 |
Bura Madmaheshwar Trip
Great Shiva was sitting in his abode in Kailash listening to
the requests of suffering mankind that streamed through many
channels. He extended his arm, turned a knob, and tuned in a
particular channel. Yearnings and prayers of all sorts filled the
air of Kailash. Some were asking for food, some for mobile
network, and some for antacids. Then for some time all was
silent, and then all the voices started singing a single prayer:
"Oh Lord, when will the journey end?" Nandi, sitting close by,
was perplexed.
"Why this sudden change in prayer, O Lord?", he
asked.
Shiva smiled, "These are some trekkers who have boarded
the Duranta to New Delhi," he yawned as he turned off the knob,
"and Duranta is running five and half hour late."
Well, we were those poor trekkers, and in case you want to take
the Howrah-Delhi Duranta our simple advice is "Don't".
Let me start the tour diary with some details of Duranta. It is a
train that is covered in colourful wall paper. And it was very
appropriate, because Duranta stood just like a wall outside Delhi
as all other
trains (quite a few Rajhdhani's among them) ran past us. We were
in the AC compartments, and it would be unfair not to describe
the in-train service of Duranta. They serve soup (complete with a
bread stick, paper tray bearing a 1-800 number and an email
address). Not all the passengers, however, enjoy getting a measly cup of
soup when they are dying of hunger. Some of the waiters seemed to
sympathise with these passengers. "What a whim Didi has!", one of
the waiters confided to us, "Does this soup-thing make any
sense?" Few of the hungry passengers, alas, see the need for an
appetiser. The soup is followed by a l...o...n...g wait, which is
an even more effective appetiser. And you will need the extra
appetite, because otherwise you might notice that the sweets are
of vintage quality, and a bit too sour. The chicken may not quite
agree to your bowels. But all these little problems will give way
soon to a single worry: When will the journey end? We cursed
our fate, cursed our team leader for ever buying tickets for
Duranta. Then we all started praying...
While we are busy praying you may take a good look at us. We are
10 in all. A family of two: Tublu-da and Jhilli-di, a family of
four: Tubu-da, Ruma-di, Ruku and the sweet and shy Ria (aged 13).
And then there was the aged couple Rasmohan-da (61) and his
wife Nandita-di, a biology teacher who believed that
everybody around her was her student. She showered incessant
sermons on everyone around, and thoroughly enjoyed this activity, a feeling
that I am afraid was not always shared by others. Dipu-da is our
team leader, very optimistic about everything and very
confident (if not always well-informed). And, oh, I must not
forget about myself. I am busy solving my Rubik cube, and
inwardly wishing my wife were with me. So now you have a good
idea of who we are.
Duranta was supposed to reach New Delhi at 6:00am. Well, now it
is 9:05am, and our train is standing in a field and courteously
letting other trains pass past us. We are regaling ourselves by
observing the outside world through the tinted window of the AC
coach. Nandita-di is bewitched by the variety of flowers and I
am trying my best to associate the flowers with the names that
she is telling me. We noticed some partridges outside. "Wow, such
nice birds!" we all gushed.
"And so tasty too!" added the
biology teacher.
It was past 11:30am when finally Duranta entered New Delhi
station.
A train running 5:30 hours late is nothing to hit the headlines
in India. But it set a chain reaction with effects lasting up to
the start of our journey. Our plan was to take a bus/car from
New Delhi to Hardwar, make a day's sojourn at Hardwar, and then
take a long ride to Uniana, which is the roadhead from which the
real trek would start. Well, thanks to the late arrival we have
now no hope getting the bus. So here we are standing on the
platform guarding our luggage that is lying in a big heap before
us. Tublu-da and Dipu-da are away looking for a car to Hardwar,.
Road condition to Hardwar was apparently bad, and no car readily
agreed to carry us to that holy city. So we finished a lunch at a
roadside restaurant in Delhi. Not all, to be precise. Tubu-da
refused to take lunch due to some reason not quite clear to
me. He had the habit (as I learned later) of getting annoyed with
people, and vented his feelings by skipping lunches! I only wish
that all of us could vent our feelings like this. It saves
trouble, quarrel, food and money! Gandhiji says that it is
healthy too.
We are all waiting on the pavement. Vehicles of all description
are plying before us making the wildest noise. And we are
helplessly watching them from the pavement feeling much like
the Ancient Mariner: "Water water everywhere, nor any drop to drink".
The ever-confident Dipu-da had told us that two cars will arrive
at 12:40pm. Well, we have finished our lunch at 1:05
pm. At 1:45pm a car did arrive. Unfortunately, it did not have
extra carriers for our luggage. So after a brief altercation it
left (with the never-fulfilled promise to return with
carriers). It was at 3:05pm that a car finally arrived. And what
a car! It was a bus of middling size, spacious, and with fans for each
seat. The driver was an expert one, to say the least.
Miles after miles slipped under us, as we let our imagination
roam ahead to the trek of our dream. It was my first trek for two
years. Tublu-da and Jhilli-di had their last trek five years
ago.
We are rushing down Merut road. It reminds me of G T
Road. Narrow, dusty, heavy traffic. At 4:45pm we experienced the
first traffic jam at Gaziabad. But the road condition recovered
soon, and at 5:00pm the road under our wheels is as nice as you
can hope for. And then we came to a rather narrow stretch of the
road, flanking an enormous bridge under construction. This
bridge was supposed to be finished before the Commonwealth Games, but
has been continuing to be the bane of travellers for the last
three years.
From 5:45pm to 6:35pm we have advanced just a few metres. The road
is so narrow that it is difficult to see what is going on
ahead. A muffled din of shouting people and honking horns is
coming
from ahead. All that we can discern is that traffic from a
cross-road is pouring in, and the poor traffic police is at a
perfect loss.
The twilight outside has now darkened. Our engine was switched
off, the driver was out at the front inspecting the site of the
jam. Tublu-da (who had a gift of remaining cool in trying
situations) is singing snatches of Bengali songs in a sweet
voice. Jhilli-di and the biology teacher are showering advices for
the traffic police. They remarked how easily we Bengalis usually
solve such traffic problems by simply breaking the windows of the
cross traffic. They also pointed out the effectiveness of non-veg
eating habits in tackling such problems.
I do not know if the traffic police really benefited from
these sundry pieces of wisdom. But we did manage to pass through the
crossing at 7:10pm. And after a minor jam at 7:30pm, we were
greatly relieved when our driver wheeled into a lavish roadside
eatery called the Mulchand Resorts at 8:10pm. We lightly loaded our stomach,
unloaded our straining bladders and bowels. A clear sky above,
soothing atomosphere...we were ready to forget the day's
trauma. Duranta had done its worst, its effect is now past.
We started from the resort at 8:45pm. The journey was smooth and uneventful. I fell
asleep...
At 11:15pm I was jolted up into consciousness. "We have arrived at
Hardwar", someone said. I opened my eyes. Yes, there
was the familiar staircase of the Chintamani Ashram. I hopped
down. The luggage was being brought down from the top of the
car. And there was our ever faithful, ever smiling
porter-cum-cook-cum-guide Ballu at my side. "Bhul to nehi gaye?" he
said with an endearingly warm smile.
|
