India may be way ahead of the world in digital tech, number of billionaires, meme-making, and Sebi guidelines. But there's one delightful area where we haven't moved ahead from pre-liberalisation days: long-distance, overnight train travel, not Vande Bharat, that short-distance media darling. Those long-distancers still have the whims and fancies of decaying mad socialism.
I don't mean Indira-Rajiv- era look and feel, with the thick dirt windows, toilets that are best unmentioned, and the food vendor, who apart from his Gpay, could far more easily be in a Doordarshan serial. It still takes 21 hrs - yes, twenty-one hours - on the fastest train from Mumbai to Bangalore.
These are two of India's most dynamic cities. Cities that allow one to buy and sell global stocks in 3 seconds and guide a thing onto the moon. And yet its train connectivity takes about the same time as a British viceroy would have taken to travel by horseback in 1872. It takes less from Bangalore to San Francisco. Which could explain why more Bangaloreans live there.
Nobody sane would choose to travel by train between these two cities, except for foolish comedians, the truly eccentric, the vagabond with disposable income, people fleeing the law, people afraid of flying. Someday, I hope to meet a combination of all of these folks in one person who would, perhaps, be the Udyan Express gold customer (yes, the train name).
There could, of course, be an argument for a 10-hr high speed train, given it takes about 15 hrs by road, between these two metro business hubs. Which would be something that any reasonable government would consider. But reason would also lead one to consider driveable roads, breathable air, parks, convenience. And once you open that door, there's only danger. So, why let common sense get in the way of a 21-hr journey that feels like a motorised palanquin.
There's also the question of who is going to build this high-speed rail across states with Herculean bureaucracies, state fiefdoms, corruption. And for what? A thankless citizenry that spits, throws unfinished egg curry dinners straight into the Western Ghats, and steals nice fittings.
On my journey, one sweet tea vendor was chasing a loose chicken through first class shouting, 'Mera nahi hain!' Which led the TT to ask, 'Kiska hain?' To which the vendor, unafraid, replied, that that's the TT's job to find out, not his. This doesn't seem the best route to catch up with China's high-speed train infrastructure.
I've done this journey more than once. Yes, I enjoy sadism. And just on my last 21-hr sojourn, I met a range of characters. First, my compartment companions, a Russian lady and her family, who were carrying four water-purifiers, and tried to sell me one. If I drank the cleansed water, it would apparently eradicate diabetes and heart disease.
They got off in Pune, and a priest got on for the next leg of the journey. He tried to convert me to his sect, which would involve walking barefoot out of the train, and shaving my head. Then came an LIC agent who helps families of the dead. He spent the night trying to coax me into explaining my post-death financial planning, and why it didn't involve LIC.
As we got closer to Bangalore, a family left an infant with me and went snack-shopping. They took so long to get back that I thought I was now a foster parent. The last leg had a voice-over artist who demonstrated the entire range of his vocal chords - from Hollywood villain accents to popular ads - and then asked me what I thought. I told him he was great, but that he should drink more purified water.
So, while India races ahead into the 21st c., long train rides are firmly still locked in the 19th c., where long conversations about nothing, and sharing of food, can make the interminable tolerable, where anyone can get on and off anywhere. The trains haven't changed since 1871. India's long-distance trains aren't a journey. It's all of life in 21 hrs.
I don't mean Indira-Rajiv- era look and feel, with the thick dirt windows, toilets that are best unmentioned, and the food vendor, who apart from his Gpay, could far more easily be in a Doordarshan serial. It still takes 21 hrs - yes, twenty-one hours - on the fastest train from Mumbai to Bangalore.
These are two of India's most dynamic cities. Cities that allow one to buy and sell global stocks in 3 seconds and guide a thing onto the moon. And yet its train connectivity takes about the same time as a British viceroy would have taken to travel by horseback in 1872. It takes less from Bangalore to San Francisco. Which could explain why more Bangaloreans live there.
Nobody sane would choose to travel by train between these two cities, except for foolish comedians, the truly eccentric, the vagabond with disposable income, people fleeing the law, people afraid of flying. Someday, I hope to meet a combination of all of these folks in one person who would, perhaps, be the Udyan Express gold customer (yes, the train name).
There could, of course, be an argument for a 10-hr high speed train, given it takes about 15 hrs by road, between these two metro business hubs. Which would be something that any reasonable government would consider. But reason would also lead one to consider driveable roads, breathable air, parks, convenience. And once you open that door, there's only danger. So, why let common sense get in the way of a 21-hr journey that feels like a motorised palanquin.
There's also the question of who is going to build this high-speed rail across states with Herculean bureaucracies, state fiefdoms, corruption. And for what? A thankless citizenry that spits, throws unfinished egg curry dinners straight into the Western Ghats, and steals nice fittings.
On my journey, one sweet tea vendor was chasing a loose chicken through first class shouting, 'Mera nahi hain!' Which led the TT to ask, 'Kiska hain?' To which the vendor, unafraid, replied, that that's the TT's job to find out, not his. This doesn't seem the best route to catch up with China's high-speed train infrastructure.
I've done this journey more than once. Yes, I enjoy sadism. And just on my last 21-hr sojourn, I met a range of characters. First, my compartment companions, a Russian lady and her family, who were carrying four water-purifiers, and tried to sell me one. If I drank the cleansed water, it would apparently eradicate diabetes and heart disease.
They got off in Pune, and a priest got on for the next leg of the journey. He tried to convert me to his sect, which would involve walking barefoot out of the train, and shaving my head. Then came an LIC agent who helps families of the dead. He spent the night trying to coax me into explaining my post-death financial planning, and why it didn't involve LIC.
As we got closer to Bangalore, a family left an infant with me and went snack-shopping. They took so long to get back that I thought I was now a foster parent. The last leg had a voice-over artist who demonstrated the entire range of his vocal chords - from Hollywood villain accents to popular ads - and then asked me what I thought. I told him he was great, but that he should drink more purified water.
So, while India races ahead into the 21st c., long train rides are firmly still locked in the 19th c., where long conversations about nothing, and sharing of food, can make the interminable tolerable, where anyone can get on and off anywhere. The trains haven't changed since 1871. India's long-distance trains aren't a journey. It's all of life in 21 hrs.
(Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this column are that of the writer. The facts and opinions expressed here do not reflect the views of www.economictimes.com.)
Anuvab Pal
Anubav Pal is an Indian stand up comedian, screenwriter, playwright and novelist