We had caught the Darjeeling bound train from the squalid station of Siliguri after a sleepless overnight bus journey from Katmandu and it had felt grand to find the whole compartment to ourselves. Although after a little while when the train was about to pull out from the station people were all in the seats and some were standing all down the narrow corridor. .
We reached Darjeeling when part of the sun got behind the mountains. The train slowly passed through the outskirts of the town following the twisted blacktopped road where there was little traffic. Finally the train pulled in at a little station. We jumped off the train into the cemented platform and walking around aimlessly for a while paused in at a small restaurant and got us warm teas and shared some cigarettes. It was very cold and mist had settled over the town. This seemed to give the impression of a town as if lying deep in gloom - just like when it was on my last visit. .
After the rain stopped we came into the center of the town walking down the narrow ruined street that went a long way through juxtaposition houses, elegant old cottages, ruinous buildings and array of shops. It was nearly dark and the weather was chilly so we decided to check into a hotel. We got a nice one across from the market. It was cheerful and clean and our room's window looked out into the well-lit streets of the market below and the bright lights from the town's top ridge. After we had a slight meal we felt sleepy and tired and flopped into our beds. It rained all that night. .
We got up early the next morning and went outside to see the town stirring. It was cold, foggy morning (one could smell it) the dew settled on our heads and the cheeks felt coarse with hands. The narrow streets were grubby and slimy with yesterday's rain and the passing vehicles splashed mud. We went around the hill cart road and saw it come alive with the frenetic bustle and noise of people and traffic.