Sunday 13th March - We meet an Indian Politician.

Amazing. Our Indian holiday is almost over and we seem to have been here hardly any time at all. After breakfast we pack our bags and take a wander round the local area. On a whim we decide to take a tram trip, getting on the first tram we see, signed only in Hindi (or is it Bangla?). As D is paying for this trip we opt for second class tickets to the terminus which cost a massive 3.5 rupees each (about 6p). For this we get a half hour ride out into the suburbs ending up at a tram depot. For some reason the return costs an extra half rupee each and we are cheated as halfway back into town we catch up with the previous tram which has demolished part of the overhead wire and is therefore stuck. We are decanted into the middle of a busy junction without a refund. D plans to write to the council. We have no difficulty finding a taxi which takes us back to the hotel for 60 rupees.
We check our bags with the porter and stroll down the street to R's favourite pub in all of Kolkata - the New cathay. We have been beaten to it by Ray who has ordered lunch. We join him and spend a convivial hour chatting , drinking and eating. One more trawl round the local streets, where we discovered a department store that makes TK Maxx look like Harrods, then it was time to take a taxi to Sealdah station. We get there an hour and a half before the train is due to leave and wonder what we are going to do with our time. After a brief negotiation an elderly coolie barrows our luggage to the platform but we don't know which coach or compartment we are in. AS D walks back towards enquiries the train pulls in and the coolie thinks he knows which coach we are but there are no charts posted. These guys know everything so we go for it.
When the charts are posted we are in the wrong coach and have to move. We are listed to be sharing with an Indian MP who turns up with retinue a few minutes before departure. In the meantime we have had our luggage sniffed by a bored looking black labrador. Our travelling companion turns out to be a genuine farting, burping, slurping, phone shouting anti-social. The Rajdanhi express is too smart to permit hawkers (or passengers hanging out of the doors) but there is an endless stream of catering persons delivering roses, fruit juice, welcome tea with samosa, soup and eventually a fairly ordinary "Meals on Wheels" dinner. So much for this train having the best food on all of Indian Railways. Finally, after the man has converted the seats into bunks, the ice cream arrives. Yummy!
As we turn in another Indian man appears to occupy the fourth bunk but he causes no bother. The MP's sleeping habits are relatively silent and we get a decent night's sleep.