Reflections on India

My journey across India has been in many ways the fullest expression of the Bristol2Beijing expedition so far. Yet India has also been the most challenging country through which I’ve cycled. Now that I’m Kolkata, with 2500 kilometres of cycling behind me and Bangladesh ahead, I want to reflect on what made India so rewarding, and yet also difficult.

One thousand kilometres. That was the distance I cycled with Indian CanLiver, Dev Mukharjee. Never before have I cycled such a long way with a local CanLiver. And for me, it was the strongest affirmation that being active and having an adventure is possible for anyone – including those with cancer. Across half of India, it was not just me showing India what was possible with cancer, but also Dev. Dev, who could speak Hindi and Punjabi (and Bengali, and a host of programming languages), who knew the challenges and culture of India much better than I ever will, and was much more relatable to the 1.4 billion people who live in India.

If Dev, in his blue jeans and red jumper, neck warmer and hat, with no previous cycling experience, can ride 1000 kilometres, then there are no excuses left! Dev brought his own unique style to the journey: phoning his Mum, friends, CanKids, uncles, aunties, journalists – seemingly the whole of India – from the back of the bike; he delighted in ordering us the tastiest food at roadside dhabas (whilst assuring me ghee and butter, were in fact, healthy); and he took it as his duty to explain the dense network of stories and symbolism surrounding the Hindu gods, and the endless aphorisms in Hindi. Travelling with Dev was never boring.

Dev and I chewing up the Indian roads.

Throughout India, we were supported by our regional charity partner, CanKids. Their mission is to stop children dying from cancer in India, and, led by Poonam Bagai, and with a bright, committed team across the country, they are making huge inroads – in a country where those roads into rural villages can be very long indeed. Poonam is also a CanLiver, and she had been globetrotting for years, leaving India far behind, when she was diagnosed with cancer in Warsaw. “I prayed to god, ‘please let me live, I’ll go back to India and help all the children with cancer if you let me live’”. God seemed to like what he heard and Poonam was as good as her word, and now CanKids works in every state across India, in 121 hospitals.

Their work is incredibly varied and wide reaching: they have homes where poor families from rural areas can stay during treatment; they run classes for the children away from school; they finance treatment and transport; they give psychological, nutritional and social support during treatment; and they’re lobbying the government to make provisions for treating childhood cancer. In Poonam’s words, “we want to close the gap” – be it the gap between a child’s house and hospital, or between a teenager and their friends. In India, although 80% of childhood cancer is curable, only 30% of the total number of children who have cancer are brought to hospital at all. Thus, a big part of CanKids’ work revolves around raising awareness of cancer symptoms in rural areas and spreading the message that childhood cancer is curable, which encourages families to fork out the money and time to take children to hospital in the first place, rather than seeing them as a lost cause. CanKids and Dev are part of the vanguard to destigmatise cancer in India.

I’m particularly grateful to CanKids for all their support: from organising events in hospitals and schools, to helping me with accommodation and logistics and support. Perhaps most of all, I’m grateful to them for bringing Dev and I together.

India has perhaps been the country where I have been most engaged with the language, culture and people. Often unavoidably – it’s that sort of place – where every sound, sight, smell, touch and taste irresistibly and boldly makes itself known. Whether that’s sampling bright and delicious papri chaat or a thick tart-yet-sweet pomegranate lassi, dancing in an impromptu festival behind a tractor loaded with speakers taller than I am (all in honour of the god of knowledge, Swarasti, who is particularly popular amongst students before exams who prefer dancing to her than revising), or being entranced by the fluid (and yes, erotic) Kama Sutra embraces at Khajuraho. As you walk down the street, there’s the smell of incense, cooking spices, hot oil, and sewage – often all at once. There’s the competing sounds of men calling out their wares, hindu prayer chants piped from speakers, the yell of “howzaaaat?!” from a cricket match, and of course, the honking horn soundtrack. I was left profoundly puzzled yet impressed as I witnessed  Varanasi’s manic traffic seamlessly weave round a dog sleeping in the middle of the road.

Another chewer next to the Indian roads.

I was told frequently that every 100 miles, the food, customs and language change. Dev made sure I at least knew a few Hindi phrases, my favourite being “if your sheet is too short, you must bend your legs” (meaning: you mustn’t live beyond your means).

