IF you really want to shock people tell them you are travelling alone through India. Then say you did it mostly by train and they will ask if you are crazy. Or a fool.

Or both.

Within 30 seconds of striking up a conversation with an Indian girl in an airport on my way to Chennai, there it was. “Why are you travelling to India alone?”

I am now used to meeting raised eyebrows when talking about my experiences travelling as a single female in Northern India.

Which should be surprising given the significant number of intrepid woman — both locals and visitors — who travel the country on their own.

A combination of bad press, sensationalism, widely publicised incidents and a general lack of personal experience by many have branded India as a “risky” spot for lone travellers.

But was the bad press true?

A SHAKY START

Given dramatic warnings in the media, concern from kindly fellow travellers, and my own nagging fear, I arrived in India in January in a subconscious state of inner panic.

I needn’t have worried. Changing at Chennai airport, I immediately struck up a friendship with two other travellers who had connecting flights at the same time as mine, headed to yoga retreats in different parts of the country. I’ve found that India tends to do that: bring you friendly faces when you most need them.

This was not my first time in India, but it was my first time travelling alone. I’d be spending seven weeks travelling the country working with ethical travel companies, to feature on my travel blog; mainly in the desert state of Rajasthan.

The best way of travelling around India for me is by train. With a total of 119,000km of track, Indian Railways connects all corners of this vast country and arguably holds it together.

I’d be taking around 10 train journeys during my trip: some short, three-hour hops; the majority overnight sleeper trains with journey times of seven-plus hours.

THE TRAIN JOURNEYS

It started with a very civilised three-hour express train from Pune to Mumbai. Relaxing in my chair and gazing at the sun rise outside the window as the food wallahs passed through the car offering scrambled eggs and beans on toast (really), I thought — I’m in for some travel treats here.

Next up was an 18-hour stint on the Mumbai to Jaipur “Superfast” express. Arriving in India and needing to book trains one week out was a bit of a nightmare. Given that as many as 25 million people move around by train every day, they get sold out.

Reluctantly, I booked a first class ticket (about triple the price of the cheapest AC Class, but the only class that was not sold out).

First class luxury by international standards this was not.

I got a berth in a compartment of four, with locking door, and three (very) loudly snoring companions — one was the wife of a former government minister. I arrived exhausted — if amused — in Jaipur one and a half days later.

Midway into my travels around Rajasthan, it was time to move on from Jodhpur, the beautiful blue city, to Jaisalmer. Clambering onto to the three-tier AC carriage, I was surprised to find I’d been assigned lower berth as opposed to the Upper berth of the three-tier that I usually go for. (Why? As a female you’re out of reach and subject to far fewer prying eyes if you’re up two tiers than on the bottom berth).

Above me was a Chinese solo female traveller, opposite me was a tall Indian man who — I’d later find out — was in the army. Tired from getting on the train at midnight I quickly fell asleep.

I woke at about 3am to strange noises and the feeling that something was wrong. Sitting bolt upright on my bunk and pulling off my eye mask I found the man opposite me sitting on the edge of his bunk, eyes glued to me, masturbating.

Shouting at him, I ran off to find the carriage attendant, who was nowhere to be found. Returning to my berth I found the man now hiding under his sheet, and the girl above me awake and asking me what had happened. The rest of the night I spent sleepless on a spare upper berth at the other end of the carriage.

At about 6am the train attendant re-emerged, I reported the situation to him. He brought the man in question to apologise to me — and what followed was probably one of the most awkward moments of my life. I could not look him in the eye, nor could I accept his apology. I also did not want to take the matter further. If I’d reported him he would have lost his career.

I’ve never been so relieved to get off a train.

TRYING TO MOVE ON

In the days that followed in Jaisalmer I felt a deep distrust. Where I had previously been open and willing to think the best, I was now fearful of any man I came across.

My mind kept telling me was I dreaming, did I make the whole thing up? Most of all, I was angry for the incident spoiling my love of train travel.

Figuring that there was no time like the present to get over my fears and (literally) get back on the train, I booked a train to go back to Delhi the next day.

But it was not meant to be.

I arrived at Jaisalmer station at midnight (many trains leave in the middle of the night in India), only to hear announcements that my train was running 10 hours late. Which meant it would be arriving at 11am the following morning. It was too late to get in a rickshaw alone, no hotels were answering there phones, so there was one thing for it: to sleep in the station.

Fortunately, this is not an uncommon thing in India where trains can run days late. I sat down among the groups of people in the waiting rooms but sleep did not come. When it got light at around 7am I officially aborted mission and went to a hotel.

I cancelled my ticket to Delhi and instead got on a train to Bikaner in northern Rajasthan the following night, to connect onwards from there instead. Turns out, my original train to Delhi never did show up.

From Bikaner I joined a train for the 17-hour journey to Haridwar in Uttarakhand. Boarding my train I was immediately greeted by a friendly family sharing the same cluster of berths. Internally, I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Chatting away with their daughter for half the trip, this family shared their food with me, and even went and found the right bus to Rishikesh for me when we reached Haridwar.

This was the Indian train journey experience that travellers spoke of and wrote about. To this day the family have no idea how deeply grateful I am for their warmth on that journey, even though I am still in touch with their daughter.

WHAT I LEARNED ABOUT SOLO TRAVEL IN INDIA

When it comes to fear, my journeys around Rajasthan by train showed me that both sides of the story can be true — from dicey moments and missed connections to meeting new friends and re-finding my confidence.

But I believe that the hype and media sensationalism sets us up to be afraid of travel in India, and frankly, has a lot to answer for.

With a population of over 1.3 billion, both the best and worst are possible in India. Just like anywhere in the world. Just as I experienced in my train journeys.

Through my experience I was certainly reminded that travel is not always comfortable. But I was also reminded that what might seem trying to a traveller, is a reality that many people who live in a country have to face every day. For the 25 million Indians who travel daily by rail, trains running 10 hours late and sleeping at train stations is nothing to bat an eyelid at.

Globally, the media have highlighted sexual assault and harassment in India as a problem. Particularly for western girls. But the truth is that those most likely to be assaulted or raped in India are Indian women. Rapes happen to women in villages, sometimes even by family members and go unreported.

I also must highlight something from my own experience. Although my encounter was unpleasant, I never felt in danger or at risk of physical harm at any point.

SO WHY ARE WE SO AFRAID OF INDIA?

Travel in India as a (solo) woman requires a strong mindset, and enough flexibility to adapt to local customs (such as not going out at night alone in many places). Sometimes, we realise how vulnerable we are.

Fear is something we learn: for me the challenge of travel is to unlearn the fear that is not helpful.

My conclusion? I’m heading back to India next month. And yes, I’ll be taking the train.