We were up and away at 08:00 hrs. (without Pa Bear) and were greeted in the Pak Tea House by our usual waiter who had laid our places for breakfast! We demolished an omelette and toast and trekked off through the heat to the station. Somewhere along the line we went adrift and after several people had given us false directions, we found one who knew what he was talking about. Many Pakistanis and Indians would make up directions, nodding their heads from side-to-side, rather than admit that they didn’t know the location of your destination, or didn’t understand your question.
It seemed that we were leaving none-too-soon as riot police were amassing in the Mall and truck loads of regular “Old Bill” (police) sat expectantly in trucks along all of the main roads. We arrived at the minibus stand just as it was about to leave and bagged the prime two front seats for 3.5 Pakistani Rupees each. The back of the transit bus was crammed with human bodies, as usual for this neck of the woods, and we pulled into the melee of assorted traffic.
The way the driver used his horn you would have thought that the bus ran on noise rather than petrol! Horn blaring he weaved between tongas (a light horse-drawn two-wheeled vehicle used in India and Pakistan), bicycles, motorcycles, water buffalos, cars, horse carts and pedestrians, miraculously not hitting anything solid. We passed through a very primitive rural “housing” ghetto where man and beast languished in crude lean-to shelters by an open stagnant earth channel sewer.
At the border we filled up with Pepsi Cola before walking through Pakistani Immigration and Customs. We had to leave our bags in the Customs Hall while we went to the Passport Office and I was half-expecting and dreading a “drugs-plant” and the resultant bribe when we returned. We turned down a request from a dodgy-looking group of Nigerians to carry bundles of “sari material” across the border for them.
The border walk was very pleasant with it’s lawns and gardens, and after a vaccination check, we finally passed on to the Indian side. The open air open-plan Immigration and Customs Section passed us through quickly (as border crossings go). We then got on a bus to Amritsar for 2.5 Indian Rupees.
Marvellous looking Royal Enfield motorbikes (still made in India) were everywhere – hopefully we can acquire one for a song in Amritsar. We fought our way passed the pedal rickshaws, from the bus station, after ascertaining that there were no more buses to Jammu today. After a frustrating and circuitous route on foot we found the Youth Hostel, a haven of peace and sanity amongst the madness and poverty of the surrounding area.
We booked a dormitory bed for the night at a cost of 8 Indian Rupees and settled down in the cool cafeteria to tea and Thums (sic) Up! cola. What a marvel the International Youth Hostel Association is.
By Aug 1977, the Janata Party Government had made two demands of Coca Cola: Dilute their stake in the company and reveal the secret formula, otherwise, quit India. As expected, the Coca Cola took offence (for the secret formula demand by the Government) and decided to pack its bags. Although the Government had given one year time to Coca Cola to reconsider its case or quit, the company left no time in winding up its operations, and within the next 1 month, had already shut down most of the factories. In consequence India went ahead in promoting and distributing it’s home grown Thums Up! Cola, Gold Spot (fizzy orange) and Limca (fizzy lemon) drinks.
Note: despite the warnings in the Lonely Planet Guide Books about the hotels in Mcleod Road, two Aussies and a Dutch traveller were relieved of their travellers cheques in these very establishments, in one case from under the mattress that they were sleeping on at the time of the sneak theft. The victims were all in possession of the “West Asia on a Shoestring” travellers bible, but obviously thought that they knew better.
After a break we set off to see the home of the Sikhs, the Golden Temple. After an idle wander through the maze of rude alleys we eventually stumbled upon the temple. It was decorated to commemorate the occasion of the notorious British Massacre, so we were not welcome visitors, not least for the fact that we had omitted to cover our heads. We got a glimpse of the magnificent golden temple before being overcome by harassment and leaving in disgust.
This was despite the claim that The Golden Temple in Amritsar (Sri Harimandir Sahib Amritsar) is not only a central religious place of the Sikhs, but also a symbol of human brotherhood and equality. Everybody, irrespective of cast, creed or race can seek spiritual solace and religious fulfilment without any hindrance.
The Jallianwala Bagh massacre, also known as the Amritsar massacre, took place on 13 April 1919, when Acting Brigadier-General Reginald Dyer ordered troops of the British Indian Army to fire their rifles into a crowd of unarmed Indian civilians in Jallianwala Bagh, Amritsar, Punjab, killing at least 400 people including men and women.
Chanting and angry speeches incited the crowd from the Tannoy System as we weaved our way through the dirt and the squalor back to the Youth Hostel. I am in need of a break, as the crowds wind me up with their shouts and their incessant blaring of motor horns. These last few weeks of non-stop travel have taken their toll and I am very tired.
Despite the troubles heralded by “Time” Magazine, we saw very little evidence, save for a few armed soldiers on the streets. We had a snack meal at the hostel (a very slow process, getting served!) and we returned to our room as the power cut. We dozed until it came on again at 21:00 hrs.
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