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| On the Kangra Valley rattler |
“Yes, all our rooms are empty,” said the man on reception at the Himachal Pradesh Forestry Dept guesthouse.
“Then can we have two rooms for tonight?” asked our friend Sachin.
Head waggle from reception man followed by, “No, we are not allowed to take guests - not during the election campaign.”
We retreated in the face of such government weirdness and spent the night in Mr and Mrs Puran’s homestay in their family compound in the neat little village of Nagrota Suriyan 2 km from Maharan Pratap Sagar (see previous post).
The next morning we set off to catch the Kangra Valley narrow gauge train that runs from Pathankot to Joginder Nagar. Having been let down by the government over accommodation, I wondered whether trains would also be cancelled for political purposes.
We bought our 20 rupee tickets - Simon tried to get us 5 rupee pensioner discounts but we didn’t qualify because we weren’t Indian residents and settled down to wait.
The eastbound train arrived bang on time (40 minutes late actually but that’s pretty good for this line) with people hanging out of the doors and clinging to the sides of the carriages. The train wasn’t full so they must have been travelling in that perilous manner for fun.
We bustled on board and I found a seat while Simon and Sachin hung around in the doorway (inside the carriage though) and chatted to other travellers.
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| Fellow travellers were happy to acknowledge the only foreigners on their train |
The Kangra Valley rattler is not a Palace-on-Wheels, nor is it a tourist trap quaint toy train. The other passengers were exclusively families traveling to see relatives or local business men. People ate little lunches packed in leaves, or crackling packets of snacks. We all sprang off the train at several stations to grab little paper cups of chai.
People chatted and napped. When the train stopped at country stations, cows wandered up to the windows to be fed chapattis and roti.
The carriages are basic but comfortable. The glass windows were all open on this warm hazy day, and the metal louvred shutters were pushed right up to make the most of the breeze and the view.
For the first two hours the train swung through scenic valleys and over river gorges. Somewhere behind the haze were views of the Himalayas.
The next two hours we went through little towns, even a pilgrimage town, where brightly coloured pilgrims in red and gold and carrying tridents poured on and off the train.
At one point the train went through a long long long unlit tunnel, and without hesitation, everyone on the train hooted and whistled like joyful children until the train came out into the light. Then we all resumed our polite, quiet demeanour as the train rattled on towards our destination, where the Maruti taxi was waiting to take us home to McLeod Ganj.
Sonny confessed he had arrived only just in time to meet us because he had been stuck in the gridlock of a political rally that had blocked the entire road for hours. A great day out, bracketed by political obstructions. Thank heavens for the rattler.
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