Cycle India

I wake early and enjoy the tranquillity of a Mumbai Sunday morning, sounds strange in a city of 20 million. Fortunately Swapan's travel memento decorated apartment is in a 'gated community' which has no through road and security guards so it is shielded from the hustle and bustle outside. After a simple vegetable omelette and bread breakfast which Swapan kindly prepared it was time to put the bike together, praying that the various airport baggage handlers had been kind to Dhanya and nothing was bent out of shape. Befitting her name luck and fortune were on our side and she went back together perfectly and in no time, with some trepidation, I was cycling out of the calmness of Swapan’s ‘compound’ to experience the streets of Mumbai…

The traffic was certainly an eye-opener. Black and yellow auto-rickshaws buzzing around like annoying wasps and moving as erratically, these were joined by lumbering old buses pulling over and continually cutting me up with no warning – it felt as if there is a conspiracy to test my patience. Added to this the dreadful state of the roads, potholes all over the place, scarily ill-fitting manhole covers, piles of rubble and rubbish, and the general bumpiness caused by shoddy workmanship. The constantly changing road surfaces added to the mayhem, concrete, tarmac and bizarrely block paving which of course has become very uneven with blocks missing here and there. And finally I must not forget to mention the people crossing the road with widely differing ideas as to the concept of ‘right of way’. All of this makes for very slow, stop/start cycling, I just couldn’t get into any sort of rhythm. As I was getting to grips with all this, with raised eyebrows I reflected on Swapan’s words, “It’s Sunday today so the traffic will not be so bad”!

As we are becoming more and more reliant on our mobile phones to stay connected my challenge for the day, other than negotiating the traffic in one piece, was to obtain an Indian SIM card. Based on my experience of getting SIM cards in other countries I had assumed this would be a straightforward process, but oh no… “Sir, I need proof of your permanent address in India” I hear repeatedly from SIM card sellers. “But I’m a tourist so I don’t have a permanent address, how about my passport?” I plead. “Sorry sir cannot, government rule since 26/11” they explain. 26/11/08 being the date of the Mumbai terror attacks in which 164 people were killed

Feeling a little despondent I cycle around the bumpy roads of Andheri (East) wondering how I can get my hands on a SIM card when suddenly through the dust and beyond a half constructed concrete flyover a beacon of light appears before me… the magical golden arches… The air-conditioned calmed interior being a welcomed relief from the heat and chaos outside. As I walk up to the counter I scan the overhead menu board, McVeggie, McChicken, Fillet-o-Fish, even a McSpicy Paneer, but no Big Mac, “What’s going on, no Big Mac!” I wonder to myself. I am just about to embarrass myself and ask where the missing Big Macs are when it suddenly clicks, ‘Holy Cow!’, of course Hindu’s consider cows sacred and do not eat beef… So a McChicken Meal it is and at $2.20 the cheapest McDonalds Meal I have ever had

The following morning, still SIM-less, I fully load the bike as I have to make my way 10km across northern Mumbai to the coastal district of Juhu. I have an appointment with Shabana Azmi, the patron of the Mijwan Welfare Society, the organisation which I have chosen to raise funds for whilst striving to be the first person to circumnavigate (as closely as possible) India by bicycle. A few media interviews had been set up and we thought it would be best for the photos to have the bike fully laden plus me wearing the custom designed cycle jerseys (provided courtesy of JoyRide Sportswear, a China based cycle clothing supplier – www.joyridecustom.com).

Shabana’s late father, the noted Urdu poet and lyricist Kaifi Azmi, believed that in a country like India where 80% of the population lives in villages, the villagers need to be empowered if the country is to make any real progress. To help facilitate this belief in 1993 he formed an NGO in the poor north Indian village where he was born, Mijwan in Uttar Pradesh, hence the Mijwan Welfare Society. To realise his dream he established a Higher Secondary School for Girls, a Computer Learning Centre and a Stitching & Embroidery School in the village. As well as improving education he set up a Farmer’s Club where the latest low cost efficient farming techniques were discussed in an attempt to raise families’ incomes. In addition a Women’s Self Help group was created to empower and encourage the participation of women in earning, small savings & micro financing. For the rest of his days Kaifi worked tirelessly for the empowerment of the people of Mijwan, especially the women. For more information regarding the work that the Mijwan Welfare Society does please take a look at www.mijwan.org.

After Kaifi passed away in 2002 Shabana took on the role of becoming the organisations chief patron. By this time Shabana had already become a noted social and women’s rights activist in India, however she was / is better known for her Indian acting career most notably in the 1970s, 80s and 90s. She is widely regarded as being one of India’s finest actresses, having appeared in over 120 Hindi films and has won numerous national acting awards. In 1984 she married Javed Akhtar a prominent lyricist, poet and Bollywood scriptwriter, cementing them as one of Indian glitterati’s most enduring couples.

