Swarmi J Raj, sleeper Train - 29th April

Now this really is surreal. It appears I have succeeded in offending the IRCTC. I’ve been sharing a compartment with a family; granddad, mum and two boys about 4 & 7. Each compartment on thye sleeper is divided into a 4 bunk section - the bunks going across the carriage, and a 2 bunk section - the bunks going lengthwise. The corridor runs between them. The family has been split up because I purchased my ticket first, selecting a bottom bunk in the 4 bunk part. To foster a spirit of international harmony, and because one of the little boys wasn’t happy with this arrangement, I swapped so that the family can be together. I’ve made up my new bed on the bottom bunk of the lengthways bunks. A train official is talking to me very loudly and waving his arms, but it isn’t helping. The grandfather has intervened on my behalf and the man has gone away. I have had no explanation of the problem. There is only one blanket for these two bunks and I think they are saying I have stolen the guard’s blanket. This lower bunk is formed by folding the seat backs down so that they meet in the middle. It flexes with the jolting of the train – it’s going to be like sleeping across Tower Bridge. It is also much narrower than the cross-ways berth I had originally – only as wide as the pillow which is around 18 inches.
Oh dear, the official is back. He’s now talking to the mother very volubly. It is worse than I thought. I haven't stolen his blanket, I’ve stolen the guard’s bed! I am now decamping to the top bunk.

The top bunk is under the curve of the carriage roof. The night light is on the wall behind my head so I can’t sit without leaning my back on it. Lying there, it really is only as wide as a plank. The two chains on which the bunk is suspended also stop you falling out. I can’t stop chuckling – or is it a wave of hysteria? The mother calls out to see if I’m ok; it seems she thought I was crying. The air-con vents blow over the top of my privacy curtain and my head is beside the carriage door, which squeaks. I still can’t stop laughing.