The Doon Express: Overnight Train

"Yeah, I looked up the Doon Express on the internet, and the first sites said, "Horror stories on the Doon Express." I didn't want to scare anyone, so I didn't say anything."
He didn't read anything, either; he had closed the browser window, choosing the bliss of ignorance. In the autorickshaw, heading to our hotel in Varanasi, Navjot looked and sounded a little remorseful, unusual of his stoic demeanor. Here's the story of why.
Navjot and I sat in the 3rd AC sleeper, meaning our train car had AC and fans, and the beds are stacked 3 high in the compartments, and 2 high in the aisle. My slightly paranoid disposition led me to secure the highest bunk almost as soon as the train began moving. I returned to the open ground seat and had dinner; a vegetarian dinner plate prepared and sealed at the train station restaurant, which looked impressively clean, and the food appeared well-prepared. I did notice a few bugs crawling around our seats and the walls; Navjot said they were cockroaches, but they looked a little darker than the roaches I've seen in many houses and apartments here (but, thankfully, not at 602a Model Town!)
We went to our bunks around 10 pm. The train provides 1 sheet, 1 woolen blanket, and 1 pillow. Since I've noticed Indians sometimes staring at my feet on previous train rides, I took care to make sure that my toes (which faced the aisle) were completely covered by the blanket. I popped a sleeping aid, and slept fairly well, allowing for the occasional rolling bumps.
Yelling voices disturbed my sleep early the next morning. People spoke in Hindi, so I understood...nothing, especially when listening with drowsy ears. The train seemed still for longer periods than I'd expect from routine stops. At 6am, I was content to continue snoozing, and allowed these puzzles to remain unsolved.
Until I heard the yelling people dashing up and down our aisles.
Whooshing sounds, then cries and whimpers; I even heard a couple of screams.
These people are afraid, I thought. I inched myself back slowly against the back wall, and curled my legs.
All sleepiness disappeared. Are people trying to rob the train? Do these people have GUNS??
"Hide yourself. Don't move. Do not show yourself. Do not say anything." Navjot's quiet voice sounded steady and grave near my ear.
The aisle seemed to experience a brief calm.
"What is happening?" I whispered.
Navjot listened to the quiet car and relaxed slightly. "Students are rioting. They keep stopping the train, coming on board and harassing people. They do not want to take their 10th standard exams." (very important exams in India--these tests help determine their career path).
"Why would they do this?"
"I don't know, Bihar sucks (the state we were traveling though). They are just teenagers, but there are many of them, and these people won't stand up to them. If I had one other person, like Sonu (his cousin) here, we could shut off this car. But for now I've been guarding the compartment. Keep yourself hidden. Do not attract their attention."
My cubby near the ceiling made this an easy task. I remained practically invisible: something lumpy covered with a gray wool blanket. After two hours, we were moving without further delays.
Our traveling friends encountered a few more problems. One of them got smacked for his efforts to shut the kids up. The other was just harassed, the students pulled at her compartment curtains, and she had already been disturbed the previous evening, when she saw a mouse casually crouched next to her on the seat, as if they were buddies...
Somehow, upon our arrival in Varanasi, the sensationalist news crew found our traveling friends and Navjot. One interviewed Navjot as we hauled our heavy luggage down the stairs onto the train platform. There, the reporter included our traveling friends. I tried to avoid the camera lens, and noticed something creeping towards us from behind the stairs. A puddle of water. Was this sewage??
I began moving our luggage, our friends' luggage out of the way as best I could, hoping this interview would end quickly. The water reached our toes. At this point the group noticed the water, and we moved away.
The two ladies, Cailin and I, still ended up in front of a camera lens for a minute while we waited for the guys to finish talking to the reporter.
Soon we were headed for our hotel. I saw road rage for the first time, when a rickshaw driver got off his bike, walked to a guy sitting on a cart behind him, and started beating him on the back and arms. What a wonderful introduction to a holy city!!