Nashik 2

I've made a most unsettling discovery today. Things in India have become desperate. I'm not sure if I can go on. I've got 11 days left of my trip and only 2 Top Gear specials left to watch, Middle East and Vietnam. I've seen both a hundred times each and yet look forward to revisiting them again. In some small way I empathise with the crappy endeavour, although my hotels and support crew and way thinner than theirs. Once Top Gear is done, I'm going to have to fall back on my last unwatched box set, Babylon 5 Season 2, and I'm not looking forward to that one bit. In fact it could ruin my entire trip. Season 1 was an embarrassing shambles that I reluctantly struggled through the last time I was travelling. Hammy the Hamster could've done a better acting job than the resident B5 cast and the script was presumably put together by special needs children - 80's Sci-Fi doesn't come any worse. It was a mistake to invest in the first place. Flipping wanky Minbari's. 

I spoke to the hotel manager at some length today. I can't say I was really in the mood for pidgeon pleasantries but he'd been very good to me and I knew he only really wanted a selfie in the end, so I dug deep and revived my enthusiasm for cricket and the like. I happened to mention my long trek from Allahabad to Lucknow and he bowed very deeply and proclaimed that I was 'a very great man'. Praise indeed! He then added 'especially at your age' which took the shine off the compliment for me a touch. Cheeky bastard. I think he meant well. 

I'm going to make this the last blog entry for my trip. I think you'll agree that I've explored Indian history, culture, wildlife, and it's hotels and eateries quite fully, and to write any more would be gilding the lilly. Ive enjoyed being on the road again and I've enjoyed India. An early contributor to my online posts suggested that India is an 'unfiltered' experience. I'd endorse that view wholeheartedly. Sometimes you wish they'd just buy a fucking filter and make the place a bit more habitual - but then it wouldn't be India if they did. It is colourful and buzzy and loud and industrious. I hope my next destination, wherever that may be, proves as enriching. Namaste! 

I think this final picture from Goa sums up India for me; bright, multilayered, ancient, and a bit thrown together. 

Nashik 1

Flies. Now I know what you're thinking, this is going to be a ramble about how many flies there are in India. Well there ARE a great many flies in India, I won't deny it, but I'm not going to bang on about that today. In this case, I'm talking about the zips and fastenings that preserve a gentleman's modesty. I have in recent years, developed something of a reputation for leaving the house without having checked everything is in order down below. I have a particular habit for doing food shopping half cocked. I don't know why. Sensing a rogue breeze in Waitrose used to be accompanied by an embarrassed, huddled, fumble of repair and red face. Lately, it's has been more of a mild tut of recognition and flamboyant mid-stride flick of the wrist. I mention this, as my one and only pair of travelling shorts have slowly been falling apart. They have buttons rather than a zip. The French have a saying when a wine glass meets its end 'it is the fate of glass to break' usually accompanied by a Gallic shrug. In much the same way, buttons are fated to fall off unnoticed, never to be seen again. The last of my 4 fly buttons did that yesterday. Now I'm obviously an ambassador representing our great nation in a largely modest India, and I don't wish to cause a diplomatic incident from being over exposed. So notwithstanding my predisposition to generally ignore excessive aeration, I spent last night cannibalising my shorts and sewed a pocket button to fly using the hotel sewing kit. If I may say, I did a rather more robust job than the original garment manufacturers!

I visited the Sula Winery today and enjoyed it a lot. Hmmm. If I go too 'wine geek', I'm going to lose a lot of people. Ok, so I enjoyed it a lot ...and it was a big old place with lots and lots of wine. A tour and six tastings for about £4. I also had lunch on the balcony which was about as far away from my other holiday dining experiences as it is possible to be. 

I don't think the old guard has too much to worry about just yet, but India is clearly capable of producing a very drinkable drop. It will probably do very well against the other young guns on the block and some of its fare seems well made indeed. Nothing too refined or ageable, but well put together. I enjoyed the Tropical Brut very much, but particularly recommend the French oaked 2014 Rasa Shiraz. Punchy fruit, bold spice, and softer tannins than the American oaked cousin in the range. Well that's my view anyway. Not toooo painful was it? 

WARNING - Boring wine fact:

They harvest in the spring like Southern Hemisphere countries, even though they are Northern hemisphere and have autumn in the autumn, ...so you'd therefore think they'd harvest in the autumn, but they don't. They do it like the Aussies, who have got Autumn and Spring arse about face. A poor example to follow if you ask me, but they didn't. It's got something to do with 'the crop just grows like that you irritating know-it-all tourist'. I didn't quite understand the agronomy of it all but decided in the end not to press the point. 

Me being more or less civilised 

Lots of lovely lovely wine

Tailor made

Travelling northwards again 3

Upon arriving in Thane, and after several failed attempts to find a reasonable hotel, I stumbled across a grubby looking place that I'd walked by earlier and turned my nose up at. It was dark by the time I passed the place for the second time and somewhat desperate for a place to lay my head, I trudged in and asked if they had anything going. They did, and I tried to hide my relief while eagerly handing over my Matsercard. It turned out to be a very comfortable and not outrageously priced gem. A rare comfortable bed, staff that were desperate to please, hot water for showering with western loo, plus, four doors up from a place with a restaurant with rooftop bar. I was so pleased with my find, I stayed an extra night having explored all the nice things that Thane had to offer (a Starbucks and the big pond from my previously posted pic). As content as I'd been on my journey so far, I resolved to spend the additional evening sampling the exquisite (and by 'exquisite' I mean 'edible') delights of the elevated alcoporium. The early evening drifted into early night, and having drunk the two available 'light' beers that my chosen house of Bacchus had to offer by 7.30pm, I agreed to a bottle, in fact two bottles, of the 8% strong stuff. Carlsberg, in both its European, and newly enjoyed 'Indian strength' varieties has rarely been so readily glugged. I tottered back to my comfortable residence full of Danish joy, the tingle of a Chicken Bhuna still on my lips, and the promise of an early morning 300 degree ring piece, completely and utterly, lime pickled. 

Tender bowels or not, the following morning, it was time to leave for another trip northwards. 

I won't bang in about trains again but I did buy a 3rd class ticket today, then upgraded myself to a better class once the train had arrived as I could only fit into a 2nd class carriage. Hid under mucho luggage and managed to avoid two separate ticket checks in the process. I officially apologise to Indian Railways for bunking and the world at large for my errant moral compass. So I now find myself in Nashik, 4 hours northwest of Mumbai. Nashik is in Indian wine country, and the place I will be calling home for a bunch of days. Expect poncy wine talk in future posts!

Walked in off the street into my favourite hotel yet. Not only is it cheap, it's also worthy of the name 'hotel'. That it appears to have been cleaned at some point since construction is my clearest indicator, but the staff here are superb and worthy of mention. On discovering my Indian plug adapter was left at my previous hotel, they promptly went out and bought me a new one locally and handed it over gratis within an hour of arrival. It even looks like a hotel. Granted, it is in the middle of a field in possibly the remotest part of India I have found on my travels so far, but you can't have everything. 

Finger bowl or refreshing post-meal palate cleanser? I went for finger bowl, dipped pinkies, and got nothing more than an inconclusive raised eyebrow from the waiter in return.

I didn't fancy squeezing onto that carriage, so found another.  

Travelling northwards again 2

After a couple of days rest and recuperation, I caught my second train up to Mumbai. This time is was 400km and cost the princely sum of £1.50. There is no '3rd class' technically on Indian railways, it's '2nd class' and I won't go into all the details, but there are many different kinds of ticket one can buy for train travel, but 2nd class is basically bottom class, from a multitude of better classes, steerage if you will, and what we would commonly think of as 3rd Class. It is the only ticket you can realistically get on spec. Given that I was travelling to one of the most densely populated places on planet earth, Mumbai, it was also a bit busier - ok, I won't mince words, it was a LOT busier. Indians have no sense of personal body space, and good job too. For 6 hours, people were nuzzling my armpits, sniffing my crotch, and goosing my bottom. It felt more like a fully clothed orgy than a train ride. Top spot seems to be a horizontal lounge affair in the luggage rack, on top of the luggage. Sadly these tiny smudges of prime real estate had long since been claimed. Bad luck for me, I got to sniff and goose a rather large Indian gent who was in even worse sanitary condition than myself. All thoughts of orgies flickered and then died, mere moments after he inserted his armpit into my nose. Still and all, it was nothing more than a few percentage points worse than the daily commute to Blackfriars on Thameslink and I still rate the Indian railway system as the very best cheapest and deadly way to travel.

So I'm in Mumbai, well kind of. I'm actually in a place a shade north of Mumbai proper, Thane. Thane is pronounced 'Tar-ney' as in 'chilli con Tar-ney' and not as I thought 'Thayn' as in 'Hail Macbeth, Thayn of Cawdor'. That caused all sorts of grief at the railways ticket office yesterday. It's a city in its own right but is basically being gobbled up as Mumbai itself oozes outwards, ever growing. It is now essentially a large suburb of the super conurbation. A bit like Widnes, is to Liverpool, or Stockport to Manchester. It serves no real purpose in its own right besides providing a ready pool of labour for its bigger and on the whole more prosperous brother. That's not offensive, surely? Possibly, I know nothing about those places. Alright it's like Winnersh to Reading. Mostly pointless but with a train station. You get the idea. I need the train station here to carry me further north. It has obviously crossed my mind to travel into the heart of Mumbai as I'm here, but the place is absolutely vast, I can see it stretching out, dominating the horizon, and I know what I'll find when I get there; even more madness, even more people and even more noise. Thane has a surplus of all these qualities already, so I'm fine for now. Mumbai is permanently covered in a thick beige miasma, a poisonous airborne soup of fumes and pollution. A candy floss of carcinogens if you will. I honestly don't think it can be terribly good for the 20-ish million Mumbandians who have to live with it. 

Me avoiding the very nexus of all this foul atmosphere means that I'll miss out on a few tourist pics and taking a tour of the famous slums but not much else I reckon. Having seen, having lived, in several slums now, I don't believe I'm missing out on anything new. Besides, they are a tourist attraction now and I don't feel highly motivated to join other westerners, holding their noses, while photographing the less fortunate and generally getting in the way of people while they're fighting for their very survival. I'll stay in Thane and wait for my train. 

A seemingly tranquil Thane. It's not, but there you go. 

The best surreptitious shot of train armpits I could manage. 

The Mumbai miasma. I LOVE the smell of carbon monoxide in the morning....

Travelling northwards again 1

 caught a train yesterday from Goa to Ratnagiri. There is no reason why anyone should've heard of Ratnagiri, it's a locals town, but it happened to be a way-station on my path to Mumbai. I travelled 3rd class for the first time and it cost me 65p for the 200km journey. People make a big fuss over traveling 3rd class on Indian trains and I'm here to tell you that it's no big deal. I can't say it was terribly luxurious, but neither was it all caged chickens and carriage top clinging. It was fine and if you need to get somewhere in India and only have 65p in your pocket, then I'd say 'crack on'. If one is brave enough to sample the abundant drinks and snacks from en-route vendors, then I salute your courage. I had some chai and left it at that. 

Feeling particularly ballsy from my successful economy travel, I threw caution to the wind and had a much safer I thought, chicken tikka lunch in an economy cafe at my destination. Half way through my post lunch beverage, my body told me I'd made a horrific error of judgement and punished me by imprisoning me in the bathroom for several hours on the trot (if you get my meaning). A considerably slimmer and paler me emerged, rueing my gung-ho approach to roadside dining. I then padded lightly on the balls of my feet for a few hundred yards, before booking into the nearest guest house that promised a western loo. I'm afraid my written reading material has been sacrificed page by page for the greater good, and to ensure personal hygiene standards have been maintained. I mourn the loss of my John Grisham, but my review of his upcycled prose can be summed up as 'a touch abrasive, yet satisfyingly absorbing'. 

Interesting fact. Beer, although only found if painstakingly sought outside of tourist areas, comes in two varieties; 'normal' and 'light'. Kingfisher, Tuborg, Bud, Carlsberg and others are available and one is generally offered 'normal'. I've made the mistake to accept the offer more than once, at the cost of many many brain cells. 'Normal' is 8%. There are wines that come up that strong. After a couple of large bottles of super strength lager, one is almost always ready for bed soon after. Always go 'light' at 5% is my advice. When taken alongside volcanic MacDonalds, and cheese puffs that contain nothing resembling cheese but lots that resembles chilli, Indian food and drink should be regarded on the whole as highly flavoursome and almost as highly, lethal.

