The Chennai Express Train route begins in southern India and passes through the endless plains of the Indian countryside. The mountainous terrain ahead is visible from afar as the train approaches the hillside town of Shimla. In the expanse, a traveler may observe somewhere an intermittent figure, perhaps a woman walking with pots of water stacked on her head towards a small village. The train would then begin to climb a shallow ridge. From there, we can see what appears to be a town at the foot of the hills in the distance, distorted by the heat. Beyond the railway line, parallel to the Ganga River, lies a town of gardens and European bungalows. Magnificent complexes built to house representatives of the British East India Company who lived in lavish style.* * *Harish Dube looked at himself in the mirror of the first class waiting room at Chennai railway station. He fixed a stray hair on his neatly trimmed mustache, straightened his Balliol tie and checked the back collar button of his Savile Row suit, eager to make an impression on his relatives in Shimla. The mirror was obviously made in India. Long lines of glass were cut where the red oxide had peeled off. He took a train ticket out of his front pocket. 'Mr. Harish (Harry) Dube, First Class, April 27, 1930” was written in its center. He laughed remembering how his companions in England called him Harry, unable to pronounce his Indian name. He checked the arrival of the train. He would arrive at the station at 5 p.m. Harish had acquired the manners and attitudes of the upper class. He almost never spoke Hindustani and loved his English, perfected at Oxford University. Harish was wondering if he would travel alone... in the middle of a paper... it doesn't matter, you have to go," the other retorted. "I have been accepted to travel in this car, and I insist that "You continue on board", said Harish, shocked by the behavior of the English towards him. “You must leave this car, otherwise I will have to call an official to evict you,” the soldier said. "Yes, you can. I refuse to go out on my own." The soldiers grabbed Harish by the arms and threw him off the train. They picked up his briefcase and newspaper and threw them on the platform after him. "I'm going to have you arrested! Guard!" he shouted angrily. The engine gave another short whistle. Harish looked up and looked out the windows of the train as it passed him at an accelerating pace, catching sight of the Indian lady as she spat out her betel leaf, sending a stream of red dribble flying across the platform like a dart.