We woke up on the train from Hyderabad to
Delhi on Tuesday morning to find that we were in Agra and had been there for some time.
One of the other passengers told us that there was a power failure (our train was
electric), that no one knew when we would move again, and that he was going to take the
bus from Agra to Delhi. We were considering doing the same when the train began to move.
At the next station, we again stopped for a long time, and again, and again. We finally
arrived in Delhi about eight hours late and made our way back to the Ajanta Hotel, where
we had stayed in October when we first arrived in India.
We later learned from TV and newspapers that the power
failure had affected a large part of northern India. It had many similarities to the
Northeast US power failure (in 1967, I believe). A transmission line had tripped off due
to an overload, leaving one area with too much load, and another with too much generation.
Both areas had collapsed, with generators tripping off-line. They were then faced with the
problem of starting generating units in power stations where no power was available, and a
great deal of power is required to start a generator. The problem had started at about
4AM, and at 8PM things were still not back to normal.
On Wednesday morning, we took an autorickshaw to the airline
office and were able to get Rita onto a plane leaving that night. The rest of the day was
spent shopping. [It's a good thing that Rita was finally able to
get some shopping in before she had to leave.] We returned to the hotel with
less time than we needed for Rita to get packed and to the airport on time. When we got
there, they would only allow ticketed passengers into the terminal, so I waited on the
sidewalk while Rita checked in, and then returned to say goodbye. She was not allowed
outside the terminal and I was not allowed inside, so we said our goodbyes in the terminal
doorway. [So, when you kissed goodbye, which one of you was
flaunting the rules?]
I took a bus back to the New Delhi train station and then
walked back to the hotel. On the way, I passed a building with large plate glass windows.
Inside, I could see two men sitting in chairs and watching TV. On the floor between them
was a campfire. [Sounds like my kind of camping, actually.]
I spent Thursday morning at the hotel, working on the
Bangalore and Hyderabad reports. I planned to take the commuter train to the National Rail
Museum that afternoon, but learned that the commuter trains stopped at 10AM and
didn’t restart until about 4PM. I decided to wait until the next morning to visit the
museum and continued report writing for the rest of the day.
On Friday morning, I walked to the train station and tried
to figure out how to catch the commuter train. I assumed that it was a service like the
one in Bombay, with trains every 10 or 15 minutes. I finally found that the next train was
the last morning train, and would not leave for more than an hour. So much for Delhi
commuter trains! I decided to walk to the Rail Museum.
My walk took me by the exclusive homes of generals and
judges, each with guards carrying guns, a few with sandbag bunkers. When I reached Embassy
Row, there were more guards and guns. I assume that this was greater than the normal level
of security, and was probably due to the recent successful attack against Delhi’s Red
Fort, in which several people were killed or wounded. The unknown attackers escaped.
The National Rail Museum has a yard full of old and
interesting locomotives and cars, including a monorail train that had wheels out to one
side that ran on the road and balanced the train, with most of the weight on the rail.
There was a museum building containing models of railroad cars and some old signaling
equipment. I was very interested in how the signals were used to keep trains apart, and
disappointed to find no explanations along with the old equipment. There was also a
humorous letter of complaint written in 1909 that I have included in the pictures below.
Generally, walking in India requires careful attention to
avoid stepping in cow dung, holes, and ditches, but the sidewalk in front of the generals'
and judges' houses was very good. As I returned from the museum to the hotel, I was not
paying as much attention as usual to where I put my feet. Suddenly, I found myself
sprawled on my stomach on the sidewalk. The culprit turned out to be a loop of small-gauge
reinforcing wire sticking up from a pavement block by a fraction of an inch that had
caught and held my foot. Around here it pays to watch where you step! [We were hoping for a cow dung story.]
On Saturday, I finished the Hyderabad report and packed my
bags to leave Delhi for Darjeeling. At this point, the power failed for the second time
that day, and I completed my check of the hotel room by flashlight. I spent a while in the
hotel cyber cafe, and then walked to the train station to catch my 5PM train to New
Jalpaiguri, the starting point for the toy train to Darjeeling. I was told that the train
had been delayed until 8:30PM. I pulled out the James Bond novel I had bought for the trip
and started reading. When the next train to pull into the platform was not the right one,
I started checking, and learned that my train had been delayed until 1:10PM the next day.
