Industrial Punjab
Chandigarh to Amritsar, 27th September - 2nd October
I spent a couple of days in Chandigarh, staying with some relatives I hadn't met before but who were very pleased to host me. By a happy coincidence, I was there at the same time as the MiG-21 retirement ceremony, where the old Russian fighter jet was being flown for the last time by the Indian Air Force - a bit of family bonding as my uncle brought us out to a random field on his motorbike to watch it. I didn't get to see much of the city centre, sadly, only managing to squeeze in a visit to the Rock Garden, a walk through a "garden" made entirely of recycled household materials.
While there, I learnt that Chandigarh is the only city in India that has cycle lanes. I didn't get to try them myself, but from what I saw from the car window they did seem to be separated from traffic, which was much better than I'd expected. It's strange to think that this is the only place like this in a country of more than a billion people. I've also heard that there are just a couple of cities in India where the tap water is clean enough to drink (and Chandigarh isn't one of them). There's a city for anything, but there's no city for everything.
After Chandigarh, I was excited to properly enter Punjab. The idea was to get to Amritsar, all the way west towards the Pakistan border (a major tourist attraction in its own right). Lahore, which used to be the capital of Punjab, was given to Pakistan in the partition, and Amritsar is India's best answer to its loss. I'd been there once before with my family, visiting an aunt, and I was looking forward to going back. I'd stop by a couple of Punjab's other major cities on the way, too: Ludhiana and Jalandhar.
Punjabis have a lot of stereotypes - big partiers, big drinkers, big meat eaters, generous hosts - and on my first day in the state I was already seeing evidence of their veracity. One young guy on a motorbike quite seriously invited me to his house for chai after we'd been talking by the roadside for all of five minutes. He had, of course, begun by asking for my Youtube channel, before showing me his own channel, where he'd been posting every day in the hope of getting famous. I took him up on his offer of chai (why not?) and held onto his shoulder for three kilometres like a sidecar as he took us to his village.
His family, as he had told me on the way, was a bit poor, and their house reflected that. Made of concrete, it had one main room with a bed, a wall fan, and a TV, with a kitchen area to one side partially divided by a wall. I met his mother and his young niece, who was apparently too shy to talk to me, and of course he immediately offered me a glass of water on arrival. Taking a sip, I belatedly realised it was probably tap water - something which I have been repeatedly warned against drinking. Feeling incredibly guilty, I awkwardly explained that I have a 'foreign stomach'. What a visceral indicator of class difference - my stomach is too fragile to have even his water. Thankfully, he was completely chill about it and told me to drink the filter water from my bike bottles instead.
With that sorted, we sat on the bed with his niece (watching cartoons) and he started showing me all sorts of pictures from his camera roll, explaining the memories. I loved it - I was learning loads about what his life was like, and I didn't have to do much talking. He told me about places he'd been to in India like the Golden Temple in Amritsar and hikes in Himachal Pradesh, and about his Holi party at work (he's a security guard) where they got thoroughly wet and colourful and ate bhang pakoras.
I made my exit before lunch - his mother had started talking about what she'd make, and I realised they would quite happily keep me for another hour. I think I quite disappointed his mother by not staying to eat, but I really did want to get moving again. I also would've felt a bit wrong accepting more hospitality from a family who, while not struggling to eat, definitely have less than me. I don't think that rationally makes much sense, and they clearly wanted to feed me, but I couldn't help the feeling. Saying goodbye to my new friend, I gave a pack of biscuits to his little niece and was given a hundred-rupee note with a solemn request to donate it at the Golden Temple when I reached Amritsar. I was quite touched at his trust in me, and it felt like I had more of a mission now to fulfil my promise.
I'd been intending to stop in Bassi Pathana, which Wikipedia told me was "well known for being Asia's first market for sewing machines", but had trouble finding a place to stay. The man in charge of the big gurdwara was apparently gone for the day and I couldn't stay without his okay, and I was directed to a Hindu mandir across the town - all while, naturally, children were honking my bicycle horn. There, I was given langar (apparently not just a Sikh thing around here) and, after some drama which I didn't entirely follow, a room with a bed to rest. I got weird vibes from the mandir, though. The whole place seemed to be about worshipping a particular dead woman, and I found it hard to rest in the bed with ants crawling on me. Images of bedbugs haunting me, I said my thanks and left the town. I ended up staying at the beautiful historical gurdwara in Fatehgarh Sahib - and in a room with fewer ants. I wasn't too annoyed by the rerouting, since I'd been recommended to visit Fatehgarh Sahib anyway, but it meant that the next day I'd have more direct highway riding than my typical village-roads routing.
