She wouldn&rsquot get on board. She stepped in and then stepped back. Beads of cold sweat appeared on her forehead. She was clearly petrified. &ldquoWhat&rsquos the matter&rdquo I asked. &ldquoIt&rsquos too long,&rdquo she replied. &ldquoWhat is long&rdquo &ldquoThe bus,&rdquo she complained. &ldquoWhere&rsquos the bus&rdquo I asked perplexed. We were both standing on the platform of Udhampur station. For miles around me were rolling hills and closer were dozens of security personnel, many passengers, no drinking water and immaculate rail tracks. I couldn&rsquot see a bus though. &ldquoThis is the bus,&rdquo she told me, pointing to the ochre-coloured DMU (diesel multi-purpose unit). &ldquoThat&rsquos the train we&rsquore going to board for Jammu,&rdquo I chuckled. She didn&rsquot agree.