We arrived into Calcutta on the Vibhuti Express, which was lacking in both the vegetable biryani I'd ordered on board and punctual ticket inspectors (the guy turned up in the middle of the night, while everyone was sleeping, and promptly switched the light on). The train made up for these shortcomings in grime and mice, which were in abundance, the latter making cameo appearances dashing between the areas under the seats and the former liberally coating our beds higher up. I cleaned mine by dripping mineral water onto the bed's plastic surface and scrubbing away with already-read pages of Private Eye. These then went out the window, as subcontinental litter rules dictate. While I was trying to sleep, I pictured a villager chancing on the filthy pages while performing his trackside excretions in the morning: figurative dirt on British politicians and literal dirt from the passing Vibhuti Express.
Compulsory Calcutta touristy pictures, then: