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.
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.
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