It was 11:10pm. The train was supposed to have left thirty minutes ago, and yet, it had not even arrived. Meanwhile, the already over-crowded platform got even busier. Women in saris of turmeric yellow and parakeet green, old men wearing dhotis and warm coats, girls in sparkly party dresses, running here and there, IT guys with their ubiquitous backpacks, jeans and checkered-shirts. We had already walked through the main station, where extended families were camped out on the floor, vendors were doing brisk business selling spicy snacks, and porters were collecting luggage. It was chaotic, noisy and dusty, and I was getting slightly tired of waiting.
It is kind of funny writing a post about Bergen, from Bangalore. But its been a week since I left. Driving away with mum, I commented that it was a bit like when I left Aberdeen; the car filled up with my stuff, and me feeling not so sad to be leaving. I’m not too good at sticking in one place, it seems.