From My Notebooks In 1977: From Assam to Patna by Mistake

The ubiquitous holy cows of India didn’t look too happy with their diet of street food.

I took Carol to the Bangladeshi border as we’d agreed and returned to Gauhati thinking I would need to renew my permit before leaving Assam. I called on Dr. Das, the academic, who invited me to dinner.

Tuesday, February 15th

Dinner with Das. Wife rather self-conscious about food and I’m sure she’s made it blander than usual. But it’s nice and we have a pleasant time. All the same I feel that we never really get to the point. It’s all rather trivial. Comparisons of customs. He attacks reservation of jobs for scheduled castes.

Dr Das mentions village at the foot of forested slope. The villagers grew sugar cane and made their own molasses. The forest was government property, and a logging franchise was sold. The villagers could no longer get firewood (the trees were clear cut) and they were able no longer to make sugar. Also, he said, their supply of fish was cut off from the other side of the hill. (Why?)

[He talks about the lackadaisical behaviour of students, and quotes one of them.]

“I may start a law practice and fight for clients. Of course I can cheat them. In India lawyers do this.” Young law student in Gauhati: who failed to appear at appointment.

Dr Das invited 1000 families to his mother’s funeral.

Wednesday 16th

My frustration at discovering that today is a Govt. religious holiday comes to the boil. My permit has now expired and I can’t get another till tomorrow. I decide to get out of Assam. Pack and leave early. Get to Barpeta Road at 10am and have short but warm meeting with Debroy. He seems really pleased. Takes Abbey’s book. [I had a copy of Edward Abbey’s ‘Desert Solitaire’]

Shows me his account of shooting man-eating tiger. I ask him to send a copy to France. He agrees. Maybe it will make a good article. Good for him to get some currency.

Just a little trouble later at border because of stupid policeman getting date wrong. Siliguri awaits me and stuff is as I left it, but I seem to have lost my draft of Kolhapur episode. Saddens me. Also there’s an enormous amount of stuff to carry and it takes a while to work out a system. I figure to go straight to Calcutta, see Carol again and offload some gear.

Thursday 17th

Set off at great rate. Road is good. Then after 150 miles make the crucial error and, still on Highway 31, go almost to Patna before discovering my mistake.

[Leaving Assam I crossed the Ganges, but in a maze of tributaries and bridges without signage I followed the river upstream towards Patna instead of downstream to Calcutta.]

On the way, nearly hit a small boy who ran right across my front wheel. Fearfully close, in spite of my being very watchful. Reminder of mortality. How those few inches affected my life.

Now at Barauni junction I’m quite depressed. No Carol. No Calcutta. Raj Pande [The Lucas agent] etc. Only “dirty” Patna awaits me. I struggle through thickening crowds of people on road, who seem to have been gathering by the riverside. The sun was really blinding now, and I was afraid to hit someone. Got to Patna just at sunset, but it proved remarkably easy. The first time I stopped I was directed to DAK bungalow. Two fellows on scooter escorted me there. A chemical engineer received me and eventually found me a room at the Indrasan. Patna is neither huge nor dirty – I’m at a loss to understand where these reputations are formed. Perhaps arriving by train gives a different impression. But then what about London?

Friday 18th

Send telegram to PH (perhaps too frivolous.) Film and letter to Carol in Calcutta. Have good food at Amber restaurant, Fraser Road. Hang out with engineer, and brothers at hotel. Have beer with Prakash, the pilot brother, who takes me upstairs for dinner. No call from PH.

Saturday 19th

This morning got the bank draft at last and sent it to Nasir. [Nasir was the film distributor who helped me in Bombay. I must have owed him money.]

Still nothing from PH. It puzzles me that not even the least courtesy is paid to my message.

Second day in Patna. I would have left but for the promise of a seat in a glider. Prakash was eager to talk to me when he’d seen the bike. He was able to appreciate a measure of what it represented in terms of effort and determination, and also has a high opinion of his own superiority, which allowed him to believe that he measured up to me, status wise. I put it that way because he’s quite boastful of his own exploits and accomplishments. He has been a qualified commercial pilot for a long time. Recently took up gliding. In Montreal he was working as a pilot and took a flyer on a snack bar concession at the world fair. He says he was making $800 a week profit [$4000 today.] He used it all to travel (The gamble included flying two cooks from Delhi to Canada.) On his journey through USA, Far East and Europe he lived in Hiltons, spared no luxury, had girlfriends, and took many photographs. Most of the pictures in his album seem to be pictures of himself taken by friends. In these pics he looks like a boorish, vicious playboy. The vitality and mischievousness which make him attractive are absent. In Europe he was joined by his wife. There are pictures of her looking dumpy and miserable. She seems to have done a lot of shopping. They have one or two children (he never mentions them). She watches indulgently as I look at pictures of his girlfriends and he talks about them in front of her. Although he is likeable, I know I couldn’t enjoy his company for long, but I am excited by the prospect of gliding again. (When I ask him what it costs to have shoes polished, he makes a point of telling me that he always polishes his own). He says he started the family sweet shop and has had an instinctive flair for business since his youth.

Prakash takes me gliding in afternoon. What a rush of excitement. For a bit I felt quite scared but really loved it. He takes me to the airstrip at 2pm – and we go up in a two seat Indian glider (Rohini). It’s very dramatic – much more so than the helicopter – and I try to conceal a surprising nervousness – but it’s very exciting, as we twist in a mild thermal alongside the big kites racing past us [Kite = bird of prey, up to two feet long]. The wind is a tremendous presence. And to watch the big kites swooping around is quite fabulous. One came very close and I got a quite different feeling about it – very powerful and businesslike. The wind which is supporting us also seems to be grasping at the glider from all directions trying to upset it. I’m not sure I’d want to do much more of it, since it feels so unsafe, but I grab these opportunities eagerly for the new perspective they might offer.

It’s interesting that certain risk-taking activities are socially acceptable for mind expansion (i.e. climbing, parachuting, etc) whereas motorcycling is not. Yet all arguments apply to both.

More about the rest of this extraordinary day next week.