A.B. Away: Hampi Express

(John) Previous blogs have talked about how easy it has been to travel in India. There was nothing easy about getting on the night train from Bengaluru to Hospet (Hampi). We started our quest to get on the Hampi Express in Mysore. After a 5 hour bumpy bus ride from Ooty that became progressively hotter as we came down out of the Western Ghats, we used a rickshaw driver come aspiring tour guide/commission hunter to find a hotel room, dumped our luggage and headed to the train station. We found the reservations office busy and full of men waiting for their number to be called. A French woman told us we could send the women to a special women only window that had no line up. We discovered that the train was fully booked, the tourist quota taken and if we wanted we could go on the wait list in spots 45 – 48 leaving the next day. Or, we could buy the one open seat available for the following day and have the other three on the wait list. After some lengthy discussion about our options that included taking the night bus instead. We went back to the reservations counter and booked the latter train option, thinking that we would be much further up the wait list. When that was done we discovered that we were still in the mid 40`s on the list. This meant one of us had a bunk on the train and three of us might. We perused the board detailing cancellation reimbursement and found that if we did cancel then and there we would lose 250 IR. If we cancelled 4 hours prior to departure we would lose about 300 IR. We decided to take our chances with the tickets we had booked. Understanding that we would not know until 10 hours before departure if we were on the train or not, and would have to be in Bengaluru (3 hours away) to find out, we planned a departure from Mysore that would get us there at least 5 hours before the night train to Hampi left. Then we went about the business of visiting Mysore.

We were in no rush to leave the hotel the morning of our departure. Our train to Bengaluru left at 12.10pm. We got to the station 45 minutes early and tried to get sleeper class to Bengaluru. They were sold out, so we settled for 2^nd class, the cheapest option. The cost was about 125 IR or 3 bucks for 4 people to take a train for 3 hours. On the platform there was a train waiting and the digital sign indicated that it was our train, but we asked a few people and were assured that it was not. I decided to wait at the end of the platform that indicated where the 2^nd class carriages would stop so that we could rush on and grab a seat. We waited on the platform for well over an hour for our train to pull in. When it did it stopped three carriage lengths short of where we and a few hundred other people were standing. Inevitably we were among the last to climb aboard. Lesley and Mhari squeezed onto a bench-seat, and Sam and I jumped into the luggage rack over their heads. It would have been great for about 20-30 minutes but this train didn’t leave the station for another hour and we were up there for about 4 hours. However on some level that I don’t yet know how to explain, I had a good time.

Bengaluru station was huge and absolutely teeming with people. We went to the reservations office to check the status of our wait listed ticket to find it closed at 2pm on Sundays, so we looked elsewhere and found a very busy enquiry widow that was handling the wait list issue. Lesley muscled in there and was told to come back in a couple of hours. We deposited our backpacks in the left luggage room and hopped in a rickshaw to see a bit of Bengaluru. 'A bit' about sums it up. The place is huge, a city of 6 million people and counting. We went to a neighbourhood near the railway station described as the 'old part' in our guide book. There we ate a late lunch and wandered around the jammed streets, checking out the stores. Lesley decided to buy a couple of Sari’s, that were a tenth of the price of some she had seen in Mysore. Then we hopped back in a Rickshaw and went back to the railway station to continue our quest to get on the Hampi Express. We went back to the same counter we had been to earlier and were told that we had all got on the train. Now all we had to do was wait. We stared at an electronic screen until it told us what platform to go to. As Lesley explained in her latest blog entry, getting a seat did not quite mean that we all had a bunk for the night, but in the end that is what happened.

I can’t say I was having a good time as Sam and I attempted to both lie down on a hard bed that was 6 inches shorter than me and no more than 24 inches wide. I decided to sit up and let Sam get comfortable so at least one of us got some sleep. The train had left on time at 9pm and at about 11pm the conductor came through and beckoned for me to follow him. He led me to the far end of the carriage and pointed to an empty bed. I could have kissed him. I had taken pains to lock and chain our bags under the bunk Sam and I were sharing so wanting to stay with them I told Sam to go and sleep on the new bunk and I got to lie flat on my back. Sam definitely got the better deal. His bunk had no bright lights nearby, it was not close to the toilet and he wasn’t sleeping adjacent to a man who loved to talk very loudly, had two constantly bonging cell phones that he seemed to be using to text himself with, and when he fell asleep would moan loudly then start choking out the contents of his lungs. I suppose I should have been more sympathetic. Guess I need more time at the Ashram. But again and for reasons I still cannot explain I was having a really good time. I kept drifting off to sleep to be woken up by either my neighbour, or the smell of the toilet, or the sound of the train whistle, or of another train passing, or on one memorable occasion, a loud recorded announcement at a station that made no sense in Hindi or the Karnataka language Kanada but when repeated three times in English I understood that those on the platform were being told not to approach the windows of the train as there are people sleeping by them. Every time I woke I would smile and think - wow I’m sleeping on a train in India. My final wake up call was the Chai guy at 5am who obviously did not want anyone to be sleeping.

I felt pretty safe in my spot in the light by the toilet. There was a family next to me, a man and his wife with his mother and father (the cell phone guy), and the next group were mostly Tibetan monks. Many people on the train seemed to sleep soundly all night. I know that Mhari did. I think I slept for about 2 hours but could have been seen with a grin on my face at any time.

Here are some pictures from our time in Ooty