It’s 04h30 on Saturday morning, 5th February. I’m on a train that’s running 30mins late and am somewhere 9hrs outside of Mumbai sharing a curtained-off “compartment-cum-cubicle” with 3 other folk. I’ve been allocated to the top bunk which turned out to be subtly more comfortable than I anticipated. There must be about 60 of us in this carriage; it’s not a 1st Class carriage but it does at least have air con which, itself, has a mind of it’s own and blows cold-to-freezing. There are about 25 coaches attached to the train and Satish (who is accompanying me on the soap factory visit in this village of Khamgaon) recons there could be anything up to 1,600 people on this Friday night train. I don’t think as much of as that, but if our carriage is anything to go by there are bodies strewn EVERYWHERE. It’s only the toilet cubicle that doesn’t have a body wrapped up in a blanket occupying the space. Otherwise there are people sleeping in corridors, in cupboards and some even sharing bunks.
And I think this epitomises the overcrowding that is India. And yet there is general content and satisfaction. Everyone tolerates the next person that’s encroaching “their space” (although I don’t think there is anything like “personal space” here. At least on the train and in the US$30 set-up I’m travelling in the bedding is clean albeit that the fittings leave much to be desired and I can’t account for its hygiene. There is a western and an eastern toilet in the carriage with some running water which is probably more than you’d get in other carriages or other public facilities elsewhere. And I feel like I’m living in a small corner of the “Slumdog Millionaire” movie set.
It’s now coming up for 22h00 (16h30GMT) on the evening of Saturday 5th February having just boarded the very same train back to Mumbai that dropped us off here at Shengaon some 17hrs ago. Needless to say it’s been a long day and quite an excursion for my first 30-odd hours in India. As I’d hoped I’ve seen and experienced way more that I ever have in any other country I’ve travelled to for work simply because I decided to arrive a day or 3 early to visit a factory and do that by train rather than by flight. I slept remarkably well on my 5cm thick upper bunk mattress during the overnight train trip last night. I was barely aware of the numerous train stops to fetch and despatch passengers. The expected “clickety-clack of the train on a track” (Neil Diamond, was it??) never quite materialised. Instead these was some droning from the tracks, the whirring of the air con fan and the periodic tilting of the train to and fro as it made its 580km journey into nowhere. I think the earplugs helped, though! I did try to make a gallant start at reading “Shantaram”, but by page 5 I found myself re-reading the same paragraph 5 times so I pulled the plug on the light and went to sleep.
A taxi was waiting for Satish and I in the dark of the night upon our arrival, amidst the scooters and tuk-tuks. We were whisked off to the Unilever Guesthouse which is on the factory premises along with some of the Manager’s homes. We managed to get another 2 hours of sleep before having to get up for breakfast and start our day’s tour of the Factory facilities that had been arranged for me. What I saw and experienced of Unilever here in the village of Khamgaon I have only experienced once previously and that was when visiting Unilever’s origins at Port Sunlight on the Mersey in the UK. Not too unlike Port Sunlight’s origins, Khamgaon is built around and supports a huge number of the Village’s residents. It’s amazing to see; it’s Unilever’s putting it’s money where it’s mouth is when it comes to Corporate Social Responsibility and it’s warming to see. This little (by global standards) soap factory out in the sticks employs 460 permanent staff from the village plus an additional 200 temporary staff. A 3rd Party Packer that packs product on their own Site exclusively for Unilever employs a further 300 employees (yes, extremely labour intensive!! Clearly labour’s cheap here!). And then other associated business in the village that support Unilever’s operations make up the over 4,000 people from the village (ok, small town) that are associated with the Company. How’s that? And they all (??) say it’s a great place to work and several of their parents have worked for Unilever before them. Pretty cool, actually. This Site is now the sole manufacturer for making good old Pear’s Transparent Soap globally. It was fun spending the last 45 minutes of my day being shown around that operation by some very enthusiastic Operators who were clearly SO proud of telling me the intricacies of their unique operation. And it was also made that much sweeter that they happened to be packing off an export order for South Africa at the time!
Anyway, it’s clearly been a full, highly unique – if not a little stretching – last 30 hours for me, what with my maiden arrival in India / Mumbai, the practically immediately boarding a long train for the “outback”, lack of privacy, clearly being the only whitey for miles in the far flung (or so it felt) reaches of rural India. Now, returning to Mumbai I’m once again cognisant and insanely grateful for these privileged opportunities I’ve been afforded. I’m about to purposely switch on my iPod (under the cover of darkness in my little 4-sleeper cubicle ahead of the 9hr train journey back to Mumbai and listen to my hero Steven Curtis Chapman sing “It’s All Yours”, a song I have LOVED to play walking the streets of London the beachfront of Casablanca, visiting Buddhist Temples in Bangkok, and now “slumming it” on a sleeper train across western India. The song stirs me every time!
Just a quick comment on my initial impressions of Mumbai, before I wrap this one up.
I must say I wasn’t anywhere near as jarred as I thought I would be. Sure it’s dirty – VERY dirty – and congested and chaotic. There are people everywhere, and not just a few cows roaming the streets too, which is a little odd, to say the least. The contrast between abject poverty and the stories of (I’ve not seen it yet) extravagant wealth is no doubt poles apart. But I must say that based on what I’ve seen so far (in a very limited time) I think I found Lagos, Nigeria significantly worse. But let me try to wander the streets of Mumbai – or Bombay, as many locals still refer to it – on Sunday for a bit and then report back. Maybe I haven’t seen the worst of it. Or maybe I’m just not in the right city to experience the worst of it. That’s also quite likely.
Ok Steven Curtis Chapman … take it away …
Good night all.
