Since our train from Faizabad to Bodh Gaya — or Bodhgaya — was not scheduled to leave until after 9:00 p.m., (and “scheduled” is a key word here), we had the entire day to do our packing and say our goodbyes to the school staff, including the teacher who had cooked our meals during the preceding month. After we’d asked the school how to arrange a tuk-tuk to the train station, they provided us a car and driver at no cost. Did we mention they were stellar WorkAway hosts?

Apartment in Faizabad to Train Station

Rather than simply drop us off, the driver — who did not speak English — came inside with us, apparently intending to wait there until we boarded. But it would have been a very long wait, as the train already was running three hours late. Which is not at all an unusual occurrence in India.

Waiting at the Train Station for #13152 to Gaya

There was a young man nearby who spoke English, and knew the son of the Director of the school, and he communicated with our driver, who offered to take us back to our room to wait the three hours there in considerably more comfortable circumstances, then bring us back to the station again. It never ceases to amaze us how Indians are so often willing to go the extra mile (literally). Not to mention, in this case, the extra hours. But we assured him (through the translator) that we’d be fine waiting there at the station, and we didn’t want to inconvenience him, so there was no need for him to feel obliged to stay with us. So he hesitantly (but with great relief, no doubt) took his leave.

The young man also introduced us to one of several fellows in military uniforms, who was catching the same train as we were and he said would be happy to keep an eye out for us during the ride and make certain that our needs were met. But we lost track of this military (or rather “paramilitary”) man in the shuffle as we crossed the tracks on the overpass to the side where we needed to board.

The multitudes always seem to be multidtudinous at India’s train stations, but this time they were more extreme than ever. It was humanity squared, cubed, infinitied — flesh practically stacked like firewood. Passengers sleeping or lounging on the platforms, on the ground outside the station, on the overpass, on the steps leading to the overpass, and anywhere and everywhere else. They were lying, sitting or standing anywhere they could. And sneaking away to pee anywhere they could. Hundreds, if not thousands of passengers prepared for a long vigil for who knows how many tardy trains.

But as it turned out, our particular train was not really three hours late. It was more than five hours late, pulling in after 2:00 a.m. At long last, we stumbled on board and flopped into our berths, and bedded down for the night on bunks that were actually quite comfortable.

On Train #13152 at Last

It was not to be a long night’s sleep. The bunks convert into seats during the daytime, and a family came to claim their seats, alias our bunks, pretty early in the morning.

We splurged on a couple of cups of hot chai from a vendor (about 20 cents each) and this time they were rather tasty. The chai was actually made with brewed tea rather than (as is often the case on trains) from a packet of sugary mix.

By this time, the train was six hours late, but who’s counting. All we could do was sit back and enjoy the ride and marvel at the scenery outside the window. At one point we passed over the fabled Ganges River, the most significant geographical feature to Hindus. For centuries they’ve been gathering at its banks to perform religious rites, including distributing ashes of the deceased and bathing in its waters. And they still do so, despite the river’s alarming modern level of pollution.

At one point, a beggar came aboard and plied his trade. As did a shoeshine boy. (Does he really make a profit when so many Indians go barefoot or wear sandals?) And of course all manner of vendors of food made the rounds as well.

Ultimately, we were seven hours behind schedule when we reached our destination of Gaya. Actually, that wasn’t our destination, it was just where we got off the train. Our destination was a school in Bodh Gaya, a town a few miles south of the city of Gaya. Fortunately, there was no shortage of transportation available to get there. The town is a tourist destination, being the traditional birthplace of Buddhism.

From the Station in Gaya to Where Exactly?

In no time at all, we were approached by a tuk-tuk driver who asked us if we needed a ride to Bodh Gaya. No doubt he generally assumed, when he saw foreigners get off the train, that that’s where they were headed. And no doubt he’d generally be right. As we were loading our bags into his tuk-tuk, he got into a bit of a heated exchange with another driver, perhaps over who was going to get our business. But they apparently worked it out. It was rather unusual to see such an altercation, since Indians are usually so courteous and amiable.

Once we arrived in Bodh Gaya, and found the approximate coordinates of our new home, we still were confused about its exact location. Despite months of communication and making advance arrangements, the only address we had was “near the Korean Temple”. As we’d later learn, it’s not uncommon in these parts to list an address that way — as being simply “near” some landmark. We’d also learn that, from what we can tell, all natives of Gaya and Bodh Gaya have a surname of Kumar (if male) or Kumari (if female). Seriously. Between the vague addresses and the uniformity of family monikers, we don’t envy the local mail carriers.

After the tuk-tuk driver asked around he was able to track down our host, who came to meet us, and conducted us to our new home, which was in his home — which had been staring us in the face, though it was set back a bit from the street. After we trudged up to the third floor, he showed us what had been designated as our room, though instead we ended up opting for the room across the hall, which was bigger, had a wardrobe, and had (glory be) air conditioning. There were no windows, but there was a door opening onto a little outside balcony.

Settling into our Room in Bodh Gaya

Our host served us a late lunch prepared by his wife, and it was delicious. He also promised we’d have tea later, which is pretty much a given whenever you visit someone in India. But the tea never materialized, and perhaps we should have taken that as an omen.

Above photos all taken from our room and driveway. The scenery was vibrant.

Our immediate concern was getting online for a bit, but we learned there was no wi-fi at the house. To get online, we had to schlep several blocks to a little travel agency operated by our host (who also operated the school where we’d be volunteering). This became a daily ritual for us, as we’d walk, either together or one at a time, to take care of computer business in the office. Oh well, we’ve never expected to live in the lap of luxury. There were several employees, but very few customers during the time we were there.

Shopping Barefoot and Exploring our new Neighborhood

An even more immediate concern was figuring out how to prepare meals. The host’s listing on Workaway had stated that volunteers would have kitchen facilities available; this is always a major factor for us in deciding where to volunteer. But there was nothing in either of the guest rooms — not a refrigerator, not a stove, not a hot plate, not a sink, nothing. When we inquired with the host about this, he said that he would make arrangements to bring us a little gas-operated cooker. That still left no way to refrigerate food, with the result that we’d have to go shopping almost every day. At least we’d have free drinking water, as there was a filtration system at a faucet downstairs in the hall.

Adding a Makeshift Kitchen to our Living Quarters

The stove still had not arrived by about 6:00, so we went out and rounded up some grub that we could eat cold for dinner. Then about 8:00, a couple of guys came with the stove and a tank of gas to go with it. The kicker was that they expected us to pay them 2000 rupees (about 25 dollars), as the host had told them we would. It was clear that he was not going to cover the cost, so it was up to us.

This was pretty much a good indication of how things were going to go for the next month. We’d just left behind one of our best volunteer positions. And now we’d arrived to begin one of the ……. how shall we say…. most memorable. For better and for worse.

Reserved for Birds

Bird photo also taken from our room.

Aug 6 - 7, 2022