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Day 59 : Travel day 24 : 11.9.69.
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Lodhiana - Rawalpindi

E.Route : Lodhiana - Lahore : PTD ------- : PTA ------- : P.Dist.
A.Route : Lodhiana - Rawalpindi : ATD 0852 : ATA 0007* : A.Dist 320.9m.

Distance 320.9 m. : Gross T.Time 15:45 hr : Net.T.Time 11:00 hr.
Prev.A.Spd. -------- : Gross A.Spd. 20.30mph. : Net.A.Spd. 29.20 mph.
Stop time 4:45 hr. : Speedo TD 11239.6 : Speedo TA 11560.5.

Comment : ATA Pakistan time, other times throughout Indian, from **. Not as lucky as the previous night, the travel in Rawalpindi was in search of another such university as Lodhiana, but to no avail. Rather than accept the kind offer of two leering drunks, we camped by the roadside, beyond the town.

Going back by Liz Y

Large windows in modernist architecture can be pleasantly appealing, but sometimes lead to bizarre interaction with the world outside. For instance, the windows of Adam Ferguson Building overlooking Buccleuch Place seemed to invite impudent children to pull faces at the lecturers, much to the amusement of the students. This has a kind of resonance with our experience in Ludhiana.

We arrived at the Punjab University of Agriculture in Ludhiana in the late evening of 10th September. PUA was a new campus, built in a modernist style. Its senior architect, Aditya Prakash, was one of the talented, young Indian architects who had worked with Le Corbusier on designs for Chandigarh. PUA was founded in the early 1960s as part of Nehru's drive to modernize farming methods. The aim was to improve the country's ability to feed its growing population and to avert the recurrent threat of famine.

We were to sleep in a spacious, ground-floor room with large windows. These were screened by a thin, evidently transparent curtain. I think there may have been a low dais at the far end of the room. Anyway, we set about arranging our sleeping bags in a row at that end. I found myself near the window and drew back the curtain just a little. The room was brightly lit and I didn't expect to see much in the darkness outside. I was confronted with a sea of faces peering through the glass, a sort of surreal collage of fresh-faced, young men in colourful turbans, as though we were a flock of exotic birds. We would be there one night, gone by morning. This was the closest we came to meeting the students in Ludhiana. We had far to travel and stopovers were sometimes brief.

Our airy room suited us very well. A night on a polished wooden floor was fine. On a hot night like this, indoors or under canvas, we used our sleeping bags as mattresses and slept in our cotton sheet bags. An image of Egyptian mummies comes to mind. In the morning, we were up, breakfasted and on our way by 9 o'clock. This was our last day in India and the mood on the bus was reflective. In so many ways, we had been treated as special guests in India. People were interested to meet us and showed us a lot of hospitality. We were simply a group of young people, mostly students and only at the beginning of life's adventure. Being made so welcome was a wonderful experience. Don W once joked that we were just the back street kids from Edinburgh, a bit of an exaggeration I suppose, but we knew what he meant.

Western visitors say that the sights and sounds of India enrapture the senses. India was a burst of colour, the style of dress, the pretty silks and cotton fabrics, stalls in the marketplace, life on the streets, a glimpse inside a crowded temple, flowers, the beautiful pink city of Jaipur. We had witnessed one of the seven wonders of the world, the silent splendour of the Taj Mahal at dusk, with only the night chorus of a thousand frogs. There was much in India, which seemed familiar yet unfamiliar, as in the lilt and turn of phrase of Indian English. Wafted popular music was different. Improbably shrill and falsetto voices tugged at the heartstrings, although we understood not a word. Certain scents evoke memories of India, like the soft, woody fragrance of sandalwood or a hint of jasmine on a warm evening.

We were over the border by lunchtime. I can't recall much about this stretch of the journey except that it was a bit of a slog. Rather than spend the night in Lahore, we decided to forge ahead towards Peshawar. According to the log there was another tyre problem and a hold-up at a bridge. We were now back in travel mode with rather less zest than on the outward journey. It was gone midnight when we finally camped at the roadside beyond Rawalpindi. We didn't pitch the tent. It was a while since we'd done that and really the open skies were just fine.

Burial ground. Photo: JD.
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