Indian railways also run a breakdown recovery service, and business is booming. 

Ratnagiri captured in a rare shot with minimal rubbish on show.

Day 18 - Lucknow

I’ve come to the end of my time tracing the steps of The Indian Mutiny. I’ve made my way along the major relief effort roads as best I can. I’ve used an aeroplane and train, a bus, a truck, some tuk tuk’s, a rickshaw, and been on the back of a few motorbikes (one of which was a Royal Enfield). I’ve also walked more than I ever have before, and covered some daily distances on foot with a backpack, that I didn’t think I’d be able to. I’ve felt mostly safe, but there have been a few moments when the traffic got the heart racing a bit faster. I’ve slept in some godawful hovels but avoided sleeping in the open at least. So it hasn’t always been comfortable. I’ve had days where I’ve only had 50p in my pocket. I haven’t always known where I was going, and I’ve been ripped off and offered the kindness normally reserved for royalty in roughly equal measure. And that’s what it’s all about isn’t it? To challenge oneself and all that. Bah! This blog isn’t about being all worthy and suchlike. It was my choice, and I’m glad I did what I did. It wouldn’t be for everyone but I got something out of discomfort, and experiencing an India that few other tourists get to see. If you want to do something similar, I heartily recommend it. A little suffering can be good for the soul. I've also seen how generous and welcoming people can be too. Where that has been the case, I honestly don't believe i would have felt that was quite as genuine if I'd paid through the nose for the privilege. I never wanted a false smile on the promise of a hefty tip, I wanted real India, and I got it. If you want to pay to be taken around in an air conditioned 4x4 by a guide, go for it. It’s all the same to me. 

I’m leaving Lucknow in the morning for an engagement elsewhere. I might come back to this blog for some more touristy stuff when I’ve had a week or so of cocktails and sun loungers (my holidays aren’t exclusively shit and bullets you know). So if you’re dedicated enough, do check back. If you’ve had enough, thanks for sticking with it. Whatever the case, do spare a thought for the reason behind my chosen route. Thousands of Indians died in their first war of independence. Thousands British Empire troops, civilians, loyal Sikhs, and loyal Sepoys for that matter, died for a cause they believed in too. It’s a sad thing, and if via this blog I’ve shone a light on these largely forgotten victims of war, then I'll take that. ‘Only the dead have seen the end of war’ - Plato.  

HISTORICAL NOTE:

Final acts - Agra relief. I jumped ahead in the timeline to wrap up the Delhi action as I was leaving the area heading East. Now that we've caught up with events elsewhere and the dates make some better sense, it's about time we revisited the shattered pride of British arms in that region. 

When Wilson sent a corps of 2790 men off to recover the ground between Delhi and Agra on 24th September, he did so knowing that retribution would be meted out on those found or suspected of treasonous action. It should not be forgotten that for all of the atrocities committed by the mutineers, the British were as rigorous in their application of field justice. 

The sight of a European female skeleton, beheaded and displayed on the roadside is one of several examples offered by Mallenson, but he chooses to gloss over the consequences endured by the local population for apparently endorsing the act of barbarity. That said, Mallenson pointedly talks in muted tones about the defenders of Agra and their less than stout rebuttals of occasional rebel cunning and trickery. I'd go further and say all I can really see is a frightened garrison being whittled away by clever tactical rebel manoeuvres. Notwithstanding, Delhi relief forces closed in on Agra and delivered a decisive victory against rebel Sepoys on the 11th October, relieved Agra, and had enough to spare to send to Sir Colin Campbell to reinforce the relief of Lucknow.

The Indian Mutiny of 1857 was not confined to the area I have walked. It was however a mostly northern Indian affair. Other actions, uprisings, and brutal atrocities were committed in the conflict but India is a large place and I only have one pair of legs. I'm glad I've covered the iconic ground as I see it. It has served to illustrate how horrible one human being can behave towards another, and how brave and unselfish people can be when dedicated to a cause or defending others. That by they way, is a commentary which is not nation specific. I guess sometimes people just get to the end of their tether and see no other way. There's no getting away from it though, some of the acts of violence in the mutiny are quite appalling and genuinely barbarous. 

I can't guess at how Mr Mahatma Gandhi reached the conclusion that nonviolent resistance would achieve his political goals, but his passive approach got results nonetheless. True, he wouldn't have been much good in a fistfight anyway, but that's not to say he didn't possess bags of courage.

I'm sorry that I have not included more accounts from the Indian side. My sources simply didn't care enough about that to recount any tales of daring from them. That's not the same as saying there weren't any. Nana Sahib is clearly remembered very differently in India from the way my sources and I have portrayed him for example. There is a small section in one source that talks of the devilish sniping from an African in the mutineers service, who eventually gets his comeuppance when he's blown up by brave Tommy Atkins, but that's about it. You'll have to go and seek out an Indian blogger if you want those stories I'm afraid. 

Of British notables, Mowbray Thompson eventually received a knighthood and died a General, Sir Colin Campbell became Lord Clyde, and a little known Lt Frederick Sleigh Roberts VC who played a significant but overall minor role in the campaign, became Field Marshal Roberts the most celebrated soldier of the Victorian age, alongside Captain, later Field Marshal Garnet Wolseley, mentioned previously in these posts.  

Sadly, when independence finally came and the British left in 1947, millions died in the partitioning of India and creation of Pakistan and Bangladesh. I imagine Mr. Gandhi was a bit annoyed by that, but that's for a different blog. 

When Havelock retreated back to Kanpur the first time and asked for 1000 reinforcements before effecting the relief of Lucknow, I noted that Neill poured scorn on his action. 'I deeply regret that you have fallen back one foot. The effect on our prestige is very bad' '....return here sharp, for the us much to do'. From the junior of the two officers, this is a remarkably insubordinate missive. I always rather enjoy Victorian language for its restraint, yet pointedness. Havelock's reply illustrates why I have some admiration for their ability to remain civil, yet get their message across clearly; 'I .....will not receive any advice from an officer under my command, be his experience what it may. Understand this distinctly; and that a consideration of the obstruction that would arise to the public service at this moment alone prevents me from taking the stronger step of placing you under arrest. You now stand warned.' 

Now that is the way to deliver a proper telling off. Much more dignified than the modern but admittedly more concise, 'oh please will you just FUCK OFF YOU INSUFFERABLE PRICK!'

