Thursday 13th February - Gitanjali

Before lovers of Bengali poetry get too excited it should be explained that train 12859, which will transport us to Kolkata tonight, is called the Gitanjali Express. Prior to this transport of delight we have the matter of a second safari at Pench. The alarm goes at 05.00 followed by a call a few minutes later to say that breakfast is ready to be collected at reception. This turns out to be a small picnic hamper which is stowed between us on the back seat of the car. If it was chilly last night it is positively freejing this morning. T shirt, rugby shirt, fleece, long trousers, socks, boots and wishing we had gloves freejing. We are on the road at 05.30 and, after a longer drive than yesterday, arrive at the Sillari Gate just behind a couple of coaches. From these descend a noisy school or college party.

Our driver turns up with the gypsy and we have to wait a few minutes for our guide. These are two older guys than yesterday and they don't even tell us their names so we have no pronunciation problems at all. It has suddenly got much lighter and we are off, leaving the milling crowd of teenagers behind. The forest is more open than yesterday and there are a lot of large dead trees. We soon see a large bird on a wire, yesterday's elusive White Eyed Buzzard. No problem getting a photo today. 

Yesterday our guide told us about Indian ghost trees. These are large white trees, at first glance without foliage, that adopt a pink or green hue according to the season. In quick succession we pass white, green and pink tinted specimens, which seems to debunk the seasonal theory. Further research has not been able to throw further light on the matter but did reveal that legend has it that tigers like to use these trees for claw sharpening. 

The teenage horde have been segregated by gender and packed into gypsies as well as some larger vehicles, like small rucks with bench seats. Every now and then a couple of these catch up with us and we become more interesting than the wonders of nature. Our guide and driver do a good job of keeping away from them but it is not always possible. When an alarm call made by a spotted deer is heard everything on wheels heads in that direction. The kids get bored waiting and their vehicles move on. We wait a while longer but all we see are peacocks.

Next up is a sambar stag, a larger kind of deer than the spotted ones with useful looking antlers. The driver spots an Indian Scops Owl peering out of a hole in a dead tree. D chips in with a Spotted Owlet, near the top of another dead tree. We stop by a small lake and see Lesser Whistling Ducks and a White Throated Kingfisher looking for breakfast. Speaking of breakfast it is time for ours so we pull up outside a small compound where there is a long table constructed with bamboo poles. The hamper contains a tablecloth,  very posh. We feast on hard boiled eggs, sandwiches and banana.

On resuming the quest we move into a different part of the forest where there is some open grassland. A group of sambar come to drink at a waterhole. Once again a common mongoose appears but won't stay still for photos. At one point our driver brakes sharply, reverses and points straight up. High above our heads a pair of Grey Hornbills perch on a branch. One of R's favourite birds.

Time has caught up and we need to return to the Gate. This morning's safari has been splendid, even without a tiger. Ganesh is waiting and we are soon on the way back to the Riverwood. D decides it is too good a chance not to use the outdoor shower. This is a fully walled enclosure, attached to the bathroom, without a ceiling, but with a stone floor and hot water. Most refreshing. We pack our bags and are on the road back to Nagpur by 11.20.

The journey back was mainly uneventful apart from getting stuck in a funeral procession at one point. The body was on the floor of an open backed van, wrapped in a colourful shroud and adorned with tinsel like material. There was a jazz band seated on either side of the van playing with some gusto. Immediately behind followed a number of cyclists carrying bundles of brushwood. Ganesh told us that these were destined for the funeral pyre. Closer in to Nagpur we passed under the remains of the Satpura system line to Chhindwara, the bridge that carried the line is being taken down as we pass. Just outside the main station we go over a level crossing where the narrow gauge line is still in place, alongside the broad gauge.

At Nagpur Station we plan to deposit our bags in the Cloakroom and go to the Narrow Gauge Rail Museum.  At the Cloakroom we are told that we have to have our bags scanned and security stickers affixed. We passed the scanner on the way in and it was non functioning and unmanned. The Cloakroom man is adamant so we haul our bags back along the platform. There is an RPF* man hiding behind a screen, reading the paper. He seems to understand the words Cloakroom and Security Tag and motions us to put our bags on the belt. This we do then nothing happens. Several passers by tell us that the machine is not working. Some have good English and sympathise with our plight but have no positive suggestions. Eventually one of them goes to talk to the RPF man and the belt starts to move. The sticky labels are fixed to the padlocks on our bags and we return to the Cloakroom in triumph.

* RPF = Railway Protection Force

At the Pre Paid Auto counter D asks for a fare to the Rail Museum. He may as well have asked for a trip to the moon. "Which Museum?" "Rail Museum" "Ne" . An ancient and gnarled driver is summoned but cannot help. D gets the mapapp going and points it out. This provokes lengthy conversation and puzzled looks. Eventually it looks as though the Ancient is persuaded to take this on at the highly lucrative rate of Rs 80. He promptly flouts the Station's hitherto universally observed one way system and heads off in roughly the right direction. As we  get closer he goes slower and slower but eventually we spot our target. He drops us off and looks mighty relieved to be rid of us.

