The Interesting Sights and Places along Yangon Circular Train Line, Myanmar

photography by: Shozeb Haider

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Myanmar's largest metropolis and economic heart, Yangon lost its capital title to the pre-planned city of Naypyidaw in 2010, yet largely remains the country's center of cultural and commercial activity. Unlike other major cities across southeast Asia, the modernization process of Yangon is painstakingly slow, making it an unconventional city with unparalleled sights, sounds and smells. Interestingly, one of the city's main highlights is its colonial era railways. Constructed during the British rule, Yangon's Circular Line provides an epic experience that far eclipses its merit as a mean of transportation.

Early morning thundershowers had just stopped as suddenly as they had started. Some dark patchy clouds still threatened an already exacerbated humid morning, as I dashed across a large empty car park into the porte-cochère of the railway station. The Yangon Central was first built in 1877 and when the advancing Japanese forces threatened British defenses in World War II, they destroyed the Victorian building and retreated to India.

 

It was then rebuilt in 1954, in traditional Burmese architecture using multi-tiered roofs that are typically seen in royal palaces, Buddhist monasteries and on top of pagodas. Four towers, topped by golden-gilded spires interspaced with green roofs impart a distinctive character to the crumbling grandeur of the old colonial building.

Yangon central train station with its Burmese style façade

photography by: Shozeb Haider


At one end of the central concourse, is a set of closed windows, presumably for selling tickets. Above the closed window, were directions to platform 7. At the other end of the hall are rows of seats for waiting passengers. They are empty at this hour, since most trains leave in the evening. The public space is cordoned off from the platforms by metal grille lattice barriers. The gate is safely secured with chains and a strong lock to prevent any trespassing.

 

A sign above read, “Warmly welcome and take care of tourists”. Two young girls had just finished mopping the concourse. The stench of antiseptic from the wet floor filled the air. I ran through the hallway, avoiding a slip, across the foot over bridge and down to platform 7. If I missed the 6:10 train, the next one was not due for another two hours.

The empty rows of seats in the waiting hall

photography by: Shozeb Haider


The circular line is the closest thing that resembles a mass transit in Yangon. The British-built railway line loops around for 45.9 kilometers, linking 39 suburban stations to the capital, in 3 hours. Although very slow and a constant source of frustration for the daily commuters, the Yangon circular has acquired a cult status among the tourists. For decades, it has provided the most authentic way to experience the chaos of everyday life of Yangoonies. A small booth on platform 7 sold tickets. It is possible to get off at any station and continue the journey on the following train. The next train however, could arrive anytime between 3 minutes to 3 hours, I was told.

The convoluted railway track system near the station

photography by: Shozeb Haider


While the rest of the Yangon station was sleep walking in to their day, platforms 6 and 7 were already abuzz with activity in anticipation of the arriving train. Apart from a few odd tourists, the station was possessed by daily railway dwellers that went about their routine, completely oblivious of their surroundings, including giant rats that were running around the tracks, gnawing at the left-over waste.

A barefoot woman reading a daily newspaper while waiting for her train

photography by: Shozeb Haider


A hard-hat wearing hawker was strolling up and down the platform trying unsuccessfully to sell hand-woven baskets. Commuters, men and women alike, dressed identically in shirts, lungyi and rubber sandals sitting in a motionless squat, engrossed in their daily bulletin reminded me of an old Burmese saying – “Nothing happens in Burma, but then nothing is expected to happen”. The train was already half an hour late.

A hawker trying to relentlessly sell his merchandise, large woven baskets

photography by: Shozeb Haider


Out of nowhere, a man jumped across the tracks towards the junction box. This coincided with a spontaneous flurry of activity on the platform, signaling the imminent arrival of the train. Shortly a 1964 German-made diesel engine hauling four run-down carriages appeared on the platform. Before the train came to a halt, huge bundle of goods was flying through the windows and vendors dived headfirst. This somersault skill perfected as an adaptation to acquire the best of the uncomfortable wooden seats left the patient tourists duped. Within minutes, the entire platform was inside the compartments and the bustle doubled. As the train moved, the old wood paneling of the carriage squeaked, the floor creaked, the metal of the windows clattered in their frames.

The train has arrived and passengers are eager to start their journey

photography by: Shozeb Haider


At Payar Lan, we passed by the famous Scott’s Markets and the holy trinity cathedral, which now stood as reminders of the colonial past. The people’s park, national museum and the parliament house followed at Pyay Lan. By now, the carriage was at full occupancy, packed by morning commuters, fruit vendors, traditional food sellers, monks and occasional tourists. It became the hub of entrepreneurial activity with hawkers attempting to sell their wares to the passengers.

