Being There

Indian gods
By Sven Eberlein

IN MY TRAVELS around the world, I am always fascinated with each country's system of public transportation for two reasons:

1. You are forced to deal with it on a daily basis. –2. It is a reflection of an entire culture, thus giving the visitor great insights into the workings of a society.

In Germany, the kingdom of punctuality and perfectionism, every little bus stop features an elaborate and weatherproof schedule, including departure and arrival times as well as destinations. The buses and trains are immaculate, always on time, and outfitted with squeaky-clean upholstered seats.

In the car-centric United States, however, public transportation is a little more adventurous: tagged windows, eternal waits, and the occasional unscheduled Big Mac break for the bus driver are not out of the ordinary.

But nothing even comes close to the wondrous chaos of cruising around India. Western principles of law and order just don't apply here. Moving from point A to point B is an exercise in faith, a pilgrimage whose significance lies in the journey rather than the destination. Perhaps this explains why supernatural powers are so well respected and trusted in India – miracles do happen there, and I've had my fair share of them.

Getting on a bus in India means trusting your life to a barefooted driver who maneuvers a vehicle seemingly wider than the road itself through an obstacle course of potholes, goats, and water buffalo. But there is no reason to be worried, because you are kept from falling by the mere density of human mass inside the bus. If you are meant to be in a certain place at a certain time, you will somehow get there.

The same logic applies to boats, taxis, and auto-rickshas, a three-wheel taxi decorated with illustrations of the driver's favorite god, which might be Krishna, Vishnu, Ganesh, or even Jesus Christ. And, by Krishna, you need all the faith in the world to finish an auto-ricksha journey in stable mental condition. After inhaling the black exhaust of passing buses and being driven off the road by hundreds of fellow commuters, one feels grateful to be alive. When you arrive, even your ailing ass will become an integral part of an exalted state of joy and satisfaction.

There aren't many cars in India – nobody can afford such luxury, and besides, there is simply no room left for them between all the elephants and cows – but if you're feeling adventurous, you can try a regular taxi. This may seem like a true haven of comfort at first, but after the driver has picked up seven other fares on his way to your hotel, you'll learn the true meaning of sharing space.

In fact, you will probably never make it to your hotel. Instead, you'll spend the night at the house of the guy who sat next to you, eating, drinking, and laughing all night. Unless you physically resist, you could even be dragged to a wedding ceremony the next day, dancing to polyrhythmic music until your legs finally give out.

The trains in India are actually much more comfortable and predictable than any other form of transportation – provided you have made a reservation – but they are still good for a variety of surprises. I just can't rationally explain what it felt like when I wound up on a train without any food or water and the Indian family next to me graciously fed me the most delicious homemade treats.

At one point I was stranded in the rather unexciting town of Hubli at 3 a.m., waiting for my connecting train to Goa, scheduled for 6 a.m. As I was rolling out my blanket to catch some sleep on Platform 2, an inner voice told me the chances I would wake up in time were rather slim, and yet there was some force that kept me from worrying. When I opened my eyes again, the big station clock showed 7.30 a.m., and to my left a train was departing: it was going to Goa. After a quick sprint, I jumped on. Had it waited for me? And who arranged it that way?

These are the moments when even the most rational part of your mind is forced to accept that there is an Indian god of public transportation. Whatever you call her, she is there to watch over you. She will keep you on the right path.

If you go

Singapore Airlines (www.singaporeair.com) offers the cheapest and fastest flights to most major Indian cities. Make sure to get a Lonely Planet India guide (www.lonelyplanet.com). It lists all train and bus routes as well as places to stay and eat. November through March is the best time to escape the summer heat, and Goa is the best place for Westerners to chill out after having had one too many ricksha incidents. Check out www.goanet.com.


December 24, 2003