It was genuinely remarkable how tribal the people in the mountain regions were. They
didn’t merely look Mongolian, with their round faces and rosy cheeks, but were
dressed in red, blanket-like shawls. They further carried their wares in woven baskets
upon their backs, hanging from straps around their foreheads. Now and then, I had
the urge to tell the driver to let me off as I was dreadfully sorry for missing out on
cycling this fascinating part of India. A person is far removed from the land and the
people on a bus, especially when used to travelling by bicycle.
I must’ve lapsed into a slumber as I woke with a start and found myself in Guwahati.
I stumbled off the bus and, somewhat disorientated, rode into the city. Once
showered, a short amble brought me to the train station to buy a Delhi ticket. The
rules required the bike and panniers to be booked beforehand, and all forms were
completed in triplicate. (It must be a leftover from colonial times.). Although the
luggage fee was more than my ticket, the fare remained a bargain.
Returning to my abode, I marvelled at all India is. A place where milk tea is brewed
on street corners and where kids play cricket on each grassy patch. Cricket matches
were cheered on enthusiastically by onlookers (one could even get a haircut while
watching the game), and friendly homeless people occupied the sidewalks. Enjoying
an authentic roti served smothered in curry sauce at a sidewalk eatery, a remarkable
calm came over me and I felt 100% at home.
The final leg of my public transport was in sight. The train was due at 6h15 the
following morning, and the reception desk promised to wake me at 5h00. Still, it
didn’t mean it would happen. This was, after all, India.
Guwahati – Delhi by train
Surprisingly, my phone rang at 5h00, I hurriedly showered and then trundled to the
train station. A quick check on the bicycle and panniers revealed they were already at
Platform 7. Unfortunately, delays made for a long wait before the train finally arrived.