I still love Indian railways. I was ridiculously early at Pune station for my last trip to Mumbai, mistaking 1026 for the departure time, when it was actually the train number. Never mind, I had the pleasure of watching the station being cleaned. First, the lady with the switch broom brought all the bits out from the edges and under the seats, and splashed a bit of water about – more promise than lick, I’m afraid. Then the guy in charge dipped a cup in a bucket of water and threw water all over the platform for two lads with huge squeegees to sluice around. The guy splashed water with only partial regard to either passengers or bags, which was entertaining, and the Indians, as ever, carried on the business of catching trains, without complaint. The squeegee boys push the water and rubbish into piles – and shove it onto the track.
The net result is to remove all the goodies on which the flies had been feeding, leaving them with nothing more exciting to land on than the perspiring bodies of the travellers, which they did in their droves.
I was a bit restless on the train, journey’s end I suppose, and spent most of my time in the doorway watching the Mararashtran landscape pass by. The train climbs slowly to around 2000 ft. above sea level, giving magnificent views across deep gorges to distant mountains.
I had to change at Karjat station, and switch to a local train. Great fun this, I wish I’d found the time to do it more often. This is the archetypal cram-’em-all-on train, and the nearer to the centre of Mumbai we came, the greater the crowding. Kurla station, my final destination, was crowded with people, and had the media in attendance. A Bollywood star no doubt.
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