Indian Bike Trip

Indian bike trip

(definitely not finished)

These guys gave me a lift, then their truck broke down...

Little red ants in my bed, that’s the only thing I could attribute the enormous bruise on my right thigh to. It’s the size of a half an orange and had it been located on my bicep, it would certainly given me that Swartznegger look. I found three of these critters in the morning amongst the sheets and they proved tricky to kill, simply because they were so damn small. My bruise is the result of continuous assault on my thigh; it’s at least 20 bites. This will certainly not be the worst of it, but nonetheless a nice welcome to the Indian subcontinent.

Dhaka, Bangladesh, not exactly your choice tourist destination, the Bangladeshi tourist commission slogan ‘Come to Bangladesh, before the tourists do’ sums it up nicely. No, you don’t get many visitors here; I’ve been here for just over a week and met one other backpacker.

At first, the place seemed overwhelming, people, rickshaws, overcrowded buses everywhere, and you’re such a rarity that everyone just has to have a look. This would be fine if you’re in the middle of the Aussie outback, but not in the most densely populated country on earth, it can get a little daunting. Weather you’re buying a bus ticket, ordering a meal, asking for directions, or simply standing on the street smoking a cigarette, you’re guaranteed to have an audience of no less than five.

You learn to ignore it very quickly; otherwise it will drive you bananas. Smiling, nodding and answering “Yes” to any question is a good way of keeping your sanity.

- Hello, how are you?

-Yes.

- What is your country name?

-Yes.

- Where are you going?

-Yes.

And my favourite.

- Why did you come to Bangladesh?

There are many answers to this one, but the one that pops into my mind is a polite “Yes”.

It would be physically impossible to answer every greeting and every question seriously. In my case I would spend the day repeating “Nick, Australia, Dhaka, tourist, Nick, Australia, Dhaka, tourist...” over and over again like a mantra. Maybe there are some unfortunates out there, locked up in padded cells screaming every now and then “John, Canada, Calcutta, tourist!” This being the cue for some overworked western nurse to administer more sedative. Sorry fellas should have just said, “Yes!”

Yes, Yes, I had a dream, not exactly as grandiose as MLK’s dream, but a dream that I was very keen on. A project. To ride a motorcycle from Oz to Europe, but due to a couple of thousands of reasons, each one of them bearing the queens picture, I decided to wait and do the third best thing. Travel across India on an Indian bicycle, namely the HERO.

When I first learnt of this brand, I laughed. What a quirky name for a pushbike! Soon I realised this name is barely suitable for a machine of such a calibre. Hero is the worlds biggest bicycle manufacturer, and it stands to reason, more people get around on the humble Hero than on any other brand. What better machine to tour India on? Plenty of parts, plenty of people that know how to fix them (I’ll certainly try first), an all-Indian bike for an all-Indian experience.

The plan: On the 30th of June I have a boat to Khulna, Bangladesh, well it’s actually a paddle steamship from the turn of the century which will be excellent. A good time to relax and see some scenery of the Sudarbans (apparently the largest littoral mangrove belt in the world) as well. Then get my butt over the border into Calcutta to do all the necessary preparations. I’ll need some maps, a second camera (for the slide film), compass, and a bike. The only thing I haven’t figured out yet is how to fix my backpack to the bike rack, the racks I’ve seen seem a little too small, Ill wait and see, things have a way of working themselves out.

First full day in Calcutta is not too productive, I was keen to get things organizes straight away, I only have 2 months left on my visa. Getting the bike is a priority, with it I will be able to ride around the city sightseeing and at the same time I’ll be able to get used to the bike, iron out any problems and get to know the hectic road laws. As in all Asian countries it’s the survival of the strongest, riding a bicycle puts you on the bottom of the pecking order. As it turns out today is a general stride day, no transport, no shops open and all banks are closed. I don’t want to use up my precious reserves of Yankee dollars, so I’ve decided to bum around and wait.

Even with no money I’ve successfully filled in a day, got up at 11am (this practice will have to stop when I’m on the road) had an omelette for brunch, took a little walk and confirmed to myself that indeed everything is closed and the police are booking rickshaw drivers that have passengers in their vehicles. Mind you, even though it is a general strike day, the beggars are still working, I guess they do not belong to any union.

