Ved Sindhwani is a writer and a poet who learnt his craft the hard way; as a young student in the 60s, he started ghost writing for a pot boiler printer. His initial training as a story teller was mostly vicarious and from the street side narrators in Old Delhi. He is one of those few writers who never strove to publish his works. Here an attempt is made to chronicle and compile his writings. He matches an unusual candour with a canny twist, while retaining the old fashioned in his story telling. This one is a recent story of his based on his experiences during his visit to Pakistan.


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GOLD BRICKS
How can you deny the last wish of anybody?  More so when the wisher is a man who has seen 108 years of his life. That is what impelled us to seek visas for a visit to Pakistan.

 

Rahmat Ali of Shahar Sultan District Muzaffargarh (Pakistan) invited my friend Nandu as he wished and wanted to return to him some thing Nandu’s father had left in his custody to be given back on demand. At the time of the formation of Pakistan, Nandu and his family had to leave Shahar Sultan in a huff as there were riots all around. Nandu’s guess was that it must be a few bricks of gold and some diamonds as they were extremely rich at that time. His father owned 200 acres of land in Shahar Sultan.

 

We were denied visas as the reciprocal policy of the two governments does not allow visas to friends to visit each others countries.  We were disappointed, as Nandu was eager to have the gold bricks and I was keen to see my birth place. But visa is a prerogative of the country you wish to visit. Sometimes, they say, it is granted on the whims and fancies of the visa officer at the office of the High-Commissioner. 

 

As luck would have it, Nandu sold his house at Shimla to a person who knew an officer at the Pakistan High Commission. One phone call from him enabled us to get visas for Lahore, Multan and Karachi. It is again a very strange thing that Pakistan and India are the only countries in the world those issue visas for cities only and not for the entire countries. This is again on reciprocal basis.

 

To feel the excitement of entering our country of birth, we decided to enter Pakistan by road. If you travel by air you land and not enter. The bus tickets were booked for 12th of August 2008. There were many reservations among my friends and family members for my visit to Pakistan. They tried their best to persuade me against it. Even my banker asked me with anguish and skepticism, “uncle! Why are you is going to Pakistan?’ I could understand the reservation of this extremely beautiful lady. She is a Kashmiri pundit and feels that Pakistan is instrumental in destroying peace in her home state.

 

Two persons were very enthusiastic about my visit. Ashok, the son of my cousin, is a wool importer and has very good connections at Multan and Karachi. He repeatedly telephoned his contacts there to ensure that we feel at home in Pakistan. Later on, he also kept track of our movements and comfort there. Pareek ji, my friend of forty years, wanted to accompany us but he was too busy with his professional obligation. He extended his full support. He got me a press-card, which I could use in case of need in Pakistan. He was very encouraging and even pacified my son’s anxieties and apprehensions.

 

The cost of the bus ticket to Lahore was Rs.1500 only. Morning tea, break-fast, lunch and evening tea were complimentary. The distance between Amritsar and Wagah is 25 kilometres and between Wagah and Lahore 37 kilometres.  The total journey of 540 kilometres took us twelve hours as about two hours were consumed in custom clearance at respective ends.

 

No sooner do you enter Pakistan than you feel that you are in a different world which is strangely familiar and similar. Perplexed?  Allow me to explain it for you. At Pakistan custom clearance office at Wagah, you hardly see any person wearing any other dress but shalwar-kameej, the national dress of Pakistan. So the first feel is that you are among a different people but as you move on for clearance, it dawns upon you that the people are exactly the same as on our side of border. They speak the same language, behave in the same way and expect bakshish or bribe as their counterparts on our side do.

    

Compared to the bumpy and narrow road from Amritsar to Wagah, the road to Lahore is wide and smooth. The scenery is very beautiful. The icing on the cake is that a lively canal runs with you into Lahore.

 

The bus terminates at Gulberg, a posh area of Lahore .When we got out of the bus, there were pools of water everywhere. We were told that Lahore had weathered the heaviest of rains in 28 years on that very day. In fact the rain was lashing our bus right through Jullunder to Lahore. Lunch was served to us at Kartarpur in a restaurant which was flooded with rain water. Although the bus-terminal at Lahore was waterlogged resembling a lake, the roads outside were clear of rain water.  The taxi took us to Elite hotel on M. Alam road. The hotel is about a kilometre from the bus-terminal.

 

After relaxing for a few minutes, I telephoned Mr. Ejaj Ahmad. Ejaj is another acquaintance of Ashok. Ejaj told me that he was at the bus terminal to receive us but we missed each- other.  He said, “I am still nearby. Give me fifteen minutes and I will be with you.” Ejaj is a good looking, well-built, 5 feet 10 inches man. After introduction and pleasantries, he asked us to accompany him. He drove us through Lahore. Acting like a guide he kept on mentioning with the names of the roads and the buildings. He proudly uttered, “This is our mall road, this is our boulevards, this is our museum……” Lahorites love their city and are very proud of it. And that is not without reason. Lahore is a very beautiful city. The roads are very wide with slip roads. It is a clean and green city. There is no encroachment. Ejaj told us that the master-plan of 1947 had been implemented and all encroachments had been removed a few years ago. A beautiful canal runs through the city giving it a romantic atmosphere. Lahore boasts of a dozen historical monuments. The city is situated on the bank of river Ravi. But it is the Lahorites who make it an interesting and lovely city. The people here are carefree, out-going and extremely hospitable. Ejaj took us for dinner to Salt & Pepper, a high-end restaurant in Liberty. The restaurant can host more than 400 diners at a time. It was full to capacity. Lahorites love to eat out and during our visit schools were closed for the summer vacations to give an excuse to the families to dine out and entertain their children. Lahore has a lot of eating establishments. Food-Bazaar in Gawal Mundi is a rare sight. Even if you are skeptical about street food or have a hygiene concern, a visit to Gawal Mundi is a must for its visual delight. 40 feet wide and a kilometre long road is covered with four rows of dining tables after six in the evening. People enjoy all kinds of food served by the stalls on both sides of the road. The atmosphere and aroma is tempting enough to overcome your hygienic concerns. All kinds of non-vegetarian dishes are served here. Mouth watering tandoori items and delicious tawa fried pieces of chicken, meat and beef are a specialty.

 

Ejaj took us to all these places and to his house in Falcon colony. It was past midnight when we landed at Elite hotel.

 

I am an old and fragile man and wanted to rest in Lahore before traveling any further but Nandu was bent upon reaching Shahar Sultan at the earliest. He was already dreaming of holding gold bricks in his hands. So we decided to take a bus next day at 11.00 A.M. to Multan. It was Wednesday the 13th of August. This is important because my life was on a roller- coaster for the next seven days and I lost all the count of time till I was back in Delhi. We took the bus from Daewoo bus terminal. Sámi Daewoo bus service is one of the better and brighter things in Pakistan. The seat can be booked on telephone. It is a time bound service and very fast safe and comfortable. There has been only one accident in the last nine years of its operations. Lahore to Karachi is 1350 kilometres and it takes only 17 hours. Multan to Karachi is just 12 hours away. This bus service is available on all highways and motorways. They serve you water, light snacks and soft drinks in the bus. They stop for lunch and dinner at convenient joints.  The comfortable journey to Multan took 5 hours 15 minutes exactly the same time as announced by the petite bus-hostess before the bus moved from Lahore. There was only one stoppage in the mid of the journey of 350 K.M. The lunch stoppage was at Sahiwal (formerly known as Montgomery). Nandu slept throughout the journey. I virtually cannot sleep during the day or in a moving motor- vehicle, so I enjoyed the journey.  The highways are very good and well maintained.  No animal or buffalo cart can come on the highway.  Four feet high concrete wall runs on the sides of the highways to ensure that.  Foot- over bridges are provided to cross over from one side to the other near all abadi (populated) areas along the entire highways.  There is greenery everywhere.  You find orchards quite frequently coming in your view.    A canal or river always runs by the road side. The Punjab of Pakistan boasts of the second best irrigation system in the world. ‘Punjab’ means five waters.  And true to its name the Pakistan part of the Punjab enjoys water from all the five rivers.

 

After alighting from the bus at Multan, while we were looking for a taxi, a man approached us and introduced himself as the driver of Mian Sharief. Mian Mohammad Sharief is one of the many wool suppliers of Ashok.  He took us to a nearby hotel. Nandu did not like the hotel. In fact, he was very eager to meet Rahmat Ali of Shahar Sultan. Nandu telephonically contacted Rahmat Ali, who told him that his son was waiting for us at hotel Silver Sand. The driver took us to hotel Silver Sand. It was in no way a better hotel than the earlier one. But Nandu was very happy to meet Rahmat Ali’s son and decided to check in.



After pleasantries Nandu told the boy that he wanted to meet his father at the earliest and asked him to come early next morning to accompany us to Shahar Sultan.  The boy left after promising to come the next day.



I telephoned Mian Sharief to thank him for his gesture of sending the car for us at the bus terminal. He asked us to come to his factory with the driver. We relaxed for about half an hour and then left for his factory.

 

Mian Mohammad Sharief is a very rich business man. The factory was in a sprawling area with even bigger area of 10 acres of godown space a kilometer away. He dropped us at the hotel but not before promising to take us to our respective birth places the next morning.

 

  But that was not to be. At about 9 PM we walked to the Qaide Azam Road to take our dinner at Shangri-La. Chinese food at this restaurant is considered to be the best in the city of Multan. We ordered chicken-Manchurian and chicken chowmein. The food was not to my liking as it was too sweet to relish.  I just filled my belly.  A few minutes after we reached our room, a call from the reception asked us to come to the reception.  Two Inspectors from the Special Squad were waiting there.  They interrogated me for one hour.  Nandu did not come out and pretended to be sleeping.  They took photocopies of our passports and left.  Later on, when we were sleeping we heard a knock on the door. It was one hour past mid-night. There were two policemen with guns.  They talked with us for about one hour assuring us that they would be there to protect us.  They were friendly and cordial but somehow they took my sleep away from me.

 
In the morning, when I went outside to have fresh air, I found the gunman and one of the Inspectors from the Special Squad there.  The Inspector told me that we would be provided police protection to our respective birth places.

 
Later on when we were ready to leave for Mian Sharief’s residence, the Inspector told us that we could not go to our birthplaces as both the places were outside the Multan district and our visas were for Multan only.  In the meantime, another acquaintance of Ashok, Mr. Ghazi Khan arrived there.  He argued with the Inspector about our case but the Inspector became rude and told us that we would be followed wherever we went and they would not allow us to go out of Multan.  We left for Mian Sharief’s residence and two policemen on bike followed us.


At Sharief’s residence I suggested that we should meet higher authorities but nobody, including Nandu, supported the idea.  But while I made it clear that I would not do anything unlawful, Nandu was adamant on going to Shahar Sultan.  Probably he did not want to miss the opportunity, being so near to his goal.

 
We had lunch there and decided to leave for hotel. Ghazi’s family was out of town so he offered us dinner out in the evening.  We had nothing to do so we accepted his offer and left for hotel.  There was no trace of any policeman thereafter.

 

In the evening we received a phone call from Alamgir Chavan.  Alamgir is a land-lord. He is the son of a friend of my freedom fighter cousin Comrade Ramditta.  Alamgir lives in Kukkar Hatta. Kukkar Hatta is very near KUNDAN DI KASSI, my birthplace. He told me that he was on his way to meet me. He reached the hotel in an hour at about 5 P.M.  He was accompanied by his friend Rao Ayub Mehndi, an elected Nazim (representative) of the village.  They insisted that they would escort us at their responsibility.  But I refused to go without police permission.  We decided to approach the Special Squad office but since it was 14th of August, Pakistan’s foundation day, everything was closed.  So they left after exchange of pleasantries and promised to come the next day when necessary action would be taken.

 
Ghazi Khan came in the evening with Main Sharief and took us for dinner to Shangri-LaGardens, an open air restaurant on Bahawalpur Road.  The food was delicious.  We thoroughly enjoyed the dinner. 

 
The next day we walked to the Railway Station which was about a kilometre from our hotel.  We booked tickets for Karachi for 20th of August and returned and rested in the hotel till mid-day.  Mr. Alamgir arrived with his friend.  They took us to the office of the Special Squad and asked for the permission to facilitate our visit to Shahar Sultan and Kundan Kassi.  On the personal guarantee of Mr. Ayub, we were allowed to go out of Multan for 8 days.  Nandu was very excited and suddenly there was a shine in his eyes.  He immediately wanted to go to Shahar Sultan but it was too late as Shahar Sultan is more than 150 km from Multan.  So we decided to leave for Makhdoompur, Ayub’s village in district Khanewal at Tehsil Kabirwala.  We rested there in the night, were well received by all the relatives, friends and neighbours of Mr. Ayub.  They all showered love and friendship on us. We were feeling more than at home with them.  I talked with some young boys and was told that mostly there were arranged marriages and the boys married at the age of 25 to 35.  The concept of love marriage was alien to villages but love marriages did take place in cities.  A desi cock (chicken fed on organic diet) was sacrificed for our breakfast.

 
During the day, we went around Makhdoompur. My father’s sister used to live there.  I could not exactly locate the house but presumed a house to be the one. It was a reconstructed house. It was easier to locate their shop, which was still intact with original doors.  There was lot of activity in Makhdoompur.  The bazaar was about a kilometre long.  There was also a hospital in the town.  I could meet a person of 70 years of age who narrated to me the horror stories of violence in the town at the time of partition.  I have heard such stories from my elders many a time.

 
The visit to Kundan Di Kassi was very nostalgic.  I could locate my house, which has been reconstructed.  In fact, my house has been divided into many small ones.  The mosque near my house looked great.  Even the beautiful narrow stream of water flowing some 100 yards from my house is still there.  I had a vivid memory that when I was three, I could not jump that stream while my goat could easily do so.  The banyan tree has gone and a house has been constructed there.  A very big trunk of the banyan tree was still lying there.   The visit to my village evoked happy as well as sad feelings.  Happy I was because my wish of a life -time was fulfilled and sad because it was still in the same state as we might have left it.  You could still see some Kachcha houses there.  There was no expansion and no facilities, not even the basic ones.  The only development was a  not- so -wide pucca road passing close to the village  leading to a much prosperous town called Sarai Sidhu which is about 20 km from our village. There were tears in my eyes. I do not know why.  Your guess may be as good as mine.

 
We returned to Alamgir’s house.  It would be better if we call it a garden house.  Alamgir has 6 brothers and 5 step brothers. All of them live in that garden of 50 acres.  They grow mangoes, keenu, anjeer (figs) and pomegranates.  There are three blocks of building; one is Alamgir’s and his brother’s house, another is the house of the sons from his father’s other wife.  And the third building is for visitors which is called Dera.  Due to the veil system, the guests are put up at the Dera and are not allowed to enter their houses. However, as a mark of respect, he took us to his house.  We enjoyed the home- made food in the evening and morning.  Early in the morning Nandu left for his other obsession.  He wished to carry 20 kg of dates to India in addition to the gold bricks and diamonds. While he was in the market to get the dates, I visited the graveyard in the area.   It is a private one and after death the bodies of the members of the family are buried there.  I paid homage at the graves of Alamgir’s father and mother.