It wasn't just any highway, either: this was the Grand Trunk Road (or GT Road), an ancient route that's been upgraded over the centuries to match the demand. Thankfully, like a lot of Indian highways, it's often got a service road running alongside it so I was sometimes separated from the main carriageway. With noisy traffic next to me and not much to look at around me, I put my head down and just rode without distractions towards Ludhiana. To my surprise, I still ended up chatting to locals, as people pulled up beside my on their motorbikes and scooters, or when I stopped for water and snacks on the roadside. It seems village routes aren't actually needed if you want to talk to people.
Over the next few days I rode on through Punjab's industrial cities Ludhiana and Jalandhar, then to Beas, stopping for an afternoon in Kapurthala to see my grandfather's old house. Finally, from Beas I reached Amritsar, where I've got more relatives.
I'd been hoping to enjoy the bigger-city vibes in Ludhiana and Jalandhar, but soon realised that “industrial city” meant that there wasn't much to do in the city centre apart from wholesale shopping or getting a street snack. I stayed a day in Ludhiana and did enjoy walking around, at least - watching welding or sewing through open shop doors, and sorting out a few errands. The city centre can be a tiring place to be, though - with little public space except the road, I found myself constantly moving, dealing with traffic, uneven ground, and dogs, and eventually craving somewhere quiet to just sit down. I began to understand why middle class young Indians hang out in malls, places which I usually dismiss as sterile and overly consumerist.
I didn't see Ludhiana's malls, but I did see its posh mock-European shopping area in the outskirts, Paragon Waterfront. I’d been told I should go there to see a Dandiya show for the festival of Navratri, but on arrival I really wasn't feeling it. A big sealed-off events space with extremely expensive tickets by Indian standards, it seemed like something to go to to take Instagram pictures with your friends in your fancy outfits. I spent the night in instead, catching up with family, and regretted that I hadn't taken any time to myself to see the more lively city of Chandigarh when I'd been there.
Big cities in India sometimes put me in mind of Victorian London: crowded, loud city centres containing slums and markets, while the richer residents stay in the outskirts with guarded developments, household staff, and shiny malls. It's miles away from what I'm used to in Europe, with beautiful old town centres and tiny, expensive centrally located flats. I tried going for an evening walk in Jalandhar, and soon realised it would not be relaxing so much as educational. I found myself walking down the GT road with continuous traffic, almost nonexistent pavements, and no street lights. Where there was pavement, there would often be people sleeping on it, something I'm guessing is related to the opioid problems I've heard about here.
For all my complaints about Ludhiana and Jalandhar, I absolutely can't fault them on their food. Punjabi food is rich and delicious, and I often struggled to finish the big portions despite my cycling appetite. Butter chicken, chole bhature, dal roti, samosas, steamed momos - all brilliant. I even, to my slight shame, ate at a KFC and enjoyed the Indianised fried chicken as a change from more authentic local cuisine. This is the first time I've been in India long enough for dal and roti to actually feel like a boring meal, and since I'm going to be here for so long, I think it's okay for me to eat Western food sometimes when a bigger city gives me the chance.
I also had another demonstration of Punjabi hospitality on the road, when I stopped for a snack and (of course) ended up answering the staff's questions about my trip. I mentioned that I was thinking of staying in a proper hotel that night since I'd been needing a real warm shower to wash my hair (gurdwaras are typically a bucket and jug situation), to which they immediately replied that I could wash my hair there. I thought they might be referring to the restaurant toilet, but no - I was led upstairs to the rooftop, where there was a bathroom with a real shower and hot water. Generous of them, and I was most happy to take up the offer.
My final stop before Amritsar was Beas, on the river Beas. It's one of the five rivers that give Punjab its name, but the town itself was expectedly small and uninteresting. That's not a problem for me: uninteresting towns still have a lot to teach me about what's normal here, and I need a night off sometimes too. Unlike in Europe, where I'd sometimes have a night by myself in my tent, I'm always staying in civilisation here. For the sake of my mental health, I've decided to treat some of these smaller towns as the equivalent of a night in the tent: reading, writing, catching up with friends, and sleeping.
I got into Amritsar on Dussehra, and passing through villages I saw plenty of children out playing who were very curious about what I was doing. They were also preparing for the evening celebrations, with masks and effigies of Raavan to burn. These were sometimes adorably local - I saw one Raavan effigy which was human-sized and dressed up in a hoodie and tracksuit bottoms. I didn't stop much in the villages, though, since I wanted to get into the city proper before the day got too hot.
I want to spend a few days in Amritsar - it's a fun city and I'd like to take some time to see it more as well as spend time with my aunt. It's also a good opportunity to get some errands done, and I intend to get a new chain and cassette on my bike at Decathlon. After Amritsar, I'm thinking of turning south and heading towards Rajasthan, but there's still plenty of Punjab before that.