For anyone wondering if I got the balls for the local cuisine in the end, here's my highly potent curry breakfast from yesterday.

My Gandhi. No good in the ring, but a respectable record in the political arena. 

The British Residency in Lucknow. Under new management.

Day 17 - Lucknow

I completely forgot to recount an embarrassing episode the other day when searching for the Bibighar memorial, so before I close the blog, which will be tomorrow’s entry, I’ll do just that. 

I've referenced the abundance of excrement in India before, and I've also said how much care one has to take in avoiding it. I've also stated that I'm walking in hiking sandals. The two came together in spectacular fashion when I was tramping along the Kanpur road and got distracted by a long line of local children, parents, and several army personnel on the pavement. As I walked down the line, I said 'hi' to one and that generated a cascade of greetings and shaking of hands as I went. Occupied by being all ambassadorial, I didn't notice the enormous cow pat ahead, and proceeded to kick the thing like a rugby conversion. Unfortunately for me, it's density wasn't substantial, and my foot sunk deep in the mire while at the same time sending globules of poo onto my hitherto adoring crowd, in a roughly 120 degree arc. I styled it out as best I could, but the previous enthusiasm for my friendly hand quickly evaporated. About a hundred yards down the road I plucked up the courage to look down at the mess, and it seemed clear even upon cursory inspection, the evening would be spent scrubbing the upper thigh downwards. I assume my victims did likewise. I must have avoided 10,000 such landmines since arriving in India, and hadn't had any incidents before or since. That I chose such a very public occasion and managed to share so freely for my only 'accident', will be the cause of a red face for the remainder of my days I think. 

The Lucknow Residency is quite a place. I went there yesterday. It isn't a single building (I had it in my head that it was) but many buildings, inside a mostly walled enclosure. It's a bit like a college campus if you like. Anyone that has the climatic scene from Carry On Up The Khyber in their head, needs to reconsider. Actually, I can see where the Carry On team got their inspiration from. Maybe it's as good an image as any, except there is more than one building to bear in mind here. Clear? Great. 

The site is as well presented as any historical site in India outside of the Taj Mahal (from what I've seen so far) and the only one to directly remember and reference The Mutiny. It is surprisingly decrepit. It has a touch of the 'Roman ruins' about it. This is in part due to the effect of artillery, and part neglect. Every building is but a shell. The grounds are kept in good order, and there were a good number of local visitors, who treat the place as part park, part historical curiosity I think. A few families were clearly interested in sharing the history with their younger members, but bunking schoolchildren and couples mainly just mooched and smooched. 

I also visited the Imambara Mosque complex. It too is a preserved historical building and seems to have survived the ravages of time rather better than the residency, but then it wasn’t the subject of a 90 siege, so I guess it would to an extent. Also occupied by mutineers, it finally fell to the British late on in the conflict. It is a very very impressive ensemble of buildings indeed. 

The residency today, incomplete with musket and artillery damage in evidence

The Imambara. A Shia icon and downright big old mosque 

HISTORICAL NOTE:

The next morning, Campbell's men took several more buildings by storm, pushing closer to the residency. In the process, Captain Garnet Wolseley (eventually Field Marshall Wolseley, one of the greatest and most celebrated Victorian generals) carried several strategic positions at extraordinary personal risk. 

At last, the residency at Lucknow was reached, and Sir Colin Campbell, Sir Henry Havelock and Sir James Outram came together, and Lucknow was finally relieved. Almost 90 days of continuous siege had passed and the survivors who had been there from the beginning could at last slump on their breastworks, or ruined outposts, consider themselves fortunate they had escaped the fate of Kanpur, and breathe a sigh of relief. 

Fighting continued but plans were made to extract true occupants back to Kanpur. On the 27th November, the Lucknow garrison, with 4000 escorts started out for Kanpur. Sir Henry Havelock was left behind in his grave along with many many other of Native and European descent. Lucknow was left in the hands of the mutineers, but the writing was on the wall for Lucknow and the rebellion. The high water mark in The First War of Independence for India had passed. 

Captured rebel Sepoys were often subjected to harsh punishment on the spot. Execution in the traditional method of the Moghul Emporors was a favourite. The subject was blindfolded and his back bound to the muzzle of an artillery piece. The piece was then fired, and bits of Sepoy were showered across the parade ground. 

The mutiny continued on into 1858, and only on 8th July 1859 did Earl Canning feel confident enough to declare a 'state of peace' now reigned throughout India, but the rebels never managed anything more than occasional tactical successes after the taking of Lucknow. It was all over bar the shouting. 

From Wikipedia;

In March 1858, Campbell once again advanced on Lucknow with a large army, meeting up with the force at Alambagh, this time seeking to suppress the rebellion in Awadh. He was aided by a large Nepalese contingent advancing from the north under Jang Bahadur. Campbell's advance was slow and methodical, with a force under General Outram crossing the river on cask bridges on 4 March to enable them to fire artillery in flank, the forces drove the large but disorganised rebel army from Lucknow with the final fighting shooting on 21 March, there were few casualties to his own troops. This nevertheless allowed large numbers of the rebels to disperse into Awadh, and Campbell was forced to spend the summer and autumn dealing with scattered pockets of resistance while losing men to heat, disease and guerrilla actions.

Day 16 - Lucknow

I had to leave my posh accommodation today. There is a big political rally in Lucknow this week and all the decent hotels are rammed. So guess what? I’m back to my usual cheap and decidedly uncheerful low rent accommodation. To lift spirits as I walked the two miles to the rough end of town, I stopped for a roadside shave. It was an old style cutthroat job with a cracked mirror and cold murky water. No glass of Prosecco, no magazine to read, not even idle chitchat about where I’d be going on holiday this year (I suppose that would’ve been a daft question). My attendant was however highly skilled and brandished his well worn blade like a circus performer. In ten minutes, I was clean shaven and he moved on to a lengthy cycle of skin care applications. oil, talc, gels, potions, lotions, spit (probably) were smothered over my fresh and zingy face. Then came the head massage, which was mostly punching and slapping, but he kept a rhythm up that suggested it was a routine, rather than a random beating. Having now got his eye in on my beard, he grabbed his scissors and begun cutting my hair. I didn’t ask him to, he was simply in the swing of grooming, and nothing was going to stop him giving me the full works. I must say, he did a super job and it only cost me £2 all in. If he ever found himself moving to Bulgaria, I’d be a regular customer of his for sure. 

