One of the main events on our Indian holiday was to ride the great Indian railway. A childhood memory, dating back over 41 years gave me my first taste of India and all it had to offer. From a child’s eye, these majestic stream trains stood over a 100ft tall and would snarl and screeched when pulling to the station as if a fire breathing dragon waiting to devour all on the platform . Well at least that how it seemed to a 7 year old in the flush of a child’s imagination. These were the stories that I would recount to Vicky and in many ways even though I knew the golden age of steam had sadly passed by , I still wanted to share my joy of travelling on one of the world’s largest railway with my nearest and dearest, Vicky.
In total we had a six hour journey ahead of us, and therefore an early start was to be had. This meant missing breakfast, which had we been in the UK would had been fine. After all my lovely wife, has a plethora Costa coffee pit stops only too willing to accommodate her early morning coffee fix of a large Americano, or a regular skinny latte. And to compliment the rush of caffeine, Vicky always knows how to make a bee line to the first establishment serving a full-English. Yet we’re not in the UK - “Vicky We are not in the UK” - but an exotic land alive with thousand flower flushed gardens that meet the banks of a million life giving lakes.
Sounds pretty good, well you would think. Getting on the train was easy peasy, with a payment of 200 Rupess (£2.50p) for two porters to carry our heavy suitcases, (I know they were heavy, the airline had kindly stuck a dirty big orange sticker on them just in case we happen to forget).
So far so good. Basically in terms of the Indian traveller we have it all “down Pat”. Reserved seats , air conditioned carriages , and what’s more, we would be catered to our every whim with a regular, serving of Chia, Coffee and the best there is to offer from the on board catering team.
This was the point however, I had come to realise that there was about to be trouble in my paradise. First arrives the tea, the rhythmic uttering of “Chia, ChChCh Chia gave us the head up so with rupees ready I purchase both two cups of chai for a total of 50 rupees (40 pence) . By now, both I and Vicky were more than ready to munch down on some good old stomach pleasing. I guess however, while I was licking my lip for Parath’s , Vicky was dreaming of two slices of bacon, a fried egg sunny side up, grilled tomatoes, two sausages and a generous portion of baked beans with of course the obligatory slice of brown bread toast.
All I know is that when the next man came saying samba, samba, breakfast, breakfast please ( he could see we were tourists) Vicky with a swift elbow in my ribs and a subtle nod of the heads, had me buying two portions of breakfast. That’s one for me and one for Vicky. It wasn’t until she opened the foil take away container:
I heard “Errr what’s that” said Vicky
I replied: “Its Parath’s with samba, India’s staple breakfast”.
It was then that I had an epiphany, a eureka moment, a realisation that during our 25 years of happy, joyous and blissful marriage; all the stories I had told Vicky, I had somehow forgotten to explain what to expect from the catering on an Indian train.
However, all credit where credit is due, Vicky did taste smallest piece of Parath’s and dip it into the the samba which is a yellow curry like substance. Good on you Sweetie I thought good on you. Then Vicky tells me as only Vicky can.
“Errr, I not eating this; it’s horrible and greasy”
Hey waste not, want not. After all, what would any self-respecting Indian do when faced with two portions of mouth-watering Samba and Parath’s in front of him, he eats it, even if he happens to be born in the UK. However, far from the delight of Vicky and to her amazement I get stuck in as I never have got stuck in before; Hands an all. Vick on seeing what must have appeared as strange behaviour without reservation to the fact that we were sitting in a packed carriage asks.
“Oh my god! Have you gone all native” .
I don’t think there’s anything I can say to top that.
Check back for the next post to find out what happen when you get of a stop that is 120 km from where you want to be