A man carrying two containers of water, freshly pumped from a well nearby the railway

photography by: Shozeb Haider


If unsuccessful, at least a conversation was struck, which became so animated that it certainly crossed from business into personal realm. It was not long before I realized that the train was not stopping at any of the stations but merely pausing down to a speed where people could hurl their goods and themselves, in an out of the carriages.

A couple chatting on the platform while waiting for their train

photography by: Shozeb Haider


Just as the commotion inside the moving marketplace was heating up, it was hard to ignore the scenery passing outside. The brilliant morning sunshine shimmered on the stagnant pools of pink lotuses and watercress along the tracks. The suburban houses gave way to a parade of shanty huts made entirely of hammered tin. Men carrying buckets on yokes tottered carrying potable water, while women squatted in conspiratorial groups around ponds, washing their laundry. Elderly men went on a walkabout along the tracks. Children jeered at the passing train. The fleeting rice fields displayed all the morning shades of green in their glory.

Two juvenile monks crossing the railway on their way to the classroom

photography by: Shozeb Haider


A procession of young men, some pedaling bicycles, began to appear in large numbers. The train pulled in slowly and sided to a stop. A young couple sat at one end of Hle Dan platform catching a moment of intimacy before the classes began at the Yangon University nearby. We passed by monasteries and temples; young novices in crimson robes rushed across the tracks, visibly late for their lessons, while the mendicant monks walked serenely with alms bowl on the circle line tracks to nirvana.

A teenage crimson dressed novice walking along the platform

photography by: Shozeb Haider


Insein station is widely known for its notorious prison, made famous by its Nobel peace prize-winning inmate and mountains of old Toyota cars that come from around the world to see out their end of days. The nearby temple on Mindhamma Hill houses a jade Buddha and the royal white elephant garden is popular with local families.

The pile of broken cars near the notorious prison around Insein Station

photography by: Shozeb Haider


As the train screeched and halted at Danyingon, a cacophony of noise erupted. Dozens of people barged into the compartment. Baskets full of vegetables, fruits and other goods stuffed securely were thrown through the windows. When every inch of free space was taken up, more goods were piled up on top. This station, on the northern outskirts of Yangon, is where most of the agricultural farming is done. It is by far the busiest and gets its name from Dragon fruit trees that grow around it. In fact, it’s less of a station and more of a local market place.

Danyingon Station and the hectic activity around

photography by: Shozeb Haider


Vendors yelled over each other trying to advertise their wares. Rice tied up in banana leaves was being passed through the windows. The smell of spiced prawns and fish filled the air. The tea seller, water carrier, beetle leaf seller, all appeared at once. Ladies with thanaka painted cheeks sold diced mangoes, watermelons and all sorts of seasonal fruits and vegetables. Chewing beetle nut and reddening the floor with the spittle seemed like a favorite past time, while others with smoking cheroots in their hands, imparted a look of contemptuous demeanor.

Vendors in Danyingon Station selling a plethora of produce, including fresh watermelon slices

photography by: Shozeb Haider


One woman chopped vegetables in a plastic bag, mixed it with some spice and sauces, while another poured steamed rice. Some fried insect delicacies were thrown in as garnishing. Everyone was in motion – slicing beetle nuts, peeling bananas, cracking peanuts, washing fruits, screaming at a tea seller. For those with no obvious commitments, I had to guess the purpose of them being there.

The chaotic market around the premises of the station

photography by: Shozeb Haider


By now we had covered more than half of the journey and were heading back amidst all the goods that was to be sold in Yangon. Individuals gradually got off at their stops, taking with them their merchandise, while new arrivals came onboard. Others preferred to stand on the doorway away from the pressures of heat and humidity. After overwhelming the senses, the train winded back into Yangon Central, providing a perfect antidote to sanitized tourist attractions of Myanmar.

The colorful carriages stopping along the platform, waiting for passenger to embark on board

photography by: Shozeb Haider


This train journey along run down platforms in colorfully rusted antiquated carriages over aged tracks would be no different from when it first started. With Myanmar opening up to development, it’s not a matter of if but how soon this circle line will be modernized. The Rangoon Circular will then be preserved in the pages of history.

A man walking along the railway, parallelly to a passing train, a common sight along the line

photography by: Shozeb Haider


About Me

Shozeb Haider is a professor of computational biophysics at University College London. While not researching ways to find new drugs, he is travelling around the world, to lesser known places. He firmly believes in the saying -“Don’t tell me how educated you are, tell me how much you have travelled instead”.

 

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photography by: Shozeb Haider