Slithering down from Araku to Vizag at sea level

From 3,000 feet elevation where the Araku valley is located and at a distance of 100 km NW of Vizag, I took a local bus back to Vizag.

Quite the ride this was. Few things of note -

Took train up the hill and bus coming back down. Had not eaten in 12 hours so it started nagging me - I had just come off this binge eating after all and cold turkey wasn't my thing.

So the only thing I found en route to Araku was the dollar menu. On a station half way up I got warm rice with few curries and rasam all tied up in thin plastic baggies. Literally for a buck or about 60 rupees.

It was quite alright as far as food goes - all items were warm cooked relatively recently-- the rice probably was from the farms not even a few miles away. What was interesting was the meal deal included another baggie with white liquid also warmed to around 40 Celsius.

I first guessed it may be milk but that could not be. Milk has poor shelf life so it had to be buttermilk. It was. Never tasted warm buttermilk on a very warm day.

That too went down the hatch smooth once I could get the bag open without spilling. So sweating profusely I consumed my meal deal courtesy the local chef and got into good spirits to enjoy the scenery. The highlight was crossing the highest altitude point (at Shimliguda) with broad gage rail service - in all of India. Altitude just shy of 3,000 feet.

After reaching Araku I had to dead head back to Vizag to get on my next train for pondicherry later in the same eve.

The bus being only option I spent half a dollar worth to get to the bus station half mile away. Then waited in an all Telugu scripted bus stop to wait for Vizag bus. Something akin to a squealing goat showed up in half hour and slammed to a halt amid a bouquet of dust. Did I say I was majorly sweating now?

I got up quick but not fast enough to get a window seat. Tribal native folks beat me to it. Made sure this rattle can was indeed my ride and got on.

Sat at the back- way back. A sweating conductor (not electrical but the guy selling tickets) hustled his way back asking where I was headed. Paid less than 2 dollars to go the 100 km or 60 miles back to Vizag.

Quickly figured that one of the tribal lady with a clutch of kids had the window and she was source of endless entertainment.

As the bus left with a lurch I tried to make my butt rest on the shaking seat while the lady's youngest semi comatose girl started flailing all limbs.

She mumbled something to her and she fell asleep. Wow.

Then the lady decided that the tobacco stock she had held in her mouth for her morning high needed spitting.

So out it goes in a drizzle on some unsuspecting citizen. This happened every 5 km. I began wondering if she ever swallowed anything. After 1 hour I heard a new screeching this time from under our seat.

It was a semi comatose hen making a dash for the living world. It's rear legs were tied and was partially stuffed in a plastic bag with glazed look to match the owner. I saw the woman bend down and perform some karate move that silenced the bird.

This routine repeated twice.

I got off at the next stop to get a cold Coke. I got a thums up (local cola that is now part of the Coke portfolio) that reached 40 Celsius by the time I finished it.

The children and chicken got off shortly after.

My rattle cage dropped me off at Vizag train station 10 min before time.

Presumptive Society

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Brown Motion

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