Our train today rolled toward Darjeeling through the Northeast Indian countryside at a pace somewhere between “slow” and “parked”. As is normally the case on Indian trains, the four doors, two in the front and two in the rear, were left wide open allowing a 180 degree open-air view of life in rural India. My sneakers planted firmly on the metal platform and my toes hanging out over the edge, I grabbed the rails on the sides of the open door and swung myself out as far as I dared. What freedom! Freedom from rules (“Please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times”), freedom from regulations (“These doors must be shut while the train is in motion”), freedom from cautiousness (“Now you be careful”). At that moment my hope for India was that it would never change.
As I savoured my freedom, being mindful not to get my block knocked off as we passed over bridges where the girders seemed to come right up to the edge of my perch, I watched acres of farmland go by like a panorama in motion. This wasn’t farmland run by some giant conglomerate whose shares you can buy and sell in New York without ever really knowing what they do, it was farmed by people in fields. People carrying armloads of fresh-cut aloe, people with great bales of sticks on their head, people up to their knees in muddy water digging wells. The livestock was plentiful but not dense, a cow tied with a piece of string to a stake in the ground every few hundred yards, a couple goats here and chickens there. This was dirt-poor farming, the people you hear about that are living on just a dollar or two a day.
The wind on my face was filthy from the dust kicked up by the train and the soot from the diesel engine, now belching out smoke as we hit a slight up grade. The air smelled of diesel fumes and a bit of the latrine, the vent for which sits just in front of the open exit door. I studied the people that flew by for just a few seconds each, what was life like for them? How would it change over the coming years as India changes? I thought about the word “prosperity”, what does it mean? Politicians promise it, economists predict it, newscasters tell us it’s what people want to share in, but I wonder what it will mean to these people. Will it bring them dependable electricity? Washing machines? Microwave ovens? iPods? Satellite TV? Will it mean that corporations with money to invest in equipment and vertical integration will buy the land and “increase productivity” by employing of few of them on their now mega-farms? Will that improve the lives of the women drying seeds on the tarmac road? Will it bring happiness to the man squatting in his field? Will it make the future brighter for the kids playing cricket in the vacant field?
The train passes a muddy pond, no more that 10 yards in diameter. The sheen of a thin film of oil covers part of the pond around which a half dozen men sit with their fishing poles dangling above the water. How could there possibly be any fish in that pond I wonder, and who would eat one if there was? I don’t think I would like to trade places with any of these people I see from the comfort of my train but I also wonder, if given the chance, would any of those guys really want to trade places with me? Ah, the mysteries of India!
Hi,
I came accross your blog while searching for blogs at random.
Its nice to read a visitors perception of our Country. India is such a vast and diverse Nation, that it does take more than a lifetime to understand her completely!! I am sure I will read up your older posts as well and gather more information about my motherland… as I dont get to travel often, although my ambition is to travel the length and breadth of my Country and experience its diversity!
Hi Vidhya, Thanks for your comment. We’ve really enjoyed travelling around India, we’ve seen a lot but there is still so much more to see. We’re sad that our time here is coming to an end. I would encourage you to travel around India, especially now, it will be changing so much over the next 10-20 years, I bet you won’t even recognise it.