Day 5: Pinakini Express

View from The Pinakini Express

We departed Chennai in a third class car of The Pinakini Express for a 5-hour train ride to Bapatla. Chris, Andrew, and Bongani mostly shared one seat in Section D5 surrounded by a group of young Muslim men while I alternated between various open doorways to the outside. One of my favorite positions was to sit in a doorway with my legs extended to the exterior, my feet on the top ladder step, and at least one of my hands firmly gripping a vertical grab bar. As the train changed speeds and jostled about, I alternated between fascination with the experience and wondering what it might be like to bounce off one of those power poles that were constantly WHOOSHing by.

Handhold for Security

You had to wait your turn for a position at a doorway because those were a favorite way to pass time for many. One of the doorways was never available to me at all because it was inhabited by a poor elderly couple who sat or lay there for the entire time. There was a scream at one point. We all looked over to find that the old man of the couple had been scared by almost falling out. He must have let go of the bar, which I had noticed he held by the hand with a beautiful golden ring.

Jes says 20% of annual global gold production makes its way to India and then “disappears” into the stashes of Indians from all social levels. He says Indians won’t sell their gold and that even all those homeless people out there have stashes of it. This is super interesting to me.

It's Good to Go

The train stopped for some unknown reason, and a few of us passengers climbed down to wait on the rail bed beside it. I had been in need of (but avoiding) the onboard facilities for a while anyway, so I decided to take advantage of the situation. Looking up to Chris at his open-air window seat I exclaimed, “hold the train for me”, in perfect confidence that he could deliver on his new assignment.

One of my new friends who had also ventured out onto the tracks with me raised his voice in concern and asked, “where are you going?” I exclaimed back with a note of adventure, “I’m going pee!” and began making my way down to the little bushes below. Halfway through my task, I heard two sharp whistle blows and frantically began running back as I recomposed myself in the process.

The train started to creep forward when I had only made it half way up the embankment. I knew I’d make the ladder to an open doorway as long as I didn’t trip in my flip-flop sandals on the rocky surface. Passengers along the entire train line were yelling encouragement and laughing (mainly laughing). I made it, and as I stood relieved and heart beating among my fellow travelers, one of my new Muslim friends smiled and pointed to my zipper. I looked down. After realizing I hadn’t done such a great job recomposing myself replied with a smile, “oh yeah, thanks! (zip)”.

Poorest of the Poor

There was a shirtless, shoeless boy who wore man-sized pants, which were fixed to him by a rope belt and extended in a tattered condition past the ends of his feet. He was as dirty as a farm animal and as skinny and bony as an old starved horse. The first time I saw him, he was crawling along the isle and sweeping up peanut shells. He must have made it to one end of the long line of train cars and been in the process of making a round trip to the other end. The second time I saw him was 4 hours later.

He was going in the opposite direction in a process that went like this: Hands and knees crawl forward to next row of passengers. Sit up on knees. Tap passenger and look at them. Murmur, touch hand to mouth, put hand out into the open position in front of passenger. Wait 2 seconds with hand out. Give up. Repeat process over and over and over again. I was standing near a doorway when he came by the second time. I knew it was coming. He tapped me on the leg to get my attention. I looked down and shook my head, “no”. So he robotically proceeded to the next person. I feel like such a louse for that.

If you come to India, get a whole bag full of Rupee coins and give them out to beggars. You’ll feel like you’re making a difference. Maybe you will.

Cattle Class (3rd Class)

Some of the younger Muslim men (boys really) approached me early in the trip asking, “what country are you from?” Indians always ask that question here. They asked me all sorts of questions, but to be frank I had a wall up and was short in my responses. I escaped them by transitioning to the seated position at another doorway to fixate on the scenery rushing by.

The trip was long, and I got tired of standing and hanging onto the side of the train. I returned to see my travel mates still securely nested in Section D5 and get some water. Along the way, I came upon two of the Muslim boys. They must have been about ages 14 and 20, and they were looking up at me with big smiles. The began patting the open seat next to them with their hands.

He's the one in the far back, middle.

So I sat down with them and a half dozen other Muslim boys and men by extension. The entire group was together. The rest pretended not to listen but did. I had finally let my guard down and just started talking and joking in a real, generous, and kind way.

Our interactions went something like this: I asked, “who is better looking, Muslim women or Hindu women?” “Oh Muslim women!”, they exclaimed. “Well I can’t see them to know this because they have those burkas on. Why do Muslim women wear burkas?”, I asked. “Because they are GOLD to us!”, came an emphatic reply with hands outreached and opened wide. The youngest boy asked, “what do women dress like in your country?” Without saying a word, I pulled my black V-neck teeshirt down at the bottom of the V to reveal half my chest. They broke out into uncontrollable laughter. “Do you have a one dollar bill?”, asked the older boy. I did not, but I had a five US dollar bill and pulled it out for show. I pointed to the words, “In God We Trust” and the arrows and symbol of peace in the eagle’s talons. We talked about Lincoln, and they passed the bill around for inspection. It went on and on and on like this. The experience and interactions were truly magical for me.

Manual Rickshaw with Krishna

We reached Bapatla in the dark. I shook the Muslim boy’s hands, very much saddened to leave them. I then proceeded out onto the platform where we were greeted by Jes and his brother Krishna. As the train started forward again, I quickly reached for my wallet and pulled out the five dollar bill. I searched the open windows, found the Muslim boys, handed the younger one the note, and quickly withdrew before he realized what I had done. He shook his head back and forth frantically and said with the greatest determination, “no, no, no”. I just pointed back as the train rolled away and exclaimed, “it’s your now! It’s yours!”

If you come to India, get a whole stack of one dollar bills from your country and give them to new friends as a memento of your shared time.

Train Station in Chennai

Another view from The Pinakini Express

Wedding in India

Day 5: Pinakini Express

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