Varanasi to Raxaul
The city traffic was quite heavy and seemed normal for that time of day. We were delayed getting under a railway bridge as it felt like half the city was trying to cram their vehicle though this 2 lane underpass. Finally after lots of honking and hand waving we squeezed under the bridge and emerged to tackle the traffic coming in the opposite direction. Slowly we made our way out of the city and eventually hit open country. The first half hour was fine, we did see groups of people who looked like they were gathering for some kind of event but it appeared peaceful enough. The first sign of trouble was a line of bricks laying across the road. As we pulled up 2 or 3 young men appeared but on seeing we were westerners stood by and watched as we moved the bricks to let the bus through. This sort of thing happened several times in the next hour before we arrived at a road block manned by about 50 people. They were not happy to see us and insisted we could not pass, the crowed got more restless and I was worried it could turn nasty so I got everyone onboard then drove the bus straight through the road block and got out of there as quick as possible. A few stones were thrown but no damage luckly. At the next road block it was the same and as we were trying to talk our way through a Sundowner bus pulled up behind us. They had had the same problems so we agreed to stick together, safty in number we thought.

Traffic in Varanasi
After a few more holdups we reached the outskirts of a town where a rally was being held about this so called "Day of Action". They were surly not going to be pleased to see us. The plan was to drive in close convoy as fast as possible with hope that the element of surprise would get us though. I volunteered to go first, we raced in with the airhorns blowing cutting a path through the crowd. Stones were thrown but none hit us, they got the Sundowner bus behind and he lost 3 windows with 1 passenger hurt. Having made it out into open country again I realised we couldn't go on like this we have to get off the road. Not ten minutes out of the town we came to a bridge that had been washed away with no means of crossing the river. We have to go back the way we had just come! The Sundowner driver was not prepared to go back through the town, I don't blame him but I couldn't see what other option he had. We said our goodbyes and turned to retrace our steps. This time I got all the passengers to cover themselves with foam mattress and keep their heads down for fear of flying glass should we lose a window. All I could think of was that they must know we would be coming back and were now well prepare to stop us going through. I think by the time we got back the rally may have ended because the crowd had thinned and we made a fast exit we a lot less hassle.

Workers Rally
I was feeling a little more confident but still determined to get off the road for the rest of the day, when we rounded a bend to find several large concrete pipes tied together with telegraph wire blocking the road. There was no one around but who ever put these here would not be far away so we set about cutting the wire. Telegraph wire is very strong so we had to use pliers to hold it and a hacksaw to cut the strands. The longer it took the more nervious I was becoming, why had no one turned up. We were in open country with a railway line running parallel with the road but about 200 away. Someone pointed to a figure standing on the railway line and as I looked across about 50 or more Indians appeared and started to run towards the road. This is what I had feared, quickly I jumped into the drives seat and reached under the dash board where I had a small hand gun I purchase at Landi Kotal in the Kyhber Pass. I had never fired it and even now was not sure it wouldn't blow up in my hands but we had to buy some time. I reached out of the drivers window and fired into the air, all together the advancing Indians fell to the ground. Maybe 30 seconds went by then one by one they got up and started to move again. I fired once more and down they went. Each time they got up quicker when they realise I wasn't firing directly at them. The last strand was cut and rather than wait for the pipes to be rolled out of the way I just nudged them with the bus and got rolling. Another 30 seconds and they would have surrounded the bus, what that would have meant I often ponder.

A quick stop to check for damage
We put several miles between us and that incedent before I relaxed even a little. We passed through a very small village and about 1 mile futher on I saw a large walled compound on our right. There appeared to be a building in the center of the compound but as the wall was some 12 feet high it was hard to work out what it was. It appeared to be some sort of a factory but all I could think of was getting behind that wall out of sight from the road. I drove upto the front gate while Fred banged on the large steel door, finally the door opened just a little and the Chokidar (watchman) peered out. He could not have looked more surprised if Doctor Who & the Tardise had landed outside. Fred made him open the gate and we drove in shutting the gate behind us. There were a lot of relived looking faces and those who had insisted on us leaving Varanasi were keeping a very low profile. The factory turned out to by a cold store full of potatoes, the Chokidar was only too pleased to show us around while the cooks got a brew on. We had just down a nice cup of tea when a vehicle arrived at the front gate the Chokidar went to see who it was and then started to open the gate. My first thought was "Oh no our troubles are not over", a small army jeep drove in with a officer seated in the passenger seat. He had lots of pips and coloured stripes on his uniform so he must be important, why is he here? and are we going to like what he has to say? After some pleasantries and lots of welcome to his part of India he finally got round to the purpose of his visit. He and his men would be very obliged if we could come and play a game of Cricket with them.

