Flush From Embarrassment

First appeared in The Globe and Mail (http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/LAC.20081018.TRIP18/TPStory/?query=rita+parikh)

It didn’t come crashing to a shrieking halt.  Bags didn’t fly missile-like from overhead racks.  And people didn’t tumble helter skelter into the aisles. 

Instead, all was calm as the train rolled gently to a standstill.  This is what happens when you pull the emergency stop?

 

We were two weeks into our journey across western India, heading north from ancient Udaipur, chug-chugging through the colourful state of Rajasthan.   

 

And we were relaxed – after our white-knuckle drives on India’s treacherously narrow highways (where the still smoking wreckage of transport trucks seemed part of the natural landscape); after harrowing auto-rickshaw adventures through spice markets and back alleys; and after agonizingly long journeys on busses exploding with Bollywood music, spending a night on a train felt like a walk in the park. 

 

Rail travel in India is a fantastic way to see the country.  More than 63,000 kilometers of track crisscross India’s 29 states, reaching languorously to the white sands of socialist Kerala in the south, bustling through vibrant metropolises like Mumbai and Calcutta, and careening north to far-flung villages of tea-terraced Darjeeling and beyond.  More than 13 million passengers ride the rails each day, a staggering figure by any measure.

 

And they do so in relative ease and comfort.  You can travel first, second or third class, have standing room only, or opt for an air-conditioned sleeper, complete with freshly-laundered sheets.  You can travel in the privacy of your own spacious cabin, or, if you’re a woman travelling solo, hop on a female-only car.  Best of all, you can open your windows to the scents of sea, spice and diesel, and to the calls of touts and hawkers peddling chai and spicy samosas.

 

Much as I was enjoying this heady awakening of my senses, it was to the rumblings of my tummy that my attention was turned.  With some trepidation I headed off to the washroom – what would a toilet used by hundreds of millions of people look like?   But with Indian Railways positioned as the world’s largest state employer, I had little to fear – somebody, clearly, was assigned to cleaning the toilets.

 

I glanced at the sign posted on the wall behind the toilet.  Flush before and after use, its bold, black letters advised.  In front of the sign dangled a bright, red, chain. 

 

I shrugged and pulled hard, staring down at the toilet. 

 

Silence.

 

It was then that I noticed the foot pedal on the floor.  And in a flash, the adrenaline began to course through me. 

 

With a gentle sigh, the train started to slow and I made my way quickly back to my seat.

 

“It’s stopping,” I whispered anxiously, to my unconcerned partner.

 

“Uh huh,” he said, not looking up from his book.

 

“You don’t understand,” I said agonized.  “I did it; I pulled the emergency stop!”  I could hear the panic in my voice as he stared at me in amazement. 

 

We glanced at the sign posted across from our seat:  “To stop train, pull chain,” it read.  “Penalty for use without reasonable and sufficient cause, fine up to Rs. 1000 and/or imprisonment up to one year.”

 

I imagined police, angry passengers, a year behind bars.  I could pay the 1000 Rupee (or $20) fine instead, I calculated.  But would I get to choose?

 

And then, in a small voice, the child within me spoke.  “Do you think they’ll know it was me?”

 

Within a minute I heard shouts and saw men gathering around our rail car.  We poked our heads out the window and followed the fingers pointing upwards.  Busted.  A small red flag flew accusingly from an opening in our roof.   

 

“It was me, ” I yelled, anguished.  “It was an accident!”

 

And then I watched in horror as word of an “accident” spread like wildfire through the car.   

 

“No, no.  It was me!” I said, struggling to get the story back on track.  “I thought I was flushing the toilet!” 

 

More shouts, more head shakings, more quizzical expressions.  Finally, a passenger beside me leans out the window, translating. 

 

Silence.  Disbelief.  And then, miraculously, laughter.  Giggles and chortles and outright guffaws.   Rail travel in India is nothing, if not entertaining. 

 

I can’t remember if I ever made it to the washroom on that trip.  But with no fines, no jail term, no public lynching of any sort, the voyage by train was a relief nonetheless.

 

 

If you go:  On-line reservations are accepted for most routes.  Visit Indian Railways at:  www.indianrailways.gov.in.  Indian Railways also offers several packaged tourist escapes.  These can be viewed at the same site, or by visiting:  http://www.railtourismindia.com/.

 

  

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~ by Rita Parikh on October 18, 2008.