North to South on the Bangalore Rajdhani Express (Delhi-Bangalore, November 28-30, 2008)

My train is scheduled to depart from Delhi's H. Nizamuddin station at 20:50, and arrive two days, or about 34 hours later, at Bangalore CYJN at 6:35. I will spend two nights on the train, which I am excited for. I love train rides, and I've just started The Kite Runner, so I have an excellent read for the ride. Once I am on the train, I discover that all my meals were include in the ticket price, as this is how the Rajdhani Express caters to its passengers. We are continuously being fed meals of rice, dhal (lentils), subji (cooked vegetables), curd, a sweet, pani (water) and a juice box. In between meals, there are snacks--chai and biscuits, bread with butter and jam. It is difficult to be bored when continuously served culinary surprises.

Along the ride I meet a Pakistani-American man who is about my age. He is in India with a group of Muslims that do service projects. He had already spent some time in an impoverished community in India, and he will eventually head to Bangladesh and Pakistan. I am jealous because he paid the same price as me and got a Bangladeshi and Pakistani visas that last several years, I suppose because he plans to return to these places to do service work and visit family. We talk for a while about values and religion. He tells me about his wife, how they met and fell deeply in love, how she respects his decision to leave for a while and do these service projects, how they have very open communication. When he is in the US, he does IT work for large corporations. It seems good for him.

Later, I join the Muslim-American man in his cabin and meet his two Uzbekistani cabin mates. They are a couple; the man is of Russian heritage, and the woman of Uzbek heritage, but both citizens of Uzbekistan. They are traveling in India to meet a religious teacher they have been following, especially the man. I think the woman works for the Uzbek government, and I cannot recall the man's line of work, but he seems very intelligent. We talk about Uzbek culture and history, Russian culture, and the future of the Russian federation as it relates to Uzbekistan and other former satellite states. The man seems to be very interested in conspiracy theories and the impact of Christian/Western mythology on the development of the world.

I also finish reading The Kite Runner on the train. I am thankful for the time to read. Several times the book makes me cry as I lay in my bunk, hopeful that my Indian cabin mates don't see the tears.

In my last hour or so on the train, I make friends with my cabin mates so that they can help me find a taxi or rickshaw at a decent rate. The group of young men find a ride for me and try to get a good rate, as I stand back so that hopefully the driver will not realize he is taking a white person that he should be charging more.

I thank the men and head off to the Swami Vivekananda Yoga Anusandhana Samsthana (SVYASA) center in Bangalore. It is early morning and the streets are surprisingly calm. My first impressions of Bangalore, and of the South, are positive. It seems like a smaller, more navigable city than Delhi. But maybe this is only because it is morning. We drive past some impoverished areas, and then finally find the SVYASA office.