Train to Belgaum

Incongruently excerpted from my journal...



8/2 - 9:53 p.m. Today was rather uneventful until now. My class and I are riding the night train from Bangalore to Belgaum, about a 10-hour ride. I'm laying down on my starchy whites under a green felt blanket, my feet propped up on my duffel bag (there's no room for it elsewhere). Most people are starting to do the same, but others are wide awake, probably hoping to exacerbate their night time energy for a rest mid-way.


It's very easy to fall asleep here, on the train and in India. Travel is exhausting, because it is so stimulating and manual. A walk to all your shopping areas, a rickshaw through bustling thoroughfares, a train through the desert. Even being so rudimentary, these systems of transportation are efficient and extraordinary. A friend told me there's a sort of cycle-bound carrier service in Mumbai that delivers office workers lunches from their wives using a very basic colour-coding system. They deliver all over the city and apparently have never had a complaint. I wonder if our postal service should take a tip.

I think I'm going to have to use the bathroom again before I sleep. The bathroom is simple, too. There's a hole and two raised steps on which to balance yourself as you squat. Where does the waste go? Well, we're riding over it right now.

I stood between two of the carriages and watched the little wedge of lights whizz by. This is a good analogy for what my brain is doing right now. I'm on a journey between spheres of knowledge, wherein my dispossession of each grows. My window on this journey is narrow, and although I know what I'm seeing has unfathomable depth, all I can do is stare at it hoping for small glimmers along the way.

I tried to take a picture, but it didn't turn out.

8/3 - 8:13 a.m. We're almost to our stop. A bit longer than I thought. The train made several stops during the night, and my bunkmate Kelly said she kept waking and worrying if any were ours. I feel incredibly well-rested, but it could be the intensely sweet chai I had. The daylight brought us a scenery of green grass, fields of grain, and lush low hillsides. A mist lazily hangs above them. I know it's still India because of the red sand. Whether from rainfall or natural richness, the ground is scattered with pools of water that mix with the soil, making its colour even more vibrant. It so resembles a rich chai or madras curry that you bet it would taste as good.



Around 12 p.m., we met with the Dalit feminist federation. I can't remember their name, but they represent 600 women from 29 villages, have been organizing movements for women's rights and empowerment since 1995, and are the very soul of grassroots. It's amazing what change open dialogue can bring. It was so enlightening and refreshing to hear their individual struggles and share our concerns for universal livelihood. The language barrier alone is intimidating, but once you get over that and really engage yourself, you see how willing others are to join you.

Namaste!

I know a lot of this is deep stuff (it is for me, anyway). Here's a link to my Picasa photo album for a more comprehensive depiction of my trip. :)