 
I also committed a gunaah (sin) unwittingly for which their Allah and my Ram may forgive me.  Early in the morning I needed to go to the bath room to ooze out.  And then I just went outside the house to have fresh air.  Two very beautiful women were praying in the open.  On seeing me, they immediately rushed towards their house.  I felt very guilty as they did not give me a chance even to apologize.  May God bless them and grant their prayer.  In the evening, I happened to sit with Shahid, one of the younger brothers of Alamgir.  He is a nice innocent guy of 35 years of age.  He narrated to me his love story which moved me and again affirmed my belief that we have no control over our destiny.  He had gone for higher studies to Russia, then USSR.  In Moscow, he fell in love with a Russian girl named Yelena Brisanvana.  He told me that Russians have great love for Indians.  So initially he told her that he was an Indian and later one when the relationship had blossomed he told her every thing about him and his family.  Both were so deeply in love with each other that despite cultural, social and economical differences they cemented the relations and married each other.  He informed his family back in Pakistan.  About a month later, he received a telegram and a phone call that his mother was critically ill and he must come to see her one last time.  No sooner did he reach his home in Pakistan, it dawned upon him that the telegram was a ploy to call him back.  His father Mian Mohammad Nawaz was a communist and had a very lenient view of his wish to continuing with Yelena.  But his mother made a great hue and cry and one evening she got hold of his passport and other travel documents and threw them in the fire.  He was forcibly married to a girl in relation.  A Muslim can keep four wives but he felt guilty and was so crest fallen that he sent divorce papers to Yelena.  Yelena waited for him to return for five years and then married ……….  He is still in touch with her and her husband.

 
In the morning, while having breakfast, I got emotional and told Alamgir that I desired to take a fruit plant from my birth place to my home in Delhi. He was over-joyed by my proposal and immediately asked his servants to do the job.  A keenu plant was removed from the earth of my birthplace in Pakistan and I hoped that I would be able to take it safely to Delhi.  After exchanging pleasantries, we left for Mulapur which was once my Nana’s home own.  Shahid and Alamgir accompanied us.  Mulapur is a bigger and better town than Kundan di Kassi and Makhdoompur. It has wide and straight streets and most houses are pucca ones.  As usual two persons of 75 years of age were traced.  I told them that my grandfather (Nana) was a Halwai (Sweet maker) and his name was Lala Ghansham Dass.  One of the old men immediately uttered that there was only one Halwai in Mulapur in those days and his name was Ghania.  I could realize that in those days people were known by their short or pet names.  They showed me his shop but could not tell me about his residence.  We were treated very well in my Nani’s erstwhile town.  Ayub joined us in Khanewal.  He was sitting with his commission agent.  Another car was to be arranged for as there was no room in the one for the fifth person.  The culprit was our luggage which got bulkier with the addition of 24 kg of dates.  Finally, Shahid was to ride a motor cycle to Multan. It was very hot in Multan. We visited the ruins of Multan Fort and some dargahs.  We also saw there a Hindu temple which was destroyed by some fanatics to avenge the destruction of the Babri Masjid by Hindu fanatics in Ayodhaya.  How similar we are.  The Multan fort is situated at a great height and there is a beautiful park known as QuaideAzamPark and also a cricket stadium.  Not long ago, test cricket was played there before a world class one was built a few kilometres out of Multan.  Multan also boasts of the biggest hospital in Asia namely the NishtarHospital.

 
 By 3 PM we were able to leave for Shahar Sultan.  Nandu was visibly very happy and extremely excited.  He even drove the car till he almost hit a horse cart (tonga).

 
We enjoyed our lunch at a roadside eating joint. The Nawab Hotel is a very spacious 24 hour eatery.  There is arrangement for almost 200 people to take food at any given time. Food was very delicious and exotic.  Ayub ordered an Irani dish ‘Roast’ (A big bone piece of mutton in a big bowl of shorba (soup)) and bater (a quail-type bird) curry.  The food in Punjab is not spicy and is very easy on stomach.   The Nawab Hotel caters mainly to truck drivers. . There were about 25 trucks parked there in that afternoon.  The number must be much larger in the evening.

 
 In three hours, we were in Shahar Sultan. Rahmat Ali’s son was waiting for us at a tea stall.  He immediately escorted us to Nandu’s house through a deserted lane.  It was a very big three storey house but was now in ruins. -- Khandhar bata rahe the ki imarat kabhi buland thi – Nandu’s father was the richest man not only in the village but in the entire Mujjafargarh district. Rahmat Ali was lying on a charpoy in the court- yard. His son introduced him to Nandu. Nandu embraced him and sat beside him on the small charpoy. Nandu said to Rahmat Ali, “Please arrange for the delivery of the things my father left with you”.  “. We hope that you will be able to locate it”, replied the old man. Nandu was sure to find a hidden treasure some where in the house. He was aware of the two secret places where valuables were kept when they inhabited that house. Five labourers were waiting there.  Nandu gave them instructions to dig at a spot in the north corner of a room.  After a labour of 30 minutes, an iron trunk was found.  It was taken out, and the lock was broken. But to great disappointment of all it was empty. 

 
 Then Nandu moved to the front room called “Sufa”. He pointed to a corner in a wall on the western side about six feet above the ground. It was a very tedious job.  The labourers were put on the job while we made ourselves comfortable on charpoys.  Surprisingly, unlike Pakistanis, no refreshment or tea was offered to us.  Water was served on request.  Presumably, all were too excited at the prospect of getting richer in a few minutes.

 
After the labour of three hours, an iron box was recovered.  The labourers were asked to leave.  The lock was broken under great excitement and expectations.  Every one was holding his breath.  Eyes widened, forehead narrowed and Nandu’s hair straightened. 

 
The box was opened.  A small black cobra was lying there.  I had read somewhere that cobras always guard treasures.  It was soon realized that the cobra was dead. It was removed with a stick.  Alas! Staring at us, there were only five silver coins which had turned black due to oxidation. Nandu’s face turned pale, disappointment was writ large on it – disappointment was anticipated. Actually he was shattered.  Everyone was mum for a few minutes when Nandu’s voice broke the silence.  It appeared as if the voice was coming out of a well.  “Let us go back to Delhi.”

 
When we were leaving Shahar Sultan, a man stopped our car. He gave Nandu 2 boxes of sweets.  Nandu took them and handed over to me.  I gave the sweets to Ayub and Alamgir.  But Nandu took them back saying that he would take them to Delhi. I was stunned but there was no point in objecting to his action.  Probably Nandu was still dreaming of gold bricks and wishfully imagining that those sweet boxes might contain gold bricks.

 
On way back to Multan, Nandu’s attitude was completely changed.  He was mostly speechless but murmuring in between “What is Pakistan?  It is a backward country… India is 60 years ahead of Pakistan….  I am surprised how they defeat us in cricket and hockey matches”. It was past midnight when we reached Multan.  Nandu refused to eat anything and also refused to stay in Multan.  We drove to Daewoo Bus Stand.  Luckily, we got 2 seats for Lahore.  Shahid managed to arrange two metallic boxes of famous Sohan halwa of Multan, He presented those to us and jokingly said to Nandu, “Treat these boxes full of gold and rejoice.” Everyone laughed except Nandu who did not even try to force a smile.  By sunrise, we were in Lahore and checked in the hotel.

 
Nandu took unilateral and impromptu decision to return to Delhi and without waking me up went to bus station to book tickets for Delhi but he could not get tickets for earlier than 20th. He did not have wings so he could not fly out of Lahore and unwillingly had to stay in Lahore for two more days.  He was very nervous as President Musharaf was to resign on 18th and Nandu was expecting some sorts of disturbances and was glued to the TV.  However, nothing at all happened when he announced his resignation.  An era ended without any flutter.  This is the power of democracy.

 
I had some vision problem in the morning.  I talked to my eye-surgeon in Delhi.  He advised me to consult and get examined by some specialist in Lahore before travelling.  I went to a nursing home nearby but was told that most of the doctors work in hospital in the forenoon and do private practice in nursing homes in the afternoon.  I telephoned my friend Ijaj Ahmed. He was away in Faisalabad and was very surprised to know that we were back in Lahore.  I explained to him that due to Nandu’s apprehension we cancelled our visit to Karachi.  He advised me to go to LaserHospital in ModelTown.  We hired a taxi to the place.  The receptionist was very cooperative and asked us to wait. She told us that Dr. Salim, with whom I had talked before coming to the hospital, was busy in operation room.   After about 30 minutes, I was ushered into a room where Dr. Salim was waiting for me.  Before examining me he said that the President had resigned.  He was visibly happy and relieved.  I could guess that he was watching TV and was not busy doing any operation.  This shows that people in the sub-continent are very optimistic whenever the governing powers change.  But often, the things come back to square one.


We had our lunch at Village, an ethnic restaurant. A very wide range of delicacies were spread out for buffet lunch buffet.  There must have been more than 100 food and chaat items. Achari Paratha, achari bengan and aravi meat I tasted for the first time.  Lahore Chhole was like Pindi Chhole with a little bit more gravy.  Everything was very well cooked and ethnically displayed.  The ambience was extraordinary.   Live music by the artist was on.  I am sure it must be very romantic to have dinner at such a place.  But we overfilled our stomach not to have any hunger for dinner.

 
In the evening we went to see the place where my friend Prof.  Dhawan’s family used to live before partition. Their house was in Shalmi Gate, Mohalla Telian.  The area is converted into a wholesale commercial hub for ready-made garments.  It is very congested and has narrow lanes reminding me of our own old Delhi.  Anarkali, the old famous bazaar of Lahore, too resembles old Delhi’s Sadar Bazaar. The next morning, we hired a tourist taxi to visit historical monuments.  The guide-cum-car-driver was a young man in his thirties.  He was very soft spoken and co-operative.  He first of all took us to the Badshahi Masjid.  It is a very big and beautiful red stone structure.  He told us that Lahore had been an education hub earlier. The masjid was used as a hostel for students who came from far off places.

 
Opposite the Masjid there is the Lahore Fort which is a replica of the Delhi Red fort.  The only difference is that the Lahore fort is a bit smaller and made of lime and bricks.    The Badshahi Masjid and the Lahore Fort are similar to Jama Masjid and Red Fort in Delhi but the ones in Lahore are much closer to each other than the Delhi ones. In between the two, there is a Gurudwara built by a Sikh king Ranjit Singh. The LahoreMuseum is very interesting; it displays many memorabilia of the Buddha and the Hindu gods.  I realized why security is essential at Museums because these memorabilia are priceless and can be destroyed by some fanatics. The Jahangir’s Tomb is across the RaviRiver near Shahadra.  You must be aware that there is one Shahadra in Delhi’s Trans Yamuna area.  In fact Shahadra means the King’s way.


The Jahangir Tomb has very big gardens all around it. It is very beautiful. Jahangir’s son Shahjahan built all the old monuments in Lahore.  I fell in love with Lahore.  It is a beautiful city.  But more and more and again and again I fell in love with Lahorites. I will never forget Ijaj and Tahir, not only because they took us for shopping in the evening and then took us to roof top Glen restaurant where we enjoyed boneless chicken and mutton to our belly’s contentment. They are very lovely men full of lively humour.  Early next morning we took the bus from Lahore for Amritsar from where we took the 5 O’clock Shatabadi Express for Delhi but not before we paid our obeisance, at Harimandir Sahib. We reached our homes around mid-night.



The next day when I was going for my morning walk, I saw two boxes of sweets lying outside Nandu’s bungalow. A very foul smell was emitting from of them. Two dogs were trying to tear the boxes apart to dig out a treasure.



The girls in Multan are reserved and hesitant to talk to men.  Even girls at railway stations and bus stops do not believe in smiling. But the girls in Lahore are nice and forthright to talk to.  Two business women of Karachi, whom I met in the Lahore-Amritsar bus, were very well informed, nice in manners and very articulate.

 
Indians and Pakistanis are identical in more than many ways. Fate and politicians joined hands to separate them in 1947.  We should be allowed to mingle with each other, friendship clubs should be formed and interaction between the families from both sides and visits on reciprocal basis should be encouraged by the Governments of these wonderful countries. These steps will definitely remove apprehensions and misconceptions about one another among the people of both the countries and create lovely and peaceful environment in the sub continents. Trust, Tourism and Trade are the three vital “T’s” to Trigger True and Timeless relations between the people of the two countries. Amen!

                                                                                                                * * * * *




THE TRAP
 
 
It was destined to happen like that......

 

I was thinking about Tsering and dreaming about the time, we were going to spend together for the next fortnight or so when my telephone gave a tinkle. It was Gopi. "Your Bhabi is landing from the states after three days. Would you accompany me to the airport?" Gopi said. He has a problem in driving in the night and most international fights land in Delhi after sunset. "No, Gopi! I am going to Dharamshala this evening," I told him. "Why to Dharamshala in winter?" He said. I had three reasons for going to Dharamshala.One: Tsering was shooting a Tibetan film there and he was insisting that I should spend some time with him. Two: I wanted to explore my writing talent. And finally I had to consult a Tibetan doctor for my arthritis problem. I told him all this and he hung up.

 

After about fifteen minutes he called again and said that he would love to accompany me. I was happy to get a company. We decided to meet at Majnu-Ka-Tila from where we were to take a bus for McLeod Ganj at 7.30 P.M

 

I am unable to sleep in a moving vehicle. So we talked about his son, Parul, who is settled in U.S.A., and about his grandson, who was born 3 months ago. I asked if his wife would not miss him when she did not find him at home on her return. He told me that he was not sure about her but he would definitely not miss her as she had stopped sleeping with him. "Since when?" I asked. "It is now more than three years. I miss sex a lot. I feel hollow and always crave for sex," He confessed. "Why don't you try outside? It is not a difficult thing," I said. He is one of the finest legal brains in Delhi. "Firstly my upbringing is orthodox and secondly I can not risk my flawless reputation", Gopi explained. . We remained engrossed in conversation through the night. We reached Kangra at day break. The bus had stopped at a small dhaba for a while. The sun was trying to/conquer) the peak of a distant hill. We both got down and had a cup of tea each. We reached McLeod Ganj at 8.30 in the morning. Tsering was already there to receive us. We exchanged greetings. "Have you earlier met my friend Gopi?" I said looking towards Gopi. "No, but I have heard a lot about him from you and Bunny.” Bunny is my son and. Tsering and Bunny are school friends. Tsering told me that the hotel in which he and his crew were putting up was fully booked and he had booked a room for us in a nearby hotel. On way to our hotel he showed us the hotel he was staying in. After leaving us in the hotel he asked us to join him at his hotel for breakfast at 10 and left. We joined him at the pre-fixed time. We had Tibetan-bread, butter, tsampa and tea for breakfast. When we were about to finish, a stunningly beautiful girl joined us. She had pink complexion, doe like eyes and walnut hair struggling to kiss her buttocks. But there was a sense of arrogance in her movements. She was Tenzin, heroine of Tsering's film. I looked towards Gopi. He was staring her with lusty looks. I felt awkward. I put my hand on his to divert his attention and asked Tenzin, "How many films you have already done?" I have only a few ad-films and documentaries to my credit," she replied in her musical voice. "That is why you are looking so refreshingly beautiful," I remarked. "Thanks for the compliment," she said with a million dollar smile. I glanced towards Gopi. He was still ogling at Tenzin. I felt very awkward and got up extending my hand towards Tenzin and saying," See you later". She shook hand with me and we left.

 

Next day in the morning Tsering had breakfast with us and said that he was going out on shooting outdoor and would meet us in the evening only. We enquired about the points of tourist interest there and were told about Dalai Lama's and Bhakshunag's temples and a hundred fifty years old church about two kilometers towards Dharamshala. After visiting the temples we went to see the church. It is a very beautiful church, very old and in urgent need of repair. There I saw a tall girl in the western corner of the vast ground viewing in to the beautiful valley. There is a cemetery in the eastern side of the church. Cremation places and cemetery have a special attraction for me as they give me solace and peace of mind. I found that most of the graves were old. I could not see the girl from there because of the church in between. After about ten minutes I saw Gopi coming towards me. The girl was also with him. She was tall, athletic, having short hair, Indian features, very fair complexion and pleasant and intelligent expression on her face. "She is Nikita! She is an American and is of Indian origin". Gopi did the introduction with great enthusiasm. "Hello, Nikita! To which part of India did you belong?" I greeted and asked .her. "My great grand parents were from Gujarat. They moved to U.S.A. some fifty years ago," she replied in a total American accent. Gopi told me that Nikita was also staying in a hotel in McLeodganj and said to her, "Let us walk and talk to Mcleodganj". "It will be of immense pleasure to me," said Nikita. We walked and talked about each other. I told her that I was leading a retired life due to my heart ailment, and knee- problem. I also let her know that Gopi was one of the leading law consultants of our country. Nikita told us that she was technology consultant in Chicago, un-married and living independently as her parents were settled in California. She said that she did not like to be dominated and was very skeptical about marriage. I advised her to marry a person with whom she could fall in love again and again. Gopi got carried away and boasted of his income and status. In Mcleodganj we took tea together. Gopi asked Nikita for lunch and she agreed. They decided to meet at one, as I wanted to sleep for some time and in no mood to take lunch.

