There's always room for one more in India...

I took a local train from Orchha to Khajuraho today. I was slightly skeptical when they charged me 24 rupees (a little more than 50 cents) for a five-hour journey, but I realized why my ticket was so cheap as I stepped onto the train. Well, I couldn't. There were people, men, women, children and luggage everywhere. The seats were clearly marked three to a row, and I counted at least six people in each row. Not to mention on the floor. And on the luggage racks. I'm not kidding. Grown men were sitting up in the luggage racks.

I knew there was no way I was going to fit. (Me and my pack take up quite a bit of room). But Indians are generous with their space and eventually there was a spot in the luggage racks for my pack. A man kept asking me to sit with him, but I couldn't imagine an arm fitting in the space next to him that he was tapping. I looked at him puzzled and settled in on the floor. After a few stops an older man near the window gave me his seat and somehow squeezed in effortlessly with the rest of the people on the row across from the window seat. I have no idea how they do it.

Once in a real seat, I was able to observe. The farmers coming through each car selling their goods, the blind beggars, the children and of course the men who constantly stare at me. But I must say that Indian children are the most precious little people. This little girl came up to me with some rock candy and then hid in her moms sari. After about an hour, as I was gazing out the window, she hopped up into my lap and we spent the rest of the ride together. She played with my sunglasses and sang to me in Hindi and we laughed and her silliness. It's these little magical moments that keep me going after a day of haggling with drivers and shop keepers. And for once, I was grateful there was room for one more.