I also went to the British Residency today, but I’ll leave that until tomorrow as it ties in nicely with the end of my story.

I should note for the serious reader, that the dates my sources offer for each significant action vary wildly. I still use Mallenson as my primary source of material but he seems to have a very unreliable diary if the other sources are to be credited. Hey ho. I assume no one is planning to sit an exam on the back of this short history. If they are, then good luck! If I were a real historian, I'd cross reference more thoroughly with a wider selection of sources - but I'm not, so you'll just have to accept that my dates are right up the cock in places. 

My new favourite barber absolutely inSISted on giving me a side parting. No respectable Lucknowvian is without one this winter. French crops are sooo last spring. I think I look rather dapper with it and may well adopt the style ongoing. 

The less well heeled end of town. My new hotel is a little better than this I have to say. 

HISTORICAL NOTE:

Sir Colin Campbell was a British legend. By the time became commander in chief of India, he had already served in the Peninsular War, the 1812 war against the USA, the First Opium War, and the Second Anglo-Sikh War. He was the Colin Campbell of 'the thin red line' fame at the battle of Balaclava in the Crimea, and I think he was also the 'Hero of Umboto Gorge' but I can't be absolutely certain. He arrived in Calcutta on 13th August. 

As senior officer in theatre, Campbell resolved to join Havelock and Outram in Kanpur and restore order. He was fortunate to have two highly competent subordinates in Havelock and Outram and equally fortunate to benefit from reinforcements bound for China but diverted to his aid and to help in crushing the mutiny.  He was a 'lucky general'. 'Yes, yes, yes, I know he's brilliant, but is he lucky?' asked Napoleon of a general recommended for greater things. 

Campbell arrived in Kanpur on 3rd November accompanied by a substantial forces of 5000 or so and advanced to Bani by the 9th November. 

The besieged but recently bolstered forces at the Lucknow residency actually managed to extend their perimeter and suffered far fewer assaults and shelling. News reached them on the 9th October that Delhi had been recovered and that Campbell and relief for them was but three or four weeks away. 

Campbell himself knew that he could take things steady as the residency was secure with little prospect of dire trauma. If he needed to, he could accelerate, but for now, slow and sure would preserve his strength. Campbell's bulk of numbers provided him security and the rebel Sepoys only hope was a conclusive battle to prevent relief, defeat Campbell, and destroy the residency for good. Campbell however wasn't going to be drawn. On the 16th November, he flanked the rebels and took the river route towards the inner city and the residency unopposed. Realising the deception, the mutineers shifted position and engaged. It was on this day that General Neill fell to a bullet in his brain. He was a stern and unforgiving officer, who today would be brought to book for some of the actions he ordered. He was however, given some very great praise by the men and officers under his command. He was certainly aggressive, a fine quality in a soldier. I think one might describe him today as 'driven'. Whether one chooses to accept that as too forgiving an epithet for a ruthless and impolitic senior officer, you can decide. Frankly, on balance, I suspect he was a bit of a shit, but people are rarely black or white and my sources far from objective. Neill was certainly a fairly dark shade of grey. 

An impossible assault by a few volunteers on a fortified building, the imposing and grand Alambagh, just a couple of short miles from the residency itself, resulted in British forces pouring in to the place and securing a position from where the mutineers could be assailed from above, before darkness halted operations for the night. 

Day 15 - Lucknow

Today, I've had a day off. My swanky hotel graciously found me a bit of cupboard space so I can rest my weary head again tonight, so I don't even have to go and hunt for another place to stay. 

Wifi is everywhere in India, even in the most rural locations I've found. For the most part though, it's broken. This is often to do with the iffy power supply it seems. Sometimes, a place will say it has wifi to get customers through the door but then just doesn't have it - has never had it - will never have it - only the sign saying it has it. Signs are fairly cheap, actual wifi costs money. Welcome to India. I don't need wifi to travel, but it's nice, especially when you're having a chai break or something, or wanting to post a blog entry, or wanting to reassure friends and family that you didn't die in a horrific train crash. I also have a fair amount of business correspondence that I like to keep on top of when I can. 

I did try and get a local SIM card in a reputable network providers store back in Agra. That's the way to stay connected in India. The locals rely on that, never wifi. Wifi is for tourists and that's why it only works 5 minutes per day where it can be found. I discovered that the paperwork for a local SIM card runs to volumes and must include a place of residence. My hotel in Agra refused to give me a letter saying that I was resident, because I was, but for only one night, and they didn't believe that I needed the letter to get a card. Mostly though, they were a bit busy and couldn't be arsed to help. I also tried the guy in the street method. One of those roadside booths that sells water, snacks and phone top-ups. The (very helpful on this occasion) chap in the booth confidently assured me that a SIM card would be no problem and emptied a dozen grubby used SIM's from his pocket onto the counter. 20 minutes later I could be seen fleeing from the scene, banging my precious phone on the side of my head trying to encourage it to boot up again. The vendor himself, simply smiled and shrugged as I made my escape. ....But he seemed so sure he could do it!

I eventually found myself a quiet spot and managed to revive the phone, vowing not to try to get an Indian SIM card again. 

So anyway, I was passing a Vodafone store today, went in, and got a local SIM. Am now online and we don't need to revisit this topic again. 

My hotel happens to close to the Lucknow studios. I caught a location shoot between takes, but failed to persuade the crew that I'd be a good Bollywood extra for the day. 

Sunset from my hotel rooftop bar last night. 

HISTORICAL NOTE:

On the 22nd September, the sentries of the Lucknow residence heard a smart cannonade from the direction of Kanpur. Havelock was coming. Havelock was in fact now facing the main strength of sepoy resistance along his line of advance and fighting a fierce frontal action. Both he, and Outram had to use all their experience and knowledge of the military arts to go around, assault, bombard and charge the bridges, turns and obstacles that lay in the road ahead. Valour and casualties on both sides were abundant.