 

Gopi came to me at six. He was beaming and appeared very much charged. I had just completed a poem for children and wanted to recite it to him but he was in no mood to oblige me. He said, "Nikita is a wonderful girl. She is modish, has extremely liberal views and entirely different from the girls we know." I reminded him that she was an American and U.S.A. was altogether a different world. She was born and brought up there and ought to be different. Gopi said, "She is very exciting." "She is just twenty and you are sixty. Every girl of her age would be exciting for you"; I tried to reason out with him. But Gopi was all focused on Nikita. At 8.30 he asked me about the dinner. I told him that I would give hot water treatment to my inflamed knee and would not risk going out in the cold. He told me that he would like to have makki ki roti and sarson ka saag, for dinner. Our hotel served only Tibetan food. Before leaving he told me that he would like to hang around and I should not wait for him. Mcleodganj is a small place and there is not much scope to hang around. Also it was pretty cold outside. Obviously Gopi was trying to coin excuses to meet Nikita and spend some time with her. He was already missing her. Gopi remained out the whole night and returned at dawn. He looked exhausted. "Where were you," I asked. "I am in nostalgia of the most beautiful time I have ever, spent in my life. But right now I am tired like any thing and would like to steal some sleep," Gopi said and without changing slipped under the quilt.

 

I was preparing to go for a short walk, when there was a soft knock at the door. It was a boy about twelve years of age. He called my name. I nodded in affirmative. He signaled to me to come out and in a very low voice told me that Nikita had sent him for me for a very urgent business. I was astonished and told him that she must have sent for Gopi. But he told me that she had asked for me only and also requested not to tell Gopi about it. Gopi was fast asleep anyway. I was a bit confused but decided to go. I put on my over-coat and accompanied the boy.

Nikita was staying in one of the better hotels in McLeodganj. She was sitting on a sofa with her head between her knees. She looked up, I could see tears in her sleepy eyes she came to me, put her head on my left shoulder, and started sobbing. Making an effort to console her, I put my right hand on her head and said, "What's wrong with you Nikita?" She could not utter a word as the intensity of her sobbing had increased. I was also at a loss to find words. After a few moments she composed herself and got separated from me. She asked me to sit on the sofa and made herself seated on the bed. I was in for a shock of my life. What she told me was dreadful, disturbing and disgusting. Gopi had raped her very brutally. She showed me bruises on her face and neck. Also there was a blood spot on the white bed cover. I was aghast and kept mum. After a long pause I said, " I am sorry for you Nikita, and ashamed of my friendship with Gopi. I feel awfully low and have no words to express my sentiments and feelings." "What should I do now? Go to the police or contact the American embassy!" she said. I was in a fix. I knew that her action would put Gopi in soup. "First let me talk to Gopi", I suggested as I tried to steal some time. She said, "I have no time for talks and must take immediate action but I am a practical girl. I know Gopi will be charged under 376 IPC and would go behind the bars for ten years. If you want to save him, ask him to pay me Rs. 50 lacs". I was a bit confused and astonished, so kept mum. She continued, "What has happened has happened. Moreover I lost my virginity three years ago and I am in urgent need of money". I said, "I have to talk to Gopi". "You have precisely one hour; after that I will call the police," Nikita said in a firm tone. I assured her that I would revert back to her within the time and left.

 

I was still in a state of confusion, while walking towards my hotel. I decided to probe Gopi before disclosing my acquired information and Nikita's proposal and threat. Thankfully he was still sleeping. I shook him and asked him to get up. When he was wide awake, I asked him, "Gopi! What happened last night"? He stated, "After going from here I purchased some flowers from the market and went to Nikita. She received me very warmly. We enjoyed a few drinks of scotch followed by meals. All along we were talking about each other. It was getting pretty cold so she asked me to sit beside her under the quilt. I compiled though my heart started beating at supersonic speed." Gopi was re- living the moments. He continued, "She told me that she was quite a liberal girl and had enjoyed sex many times. While she was talking, her right hand was moving all over me. Suddenly it was on my member. She opened my fly and her hand moved inside. I could feel getting hard under her soft palm and fingers. Then she started undressing and after finishing with herself, she did the same to me. I was mesmerized. I did not realize when I was over and inside her. It was all over in a few minutes for me. My lay off of three years and my age let me down. Nikita was furious. To please her I tried with my finger and mouth but failed to satisfy her. From nowhere, she brought out a round object, called ‘Dildo’, and put that in my hand. I inserted it inside her and started moving that up and down. She urged me to do it faster and faster. Soon it was all over for her too. It was well past midnight .1 slept there and before dawn I was with you."

 

I told him Nikita's version of the episode and options she had given me. Gopi was bewildered. It was quite cold but I could see sweat dropping from his face. He turned pale. After some time he said in a hollow voice, "She is an NRI whore. I think I have been trapped with no escape route. The "Dildo may have caused some bruises inside her." "There was blood on the bed-sheet," I told him. Gopi was fast to comprehend that Nikita had planned it perfectly and he could not risk his everything. We negotiated with Nikita for thirty bucks. The money was paid the same day to an accomplice of Nikita in Delhi. I did not feel the necessity to ask Gopi how he had managed to arrange such a big amount. We were feeling so depressed that we immediately hired a taxi and said good-bye to McLeod Ganj when the sun was about to go down.

 

Was it so destined that that the best legal brain was to be outsmarted in this humiliating manner and had to bite the dust?

                                                                                                          * * * * *




THE BARGAIN

"Excess of every thing is bad", but I learnt it the hard way, I had experienced a little pain in my knees and to help myself out of that I started cycling for thirty minutes besides walking five kilometers a day. Walking had been a routine with me for years together. One fine morning, after cycling, I was going through my ritual of morning walk in the neighbourhood park. Suddenly, I felt severe pain in my left knee. I could reach for the nearest bench there with great difficulty. I was taken to an orthopedist. The doctor got the x-ray done and declared that I had triggered osteo-arthritis by putting excessive pressure on my knees. He advised rest, diathermy and physiotherapy. After a few weeks, 1 was able to walk but the pain never ceased. The trauma continued unabated for months.

 

One day my friend Manu visited me. I told him about my ordeal, and also that I had gone through ayurvedic and homeopath treatment without any relief. "Let us go to Baijnath", Manu suggested. He told me that. Baijnath was a small town near Palampur in Himachal Pradesh and that there was a 100 plus years old doctor in Baijnath who had cured many hopeless patients suffering from perennial diseases. He continued, "Moreover, it will be a refreshing outing." I decided to give it a try.

 

Our journey was to start after three days. Before leaving, I visited my mother for her formal permission. I have been emotionally very close to my mother. She asked me the purpose of my journey and showered her blessings. I was a weak child with very poor health and a mediocre student. I could not secure any Government job, and was forced into doing business, which was never a roaring success. My mother always thought that life had not been kind to me.

 

We hired a taxi and decided to cover the distance in two days with a stopover at Chandigarh to make it less hectic. It took us just four hours from Delhi to Chandigarh. We checked in a hotel. . Chandigarh is a green and well-planned modern city. After taking lunch, Manu decided to take a round of the city. He visited the Rose garden, the sector-17 market, the SukhnaLake and the Rock garden, which is a marvel and has been created by using waste material. The person responsible for this visual delight is Nekchand.

 

We started early next morning for our destination, Himachal is known as the land of gods. There are many places of pilgrimage on way to Palampur. . I rarely go to religious places. But Manu was very keen to visit and pray at all the temples on the way. So we prayed at the temples of Naina Devi, Chintpurni, Jawala ji and Chamunda Devi. The common belief is that by visiting these places one gets relieved of one's miseries and one's wishes are fulfilled. At Chintpurni I saw a healthy man rolling and crawling on his body to reach the temple. I wondered if torturing the body gifted by God could please Him. However, I was impressed by the fact that all these temples are great picnic spots and provide livelihood to a large number of people. The most scenic of these places is Chamunda Devi temple. It is situated near a cold-water stream. We reached Palampur when the sun was about to finish its duty for the day. Palampur is a small but extremely beautiful town. It is surrounded by tea gardens. Snow clad peaks look at you from a distance. The taxi was done away with as we retired for the night in a hotel. Next morning, we decided to go to Baijnath by the toy train; the train runs at a very slow speed. It crawled through beautiful tea gardens and after halting at a few stations on the way, reached Baijnath by noon though the distance was just 16 Km. Manu insisted that I should accompany him to visit the famous ancient Shiva temple there before going to the doctor. I complied.

 

Enquiries about the doctor revealed to our disappointment that he had died about a year back. We returned to Palampur at six in the evening. There is a tea factory near the railway station and a tea canteen at the gate of the factory. We enjoyed tea in the canteen. The walk to our hotel was very long. But I noticed, to my pleasant surprise, that the pain in my knees had disappeared. There was stiffness but absolutely no pain.

 

After dinner, I gave hot water treatment to my knees and preferred to rest in bed. Manu went out for a walk but returned in a few minutes. He was looking sad. He told me that my son had called on his mobile phone and told him that my mother had passed away 1 was dumbstruck. My mother was in perfect health, though about seventy years old .The news was a great shock to me. We decided to leave immediately and reached Delhi in the morning .The taxi we hired had two drivers and they drove through non-stop. Reaching home, I learnt that it was a sudden death; her heart had failed. The time of her death was 6.30 in the evening. It struck me that was exactly the same time Manu and I were having tea at the factory canteen at Palampur.

 

The rituals associated with death were observed. It was hectic and tiring but I had no pain in my joints. It had vanished completely.

 

My mother was gone and also had gone my joints pain. I have been wondering since whether it was due to my visits to the temples or that my mother had bargained for my health with her life. Or was it purely a coincidence?

                                                                                                                 * * * * *




THE PRISONER 

Compromise and accommodation were the other names of Ratana. She was the eldest of two daughters and one son of Lala Ganga Ram. Ratana was never accorded the position and the privileges of the eldest child in the family. She was always scolded, ridiculed and looked down upon hy one and all. She was slow, untidy and always fumbled with words. To add to all this, she was not a beautiful child. She was probably the most un-wanted child in the world. Nobody bothered about her. But Ratana did not bother much about the treatment she got. She was extremely helpful and self- sacrificing without prejudice to one and all. She never said no to anybody and did without reservation whatever she was told to do. She never asked even for food and consumed whatever was thrown at her. She was indifferent to the colour shape, design, fitting and condition of her clothes. She was never sent to school. Her childhood was swept away without any enjoyment generally associated with this period of life. The excitement of youth also evaded her......

 

Ratana was married off by default She was a sacrificial item to accommodate her first cousin, Mohan, who was the only survivor other father's brother's family. Mohan was suffering from the first stage tuberculosis, a killer disease in those days, which had eaten up Mohan's parents and two of their three children. He was married to a healthy and beautiful young girl Amana, in exchange for Ratana, who was given to Ram, an uncle of Amana. Ram was a widower and only fifteen years older than thirteen years old Ratana. Even an age difference of twenty-five years would not have raised any eyebrows. The first wife of Ram, Rupa, an extremely beautiful woman, had died after giving birth to a son, who followed her after three months. Ram had a very big family. An eighty plus ailing father, a few years shy of fifty mother, wife of his deceased brother who happened to be the mother of Amana and two un-married daughters, a good-for-nothing younger brother Sham, married and having five daughters born of a head strong wife, Jana, a widowed sister Ganga with a son, Sohan, three years of age. All of them shared a common roof and Pam was the only bread- earner. Ram also had another married sister, Billow, who had an uncomfortable relation with her husband and frequented her parental house now and then.

 

Ratana got a lukewarm reception in her new home. Every one observed that Ratana was nowhere close to Rupa in beauty and etiquette and after that unanimous resolution, every now and then she was humiliated on one pretext or the other. A few clothes and five pieces of silver jewelry that she brought with her as semblance of dowry were taken away from her and given to Billow. She was not surprised as she was accustomed to this sort of treatment at her father's home too. As she was the new entrant in the family, everyone was boss for her and true to her nature she always obliged one and all without any grudge to the best of her capability and ability. Even then her stature in the family could not improve as the comparison with Rupa was inevitable and she stood nowhere close to her. Ram was always indifferent to her. Like one and all, he was also a prisoner his thoughts.

 

Ratana was given the prime duty of taking care of her ailing father-in-law, Surya. Ratana adored him simply because he was the only person who never said any hurting words against her and Ratana did her best to comply with the needs of the old man. Many a time Surya even praised her. He could not survive for long and died on a very cold December night. Ratana was alone by his side when he breathed his last, but not before he assured Ratana that he would remonstrate with God and ensure that she would be blessed with a son.

 

After two years of marriage Ratana was blessed with a very handsome and fair complexioned son, the child had all the features of his father. With it a thirty-year drought of male entry in the , family had ended. Every one was exultant but surprised on two counts: Ram and Ratana both were dark-complexioned and contrary to it the newborn was fair just like his grandmother, and no one had ever seen Ram spending a night with Ratana. Ram was a very bad-tempered man but he spoke very little;. He was always busy at his shop and slept there in the night. The boy was named Suraj, in memory of his grandfather. Suraj brought good luck to Ratana. For the first time in her life, she was looked at with respect by one and all. Though Ram was still indifferent to her, he was not antagonistic at all. Probably the financial burden to feed a large family was weighing too heavy on him. Still Ratana had no complaints; life had never been more comfortable for her. She was fully occupied with bringing up her son. But her joy was short- lived. Two incidents, one  very common and the other extremely bizarre changed the life of Ratana and Suraj forever. One night while sleeping with his mother, Suraj rolled-over and fell down on the floor. His cries forced the entire family to come to the room. Ram was called from the shop but he hushed up the matter after ensuring that Suraj was completely unhurt. The second incident was taken very seriously. A snake was seen coming out of the quilt under which Suraj was sleeping. Every one, especially Billow, who happened to there that night, and Sham made a big hue and cry. From that day onwards Suraj was put under the care of his grand mother, Bai. Bai was a very affectionate and caring woman. She had all the freedom to move out of the house. This privilege was not available to Ratana. Suraj needed her mother only when he was hungry a; he was still on mother-feed. Even this need of Suraj was partly taken care of by Jingo, a Muslim woman living nearby. Jingo had a son, All, who was only a few days older than Suraj. Bai and Jingo's mother-in-law were old friends and mostly they were together. One day Jingo was feeding Alt in the presence of Suraj. Silently, Suraj moved towards Jingo and started taking feed from the other nipple. Jingo was first taken aback but then felt amused. From that day onwards she started feeding Alt and Suraj simultaneously. What a wonder of nature! That it is perfectly possible to breastfeed two children at a time. Time rather than the quantity of milk might be a problem. Such is the emotional power of motherhood.

