VSO Part the Second: India. The first week

So, ladies, I have discovered a foolproof, albeit fairly painful, way to a flat stomach – simply visit India for a short time in summer. Or it doesn’t even have to be summer – today’s balmy spring temperature in Kolkata reached 37 degrees, and a mere 29 at night. This means that, a) it is too hot to eat, b) you are too exhausted to contemplate either cooking or going outside to forage for food, and c) if you do manage to eat more than a simple banana you are likely to get sick. Don’t get me wrong, I am very happy to be back in the craziness of Kolkata, but it has been much more of a shock than I was expecting, mainly due to the heat (and being slightly ill).

I spent a mere two days in Delhi after arriving, supposedly for in country training and orientation, but myself and another volunteer actually arrived in time for the new volunteers farewell party. A new batch of volunteers had arrived at the beginning of March, and they were just ending their four week training – as a short term volunteer VSO let me come out later, and initially I thought it quite funny that we arrived for the farewell party. I have now realised that it wasn’t such a good idea – two days hasn’t given me enough time to acclimatise and adjust or to get all the necessary information and advice from VSO. I didn’t want to spend longer in Delhi though as I preferred to have the company of two other volunteers on the 20 hour train journey to Kolkata.

There followed the second strangest Easter weekend I have ever had (the first being in Islamabad, when I went on visits with new volunteers to sites relating to all major world religions except Christianity (a Sikh gurudwara, the Buddhist remains at Taxila, a Hindu temple and a Mosque). Anyway, this Good Friday we caught the train from Delhi to Kolkata. Travelling on Indian trains is no doubt one of the great un-missable Indian experiences, but while I can now wear the T-shirt I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to repeat the experience. We’ll fastforward through the craziness of Delhi traffic and arrive at the point of lugging 6 months worth of (previously considered indispensible) items in an incredibly painful rucksack up a steep flight of stairs. The crowds of people made Waterloo rush hour seem like a walk in the park, and the sauna levels of heat did not make this unwanted physical exertion any easier. It was necessary to keep a tight grip on handbag and laptop, and an eye on the volunteers in front of me – I felt that if I lost them I would disappear in this swamp of seething and sweating humanity. But, once having reached the right platform, and vowing to bring nothing but a change of underwear next time, things looked a little brighter. We could collapse in the midst of our mountains of luggage and observe the thousands of others scurrying about their business. In the half an hour we were waiting on the platform there were announcements for two other trains to Kolkata – the mind boggles at the number of people who want to brave the 20 hour train journey that they have to lay on three trains within one hour. Half an hour before our train was due to depart it chugged into the station. Before it had even stopped the thousands sat waiting on the platform jumped up and started jostling for position, trying to find their carriage. The train is so long that, as we were sat in the middle of the platform, we couldn’t see it’s either end.

Once the enterprising passenger has pushed and shoved their way to their correct carriage there is the subsequent jostling for seats (or berths) within the limited space of the train corridor. As most people seem to have a lot of luggage, and there are six people in each small compartment, the overwhelming impression is one of claustrophobia. When at last I found my berth there was a row of Indian men sitting on it. The thought that I would have to share this tiny compartment with strange Indian men overnight was not pleasant, but thankfully some of them left, and an Indian family remained with me. Unusually they were very quiet, and didn’t try to make conversation with me at all, which to my frazzled brain was initially quite welcome. I managed to squeeze in my luggage under the berth, and locked it with my padlock (other volunteers had emphasised to be very careful with luggage, and keep all valuables with me at all times, which entailed the happy experience of taking my laptop to the toilet with me.)

Notwithstanding the confusion and chaos that boarding the train entailed, it departed on the dot of 5 o’clock, its scheduled time, and soon after departure a guard came round with a snack for all passengers. And later on in the evening a hot three course meal came round for everyone – no mean feat when there must have been thousands of people on the train.

