Two Worlds of Indian Railways

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the Indian Railways operated as two distinct culinary universes running on the very same tracks.

Inside the first-class dining cars and executive station refreshment rooms, white-jacketed stewards served formal Anglo-Indian menus on starched linen. Here, chefs engineered rich, gently spiced curries tempered with coconut, tamarind, and vinegar—built to hold their flavour across long cross-country journeys without overwhelming the British palates.The food was served in a style known in the best restaurants in the world, on tables set with the finest china, shiny Sheffield steel cutlery and cut glass wine glasses.

Just outside on the station platforms, a completely different sensory world came alive every time the train hissed to a halt. Through the carriage windows, local vendors passed steaming leaf-cups of spiced chickpeas, crisp fried papads, and hot flatbreads straight off clay ovens, filling the air with toasted cumin, black salt, and fresh coriander.The chai and coffee sellers with their calls of “caaaffeee, caaafee, caaafee” (coffee, coffee, coffee), “chai garam chai” (tea, hot tea), trying to ensue calm that their drinks might bring amidst the utter chaos and confusion. Men folk sit on their haunches sipping tea from small glasses, just half a glass of strong tea called cutting chai, almost like an espresso. Some are chewing tobacco and beetle nut leaves, spitting red beetle nut juice on the floor, smoking strong tobacco leaf wrapped cigarettes called beedis.

Anxious travellers are queuing at the paper and snack vendor, eager to get what they need for their journey and get on the train, as the first warning whistle for the train’s departure has been blown. Newspapers, books and magazines bought, fruit, pakoras and samosas in brown paper bags, money and cigarettes hastily stuffed into pockets, childrens’ last-minute pleas for small toys for the journey ignored, the newspaper and all-purpose kiosk empties as quickly as it filled. Women folk sat at the window seats in their multicoloured saris with the most intricate bangles and bracelets covering their wrists and arms, some using their saris for veils pulled over their faces, urge their men to pass the children through the windows so as not to be left behind.