 

Still Ratana had no complaints. She was content that Suraj was around. Then she became a victim of another incident. Mohan died of his perennial disease, leaving behind a one year old son and seven months pregnant Amana. There was nobody to take care of the expectant mother and the infant. Ram and her father prevailed upon Ratana to be by the side of Amana. Ratana could not come back for four months. When Suraj was three years of age, a cruel joke cracked on him by the family created a further distance between the mother and the son. Taking advantage of the looks of Suraj it was teasingly put in his innocent mind that he was the son of Rupa, the first wife of Ram and that Ratana was his stepmother. He believed it to be true and drifted away from Ratana to the extent that he hardly talked with her and stopped visiting his maternal grandfather's home. Ratana was never assertive so she did not care to change the perception of his son. It was too late when the truth dawned upon Suraj. The distance and the indifference between the two had become their way of life. It was increased further, as all other in the family pampered Suraj. This deprived them of the joys, emotions and commotions naturally associated with the love between the mother and the son. Suraj got some emotional support from Bai and Jingo. But Ratana did not have even the consolation to show her love for him. This made both of them a bit complex characters. Though they were emotional and sentimental at heart, they never showed any excitement on a happy occasion or anxiety in distress.

 

Contrary to early indications, Suraj graduated to be a nice, humble, accommodating, helpful and intelligent young man. With these exemplary qualities, Suraj became the darling of one and all. Ratana was benefited indirectly. First the outsiders and then the family members started approving of her cooperative nature. She was taken as a sober, cool and humble woman. AH this as they knew that after all she was Suraj's real mother. Her meekness was considered as modesty and her slowness and shabby dressing ways were appreciated as coolness and simplicity.

 

Suraj had the Midas touch; whatever he did came out as a success. He was instrumental in marrying off all the daughters in the family. He had a big departmental store and a new house to live in. The old shop was being run by his uncle Sham and his cousin Sohan. And his uncle, aunt, occupied the old house with Sohan and his mother. Amana's husband Mohan had also died, leaving behind two grown up sons, who were taking care of Amana's mother also. Ram had stopped working and was always busy playing cards but he still dominated the family and always had the final word in all the affairs.

 

Suraj was married to Reno, the daughter of a very rich benefactor of Ram. Reno was an ordinary girl and was only six years older than Ram. Suraj protested but was overruled by Ram, who was more than eager to please his benefactor. Ratana was a mute spectator to all this. Rano had all the traits of a girl brought up in a rich but uneducated family. She was rude, bad-tempered, ill-mannered and obstinate. Suraj and Rano had no compatibility but Suraj true to his nature tried his best to adjust but Reno was never cooperative and always had problems with not only Suraj but also every one in the family. In a few months, Suraj became indifferent towards Reno. He had nobody to share his feelings except his grandmother Bai, who was on bed for the last two years due to back and disc problems. Her eyesight was also failing her. The childhood syndrome that he was not the real son of Ratana never got erased from his mind. Rano took over the entire control of the family matters. Ratana was once again lowered to an insignificant position. Rano always highlighted her shortcomings.




Two things happened at a very short interval of each other. Suraj and Rano were blessed with a son and exactly after seventeen days, Jingo left for her heavenly abode as if she was only waiting to become a great-grandmother.

 

Rano always ensured a verge between her son and Ratana. Ratana on her part was never intelligent and smart to attract the fancy of his grandson she even could not narrate the common stories children generally listen to from their grandmothers. Thus, Ratana was deprived of the usual pleasure grandparents get in the company of their grandchildren.




Life went on like that for a few years. Many a time a thought disturbed Suraj that Ratana deserved a better treatment particular from him. But unfortunately nothing was done in this direction. Ratana never bothered about her health. Her faculties were getting weaker by the time. Suraj was unconcerned except that she was given what ever she asked for, which she rarely did. Ratana had nothing to do. She tried to move out of the house but unlike other women of her age she could not even gossip. Actually she never indulged herself in that. She was not a religious woman so she could not find any interest or solace in temples and prayers. Children did not find her interesting. Ram and Suraj were indifferent to her. Rano always treated her with contempt. She was abandoned.

 

Then suddenly Ratana started behaving in a manner exactly the opposite of her nature. She started finding faults with the food she was served. She was not satisfied with the cleaning of her room and forced the servants to do it again. She became irritating to intolerable extent.

One day the family guru from Haridawar visited them. He blessed every one and said that Ratana was struggling to set herself free of her traits and should be all right in a matter of time. Ratana did not succeed in getting out of her traits. Often she did not take her meals. Her struggle to get free of her traits ended one day when she quietly breathed her last. Like every one else, she was a prisoner other traits and only death could set her free. Suraj felt very depressed and started feeling guilty of not doing enough for his mother. He lost interest in his daily routine and was always lost in his depressing thoughts. His, health started deteriorating. It was diagnosed that he was suffering from an illness called Bulimia; a sickness that whispers in the patient's ears to deceive those closest to him and puts in his mind that he is worthless. Suraj never came out of that state and was found hanging dead in his study one morning exactly after one month after the death of Ratana. Suraj was cremated at the same place where Ratana was. Despite their burning desire they had not succeeded in shortening the distance between them when alive. Death had fulfilled their wish. Their ashes had inseparably merged with each other's.

                                                                                                         * * * * *

 

 

A WANDERER’S LUST

 

 

                                                               Preface

Romancing with the roads is a sin I have been committing since my childhood. My mother more frequently than often narrated to one and all that after learning my first steps, I used to walk the entire street of my village. After the division of Hindustan into Pakistan and Bharat orIndia, our family resettled in old Delhi. Once I walked from my house in Kassabpura to a destination never visited earlier by me. After hours of search, my father spotted me enjoying the famous “jalebies” of Dariba with a generous police officer in Kotwali (now a part of Gurdawara Sisganj)

After entering the teens, walking miles to ward off tensions was a sort of routine with me. Going 15 killometres from my home to BuddhaJayantiPark was a favourite Sunday pastime.  I rode my first bicycle to the QuatabMinar, Okhla and Agra in the very first month of acquisition. I drove my first scooter from Delhi toAmritsarto seek blessings of the Sikh gurus at the gurudawara Hari Mandir Sahib.

It was ordained that I should join my uncle’s ailing road transport business. I was rather unsuitable to be in such a profession. It requires a carefree facade but a very careful attitude and astute approach towards ever erupting problems. You face problems with every dawn and go back to your bed after negotiating a few. The next morning brings with it a new set to deal with. How I made a living out of it, is a different story for a different day. Here I must admit that I immensely enjoyed traveling long distances in the trucks.

 

In December 2000, I had a round trip of Rajasthan. We explored Bikaner, Jaisalmer, MountAbu, Ranthambore and Jaipur. With three of my friends, we travelled about 2100 kilometres. During the journey, one of them suggested to go up to Goa the next time. He even offered to lend his Maruti 800 to facilitate the road trip. This was the most popular car running on Indian roads at that time; roadside service and repair were available everywhere for this car.

 

The programme was neither shelved nor did it take off. After a few years the Maruti 800 was sold out and the fate of the project was sealed.

 

In 2007, I was in Shimla with five friends. In the evening of a beautiful day, I declared that next year I would be going to Goa and further south in my car if I could find even a single person for company. Every one of my friends there agreed to join me but none brought it to pass after that.

 

Being 65 and having friends well past that, it appeared a far dream. Quite a few even thought it to be a sin. However I was determined to go through the trip because it was a seven-year itch for me. There were apprehensions that my physical faculties may desert me to undertake a long journey. It was earlier the better.

I persuaded and pacified my family to allow me to take this voyage with the assurance that a U turn would be taken at the first setback.

Jan 21, was fixed as the ‘D’ day. One by one, all but my childhood friend Darshi backed out. He also thought like me that it was now or never. At the last moment my long-time friend, Gopi also joined us. He was to accompany us only up toUdaipur: “Utna hi upkar samajh koi jitana sath nibha de”.   

 

 

DAY ONE                                                                               

 

Finally, after a day’s delay, the long awaited romance began in the wee hours of January22, 2009.The D-day came earlier than anticipated and for me the journey started even a few hours earlier. Anxiety, apprehensions and excitement did not give me the luxury of a sound sleep on the preceding night but that did not prevent me from being behind the wheels exactly at the decided time of 6 a.m. My friend Prof. Dhawan, who lives in a house opposite the one I live in, was strolling in the street and waiting to wish me luck for my journey.  My son and daughter-in-law too were there to see me off. I had to pick Darshi from his house in Ranibagh and Gopi was to meet us at a particular petrol pump at Dhaulakuan. Although Darshi and his wife Deepak were waiting outside their house, we could not hit the road before 7.13 am. Gopi was waiting at the petrol pump when we reached Dhaulakuan.

 

We were now on highway no. 8 and our car was embracing the smooth fascinating black beauty and was sliding over it. The trees and the green fields on both sides were running in opposite direction. Both of my friends have sons, who live in the USA and both unanimously agreed that this Indian highway was quite as good as what they had travelled on in the USA.

 

In-between interesting talk and gossip, we were heading towards our first destination, Ajmer. We decided to enjoy our packed homemade breakfast after two hours journey at a roadside Samrat Dhaba near Dharuhera, which served us hot tea. It also had clean toilets.

 

  
Gopi and Darshi knew each other through a common friend. They did not come across each other often and they were travelling together for the first time. It did not prevent them from getting intimate and soon they were talking warmly about their sons, their families and discussing all sorts of other topics. I was silent most of the time, concentrating on driving and negotiating the traffic.

 

I am not sure when their talk switched to sex and their sexual lives. Both have similar grievances about their sex-starved lives.

 

 Between Jaipur and Dudu, Darshi asked to stop for lunch. He is very particular about the timing of his meals. I stopped at the first dhaba on our side of the road. After entering the dhaba, I found that a Muslim owned it. I revealed this fact to Gopi and Darshi. They said they had no objection and would not mind having food there itself. It was a surprise for me, as I know that Gopi is a Brahmin and has been very fond of making Hindu pilgrimages. It gave me immense pleasure to know that he is a secular person. He told me that he was not a religious man. Yet he had been going on Hindu pilgrimages. This he did only to give company to his wife. However, the Highway dhaba was reasonably neat and clean. The food was also delicious.

 

At 3.13, after a drive of 8 long hours, we checked in hotelOmniPalace on the Jaipur road in Ajmer. The room offered to us was small, but clean and tidy. The hotel has a beautiful hill in the backdrop giving it a scenic view. A non-functional small swimming pool was also there.

 

After enjoying tea and resting for an hour, we decided to explore the city.  Autos, on sharing basis, are frequently available for different destinations in the city. We left our car at the hotel and opted for an auto to get the local feel. All types of people use this very convenient and efficient service.

 

The first stop was AnnaSagarLake. It is a large beautiful lake with scenic hills in the background. This gives a very soothing effect to the eyes. You can enjoy boating in the lake. There are two beautiful parks namely, Daulat Bagh and Subhash Bagh on the bank of the lake. There are also seven rain shelters. The architect Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan built these engraved white marble structures in 1637 though the lake dates back to the 12th century. It is a great solace-giving place with natural beauty. The lake and the parks are just adjacent to the city. Large number of tourists and locals always frequent the place.  An instinct took me to a good-looking girl standing under a shelter in a thoughtful stance. I approached her and asked her consolingly and showing concern why she was looking so sad. My blunt utterance took her aback. Her reply put me in a defensive state. She said, “I have been watching you for quite sometime and was wondering how handsome you must have been during your youth as you look so graceful and handsome even at this age.” I was stunned and was at a loss to find words to say anything. It was only after a few minutes that I could re-compose myself. I thanked her for her flattering comments and asked her about herself. She told me that her name was Alka Chaurasia. I stupidly asked her, “Aren’t Chaurasias paan-walas from Banaras?”  She retorted back, “All Chaurasias are not paanwalas”. She proudly further told me that she was a fine arts student and had done her Masters in science. She also informed me that her mother was a senior lecturer in a college in Kota and her father was practicing medicine there. While we were talking, Darshi and Gopi were busy taking photographs of each other.  Suddenly they rushed towards us and asked me about the girl. I told them that she is a new friend and requested Darshi to take my photograph with Alka. Darshi obliged. We all started talking with Alka. She told us about all the tourist spots in the city. While Darshi and Gopi were involved in conversation with Alka, I just walked away towards the lake. Soon I could feel that the pitch of their voices rose and Alka was hitting the roof (ceiling). I walked towards them. Gopi and Darshi were also coming towards me leaving Alka under the shelter. I asked them what the matter was. Darshi told me that they were asking Alka to join them for the evening and she did not like the idea. I felt ashamed at their stupid act and could not dare to look in the direction where that tall, beautiful, wide-eyed girl with magnificent personality was standing. Their overenthusiasm had spoiled the mood.  I just walked out of the park in a huff and the two followed me.

 

***

 

 

It was Thursday and there was a great rush on the road to the Dargah of the Sufi saint Khwaja Muin-Din-Chishti. All the Dargahs observe Thursday as a “pir” day. There were more women than men at that hour and there was beauty spread everywhere. The eyes of my friends brightened and their faces lit up with happiness and hope. I distanced myself from them and started moving towards Dargah. It was crowded with people from all walks and religions.  

 

The Khwaja was from Persia and lived from 1192 till he died in 1233. Humayun the second Mughal king constructed the shrine and his son Akbar visited it regularly. It is said that he donated a largedegh (cauldron) to it.   There is a common belief that a visit to the Dargah fulfils your wishes. I do not know what my friends wished there. I just wished for a problem-free tour.  The intentions of the shopkeepers and khadims (priests) to fleece the devotees dismayed me.

 

Through a crowded and narrow street, we walked towards the railway station. Before returning to the hotel, Gopi and I took our dinner at a vegetarian dhaba, opposite the railway station. Darshi got some non-vegetarian snacks, as he wanted to enjoy the evening with drinks in the scenic lobby of the hotel. I wanted to rest as I was feeling extremely tired. Gopi and Darshi talked with each other. Soon the topic changed to girls, women and sex. After a few minutes, both of them left saying that they were going out for a stroll. I plunged into sleep knowing well that they had gone in search of some “maal” and would not be coming back early. They returned after midnight and silently lay down in their bed.

 

January 23rd

Darshi is an early riser and he got up at 5 a.m. sharp and went out of the room to puff a few cigarettes. He is a regular smoker but has the sense not to smoke in a room shared by someone else. Soon Gopi left the room to join him.  Although I was awake, I remained in the bed until 6 a.m. I went outside to be with my friends. Gopi and Darshi were sitting in the lobby some fifty steps away from our room. They were talking about the last evening they had spent together. I heard them mentioning the name of Alka. Approaching them I asked, “How was your evening?” “It was fine but since you were not interested, it is a smoke room story for you,” Gopi replied. Disappointment was evident in his tone. “OK,” I said, “what about morning tea”. “I will get it,” Darshi said and got up.

 

Our tea session lasted for half-an-hour as Darshi and Gopi took three cups each. I was satisfied with the first cup. As none of us is a religious man, we decided that there was no sense in going to Pushkar. We agreed to skip that. Pushkar is 13 km from Ajmer. There is a lake and a Brahma temple near the lake. This is the only Brahma temple in the world. They say it is extremely beneficial if wife and husband take bath together in the lake. It appears to be a romantic idea though it is not quite so.  Too many other people are around there taking the dip.

 

We left the hotel at 9 and moved towards Chittorgarh. We decided to enjoy our breakfast at some roadside dhaba. At about 10.30, near Nasirabad, we took our breakfast and got ourselves checked up by a doctor at the ambulance of National Highway Authority of India. It is a free service. Everything for everybody was reported normal.

 

New highways are very convenient but extremely unromantic. You do not see anything else but concrete and vehicles. The worst part is, as these highways are newly constructed or under construction, you do not see any greenery on either side resulting in the absence of even birds and animals. The more disappointing part is that you miss the local touch and colours.

 

The highway between Ajmer and Chittorgarh is like that. In addition, there is quite a long stretch beforeChittorgarh that is under construction and it is very irritating to drive there.

 

On the way, I tried to assess the impact of a recent truckers’ strike.  It affected most of the people connected with tuckers in one way or the other. The strike was partial and the general opinion was that it was a failure because the government did not budge. A petrol pump owner was very sarcastic about the whole thing. He told me that while the government has crushed the strike with force, still the police officers were collecting money from the tuck drivers for the surgery of the PM. It may not be true, but it is also a fact that truckers are often fleeced on many an excuse even flimsier than the one quoted above.

