Rough trip ... don't expect to be looking like a Bollywood star after a second-class train ride.Credit: Anders Blomqvist/Lonely Planet
Like many of his male compatriots, the Indian railway ticket officer had a perfectly manicured moustache.
When I asked him for a ticket on that day's train from Goa to Mumbai, I couldn't help noticing how it quivered as the full force of his laughter reverberated around his little booth.
"You want one today?" he asked, when his glee had subsided.
"Yes please."
"Ha! Absolutely impossible, sir. Fully booked, you see."
"What, so there are no seats at all?"
"Well – there is second class."
Until now, my travels around India had always been in first class; comfy, reclining seats by day and sleeper carriages by night. For a country renowned for chaos, I had been surprised by how efficient and orderly it was, so I was confident second class couldn't be that bad.
The following 12 hours were, however, the most excruciating and uncomfortable of my life. From the moment the train pulled up at 6pm, when seemingly half of India made for the second-class carriage, to the moment I got off at Mumbai at 6am, I was shell-shocked. I was also the only Westerner in my carriage.
On either side of it were rows of hard, wooden benches suitable for four people. On this journey, they would host eight bodies apiece. The luggage rack above me was loaded with fat men. One was wearing grubby socks, which regularly fluttered before my face. More passengers and bags swamped the floor space where my feet were supposed to go.
I was sandwiched between a grouchy pensioner and a young man called Sanjay. He was a shifty character and I wasn't sure whether he was trying to genuinely befriend me, or was waiting until I fell asleep to rob me. There were no worries on this score, though. Sleeping in these conditions was impossible.
Not so for the man opposite. As he dozed, his nose unwittingly bobbed up and down on the bare back of a middle-aged woman. She initially looked appalled, then her expression softened and she ended up looking as if she was enjoying herself.
During the night we passed station after station, where men jogged next to the train humming "chai chai chai" and dozens more passengers waited to board. Even the Indians groaned at the over-crowding.
When at last we pulled into Mumbai, I must have looked like the living dead. Desperate for sleep, I headed to my hotel. Near the reception stood a suited man, who had gleaming teeth and a business card advertising Bollywood Stars was looking for extras. "Three-day shoot. Expenses paid. One thousand rupees a day. You interested?"
I'd always wanted to be a Bollywood star but I wasn't fit to stand, let alone act. I brushed off his offer and went to bed, haunted by my experience of travelling second class in India.
Sign up for the Traveller Deals newsletter
Get exclusive travel deals delivered straight to your inbox. Sign up now.