Oddly enough, there is indeed a direct train connection between Kanyakumari and Trivandrum.
Either I misunderstood something, or, which is more likely, I've once again been taken in by one of those lovable, but often fatal false statements. For many Indians, the fear of making a mistake and losing face as a result is greater than the desire to help.
Which reminds me of my first trip in a VW bus through India and of a decisive mistake: to ask someone for the way and at the same time indicate the possible direction by hand. The answer is with deadly certainty an approving nod, even if the interviewee does not have the slightest idea.
Train stories
While driving north, I remember an old Hitchcock thriller, Strangers on a Train. I hope there will be neither conspiratorial conversations nor murder plans on today's trip, but the memory is pleasant.
Hitchcock - Strangers on a Train
During a train ride, Guy Haines, a tennis star with political ambitions, meets a man named Bruno Antony on the train. Bruno, a mother's son from a wealthy family, has collected extensive knowledge about Guy's private life: For example, he also knows about the arguments Guy has with his wife, who lives separated from him, and about Guy's plans to divorce in order to marry Anne Morton, the daughter of a senator.
Bruno proposes a deal: Since he always dreamt of committing the "perfect crime", he is willing to kill Guy's wife if he kills, in return, Bruno's hated father. Since the victims were completely alien to the murderers, the police would have no logical motives. Guy believes that Bruno is a harmless madman (Wikipedia).
Train ride with Larry
There are no sinister plans and murders to discuss today. I'm driving north with Larry, yesterday's conversation is being continued.
It's always amazing how quickly people, especially those traveling alone, make friends and confide all sorts of private, even tragic and personal things to their until recently unknown counterpart. It's the same with Larry. Dark abysses, anguish and loneliness are revealed behind his amiable, open nature.
That's not new to me. And I always have to ask myself in retrospect, if I also belong to this species. That I entrust something hidden and secretive to a stranger rather than the people who are important to me. There are times when I vehemently reject such thoughts, in brigher moments I am not sure.
Separate paths
Once more a farewell. For a very short time two people have met, exchanged their stories, their injuries, their hopes, and now you shake hands, knowing that you will never see each other again.
Beauty remains beauty
After the leisurely ride from Kanyakumari to Trivandrum, the compartment fills with Indians, it's hot and stuffy. A young Indian girl, one of those early blossoming beauties already showing signs of future plumpness, is sitting opposite.
But what the heck, beauty stays beauty.
Yesterday's headaches have disappeared, the terrible Hotel Baghya is already floating in the depths of memory. North is the only possible direction, and so I drive in the slow pace of the Indian train in the crowded compartment towards Kollam or Quillom, as it was called earlier, where I hope for a better hotel and a pleasant city.
Thoughts about destiny
In India, sooner or later you start thinking about fate and the incomprehensible mechanisms of chance. Or of coincidence.
Here the well-protected, rich, spoiled Westerner, there the poverty-stricken, troubled human being struggling every day to survive. What makes the difference? A past life or the sequence of them? Good or bad deeds and if so, is there consequently an instance that controls and organizes the whole by means of value measure?
Or is it coincidence, a controlling, guillotine-like miserable coincidence that tilts people into this group or another?
No answers
Man wants answers that no one can give him, and despite Buddha and Jesus and Mohammed speculating and searching for the truth, he is lost in the world. He wants to know whether he should be happy about his good fortune, whether he should have a bad conscience because others are doing badly, whether what he is living now is to his advantage or disadvantage. Or whether he is a kind of guinea pig for higher-level beings who have a blast watching the billions of rabbits and occasionally interfering with their fate.
A bad game, a lousy pastime of bored existences?
Is God there, does he hear the pleas and complaints and remains silent?
I dont know. I probably will never know.
Kollam - nothing special
Anyway, I reach Kollam in the afternoon, let myself be taken by a tuk-tuk to the Shines hotel and am quite satisfied with it. The cockroaches, that appear later, annoy me, but I don't intend to harm them. As the saying goes, in the case of a third world war they are, along with Keith Richards, the only survivors.
After all, I have a balcony with a view over the city, a huge double bed with a buzzing fan overhead and an acceptable bathroom. Not too bad, a noticeable improvement in comparison with the last hotel.
Heroic courage in the evening
Kollam itself is nothing special. Unfortunately I find out in the Tourist Office that there is no day-time train across the wonderful Western Ghats, so I have to take the bus. Let's see. In any case the Backwaters tour to Alleppey for tomorrow is booked (it caused me some headaches to find out the best option for the tour and the trip to Madurai, but alas, I succeeded).
In the evening, I walk down the street trying to survive this frightening chaos. It takes some heroic courage to cross the street, and there are moments that I would rather not remember.
Evening with Indian TV channels
At least I find a restaurant in one of the better hotels and fill my hungry stomach. There's an early goodnight, however, HBO and other networks lure me into watching stupid, violent American B movies, and once again I marvel at the realization that American culture is primarily built on violence.
However, I have to admit that the numerous Indian channels produce less violence, but a degree of kitsch and bad taste that even I have spoiled the enjoyment of television ...
P.S. Matching Song: Element of Crime - Beware of Strangers
And here the journey continues ...
