Sleeper

10th of November

I’ve got no idea why they call it sleepers. Not even a guess and especially not a theory. It is cheaper thou, a 12 hours train ride only cost 150 rupees so I can’t complain there. Compared to the horrible sleep I got waiting for the train would most ways of travel be considered a luxury or at least a walk in the park. This wasn’t.

Sleepers class is a couple of train wagons with an interior of booths. Each booth can carry up to ten passengers, assuming they’re not westerner-sized of course. Above each booth are low shelfs which in European country would take the passengers luggage but here was designed to double the passenger capacity. We fitted eight fully grown, in most directions fully grown, men up there. That was painful and I know, because I was one of them.

Most of us stayed for more than 10 hours on the train. After a few stations did someone bring a peacock-dress, in the size of a bathtub or two, which filled up the remaining air in our booth. I sat and hugged my knees and backpack. This wasn’t comfortable nor in any way considered luxurious. My butt hurt after half an hour which forced me to a half-hearted attempt to change position. I heard some of the other Indian passengers laugh at me.

I was the only foreigner on the train, at least in this part of it. Most people passing gave me an extra look, like they thought I was lost. I could in some ways see why. The reason I got this ticket was that every other already was booked and partly because I didn’t knew any better. I know now, and I wouldn't make this mistake again. Once is an experience, twice is a slow learner.

We grew to be a family by the time most of them were leaving. Many of us had fallen asleep on top of each other, me included, and there hadn't been much of a personal space for anyone. We shook hands and wished everyone a happy life when someone was leaving, because if someone had slept on top of you or the other way around is there a bond and a common decency to follow. I especially remember the family father who slept with a foot under my butt which didn’t really made the pain any less. All thou, there were no other place for it up there on the shelf, so it was either that or letting it hang in the passenger below him, an old lady’s, face. With this I shall end this description and encourage everyone to the same mistake as I did. Once.