Asia 2006: Random Bozo pays a final visit to Goa

Karnatakan luggage-rack splinters

My alarm went off at 3 am - as planned! I dragged clothes on and lurched my belongings onto my back, then goggled as Ajeesh went out into the cold, rainy weather to have a cold shower. Normally they seem not to affect him (well, they appear to clean him but you know what I mean) but after this one he was shivering. I said final goodbyes to Jaya, Gopalakrishna and Radhalakshmi and walked in the gentle drizzle down to the car. We drove to town and stopped at a printer to check on progress in printing Jaya's wedding invitations. While we were there, two auto drivers came into the printers office and spoke with Ajeesh. He softly asked me 'shall we go' but when I got to the car, it turned out he had meant 'let's go NOW!' Another auto had backed into his car door, dented it, then sped off so the driver could avoid Ajeesh's wrath.

Ajeesh sped us in the direction of Udumbanchola, throwing the car around curves and driving with what felt like utter abandon - he really wanted to catch this git: after all, he'd just spent a lot of money having his car serviced. At Udumbanchola he asked people waiting at a bus stand if they'd seen an auto pass by. They hadn't, so he thought it must have turned off the road before then. Somehow he tracked down the auto's owners. I knew that if they didn't sort out their recalcitrant driver then they'd have to face a very pissed-off Ajeesh. I'm sure he'd have settled for an apology and a token few rupees, at least to start with: this door has already been bashed by a jeep and I think the jeep's driver has given him enough to pay for the repair. The new knock hardly increases the repair task, in my ignorant opinion. However, because the bugger buggered off, Ajeesh is very upset. I think this is the second time someone has deliberately damaged his car and then refused to compensate him.

We then drove on via Rajakkad to meet Rajesh and hand over some of the invitations. Apparently as 'elder brother' this had become my task. Two of Rajesh's aunts got into the car: since we were going past Adimaly and they needed to go there too...

I think I slept for a lot of the rest of the journey. I don't remember the aunts getting out. At Ernakulam I found that my train's times had been altered: it would leave at 10·45, not 12·45. This meant I had 15 minutes to visit an ATM, get a ticket and get on the train - not even enough time to have a last chaya with Ajeesh. In fact it was after 10·45 by the time I got back from the ATM: thank goodness for late-running trains. I cried as my train pulled out of the station. I know I'll be back but...

Of course, only unreserved, third-class tickets were available. This portended over 12 hours of hard wooden seats, heat and overcrowding. Actually, most of the journey wasn't too bad, apart from whenever the train arrived at a station, lots of vendors came into each coach to hawk their coffee, etc, very loudly.

Also, as the train stopped at Trissur, I realised I needed a pen. I ran to a platform shop and bought one. As I was receiving my change, I heard the trains mournful siren and saw it starting to move so I jumped on via the nearest door. This was in an ACII (air-conditioned, 2 tier sleeper) coach but I thought I'd be able to walk along the train, back to 'steerage' class. Wrong - they keep the scum locked away from the fragrant coaches! So I stood in the ACII doorway vestibule so that I could honestly say that I hadn't used any of the ACII seats and got paranoid about my luggage. I had no problems resuming my proper station at the next station, much to my relief, and all I'd lost was some sweat and a chaya.

Even better: just as we left Kasargod I got a whole luggage-rack to myself! With my rucksack as a pillow and my jacket, jumper, bag of dirty clothes and lunghi as cushioning, it's quite acceptable. (Getting in and out is a bit of a challenge.) Most other luggage-racks and seats were doubly-occupied and some people had laid newspaper or blankets on the carriage floor and were schnorkelling away. I passed the time buried in a newspaper, making up silly rhymes and trying to avoid the usual questions.

One bloke introduced a new question: what caste am I? I replied 'none' and asked him his caste. He said he's muslim but that in his opinion there are only two castes: male and female. I giggled when I heard this.