The slowest train journey in India

The Bollywood movie Dil Se may have opened to a lukewarm response at the Indian box office, but one of the song sequences from the movie remains a favourite melody 25 years on. Chaiyya Chaiyya isn’t just memorable just for its catchy tune, but also because it was shot entirely on top of a moving train. Indian heartthrob Shah Rukh Khan pranced around with a group of backup dancers as the train chugged slowly across lush hilly terrain, past tea plantations and over tall viaducts, steam billowing from the old-fashioned engine.

I, too, have travelled on this very train, although my journey was far more comfortable and less precarious than Khan’s. The Nilgiri Mountain Railway (Nilgiri translates to “blue mountain” after the bluish hue the sun casts on the hills), which locals refer to as NMR or more fondly as the “toy train”, is a delightful example of the cliché about the journey being the destination.

Running though Tamil Nadu State, the train is the slowest in India due to an extremely steep gradient on the route. It takes nearly five hours to cover a distance of 46km, climbing from the town of Mettupalayam at the foothills of the Nilgiris up to the hill town of Udhagamandalam – amended by British tongues to Ootacamund and then shortened by Indians to Ooty. The downhill ride back cuts an hour, but the journey by road takes just a fraction of that time.

Clearly, nobody uses the NMR to get from A to B, but for the sheer joy of riding in a train that passes through 16 tunnels, 250 bridges and 208 steep curves on the richly biodiverse Western Ghats mountain range, a Unesco World Heritage site.

Armed with a first-class ticket that cost Rs 600 (about £6), I boarded the blue train at Ooty on a chilly morning, eager to experience this quintessential Nilgiris experience. (A second-class ticket is less than half the price, but without the light cushioning on the seats).

D Om Prakash Narayan, senior public relations officer with Southern Railway, which operates the train, told me, “When you get into the train, it is like you enter another dimension.”

I could see what he meant when I boarded the tiny coach. Families with children were crowded around the boxy windows, waiting for the promised views of the Nilgiris. There was a palpable sense of excitement among passengers, with everyone in a holiday mood, cheering and clapping when the train went through dark tunnels.

Ooty is one of India’s oldest hill stations – these towns at higher elevations were the summer retreats of the British Raj when they needed to escape the stifling heat of the plains – and remains popular among Indian tourists looking for a cool holiday or honeymoon. Today it’s a crowded little town, with vestiges of colonialism hidden within the chaos of urban India. But as we left Ooty behind, reminders of the British Raj began to make an appearance, with station names like Lovedale, Wellington, Adderly and Runnymede.

“It all feels unchanged from the British times, like time has stopped here,” said Sharanya Sitaraman, who recently travelled on this train with her family. “We almost could imagine European ladies with fancy hats getting off the train at these small stations.”

Remnants of the Raj are particularly seen in the colonial design of several old buildings across the Nilgiris: offices, bungalows (some of which are now boutique hotels) and churches. The colonial feel is so evocative that Coonoor station, just an hour down from Ooty, became part of the fictional town of Chandrapore in David Lean’s 1984 film adaptation of EM Forster’s novel, A Passage to India.”People on this train still see the same things that people saw more than 100 years ago,” said retired journalist D Radhakrishnan, who reported for decades from the Nilgiris region.

BBC