This is a long-haul train. By and large, they keep it fairly clean, although now and then you’ll find that someone seeing someone off has left a hand-print on a window no one had the time to clean before the train pulled out of the station.
    The motion of the train is relatively smooth and steady. This point cannot be emphasized enough, for it helps account for the curious fact that while virtually every car is fully occupied— in some cars there are passengers sitting on their luggage in the aisles—no one ever seems to get in anyone else’s way as they pursue their various interests. Some passengers are reading newspapers or nodding off to sleep. Others are busy knitting or listening to music or humoring a child. One is making jam sandwiches. Another is steeping instant noodles with hot water from a thermos. There must be a dining car on the train because I occasionally see someone leave the car and return an hour or so later with soft drinks or sandwiches, but most of the passengers appear to have either brought their own food or given up eating.
    This train runs day and night and rarely stops at any stations. When it does stop, it is for the longest time. No one is quite sure why it stops so long, perhaps to refuel or replenish its water supply. Oddly enough, very few people ever get on or off the train. In fact, it seems forever since anyone did either. I suspect the only reason the train bothers to stop at these stations is because it has been scheduled to do so.

    This train has a great many cars, so many it is a wonder it can move at all. Time and again I have tried to count the number of cars only to abandon the task as hopeless. In one of the cars I passed through I saw a niche containing a sacred idol that was so tiny and eroded by time it was impossible to tell what deity or spiritual power it represented. For the life of me, I can’t seem to remember if this “shrine-car,” as I call it, is located up toward the locomotive or back toward the caboose, even though I am reminded everyday when scores and scores of passengers suddenly surge to their feet and move in the direction of the shrine. During one of these passenger surges, I had such a terrific urge to urinate that I tried to force my way against the current of the crowd in an effort to reach the bathroom, but, realizing the futility of making headway against so many bodies pressing forward, I returned to my seat and waited for the crowd to go by. When the last pilgrim had finally passed (I still can’t imagine how all these worshippers could expect to squeeze themselves into one railroad car), I was surprised to find the compartment had completely emptied and was filled with an unearthly light and the faint but unmistakable sound of enraptured voices chanting in perfect harmony. For a moment, the world seemed so fresh and pure I could not hold back my tears.

    Traveling over long distances is basically boring. But this boredom does have its pleasures or, at least, it is something people are pleased to put up with. I once saw a married woman on the train laying sod across the floor in front of her seat and was pleasantly surprised when sheep started grazing on it. Scenes like this are really no different than the ones I see outside my window, and there are times when they seem even closer to nature. In another car there is a fellow who makes everyone close all the drapes and show movies using a mechanical contraption that harnesses a beam of sunlight streaming through a hole in his drape. He even charges admission. Unfortunately, we never find out how these movies end because as the sun shifts direction, the images on the screen become fuzzier and fuzzier until it is impossible to make out what is happening.

    Under normal conditions, passengers tend to keep an eye on their luggage even though there are bound to be losses due to theft. With so few opportunities for a thief to get off the train, most people find consolation in the thought that, even when you cannot find your luggage where you think you left it, it is only a question of time before you do. When the topic of seating came up before, didn’t someone tell a story about two former lovers who hadn’t seen each other in over fifteen years and even boarded the car at opposite ends winding up in adjacent seats? And then there was the poor married couple who were forced to sit in separate cars but were constantly getting up to see if the other was alright — are you comfortable, my dear? is the motion of the carriage making you nauseous? can I get you a cup of water? — until, that is, a kindly young lady drew their attention to a pair of empty seats they had evidently overlooked, whereupon the couple sat down and immediately lapsed into a gloomy silence.

    Sometimes the train simply races along,....