This morning John and I were up before dawn slogging along the Mumbai pavements, complete with backpacks and day packs. By 5 am we were on the road to the station for our train to Aurangabad, negotiating sleeping bodies and waking the local canines who announced our presence with a rousing woof- round. Fortunately, it's only a 5-minute walk to the CST station( the famous Chivrapati Shivaji terminus) from the Travellers inn, a journey made easier by the absence of cars and commuters.

On arrival, with our pre-paid e-tickets we made our way to the luggage scanner. No queues, no hassle, we were soon in the main concourse and ready to figure out our next move. As this was to be our first long-distance train, we had chosen to book AC seats in second class for the seven-hour journey. We had heard that seat numbers in this class are allocated an hour before departure and posted on lists on the sides of the train, so the first job was to find out where we were to sit. Leaving John with the backpacks I sweated my way along the steamy platform (23 degrees at 5.15 am) looking to find the infamous pasted lists, which were nowhere to be found. OK- next step, find the enquiries office. The clerk checked my e-ticket on the computer and informed me we were in carriage C1 seats 70 and 73. Armed with this information I mobilised John, and complete with backpacks off we went along the platform. By the time we got to the carriage someone had pasted the lists of seat holders on the outside- but not with our names on (unless Rohan and Patel are our Indian equivalents). So after checking the lists on all the carriages of the train from this one to the front of the train- some 15 carriages, and learning lots of new Indian names in the process I came to the conclusion that our names were not there. Now, those of you familiar with the Indian rail system will be aware of the various classes of tickets on Indian trains and the system of waitlist tickets. I was pretty confident that we had confirmed seats, although there was a slight concern that for some reason our online booking hadn't made it to the little man responsible for typing out the lists. I hastened back to enquiries, leaving John hot and slightly bothered on the platform standing next to the train. This time the clerk wrote it down. It transpired we were in CE1 not C1, the carriage before the one we had originally been told, and hence the only list we hadn't looked at. Panic over, and with 20 minutes to spare we settled down for our first long-distance Indian rail journey.

We were an hour out of Mumbai before the sun rose and revealed the countryside to us. There followed a panorama of trees and greenish fields viewed through the brown tinge of the carriage windows. As the train moved away from Mumbai we made a number of stops at some of the larger stations- Dadar, Thane, and Kylan. By the time we pulled out of Kylan the carriage was full of chattering young Indians, complete with boxes bags and suitcases. Wallahs continued to walk through the carriage shouting the names of their various wares- Chai (tea), Panni (water) and other things I have no hope of spelling as I haven't a clue what they said. The ticket collector had finished checking off the passengers against his computer sheet by the time breakfast arrived. The breakfast was in fact surprisingly tasty - a veg cutlet or omelette between two slices of buttered bread. We have just ordered lunch too, which apparently today is veg biriani - maybe this Indian train thing isn't a bad idea after all.

As we speed further inland the landscape has also changed and is now more fertile, with rows of what appear to be grapevines, and small areas of ground neatly planted with rows of flowers, corn and other crops. Periodically we can see bullocks pulling ploughshares across the ground, or women crouched down tending the crops. The industry here seems to be to predominantly crop-based, although every now and again there are small groups of goats here and there. If you want to check exactly where we are I can tell you we have just stopped at a station called Lasalgaon, and a few more passengers have joined the train.

After a short stop for new passengers and platform snacks, the train shakes on towards scrubbier terrain. To an area populated by very dark-skinned, colourfully clad, people tending skeletal cows and goats on the unyielding ground. We pass a small village of wooden constructions, where dusty paths join houses together and lead further on to small pits of semi burned rubbish.

It's impossible to capture these sites on film due to the murkiness and caramel tinge of the Windows, but I'm sure you get the picture. No sooner have we passed the village than we travel towards more arable land again, with stone replacing wood as the building material of choice.

We pass slowly through Ankai station, not stopping this time, the train already full to capacity as we rumble towards Aurangabad 90 minutes, and a biriani away.