In my hotel, I met two guys from Sikkim (a state in the north of India, right in the Himalayas), they’re great company. As it turns out they’ve come here to visit a friend of theirs. In no time to their room and the six of us (the local friend had a friend who brought another friend) have a little party. The beer comes out, the whiskey comes out, soon some curried chicken and rice appears as well. I’ve found the whole group very interesting and it’s so hard to turn down invitations to go to Sikkim and do some trekking. I love the mountains, but the invites are about 2 weeks too late, I’ve thought too much about the bike trip to swap it for anything, maybe next time, definitely nest time.

For some reason, the hotel management doesn’t like foreigners to mix with Indian guests. Every fifteen minutes or so, the reception clerk comes in and reminds up that I shouldn’t be in their room. Poor man, he gets so much abuse from my half drunk hosts in English, Hindi and Bangla, I manage to throw in some polish insults in there, not wanting to be out done. I have to be good to the clerk though, he’s the one that will give me permission to store my machine in the lobby of this fine establishment.

My hosts showed me the place in Calcutta where there’s heaps of bicycle shops. I often ridiculed the way Asians tend to set up whole streets of shops selling the same items, I can see this set up works well for the consumer, you don’t have to go far to find another shop. The street name is Bentinck and it’s just a kilometre north of Sudder Street, where my hotel is located. Apparently, one of the streets perpendicular to Bentinck Street has a whole lot of motorcycle shops. It’s going to be tempting to buy one, apparently second hand Bullets go for as little as $US200.

Today I also met a Jewish lady that’s living in India permanently, she was very quick to point out her religion and the fact that her family moved from Burma in 1941. I suspect that might have been the time that the Japanese took over Burma. Sweet old dear, seemed content with life, her parents were both from the present area of Iraq.

3/7/98

Today has been a very productive day, without any hustles I managed to purchase a bike, lock, chain, rope and other sundry items. The bike was cheaper than I expected (1330 Rps) so I didn’t even barter for it. That might have been a bad move because straight away the bike shop salesman asked me if I was American.

I’m still hanging out with my Sikkim mates and walked all over town to find a compass for me but to no avail. The hotel owner was quite amused when I dragged my machine to the first floor lobby. He told me off for bringing it in wet though, oooppps Sorry! Then he made me carry it to the second floor where my room was. He also warned me about leaving it parked outside on the street

Me picking up my brand new Hero...

4/7/98

The two guys I’ve been hanging out with have left town, I missed their departure and even though I suspect they wanted to come up to my room (13 Continental Guest House, Sudder Rd), There seems to be a big thing made out of locals and foreigners mixing in the hotel. I filled the day e-mailing a few people and going to the National Museum.

I made a dry run with the bike today, I tied my backpack to the rack to see how it would fit together. I feel I’m going to have problems form day one. For starters, I couldn’t find any octopus straps, which would make the job of securing the backpack so much easier (as well as the removal). Then to my surprise I managed to snap the “good and strong” rope I purchases yesterday with my bare hands. True, it was a little ripped in the place it snapped but as I observed the rips are popping up everywhere and pack rack will slice through this rope in no time. To compound my worries the bike doesn’t feel sturdy at low speeds. The corridor in my hotel is too short too ride any faster than walking pace and I couldn’t be bothered dragging the thing two flights of stairs just to confirm my suspicions. The main problem is the weight of the backpack, it’s sitting pretty high up and during a change of direction it tends to throw me off balance. Can ten years of motorcycle ridding come in handy? What can I throw out? What do I need the Least? I have to finish my current book that will save me a mere 200 grams, but this will be well overcompensated by any water I carry. I need my jeans, boots, sleeping bag, toiletries, India book; I know... my unread books! I was never too keen on Stephen King anyway. How can a few pairs of dirty underwear weigh so much?

During all my fussing on the second floor, my hotelkeeper came up to have a look at my antics. He very calmly informed me, “No problem, Sir. Many foreigners ride from Delhi to Calcutta”. I felt like replying, “Yeah, but they know what they’re doing!” Working in a hotel, this guy would have seen a lot of weird stuff and he wasn’t too flustered about my ride. “Can you pay for tonight?” “No worries mate”.

