I love my college for two reasons; first for giving me friends worth keeping for life…and second for arranging ‘educational’ trips every year. Now as you have probably correctly guessed, very little education is done on these trips.

Although I love travelling and exploring new places, I am still completing my education and can’t really afford to go on trips by myself. I am more or less at the mercy of my college when it comes to holidays, and jump at any opportunity provided by it.

This year, we had two trips organized. The first of these was to Darjeeling, Sikkim and Kolkata, from 25^th November to 6^th December. First I had to get down to convincing my dad, there had been and earthquake in Sikkim just a month before and my dad insisted that it was unsafe to go just a month later. Let me add here that whenever I’m going somewhere or returning from somewhere, an incident of some sort is bound to happen in that exact location. Why this happens is really beyond me. Anyway, after about a week of coaxing and convincing, my dad finally agreed to let me go. I was ecstatic.

On 25^th November I joined my excited and chattering group of friends at LTT (Lokmanyatilak Terminus) In Kurla. We were to board the Guwahati express at 8am,which would get us to New Jalpaiguri, a small but pretty station in the city of Siliguri, on the morning of the 27^th. From there it was a four to five hour journey to Darjeeling. That’s right,more than 48 hours in the train. For the next 2 days and 2 nights,the chugging snake was our home. We played train games, listened to music on our small portable speakers, and generally annoyed each other when we ran out of things to do. Now we were a group of more than 130 people, professors included,and we were all scattered throughout the train in different bogies. To walk across these many bogies and reach a group of friends sitting in the ones further down was a task nothing short of mission impossible. During the day it was achievable, all we had to do was sway our way across stinking lavatories, coffee and tea vendors, fruits and bhel sellers, lock and chain sellers, various types of beggars and eunuchs. This had to be done when our phones needed charging as well, since our non AC bogies did not have charging points, and we had to walk all the way across almost 10 bogies to the AC compartment for it.

But once the night dawned upon us, our train became more like a refuge for people in the Kargil war. Passengers with non reserved tickets got on board and slept anywhere and everywhere they desired. There was not a single empty spot on the floor of the train where there wasn’t a man or child sleeping bundled up. We had ventured out of our reserved berths to meet some friends in the other bogies, and immediately realized our error. Not only was it next to impossible to walk without stepping on somebody’s face, but when we finally returned to our bogies, clutching each other for support, we found them to be occupied by strangers who did not have reserved seats. After much talking and explaining, they shifted to some other berths so that our college group could sit together. The same drill had to repeat at night, since we wanted to sleep in the same compartment but had scattered berths. After lots of switching around and exchanging, which led to a lot of confusion, we were still short of 2 berths. Nobody wanted to sleep alone in the next bogie. We compensated by sharing a berth between 2 people. I had to share a berth with a friend who loved to hug and sleep. She used me as her sleeping pillow, and within ten minutes she had one arm and one leg around me, happily choking me to death. When I finally pried her limbs off me, she turned over with a contended sigh and pushed me off the berth with a single push of her backside. Luckily we were sharing the bottom berth. I picked myself off the floor of the train and got back into bed like a soldier returning to the battlefield, and resolutely made place for myself on the berth. Needless to say, I did not get much sleep that night.I have a large appetite and high metabolism. As a result I feel hungry every one hour, or two hours at the most. But when I’m travelling by trains in India, I eat as less as possible, simply to avoid using the dirty and unhygienic lavatories. Plus it’s not easy to digest food when you’re swaying continuously. Combine this with the plethora of stenches that reach your nose in a 2 day long train journey, and your left with zero appetite. Most of us survived on junk food which would not want to make us unload in the filthy toilets.

So when we finally arrived at Siliguri, tired and woebegone, it is safe to say that I had lost at least 2kgs.  Known as the Gateway of North East India, Siliguri is a city blessed with a bounty of flora and fauna, located in the narrow strip of land linking mainland India to its north-eastern states. When we arrived at New Jalpaiguri 2 days later at 10:00 hours in the morning, there was a light fog upon us and the Himalayas were vaguely visible in the distance. As we crossed the overhead footbridge with our luggage in tow, we could clearly spot the famous snow capped Kanchenjunga peak. This caused a tiny ripple of excitement in our weary group.

There are two ways of reaching Darjeeling, by road and by the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway, popularly known as the toy train. The train departs at 9am, which is why we had to rent buses to reach Darjeeling. After a quick breakfast in a restaurant in Siliguri, we departed towards the hill station which is 6710ft high. The drive is exhilarating. The landscape is spectacular, with lush green valleys and breathtaking views of the Himalayan peaks and the majestic Kanchenjunga. We could not get enough of it. Although if you are going to this hill station, I would recommend taking the toy train which takes one through an even more scenic route. Refreshed by breakfast and rejuvenated by the stunning beauty around me, I thoroughly enjoyed every bit of the 4 hour long drive.

 We stopped for lunch on the way, and a few times so that people could relieve their bladders, and we reached Darjeeling at around 2 in the afternoon.

Darjeeling is known as the Queen of Hills not without good reason. As I stood at the railway station, where we had stopped yet again to pee, I stared open mouthed at the stunning view surrounding me. Words cannot possibly describe the beauty that is Darjeeling. I felt like I was on top of the world, with my head amongst the clouds. Around me were never ending valleys and right in front of me were the snow clad Himalyas, Mt. Kanchenjunga proudly standing out amongst them. I have added some images here, and you can see for yourself what I mean.