All the world's a fun place

But that would be unfair on what is a breezy, unselfconscious and completely enjoyable travel book "" the kind that has you wanting to meet its author immediately.

That author is Samit Sawhny, and the genesis of his travels makes for quite a back story. Having worked for five years as a chartered accountant in London, Sawhny decided that if he wanted to prise himself out of the country and return to India permanently, he would have to make a clean break.

Boldly quitting his job, he figured that he now might as well take advantage of his free-bird time by making the journey home memorable.

How best to do this? By going from England to India via Norway, Siberia, Mongolia, China, Nepal, Tibet and over the Himalayas, without travelling by air at any stage.

A few travellers' hazards aside, Sawhny succeeded in his plan, and this is the record of his many adventures.

Though there are inevitable intrusions of the "how to get there" sort, this book is built for the most part around anecdotes.

Like the story about an impromptu kabadi match between a Spanish and a Rest of the World team at 4 am in Helsinki, so bizarre it might just be true. And over 270 pages there's much else to keep you entertained.

The Russian obsession with the films of Mithun Chakraborty, which results in the author singing "Jimmy Jimmy!" to suspicious border guards to convince them of his Indianness. And the sights: the Scandinavian fjords, the Great Wall, Mount Everest and many others.

Quite a way to celebrate one's exit from a secure, salaried life.

But then, the irreverent tone established by the title lasts the length of the book. Sawhny is suitably awestruck when the occasion merits it but he doesn't get cowered by reputation, maintaining a cheeky matter-of-factness about the vistas that don't impress him.

The general quirkiness of the venture can also be seen in an impish little map, with countries performing geographical gymnastics, stretching out to one another in improbable fashion "" what're England and Norway up to? "" and tiny arrows drunkenly tracing the author's haphazard progress across land and water masses.

Insist on nitpicking and you'll find a fault or two, especially in the initial pages. Too much first person, perhaps? (Though how that can be avoided in this kind of book is another matter.) More relevantly, the sentence construction is occasionally awkward and confusing.

What do you make of something like "No underwear left to veil her"? (The context involves the intriguing custom in Russian nightclubs of getting members of the audience onstage and stripping them.)

Also be warned that Sawhny doesn't always worry about trifles like political correctness. Mentioning the profusion of gold teeth in parts of Russia, for instance, he suggests that "Gorbachev should have considered mining Soviet mouths before declaring the Soviet Union bankrupt".

Personally I enjoy black humour in this vein, but it may not be to all tastes, especially if it reminds you of certain Nazi practices.

Writing in the wide-eyed style of someone who's open to every sort of experience, Sawhny paints as vivid a picture of himself as of the places he visits.

One can imagine him feather-footing his way across continents, like a better-travelled version of Evelyn Waugh's questing vole.

Much of the book's charm derives from the author's little idiosyncracies "" the recurring references to his bushy eyebrows, for instance. (He insists that he isn't sensitive about them, even as the manner of the writing suggests otherwise.)

Even an unpleasant encounter with an antagonistic Pakistani in Xianjiang is given levitas by Sawhny's disinclination to fight and the image of him scurrying around a table to avoid the aggressor.

And when he does get serious "" attempting an analysis of the manifestations of communism in different countries, for instance "" it doesn't come across as pedantic, just the views of an ordinary chap based on personal experiences and observations.

The last section of the book, somewhat misleadingly titled 'Nepal', includes a long discussion on Indianness (with Samit the only Indian in the group), and even this "" replete though it is with every soul-traveller cliche "" survives because of the light tone.

All the fun the author had on his trip manifests itself in his book. When he takes his next long break from work, he could consider writing fiction "" though wanderlust will probably get the better of him again.

ALL THE WORLD's A SPITTOON:

Travels Back to India

Samit Sawhny

Penguin Books India

Pages: 270

Price: Rs 260