The Chennai Express train route begins in southern India and passes through the endless plains of the Indian countryside. The mountainous terrain ahead can be seen from afar as the train approaches the hill city of Shimla. In the expanse, a traveler may observe an intermittent figure somewhere, perhaps a woman walking with pots of water resting on her head towards a small village. The train would then begin to climb a shallow ridge. From here you can see what appears to be a city at the foot of the hills, in a distance distorted by the heat. Beyond the railway, which runs parallel to the Ganges River, is a city of European gardens and bungalows. Magnificent complexes built to house representatives of the British East India Company living in lavish style.* * *Harish Dube looked at himself in the mirror of the first-class waiting room at the Chennai railway station. He adjusted a stray hair in his well-groomed moustache, smoothed his Balliol tie and checked the back button on the collar of his Savile Row suit, eager to impress his relatives in Shimla. The mirror was obviously made in India. Long strips of glass were cut where the red oxide had broken off. He pulled a train ticket out of his front pocket. 'Mr. Harish (Harry) Dube, First Class, 27 April 1930' was written in the centre. He chuckled as he remembered 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 train station at 5pm. Harish had acquired the manners and attitudes of the upper class. He almost never spoke Hindustani and liked his English, refined no less than at Oxford University. Harish wondered if he would travel alone... middle of paper... it doesn't matter, you have to go," retorted the other. "I have been accepted to travel in this carriage, and I insist on 'Something is happening,' he said Harish, shocked by the behavior of the English towards him. “You must leave this carriage, otherwise I will have to call an officer to throw you out.” said the soldier. "Yes, you can. I refuse to come down on my own." The soldiers grabbed Harish by his arms and threw him out of the train. They took his briefcase and newspaper and threw them onto the platform behind him. "Ridiculous! I'll have you arrested! Guard!" he shouted angrily. The locomotive gave another short whistle. Harish looked up and stared out the windows of the train as it passed him at an ever-faster pace, catching a glimpse of the Indian lady as she spat out her betel leaf, sending a spray of red slime flying across the platform like a dart..