The initial impression is good. There is no inflated fee for foreigners or cameras. There are a number of external exhibits, under open sided shelters which help keep the weather at bay. It is the hottest day we have had so far and it does not take long for us to seek the shade of the Exhibition Hall. This has a few large exhibits and lots of small items and photos. D finds it fascinating and R is stoic. The tranquility is shattered by some kind of hen party, aged 18 to 80. To judge by the noise they are making they have been on the Lambrini since breakfast time. They see each of the large exhibits as the backdrop for a group selfie but otherwise have no interest in the contents of the museum. Fortunately they do not stay long.

We see photos that remind us of our long trip on the Satpura Lines in 2015, now all gone. There is also a small display of photos showing Mahatma Gandhi's links with railways. The external exhibits include a North British CC class 2' 6" gauge Pacific,  bought by the Bengal Nagpur Railway in 1907, and the famous revolving restaurant. This is two coaches bodged up together and parked on a turntable. It does not look to be in regular use.  There is also a Miniature Railway circuit (18" gauge?) that is not in use today but does look to be functional. Much of rest of the museum compound is taken up with a kids' play area and picnic grounds. Not as far down this road as some Indian rail museums but perhaps heading that way. It was an interesting 90 minutes but not really worth a special trip to Nagpur. 

We scout out a likely restaurant online. The Mustard Repose offers fine dining and beer. An auto ride to the nearest landmark, a short walk and a nine storey lift ride deliver us. What our research did not reveal was the panoramic view of the largely low rise city. The place is not busy and we were given window seats. The prices are not as lofty as nine stories might suggest, the service and food good and washrooms above average. The only black mark is the selection of beer available. Budweiser Miled or Budweiser Strong. Almost enough to persuade D to go for lime soda. Unknown of NYC please forgive me. We don't hurry as time is on our side today.  After settling up we flag an auto back to the station. The signposted right turn has been closed off with huge blocks of concrete so we have to cross over the station on a newly built bridge, do a u turn and cross the bridge again in the opposite direction before getting access to the station.

We recover our bags and make camp in the AC Waiting Room. D goes to explore the remains of the NG platforms at the north end of the station. They have been comprehensively trashed. Watching the train display in the waiting room it is apparent that trains are running late but by varying amounts. Taking no chances we move to platform 6 for the appointed time, which comes and goes. The indicator board sneakily drops the time back by 15 minutes. This train left Mumbai 13 hours ago and has already travelled 831 km. The coach indicator boards come live and show that our coach will come to a stand opposite the smelliest loo block in all India. A big crowd is gathering but most of them are preparing for the assault on the Unreserved coach that will be two ahead of ours. If they get very lucky they might be able to jump aboard the moving train and gain seconds in the fight for space. 

The fight for space in 2AC is slightly more decorous but still ruthless. Our preference is for a pair of side berths where we can be self sufficient behind the curtains. During the day this means we both get window seats. Indian Railways policy insists on giving inside lower berths to women over 58 and men over 60. We once beat this by lying about our ages but the TTE gave us some very suspicious looks. This time we have been given inside lower berths 13 & 15, together in the same bay and away from noisy doors and potentially smelly loos.

When we finally manoeuvre our bags along the corridor we find a large man snoring in berth 13. 15 is vacant so we take possession of it and start the process of stowing bags under seats. This rouses Mr Big who sits up, blocking the free luggage space. We express the view that we have a reservation for 13 and he agrees but stays put. The fourth occupant of the bay, an inoffensive young man, appears with a tray meal. He eats that perched on the end of 13, then disappears upstairs to 16.. We read, write blog and wonder what to do. The TTE appears, checks our ticket and we learn that Mr Big is the entitled occupant of 14, the upper berth above 13. He has his luggage everywhere. On the communal window table, under it as well as under the seats. From one of his bags he produces a multi layered tiffin tin and spreads out a meal on 13. When he disappears we take the chance to slip our remaining bag into the space he has been blocking.

We have been up since 5 am and are knackered. Mr Big, who is nearly as wide as he is tall, has been asleep all day and wants to get chatty ,which is a struggle as we seem to have more Hindi than he has English. The coach attendant delivers linen packs for those who boarded in Nagpur. We decide to force the issue and make up berth 15 for sleeping. D sits on the corridor end of 13 yawning pointedly.  Mr Big starts chuntering to the young chap in the lower side berth opposite. They come to some sort of arrangement and the young chap moves to 14, while Mr Big sits in the side lower, muttering and watching noisy videos on his phone. We don our earplugs and go to sleep. A long post but that's what a 1131 km train.