Indian Time: A Lesson in Irony

After four days of waiting, the skies finally cleared revealing the beautiful Himalayan range. Micah and I got up at 5:30 and were our the door by 6 to go to the look off point. What we saw when we got there was a sight worthy of a postcard. Mt. Kanchenjunga and its mammoth neighbours appeared bright white across the horizon against a blue morning sky. There were a low tufts of cloud, but none of these managed to spoil the view for the time we were there.

Back at the hotel, a streak of bad luck began. I had misplaced my key earlier and delayed checking out to see the mountains. I had to find it before I could leave. I searched frantically with the bellboy who eventually found it wedged between the two single mattresses that made up the bed.

I knew I was cutting it close, so I ran down to the private bus and jeep stand to try and make it to the station on time. I had a choice between a bus or a share jeep which I was told would both leave at 8:10. I chose the share jeep for the extra comfort, but this may have been a miscalculation because it took the company longer than expected to sell all the seats. We ended up leaving 20 minutes late.

The ride was supposed to take exactly four hours, and that was exactly how long I had. We stopped for 20 minutes to eat, which seemed unnecessary for such a short trip. Once in Siliguri, I grabbed the nearest autorickshaw and promised the driver a higher fare if he could get me there fast. I had 15 minutes to get to a train station 20 minutes away.

Up to this point, all of my trains in India had been late; so, when I arrived 2 minutes after my train’s departure time to see it pulling out of the station, I felt like I had been more than unlucky.

Exhausted and in shock, I climbed the stairs to the pedestrian overpass and walked back to the station entrance. The ticket window ques were huge and it took over an hour to get to the front. The whole time I was worried about not getting a new ticket back to Delhi and missing my flight to Korea. I had read that these long distance trains book up months in advance.

Halfway through the line, I started a conversation with the man standing behind me. He was an Officer in the India Army whose job it was to load and unload military shipments to the region. He handed me some forms I had to fill out before I reached the window and assured me that I had nothing to worry. I turned out that he knew all of the station staff very well.

I was lucky that there was one space available on a train scheduled to leave in three hours. I had a ticket in first class in the train I missed; this ticket gave me a berth in the lowest class that still has reservations. Any lower and I would be fighting for a seat. I had been demoted from traveling like James Bond to travelling like Indiana Jones but I wasn’t complaining. I thanked my friend and went to an internet place to try to e-mail Kate about my delay and to reconfirm my flight.