On board the Vivek Express, India's longest train journey, covering 9 states in 5 days

India’s longest train journey begins at Dibrugarh in Assam, and ends at the country’s southernmost point — Kanyakumari, in Tamil Nadu. Along the way, the Dibrugarh-Kanyakumari Vivek Express covers a distance of 4,286 km; a five-day journey that sees the passengers traverse through nine Indian states. [imgcenter]

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[/imgcenter] Long-distance train journeys often evoke a sense of romance and adventure, but when you’re packed in such close quarters for five days, and the hygiene levels around you are the opposite of spic and span, any airy visions quickly fly out the barred coach windows. [imgcenter]

[/imgcenter] And still, against all odds — despite the heat and the noise and the chaos and the smells of living on a train for the better part of a week — the Vivek Express is not without its magic. [imgcenter]

[/imgcenter] *** I journeyed on the Vivek Express — a female solo traveller, armed with her camera — for a total of 10 days; from Dibrugarh to Kanyakumari on train number 15906, and then back. [imgcenter]

[/imgcenter] Boarding the train at 9.30 pm from an ill-lit Dibrugarh railway station, I couldn’t possibly have known what awaited me. The dark, deserted station heightened my apprehensions, tightening my hold on my camera and luggage. [imgcenter]

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[/imgcenter] “RAC A-1, Berth No 11, Class 2A, PNR 6657427842,” the ticket I clutched in my fist read. It wasn’t confirmed, which meant my first night would be an uncertain one, joined with those of others who similarly couldn’t secure reservations. [imgcenter]

[/imgcenter] Onboard the Vivek Express, I was greeted by a cramped quarters, unpleasant odours, and the faces of strangers. I looked out the window, at the station, and came to terms with the fact that this was to be my home for the next five days. [imgcenter]

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[/imgcenter] *** “Chaaai. Chaaaai.” My first morning on the train began with the shouts of vendors announcing their wares. From tea (and coffee), these steadily shifted to other fare: paan, chips, tobacco. [imgcenter]

[/imgcenter] Amid conversations with a couple of attendants and the ticket examiner, the day passed, and we were in Jalpaiguri. [imgcenter]

[/imgcenter] Then we were past Mariani junction, Diphu, Goalpara town, Kokrajhar, Alipur. The scenes at each station began to blur into each other, so similar were they in their broad strokes: rushing porters, sleeping travellers, very awake children. [imgcenter]

[/imgcenter] A night halt at Kishanganj. Then Durgapur. Waking up to another cup of dull brown chai. Yet another breakfast order, scribbled into an aged notepad. And then, the midway point — Day 3. *** Traversing through the non-AC compartments, the feeling of being in a crowded marketplace intensifies. Snatches of conversation take place in Bengali or Assamese. Makeshift hammocks are strung up in ingenious ways. All the tricks in the book are used to help maximise space: six-seven passengers huddled into a single berth, those on the floor sleeping feet-to-head alternately. Comfort is not the point, simply finding a space is. A space that’s enough to stand or sit or sleep in, or to play a card game. [imgcenter]

[/imgcenter] But by the door, there is breathing room. The wheels of the train clang against the rails. Life outside the train comes into focus, then speeds up, before disappearing, only to be replaced by a fresh vista. *** Midnight. Vizianagaram. Vacant benches are occupied by dogs. Travellers fight off fatigue and wait for their trains to arrive. Vendors try to sell their now stale food. I muse about these stations I’ve passed — cities within cities, temporary holding cells for the dreams and aspirations of all who pass through them. Morning arrives. [imgcenter]

[/imgcenter] Inside the train, brisk business deals were struck. Those with berths tried to sell them to those who without. The compartments and corridor got increasingly filthier. Cigarette butts, paper cups, emptied food wrappers. The stink rose from the toilets. I wondered how I’d use them the next day. [imgcenter]

[/imgcenter] *** At Jolarpettai, I pulled the emergency chain. During our enforced, unscheduled 15-minute halt, the train’s toilets were cleaned. Some of the other passengers cheered me. [imgcenter]

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[/imgcenter] When we reached Kanyakumari, the train was suddenly empty. The transition from raucousness to complete silence was startling, and the train itself felt dead. [imgcenter]

[/imgcenter] I took a few photos, and prepared for the journey back. All photos courtesy Rashi Arora