Welcome back, one and all,
In this latest instalment we continue our journey and encounter the worst road in India... possibly.
In convoy we went, with a trio of chaps
Driving two rickshaws, without any maps.
“If we stick together,” one wisely opined
“Then this expedition far easier we’ll find.”
They all were Americans, two Drews and one guy.
Who was going alone. We came to rely
On Bill’s shiny new rickshaw that towed us for ages
When Rita was going through some difficult stages.
As the stunning sun set on a stunning first day
We found a hotel alas in decay.
The food that they offered was
still in the shop
And the noise and the bugs and
the heat was non-stop.
But over the bridge, others had
tried
To drive through a riot, police
either side.
In a massive mosque they spent
the night
Full of mosquitos, eager to bite.
We woke and set off early as could be done
Keen to continue on our Rickshaw
Run.
The roads did not follow what the
map seemed to imply,
So we stopped several times for
some naan and some chai.
We drove you in intervals of only
two hours,
Resting between while you regained
your powers.
At Alipurduar we stopped for the
night
I’m pretty sure that I’m spelling
that right.
There we found air con – “Thank
heavens! Oh bliss!”
We were weary and dusty, our pillows we kissed.
The next day out for Darjeeling we set
But the journey there was one to forget.
We went down a road in such disarray
We were so sure that it was the wrong way.
The potholes were huge; you have no comprehension
What it’s like to drive through that
with useless suspension.
We turned right around after
almost an hour
Shattered and broken and tired
and sour.
Back down that road we bumped and
we bounced
But one hour later a trucker announced
That the obstacle course we’d driven down twice
Was in fact the right way. We’d have to go thrice.
So nursing our backsides and cursing our maps
We headed back down that damned road and perhaps
We caused some amusement to a small family
That we waved at three times on road 31C.
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