Between Patna and Kolkata, Sunny, Nikesh and Gautam – the young cyclists of Khelo Rugby who were keen to rise earlier and ride longer than I was – took me under their wing as we played impromptu rugby matches, stayed in small villages which had more mosquitoes than people and helped me see a side of India beyond the main roads down which I had been pedalling.

Having arrived in Kolkata, I look back on a rich set of unique and treasured experiences – so far from my UK reference points.

And yet, that’s not the whole story. As much as I’d like to say it’s been all roses, it hasn’t. Or maybe it has, but roses also have thorns.  I’ve also found India to be the toughest country to travel through. Part of that is India itself, and another part is a mixture of fatigue and uncertainty from travelling for over two years and still without a clear path to Beijing.  

The second part first: I set off from Bristol almost 26 months ago now! Alongside the amazing people, experiences and adventures I have had, I’ve also had to answer the same few questions thousands of times. It’s tiring. Since waiting for my visas and ferry in Baku (May 2021), I haven’t spent seven nights in a row in the same bed. I’ve been constantly on the move. This is simply to explain that there is a part of me that now wants stability – the ability to put down slightly more permanent roots, rather than constantly meeting and farewell-ing an ever-changing cast of people.

Added to this, there’s still huge uncertainty about getting to Beijing. Although we are throwing the kitchen sink at getting a visa (if you know anyone who is well-connected in China, let me know!), it is nearly impossible. Now, I know that the almost-impossible is possible, but that doesn’t make it any easier! So whilst I will keep knocking on the door until it opens or I break my arm, I have an uncertain timeframe of when I can reach Beijing. Will it be June (probably best case scenario)? Will it be October? Sometime in 2023? There’s no way of knowing right now.

So all this is at the back of my mind as I ride across India. And this wasn’t always easy.

There are the roads. I wouldn’t say they’re too dangerous, just very stressful (read more about cycling in India here). There are ear-splitting horns, horned cows, potholes, pot-bellied pigs, speedbumps, motorbikes bumping into you, nails in the road and nailed-on chances of being “selfied” whenever you stop.

Then there is a continual wave of humanity, everywhere. It was incredibly rare to cycle for two minutes without seeing someone. And everyone is curious and excited to take a “click” with you. I wish I could have dealt with this with more grace, but I found it tiring to constantly be the centre of attention, wherever you were and whatever you did. The attention was certainly well-intentioned but I found myself becoming surlier and brusquer as the trip went on. “Where are you from?” “UK.” “What are you doing?” “Cycling.” The message, I hoped, was clear: leave me alone. So much for my desire to spread a message of hope and positivity across the world.

I became a version of myself I didn’t really recognise: withdrawn, curiosity gone about the people I met and places I was in – I just wanted to be left in peace. I just didn’t care. And this was scary. I don’t associate this behaviour with myself: I like to think I travel to meet people, find out about what makes them tick, to go off the beaten track. And here I was, craving to be left alone in a comfortable hotel with AC and clean pillows and duvet.

So there has been a lot of soul-searching! Did I want to be here, doing this cycle ride? Why had I lost enjoyment of this ride, when there were so many wonderful experiences going on around me?

India is intense. The northern regions I was going through in particular have a reputation for being full on. I was told many times southern India is completely different, and now having visited Goa – I concur: it is a relaxed wonderland of sandy beaches, blue sky, beaming sun, cocktails, coconuts and coffee.

The gorgeous beaches of Goa.

I’m aware I have barely scratched the surface of the mind-bending variety of India.

For me, India has been a simultaneously marmite country – I’ve loved it and found it difficult at the same time, or flip-flopping between the two 10 times a day. This has been exhausting, but it is, ultimately, exactly what I said I wanted when I set out on this journey: to have the richest, most fulfilling experiences possible. Not just the “good” and easy – I could have stayed in a 5 star hotel in the UK for that – but the “bad” and the “ugly” too: the bits that are tough at the time, but make the best stories afterwards.

I’ve realised I need to take a step back, and move away from “should”: “I should explore this city”; “I should visit this bar”; “I should chat with new people”. Instead, I need to acknowledge I’ve been on the road for almost two years (and am very fortunate to have been) and I need to take a step in the direction of “want”. What do I want to do? What excites me? And this is probably a bit different to what that was at the beginning.

India has been a precious country and a rich reminder for me that I have a long way to go – in my own development – before I get to Beijing.

Please support the amazing charities we have partnered with, including CanKids, by donating at: https://www.gofundme.com/f/ghcus-bristol2beijing