Losing it in India

So far in my trip I have been lucky, with no mechanical mishaps or bad incidents. My ambition to travel on an Indian train has changed all that.
After riding my bike to Nagpur in central India I wanted to catch a train to Goa (for a change of scenery). The train went from Bhopal - about  150 miles away - so  I thought I would do a practice run on a train to see how the system worked.
Upon reaching Bhopal (at 10:30 at night), there was no sign of my bike. A visit to the luggage office confirmed it had not been taken off the train and was on its way to Delhi. They told me to come back at 9 in the morning to see what to do. No. I kicked off with them and got to see the manger who made the necessary  calls to get my bike taken off at the next stop (I hoped).
Next - where to stay? Indian railway stations have "resting rooms" , the manager booked me into one of these until 8 the next morning.
At 7:30 and again at five to eight a man knocked  on the door claiming it was eight o'clock and the room was his. I got angry, he went away.
After bludgeoning my way through more Indian inefficiency finally a man emerged on the crowded platform pushing my mighty bike.
Now I needed a ticket for Goa. Some kind Indians helped, but there were no tickets available. One of the helpful Indians said he was an agent and could get me a ticket for a small fee. Cutting a long story short, he ran out of the reservation  office and disappeared with my 3000 rupees. I reported it to the police, we could track him up to a point on cctv, but then he got away.
I was not so lucky. It too four police officers 6 hours to file my simple report.
I'm still stuck in Bhopal. You might ask why I don't ride out? Two reasons for this, firstly, normal Indian roads are busy, bumpy, noisy and dangerous. I have been using a new dual carriageway toll road which is smooth, scenic and relatively  safe. But this good road does not run from Bhopal. Secondly, I still want a have a proper Indian train journey.
I am on the waiting list for tomorrow's train, so fingers crossed.

India - Pictures I did and didn't take.

Everywhere you look in India there is a photograph  waiting to be taken. The towns, countryside and people shimmer with colour, vibrancy and variety. It is reminiscent of the stunning photography in National Geographic  magazine. People live their lives right in front of you. Yet despite this I took few pictures.
Pictures I didn't take:
1) Choking pollution. Riding out of the crystal clarity of the Himalayas I was soon smothered in India's industrial smog. Factories billowing  brown clouds, trucks belching black exhaust, roadside fires of litter adding to this acrid mix. The sky was a gritty, dirty brown. The sun was a meek orange disc. At every crossroads there was traffic anarchy. Indians put the bus stations and taxi ranks at these cauldrons of chaos for added drama. And dogs dodge death (usually) and sacred cows stroll calmly through this bedlam, pausing occasionally  to eat rubbish.
I thought every Indian town would be this bad, so didn't capture this post apocalyptic scene on film.
2) Everyday  beauty. The industrial zone around the city of Jammu gave way to vast plains of lush green paddy fields framed by silvery irrigation channels. Women in bright red, green and gold saris  toiled in the fields or walked homeward balancing bundles of firewood on their heads. They seemed to live their lives largely separate from the men - who sit in tea houses chatting. It didn't seem right to photograph them.
3) Bathtime. Beside many roadside cafes there is often a large open tank of water. Locals and lorry drivers strip to their underpants and wash themselves and their clothes. Good to see this level of hygiene, but I guessed photography would be inappropriate.
4) Schoolchildren. In some rural areas the government give girls cycles to ride to school. So you see processions of girls weaing nun like uniforms riding old fashioned style bikes - all gleaming in the early morning sunlight.
Smaller children are squeezed into tiny 3 wheeled tuk tuks. Ten children fit into each, with the rear row facing backwards, we wave and say hello when we overtake each other.
5) Basic, rural villages. Clusters of simple huts, with clean swept yards. Oxen tethered close by, chicken roaming free. Women pumping water from nearby wells, toddlers playing in the dust, school age children tending meagre flocks of goats. I wouldn't like it if tourists took pictures of me in my normal life, I afford the same respect and privacy to the villagers.
6) A tiger. See below.
Now for photographs I did take:   

On average, one truck a day crashes OVER the edge in the Himalayas

This kind man let me ride his Roayal Enfield Bullet, 350cc

Taj Mahal, Agra, nr Delhi. Sublime.

No tiger. But I did see a wild leopard  - you will have to look closely.

The Himalayas

The Zoji La pass on my return leg

Riding over my first Himalayan  pass at Zoji La was a brutal baptism. My legs were still sore from the previous day's 80 km climb to the glacier resort of  Sonmarg. The air at 3500 metres was noticeably  thinner, especially when carting my ladened bike on a rough uphill track. What wasn't rock was mashed to mud by convoys of army trucks heading in the opposite direction.One section was so steep that  I got off to push, but sticky mud was wedged between  the mudguards and the tyres so I couldn't manage. I had to get back on and pedal with all the force my wasted muscles could muster.
After cresting the snow covered summit there was a dramatic transformation in the scenery. Instead of the alpine look of the Kashmiri  Himalayas, the Ladakhi side was naked, multi-hued rock with occasional patches of golden poplar trees.
I stayed the night in the dirty, bleak town of Drass. Its the second coldest town on earth with an average winter minimum  temperature  of -45 c. The next town had an internet cafe, the weather forecast showed I had one more sunny day, then snow. So I ditched my bags at a clean hotel and rode  the unladened bike up to the village of Mulbech. In just 25 miles the culture went from entirely  islamic to predominantly  Buddhist  - with prayer flags and prayer wheels and ancient statutes of Buddha.
To beat the snow I retraced my route in a shared taxi. We stopped in a town for tea break - so I thought. Suddenly there was a stampede  of people surging past the cafe. A fellow passenger shouted through the open door "The pass has opened!" So I too rushed for our taxi. Then there was a mad race with cars, minibuses and trucks jostling for position on the broken road. Going back over the pass was a bit dicey, as the weather conditions were grim. The pass is blocked a lot in the winter.
I returned to the houseboat in Srinigar, to sort out my washing and a new route south to warmer sunshine.

Sunshine  on the way in