Scenes from a railway carriage
MITA KAPUR
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Amber and Josh talk about their trip from Cardiff to Jaipur — all the way by train.
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Wanderlust: Amber and Josh in Jaipur.
THE hoards come flocking the streets, backpacks morph into Hawa Mahal jholas, tees into mirror-work jackets and block-print harem pants. The exodus will move to romance the moonlight at Taj Mahal, coming as they are from the ramparts of Red Fort. India shocks them in more ways than one: the heat, the crowds, the rickshaws, touts, the traffic.
But not all those who wander are lost. The lust to wander is a questioning, wondering about the blur of passing temples, towers and turrets. Travel is flight and pursuit in equal parts. It's like flirting with life, saying, "I would stay and love you but I have to go, this is my station."
I think Amber and Josh did just that. From Cardiff (U.K.) to Jaipur by train, they belong to the school that believes "if God really intended men to fly, he'd make it easier to get to the airport".
A simple beginning
Amber read an article on eco-friendly travelling in the Independent. Car and airplane fumes exhaust the freshness of air; trains are the medium to use. With six months of planning, in between work and studying for a Fine Arts course, Amber lived the journey much before it started.
On Eurostar from London to Paris, to Strasbourg and Vienna, then to Budapest. Spending a few days in Budapest, the longer bouts in trains began on the leg to Istanbul. Crossing Romania and Bulgaria, it took 132 hours on the wheels to cover 2,968 km to reach Tehran, excluding the 90 km length of Lake Van, which took five hours to cross on ferry. The Trans-Asia Express leaves once a week. It's actually two connecting trains, a Turkish one from Istanbul to Tatvan pier, a ferry across Lake Van, an Iranian train from Van pier to Tehran. The couple spent 10 days in Iran, travelling from Esfahan to Yazd and then to Zahedan, the last big city near the Taftan border, braving five police checks. They had to take a taxi to cross the border to reach Quetta, because the train leaves only once a month.
"For a visa for Iran, Amber had to be photographed in a head scarf. Dress codes are still very strict. A kameez, trousers and a headscarf are a must." But Iran was unbelievably welcoming. We were told `not to go to Iran' because our countries are not friendly. We arrived with no money. An Iranian befriended us, took us home to his family and told us, `my home is yours whenever you are here'. People took us under their wing with a selflessness, not expecting anything in return. Once we almost got arrested there. We didn't know it was illegal to play cards in Iran," said Josh.
The landscape through Turkey and Iran is imposing. Jagged snow capped mountains, sun beating gold and silver on the snow, pink sunsets, quaint small towns and villages, they saw slices of life. "I didn't use my Mp3 player even once. I stuck my head out of the window to take it all in. We talked a lot. At home, we lead a regulated life, Josh has irregular hours and there are days we don't see each other. We `co-counselled' by talking non-stop, just saying whatever comes to the mind in the moment." She looked at me with her piercing hazelnut (amber) eyes, "it's amazing, the stuff that comes out when you talk like that."
In Pakistan
The smell of the air changed when they crossed borders from Afghanistan to Pakistan, an overnight rain got them to Lahore, "it was good to see rickshaws," Josh grinned. "A 20-minute rickshaw ride to the border took us two hours, and the rickshaw puller apologetically returned the money for the ride. An 18-seater mini-bus crammed with 70 people was entertaining. The armed guards at the border looked fierce but were friendly. The custom officers fed us lunch and gave us a hug." From Iran to Pakistan, the landscape was quite barren and desolate, the sun brighter and hotter.
No Man's land was strangely peaceful. The guards seemed incongruous with the terrain. A one km walk opens out into a burst of colour on the Indian side. "Porters and popcorn, you walk into the Indian chaos. The changing of the guards at the border is a theatrical ceremony with no theatrical music — just 40 Indians dancing, thousands of people watching, clapping and waving — strange but fun," Amber said, her tone conveying her wonder at the spirit of the people. The same spirit drew her to India.
India beckons
They stayed at the Golden Temple in Amritsar. "We walked around the temple but didn't go inside. We felt it wasn't the right thing to do. We saw what it meant to so many people, felt the emotions running through, the holiness, the faith, we were happy just being there. The whole crowd was intrigued by us, watching Josh sketch a man lying by a flower bed; we would sketch each other too," Amber laughed.
The train from Amritsar to Jaipur took 20 hours. Brightly clad women crossing green fields, children playing, the hustle and bustle of small towns had the couple mesmerised. Amber aimed at seeing Amer Fort in Jaipur, the first thing. "Everything here fascinates me." On her second visit to India, "I came here via Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, Malaysia and Thailand. For those six weeks, I was sick, hot and bothered, trying to get used to the `too many people'. It's a bit difficult here, every day is a challenge, it's hard to make your way here. I had to come back."
"We've put all our money into this trip, we'll go back home poor but richer otherwise." Amber's mother was a Tibetan Buddhist; the connections are intense. "Indian people handle so much with such equanimity; nothing seems to faze them. In seconds a street fight breaks, a crowd that seems to have no other task to finish, endures as actively as the opponents, and in milliseconds, the grappling action thins itself into nothingness, a calmness returns to the chaotic pace, all is normal again, as if it never happened."
I laughed at their observations, nodding wisely, while Govinda gyrated inside my head, "it happens only in India".
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