If I’m to get a decent night’s sleep on this train, I’m going to have to drink a lot more. I swear, last night we went cross-country and there were pot-holes aplenty. Trains aren’t supposed to do that. They are supposed to glide smoothly on two polished ribbons of steel. Walking back to our room involves pinballing down narrow corridors and I think i’ve done a hammy. Don’t get me wrong, the staff are great as is the service, the food is superb, the drinks are eminently reasonable and the presentation is immaculate, but this train has square wheels. The shinkansen it aint.
We’ve just been to the Taj Mahal. As with all ancient or at least centuries old wonders of the world, the numbers associated with it are mind-blowing. It took 20000 workers 22 years, from 1631 to 1653 to build it (admittedly short by European cathedral standards) in honour of a woman who bore 14 kids in 18 years, a tradition which families in this country have striven to uphold ever since. After a marathon like that the poor lady expired from over exertion but she has a magnificent monument to her efforts which one or two catholics might be a tad jealous of.
Actually, regarding the time it took to build this thing, if the heat is anything to go by, it’s not at all surprising. It’s all we can do to drag our feet around unencumbered let alone carrying a big block of marble. But if the Taj had been built in Norway, it’d have been finished in about three weeks. Have I mentioned how hot it’s been. It’s been, should I visit one of the wonders of the world or stay in the train’s airconditioned bar, hot. It’s been Monica Bellucci hot. And I got a cold. How did that happen and how mesmerisingly ironic. Bloody climate change….or something. Actually that’s been mentioned a few times by the guides and as there are only 18 of us (excluding staff) on this train, rather that alienate the climateers I’ve kept schtum. Notwithstanding climate debates and entirely due to the heat, I’m currently surviving on muscle memory and sense of smell.
Further on health matters, we’ve been in India for well over a week and the inevitable is yet to happen for me. In a perverse way I was sort of looking forward to it because my hat’s a bit tight and when the trapdoor opens you can usually be guaranteed to drop a couple of hat sizes. But Delhi belly will be lurking I have no doubt so the wait is like what the redcoats had to endure at Rorke’s Drift. Only a matter of time before the Zulus explode into view with debilitating mayhem on their agenda. Actually, the wait’s not quite that bad.
One thing I have noticed, or haven’t to be more precise, is the complete absence of the once ubiquitous Ambassador car. When I first started coming to India in the late 1980’s, they were pretty much the only cars on the road. Now, in your typical city commute, you are totally hemmed in by Korean and Japanese cars and the same trucks and buses – they haven’t gone anywhere. But where could the Ambassadors have gone? The things were damn near indestructible. I was in an accident in one many years ago. Today the front of the car would have needed considerable TLC from your favourite panel beater. Our Ambassador back then – not a mark. The inside of the car was chaotic with papers and bags (and people) strewn about but the outside was business as usual.
Many years ago I spent some time walking the various government ministries trying to get a number of projects underway. One of the most comical scenes I saw was when convoys of Ambassadors left a ministerial building, like a stream of Noddy cars, conveying a minister somewhere. Amidst all the flashing lights and sirens there were security people hanging out of windows waving their arms to get traffic out of the way. Good luck with that.