 

By 4 p.m., we were at Chittorgarh and checked in the newly constructed 3-floor hotel Shreejee near the railway station. It is a clean hotel with comfortable beds and good vegetarian food. Gopi left after taking tea and Darshi and I rested for a while. Darshi wanted to tell me about the evening he spent with Gopi at Ajmer. However, I told him that I had no interest in that and that he should not betray Gopi.  Darshi moved to the balcony and called me to join him. A very fascinating view of the Chittorgarh railway station was available from there. Darshi has a great attraction for railways and stations. He showed his enthusiasm to visit the railway station.

There was no train at the station and it was deserted. Still Darshi clicked a few snaps there. We walked to the local tourist office nearby. There we came to know that in the evening there was a light and sound show at an open-air theatre in the Chittorgarh fort. We decided to witness that. When we returned to the hotel Gopi was already there after his survey of the town. He told us about it and confirmed about the light and sound program.

 

Gopi had brought some fruits from the market. He asked for a knife. I gave him my Swiss knife. After finishing with chopping of the fruits, Gopi jokingly said, “You gift this knife to me or I will steal it.” “If you are successful in stealing it, it is yours. It is a challenge,” I said. “I accept and if I am not successful, I will host a dinner for the two of you at the place of your choice.” “Gopi, I am with you. Together, we will win,” said Darshi. “If you two are in connivance, then I deserve two dinners,” I said laughingly. “That means the contest is on for the whole trip, even after Gopi leaves us?” asked Darshi. “Yes, no problem! I am game till we reach Delhi,” I replied. “The game starts now,” said Gopi and put the knife in his pocket. “You will have to steal it. It is robbing,” I protested. “He is right. We have to outwit him by stealing it,” said Darshi. Gopi returned the knife to me saying, “You can keep it for sometime before we steal it.” I put back the knife in my travel bag and said, “Your time starts now.” Gopi went out and Darshi went to ooze out in the bathroom. I took the knife out of the bag, put it in my jacket pocket, and joined Gopi in the lobby. Darshi came after fifteen minutes.

 

In the evening when we were going to witness the light and sound programme in the fort, we had to negotiate with many motorcycle riders. They were in the age group of 12 to 20. All of them were introducing themselves as guides. They wanted to attach themselves with us for the next day. They were ready to serve us for as little as Rs.10. The catch was that they got commission from the saris and handicrafts shop inside the fort. 

 

Whenever and wherever you see water in Rajasthan, it fascinates you. Chittorgarh has a beautiful river flowing in the middle of the city. Water was flowing very slowly in the river called GambhbirRiver. Across the river about a kilometre at a height, there is the Chittorgarh fort. It is probably the biggest fort in Rajasthan but it is all in ruins except for the houses near the first gate. In all there are some 7 gates and you climbing in a zigzag way till you reach the magnificent victory- tower. Not only is this tower intact, you can even climb up if you are young enough to climb 167 steps. Near the tower, there is the Kumbha palace. In fact there is no palace; there are just walls and a ground which has been converted into an open air theatre.  You can enjoy every evening extremely entertaining light and sound programme there.  The history of the Chittorgarh fort and the beautiful queen Padmini is the theme of this show. It is a spectacle of the voices of Lata Mangeskar, Shahrukh Khan and many more musical sounds, sounds, songs and lights of many colours. In addition, you are enlightened about the invasions of Alla-ud-din Khilji and Akbar.... You also learn about the biggest “Johar”, an act of self-immolation by 13000 women and children when the men folks and soldiers got defeated in the war.

 

The fort was so fascinating and its history so interesting that we decided to visit it again before leaving for Udaipur the next day.

 

On the way, Darshi took a tandoori chicken to enjoy it with his evening drinks. We stayed at the dinning hall for dinner and Darshi went to our room upstairs for his drink. The food was delicious and you could have as many helpings as you desired. They served chhach and sweets too.

 

***

 

 

When we reached our room, Darshi had not yet finished with his drinks. He was enjoying his evening in the open air in the balcony from where he could view his fascination, the railway station. Gopi sat with him and they engaged in conversation. I took out my nightdress from my bag. The bag had gone through a check. It was evident from the stacking of the clothes.  Darshi was on the job. I did not know if, it was before we left or if he searched my bag while we were in the dining room. I knew how I had to avoid the heist.

 

 

January 24

We left the hotel early at 8 a.m. and had breakfast at the tourism restaurant near Jaya Stambha (tower of victory). We hired a guide to avoid irritation. We promised to pay him Rs.100 only. You will be contacted constantly if you are seen walking around without one. The tourism department credits some guides. They charge you not less than Rs. 500. The fort is in ruins; still it is a magnificent attraction of Chittorgarh. There are ruins of palaces, lakes and ponds. A few temples are also there. They say these are not the originals but have been restored. The most famous one is the Sammideshwar temple. One of the other temples is MiraTemple.

 

While we were at this temple, I saw a poor woman selling pictures. Although we had our camera and got a few photos of our own, I bought some from the old woman. While I was there, an attractive woman in denim jeans and jacket came towards me and asked, “Are these pictures worth buying?” “The idea is not the quality or utility of the pictures, but helping the poor woman,” I said. “There can be no better photograph than you standing before the temple,” I continued. “Come on uncle, let us stand together and make it more interesting,” the beautiful woman said sportingly. I requested Darshi to take a snap and he obliged. She clicked all the three of us with her camera. We exchanged introductions.

 

She was Srabanty and she was from Gurgaon, near Delhi. She had come with her baby and husband along with a few friends in tow. She promised to visit me in Delhi.

 

By 1 p.m., we were able to leave for Udaipur. Although the distance between Chittorgarh and Udaipur is only 140 km, we could reach Udaipur by 4.30 p.m. Wherever the highway is under construction, it takes a lot of time even to negotiate a short distance. First, we went inside the city, but the traffic was so heavy and the streets were so narrow that it was not easy to find parking for the car. We decided to move outside the city. We were able to find the accommodation in the house of a transporter. He gave us a room with three beds but there was no facility for breakfast or food. He lived with his two sons and their families. They were very simple people. The food was available just half a km from the house. It was sunset so we decided to settle down for the night. Darshi as per his routine sent the son of the owner to fetch him a chicken and a quarter of his favouriteold monk rum and refused to move from there. Gopi and I went to the nearby restaurant and had our dinner there. We did not forget to bring “rasmalai” for Darshi. After having his drinks, Darshi talks a lot and when nobody is available or not interested to talk, he talks on the phone to his friends, family and relatives. The evening drink gives him lot of energy and he talks quite enthusiastically on phone. Usually he is a very sober man and does not talk much.

 

January 25

After a comfortable sleep, day dawned for us at 7 a.m. We decided to go the city by auto. As our last day’s experience was not good about the traffic in the city. We went to the FatehSagarLake first. There are quite a few restaurants on the banks of the lake but we chose the Lakeview Restaurant. It is on a height and gives a beautiful view of the lake and the NehruPark. We enjoyed stuffed paranthas with curd there.

 

You can visit the Nehru garden only by boat. There are two types of boat services—one takes you directly to the garden and the other service takes you around the lake.  We took the first service, but it is better to take the second one because the boat journey is enjoyable and you get a better view of the lake. However, if you take the first one, you save Rs. 20 per person.

 

When we were in the boat, my phone buzzed “Uncle, I have just seen you riding the boat. You were looking great.” It was girl’s voice and I could not recognize her. I asked, “Who are you?” “Tum to thehre pardesi, pyar kya nibhaoge” the musical words were pouring into my ears. As I could not place her, I just kept mum for a few seconds when the voice came, “Uncle! I am Srabanty.” I was pleasantly surprised. Generally, we meet people at tourist spots, get friendly, exchange telephone numbers, but seldom call each other again. “Where are you?” I enquired. “We have just left the lake and are going to ‘Sehelion ki Bari’ and then to the museum,” Srabanty announced. “I will try to catch you somewhere and thanks for calling,” I said and disconnected the phone.

 

The Nehru garden is very beautiful and well maintained. Whenever you see water and greenery in Rajasthan, you feel very good as you expect to see only sand or dry hills there. In the Nehru garden, you see greenery everywhere. There are quite a few fruit trees. There we could see ‘bel’ and other fruits on some trees. You do not wish to leave the place. Udaipur has many tourist spots and it was our first one, so we left after half-an-hour.  

 

The Village, 3 kilomtres from the old city, is an artificially created rural scene. There you can enjoy camel and horse rides.  A restaurant here serves thali for 70, 100 & 120 rupees, each depending upon the number of dishes you choose. The food is delicious and chhach is very satisfying. There are shops of traditional clothes and handicrafts.  Rajasthani folk dances and music entertain you. It is a good experience in good ambience.

 

 Next, we went to the market.  Gopi wanted to buy some wooden toys for his two-year old granddaughter. Udaipur is famous for wooden toys, wooden showpieces, and utility items. After that, we visited the famous PicholaLake. It is in a crowded area and you cannot imagine that you are approaching a lake until you reach it. The luxurious LakePalace hotel is standing in the centre of the lake. Motor boats take you to the hotel. The white coloured structures look beautiful in the water. Udaipur has more than seven small and big lakes that justify it being famous as a city of lakes and gardens.

 

We returned to our room, as Gopi was to catch the train back home. We all had fruits in the room. I could feel that Gopi and Darshi were not enjoying the fruits. Their eyes were on the big Swiss knife. I said, “Hard luck Gopi! You can at least wish luck to Darshi and hope that he will be able to filch the knife.” “I certainly wish him best of luck, but you are too vigilant,” said Gopi. There was sign of disappointment in his voice. “To give a fair chance to Darshi on our onward journey, I will leave the knife in the room where we stay and not carry it with me outside,” I said. Darshi said,” I think now you can take your knife as good as stolen. By the way, why are you so possessive about the knife?” “I can only wish you best of luck on your good maligned endeavour. This is a 25-attachmentsknife, it is a gift given to me by a very dear friend. I rate it as one of the most treasured memorabilia I have. I will try everything to foil your heist.” “I clearly see my way to accomplish the challenging job entrusted to me by Gopi,” said Darshi. We had a hearty laugh.  

 

After seeing Gopi off, we were sombre. Gopi is such a vibrant and lively person that he lightens the dullest moments. Engrossed in our thoughts, we did not talk with each other and strolled back to our room. I decided to skip dinner. Gopi asked Raja, the son of the house owner, to bring him half-tandoori chicken and a quarter of his favourite Old Monk rum. After gulping two pegs, Darshi exclaimed, “Let us go back to Delhi. It will be very boring without Gopi.” I kept quiet.  I had nothing better to say.

 

The Republic Day

The advantage with Darshi is that he is an early riser. He needs to take three to four turns at tea after that. Still, we were ready to move out of Udaipur even before the watch struck eight. We were staying at the outskirts of Udaipur, so we hit the highway in less than ten minutes. The highway up to Ahmedabad is as excellent as any other highway anywhere in the world. Our car was gliding through the highway to Ahmedabad. Silently, we were passing through the beautiful Aravalli range of hills. Darshi is not a great talker and with age he has developed words-munching habit. We were silent because we were badly missing Gopi and were thinking of him and the enjoyable time we spent together. Gopi is a very articulate talker and has immense general knowledge. He can talk on any subject or topic under the sun and his talk is always informative and authentic.  He enlivened up every moment of our journey until he left us at Udaipur.

 

Darshi broke the ice as he felt the need for breakfast. He is very particular about the timings of his breakfast, lunch and dinner. He does not take anything in-between and is satisfied with his usual quota of three pegs and non-vegetarian snacks for dinner. He is very active and punctual but from the start of the trip, he was having a severe back problem and that was hindering his movements largely. He was in pain but kept his spirits up and decided to move on. We halted at Himmat Nagar for breakfast. The highway passes through this industrial town. We took breakfast at a very big restaurant, namely Mishtaan Bhandar. It had more than 200 seats and was very neat and clean. Idli-vada served to us was very delicious.

 

While we were having breakfast, I received a call from Tsering from Goa. Tsering is a member of my extended family in Katmandu. We maintain a relation which is nearer to the one between a father and a son. He was in Goa with his immediate family and wanted us to join them at the earliest, as he was to leave Goa on 1st of Feb. I promised him to be as fast as practically feasible. The call gave impetus to our action and we wished to reach Goa as early as possible. It was by then evident to me that we needed some more company to enjoy our trip fully and there was a whole family of four waiting for us in Goa.

 

With renewed energy, I drove through Gandhinagar, Ahmedabad, Baroda Expressway and then really bad, under construction road between Baroda and Surat.  The Baroda Expressway is as good as you may expect and while driving you feel as if you are sailing on water. The roads between Baroda and Surat were the worst we negotiated until that stretch of our journey. Flyovers, rail overbridges and roads—altogether are under construction and take a toll of your patience, energy and reflexes. Finally, we stopped at Navasari, a small town some 250 kms shy of Mumbai

 

Navasari is about 20 km from Dandi, the place from where Bapu started his famous Dandi March. The sea is not far from this town. We could find only two hotels in Navasari. The first one, Samrat, had only one unoccupied room, but the owner was sleeping in it and the receptionist would dare not wake him up to accommodate us. So we moved to Alfa hotel. It had a big restaurant on the ground floor. Rooms were available on the first and the second floors. A Muslim owns the hotel. The receptionist was an Indian beauty. She spoke beautiful English. Her name was Sunaina. It was a pleasant surprise to find a Hindu girl working at a hotel owned by a Mohammedan. Post-Godhra, it is difficult to imagine that such cordial relations still exist. The girl was very helpful and allotted us a room on the first floor. The room was airy with a balcony and the charges were only rupees four hundred for the night.

 

The call from Tsering and the distance we were away from Delhi gave a new direction to our thoughts. However, it did not mean that I had forgotten Gopi. I was still missing him. Thinking of him gave me a strange feeling, which was definitely not good. After taking dinner, I rang up my friend Rohit Jugraj, a film director in Mumbai. He has to his credit one flop, Ram Gopal’s “James” and one average film “Superstar”.  His wife, a doctor, was working in a Delhi hospital. I had learnt that she had taken upa job in Mumbai, and had started living with her very handsome husband. Many a time, I wonder why Rohit decided to become a director. He could have easily run away with much more accolade and success as an actor. When he responded to my call, I asked him if he and his wife Priyanka were in position to accompany us to Goa. He declined my offer, citing the plea that his father-in-law was visiting them and he had an important meeting with famous duo of producers, Abbas Mastan. I felt sad but could not do anything. I felt lonely. Darshi had come back after his drinks and dinner. He was busy enjoying smoking in the balcony. He is always considerate not to smoke in the room. I just went down to change my mood. No sooner did I come down than it dawned to me that I had done the right thing. There I could see polite Sunaina talking to two other workers of the hotel. They were talking in Gujarati. I would have easily believed that they were all of the same religion had I not asked a worker earlier. He had told me that except Sunaina, all other staff members were Muslims. Language and dress link us to a particular community irrespective of our beliefs and religion. I could realize the power of regional language. It unites people. I developed a good conversation with Sunaina. She told me that she never felt that she was from a different religion. She always felt that they all were Gujaratis first and then Muslims or Hindus. How nice it would be if every Indian felt that he was just and foremost an Indian, irrespective of his caste or creed! Sunaina’s duty was up to 10 pm. She excused herself and left. I returned to my room. Darshi was already enjoying his dreams.

 

January 27

When I was talking to Tsering he was very excited at the thought of having us with him and asked me to make it up to Kolhapur by evening, in order to reach Goa by noon the next day. It was a tall order. The distance was more than 600 kilometres. It was stupidity at its worst. At 65, after sleeping for 6 hours, driving through the day for 600 kilometres before sun set was asking too much. It was simple madness.  Courtesy Darshi, we had a head start on the entire tour. We did not waste any time and started early at 5.30 a.m. It was quite dark and the daybreak was an hour away.

