Wow, now I know what a marathon runner feels like, just before he starts running.

Sunday 14th November

It feels such a long time since I left the cool snowy mountains and green tea fields of Darjeeling, the last few days have been very up and down as the blog will reveal. I am now back in the hot oven world of Mother India.

I still waiting for the train to take me to Kolkota, I sit in a waiting room, small flies drop on me as the fan sucks them in and deposits them still alive over me and other diners. I sip a flyless mango juice, on the table opposite to me a man gets up to wash his hands, a little beggar girl has been eying his progress with his chicken biryani, as soon as he leaves his seat she rushes in and grabs the chicken leg and stuffs it between her teeth, gnawing it as she flees. They breed them tough here.

I am told that the train is coming in on platform 1 as is Erika (UK) and her partner Have (Sp), we had just met up and swapped travel stories while we waited for the same Kolkota train. We later learn that it actually arrived on platform 1A and we had all managed to miss it.. I manage to blag my way on to the next train, and sit in a none Air/con compartment, the cool night air is certainly quieter then that of the posher class carriage. I hope that they got to Kolkota.too.

Arriving at Kolkota Sealdah Station (its the other side of the city), a taxi driver hassles me and asks where am I going and I say Hoara Station, he says jump in I say how much he says 400 rupees and there are already many white faces staring out of the taxi at me. Black hole stuff,  I call the next cab and get it all to myself for 250 rupees. Kolkota is stiflingly hot, I just don't want to share and talk politely, I want to scream at the overpowering heat. I check the train times to Barka Kana ( eye hospital), park my bags in the baggage store and head on out. I join the half the Indian populace in crossing the famous Hoara Bridge funnily enough at the same time as me, the other half is late and is coming towards us, its mayhem.

At the corner of the road bridge access, at a lower level is the Flower Market, the busiest scene I have ever witnessed, hundreds of people buying and haggling over garlands of marigolds, rose petals (for throwing before their gods), bunches of unopened lotus blossoms, strings of flowers looking like coloured beads, only prettier. After an hour I decide I will join the other half of the Indian race and cross back to the station.Apparently its a good day as there are no cows floating under the bridge, usually 4 legs up..

I must emphasise at this point, that not only is it very humid, but its deafeningly loud, every vehicle hoots to let other vehicles know that it is near or behind them, smoke billows out of every orifice of these vehicles like a snorting water buffalo. Its a constant noise throughout ones stay, now I know what tinnitus must be like.

Finding the air/con 2 birth travellers waiting room on the first floor of the station complex I breath a sigh of relief, and wait for my train. Indian Station complex may conjure up something different than reality, its vast its the largest station I have ever been in and reminds me of a dark satanic mill. Blake would have had great fun with tigers, trains etc.

On the train I chat to my fellow compartmenteers, Marganisha and her two children and an elderly gent BK Bannerjee, they will be on the train for 36 hours, she has enough food to feed India. It will stop her from climbing the walls with boredom. Indian trains only have little piggy eyes for windows, it keeps out the sun anyway you cant see through the grubby windows. She gives me a couple of puris, (hand made flat bread) and bean curry, mmmm. At Barka Kana 250 miles west of Kolkota, in the Bihar region I alight and I am met by Kittu and his driver. What a relief to meet them, especially as I am an 30 mins late. We drive the short distance to the Divine Onkar Mission, I get out of the car and there are over a 100 children waiting to greet me, they all say "Welcome Uncle". I am so tired, I am left speechless.