I cannot believe what I’m doing to myself; I cannot get this trip out of my mind. I had a very short sleep last night, after watching the football and having some beers with “New Gudung” and friend, we went for a quick coffee before crashing. I got to my room at midnight and attempted to fall asleep several times, each time I found myself thinking, “what else do I need?” “Did I write that down on my list of things to do?”. Today I was knackered, by 7 pm I was ready for bed, but decided to finish my book as not to stuff around with it tomorrow. Shit, I finished the book 2 hours ago; it’s 12:30! I should be in bed fast asleep. Well, at least I added 2 more things to my ‘to do’ list. Which now contains; diareah pills (important!), toilet paper (am I really that anal?), slide film, plastic bag (to cover my daypack which I will attach to my handle bars), aussie embassy, post office (send off my mail), spoon (Indians eat with their right hand, I’m all for tradition but since I’m not part of this culture, but merely a visitor I think it will just be looked upon as another western eccentricity), baked beans (I know I’ll get a craving for them). God I wish it was the 8th! I managed to cross off the compass, I found one a hundred metre from my hotel, its a keying compass and it doesn’t look like something that could be relied upon to point to the north but it will have to so, at least its small. I’m also smoking like an Arab; I’m going to try to quit. Sometimes when I think of my friends, if they were asked what fraze do you associate with Nick, the answer would be “I’m giving up!”

6/7/98

Today I managed to fill in the day, I went for a walk, had a quick gamble on the three cup game in the street. It gave me a real rush even though I lost. It’s funny, but when I don’t bet, I know exactly where the ball is, but as soon as I put my money down it disappears.

7/7/98

First day on the road. Let me say first of all, I feel fucked. I’ve just had a shower in some dirty water it helped heaps. The day turned out very interesting. I started off at 8am (its’ 6:30 now). I headed NW through Calcutta, when I thought I got lost, I started asking for directions. As might be expected, no one knew where the National Highway was; they probably didn’t even know what it was, by the time I got to Howrah (the other side of the river) I was in a bit of a panic. People were still pointing me in contradictory directions and on top of that I noticed that my rear tyre developed a lump, it felt like I was ridding with a square rear wheel. One of the guys that pointed me in ‘a direction’ earlier on noticed that my front brake was beginning to fall apart and soon would disintegrate. I had to find a bicycle walah (walah is a), quick!

No big drama, they’re everywhere, and after a half an hour chat to my bicycle wallah’s relatives and a cup of chai (tea), I was back on the road. Total cost; 4 Rupees (A$1=25Rupees) including a new bracket for my front brake.

Once again, I hit the road, asking directions and getting confusing answers. By this time I was asking for Bombay Rd, I’m not sure how this came about but I had to find Bombay Td or Giti Rd (apparently the same thing). Then disaster, my rear tube pops, it sounds like a gunshot. I suspect the tube was sussing to start off with anyway. They set me straight after some cricket talk and off I go. After maybe an hour I find myself on what looks like a country road, and soon I see a sign “Bombay 1900 km’s”. Fuck! Wrong way again! I had a look at the map and I think I know which way I’m going. I’m definitely going the wrong way! I decided to keep going, this way I might extend my trip by some 200 km’s. At the next petrol station I talk to a guy that makes me turn around, it’s 15kns to an intersection where I took the wrong turn. I don’t really have a choice, I go back. Once I find the intersection, it’s plain sailing and I clock up some km. Rest for the night at a roadside hotel, 9 Rupees, communal sleeping room in the open with the mosquitoes.

Fixing up a puncture... the whole village gathered for the event

8/7/98

Last night I slept on a convict bed. Heaps of mosquitoes, this morning I felt stiff, but as soon as I warmed up I felt fine. Today I total about 70 km’s. Very hot, so I bought a headband, I’m sunburnt. Before lunch I got stopped by Biplab (at Nirogdarh I think), he’s the secretary of the YHA, pleaded with me to write about my trip. I feel ok but I keep looking at my watch, time goes so slowly. I do 4 minutes to a kilometre, not bad. I ride for 30 min’s at a time; it’s hard to do more. My bum is really sore; it’s hard to get up after a rest.

