A straight forward rail stage, 6 hours due East to Lucknow
from Agra. Picked up at (by taxi--$25) the guest house and driven 25 kms to
Tundla for the main-line train connection through to Lucknow. Notably, not very
convenient to have to travel so far from the hub city to make the passage, but
hey! this is India! With 4 ½ hours to wait till my 4.00pm train it did give me
the opportunity to visit a small town, as opposed to solely larger cities.
Anxious to unload my case into safe custody, before a walk-about, I caste about for the railway station left luggage office. To locate this, I sailed into the station manager’s office. A gentleman sitting at a large desk, sporting 6 phones, surrounded by a bevy of flunkies & hacks that genuflected and bowed at every gesture he made. Now, here was a man of REAL power, and I enjoyed standing before him in reverential silence, knowing this was a man with his hands on the levers of true power, until he could spare the time to look up and acknowledge this humble rail traveller with heavy bags. I was not sure if I was addressing the President of India himself, rather than the manager of Tundla station. I have heard many (horror) stories and am now frequently experiencing the excesses of Indian bureaucracy whilst travelling--- at hotels, tourist sites, railways etc. These clerical form fillerse in India have mostly not yet reached the computer era and every form, every minute detail, has to be filled out in dirty, carbon paper stacked note books----age, gender, passport detail, grand mothers place of birth! In my case, to off load my two bags, it was a two clerk task force that took fully 15 minutes to learn my life story. So full of gratitude at being in Mr. Big’s presence, I asked for his photo, to which he unsmilingly consented. See attached pic & trust that I captured the solemnity & reverence of this occasion!
Anxious to unload my case into safe custody, before a walk-about, I caste about for the railway station left luggage office. To locate this, I sailed into the station manager’s office. A gentleman sitting at a large desk, sporting 6 phones, surrounded by a bevy of flunkies & hacks that genuflected and bowed at every gesture he made. Now, here was a man of REAL power, and I enjoyed standing before him in reverential silence, knowing this was a man with his hands on the levers of true power, until he could spare the time to look up and acknowledge this humble rail traveller with heavy bags. I was not sure if I was addressing the President of India himself, rather than the manager of Tundla station. I have heard many (horror) stories and am now frequently experiencing the excesses of Indian bureaucracy whilst travelling--- at hotels, tourist sites, railways etc. These clerical form fillerse in India have mostly not yet reached the computer era and every form, every minute detail, has to be filled out in dirty, carbon paper stacked note books----age, gender, passport detail, grand mothers place of birth! In my case, to off load my two bags, it was a two clerk task force that took fully 15 minutes to learn my life story. So full of gratitude at being in Mr. Big’s presence, I asked for his photo, to which he unsmilingly consented. See attached pic & trust that I captured the solemnity & reverence of this occasion!
 |
| Judge a man by the number of phones on his desk.... |
Once
out on the crowded, chaotic main street of Tundla, I noticed that English is much less used than the major cities (I have visited so far), Tundla not being a mecca for the cosmetpolitain foreign tourist & jet set crowd. This is unfortunate and could I suggest, bad government policy, that favours Hindi as the national language. One can soon notice in India that there is a major socal & economic divide between those that can speak English and those that can't.
Ready for lunch I found that it was almost
impossible to find anything to eat beside the omnipresent Pepsi, packages of
crème filled cookies, apples and tiny bananas. Well that is not really true,
there is plenty of street food sold from large pans of boiling oil, and not
only is it hot (as in safe to eat), but VERY hot and spicy. For me, spicy is not a
pleasant taste experience, although many tourists, who go ‘native,’ swear that this street fare is delicious.
No comments:
Post a Comment