Kerala Express, The journey continues

12/11/05, 22.00 Kerala Express, Northern Tamil Nadu

What I will remember most from this journey is not the cramped conditions on this train, the smell and appearance of the toilets (or filth cabin) nor the baked land of Andrah Pradesh racing past the barred window. Not even the man I saw taking a shit by the side of the track. We made eye contact as I hurtled by and I could see that he knew he was in the wrong, he must have seen my raised eyebrow. What I will remember is the kindness and warmth shown to this stranger by the people in my compartment. The two Nuns have given me gooseberry chutney, bananas, roti (Indian bread), rice and oranges. The pretty girl gave me a blanket because she had seen how cold I was on the first night (I wish she would get under it with me) and Ramesh and family have given me two portions of curd rice which has a curious taste unlike anything I have tasted before. In return I have given them, well nothing, as I have nothing to give. The bananas that I brought onto the train are now so bruised that they look burnt.
I played more games with Anusha last night and helped her with some English homework, which just ended up with me reading stories to her. While this was happening her Dad listened to my i pod, the look on his face was fascinating. He looked like he had just emerged from a dentists after major surgery. I tried to remember what music I had on there and hoped that he wasn't listening to "Fuck the Police" by NWA. In a rare moment of peace today I sat reading by the window occasionally looking out at the mysterious, dusty landscape pinned down by a fierce low Sun. A young boy wearing a scruffy blue V-neck sweater with a classic juniors' snotty nose came and stood next to me. His head only just came up to my knees and he craned his neck to look over my hands at my book, he grabbed a few of the pages with his curry stained hands and crumpled them up. He then, without warning, let out a ferocious sneeze covering my right hand and the pages of my book in phlegm. He looked up at me and smiled, flexing the crusty snot over his nostrils, then walked away.
I decided to face my fears in the toilet after developing stomach pains due to holding my bowels for too long. I set about covering the urine splashed seat in toilet paper. This was difficult to do as I could only use one hand, the other was needed to steady myself as the room bounced around the tune of the train. In the end I had dropped the majority of a roll of toilet paper on the floor rendering it useless, leaving just enough to make the seat a "buttock friendly zone". Once seated however I had what you might call "stage fright", nothing happened. With the blazing Sun shining straight through the window it became a bit of an ordeal. I emerged with bloodshot eyes, soaked in sweat. How ironic that just a few days ago in Bangkok I had had chronic diarrhoea.
The pretty girl (I really should find out her name) is now asleep on the bunk opposite me, she is lying on her side facing away. I can't stop looking at her bottom as it slowly moves to the rhythm of the train. I feel like a fiend but I am drawn back to it every time I try to do the decent thing and look away. It's quite sad really that as I sit here gazing at her derriere India is just outside. I have dreamt of rolling through the Indian countryside like this on many occasions and now here I am in the heart of this amazing country staring at a strangers arse.