[Vision2020] The Sadhu, Meter Gauge, and the Bangalore Express

[nickgier at roadrunner.com]

Good Morning Visionaries,

I'm sickened by the direction of U.S. politics, so I'm taking refuge in more train nostalgia.  This is my column/radio commentary this week.  The full version is attached.

I have at least one more train story up my sleeve.  I experienced my own version of the movie "Silver Streak" (staring the comic who loved sheep in Woody Allen's sex movie--can't think of his name).  I'm saving it for another time.

Have a great day,

Nick


THE SADHU, METER GAUGE, AND THE BANGALORE EXPRESS

It was August 1992 and I was in Bangalore for my first sabbatical to India. This city of 6 million is principally known as India’s Silicon Valley, but I had chosen a very different venue in this sprawling metropolis. I had my own monk’s cell in a Roman Catholic monastery and I was deep into my sabbatical research.  

After three months of study I was ready for a break. My partner Gail was coming from the U.S. and I was planning some excursions for us.  Our first destination was the small town of Badami where there are some famous cave temples. We booked a sleeper car on the express train to Hospet where we would then travel by bus to Badami.  

Our stay at the government guesthouse was literally a riot.  As we approached, resident monkeys greeted us by throwing garbage at us. They had also taken over the dining room and had left deposits from their own snacks on the tables. Our non-violent hosts, a typical Indian response, had done nothing to control their simian pests.

After enjoying the temples, it was time for us to return to Hospet to catch the train back to Bangalore.  Bus drivers in India are very accommodating. They stop wherever a person wants to get off.  Also if they need to travel a little extra way to drop someone off, it is no matter.  

We became concerned that we would miss our train, so we jumped off and found a taxi to drive us into Hospet. The road was one paved lane and complicated system of blinking lights decides who is has the right of way and who is going into the ditch. 

Finally we got to the train station and we ran in with our luggage.  The Bangalore Express was in the final boarding stages on the far side.  It was running on a “broad gauge” line built by the British. Before we could start over on the catwalk, the train pulled out of the station.

As we stood in despair on the main platform, a Hindu sadhu—complete with dreadlocks, long beard, and loin cloth—came up to us.  He explained to us that the train departing on the first track—a “meter gauge” track built by the French—would overtake the Bangalore Express and that we could catch it at the next junction.

Initially, we thought that the sadhu had been smoking too much ganga, because this train’s destination was north and we needed to go south to Bangalore. We had no desire to spend the night in dinghy Hospet, so, out of desperation, we took the sadhu’s contradictory advice.

The always-friendly Indians made room for us in the jam-packed third class compartment. The seats were hard but the company was wonderful. Our new friends offered us food and the one English speaker named Raj explained that this train had to travel south to a junction before turning north.  

We pointed out that the Bangalore Express already had a 15-minute head start and that it was a faster train. Raj assured us that work was being done on the broad gauge line and that we would easily catch up and overtake the Bangalore Express.

Sure enough, we started catching up with the express, which now ran parallel with our train. Raj held on to me while I hung out an open door (how else would passengers get on top to enjoy the stars?) and wave at the engineer to slow down.  Knowing that few foreigners rode the meter gauge train, the engineer would know that I missed his train. The entire car cheered me on in my impromptu train signaling.

Within minutes the Bangalore Express slowed, but I was sure that he got a proper signal to do so. Raj, however, was certain that my frantic signals did the job. The meter train made it to the junction with only minutes to spare, and our new friends helped us with our luggage over the cat walk. The conductor was surprised to see us, but he led us to our compartment where we slept soundly until our arrival in Bangalore the next morning.

The Indian government has now relaid all the old meter lines at broad gauge width (a final victory of the British over the French in India), but we will be eternally grateful for that little meter train “that could”—headed north but going south to save us.  We’ve also learned that because just because a person looks strange does not mean that he is not wise.

Nick Gier taught religion and philosophy at the University of Idaho for 31 years. 
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