Mirzapur

Hello there,

After three days in our luxury oasis hotel in Jodhpur we managed to book a ticket only partway to Mirzapur as we were doing it on short notice. We booked as far as Kanpur, known as the most polluted city in Asia. Booking tickets in India is always a challenge and time consumming and furthermore the service people are not at all helpful and grumpy, perhaps in response to the pushy people waiting in the line. To make it worse we had to use the tourist/senior/ladies booth, the old men in one line, the women in another, often pushing and yelling at each other as to who's next to get to the one service person at that booth. Mission accomplished.

In the interesting old market in Jodhpur I spotted an Indian with a very fancy camera photographing me. I went up and said, "This is a switch. Usually it's the tourists photographing the Indians, and here is an Indian photographing the tourists! What's your story?" It turned out that he was a reporter from a Hindi Jodhpur newspaper. We had a chat and I told him we'd come through from Pakistan on the Thar Express and that I'd been there taking part in events to mark the International Day of the Disabled Person. I asked him what sort of disabled rights movement there was in Jodhpur that he was aware of and I talked about ramps and barrier free access. The market was paved with very bumpy stones. Well, the next day the waiter in the hotel said my photo was in the paper. Under it was a small story about me and how there should be a paved path in the market. His spin. Fun.

Leaving Jodhpur was uneventful and the train left only one hour late. I had eaten some train food that didn't agree with me so was sick in the night and semi-slept in a twilight zone. Ross always manages to sleep, anywhere anytime. After 20 hours we arrived in Kanpur at about 5:00 am. Then more confusing information and ticket buying, trying to find toilet facilities, the lady announcer endlessly going on and on "For your kind attention, please..." and then listing different train numbers and platforms. People in mounds sleeping under blankets on the platform. We booked a ticket to Mirzapur and finally got on the train, "Yes, this train is going to Mirzapur". We settled in and began the journey and somewhere along the way one of our passengers said, "This train doesn't stop at Mirzapur, goes by it." Ross walked the length of the train looking for a conducter who would tell him and he found two that said yes, it didn't stop there. So off we got at Allahabad to find the train that would take us the short distance to Mirzapur. Getting off at 11:30 we were told there is a train at 1:30, then it was going at 2:30 at this platform, no, at that platform. A young fellow said he was going to Mirzapur, goes all the time, so we stuck with him for a while all the while listening to the incessant announcer for our train. At times I felt that I was in train station hell and would be there forever. Finally Ross thought he heard our train called and it was at a different platform. Off we rushed and asked several people if this train was going to Mirzapur. They all assured us it was. The bogie (rail car) right in front of us was labelled Handicapped use only and had a big wheelchair sign painted on it. I had seen several of these off in the distance at other stations and wondered about them. It was perfect. Wide aisles, an accessible CLEAN toilet with a sink and mirror that I could see into. I went from railway hell to railway heaven in an instant. I washed, changed my clothes, brushed my teeth and became a new person. We shared our car with a slightly drunk railway worker (A digger), he showed us his pay stub and a fellow who lived in Mirzapur who worked for the bus company. We finally left at 5:00. The one hour trip became 3 hours as people constantly were pulling the stop chain to get off at their villages and each time we stopped for at least 15 or 20 minutes. We had managed to borrow a cell phone and leave a message for Nuncu that we would be late, never knowing just how late. We arrived at 8:00 pm. The Mirzapur railway station that brought forth such a rush of nostalgia and tears at my first homecoming to India was now just another railway station that I was very anxious to see the back of.

Coming back to Raipuri was bliss, all our old friend so welcoming. It's a different way of life here, much like it was in the days of the Raj with servants to do every little thing. For the next two days we will be at Edward's in a very old bungalow next door to my old bungalow. Geoffrey, Kusum, Moti, Kusum's sister and we are visiting Edward's sister, Sally. Edward is away until tomorrow.
All for now.
Judy & Ross