In April 2007 we visited the Himalayan foothills of Himachal Pradesh. We got there by flying to Delhi, and thence by train to Amritsar, returning at the end from Kalka to Delhi. The furthest north we reached was the strangely named McLeodganj, headquarters of the Dalai Llama, and the highest point reached was at Chitkul, a village in the Sangla Valley 11000 feet up, lying close to the Chinese Tibetan frontier. This village had had no road access at all until the 1970s.

Delhi is a city fast modernising. The third metro line is now under construction.  Outside the city centre, the lines are elevated or at ground level. 

At Kashmiri Gate, there is an interchange between an elevated route and an underground line.

Within Old Delhi, there are still plenty of cycle rickshaws, and there are plenty of overcrowded buses, but these buses now run on non-polluting CNG, natural gas. The new metro is spacious and efficient. The track is broad gauge, with the electricity from overhead wires. The current google earth view of Connaught Place shows two cut and cover lines under construction. Powerful air conditioning keeps the trains cool, and remarkably everything is clean. Fares are graduated according to distance, with payment by tokens or smart cards. Because of terrorism threats, all bags are examined as you pass the turnstiles.

Building a new metro over a busy rail route would be difficult. This bridge was built last year with no disturbance to the seven track railway line beneath.

To get to Amritsar, we took the train. Indian railway stations always present a spectacle. Generally they are thronged with people, (often just sitting/lying/sleeping on the ground) and goods being loaded on to trains, a bit like railways in the U.K up to the 1950s.

The Shatabdi express.

"Executive Chair" class is really quite comfortable. Your name appears on a printed list at the coach door. Also your age. You get plenty of legroom. Moreover, you get fed. Nearly all the time. Cups of tea, sweetcakes. Soup. Lots of vegs. (It is generally preferable to claim you are vegetarian). Ice cream. This all comes in the price of a ticket: about £10 for 250 miles.

I watched the locomotive connect to the train.

After the brake pipe was connected, the railwayman secured the joint by tying string round it, just to be on the safe side.

Amritsar is famous as the site of the Golden Temple, the holiest shrine of the Sikh religion, visited by many pilgrims. The day on which we visited was Guru Nanak's birthday, so there were more than usual, about 100,000 - of which there were perhaps a dozen westerners. We received offerings, some sweet and tasty, we -nearly - sipped holy water (see picture), and we respectfully touched the threshhold of temple doorways.

The Sikh rejection of the caste system had some interesting consequences. All pilgrims were invited to eat, for free, at the temple kitchen, staffed by volunteers, that served thirty thousand meals every day. We wandered through the kitchen. Chapati were coming off a production line. Dhal (i.e. lentils with a passing resemblance to mushy peas) was being cooked and stirred in huge pots. For the washing up of the tin plates, a human chain conveyed the dishes to the sinks.

One cannot but respect such a practical religion. The day we were there was also the 88th anniversary of the massacre of Amritsar, in which unarmed protestors were shot down under the orders of a British commander. A group of schoolchildren had been brought to the memorial park, and we had a look at the pictures they had drawn (e.g. portraits of Gandhi). As Brits, we attracted the attention of press photographers, who clicked away madly.

That day also marked harvest festival, baisakhi, so it was a good day for parades. The most extraordinary spectacle that day for us took place a few miles away at the border with Pakistan. That border is probably the nearest thing to the Iron Curtain that exists in the 21st century, with no open crossings for hundreds of miles but at Attari there is the most bizarre chink in the curtain. The one road between India and Pakistan is open from 10am to 4pm, and each day the gate is closed and the flags of India and Pakistan lowered with great ceremony. The ceremony has achieved the status of public ritual, so grandstands have been erected on both sides of the border so that locals can witness the display. As crowds arrive, a cheerleader sets up the chant "Hindustan is best" and back comes the chant, right on cue, "Pakistan is best" from the white clad muslims on the other side. Carnival atmosphere. Then the guards, specially chosen for their height, ability to goose-step and general fierceness,  parade up and down. The gates are closed, the flags come down, with great care taken that neither is ahead of the other.

Next: McLeodganj