So as darkness fell I returned to Agra Cantonment station. As I arrived I began to feel unwell again. One of the symptoms was a burp that left an eggy taste in the mouth. Once more I was thankful for the First Class waiting room facilities.
My next destination was Bombay or, more properly, Mumbai. I had about an hour to wait before the earliest time the train might depart and I was in and out of the rest rooms all the time. I felt absolutely wretched and became increasingly weak. By the time the train was ready for boarding I was feeling very faint indeed. I was almost glad of the unasked for assistance of a First Class porter who helped carry my pack onto the train. My seat was located, the pack secured and I lay down.
I wasn't laying down for very long. I'm not sure whether I adhered to the golden rule about not using the w.c. while the train was in the station. I was in a bad way. Even if I did I'm sure as soon as the train set off I was back in the very unsatisfactory lavatory. It had been bad before but this night it was worse. I ran out of toilet paper and was reduced to doing things Indian style (ie washing my backside with water and my left hand). I can't remember how long this went on.
Eventually when there seemed to have been a relatively decent period of time since the last cramps I popped an immodium tablet and hoped for the best.
This turned out to be a very long journey. The train left Agra Cantonment at approximately 8.00pm on Saturday 24 November 1990 and trundled to Mumbai. I think it arrived there at about 6.00am the next day. I still felt dreadful. I didn't know what to do. I had absolutely no energy and couldn't face what I could only suppose would be total mayhem and anarchy outside the station. My dreadful feeling was not only related to the loss of fluids but also because I was full of dread about be jostled and hustled if I attempted to leave the station and go to a hotel.
I hung about in the station which was at least fairly peaceful at that early hour. I need not have worried about whether it was OK to use the lavatory on the train while I was in the station because I could not help noticing at least one person squatting down with his backside hanging over the edge of one of the platforms performing an evacuation of his bowels straight down onto the track below. Sanitation in India today is improving but I understand it will be a very long time before there is sanitation in every home. Even when there is there will still be a problem for people who do not have a home. At that time vast numbers of people lived on the streets of Bombay, people with respectable jobs, not homeless people as we know them here. There just weren't enough places to stay. It was stories about, say, teachers, having to camp out on the streets that decided me that I couldn't cope with a teeming city. The sight of someone doing a crap over the edge of the platform at the station was another reason I decided not to remain there. It wasn't because I was disgusted. I had started to take things like that in my stride. I just decided I wanted a change of pace and to be somewhere less crowded.
I decided to head South and booked a seat on the next train out to Goa. Then I went and had some chai in the Station's restaurant. It is still strange to recall that tea served in a pot in India already has the milk in it. I think I may have nibbled on some dry toast too.
A couple of hours later I took my seat, the one always reserved for me as an Indrail Pass holder on the train to Goa. This was a First Class A.C. Chair car, rather than a sleeper.
