On the first of these trips, we'd taken the overnight Varanasi Express to the grim railway town of Basti where we'd literally jumped off with our 24 pieces of luggage and gear. We'd then travelled by jeep the rest of the way to Bansi. On the second trip, however, the trains were fully booked and we were fortunate to hire a car and driver from the production house where we rented our equipment.
It was completely dark when we were picked up from our guest house. The good-natured Jagat, our driver, was efficient and helpful loading our gear into the 4 wheel drive vehicle while sullen Anil, Peter's camera assistant, sat glumly in the front seat, deeply resentful of this very early morning departure.
The three of us climbed into the back, Peter and Jeff each getting a wheel-well seat, me the luxurious albeit crowded middle spot.
The journey began well enough but once out of the city, the speed of the traffic increased and we were bumper to bumper with overloaded Tata trucks and vehicles of every description. The road was narrow--about a lane and a half wide--with non-existent shoulders. The drivers seemed hell-bent for leather, passing each other on curves and side by side into the on-coming traffic.
Within two hours, we were saying our prayers in the back seat, paralyzed by fear.
Time and time again we were horrified by the sight of completely flattened cars and the wreckages of buses from which no one could have survived. The drive seemed endless as we passed through village after village and avoided one near miss after another.
And yet, there were moments of beauty which took my breath away.
At one point, we came upon a river where dozens of buffalo farmers bathed their animals and where women washed their clothes. We were quick to set up the equipment and captured some amazing footage.
The day wore on and after a particularly hair-raising section of road, we had all had it. I begged Jagat to stop at the next possible place where we might find accommodation.
Soon we pulled in to yet another dusty village and came to a halt in front of a dilapidated cafe. Grateful to be alive but pretty sore from the very rough ride, we went inside and quickly ordered some tea.
"Beeverley," said Jagat, "this is not a good place for you to stay. We go just a little further and then will be a good place."
"How far?" I asked.
"Oh, maybe one, maybe two hours, that is all. Then we be in Lucknow, very good place," Jagat answered.
Feeling refreshed by the tea and a good 12 hours into the trip already, the three of us decided we would carry on.
The sun had set as we entered Lucknow several hours later. We drove past dimly lit bazaars full of colorful silks and displays of golden bangles. Jeff was reading the Lonely Planet and had found what seemed to him to be a good place for us to stay.
We wound our way through narrow dark streets, wide enough for only one vehicle. Eventually, the road ended and before us stood a former palace, its days of glory long past, reopened as an inexpensive hotel.
Jeff jumped from the car and raced inside to make arrangements.
Minutes later, it seemed, we were sitting under the stars in a beautiful tropical garden eating exquisite Indian food. The nightmarish drive was quickly forgotten and we were all in love with India once again.
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