With the help of Swapan I plan my route over to Juhu attempting to avoid the major express ways and head off early just to ensure I am not late for Shabana. The traffic and road conditions are much the same as yesterday, and riding the fully loaded bike, an additional 28kg, the constant stop / starting is fairly tedious to say the least. After just over an hour and only one wrong turn I arrive in Juhu and find the apartment complex where Shabana’s ‘office’ is located. As I’m 3 hours early! I take a short cycle around the Juhu area. It is one of Mumbai’s wealthier areas and comprises of winding tree-lined shady lanes and a number of ‘gated-community’ apartment blocks overlooking the sea, it is all very serene compared to the mayhem I had cycled through to arrive here (it even includes a road named after Kaifi Azmi!). After taking one of the lanes that leads down to the sea and having a quick look at the sprawling white sandy beach (shame it is generally advised not to swim in the sea due to pollution), I decide to hunt out an internet café. Easier said than done… and I end up sitting in a non-internet Western styled coffee chain, Café Coffee Day, Now when it comes to being a coffee snob I rank fairly low, however I fancied a Cappuccino, “Do you have a coffee menu?” I ask the ‘Barista’, “No sorry sir, not have. What coffee you want?”, “A Cappuccino please”, “Sorry sir not have”, “So what coffee do you have?” I enquire, “Hot or cold coffee sir” was the surprising answer…

As I sit back and sip my hot coffee accompanied by a samosa watching the world go by, I notice a shop across the road selling SIM cards. “Ah! What the heck” I think to myself, “Let’s give it another go, what have I got to lose?”. I wander over to the shop fully expecting the same futile discussion as the day before, “Hi, I would like to buy a SIM card” I tentatively enquire with a hint of desperation in my voice, “Sure, I just need a copy of your passport and visa and a photo”, he replies without the slightest hesitation – Halleluiah! Halleluiah! Halleluiah! is racing through my mind as I hand over the required documents, and within 10 minutes I have a 3G enabled Indian SIM card safely secured in my phone. “It will take about 30 minutes to activate, after that you are ready to go”, explains the vendor – once again the choral Halleluiah! Halleluiah! Halleluiah! is filling my mind. Back in the coffee shop after the 30 minutes has passed I make a test call and it works! I then test to see if the internet connection works – Halleluiah! Halleluiah! Halleluiah! accompanied by an awesome fireworks display fills my head!! “Yes, yes, yes, I am once again connected to the world!” I shout to myself. Says a lot about the world we live in when obtaining that small rectangular piece of plastic means so much…

At 3:15pm I meet Saleha, Shabana’s assistant, outside the ‘gated compound’ and after the usual pleasantries, after all we had been communicating via email for the best part of a year she leads me to Shabana’s ‘office’. We walk out of the lift and the ‘office’ door is opened… Wow! It’s not like any office I have been to before. Saleha introduces me to a couple of the Mijwan Welfare Society staff as I gaze around the apartment, as this is surely what it is rather than an ‘office’. There is a small reception area which is very sleek with futuristic transparent lucite furniture and silver domed lighting. Saleha invites me through to the next large room which is beautifully decorated, wooden parquet flooring interspersed with quality rugs, various stylish contemporary sofas break up the space, each with their own coffee table featuring beautiful fresh floral displays, and works of modern art adorn the lightly painted walls. The entire cream v coffee colour scheme is very calming and it makes for a wonderful ‘entertaining’ space. Shortly afterwards Shabana glides in looking delightful in a terracotta coloured traditional shalwar kameez, and orange scarf, wearing a big smile, “Hello Mark, I’m so pleased to meet you”, I repeat the salutations as we shake hands. Straight away she makes me feel at ease and we exchange pleasantries as I notice Shabana pointing a remote control towards the shades. As the shades begin to rise I am awestruck by what I see, floor to ceiling plate glass windows giving an uninterrupted 180 degree panorama out over the Arabian sea – breath-taking!

Meeting Shabana Azmi!!!

Over the course of the next couple of hours we exchange small talk in between the various interviews and photo shoots, including the Mumbai Times and BBC Radio. Shabana then graciously makes her excuses as she has to leave so that she can attend Lara Dutta’s (an Indian actress and former Miss Universe) baby shower. This being a celebration of pending childbirth where gifts are given to the soon-to-be parents. Traditionally the intent was for women to share their well-earned child-rearing wisdom and lesson and advise on the art of becoming a mother.

It truly was a magical afternoon and I had to occasionally pinch myself to make sure it was actually happening. Shabana is a charming, elegant and delightful woman, who is definitely doing more than most to assist those in India who are less fortunate through no fault of their own.

