We had an excellent sleep under the warm heavy quilts and reluctantly prepared to leave Quetta. We had breakfast (tea and biscuits) in the café on Jinnar Road and trudged down to the railway station. People called hello and waved as we passed. The train was already in and we found our luxurious (by Pakistan standards) 4 bunk cabin with it’s own toilet. It had cost us 130 Rupees and as we were the only occupants, we had plenty of room to sprawl about.
We stocked up with bananas and biscuits for the 24-hour journey up ahead and we pulled out of Quetta station at 12:00 hrs. A sign in the compartment declared that if anyone smoked after being told to desist by fellow passengers then they could be fined 20 Rupees and removed from the cabin. A good rule indeed!
At the station, a Pakistani leant in through our window and expressed wonder that were having “enjoyment without babies”. We gleaned after a while that he meant travelling without female companions or partners. The train trundled through the desert wastes of Baluchistan and we were joined by a Pakistani Army Captain. When he found out that we were English he cried “Ah, Margaret Thatcher, Iron Lady!” He then beseeched us to linger in Pakistan instead of rushing through in transit. He told us not to miss the beautiful north and learn first-hand, the countries poverty and people.
He talked at length of the history and problems of Pakistan, of it’s religions and it’s separation from India and later, West Pakistan (now Bangladesh). We listened with interest to his arguments which were sound and often amusing, regarding the British Raj, education and the abolition of the Pakistani “Lord” System that suppressed progress. He said that he welcomed Pakistan becoming a nuclear power and said that they would be happy to use nuclear weapons if they were under threat because they were protecting their own land and people.
He left us eventually to read and doze as the train progressed south to warmer desert plains with some greenery, and then back north-easterly to higher ground towards Lahore. The outer doors to our carriage were wide open and occasionally I would stand in the opening, holding the handrail, and stare out into the arid open plains. There was nothing for as far as the eye could see and this vast nothingness was only interrupted by crude tents and occasionally, multi-coloured trucks passed by on the road adjacent to the track.
George is now demonstration how messy it is to eat a pomegranate, spattering his face, hands and the compartment floor with vivid red juice! I pored over our travel bible: “West Asia on a Shoestring” published by Lonely Planet, reading the historical and background summaries of Pakistan and India for the first time.
At Jacobabad Junction railway station we put the local chai boys to good use and chatted with curious locals who posed the usual questions “where are you going?”, “where do you come from?” and “where have you travelled from?” Jacobabad is in Sindh, Pakistan and Jacobabad Station serves as a major junction for Pakistan Railways network.
George and I tucked into some local fast food while Jan looked on enviously, worried as usual about catching something nasty. I continued reading the Lonely Planet guide to try and work out the ideal tour of Kashmir, starting from Amritsar and ending in Dehli, without backtracking or excessive travelling time. George has started reading “The World According to Garp” by John Irving and bursts of giggles occasionally break the calm in the compartment. The night was fairly warm and I slept fully clothed on a dusty upper bunk.
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