No Tickets

We were in India traveling on a third class train. I took no photos on our westward journey, so I have searched out the photos for the next few posts, on the internet.

We had just crossed the border from Nepal back into India. We were excited to have scored the luggage rack! That is the place where you see the man in the photo sitting. It was the deluxe spot on over-crowded third class Indian trains.

Alas! The following excerpt from my book reveals an alarming surprise as we careened through the nighttime countryside.

The conductor and his two guards had just entered our car and started checking the tickets of each passenger. This is what happened when he came to us:

“No tickets?” the inspector asked in a pleasant tone. “No problem. I will sell you tickets right now.”

“The thing is,” we explained to the friendly conductor, “we have no Indian rupees, only Nepalese rupees. We plan to buy Indian rupees in Varanasi and then pay for our train tickets.”

“No rupees? No tickets and no rupees?” screeched the conductor. Uh oh, we thought, our hearts sinking. Like pulling a switch, the conductor’s friendly demeanor had changed to outrage and indignation. At the change, the armed guards stiffened, rifles snapping to attention. Gulp! Our reasonable explanation had fallen on deaf ears.

The other passengers in the car became wide-eyed and alert. For them, a normally dull overnight train ride had suddenly gotten very interesting. They leaned forward in their seats eagerly taking in the drama unfolding before them. We had to come up with a Plan B fast! We held a whispered conference under the indignant eyes of the conductor and expectant stares of the other passengers.

Bill rummaged in the little pouch nestled against his chest inside his shirt and pulled out our travelers’ checks. He stretched out his hand with the magic bits of paper, toward the conductor, an offering to placate an angry god. We held our breaths. The other passengers held their breaths. After scrutinizing the travelers’ checks in the dim light of the overhead bulb, the conductor nodded.

“I will keep them until we arrive in Varanasi,” he said. “In the meantime, I am placing you under arrest,” he added.

On a moving train? we wondered. Where does he think we would escape to, especially without our precious travelers’ checks?

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What would you do to placate an angry person – back down, fight back, try to mediate, or walk away?

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This is just one adventure you will read about in the thirty-eight chapters of my book.

You can purchase EDGE OF THE LEDGE, A MEMOIR OF ADVENTURES LIVED AND LESSONS LEARNED at Friesen Press on-line Bookstore or Amazon.