 

Driving from Navasari, we crossed through Chikli 29 kms, Valsad 22 kms, Pardi 10 kms, and Kasakhurd 10 kms before we had our breakfast at a dhaba. It was the first instance when we found that there was no electricity at the dhaba. Otherwise we specifically noted that the electricity was not missing anywhere in our journey of about 1400 kms. From Manor, we took a bypass to Bhivandi and Thana. From Thana, we directly landed at Pune, by bypassing Mumbai.  Travelling through Mumbai would have ruined most of the day. Moreover, Rohit declined to accompany us and I was not much interested in wasting time in the concrete jungle and was eager to be with the Sherpa family in Goa at the earliest.

 

The Expressway to Pune is the most scenic of all. Passing through tunnels is a magical experience. Moving through Khandala and Lonavala is naturally delightful. Pune is a crowded city and a lot of development is going on, but the ride through the highway is surprisingly pleasant and smooth.  The hoardings along the highway rightly pronounce that that it is a pride project of Maharashtra Government. When the watch struck seven, we were at Kolhapur. I stopped the car on the roadside and sent Darshi to enquire in the hotel about the availability of a room. It was dark and there were no lights outside. After 15 minutes, Darshi came back. He asked me to move on. He appeared to be very furious. After moving for a few minutes, I asked if no rooms were available. He replied, “The receptionist was a stupid fellow.” “What happened?” I asked. Darshi replied me angrily, “He asked me if I was alone or with family and when I said it was a family, he said he would give the room at 11.00 p.m.  He told me that the police might come. Is it not stupidity? I think the receptionist was insane or drunk”. I could understand why Darshi could not understand that the receptionist thought that Darshi wanted to spend a few hours only. He could not see me sitting in the car and thought that there was some woman in the car. Nevertheless, I did not elaborate it, as I did not want to ignite the lust of my friend. We found a good accommodation in the Opael Hotel in the city. Luckily, we could get a room with a balcony. Darshi forgot the stupidity of the receptionist of the Prince hotel and soon he was enjoying his drink and tandoori chicken. As usual, I slept while Darshi was on his mobile phone, talking to his sister-in-law.

 

January 28

Next morning, we were ready to leave by 8. Driving 60 kms to Sarkeshwar, on the highway, we took right turn for Goa. It was a single road but was scenic and without any potholes. Both sides were lined with trees and it was green everywhere. Occasionally, you could see a bus coming from the opposite direction. It was not a welcome thing because taking over or negotiating a bus coming from the opposite side was not easy. We passed through beautiful places namely Gandhiganai 17kms, Ajra 20kms, and Amboli 32kms.Amboli is a cool place.  The temperature is quite low here even in summers. The Kamats are constructing a hotel there, although the tariff of the hotel is quite high for a place like that. We had our breakfast in its beautiful restaurant. The next station was Savantvadi. The town is on the Mumbai- Goa railway line. It has a railway station, probably the last station in Maharashtra. After travelling some 205 kms from Kolhapur, we crossed a bridge and we were in a Penim, the first destination in North Goa.

 

Enter Goa and you will find water bodies and greenery everywhere. You cross the TerikhRiver and than you witness the most romantic scene of the sea embracing the stunning river in to her arms on your right. The national high-way number 17 from Mumbai also enters Goa and the kilometre stone shows Panaji, the capital of Goa to be just 45 kilometres from there. However, Panaji was not our destination. We enquired about the way to the market of Penim from a passer-by and were rightly directed and reached there in 5 minutes. It was a few minutes before Tsering and his family reached there in a maroon coloured Maruti 800. Tsering is a smart person. He had hired a car in Goa on a daily basis. I had heard that motorbikes and scooters are available on hire in Goa, but that one can hire a car too in Goa was news to me. After showing his pleasure and welcoming us in Goa, he asked us to follow his car. Uma, his daughter, did not appear in good spirits to me. Tenzin, Tsering’s vivacious, tall and loving wife, told us that Uma was having some infections and was running fever and having stomach ache. Holidays are the worst time to fall ill as not only you do not enjoy the holidays but also months later you forget all about the holidays and remember only your illness. In 15 minutes, we were at Ivan’s guesthouse at Arambol beach. It was a three storiedbuilding having rooms with attached bathrooms. We got our room on the 1st floor. Tsering had hired two rooms on the 2nd floor. Besides Ivon’s guesthouse, there were other guesthouses all around in plenty.  There were coconut trees all over the place. It was sandy everywhere. The rentals here depend on the number of tourists at a particular time and due to 26/11, this season the number of tourists was very low. Mostly, there were foreigners. I could not find any other Indian among the tourists there. The Arambol beach is an exotic place. It has foreigners, local people (fishermen) and coconut trees, all mingled finely with each other. It is a two-kilometre long beach, quaint, quiet and very peaceful. The sea hardly stretches its limits. You can feel people enjoying the atmosphere. Tourists, especially foreigners, could be seen enjoying all sorts of activities: yoga, exercises, walking, cycling, sunbathing and swimming. The Times before dawn and dusk are very interesting. You can feast your eyes on topless beauties aplenty and with some luck, get the views of your wildest imaginations. For locals, the day starts much before sunrise. The men go for fishing and the women are busy in cleaning the beach and other places.

 

***

 

After having a delicious Chinese lunch and resting for an hour or two, we could not resist the temptation of going to the sea, which was just 100 yards away from our hotel. It was early evening and there was hardly anybody on the beach. The sea gave a magnanimous view. Water approached the shore like a giant wall and then subsided in an abject surrender. This mesmerizing view of building a wall of water and its subsequent fall is so fascinating that you never get tired of watching it. We were there for almost two hours and when we returned the lights were already on.  After having an Indian dinner at Ivan’s restaurant, we retired early, yet got up late in the morning.

 

January 29

Uma had not recovered and Darshi and I were not yet feeling very good after the long journey. We rested for the day except for the occasional visits to the sea. Floating on the waves with the help of an inflated tube is great fun if you are not at good terms with the art of swimming. Meanwhile, Darshi went to a wine shop to buy a bottle of his favourite drink. He did not enjoy the drink Tsering bought for him the previous day. I went around and talked with all sorts of people. Everyone was very forthcoming to talk. I met a couple from Spain who spent most of their time in Goa. The lady taught music and the man was an artist. They told me that they were thinking of buying a house in Goa. They liked the people and atmosphere in Goa. I also chatted for some time with a Nepali. He told me that he was working there as a waiter. He wanted to go back to Nepal but might not be able to do so as the owner of the restaurant would not relieve him before the end of the season. He also told me that huts were available for a rent as low as Rs.300.  Tenzin had told me that we would have to pay Rs. 650 for the room. The facilities in huts and the room were the same. I thought to discuss this with Tenzin.  

 

January 30

Next day after my morning walk, I was just chatting with the music lady when I saw an exceptionally gorgeous girl in the hut opposite to the one occupied by the Spanish couple. The girl had a universally acknowledgeable beautiful face, dove-like eyes and fresh skin. She was almost 20. She was extremely attractive and I could not check myself from going to her.  She was sitting on a chair in the veranda of her hut. She was wearing a short skirt and a sleeveless top and was sitting cross-legged giving a delightful exposure. I was encouraged by her welcome smile and greeted her with a smile. I grabbed the only other chair available and made myself comfortable. I gave my introduction and waited for her to speak. She told me that her name was “Nina” and she was a Russian. She worked as a desk manager in a hotel in a town called Samara, some 70 kms away from the capital city of Moscow. She was a chemistry graduate like me and we struck common chord in a jiffy. We talked about our families, interests and other things till a young boy in twenties came clad in a swim short. He sat on the floor. Nina said, “Meet my friend Alex.” I was not enthusiastic to know about Alex. I realized that in that short span I had become possessive of Nina and wanted her undivided attention. This was strange but a pleasant thought. Soon I overcame my thoughts and started talking to Alex and enquiring about him. He worked as an executive in the same city as Nina in Russia. They made an attractive couple. I asked them if they were going to marry. Alex was very forthright and said that he was not thinking of marriage yet. I could see that Nina was emotional about him but Alex was a practical attractive young man. Suddenly, I thought of my Swiss knife. In the rush of things and concentrating on reaching Goa at the earliest, I had forgotten about my precious possession, which needed a constant vigil to guard it, from heist by the enemy. The thought disturbed me and I left for my room, but not before inviting them to come to my room for tea in the evening. Darshi was in the bathroom. I hurriedly went for the knife. I was relieved to find it safe at the place where I had hidden it. I thought due to tiredness and hectic schedule, Darshi would not have tried even to look for the knife. However, I was wrong. Darshi came out of the bathroom and said, “I have a confession to make.” I did not say anything. He continued after a pause, “I tried at Navasari. Kolhapur and even here, but I could not find the knife. Are you carrying it on your person?” “No, as per my word, I will not carry it with me outside our abode. Don’t lose heart, you still have many days,” I said to him. After a pause Darshi said, “The other thing is that I am missing Gopi. You are not game for the evening game. We did not succeed in Ajmer, Chittor and Udaipur, but at least we tried while Gopi was with me.” I had nothing better or helpful to say, so I kept mum.

 

Uma was to have an injection so I accompanied the Sherpa family after we had finished our breakfast. The doctor was some two km from the place we were staying. I got my blood pressure checked by the doctor. The reading was normal.

 

After that, we left for the capital city of Panaji, which is some 35 kms from Arambol. Driving on NH 17 through Mapusa and crossing the bridge over Ouren creek, you enter Panaji. Panaji is a beautiful city. After driving through the city, we parked our car near the Church of our Lady of the Immaculate Conception. It is a beautiful church, very brightly whitewashed. We walked through the square around the municipal gardens and decided to have lunch at the Kamath’s. They serve delicious vegetarian Indian food.

 

When we came out of the Kamath’s after having lunch, I had a pleasant surprise. I saw Nina and Alex strolling in the verandah. Our eyes met and we moved towards each other. I introduced Nina and Alex to the rest of the people. After some routine talk, we agreed that they would meet us at the Municipal garden at 3 p.m. They had come by bus so I offered them a lift back to Arambol, which they gratefully accepted. The local bus service is not that comfortable. Every one of us, except Darshi, went for shopping. Darshi had terrible backache and was not able to move much. He sat in the garden. Most of us returned to the garden at 3 p.m. Nina and Alex joined us immediately after. We showed our shopping to each other. Tenzin liked my shopping and wanted to buy some similar things. I told her about the shop from where I have purchased those things. She left and all others stayed back and chatted.

 

 Nina is an innocent girl. I jokingly asked her to invite me whenever she married. She promised to do that. I even pretended to read her palm. I predicted that she would be a married woman by the end of the year. Alex said, ‘that is a hell of a time. She is in a big hurry to marry”. Niña started pushing and slapping Alex. We all laughed.

 

We returned to Arambol at 5 p.m. When it was dark at about 7 p.m., Nina and Alex came to us for tea. They brought cake and sweets for us. We had tea together. During the talk over tea, they told me that they had their return flight from Mumbai on the 18th. I asked them to accompany us to Delhi and from there they could go to Mumbai to catch the flight. They told me that they would consider it and tell us by next day. We were to leave the day after.  After being with us two for an hour, they left. I said to Darshi, “I wish Nina to accompany us to Delhi.” “I have no objection but what about Alex?” I could see lewdness in his eyes. “There are always thorns with flowers,” I said jokingly. Darshi went into his thoughts. I could not read them. When Tsering’s family returned after visiting the doctor, I propped up this issue. Tenzin had no objection but she did not support me enthusiastically. Tsering said, “You may get into some problem Uncle, you do not know them a bit.” Darshi supported him and said, “They may be carrying drugs. These foreigners are notorious for these things.” “They are innocent people, moreover I have taken their home addresses and we can always check their passports,” I retorted. “Why do you want to take “panga”?” said Darshi. “You don’t talk much; you enjoy your smoke and drink most of the time. I am feeling bored. What is the harm if I get some enjoyment in their company?” There were hints of anger and frustration in my voice. “I think this is not worth it and definitely not needed. Moreover, you are to visit some friends and relatives on the way. This will put you in an embarrassing position,” Tsering finished the argument. Tenzin left silently to her room on the second floor. I could see that she was also siding with Darshi and Tsering. I reluctantly agreed to Darshi’s wish. Later I refused to go for dinner. I was not feeling good. Was it my cupidity?

 

31.1.2009

In the morning when I woke up, Darshi was not there. When he returned, he told me that he was sitting with Lal Bahadur, the Nepali waiter who was working at Ivan’s guesthouse. I had met him earlier. He was not happy there and wanted to go back home. He was only waiting to get his dues cleared. After an hour, the Nepali came again. They left together. When Darshi returned alone after half-an-hour, he did not talk, but he appeared to be happy and somewhat satisfied as if he had achieved something. I asked him for a cup of tea. He nodded and started making tea. When we were sipping tea, Tsering came. He said, “Good Morning Uncle.” “Good Morning,” I returned his greetings and continued, “What is the agenda for today?” “We will spend the forenoon in our rooms and at nearby Arambol beach. After that, we will have lunch at Double-Dutch. And from there we will go to Aynne beach, Calangyute beach and Baga beach and on our way back would have dinner in Mapusa.” I immediately said, “That is very nice and exciting.” It suited me, as I wanted to be away from Arambol as I was gathering courage to face and say no to Nina. I was reluctant to go to the sea after breakfast. I did not want to face Nina as her hut was on the way to the sea. In fact, it was the last hut before the beach started. However, as all were going to the beach, I too accompanied them. Luckily or not, Nina’s hut was locked from out-side and strangely, I did not feel relieved. I felt disappointed at not seeing her lovely face.

 

We enjoyed ourselves at the sea, with its waves, sand and swimming until 1.30 and then came back to our respective rooms. We were at Double Dutch for lunch. We ordered some cakes, pastries and coffee. Double Dutch has a rustic look, but it is a high-end restaurant, which serves you many international dishes.

 

 

When we were approaching the Calangyute beach through a very crowded road, we saw a topless foreigner coming from the beach side. we felt very bad. It is acceptable to show your assets at less crowded beaches but to walk like that on a crowded road leaves a bad taste in the mouth. At 5.30, we were at beach, the most famous and crowded beach of Goa. It has a big market selling all sorts of tourists’ lures and attractions. Tenzin helped me to buy some gifts for my friends back home. I sat on a two feet high wall at the beginning of the beach. A woman in her fifties joined me. She was Parmeshwari. She was from Pune. She had come there with her sister. She told me that she had had a surgery for the removal of her uterus. She was having pain. It was very uncomfortable for her to walk. She also told me that her husband was a tailor in Pune and she had a son and a daughter. Both were married. I wonder why she told me all this. Probably, she wanted a vent for her feelings of pain and could not find another listener. A large crowd had gathered at the beach to enjoy the beautiful spectacle of sunset. Everybody tried to capture the splendour in his or her eyes, mind and cameras. Practically everybody with a camera was shooting the last sun of the day. By 7.30, it was dark at the beach and we left the place.

 

***

 

On the way, we had dinner at Ramlabai Bar & Restaurant, Mapusa. It is a Goan food eatery. The fish malai and fried fish were simply out of this world. We thoroughly enjoyed the dinner and reached Arambol by 10.30 pm.  The Nepali waiter was strolling outside our guesthouse. Darshi motioned to him as if asking him to wait.  The Nepali might have been waiting to bring whiskey for Darshi to earn some tip. Darshi changed his clothes and asked me if I would like to go for a stroll. It was surprising as Darshi’s back was not okay. However, I was in no mood to oblige him. My faculties were exhausted for the day, I was dying to hit the bed, and that is what exactly I did.

