We had been on that dumpy train for more than three days. The heat was stifling.

During the night, the breeze lowered the temperature of the car; And I say the breeze because that damn train did not run much more than 40 kilometers. We watched the landscape pass before our eyes in slow motion. In the deadliest hours, we entertained ourselves by naming the other passengers who, under those multicolored turbans, were among the most varied. It was fun. Anything to abstract from that slow and soporific heat. At night we didn't rest much either. At all hours you shuddered with the serious screams of the vendors who continually boarded the train offering their merchandise. Others wandered from wagon to wagon with a jerry can loaded on their backs, and at Chaai's cry offered a kind of red tea that they served in filthy brass cups.

           Every time the train stopped at a station, we would shake you.

     It was in Jaipur that mid-morning the train broke down. Four hours in destructive heat. I looked at the fans that, anchored to the ceiling, only worked with the energy of the running train. In my delusions, I was stunned with a dry mouth and, before closing my eyes and passing out, I imagined that they were green and that they emit a mint breeze instead of black and filthy as rats.

     When I woke up, we were in the land of the kings, and we had already left behind the palace of the winds.

contens © Ginés Castillosite by Bluekea