Saturday 22nd February - Train Cancelled

We wake at 06.00 despite having worked out that we don't need to get up until 06.45 and set the alarm accordingly. At least we have time for a leisurely cup of tea. No point in hanging around. We check out, collect the promised packed breakfasts and summon an Ola. In a few minutes we are on our way to NJP confident that we are in good time to catch train 12506. We pay off the cab and then see this.

In nine years and around 60,000 km of train trips this has never happened when it mattered before. D gets in line at the Enquiry Desk and is referred to the Current Reservations Counter, a few windows along. D has heard of these but never needed to use one. Basically they sell vacant berths and seats on trains that are already under way. The lady at the counter has good English and takes a look at our ticket. She tells us that there is another train at 12.50 and there are berths available in 2AC and 3AC. R will be pleased as Plan A involved a long trip in Sleeper Class.

We need to complete a form but this is India and there are none available. She writes one out and tells D to complete it and come back to the window. She also tells him the train number, 15941. This means nothing to D but speed is probably of the essence if a satisfactory remedy is to be obtained. D finds a pen, fills in the makeshift form and returns to the window. It is 08.00 and the helpful lady is just handing over to a colleague. D slides his form through the window in best Indian style, holding it down with one hand while juggling passport, pen and phone with the other. There is a throng building up and a bit of jostling but D keeps the paper in place. The new chap is adjusting the ticket printing machine and ignoring the world outside the window.

Eventually he turns and takes D's form. The moment of truth. Is it filled in correctly? It appears that it is. He turns a monitor towards D and starts typing in the details that D has written. When he has finished he asks D to confirm they are correct and enters. The fare of Rs 2000 comes up on the screen. Is there enough in D's wallet? Another thing to juggle but it works out fine. The ticket is printed and handed over. No sight of passport required. All this time R has been guarding the bags wondering what on earth is going on. 

We have new tickets for train 15941 and the fare for the cancelled train will be refunded automatically. The good news is that we have two inside lowers in 2AC, both in the same bay and that the train goes to the central Guwahati station rather than a place 8 km outside. The bad news is that our arrival time in Guwahati has gone back from 17.30 to 23.20, if we are on time.  We head for the AC Waiting Room and pitch camp in a corner which will be our base for the next few hours. Time for the packed breakfasts, which are rather less generous than the size of the boxes they are in might suggest. Still they are perfectly edible and allow us to take our meds. Next job is to phone our digs in Guwahati to tell them we will be late. The chap takes it quite well and asks D to keep him posted. Then we need to know more about train 15941.

The JhaJha - Dibrugarh Weekly Express connects the two stations named, taking about 39 hours to cover 1690 km. We have heard of Dibrugarh, which is even further out into the North East than Guwahati, but where is JhaJha? It turns out to be a town in southern Bihar and its main claim to fame is that it has a Weekly Express to Dibrugarh. The route taken by this train is a meander across Bihar and North Bengal via nowhere very large. From NJP the route parallels the Darjeeling Himalayan for a few miles, parting company at yesterday's featured diamond crossing. We then head north east towards Sevoke, where we had breakfast on the way to Lanpatchar.

D is able to get some photos around the station. There is a lot of work going on at NJP and some upgrades have been made. The old style blue and white signs are being replaced with smart black and yellow ones. The proof reading hasn't got any better. Some of the stalls on the platform have trays of eggs. "Are these hard boiled?" "No sir. Full boiled" They are just what is required to complete breakfast. The empty stock for the Darjeeling train arrives at about 9.50. The train is due to depart at 10 but the loco still has to run round the coaches and then needs refuelling. The passengers who look to be all Indian tourists, get impatient, but there is no hurrying the crew. They set off twenty minutes late.

NJP is not the most informative station that we have waited at but eventually our train comes up on the screen, showing as on time. A few minutes before due time an announcement is made that the train will be on platform 1, so no bridges to cross. As there are no coach indicators D takes a guess, which turns out to be wrong by four coach lengths. No panic as the stop is scheduled to last for ten minutes. The previous occupants of our berths were not the tidiest of souls and R describes it as Anneka's midden. We tidy up and convert the bunks to seats. There seems to be one up top occupant but he soon decamps to the vacant lower side berth opposite. According to the plate in the vestibule this coach was manufactured in January 2020. It certainly has no fans and a lavish provision of four sockets in the bay.

We are routed via the alternative line that roughly parallels the main line through the Chicken's Neck, a narrow strip of land that skirts Bangladesh and connects the North East states of India to the rest of the country. Our first stop is Siliguri Junction, a trip of 7.3 km for which the train is allowed 45 minutes. The train arrives 25 early and just sits at the platform until scheduled departure time. At 13.45 we pass by Sinclair's a mere 6 hours and twenty minutes after we left. We soon clear Siliguri and make good progress. When we reach the section through the forest we slow down as a precaution against elephant collisions.

The pattern continues. Early arrivals, punctual departures and slow running through forested sections. There are plenty of vendors - chai, jhal muri, shingaras, pani (water), headphones, powerbanks and sundry electrical items. We are asked regularly if we want lunch and treated with incredulity when we say that we don't require dinner. The scenery varies - forest, paddy fields, tea gardens, wide watercourses with little or no water in them. At one stop D deploys the purple cloth to clean the outside of our window, to little effect, but it seems to amuse the locals.

No sooner had D typed the words 'punctual departure' than it all goes for a ball of chalk. We start trundling along at not much more than walking pace for about twenty minutes until we draw up alongside a coal train, shunted into a loop. We wait for another ten until a westbound train arrives, allowing us into the section. From arriving ahead of time we slide into arrears of about 45 minutes. The on train entertainment is starting to wear a bit thin and R opts for the favourite occupation of Indian train travellers, lying down and going to sleep. D is made of sterner stuff and logs into his IRCTC account to check whether this morning's refund has been processed. It hasn't but his eye is caught by an icon called IRCTC e-catering.

This is a feature that allows food to be ordered for delivery to your seat at a specified station. The website is managed by IRCTC but different caterers provide service at different stations. The devil provides work for idle hands and D is suffering manual ennui. Around supper time we are due at New Bongaingaon Junction, a splendid name. Two different caterers offer their services here and D goes for Rail Restro. A basic meal with a couple of add ons is chosen and an online order placed. This is accepted and an invitation to pay follows. The WiFi drops out during the first attempt but the second try works and a barrage of text messages follows. These basically congratulate D on his choices and promise to deliver the food. A later message notes that our train is late and delivery will be adjusted to match. Finally a phone call is received from a man who has no English apart from "Do you speak Hindi?". Meanwhile R stirs, opens the emergency packet of crisps and discovers that the reading lights on the brand new coach don't work. 

The train crawls into New Bong over an hour late. Two youths deliver the meal, which is stone cold, but it is difficult to blame the caterer. Even cold it is edible and our sporks finally get used in anger. After supper the train makes a bit better progress as we take another secondary route that includes the crossing of the Brahmaputra River on the Naranarayan Setu, a 1.4 mile long double decker bridge. There is nothing to see as it is pitch black.