 

 

February 1

In the morning at about 6, Darshi woke me up. He had prepared tea. Over the tea, he calmly started the conversation. “The Nepali has duped me of Rs. 10,000.” He further added, “It was lure of white skin which forced me to make a fool out of myself.” He went on, “The piece was so frigid that I could not even enter.” “What is Nepali’s fault in that?” I asked. “He knew everything. He just gave a thousand rupees to the old lady and pocketed the rest of the money himself and has left the place for good in the night itself.” “Oh I see. But for you it is just 200 dollars,” I tried to lighten up the atmosphere. “My dear, it is not the money, it is the feeling of guilt and getting cheated. My lust has let me down,” Darshi said in a philosophical manner. “I think it is the feeling of getting cheated by an illiterate person which is killing you,” I said. “You are right. The other lesson I have learnt is that complexion and beauty have nothing to do with enjoyment in bed”, Darshi concluded the conversation.I hurriedly took a bath, got ready and left. I could not have imagined leaving Arambol without meeting Nina. I reached her hut. The door was ajar and I pushed it and it gave in as it was not bolted from inside. Nina was sleeping in the bed. I was startled as she was sleeping topless and there was no sign of Alex. I backed off silently and closed the door. “Oh! Come in,” Nina called from inside. I waited for a few seconds to allow her to put on something, knocked on the door and entered. She was in the same state as I had seen a few seconds earlier. She motioned me towards a red plastic chair. I made myself comfortable in the chair.  She got up and sat there on the bed facing me. Her firm, rounded, well built and big boobs with baby-pink nipples were challenging me. They were so beautifully compact that no support was required. The blue coloured support was lying abandoned on the side table. Probably, no male, however old he may be, can feel at ease in these circumstances.  “Alex is not willing to accompany you. He says that it could be very hot on the way to Delhi.” Nina’s words were extremely relieving for me and suddenly I felt very comfortable. I felt extremely relieved and then it did not matter in which state she was. We started talking. She told me many things about her, her family, her job and even her earnings. She was from an ordinary family, and had just adequate income. She promised that she would always remain in touch with me.  I asked her to be my guest on her next visit to India. She told me that Alex had gone to the sea to swim. After half-an-hour of pleasant chatting, I took her permission to leave. She insisted for some more time, but I knew that Tsering or Darshi may be searching for me and may come there sooner than expected.

 

Nina grabbed a red towel, put that before her assets and came out of the hut to see me off.  She had beautiful, even muscular legs. She had a marvelous figure. There was not a pinch of extra fat anywhere. A passerby was going towards the sea. I asked Nina if she would mind a photograph with me. She not only obliged me but also struck a romantic pose by leaning towards me and demurely closing her eyes. She was definitely in love. I had no time to find out with whom. It could be Alex or someone back home. I could see that she was rubbing off these feeling of love on lucky me too. I told her that I would be going towards the sea to look for Alex, and left.

 

***

 

Alex met me on the way; he was coming back after his morning swim. We entered the hut, Nina was again in the bed, but this time she had put on her blue bra. She got up. Alex offered me tea, but I politely refused, as I did not want others back in the hotel to wait for me. We took another round of photographs. . I said goodbye to them and wanted to leave. Just then, Nina came towards me and put her lips on mine for a soft kiss. I could not stand there anymore and left, feeling and enjoying Nina’s fragrance.

 

My party was about to leave. I saw Darshi trying to close my attaché case. “Lust and covetousness, both are sins, my friend, and you have been let down by both,” I said. Darshi replied, “We are still to cover 2500 kms before we end this mission,” “Lage Raho Munna Bhai!” I said and both of us had a hearty laugh. We left at 10.30 a.m. After an hour, we had breakfast at Navtara. There I met my young friend, Rati. I had finished my breakfast but Rati was not allowing her parents to take theirs. Therefore, I picked her up and took her outside the restaurant. She was just two years old. Strangely, she did not cry and was happy with me. Maybe, I resembled her grandfather.

 

Along the coast, we travelled some 200 kms and entered Karnataka. The Karnataka beaches are also very beautiful. At some places, the sea had been able to wet the road we were travelling on.

We took a left turn at Sadashivgarh leaving NH 17 for Idgundi & Yellapur. At Yellapur, we again took a left turn and after travelling more than 300 kilometres from Arambol, we reached Mundgod at 6 p.m... Travelling through some of the poorest inhabitations of Karnataka, you witness the magnificence of Tibetan monasteries in Mundgod. You are wonder struck by the large, beautiful structure of so many monasteries around you. Everywhere you could see hordes of monks wearing their traditional red dress. The biggest of all the monasteries is the Dreping Loseling Monastery. The XIV Dalai Lama Tenzin Gyatso inaugurated it on January 2008. Five thousand (5000) monks can pray at a time in this monastery.

 

 A distant relative of Tsering, Geshe Lobsang Samten, received us very warmly. Geshe was a teaching Professor at DrepungLoselingUniversity, Mundgod.   Women cannot stay there with the monks, so Uma and Tenzin had to stay in a guesthouse some distance away. It is another thing that the accommodation at the guesthouse was more comfortable and had modern toilets.

 

FEBRUARY 2

There are some 10-15 monasteries for 9000 monks. Some distance away, there are four Tibetan camps. Every family has a plot of up to 500 yards for a house and a kitchen garden. Ever since 1959, they are living there with the hope of going back to Tibet someday. These colonies are not like slum colonies in our cities. They are quite clean, green and peaceful.

 

***
 

 The monasteries are peaceful, magnificent, kept spotless clean and maintained very well. One gets so much solace that one never desires to leave the place. Moreover, the monks and students served us very well. All of them were very disciplined, calm, satisfied and happy to be there.

I visited all the monasteries there with the Sherpa family. They prayed there and donated generously. They also distributed money among the monks.

 

February 3

After two nights of very comfortable stay there, we left Mundgod on Feb. 3at 9, but not before we had a heavy breakfast. We were also given food for the journey. The food was properly packed. We were given a warm send off and a flag was hoisted on our car to spell away bad spirits. Tsering’s family was to board the train at Hubli. Hubli is 45 km from Mundgod. We reached the railway station at 12 noon. Hubli is a rail-junction for Bangalore, Goa & Mumbai. It is a prosperous business city.

 

Travelling throughBelgaum, we reached Sarkeshwar at 2. Sarkeshwar was the place from where we took the turn for our up journey to Goa.  Then, it was the beaten track till we halted and checked in Horizon hotel, some 45 kms before Pune. The place we stayed in is a small town called Shinwal. In my own tiredness and pre-occupation with driving long distance, I could not notice that my dear friend Darshi was practically inactive after 6 and could come to action only when he had gulped two or three pegs. He ordered the waiter to bring him non-vegetariansnacks to enjoy with the evening drinks.  I went out to the nearby dhaba to have my dinner. The hotel did not serve anything as the kitchen and most part of the hotel was under renovation. At the dhaba, I met a truck driver who had lost both his legs in an accident. The amazing                             Joginder Singh was driving a 20-tonner truck with artificial legs. My hats are off to the tremendous courage of the man.

 

February 4

We started early next morning. My enquiries at a dhaba revealed that we should avoid crowded Pune and go directly to Harapsar from there. We travelled through the beautiful scenic villages and rural Maharashtra (Sasvad & Divadhar) before we reached the extremely crowded town of Harapsar. The traffic situation had worsened due to the developmental work going on in the town. It took us almost 45 minutes to cross the city before we were on the state highway to Ahmednagar and Aurangabad.

 

Once out of Harapsar you are on sail. There is no stopping till you are on the outskirts of the city of Aurangabad. You do not need to enter Aurangabad, if you are aiming Ajanta and Ellora as we were. On the way to Aurangabad, you pass through Ahmednagar and can see a white kilometre-stone showing Shirdi to be just 79 km away from there. While we were on our way to Ellora caves, I received a call from my friend Dr. Chauhan. He insisted upon me to include Bhopal in our journey and I agreed to do so. He had been pressing me to visit Bhopal ever since he and his wife moved to that place.

 

We reached Ellora at 5 p.m. and checked in Kailash Hotel. It is a beautiful, scenic and spacious place. The blocks of rooms and huts are scattered in the hills. The atmosphere is very clean and romantic. But I was with Darshi so there was no question of any romance as he was already dying for his drops. However, God is great and I was surprised to find that my neighbour in the hotel was one Nicholas from Switzerland. In her twenties, medium height, slim, oval face, Nicholas was very lively and talkative. She was there for the night and was to leave for Goa the next day. I told her about my experiences in Goa and gave her addresses of some hotels. Soon we were joined by her brother. He was also a sport and it was a memorable evening I spent with them. I had some fruits with me, I gave these to them. They accepted gratefully. Darshi is not interested in fruits. He rather prefers their fine extracts.

 

***

 

Darshi was in no mood to stir out of the room. So I moved out of the hotel. There was a row of dhabas on the road opposite to Kailash hotel. I enjoyed my dinner at Milan dhaba. I also ordered a bottle of Thumbs-up to copy Darshi and had my drinking urge fulfilled. I got packed scrambled eggs for Darshi. Nicholas had gone inside her room and I was extremely tired. I took my bath and retired for the day before it was 8.30 p.m.

 

February 5

I must admit that to describe, to delineate or to descry Ellora would be an unsuccessful effort by me. It would be impossible for words to do justice to the beauty and grandeur of Ellora. I always feel that a black beauty with other equal features always scores over a white one. Marvels had been carved out of the blackish hills merely by hands and hand-tools. These caves symbolize three different religious sculptures. There are the Buddha sculptures, which are on the right side of the entry. (Cave no. 17-29) These caves contain mainly the statues of the Buddha but there are some carvings of striking and exciting poses. They say that these were to recreate interest in regeneration as people had become so religious that they lost interest in sex. On the left of the entry gate, about 1 km away, there are Jain temples in caves no. 30, 31 and 32. However, the most beautiful and attractive are the Hindu temple of Lord Shiva and other caves (number 1 to 16) in the centre just in front of you when you enter through the main entrance.  If you are short of time, Caves no.1, 2, 10, 16, 17, 19 and 20 should never, never be ignored. We spent enough time inside the beautiful caves. But, when we come out, immediately the desire to re-enter the caves flashed through our mind. Actually, your heart never gets the contentment. Such is the power of these marvels of Ellora. I may say that they are the number one wonder of the world because about 1500 years ago, the means were not as sophisticated as they are now.  Great were the people of that time who created such marvels. You cannot stay at Ellora forever for obvious reasons. Therefore, we left for Ajanta some 120 kms away on Aurangabad-Jalgaon road.

 

***

 

People say that Ellora scores over Ajanta. However, my heart goes for Ajanta for quite a few reasons. The Ajanta trip is very well organized. You are to leave your car a few kilometers.  AC /non-AC buses take you through very exciting, enchanting, scenic and greenery to Ajanta for Rs. 24 and Rs. 12, respectively. There is a restaurant, which serves you tea and snacks. It is near the stairs that take you to the Ajanta caves. These are all Buddhist monasteries--20 of them in all. They have sculptures depicting the different patterns of the Buddha and deteriorating paintings. These caves were lost to the world. A British hunting party accidentally discovered these caves in 1819.  When I was at cave no. 16, I met a couple. They were Alisha and her would-be husband from Italy. They made an attractive couple. Our conversation started with the appreciation of the beauty of the caves. I said to the man, “The caves are wonderful but Alisha is more beautiful”. Alisha flushed. I continued, “You are related to us through one of the most powerful women in the world”. They appeared pleased by my words.  They were in a hurry to catch a bus to Jalgaon on their further journey to Rishikesh. I am still wonder-struck why Alisha hugged me and planted a parting kiss on my left cheek.

 

Darshi had stayed back at the foothill restaurant, as his back was not cooperating.  There were some 1500 steps before you reached the first cave. However, to my surprise when I was returning, Darshi came in a palanquin lifted by four workers. He said, “I did not feel proper to skip Ajanta after coming so far. It would have been a case of so near so far.” My regret was that had he come earlier I would have captured Alisha in his camera. I did not carry one.                 

 

Darshi had an attack of asthma after getting down from the bus. He sat down on the road. He looked shattered. He was suffering from breathlessness. I got the scare of my life. I asked a shopkeeper about the availability of a doctor in the vicinity. He told me that I could get one in the nearby town. But Darshi was insisting that he would be alright in a few minutes and we should proceed to Jalgaon and stay there. I put my foot forward and opted for the MTDC hotel. I contacted Dr. Chauhan in Bhopal telephonically. I describe Darshi’s condition to him. He calmed me and said that the patient should try inhaler. Luckily, after inhaling the inhaler, Darshi was better and was normal. We got up and started moving.  Dr. Chauhan called and enquired about Darshi’s condition. He once again reminded me about my having agreed to visit them in Bhopal.

 

Dr. Harbhan Chauhan was in the army. After retirement, he took up a job in sugar mill at Yamunanagar. He had retired two years ago from that job too. He and his wife Pushplata have two children. Both the children are qualified doctors. Rachna, their daughter, is in the USA. Their son, Rahul had no interest in medicine therefore, after completing his graduation in that he had decided to join film direction. He has two flops to his credit. The Chauhans have shifted to Bhopal. Dr Chauhan is a dear friend and is distantly related to me.

 

***
 

 

   

February 6

As there was no electricity in our hotel at Ajanta, we decided to move early and try to reach Bhopal by the evening. Bhopal is 500 kms from Ajanta.

 

We crossed Burhanpur, Khandwa, and Hoshangabad before reaching Bhopal at 5 p.m. in the evening.

 

As per a legend widely known in the area, Burhanpur was the original site for building the Taj Mahal. Khandwa is the birthplace of the great Hindi writer, poet and orator, Makhan Lal Chaturvedi. The legendary singer, actor, film-producer, director and music composer Kishore Kumar and his elder brother the all time great thespian of the Indian cinema, Ashok Kumar also came from there. At Hoshangabad, we took the highway to Bhopal.

 

Dr. Chauhan was constantly in touch with me. He asked us to wait at the gate of the university at the outskirts of Bhopal on the national highway. But he was already there when we reached there, to my surprise his house was some 10 kms from that place. He had come all the way, to make it convenient for us.

 

Fortune estate is a beautiful colony of Bhopal. It is a very clean habitat. It is very   green and has a dust free environment.  There is either grass or concrete roads and pavements. It is also well guarded. There is only one entry. There is a big park in the middle of this small colony of 200 houses. There is a temple, with the statues of all the Hindu deities, in the centre of the park. To cap it all, there is a hillock over looking Fortune estate. Dr. Chauhan is lucky to be living in such a peaceful colony.

 

Pushplata is an extremely elegant lady. We were received by her with great respect, love and warmth. She even did a short puja and put a tika on our foreheads before welcoming us into her house. It was a beautiful house with two bedrooms on the first floor and open roof above them. It was kept spotless clean, though at that time, their servant was on leave.

 

After taking our baths we enjoyed tea with freshly cooked snacks. Then we moved out to have a feel of the colony. We returned in half an hour, as I was too tired to exert myself any more.

 

Later in the evening, Darshi and Dr. Chauhan enjoyed their drinks. I chatted with Pushplata. She narrated to me how Dr. Chauhan had wooed her. He faced many hurdles. Once, seeing him near her house, her elder brother even beat the doctor badly. But the doctor was determined and won the battle finally. After all, he was an Indian military officer. After sometimes, she excused herself to go for food preparation and I went out for a breath of fresh air. An elaborate dinner was laid.  Chicken, mutton, rice, paneer, raita, green and Russian salads and moong ki daal ka halwa graced the dining table. Darshi said, “Bhabi, do you have a “chirag ka zin.” How do you manage so much in so little time?” Before Pushplata could utter anything, I could not resist and said, “I do not know about the chirag, but she definitely has a zin.” Everyone had a hearty laugh. Between light talks, we took our dinner and we retired after a long, tiring, but satisfying day. The secret of good mood is in being with good people and eating good food.

