After failing to explain to all and sundry “Why Bhopal, the dry and dusty city still bearing the scars of the Union Carbide tragedy?” and packing overpriced bags of trans fat, sodium and sugar (read, chips, cakes and cookies) we set off aboard Indian Railways Train No. 11057 on a trip to the heart of India. It was a night train and we woke up in the morning to lush countrysides swishing past, in all shades of green. The Tapi and the Narmada, both swelled by the rains, their brown waters gushing by uncontrollably, dangerously close to the banks, spitting foam as wave after wave hit the banks, were awe-inspiring sights and a grim reminder of floods ravaging the country.
By early evening we were at Habibganj, just an hour and half behind schedule, breathing in the coolness of fresh rains, the sticky heat of Bombay a distant memory. The Uber driver informed us that the rains that had paused only since last night, was what had brought about this pleasant weather.