Met another guy at a roadside store, Samsul Alam Mollah (Muslim), Offered to pay for my stuff, cigs and 2 chais. The name of this town has changed from Barddhaman to ????. Everyone knows where it is, but there are no signs for it. I suspect it’s off the national Hwy (now called Delhi Rd, convenient). About 6 km’s, nice scenery coming into it and I did need to buy something for my head (I think I mentioned that at the beginning of the paragraph). Railway tracks are a nightmare to cross. Trucks bank up, you overtake them, then there’s a heard of them that want to overtake you. They also have to manoeuvre through the crossing, it’s too narrow. I’m really grumpy, people don’t know jack shit, and they’re really interested in cricket. Also started using my purification tablets, thank god I don’t have to drink sweet drinks anymore. Tomorrow’s city Durgapur 63km’s according to the map. Bough a pineapple for breaky.

Get to town 5:15, not bad, I left about 6am. Took me 15 mins to find a room, got electrocuted twice by the fan, one when I went to move it, second time when I went to pick something off the table. The room is full of mosquitoes and my coils don’t seem to work. People in the street (I went for a quick dinner and shop) are burning incents like the ones at mass. Probably to get rid of the mossies. Wires for the fan are coming out of the wall, the clerk adjusted everything for me so I wouldn’t have to touch it. I do get a mirror and a clothesline for 60 rupees. There a garden outside, I could smell the greenery when I stuck my head out, second story. I left the bike downstairs the clerk was telling stories about me when I left for dinner, soccer’s on at 11pm tonight Croatia vs. France. Water here tastes metallic; yesterday’s tasted like petrol they offered me cool water from the fridge.

9/7/98

Had a shit nights sleep, mosquitoes everywhere, the power went out about midnight and I heads the generator kick in. This morning I woke up at 4:30, got ready, but couldn’t get out of the hotel, the gare was locked. There was no one at reception so I banged on the door and screamed my lungs out, no one came out. Then I tried opening the front gates with the keys I found at reception. None of them worked. Then I tried door knocking, thinking that the closest door to reception should be occupied by a stuff member, nope! No one answered, some with door 2 and 4. Then I tried upstairs. The hotel was half finished and upstairs rooms had no doors. I hassled the guys up there but they just indicated to go downstairs to go to hell. They were not impressed. On my last sweep of the hotel I bumped into a guy that (classic Hotel) I got out out of bed before. He was going to work and seemed to know where the staff were. Bastards! They were eight rooms removed from reception, I’m sure they heard me screaming but didn’t get up. I banged on their door. They also had a really good room, air-con and mosquito nets. 5:30 I set off.

First I had to cover a few a kilometres to the national highway, they just flew (before leaving town a quick cigarette and a cuppa at a beggars stand, one woman was breast feeding, the kid already knew how to put its hand out for money). Also guys at the reception had no idea how to get to Durgapur.

Had an excellent day on the road. I’ve started pedalling 45 mins and stop 15 min, every hour 10 kilometres. Longer for lunch. My second to third stop was at a tea stand in a little village the whole male population must have come out. I spoke to a guy that looked like he was an old man when Buddha was born, his teeth were yellow, half missing and whatever was remaining was well out of the gums. Nice chat, move on. Stopped again took a few pictures of Tata trucks rolling by. For lunch I stopped at a grotty eatery at the side of the road. Asked for food, but instead got the owner who spoke English. Ho owns the petrol station, eatery and he’s building a hotel across the road, we exchanged addresses his brother is buying up land in oz. I was 10 kms outside of Durgapur. I don’t understand my alarm watch. I’ve set it to go off 45 mins after I finished my meal but it didn’t go off. It happens intermediately. Zipped though Durgapur, didn’t even need to go though the centre. Maybe 4kns after I stopped for a drink after telling the guys there what I was doing, I went to pay, but they insisted that it’s free, the asked for my autograph instead. For the first time I’m begging to believe that I’m going to make it to Delhi. Couple more stops. Some guys stepped me to ask me what I’m doing. Came to railway crossing that means time for a drink. I’m learning, cause after finishing my drink, the trucks haven’t rolled though. I manage to squeeze in.

