Northward on the Jan Shatabdi

As I’m writing, Becky and I are traveling north on the Jan Shatabdi train through the Indian countryside. Overall the train ride has been pleasant. We’re riding with assigned seats in an air-conditioned car which makes a big difference when the ambient temperature is 90+. The 2nd class commuter trains we saw when getting ready to leave from the Delhi train station were packed and I was concerned that our first attempt at booking our own train ticket might have yielded us more of an “adventure” than I’d signed up for. The commuter car was standing room only and the barred windows made the passengers inside look like prisoners as they hung their limbs outside grasping for fresh air. Even more concerning was the process by which excess passengers were literally pushed onto the train as it began to inch northward out of the station. When we made our way over to platform 11 and saw our accommodations I was much relieved. Now I’d say that our train is hardly luxurious by US standards, and on account of the roaches, I’d put it just below a greyhound bus in terms of luxury, but compared to what I’ve seen, I’m quite content with our current mode of transport.
As we pass through town, city, fields and then the next towns I’m struck by the cultural transformation that appears to be going on here. Juxtaposed I see industrial buildings with solar panels on the roof adjacent to rural fields of wheat where day laborers work tirelessly in the hot sun to harvest bundles of grain. Wheat is a huge part of the Indian economy and I was told that India produces much of the world's wheat supply globally.
At each train station we make a brief pause long enough to see the little heads of children bobbing past as they play or collect empty bottles on the tracks below the station platform. When the train picks up speed we pass through shanties with tarps draped over poles for rooftops and sari-clad Indian women walking barefoot along dirt paths. The train buzzes further and we pass a pool of filthy standing water where emaciated holy cows graze through multicolored human waste in search of nutrients. I find myself wondering why someone doesn’t take care to feed the cows, given their holy status in India, but I suppose mere mortals aren’t intended to intervene in such matters.
In many of the more rural fields there are two other types of man-made structures. What I think are clay or manure conical structures about 10 feet in diameter and 8 feet tall might serve as either storage, stoves or maybe even small residences. I’ll have to ask someone. The second structure is brick, and cube-like about 10 feet on all sides. The windows and electricity lines which characterize a percentage of these structures lead me to believe that these are likely to be residences.
Our fellow passengers in the first class car are quite friendly. Several coordinated in their best English to juggle assigned seats so that Becky and I can now sit together. They helped us to procure a cold Pepsi from the vendor passing through the cabin and watched to ensure we got proper change. The woman behind us truly represents the future of India. A middle aged woman, well dressed and poised, for the past 5 years has worked to help impoverished children get educated and to provide scholarships for as much as 10% of new enrolling classes in private school. She has also worked with an organization to improve the working conditions of many of India’s factories by encouraging companies to think long term about their employee’s health and improve air quality by installing systems to remove pollutants from the air inside the buildings. We enjoyed speaking together for some time but I figured I’d relax for the remainder of the trip and take some time to jot down my thoughts.