On the 24th, residency observers saw people fleeing the city with bundles on their heads and at 4pm, there were sightings of British officers and men in the distant streets. The defenders of the residency let out deafening cheers and soon the relief column entered the residency grounds to the external gratitude of those within. 
Katherine Bartrum was one of those overjoyed to see the relief column. She hadn’t seen her husband for four months and knew he was with them. She learned from a fellow officer that he had shared a tent with him the previous night and she knew he would most likely arrive with the heavy artillery in the morning. In the morning, she put on the clean dress she’d been saving throughout the siege and waiting for him. In the evening, she took her son the the Residency roof to scan for him as the last members of the column arrived. The following afternoon, she confided to the surgeon ‘how strange that my husband is not come in’. “yes, it is strange’ said the surgeon. It was left to the wife of the Residency padre, Mrs. Polehampton to break the news that her husband, Surgeon Robert Bartrum, had been shot dead within sight of the main Residency gate. Mrs. Bartrum lost her son the following February, the day before she was due to sail home to England. 

The trouble was, Havelock no longer led a relief column. It had been so battered by the fighting to get into Lucknow, there was no way it could make the return journey to Kanpur with women and children in tow. Losses amounted to 200 dead and over 500 wounded (I won't challenge Mallenson's figures but they should probably be treated with some caution). The relieving force had become, in effect, merely reinforcements for a siege yet to be broken. 

Lucknow would need relieving once more. It's about time we met Sir Colin Campbell.

Footnote: It appears to me that Sir Henry Havelock was one of those few Victorian Generals that lived up to the hype. Great Britain had many generals to choose from in the Victorian era, some had the look, some the fancy name, some, the luck. Most however, were privileged and precious few earned the title on merit alone. Some were dangerously incompetent. 

Havelock found himself in the right place and at the right time to make a name for himself but also the talent for it. He was a bold, brave general (he had 7 horses shot from under him on his drive to relieve Lucknow) pious to a degree, and not known for achieving his aims through brutality to his men or his opponents. He did have faults, particularly when we view him through modern eyes, but for a man of his time, he is deserving of some credit for his service to the British Empire.

On the 24th November 1857, Sir Henry Havelock succumbed to dysentery and died In Lucknow, likely brought on by anxiety and fatigue. 

Day 14 - The Road to Lucknow

Quick question. Can one actually live off peanuts? I mean, they're salty and you need that right? Plus that have fat in them, which isn't great but you need a bit of that too in moderation. Low in carbs aren't they? People say that's good. I'm going to give it a go and see what happens. I had a lime flavoured drink the other day, so I'm good for Vitamin C at least. 

Actually, the big problem is street food. Tons of it about, none of it worth the risk. Meat is simply not an option here. Not for the likes of me anyway. It just isn’t safe. Veggies are fine, but they’re all washed and prepared in the same water that contains all the bugs and nasties that you really don’t want to have in your tummy. Tourists are advised to 'go for 4/5 star restaurants in the decent parts of town', but I’ve been waaaaay out in the sticks where a restaurant, let alone a good restaurant, is impossible to find. The only options are to eat packet food or take a risk. Thusfar, I’ve avoided taking big risks, because I didn’t want to spare the time being unwell on a schedule, and give my gut a chance to acclimatise. I’m now far enough in that my stomach will have built up some resistance, plus, I’d really like to try some of the local cuisine. So I’ve slowly been getting more adventurous (aside from the trip to McD's). I've had a few curries in the towns along the way and they've been really great! I hope to remember some of their names at some point and share some culinary tips.

I am now in Lucknow. Having started off somewhere in the vicinity of Bani, a tired, dusty, foot sore and definitely shoulder sore, walker and amateur historian, picked up a ride just before the city limits. I won't describe my transportation, I think my mother has gone through enough of late. 

I've decided to treat myself to a properly nice hotel for a change. Unfortunately they only have a room for one night, but I could do with a decent bed and the expense... well I'll worry about the bill in the morning. 

Accommodation: Sublime

Food: Getting there

Walking: Done! 

My lovely lovely hotel. 

The Hindustan Ambassador (Morris Oxford in a previous life) was still being produced in India until 2014 and here in surprisingly generous numbers.

I don't think I'll ever pass these signs and not look twice. They're everywhere. Everyone should know, but I guess some reading this may not, Hitler stole this ancient religious symbol for his own. ...I'm pretty sure everyone does know that, I just want to clarify before anyone trolls me. 

HISTORICAL NOTE:

Havelock advanced on Lucknow with less than 1500 men all told and fought all the way up the road. His losses began to mount and on the 5th August, he sent word that he would need a further 1000 men in order to effect a relief to Neill to be forwarded to Canning in Calcutta. Neill poured scorn on his demands and this probably forced Havelock to reconsider, and continue his advance regardless. On the 10th and 18th August, and then on 5th September, the rebels made their second, third and forth grand assaults, again beaten back, but time was running short. The rebels knew that frontal attack wasn't the way, but famine and sickness would soon see the residency fall. 

Sir James Outram was given overall command of the Kanpur region and sought to aid Havelock but his reinforcements were some distance away. Havelock made two attempts to advance along the road to Lucknow, and was forced to turn back, regroup and have another go with dribs and drabs of reinforcements as they arrived on the scene. The trouble was, as hard as he and his men fought, the Sepoys proved his match, and he simply didn't have the resources to force entry into Lucknow. 

Sir James Outram arrived in Kanpur on 16th September with two regiments, the 5th Fusiliers and 90th, along with artillery support. In an unusual step for the time, Outram decided that Havelock had such a grip on the situation, he should retain command in the field and take credit for the relief effort, despite Outram outranking him. 

Now with 3179 men of all arms, on the 19th September they advanced. On the 21st, the swept aside a rebel force at Magawara just over the Ganges river, and paused in Unnao for rations, before pushing on to Bashirat Ganj for the night. A sixteen mile march on the 22nd took them to Bani, where they assaulted the bridge and fired an artillery salute to alert the defenders of the residency to their proximity.  

Day 13 - The Road to Lucknow

Cows. The problem with making cows ‘holy’ and leaving them to do what cows do without proper husbandry, is that given enough time, you end up with a lot of cows. Not that I mind terribly. I mean they don’t cause me a lot of grief, but wandering cows only add to an already chaotic and shaky infrastructure, and there are a lot of wandering cows. I have taken the time to photograph some cows, just in case anyone doesn't know what they look like, and I can honestly say, I have never seen so many cows lowing (I only know that cows low - I don’t really know what else they do) than I have in India. What I do know, is that McDonalds don’t make use of them, on religious grounds. I know this, because I had a McDonalds last night. I had a Maharaja Mac, which is chicken based rather than beef, and fries. The fries were fine, but the M Mac had pickles in them that turned out to be chilies, that blew my flipping brains out. I have never not finished a Mcd’s, not ever. Last night, i emptied my half full tray into the bin, hungry as I was, on the basis that my McDonalds was far too spicy for me to finish. I NEVER thought I’d be girly enough to say THAT in - my - life. Right now, I would honestly happily slaughter a cow and roast it in the street for the sake of a decent steak and sod the blasphemy.  Please dear Ganesh tell me my blog isn’t being read in India? 

