalf of Jodhpur’s railway administration.

To tell the truth, I was most apprehensive. The idea of a night train from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer was mine. I wanted to initiate my 6-year old daughter (Lv) into the rites of passage of overnight train travel in India. Mind you, the child is most well-traveled both in India and abroad, but somehow, is not very Indian-rail savvy. It’s our fault mostly – who wants to take on coolies, platforms and dirty toilets when one can easily get serpentine security queues, congealed food and cramped seats for half the travel-time. So, as the resident travel harridan, I had pretty much dumped this overnight trip on an unwilling spouse. And I was hoping that my parents would enjoy this journey as a reminder of our last trip to Jaisalmer, two decades back, when we had traveled unreserved to see the “golden fortress”! So, for the last 15 days, I had been giving glorious accounts to my daughter of delightful railway travel. She seemed convinced. But at 11 pm energies were flagging and my fingers were crossed, in a quiet plea for minimal trouble.

As we followed the coolies into our compartment, the first hurdle was already up. The bottom-tier of the 3AC seat was so low, that two of our over-stuffed bags could not be accommodated underneath. There were no vacant spots nearby to be forcefully occupied either – the train was filled to capacity. I could see Pr’s furrowed brows and busied myself explaining berth arrangements to Lv and Baba-Ma. There are definite advantages in relinquishing the position of Head-of-Household for the sake of gender sometimes. Pr and his Coolie team left to find space for the offending bags, to my relief. As we settled into our seats, I turned my attention to our “co-passengers” and was not pleased.

Baba was sitting squeezed in a corner of his berth while the rest of the space was occupied by a lady in a hairy jacket and her two sleepy children in horizontal positions. This didn’t add up! We were a group of five and if we added Hairy Jacket-and-brood, that totaled to eight. Didn’t 3AC accommodate six people in every cubicle? Ma was already giving killer looks to the sleepy children but they were unperturbed. I quickly got Lv to lie down and occupy maximum space of the remaining lower berth to gain lost ground. To be fair to the lady, it became apparent soon that she was not intending to usurp sleeping space but was awaiting railway “bedding” to be distributed before putting all heads to rest.

“How much should the coolies be paid?” Pr had successfully stowed the bags somewhere with the TT’s permission and was back. “100 rupees between the two”, declared Baba decisively. “If they don’t agree, give more,” he added, his resolve already melting. (Pr, usually an indefatigable bargainer, returned five minutes later, a defeated soldier. “Two hundred and fifty rupees” he sighed.)

Keeping my faith in Indian Railways alive, the train left Jodhpur dot at 11 pm. Lv had slept off in her horizontal position and Baba had found some more elbow-space. Pr had joined Ma in glaring down Hairy-Jacket over his plastic teacup.

I heaved a sigh of relief as the coach-attendant finally made an appearance with pillows and blankets. “Abhi aap hatiye”, I declared to Hairy-Jacket.

“Inke Papa abhi aakar bedding bichha denge. Bachche so gaye hain.” She was impervious to any kind of animosity.

Ma immediately made a case for her sleeping grand-daughter – “Hamare bachche bhi soyenge!”

“Let’s prepare the two middle berths meanwhile” I told Pr, to stave off a conflict situation.

At this point my optimism for a smooth journey faded. The fixing buckle (is that what its called?) for the middle berth was refusing to lock into the slot and Pr was seriously angry. “This is indigenous engineering for you! Can’t get a simple locking system to work. It’s a daft idea to travel by train!”

“Now the deed is done.” said Baba commiseratively, casting grave doubts in my mind about how much he was enjoying this trip down memory lane.

By now a crowd had gathered to help get the delinquent buckle to obey. The TT, coach attendant, some more fellow travelers – all struggled with the contraption.

“Ho gaya!” whooped one man victoriously as a welcome click was heard. As I turned to him gratefully, I saw him heaving one of the two sleepy brats onto the upper berth. He was the bed-laying Papa! How could I call this saviour’s wife Hairy-Jacket? I was seriously ashamed of being a meanie.

Anyway, it seemed smooth sailing after that. Everybody settled into their respective bunks, lights were switched off and the train hurtled through the desert making a familiar din. As I dozed off, my mind fluctuated between concern that Lv may tumble off the bed and regret that she had slept before she realized how the train bed felt. Wasn’t that the purpose of this journey? For her to experience these sights and sounds that I, as a child, had enjoyed and remembered forever?

I woke up with a start a couple of hours later as the train jerked to a stop. As I looked down from my middle berth to check on my sleeping baby, she grinned up at me. “Hi!” I waved back. I quietly climbed down and sat next to her.

“Look at the station outside. It’s covered with sand!!”

She peeped out of the window and laughed in delight at the unusual sight of a tiny platform covered with little mounds of sand, the mica in them glittering in the moonlight! We cuddled for a while and I tucked her back in, climbed up to my berth and waved good night. I felt elated to know that she had managed to see the dim flatness of the desert outside the train window and felt the rocking motion of the train on her maiden journey.

Indian Railways did not fail me. We trundled into Jaisalmer exactly at the scheduled time at 5 am. As we hopped onto the platform with our abundant luggage and peered around for our hotel pick-up, I noticed that the station was spick-and-span with lovely Jaisalmer sandstone benches. The air was cold and crisp and the sky was dotted with sparkling stars and an unrealistically large full-moon.

“The place has one coolie and he hasn’t showed up for work this morning. Let me look for the pick-up.” Pr was still not convinced.

But waiting with my parents and daughter on the empty platform, all muffled up, I knew I would love Jaisalmer.

Epilogue: Lv declared later in her Rajasthan trip highlights that sleeping in the train with Mama waving from her bunk bed was one of the best parts. Pr took at least a couple of thousand pictures at the lovely Shonar Kella. Baba-Ma spent much time reminiscing about our last trip and exclaiming how much the town had changed in 28 years. I felt kind of redeemed… and relieved.