The thought of taking a train in India terrified me.
First of all, India has a very, very bad track record (pardon the pun) of railway deaths. According to thehindu.com, the number of fatalities on railway tracks in India in 2014 and 2015 were 25,068 and 25,006 respectively, and has been rising steadily each year. These figures include accidental deaths and suicides, but the most common cause of train deaths is derailment due to poorly maintained tracks. The Indian Railways gets over 22 million passengers every day. New trains are constantly being added to the already overused tracks, with insufficient time or budget for maintenance work. Most of the rail sections in India are operating beyond capacity.
Secondly, even if I managed to stay alive throughout the train ride, I didn't think it was something that I would enjoy very much. Indian trains are notorious for being super congested. They are a no woman's land. Watch this YouTube video to get an idea:
In May 2015, I found myself in Agra wanting to go to Rishikesh. I hadn't had any plans or done any research whatsoever on how to get there. Fortunately, I met three boys at my hostel who were heading the same way. They were three Italian solo travelers who had crossed paths and decided to go to Rishikesh together. One was my age and the other two were younger. We decided to take a train to Delhi, and from there a bus to Rishikesh.
The receptionist of our hostel helped us check train tickets on the website, but as it turned out, all the tickets had been fully booked months before. The first- and second-class carriages required advance bookings. Our only option was to go to the train station and see if we managed to get ourselves the third-class tickets. We did. However, when the train arrived, we realized that there was no more space for us. People were already pushing each other and hanging at the doors. I didn't see any other woman on it.
The guys and I sneaked into the second-class carriage. It wasn't any posher, but there were fewer people. Still, all the seats were taken. Then one of us had a brilliant idea. We climbed up onto the overhead luggage compartments that were half empty. There was just enough space for the four of us, two in each compartment, facing each other. I think they doubled as sleeping berths at night.
The family below us protested in Hindi and tried shooing us away. We tried bargaining with them in English. Since neither of us understood the other, in the end they gave up. We stayed. It was hot and stuffy up there and we had to stoop a little, but at least we had a place to sit. At every stop, there were people coming on board to sell food and drinks.
The journey took close to 6 hours if I remember correctly. Eventually, near the end of our trip, the train inspectors caught us for being in the wrong carriage. The boys used their white male privilege to talk their way out of paying a fine. Fortunately, I got to share that privilege too. We only paid the ticket difference.
These are the pictures of us sitting on the overhead luggage compartment. I never could have done it without them, and I don't think I would ever want to do it again.
