End of the Line

A tiny mouse darted from the shadows underneath my bunk to the safety of the other side of the carriage. Another one followed. Then another. I pulled my legs up to my chest as the train lurched around a bend. I hit my head on the side of the bunk and swore. I silently seethed, rubbing the lump quickly forming on my head, as I watched my boyfriend softly snoring in his bunk across from me. How did I end up here? I was supposed to be on a romantic love trip. My boyfriend and I were going to set off into the vibrantly coloured Indian sunset, possibly on the back of an elephant, whilst staring adoringly into each other’s eyes. I had crafted this image from hours poring over my guidebooks and extended daydreaming. But my perfect adventure, and my relationship, was quickly unravelling.

Our train to Udaipur had left in the middle of the night, but now I could see the grey light of dawn begin to appear. The train pulled up to a station and I shoved a few rupees through the open window to buy a sweet steaming cup of chai. Beyond a collection of travel writing clichés, India is many things. It puts you through your paces as a traveller, and as a person. It pushes you to the edge of very high cliff and then demands you admire the view from the top. The train began to pull out from the station and the last kids selling chips and soft drink skipped out as the doors began to close. The tracks slowly rolled out from under us. I stuck my hand out the wind to feel the balmy air as we sped past people emerging from the morning fog to begin their days. We arrived in Udaipur tired and dusty.

Later that evening, I leant over edge of the rooftop balcony of my guesthouse and looked down at Lake Pichola. The lake shimmered and glistened in the soft light, perfectly smooth except for the criss-crossed lines the tourist boats left in their wake. I watched the boats speed around the surface like water beetles, circling the City Palace floating in the middle of the lake like a pearly white lily. It was very romantic, or it would have been, if I wasn’t blinking back tears whilst my boyfriend angrily stomped around the streets below. It all seemed calm from up here. But, I knew that down there, ducking between sleeping dogs and men pushing carts piled with peanuts, sidestepping children coming home from school and dodging motorbikes, was the last remnants of a fantasy that no longer existed.