Shabana, Me and perhaps most importantly Dhanya (the bike)

However, the sense of feeling ‘special’ or ‘privileged’ did not last long as soon I was back fighting Mumbai’s roads and rush-hour traffic on my fully laden bike, becoming sweaty, dusty and dirty! That evening as it was my last night staying with Swapan we went out for a meal in a local restaurant where I got my first taste of Kingfisher Beer in India – Kingfisher Strong no less…

11 to 12-12-11

After a looong goodbye having drinks and farewell meals with friends and relatives over the course of a couple of weeks I was finally boarding my flight to Mumbai with the words of my sister replaying in my ears. ''I really admire and envy you for what you are doing, not the cycling part mind you! but for the whole experience you will have!”

More than a year and a half had passed since I seriously decided I was going to undertake this cycle around India challenge and here I was sat on a plane with my bicycle and all the accompanying cycle tour paraphernalia safely, (I hoped) stowed in the hold, heading for one of the most densely populated and frenetic cities in the world, in a country with over 1 billion inhabitants.

As we were taxi-ing to the runway for take-off I felt surprising calm. The nerves, apprehensions and frantic last minute organising had given way to a feeling of serenity – the calm before the storm I guessed… This was in marked contrast to Rajesh who I was sitting next to, a 53 year old bespectacled Malaysian / Indian government worker from Kuching who was re-visiting India for the first time in 17 years. He was so excited he could not stop talking, ‘’Oh Bombay will have changed so much since I was last there… I will be meeting nieces and nephews I have only seen in photographs before… everyone will have changed so much… I can’t wait to see my Auntie, she is meeting me at the airport… So what will you be doing in Bombay?”. I gave him a rather condensed reply, “Oh, I am just doing some cycling around”. “Oh, how interesting, look here”, as he searched through his bag and pulled out a rather dog-eared 1980s guide book and map of Mumbai. He unfolded the map and insisted on giving me a running commentary of all the sights in Mumbai that I ‘must’visit. Rajesh even taught me a few Hindi words which I promptly forgot…

As the plane began its descent and I looked out over the orange, white and red twinkling lights sprawling out below surrounded by inky blackness, reminiscent of an elegant bejewelled silk sari, the butterflies in my stomach woke up and with ‘Jai Ho’ the theme tune of Slum Dog Millionaire on continuous play in my mind and a big smile on my face I thought, “Well this is it Mark, here I am at the start of what is going to be the greatest adventure of my life!”

With that sense of relief I always feel when my baggage finally appears on the airport carousel I loaded up my trolley with my oversized canvas bike bag and other large shrink wrapped bag bulging at the seams with the 4 panniers and the handlebar bag it contained and trundled towards the exit. “What is this sir?” an official in a well pressed white linen uniform sternly asks, “It’s a bicycle” I reply with a smile. “How much did it cost?”, “About 500 dollars”, a little white lie. “How many gears does it have?”, “14”. Another official joins the questioning, “How old is it?”, “Ahh, I bought it in September”, “So very new then, you will have to pay customs duty”, “Pardon!” I reply incredulously, “It’s not new and I have come here for cycle tourism, to cycle around”, I explain. “How long you in India for?”, “I have a 6 month visa”. “You take the bike with you when you leave?”, “Of course”… After a few seconds of contemplation, “OK you can go”. Continuing pushing my trolley I had not walked more than 10 paces when another two officials approached me and began the same interrogation. The female uniformed official looked quite stern, yet the rather rotund black suited official was smiling and seemed impressed with my plans, “Umm cycling in India, that is very good, an expedition… by the way do you have any cigarettes or alcohol?”, “No, I have to stay healthy fit for the cycling”, I reply with a big smile. He gently laughs, does the iconic Indian head wobble and stretches out his arm in the direction of the exit, “You may leave sir, and good luck!”.

I arranged a taxi and was a little concerned how the bike would fit in, especially when I initially saw the vehicle, a small Hyundai Santro! Just as I was thinking, “This is gonna be interesting”, I noticed the roof rack, how enterprising

So many people had warned me about the Indian traffic, however after living in Cambodia for over 7 years I didn’t think it could be that bad in comparison… Before we had left the airport my taxi driver had almost knocked 3 people over and had a couple of near misses with another taxi and an auto-rickshaw. This style of driving continued as we bumped and swerved along the dimly lit pot-holed Mumbai roads towards Andheri (East), accompanied by my drivers horn honking soundtrack…

Swapan opened the door to his apartment with a big smile, “Welcome Mark, you have arrived. Come in, come in”. This was my first CouchSurfing experience, a great concept which I was now putting into practice. Swapan is a CouchSurfing old-timer and he quickly made me feel at home, even though my luggage had more or less taken over his front room. It had been a long day, my eye-lids were soon heavy and I dropped off to sleep. But not before having seen the headlines of a local paper, “90 die in Kolkata hospital inferno”… This story shared its front page space with the lighter news that Virender Shewag had scored 219 runs against the West Indies in Indore, the largest ever score by a single batsman in a one day international cricket match – he is now a national hero and is being bombarded with sponsorship deals.