Trains

Like a great behemoth they pull into the station. When I first saw the engines, it felt like they belonged in a time far removed from my own. Pulling about 20 passanger cars, this is the most convenient means of travel within this country. But man, life on a train...
The crowds, people with luggage, the constant calls for, "Chai." I can hardly believe the smells on some of the tracks. Piles of crap that gather when passangers decide to cut loose at the stations. (not supposed to do that) The fat rats that crawl around.
Beggars that climb aboard and go up and down the cars, hoping for a handout. They always think foreiners will be more giving. The boys with brooms or rags, that will sweep the floor by your feet. Then they stick out their hands, expecting payment for a service you really didn't want. The blind men that come aboard. Usually singing and chiming off a tune with their metal staffs. And I can never forget the old man with a can around his neck, because he didn't have any hands to beg with.
Only on the trains, do I ever feel safe seeing military guys, armed with rifles. They walk up and down the cars at night, watchful for any trouble. Many people lock their bags with chains to the trainseats. Not having that luxary I remain vigilant during most of the night. Only when I see them patrolling at 2am do I allow myself rest.
And none will forget the noise. The constant shaking and 'clacking' of the tracks. The low tembre of an approching train's whistle, gradually growing into a torrent as it races by. And at every stop, the vendors that jump aboard, calling out their wares in a tounge I do not understand. One can hardly sleep with so many sounds bombarding the senses.
But one can not give it any faults. It is the best way to move around in this country. One can see it all by simply looking out the windows, while the ever changing landscapes rolls by.

Paul