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to see out of the window so soon retired to my top bunk and escaped from the claustrophobia of the small compartment and the stares of the Indian family into a Phillippa Gregory book. Sleeping was interesting, as I was wedged in between a highly inadequate rail preventing me from falling out, my handbag and my laptop, and the train often gave jarring shakes. Unfortunately the Indian man below me snored rather loudly, a problem the other volunteers had said was rather common, but out came the earplugs, and actually I didn’t sleep too badly given the air conditioning.

The friendly guard came around at 6.30 am with chai, and then at 7.30 with breakfast. Needless to say I slept through both – the point of getting up so hideously early when the train didn’t arrive till 12.40 was beyond me. The morning actually went by quite quickly, as I struggled down the narrow corridor (complete with laptop and handbag) to see the other two volunteers who were sleeping in a compartment a little way down from me. I also went outside the carriage to have a look at the scenery of Bihar – the state through which we were travelling and one of the poorest in India. It was very dry, but there were a large number of electricity pylons.

Impressively we arrived into Howrah station 10 minutes early. I waited until most others had got off before heaving my rucksack onto my back and stepping out into Kolkata and the heat. Lost is the best way to describe how I felt standing on the platform with hundreds of Indians pushing past in both directions. I didn’t even know which way to go to the exit as both the train and the platform were so long it was impossible to see either end. Thankfully the other volunteers appeared out of nowhere, and then Judith, the volunteer who is currently working at my organisation, came to meet us.

Apparently 1 million people pass through Howrah station in one day, which I can easily believe. The heat, sheer numbers of people, announcements and frenetic activity do not make it a place for the fainthearted. Getting a taxi wasn’t easy either, and involved stringent bargaining from Judith, before I sank happily back into the relative comfort of an air conditioned cab.

Judith took me to the office to meet the Director of the organisation for which I will be working, and I managed to smile weakly and shake her hand, but it was clearly evident to all that I was in severe need of a shower and a sit down, so Judith then took me to my accommodation.

The most diplomatic way of describing my accommodation is ‘basic’ and ‘close to nature’. It is clearly in a fairly poor part of Calcutta, that looks little different to a slum, and I have one room with a bed (and a garden table and chairs), and a separate kitchen and bathroom. The floor is concrete plus dirt around the edges, and the doors don’t close properly. I have to go down a hallway to get to the bathroom and kitchen. Don’t visualise a UK style carpeted corridor hung with pretty pictures though, this one has an open waste water drain, concrete floor, and hundreds of cobwebs. The bathroom also has its fair share of dirt and cobwebs, although I do have a shower, and the kitchen again is not of the most modern variety.

But, having said all this, I do have a fridge which is a life saver – being able to store food and cold drinks is absolutely necessary in this heat. I also have a clean cupboard to put my clothes which can be locked to prevent ants and other creepy crawlies from entering, and a new gas stove and cutlery. So, in conclusion I have to be thankful for what I have got.

The bathroom unfortunately has dark and cobwebby corners, with who knows what is lurking there. The next morning as I was taking a shower the largest spider I have ever seen (the size of a dinner plate, no exaggeration) scuttled from somewhere. I screamed, grabbed my towel and ran, but then gathered all my courage together to get rid of it. And the day after, as a preliminary to a proper cleaning, I heaved some water at the corners. This was a mistake. It unearthed a large family of cockroaches, complete from small children to monstrous grandparents, which all came scuttling out. I spent the evening running after them with poison, turning my hallway into death alley. I didn’t use the bathroom at all that night, and only gathered my courage to sweep away the corpses the next morning. Now, when using the bathroom, I cautiously open the door and peer into all the corners with my torch, and have the bottle of poison ready. At the weekend I think I am going to have to take my courage into my hands and give it a proper clean, but who knows what I am going to unearth…. The same will have to be done for the kitchen, I haven’t even tried cooking yet due to the dirt, being ill and being exhausted. So I am currently surviving off coca cola, which is an ideal diet given that it is cool, not going to make me sick, rehydrates me, and has enough sugar and caffeine in to keep me going through the day.