I'm in a roadside stop for the night and with some shaky wifi have discovered that there has been a terrible train crash around Kanpur killing at least 96 people. I suppose those who think this trip is a bad idea aren't likely to be reassured by this news, although I hope my Facebook post saying that 'I'm  fine' went some way to doing so. What they didn't see was the guy who got taken out by a motorcycle about 5 yards in front of me on the other side today. I mean, really taken out. Like a bowling pin. And that's why I walk in the wrong side of the road facing traffic people! 

I want to do the Lucknow walk in two days. Another night in a shack with mosquitoes is about all I can bear. My skin is beginning to take on the texture of a novelty condom. so I took a bus to Unnao (just the other side of the Ganges from Kanpur) and started from there today. It saved me 12km or so and you don't get much out of walking the suburbs of an Indian city anyway. I'll probably get close to Lucknow and see if I can catch a ride in or something tomorrow. That should mean I get the roadwalk I want and do it in two reasonable hops of 17 or so miles each. Today was about that, and frankly, my shoulder is killing me. My feet, tho tired and blistered, aren't too bad, but straining my shoulder meant my chai stops today were becoming more frequent. If tomorrow IS my last day of walking, I won't feel too bad about any of it. 

Roadside monkey business. 

Some cows.

HISTORICAL NOTE:

Havelock closed the Kanpur campaign with 1100 men. With 227 additional offered up be Neill, it was a small number to contemplate the relief of Lucknow, however if he were to save Sir Henry Lawrence and the other occupants of the residency, he knew he must try.

Sir Henry meanwhile, recognising his vast perimeter and paucity of manpower had tightened his belt. A reworking of the defences had resulted in a number of strongpoints with lightly garrisoned connecting works. 

As soon as the residency had been sealed, rebel musketry, roundshot and matchlock fire upon it commenced and continued without pause. Sir Henry had moved his command post from an exposed and dangerous position to one of supposed safety on the second day of the siege. While conducting a meeting with subordinates, a rebel howitzer shell entered his place of refuge, exploded, and wounded him fatally. Sir Henry Lawrence lingered but died on the 4th July. 

The compound continued to suffer from the effects of rebel fire and loss of both life and property mounted. Lawrence's nephew, George, gained the Victoria Cross on the 7th for a sortie of great daring and there are numerous recorded acts of gallantry in addition to his. On the 20th July. The rebels made their first grand assault, which was beaten back, but if another massacre were to be avoided, Havelock would have to hurry. Leaving Neill to garrison Kanpur, Havelock crossed the Ganges with the intention of relieving Lucknow, on the 25th July.  

Day 12 - Kanpur

I went again today to find the Bibighar memorial, in commemoration to a particular group of people who died in Kanpur in 1857 (see historical note below). The location of the memorial was meant to be on the site where the event took place, however it wasn't. This historic site is now a small park, adjoined to a fairly well kept cricket pitch. Two artefacts of note remain, one, a well, which formed part of the story I have been tracing. The other a bust. The well itself is hidden under a large concrete circle, and presumably the memorial itself was placed around that. Of the history, or significance of the place, there is no mention. It is simply an anonymous circle of concrete. A bust of a well to do Indian gent now stands where the original memorial would've sat comfortably. I'm guessing it is Nana Sahib. The park bears his name after all. 

I found myself saddened by the anonymity and rewriting of architectural history, of the large scale dumping of waste and the endemic vagrancy within the park boundary, but understanding of why. 

The tone of what remains and what has been moved to another place, seems clear. I imagine if I were Indian, I too would want to put my forebears front and centre and sideline ancient colonial oppressors. I can’t blame them for that. 

While enjoying the hospitality of the club yesterday, the chairman indicated that the memorial I was after had been moved some time ago, and gave me a place I could try and look for it. A 2 mile stroll later, I found myself outside the Cawnpore Club, in a very large military cantonment, asking if anyone knew about the memorial. No one had a clue what I was on about, so I wandered for a bit and on the verge of giving up, stumbled across the thing, in a sprawling churchyard a little way up the street. Not quite neglected, but not exactly cared for either, I found the once grand Bibighar memorial very moving. It was erected in the Gothic style, to remember a specific set of persons (see below) but for me it caused me to pause for thought for all those combatants and casualties of the 1857 Mutiny, on both sides of the conflict. That the Indian authorities shifted the stonework 2 miles from where the event took place and left it there to decay, gives me at least, some sense of how the mutiny is remembered, or not, today. 

I should say that in both my blog and the attached historical notes, I tend to flip between the old spelling and new spelling of place names. Apologies, I guess it gets confusing and to an extent it’s a bit of laziness on my part not to include both when it might help to do so. I generally use the modern version so anyone wishing to trace my journey on a map. In some cases though, it doesn’t read ‘right' to use the new name. 'The Cawnpore Club' is named as I have written it and it hasn’t changed its name to ‘The Kanpur Club’. The massacre is remembered in history texts as ‘The Cawnpore Massacre’ so I have continued to use that too. You’ll see other examples of where I’ve taken liberties but not highlighted them throughout the blog. You’ll have to do a bit of interpreting I’m afraid. 

What remains of The Cawnpore Massacre site today. 

The Bibighar Memorial opposite The Cawnpore Club. 

HISTORICAL NOTE:

Sir Henry Havelock was a Victorian general in the classic mould. A 62 year old career soldier, born to lead, educated, dashing, well bred, everything one would associate with a moustachioed and straight backed Victorian military gentleman. 

Hearing on the 2nd June, but doubting the veracity of the fall of Kanpur, Sir Henry, with 1200 men and six cannon (having been given command over Neill) hastened to catch up with the enthusiastic Colonel and in Renaud's wake. He found only deserted villages en route. A sign of Neill's and Renaud's diligence. 

Eventually, the two columns met on 12th July in the small village of Belanda, four miles from Fatehpur, where the rebel army was waiting for them. 