Indian Army Jeep

Potato Store
Well I have to say that would have been my last guess, India is such a strange country, one minute you are in fear of your life the next its cricket. You must be thinking "He making this up" trust me it is true, every word. The arrangements were made he would send several jeeps to pick our team up and the ladies were invited to come and watch. 1 hour later we were arriving at the Cantonment (military barracks) they were a little primative but this was a very rural area and they did put on a good welcome. Tea was served with sandwiches and little Indian cakes, chairs were brought out for the ladies and the pitch was prepared. I say pitch it was more of a farmers field and on account of the drought there was hardly a blade of grass to be seen. We had no hope of winning, most of us were no good at cricket, some passengers like Douglas Dean were American and wouldn't know a cricket ball if one hit him. Still we did the best we could and I think they let us off lighly by dropping the odd catch and failing to notice the occasional leg before wicket. On our way back to the bus they drove us through a small town and the people waved to us and called out Dada Dada, it is a sign of respect meaning "Honoured One". Just another of those moments when it is hard to reconcile the two India's.

Cricket Indian Style
I went out early in the morning to see if we could move off today, the army advised they would come and let us know later in the day if it was quite and saft to travel. About lunch time we got the all clear and said our goodbye's and headed in the direction of Patna one of the main cities in Bihar State. It was only a one day protest so we are not expecting anymore trouble well we hopeing for no trouble. It is very dry here and the State has been in the grip of drought for months, the villages look drab and lifeless. At a tea stop we are surprised at how little there is to buy in the village. We need sugar but it proves impossible to find until a men approaches us saying he can supply. We are taken round a back street to a small lockup, it is very fertive one would think you were buying drugs. In side they have bags of rice, flour, sugar & piles of tinned goods which in the dark are hard to see. As our eyes become accustom to the light you can clearly see marked on the bags the word OXFAM, this is relief aid being sold on the black market. I have seen this on several occasions, food marked "Gift from the USA" being sold in the markets while the people who really need it can only watch and starve. During the day we saw several bodies being carried from the fields, the drought was taking a heavy toll as people struggled to find enough to eat. It was very difficult buying food here when you knew it was too expensive for the locals who were living on grass and tree bark t o survive. We stop just short of Patna a dirty rundown city with large shanty towns around is outskirts. We camped at the side of the road on parched dusty ground with a few starving cattle for company.

A body on its final journey
The trip continued
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An overland journey to India following the India overland trail through Belgium, Germany, Austria Yugoslavia, Greece, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan, India, & Nepal. Visting sites of Dubrovnic, Split, Kotor, Athens, Kerimoti, Istanbul, Galipolli, Troy, Delphi, Efes, Goreme, Nemrut, Tehran, Esphan, Persepolis, Shiraz, Kerman, Bam, Quetta, Kandahar, Kabul, Bamian Valley, Kyhber Pass, Indus river, Lahore, Punjab, Amritsar, Kashmir, Delhi, Agra, Taj Mahal, Vanaris, Patna, Raj Path, Kathmandu, Himalyas. All this undertaken in a 20 year old Asian Greyhound, Swagman Tours, LS Bristol bus. This Indiaoverland company was held together by Norm Harris an expatriate Aussie living in Windsor. With drivers like Bob Ashford, Geoff Lawrence, Clive Parker, Dave Watt, Ronnie Martin, John Witchard, Ken Mcdonald, Derek Amey & couriers Fred Fisher, Jos Livingstone, Peter Swift, Kieren Smith & mechanics Gordon Hammond, Graham Libby, Pomme John & Rastas just to name a few.