A Ticket to Ride

Wednesday June 25^th

Over the past two days I spent a lot of time inside. Jack did not seem up for doing anything outside and he was not willing to let us adventure on our own. We mostly read and played cards (I'm about 5/200 for solitaire which was also bringing my mood down). Additionally, our tickets to freedom where still up in the air. We were numbers 18, 19 and 20 on the wait list and I didn't think our chances were too good of getting them regardless of how confident our Uncle was. For the following story to make sense, I have to explain a little bit about the Indian train system:

Trains are one of the most popular forms of travel in India and due to the large population, tickets can be difficult to get on short notice. Tickets come, most commonly, in one of 4 “classes”. The cheapest are the Sleeper class (SL for short) and this is how the general public usually travels. There is no air conditioning and no place to lay down during the day. According to the guidebook, SL is the way to go to see the “real India” whatever that means. The next is 3^rd class, air-conditioned (3AC) which is the air conditioned version of the sleeper class but costs a little bit more money. 2^Nd and 1^st class, air-conditioned (2AC and 1AC respectively) are how the middle and upper class travel and offer more privacy, more space and less noise than the other classes, at a premium of course.

In addition to the different classes, tickets are separated into different quotas. There is the general quota which can be purchased 120 days before departure but usually sells out in the week or two before. Then there are quotas for foreigners, meaning that they reserve some tickets for tourists who have not planned that far in advance. There are also other quotas for women and the elderly but these seem largely unused as far as I can tell. Lastly, they put aside a certain number of tickets that are to be sold the day before departure. These are known as “Tatkal” which means something like “immediate”.

For all of these ticket types, if there are no available spots on the train you can purchase a ticket and be put on a wait list. Then, as people cancel their tickets (which happens pretty regularly) you move up the list and eventually may get on the train, otherwise you get a refund.

Anyway, Uncle Jack thought for sure we would get on the train but talking to the other father's I was not so convinced. Since it was the day before our departure, however, we could try to get the tatkal (immediate) tickets at the ticketing station. Not having left the building in about two days, I decided to accompany my uncle to the station on his motorbike around 9:30 in the morning.

The day was already stifling but the wind from cruising down the streets felt great. All of the sights and sounds were assaulting in the bustling weekday morning in Patna. We went through a small side street and came upon an all-girls catholic school that was just starting for the day. Hundreds of 6-8 year old girls were arriving at the gates. Many came with their fathers on the front of bicycles and motor bikes, while more came by various forms of autorickshaw, packing 10-12 into a single one. They all wore pink uniforms and black shoes. It was both absurd and adorable at the same time.

We got to the ticket station and found two lines of people waiting to purchase various tatkal tickets. A line is actually a gross overstatement. It looked more like a line of people took a running start and threw themselves at the service window. The people in front were being smushed by the people behind and had been forced sideways and forward. It was only towards the end where Uncle Jack stood that the mass of people resembled a line. For the first 30 minutes that we waited not a single person was helped. I had no idea what was going on but everyone was yelling in Hindi and the people behind the desk kept getting up and leaving and coming back to people pounding on their window. The power would flicker on and off causing the ceiling fans to turn off for long and hot periods of time. Eventually things started moving but once they did, everyone seemed to start trying to cut each other in line, or so it seemed. Arguments kept breaking out as people tried to get closer to the window but nobody ever raised a hand or seemed truly angry. Eventually, Jack got to the window but was told he couldn't be helped because he had an American passport and had forgot to bring his Indian drivers license. An hour down the drain but we were still determined, and as Uncle Jack says “this is just how it goes”

Next, we drove another ten minutes to the actual platform and tried to get tickets from the foreign quota. We waited about 20 minutes for someone to come help us and as we were waiting Uncle Jack told me “you can't get impatient, they won't understand that”. That really struck me because the first reaction of most people in America is to become indignant and angry about how PERSONALLY inconvenient this is. In India, its just how it goes.

The man finally showed up but somehow had never heard of the foreign quota and sent us on our way. Another hour down the drain. We went back to St. Xavier's and picked up Uncle Jack's drivers license. and headed back to the first stop, the ticket station. There was no line this time and we quickly got our tatkal tickets to Siliguri in the SL class. I guess in the end a little patience pays off.

 Later in the evening, as the sun was going down it began to rain really hard again. The rainfall changed the color of the sky to an eerie yellow color so Leslie and I just relaxed and watched it for a while. I snapped a few photos that don't quite do it justice: