ADVENTURE: York psychiatrist Bob's second passage to India

Heading south the train rocked and swayed past buffaloes, paddies, patches of water and snatches of distance. Signs flashed by in yellow Hindi, then palm trees and banana trees. We were on our way to Cochin, the capital of Kerala. Having just arrived at the town of Divine Nagar, I estimated that we had about an hour to go.

Last time I visited India I was in search of family history. On this occasion I was on holiday with my wife Barbara. We were heading down the west coast from Mumbai (Bombay) before crossing the sub-continent to our final destination, Chennai (Madras) on the east coast. It was the end of January 2017 and we had two and a half weeks.

Arriving earlier at Mumbai International Airport in the early hours we had braved the crowds to find a taxi. Mumbai grows on you after a time. As you approach the city centre, slums and skyscrapers, cranes and wooden scaffolding give way to crumbling colonial stucco buildings with rusting balconies. Yellow and black taxis fill the streets and pavements become market stalls.

We caught our first overnight train, two nights later, from possibly the most impressive railway station in the world, the SVT, formerly the Victoria Terminal. Think St. Pancras Station and add towers, domes and cupolas. Merge Mughal with gothic, and then enlarge it all. When we located our train, we found our names, and ages, on a typed list on the carriage door.

The 'most impressive railway station in the world', the SVT

On the train we chatted to our fellow travellers, a delightful Parsi couple who were travelling to their house in Goa. It is a bit of a lottery who you end up sharing your compartment with on an Indian train. On our second leg, from Goa to Kerala, we were less fortunate. Barbara was kept awake all night by the man opposite her. He coughed, snorted and snored without a break. But she had insisted on having the bottom bunk...

Our first stop was the ex-Portuguese colony of Goa. To experience faded hippydom, and avoid package tours and Russians, we had arranged to stay for two nights at Anjuna Beach. It was all that we expected it to be, apart from a noise curfew at 10.00pm, which caused everything to shut down for the night.

We loved the Wednesday market, the rutted red mud streets and the German Bakery, which served whole foods and lassis. We took a taxi to the ‘new’ capital, Panjim, and then ‘old’ capital, Old Goa (only churches remain). It was here that we visited the tomb of Saint Francis Xavier. He was still there, after more than four centuries, his body just visible through the glass of his mausoleum in the Basilica of Bom Jesus.

A woman selling spices at Anjuna market

Our taxi driver had to ask directions to our next stop, the Church of Our Lady of the Mount. But when we eventually got there he became excited as he recognised it as the backdrop from many Bollywood movies. There was a beautiful view from the top. Then he deposited us in the dark at the deserted Kamali Station where we waited hours for our train. During the wait we were kept on our toes by packs of dogs, huge bats circling around our heads and regular power cuts.

Our next stop was Cochin, the capital of Kerala, 470 miles and fifteen hours south. Cochin is the star of the ‘Real Marigold Hotel, Series 2’, currently showing on the BBC. It is cosmopolitan with Hindu temples, mosques, synagogues and Christian churches dotted around its wide, colourful streets.

We stayed at a ‘Homestay’, a bit like a bed and breakfast: a placid and a welcome oasis after visiting the pungent fish market and Chinese Nets. The latter are huge wooden structures with nets operated using a counterweight hauled by several men. Cormorants sat in lines, waiting for their share.

The Chinese nets at Cochin

Our next train took us northeast to Coimbatore and then, after a short night and early rise, to Metapalayam to catch the Nilgiri Mountain Railway to Ooty, a hill station 6500 feet up.

Ooty must have changed a lot since it was known as ‘Snooty Ooty’ in the days of the Raj. The centre is noisy now with traffic and fumes and is rather an overdeveloped mess. But there are still havens of relative quiet such as St Stephen’s Church, the tea factories and the colourful botanical gardens further up the hill. The locals have made the gardens their own adding colourful statues and notice boards, presumably to replace more staid, British ones.

The Nilgiri mountain railway

Our previous two hotels, in Coimbatore and Ooty, had been very basic - although what can you expect for under £20 per night? It was therefore wonderful to arrive at Mysore and check into the Hotel Metropole, a classical mansion that had originally been built by the Maharaja in the early 20th Century to house important British guests.

Mysore is a small city with wide boulevards, sumptuous palaces, and roundabouts. It was one of the highlights of our trip. We visited the flower and fruit market and enjoyed the view from the top of Chamundi Hill, famous for its Hindu temple and fifteen-foot high statue of Nandi (Shiva’s bull).

The Mysore flower market

We also visited Srirangapatna, scene of the defeat of Tippu Sultan, the Tiger of Mysore, by the combined armies of the British and their Indian allies in 1799. Arthur Wellesley, the future Duke of Wellington, commanded part of the army.

I did a search of the Garrison Cemetery, not easy to find as it was hidden down an overgrown dirt track, past a wood and a polluted stream, and finally through a ‘locked’ gate. Unfortunately I did not come across any family graves.

The Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple, Srirangapatna (Seringapatam)

Feeling refreshed after four days at the Metropole, we left Mysore to travel the final 310 miles by train, a Shatabdi Superfast Express, to Chennai (Madras) via Bengaluru (Bangalore). Bengaluru is the IT capital of India. Next time you ring up your bank, if you speak to a lady with an Asian accent, the chances are she will be talking to you from an office in this city.

The Shatabdi was the best train of our trip. It took a mere seven hours to get us to our destination and it was clean and comfortable. And ‘Meals on Wheels’ had been outsourced to provide a constant supply of excellent food and snacks, all included in the ticket.

So, after two weeks of travel we finally arrived at Chennai for two nights stay before our flight home. In 1640 the English East India Company had made a deal with the local ruler to build a trading post and fort at the village of Madraspatnum. This became Fort St. George. We looked around the fascinating Fort Museum, originally the Officer’s Mess, and then took an auto-rickshaw down the baking Marina Beach to visit San Thome Cathedral and pay our respects to St Thomas the Apostle. Yes, another saint. That’s two saint’s tombs in one holiday. Not bad.

• It is surprisingly easy to book Indian trains. All you have to do is contact the Indiarail office in London and they will do it for you for a reasonable price (£150 each for two weeks of travel first class, including two overnight sleepers and the Shatabdi Superfast Express). Bob and Barbara flew by Emirates from Newcastle, changing at Dubai. British Airways fly direct from Heathrow. They arranged all their accommodation through well-known internet booking agencies.