 

 

February 7

I was very clear about the fact that Chauhans were down to earth people. But what I witnessed was the limit of humility. I got up at 7. After a few minutes, I went out to the balcony for fresh air. I saw that Dr. Chauhan was dusting our car with a brush. He had already washed the car from outside. My esteem for Dr. Chauhan escalated to a new height, although I felt a bit shamed.

 

Dr. Chauhan had called for a masseur. He massaged Darshi and me for about an hour. It was very relaxing. I jokingly said to Darshi, “You would have been in seven’s heaven if Dr. Chauhan would have called a masseuse instead”. Dr. Chauhan said before Darshi could reply, “Tomorrow I will call for one”. I had hearty laugh but Darshi could only force a smile.

 

We finished breakfast by 9. The breakfast was a combination of the Indian and the continental. Soon after, we left for sightseeing in Bhopal and Sanchi. Pushplata stayed back.

 

The capital city of Bhopal is a city of lakes. The biggest of all is the upper lake, fondly called “The Bhopal Beauty”. It is very huge and gives the illusion of sea with speedboats racing on it. On the northern side of the lake there is a road called Hamidia road. It looks like the marine drive of Mumbai. The old city of Bhopal has plenty of mosques and bazaars.  We took the Hamidia road, then took a right turn to the Highway and after 5-6 kilometres took a left turn which took us directly to Sanchi. Surprisingly, even this was an extremely well maintained road. The 45 km drive from Bhopal to Sanchi, was a great pleasure. We reached there at 11 a.m.  After parking our car, we moved towards the stupa. There were a few school buses also parked there. We started taking photographs of each other with the stupa in the background. We wished to have a snap of all three together. I moved towards a woman in a blue sari. She was escorting a group of schoolchildren. I requested her to shoot us together. She said that she was not savvy with the art of photography. I told her that she had just to press a button. She agreed reluctantly and obliged. To show my courtesy, I continued conversation with her. I asked, “Ma’am! Which place do you belong to?” “I am from Bhopal. And you? She said. “I am a Delhite.” I replied.  She continued,” My sister is too in Delhi. She is a History Professor there.”  Bells started ringing in my mind. I live in Delhi University Professors’ colony. I enquired, “May I know her name?” “Mira Bhardawaj” She uttered. It was an amazing coincidence. Professor Mira Bhardawaj is my next-door neighbour. Happily Lalima Khandelwal agreed to have a joint photograph with me. Then she was called by her students and she excused herself and joined them.  Ashoka the Great built the first of the stupas in Sanchi after embracing Buddhism. The main stupa is very beautiful. It stands on a hill. It has four Torans, high gates, for entry from four directions. A foreigner, who was busy sketching the monuments with a pencil, impressed me. He was not carrying a camera. He was Frantisek Storm from Poland. He was a commercial designer and was into furniture business.  Most of the constructions are in utterly damaged condition but a great sight. These are beautifully maintained ruins. The surroundings are green and clean. There is an archeological museum worth a visit. You can spend hours here.

 

***

 

On our way back, we crossed through “Chatori Galli” a famous roadside food bazaar of Bhopal, enjoyed a few non-vegetarian snacks, and salted tea. We also passed through the road opposite to the ill-fated Union Carbide factory. A gas leak there had killed hundreds of people.

 

The evening dinner was the result of an all day of lavish preparation and labour put in by Pushplata. The hot salted chhach was a delicacy. I gulped four glasses to my heart’s content. No doubt, Pushplata is a wonderful cook. All the dishes served were mouth-watering and nobody could escape the sin of gluttony. I said, “Darling, if I had even 10 percent of your culinary expertise, I would have started a food chain.” I always address Pushplata as darling and do not know how Dr. Chauhan feels about it. He said, “You should visit us more often to learn that and as a byproduct, I will get good food.” “Friends you visit seldom or too often are lost,” I said. I could sense that Darshi was uninterested in the conversation, so we decided to retire for the day. After talking to my daughter the previous evening, I was missing her and other family members and wished to be with them sooner than the earliest. Darshi is an early riser and I asked him to wake me up at 5 a.m. so that we could leave by 6.

 

 

February 8

In the morning when we were taking leave of the Chauhans, Pushaplata gave me hugs, kisses and a bagful of eatables, for breakfast on the way. Dr. Chauhan gave me two packs of exotic perfumes.

 

I drove the fastest during the trip that day. We did not have to waste any time at dhabas for breakfast and lunch. The food in the bag was more than sufficient for two meals. I was desperate to reach my family at the earliest. Darshi repeatedly reminded me that I was driving dangerously fast. Having covered 650 kms, we touched Agra at 5 p.m. Every bone of my body was asking questions, Darshi was of no help. I settled for a filthy hotel, Jaidevi guesthouse, near the railway station and collapsed in to bed. Darshi took his drinks and left for Basai. I was sleeping so deeply that did not know when he returned.

 

We got up at 6 and immediately dashed homeward.

 

Darshi told me that the previous night was satisfying and he was able to have some satisfaction. I showed my pleasure on his accomplishment. Then he said that he had the regret that he could not lay his hands on my Swiss knife. He said, “I give up. You tell me where you have hidden it?” “Since you have given up, I must tell you that it is still in your possession. I knew that I would have to reveal the secret so I have left it there”. Saying this, I steered the car to a left side dhaba and got down. I ordered two cups of tea and asked Darshi to bring his attaché case. It was a 1980 VIP. “Do you know that this model of VIP has a secret pocket in its back wall?” I asked Darshi. He said, “I do not know about any secret pocket and it is also a fact that it never came to my mind that you would hide the knife in my attaché case.” I opened the zip of the secret pocket and took out my knife. Darshi was astonished but did not say anything.

 

The traffic from Hodal to Delhi was very heavy and we had to crawl through it to end the “AMAZING TRIP” in which I met amazing people, at 1.00pm on February9, 2009. I am thankful to many for encouraging me to take this trip but above all, I am thankful to my car, which did not  needed even a tyre pressure check in the entire tour.

 

The question remains, “Was it an adventure or a sin at the young age of 65?” The coming days may reveal.

 

 

 

 

Post Script

 

 

Nina has found a fiancé. He is not Alex. Alex says Nina is not as innocent as I thought her to be. Srabanity is a family friend now. My mails to the Swiss beauty always failed. Frantisek Storm is a friend and is in constant touch with me. I could not trace Alka. I sometimes miss Alisha. I did not exchange contact numbers with Parmeshwari. I am ashamed because I did not call or send a letter of thanks to Geshe. Dr. Chauhan regularly calls me from Bhopal. We are planning to travel through the entire eastern coast.

 

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The Shatabdi Express

Those were the cold and frosty evenings of January. Most people, especially women, didn’t like this gloomy and cold weather when the sun was always fighting a losing battle to come out.  People found it very depressing. But surprisingly, I always found that sort of weather very romantic. It was in such weather in the early evening on a beautiful day that I saw a tall, beautiful, fair-complexioned teenager with lusty hair and soft features moving swiftly on the track of the prestigious ornamental park of Vaishali. I was struggling to complete my quota of painful walk. My knees had been giving all sorts of problems to me after my adventurous road trip to Goa when I drove my Innova for more than five thousands kilometres. My snail paced walks were merely an excuse. It was then that the girl crossed me. I could not resist my temptation to strike a contact with her and uttered, “Good evening, Miss!” She not only kept mum but frowned at me and carried on with her health- maintenance programme. Then onwards I saw her every day, but could not muster enough courage to have another dig at her. Usually, I do not strike a conversation with girls and women unless they give some encouraging signals but this girl was an exception. I felt “Kuch- kuch hota hai” whenever I saw her.                                                                                   

Days, weeks and months elapsed but there was no change in her attitude and my feelings. There are three types of visitors to the park. The first are like this girl who just come for a walk and go. The second type are like me who spend two hour each in the morning and the evening. They walk for a little and then sit and gossip. And the third type are those who are too old, they are coming for a sunbath or just occupy the benches. Love-birds too come in this category. My park friends told me that they had christened this girl as “Shatabdi-Express”. The Buddhas (very old persons) have this self satisfying habit of naming every girl or woman coming to the park. Another girl who is swifter than ‘Shatabdi’ is called by them as ‘Teer’ meaning arrow. Then in September I got another heart attack. I could not go to the park for one month. When I resumed my outing to the park, the first thing I noticed was that  both ‘Teer’ and ‘Shatabdi’ were also there in the park and that ‘Shatabdi’ had become swifter and faster of the two.  I resumed my walks but was very slow in the beginning. One evening, while I was performing my ritual of a walk, ‘Shatabdi’ came from behind and hit me by her left shoulder. Before, I could realise whether It was an earth quack or a tsunami, she was far ahead on the track. The scene was performed again a fortnight later and surprisingly it was I who unconsciously uttered, “Sorry!” From that day onwards I started strolling in the opposite direction to her to avoid another accident.

One month later, in the last week of April, I successfully avoided another mishap on the track. To my utter surprise she gave me a beautiful smile and said, “Sorry, uncle!” That was the first green signal for me. I also saw her from that close an angle for the first time. She was much more beautiful than I presumed. She had clear shining skin, classical Indian face decorated with luscious lips, intoxicating eyes and a beautiful nose. She was a beauty in every sense of imagination.

The next day I was sitting on the green bench attending to a call on my mobile phone. I waved to her and she responded quickly and enthusiastically.

In our next three meetings she said, “Good evening, uncle!” and I responded fondly. But the next time when she repeated the greeting, I got hold of her and said, “Uncle is so flat, boring and formal. My name is Ved and you can call me Ved uncle”. “I would love that Ved uncle! And My name is………” And then it  dawned upon me why ‘kuch- kuch” was happening to me.

Her name was Anjali. 

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A Leaf From My Diary

            It was a magic day.  There was excitement, fear, anticipation and expectations in the air.  Everyone on the roads and phones, in the street and parks, young, old and very old were talking about the same thing.  Moreover, everyone was a confident expert.  It was 2nd April, 2011 the day when later in the day World Cup final was to be played in aapuni Mumbai, the city of God Sachin Ramesh Tedulkar. 1.2 billion Indians were dreaming an expectation that it was their day; that history was going to repeat itself after 28 long and anxious years.  In between, six world cups had eluded us and we have to watch the 25th June's Kapil Dev’s miraculous catch again and again.  Sach poocho to hum puck chuke the and wanted to see something new.

            On the breakfast table I told my family that I was going to skip watching the match. I had a dream that if I watched it, India would lose. They agreed and allowed me to spend the day with my friends. This was an excuse enough for me to pay a visit to my friend's house in Punjabi Bagh.  Mr. Ram Ji Dass had died a few days back.  He was 90.  His son Kundan Lal is also quite close to me.  I could not attend the funeral due to my poor health. I requested Darshi to pick me up in his car from my house at 11.00 AM.  Mr. Anadish and Dr. Ajit also accompanied us.

            I was alsoto drop some papers at my CA's house, also in Punjabi Bagh.  I requested Darshi to take the car to his house while returning from Kundan's house.  As expected, my CA Mr. Chander Bhan Gupta was not at home.  Pushpa, the chirpy wife of Chander Bhan was there. She not only pressed me to stay with her for some time but also ensured it by going out to tell Darshi and others to go home and that she would arrange to drop me at my house.  I had gone to her house after 6-7 months although she had visited me 2-3 times during my long illness and confinement at home.

            After spending more than one hour with me she telephoned her husband and informed him about my presence there.  Mr. Gupta was there in a few minutes as he had his office nearby.  At 1 PM she asked her son Veenu to drop me at my residence.  While in the car I directed Veenu to drop me at Moti Nagar Metro Station and at 1.30 PM I was at C.P.  Everything was going as per the script penned by me.  It was all premeditated and scheduled as I was to meet my muse in the Central Park. Both Gopi and VIN had told me separately that she would be in the office and I had prayed and succeeded in getting the meeting fixed.  But the script had a twist then. I had no desire to share my acquaintance with VIN with Gopi. But VIN asked me on my mobile phone to wait at the office and bore (pakao) Gopi for one hour.  These girls are strange.  First she was in a hurry to reach home to watch match and now she had all the time to wander in hot, humid and sultry sun for one hour with her boy friend. Love has strange and novel traits. Yet I had no choice but to abide by her directive.

            Gopi was astonished to see me as nobody expects me to pay visit these days.  I am not allowed to move out of Vaishali as it emotionally disturbs my family. But I did not surprise him when it dawned upon him that I was there for VIN.  He had been suspecting it all along no matter I was not only hiding but always denying it.

            VIN kept her time.  I don't know why but we all spent some time there.  She allowed me to share her lunch.  It was another matter that I took most of it as I was almost starving. It was more enjoyable than any of the lunches I had with my girl friends in five star eateries. At four on Gopi’s insistence we shut the shop and at the Barakhamba Road metro station,took excuse from Gopi.  Then my dream date started.  We walked holding each other’s hands in the verandahs of the famous and romantic Connaught Place in pursuit of a place to sit over some coffee....but not entering many a restaurant onour way.  It reminded me of the days when I used to walk there with my friends in seventies. Those were the days of much less crowd. There used to be more romance in the air. Couples of all ages could be seen in every nook and corner in the verandahs. The central park had a very big fountain. The water wet up 150 feet high. It was heavenly. Earlier, there used to be a coffee house in the centre, where ‘vela log’ and journalists used to debate the then current issues The crowd on the match day was as thin as it used to be then as it was almost deserted and a few people around were rushing towards the nearest TV available. There was a sense of urgency and haste in the movements of the people as if they were in danger of missing an important flight. Now- a- days it is so crowded and the footpaths are such encroached that the joy of walking has vanished.  You will have to wait for a very big event like the death of a big leader or a film star to see so many TV sets on at the same time and almost every one of the 1.2 billion populations glued to them.  My ears and mind were so engrossed in listening to VIN’s beautiful talk, stories and narrations that I did not observe the change the CP had under-gone in the immediate past six months.  I would have to pay another visit to do that.  However, it is inevitable as something was to be but could not be accomplished on that day; we did not get our cup of coffee. But that was an insignificant compensation for the delightful conversation we had. Her musical voice kindled in me the greed for living in me. The negative feelings of quitting this world were getting replaced by the desire and lust for spending more and more time with my angel. Alas! The heavenly time could not last forever. It was to be short like all beautiful things.  We took the Metro scheduled to Dwarka.  I was to get down at Rajouri Garden. I was directed to take a taxi from there as she was sure adamant that it would be too hectic for me to change the metro at Kashmere Gate to proceed to Vaishali.

            At Rajouri, VIN made a fine gesture.  She also alighted off the metro.  She wanted to park me in the taxi before her eyes. We could see taxis parked on the road and I insisted that I would manage to go down by lift and she should go up to the platform to catch her metro so that she could reach home in time to catch the start of India's innings.

            She agreed but then in a jiffy, her arms were around me for a spontaneous, warm, beautiful and pleasant hug. It was the most imaginative, passionate, and emotional hug I got for a long time.

The taxi was running towards my home but my mind was dreaming standstill and focused on the tenderness and fragrance of the hug and the vivid beauty responsible for that. All of a sudden my thoughts clocked back by half a century and reminded me of my grandmother, who when being angry and irritated by my playing pranks on her, used to get hold of me in her arms and despite my pretended resistance did not let me go free for a few moments. I tried hard to hold back my tears and thanked the time that there was nobody to notice it. The driver was preoccupied in negotiating the traffic on the road.

When I reached home it was drizzling. I changed my shirt with the blue India T-Shirt for good luck. In a short time Sehwag was out on Malinga's second ball for a duck and Sachin was packed for 18 after a few balls. But it was a magical day and nothing could go wrong. The world cup was grabbed by India in style and we will have to admire Dhoni's last ball six for years to come.  I pray that it should not take another 28 years to happen as I will be 95 by that time.  Who knows where I will be!

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Ved at Chittorgarh railway station, January 2009

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