The battle that resulted, saw the British on this occasion, victorious. The rebels had marched 50 miles and only expected to face Renaud. Havelock had driven his men 24 miles without food, but his accurate rapid fire Enfield rifles had seen the British through with but a single casualty. 

Havelock continued his advance after a days rest. He was contested several times on the way and in one of these skirmishes, Renaud fell victim to a sepoy bullet and died. 

22 miles from Kanpur, on the 16th July, Havelock received word that the hostages were still alive, and that Nana Sahib was ready to receive them with 7000 Sepoys before the gates to Kanpur. Only one of these pieces of intelligence were true. On the 15th July, seeing that Kanpur would be reclaimed by the British, Nana Sahib, or one or his acolytes, (it remains unclear exactly who) ordered the massacre of the 200-odd women and children held in captivity. Sepoys were ordered to fire a volley into the small house they occupied - which they did. They were then ordered to go in and bayonet those that remained - which they apparently did not. The job was finished by some butchers hired for the purpose. There were no survivors, and the corpses were thrown down a well outside. The house of incarceration, known as the Bibighar - or house of the ladies - was said to have been ankle deep in blood when found. 

Havelock won the hard fought battle outside Kanpur, and entered the city with his forces depleted but victorious. Nana Sahib disappeared and was never to be heard of again. He is revered in Indian history as far as I have learned. One mans revolutionary is another mans freedom fighter, and deception and cunning are two sides of the same coin. My sources present themselves as unashamedly British-centric and it is difficult to filter the truth from the rhetoric. 

The Cawnpore (Kanpur) Massacre, was met with fury and horror back home in the papers and by brutal retribution in the field. It is said that British troops went on an alcohol fuelled riot of rape and murder. The supposed perpetrators (or handy substitutes) were forced (and this is not attributed to Havelock in my sources) to lick the floor of house clean with their tongues, before being executed for their efforts. 

Havelock now turned his attention to the relief of Lucknow in the hope that he could prevent a similar gruesome outcome.

Day 11 - Kanpur

I went looking for a site of historical interest today and all I found was a cricket match. 

Foiled in my attempt to locate the memorial I was after, I sat and pondered my next move. As I was a bit tired, I pondered for quite a while. In time, I gathered quite a following and soon made friends with the club illuminati. It turned out that this was the final of a two day tournament, and I had arrived as the finalists were about the begin the first chukka. Several cups of chai and some Bombay mix later, I was formally invited to await the outcome of the match from the grandstand. 

I was seated alongside the great and the good and stayed there until a winner emerged. As medals and prizes were handed out, I clapped politely from my position of prominence and then it was time for the speeches. Last up was the Chairman of Selectors for Kanpur. He graciously addressed the crowd in English for my benefit. As he closed, he uttered the immortal sentence 'and now for a few words from our honoured guest, Mr. Neil'. Cue rapturous applause and 50 pairs of eyes turned in my direction. 

I was in truth, caught a little on the hop. Sitting in my natural space, side by side with the sporting and administrative greats of Kanpur didn't faze me much. Offering an Englishman's perspective of why cricket is so important and how it can shape a young mans future, ought to be something one dedicates a bit of preparation to. 

I was however, brilliant. Concise, pithy, bags of pathos, and even a bit about 'hands across the ocean' and how cricket is 'a game without borders' etc etc. None of my usual waffle I'm glad to report. More applause, thunderous this time, and I think I even caught sight of a tear or two from those who found it all too much. I stayed for a good fifteen minutes afterwards for pictures and handshakes. I made sure everyone had a pic that wanted one (all of them - twice) and enough material to hang on their bedroom wall, before promising to write and finally taking my leave. 

They were a lovely lovely bunch and made me feel very welcome and genuinely included. I like cricket now and I like Kanpur too. 

The memorial hunt continues tomorrow. 

Accommodation: Glorious. A very fine 2 star with wifi, running hot water and western loo. 

Food: Hot hot hot!

Walking: 75 miles over 4 days I think. I can’t be bothered to do the exact tally. I need a rest. 

My first sight today of the mighty Ganges. 

The stars of tomorrow 

The VIP box

HISTORICAL NOTE:

Relief forces so desperately needed by General Wheeler at Kanpur, simply didn't exist. A smattering of Sikhs and Europeans, plus the 13th Irregular Cavalry Regiment and the 37th Native Infantry, under the command of the ageing Brigadier George Ponsenby was all there was to hand. Wheeler had to rely on the promised reinforcements by Canning from further afield. By the time these reinforcements could be assembled, Wheeler would already be lying dead on the backs of the Ganges. 

Colonel Neill's commanded the 1st Madras Fusiliers and was highly thought of. The Fusiliers had arrived in Calcutta as reinforcements from South India and made their way to Banaras (modern day Varanasi). with all haste. While Kanpur is the strategic centre point of northern India, Banaras is its geographical. A distance of nearly 500 miles from his point of departure. With news of Wheelers demise, came with it the plight of the female hostages in desperate need of rescue at Kanpur, and speed was critical. Upon his arrival, Neill found Banaras to be in a state of virtual anarchy and immediately sought to disarm the 37th, on the verge of revolt. The affair was mishandled, and a firefight broke out between the 37th and the rest of the assembled garrison. Chaos followed, and many of the Native troops from all regiments took the opportunity to revolt, taking their arms with them into the countryside, and not before several deaths on both sides. Eventually, calm was restored and Banaras for the moment, remained in British control. On the 9th June, Neill set out for Allahabad. His journey there was not without incident, and no doubt fired up by the powder keg atmosphere in Banaras, Neill set about decimating every sign of dissension along the way. Mallenson presents a heroic picture of Neill in typical Victorian fashion. My other sources imply a harshness that counters Mallenson's admiration. 

Having reached Allahabad and causing more destruction, on the 30th June (my sources disagree on dates but I'll continue with Mallenson's account), he dispatched 300 Sikhs and 400 Europeans as an advance column in the direction of Kanpur under the command of Major Renaud. 

Major Sydenham Renaud set out on 9th July. Renaud was a student of his master, and not a man who put a lot of store in 'hearts over minds' warfare it seems. He marched through villages hanging as he went. Times correspondent William Russell recorded, 'a batch of twelve men were executed because their faces were turned the wrong way when they were met on the march'. Renaud hung bodies a foot from the ground to provide food for pigs it is said. Still, progress was made, and Renaud made camp within striking distance of Fatepur to await further orders.