While it was still dark, I got dressed, took an auto rickshaw, and arrived at the train station with time to spare. At 6am, the train would depart for the Araku Valley, a hill station about 115 km away from Vizag and located close to the border with Orissa. With an elevation of between 600 and 900 meters above sea level, this hill station of the Eastern Ghats lures visitors with its scenic beauty and pleasant climate. 
I had been told by others who had taken the trip that the ride to the valley was a treat in itself, and they were right. Through the open windows of the train, one could see the lush landscape of Andhra Pradesh. For the first couple of hours, the terrain was quite flat, dominated by rice paddies, palm trees, and fields of millet. Abruptly, the train began to climb. On one side of the train one could see the tree-covered hills and valley below. The view on the other side was mostly obscured by the stone hill around which the train tracked hugged. We passed through the first of many tunnels somewhere around 46 in all. From another train car we could hear the excited screams of schoolchildren as the length of the tunnel blocked out all light. A few tunnels after, the tour guide in our car turned off the light inside the train car, making everything totally dark. Occasionally a small waterfall cascaded down the rock surface. Once in a while things opened up and one could see the landscape from both sides of the train. Trees of the nearby hills were a dark green, while the distant ones were shrouded in atmospheric haze. Rivers and streams accented the green land. Pockets of terraced plots dotted the hills, eeking out available farming land. Hampered by the bars across the windows, some began standing next to the open train doors, really taking in the scenery. I also did this for a while, admiring the unfettered view. A few times the train stopped at small stations. Women balancing wide squat woven baskets on their heads emerged on the train, selling snacks and fruit. Young men carried their metal pots of coffee and chai, pouring the hot sweet liquid into small plastic cups for customers. Between the scenic ride and conversations with the pleasant Indian eye surgeon sitting next to me, the time went by quickly; I could have gone on for a while. Alas, we were at the last station, with the tourism busses waiting for us.
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