It got pretty close to five. The roadside stops are sparse, perhaps because we’re close to town (the scenery is industrial, apparently steel and mining) Germans and British concern is redeveloping the national highway. There’s road works everywhere. I passed a group of ‘hotels’ but decided to keep going. Got really close to five and I started thinking “maybe I should turn back doesn’t look like there’s anything else here” when I came upon the “Motel Welcome” Asuk welcomed me but told me that there’s no rooms but I can sleep with the hired help (how good looking is the hired help?). I can stay free, but I buy food and drink here. As if I was going to walk anywhere tonight! (storm clouds gathering) for food they had chawmain plain or with egg. I took the egg but didn’t find any in my meal.

When I was eating I sussed the place out, he really meant what he said. The Welcome Hotel doesn’t have any rooms; it’s a restaurant with a finely manicured garden, that’s it! Looks like I’m sharing with at least 3 others, there’s 2 beds (I buzzed one) and a concrete slab in the middle of the room at table height that sleeps 2. Maybe they dissect backpackers on it as well>? I’m sure there’s going to be mosquitoes tonight. My positive attitude to life tells me that I have a one in four chance of getting bitten. The realist in me is ready to bet my family jewels that the vermin will dine on exotic flesh tonight. I’ve got something in my left eye, it’s really annoying. My right calf got a mild cramp. No one knows how far we’re from Durgapur. Tonight I shave. Khan (the manager) informed me that 2 months ago Jacques Sirat a Frenchman doing a world bike trip stayed here. Wow! Thanks Jacques, even showed me his picture.

MANGALPUR P.S. RANIGANJ

10/7/98

The night turned out OK, my bed got confiscated and instead I got the cement slab. My place was tight under the fan and I didn’t get bitten. As I realised in the motning 3 of us were meant to share the slabv, but when I went to sleep there was onlyu one other guy on it so I’ve spread out. I woke up kicking the late comer in the head.

The days ride was quit successful, I’m pretty sure I’ve clocked up over 80 kilometres. As usual I started off early (4:30am, the night watchman came to made sure I was up). Grabbed breaky at a grubby side of the road place. I asked for food chapatti and roti, the guy brought out chicken! I sent it vack and gor what I ordered, well I actually cot dal, but hey! I’ve spent the day doing my 45-15 min thing. The scenery was still very indestrial till mid agternoon, now it changed to more gilly and definatelu less developed.

I was an idiot to think that the whole of India was going to e flat. I don’t mind the hills. You pedal your arse off and then you rest. If only the whole ride was down the hill. I’ve noticed people started wearing those pointy shoes and there’s more Sighs around. Roadworks are still in progress. People warned me yesterday about Bihar, mafia, don’t ride at nightetc. Looks fine, but a little poorer and if my powers of abservation serve me, there’s more cows around. My last stop for the day was about 4. I started to get some stomach pains. I made it to a road hotel called Ganga and I feel pretty shit. The whole way I’ve been chlorinating my water and eating vegetables but it still got me. Hotel Ganga looks like a fine establishment (I can see hills around) it’s concreted (second storey still not finished) sells beer and could cater for 100. I hope they will not be too noisey.

Convict beds are free, if you eat here. In my current state its Roti only. The manager has been very good and showed me to the toilet straight away. After I had my pepsi, I flopped on the bed in the corner. My pierced nipples drew a crowd. I think I’m 20 kms past Dhanbod. Today I was as quick as some of the local busses. I overtook them when they were picking people up. Funny how a stomach aiche can take away the pain in your legs.

No shower tonight, when I indicated to the man that I wanted to wash he pointed me to the basin in the middle of the restaurant. I showed him I wanted to wash my hair, armpits, groin etc. (by pretending I’m washing them) he ushered me to a room that was designed to be a shower but only had a tap at waiste height. The shower piping has been freshly concreted over. I couldn’t clse the door and had a whole crowd watching me so I settled for washing my face and arms instead. I don’t even have the energy to lock my bike and I don’t want to touch the food but I have to! They serve meals in beds by placing a flat board across them. The water here looks so suss, it’s mud!

214 miles to Varanasi, I just wanted a picture by myself but I found friends...

