“Are you an illiterate person?“ the old Karachi station master snootily replied to me, in perfect Oxford intonation, his stiff upper lip curling ever so slightly.

At that time my English was not so good yet, so I did not understand the term “illiterate“ and as a German I did not get how the fuck he could answer my question regarding trains to Rawalpindi with a counter question instead of just answering it anyway, but I was still in full command of my rude reflexes, so I snarled back.

“What?“
His eyes started to fill with indignation.
“Can´t you read?" he hissed.
"All the information you need is on that board there right in front of my office!“,
his right hand waving in the direction of the board, impatiently indicating that it was time for me to leave his office, NOW!

Ah those old Pakistani and Indian civil servants, stuck in bygone glories of the British Raj, always acting like they owned the fuckin´ place, they don´t make them anymore! 😝

In retrospect I was surprised that he did not greet me
with that alltime classic of Victorian arrogance
“Who the Dickens are you?“
That would have made my day!
So I left his office wordlessly and had a look at the board.

As amazing and unexpectedly adventurous my stay in Karachi had been, it was time to go north in search of cooler pastures. In a few days, classes at Goethe Institute would finish and then my teacher friend would be free to go to the mountains with me.
I was not quite sure which train to take, so I jotted down the details in order to discuss them with my friend.
When I returned to the Y, he was waiting for me there and surprised me with train tickets to Rawalpindi.
Oh that German efficiency had surely rubbed off on him! 😉

“I have booked seats on one of the better trains, a fast train“ he told me.
“For rich people“ he added smilingly.
So a few days later we went to the station to board our train to Rawalpindi.

Ever since I had read that Kipling verse I had planned on visiting Multan,
(never in the field of human conflict had I seen a better attempt at city marketing 😉)
but my friend was not interested in going to another hot place,
he was eager to get into the mountain regions.
So, being flexible sometimes also meant
I didn´t get to do some of the stuff I was planning to do.
I did not really mind and as we were walking along the platform
where our train was waiting already, my heart rejoiced in anticipation.

Then I saw the bullet holes!
The windows of the railway car we were just passing to get to the front of the train had been sprayed with bullets!
Damn, remember them bullet holes in the wall at Kuwait Airport?
The writing on the wall had just caught up with me!

“What the hell is that?“ I asked my friend, pointing at the bullet-riddled windows.
“Sometimes bandits try to stop the train.“ he said totally matter-of-factly.
“What?“
“I told you, it´s a train on which rich passengers are travelling, so bandits want to rob the train.“

While India might be incredible, Pakistan sometimes is simply breathtaking!
I looked at him in utter disbelief.

“But don´t worry, there are soldiers travelling on the train too, they will shoot back!“
Wow, that sounded reassuring.
“Couldn´t you have got us on a train with poor passengers, but no bandits?“
“No, that´s not safe, no soldiers there.“ he laughed.

My feet started to slow down, not sure anymore if they really wanted to board that train heading for the Pakistani version of Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid.

“Come on, hurry up! I´ll show you!“ my friend urged me on.
We walked all along the train to the very front of it toward the locomotive.
Not all windows had bullet holes, now that was good news, just got to pick the right car.

And there they were!
Right behind the locomotive there was an open railway car with steel sideboards, two heavy machine guns and a bunch of Pakistani soldiers, most of them sleeping. The few awake flashed me a victory sign, and the apparent clown of the group gave me a reassuring “No worries, mate!“ making his comrades burst into laughter.

“See? No problem!“ my friend beamed,
grabbing me by the shoulders and walking me to our compartment.
Soon after we had settled into our seats and got acquainted with the other passengers,
the train pulled out of the station.