Arunachal I: Home-Howrah

We've sent Dad ahead with the luggage, on a rickshaw. And now we're going-- Mum and Raka and I. Teh ickle brat has her school-bag strapped on her back-- filled with accessories and magazines and bits of clothing and (yes, I'm a geek) the complete works of Geoffrey Chaucer, whuch I plan on using to avoid the Boy.

And now we're on a taxi-- bags stuffed in the trunk-- one of them took a tumble from the rickshaw. The driver decides to take off via Lake Gardens, to avoid the usual Pujo crowds, this being Nabami and all. Turns out he's right, cause we only stop a few times, and that at traffic lights-- huge relief, as it's way past two and the train leaves at four.

I love the stretch from Victoria memorial to Vidyasagar Bridge--vast and colonial, broad open streets and massive buildings.

We're here-- at Howrah station, that is. Coolies have congregated around us, and one is haggling with Dad-- always a spectator sport, though Raka almost spoils it, because she's still unused to each little twist he uses. We pile the bags on the coolie and follow his excruciatingly slow steps through the station.

Grumpy old toad takes us to Platform no. 9 (yeah, no 3/4 to add to it). His face darkens visibly when we find seats and drag our bags to it.

And then, at 3:20, the train chugs in.