Elephant man I met along the way

11/7/98

I didn’t get up at 3 as planned, I felt do tired. Instrad I got up a little past 4am. My legs ached as I squtted to fix my backpack to my rack. I was on my way. I gad a light breaky with a pepsi. The scenety was still helly, now and them there was some rocks sicking out. Aal from land, chimneys gone. Last nightr the hotel had a guard with a spear (metal tip) that made me feel safe. This morning I stopped in a billage that was selling only sworda, spears, axes and crude flick knifes. Now I know where the nightwhatchman got his weapon from. When I wole up there was a tuick parked one metre away from my bed, slept thourgh it. Keep riding, truck head on, no bodies in sighr. I was aching in the morning but as the day goes on I feel better, my stomach’s ok. The sigh this morning said 387 to varanasi, but a lot of the milestones are unreadable. The roads are little worse but not that bad. At avout 8am I hit a place called Esri Bazar, a line of trucks abvout a kn long, conclusion…. Tailway cressing. I was he first across the line but the road got so bad I decided to sit it out and let the trucks pass. The shop oener wanted me to take a picturem, no film(likely story). When I got through mostr of the traffic gasd padded, I git the road. Fuck, I

Ve never seen a toad this bad, pot holes, mud etc. about 2 kns of it. For lunch I stopped at a dinner, it had a crazy old guy with a toothless smile. They called him baba, I sish I took a pictyuerof those missing teeth. There I also met two drivers feom Rajastan, Sikhs, ith cool shows, one of their tricks brode down. Food sleep, hot the road its about 40 kms to Bahri. My suspisions were confirmed after lunch. I’ve been climbing all morning. Now I’m descending, shit roads though. Pigs etc. the roads are pretty bad and it takes some skoll to navigate the best path. When I paddes a town called Barkatha, I had to give way to a truck and I punctured my rear wheel. There was a peasant standing next to me when it happened I showed him what happeded and opned my arms as to ask where cam I getr it fixed. No ekea. As luck would have it, there was puncture man maybe 20 meteres down the road. 2 cigs and a pepsi later I’m on my way. Geeling good. The countryside is deserted maybe the sitre of the nuclear tests. I could keep gouing for a long time. Bit of thunder, I cover my backpack. It’s 4:30, my last break for the day, unfriendly people cig, keep going, 5:30 I find a plce to stay, tonight I’m sleeping between the generator room and the cow room. There’s a few guys here, they want to talk and they makje me eat some fried prawns and fish (both little). After last night;s experience, I son’t wanto to but cannot refuse.

12/7

Woke up without a prob, bnut I so remember last night some idiot parking his motorcyucle and thenm removing it after dinner, bumping my bed on both occasions. I think the monsoons are here, it pissed down this morning and I de;ayed my departure by hald an hour. Nmore hills on one climb I had my first stadk, I was on the shoulder and looked ober to ger a back onto the road there was a truck, when it was cleat I was too close to a wreck of another truck, my rear wheel slipped and I fell, dinting my chain guard in the process. There was a tea stand opposite so I fixed my bike with a dodgey srewdriver first(kids only ran the shop) and then a rock. From then on I must have had about 10km’s run downhill. Trucks spoilt it though, you have to slow down to let them over take you. Must have crossed at leat 6 rivers, the bridges are as bad and the roads in the towns(damaged balustrades). Lunch was in some little town(lost my bottle cap-srew) everyone stared, didn’t sleep but kept going. At a distance ( I stared at 287 from varanasi) at 250km’s someone told me it’s 400 to vara.. (fuck, these guys don’t know shit!) saw a truck that slipped off a bridge. At the end of the day I tacesd some guy to Aurongabad (the outskirts off), I was ready to stop for the night, but the hotel that I stopped at had a cow in it and goat shit on the table, took tea and buiskit. I was delirious, I was singing love me do and go west shit. Found another place on the other side of town. According to the signs posts it’s abvout 165 to vara, o was even toying with the idea of doing another 40km’s tonight and 120 tomorrow and whalla! Vara! But that’s not possible. According to me and my map, I’ve done 120 today, these guys recon only 105, someone’s wrong. My host for tonight, as usual cannot understand oz and is wearing silver slippers. When I washed my feet it was really slippery, cause thety wash dishes undert the same pump, saw some eucalipi today. The forest finished, it was just shrubs, hardly any hotels. My water bottle is looking worse for wear. The people here are good, they leave me alone and my host (after some cross examination) explained a few things about food. Tonight it’s eggs and bread! Yummy!

Nick Mleczko (2/99)

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