Travelogue
June 13, 2005
Roorkee-Bareilly
Boarded the 4:20 pm train to Bareilly successfully, success attributed to Anjali’s dad who helped me board the train carrying my stone heavy bag. To add to my woe of a horrid external examiner for the electrical practical, heightened by heat and a night out, a very noisy family (mark my words a ‘very’ noisy one) were my travel companions. I haven’t had a morsel of food since morning, only a glass of ice-tea thanks to Adi, so by the time the train reached Bareilly I was almost in tears. I was met at the station by my elder sister, Rachna who appeared so frail as ever that I couldn’t have the heart to ask her to carry my bag. So, there am I , haven’t batted an eyelid since 2 am in the morning, my throat parched for the lack of water, starved and carrying my bag (worth practice for an Olympian weightlifter!). Somehow we made home, and I wanted to howl my heart out! Food awaited me, (I ate it gratefully) but wait there was packing to be done. Slept at 2 am.
Event of the day: Fight with Vasundhara (feels like home), when I insisted that she’s being possessive about her clothes. Well, she has been shopping for a week now, and my packing consisted of ‘carryover’ clothes from Rachna.
June 14, 2005
Bareilly –Lucknow
The afternoon train to Lucknow was a welcome escape from the scolding my mother had been giving out to me in generous measures for not being well equipped with food and water in such a hostile weather. Most of the earlier half of the day was spent in packing and talking to friends. The journey could have been fine, if it was not for the heat. 12:00-4:00, the mid-day sun beat down upon the metal coach. I slept somehow and spent the rest of the day telling Rachna about Zion ’05. We were met at the station by Dadda and reached our Bua’s place where I gratefully laid myself down to sleep a fulfilling diner later.
June 15, 2005
Lucknow- Kanpur
Mission Impossible III: To reinvent me into a better looking, smarter version
Mid Operational Crisis: HHH (Highly Horrible Hair-do) noun. (Def: hair flying off in all directions, ceding the owner the resemblance of one having severed an electric shock). All this despite a shampoo!
Rescue Operation I: To look for a beauty parlor in the scorching sun.
Doesn’t seem such a crisis, does it? But given the fact that the place where we had put up did not boast of a good one the 1 km diameter, it was.
So, before lunch, we went out on foot, braving the wind, sun, dust et all in search of a hair dresser. The search ended in a conspicuous looking house that betrayed no signs of having a talent in hiding. We were escorted by a girl of about my age and an army of neighbourhood kids. Little did I know that my escort would be my saviour (?). I was expecting to be led into a parlor having a few full length mirror, a neatly arranged array of scissors, combs etc. but was taken in by surprise, when I was made to sit in the verandah on a chair, an old dupatta wrapped about me, & my escort proceeded to wet my hair with a MUG ! I got my hair cut with a pair of paper scissors. She didn’t even have holders for hair and used rubber bands as substitutes. Rachna almost rolled off her chair roaring with laughter, & I wanted to sing Mambo No. 5
1, 2,3,4,5
A Chunnu, Munnu by my side
A Chintu, Pintu on my lap,
One snip left and one snap right
A Golu Sholu laughing at me!
The ordeal lasted for about an hour. Look at me! A red dupatta about me, 5-6 fountain pony tails on my head, grumpy expressions too, to match my misfortune. I wanted to wail out loud for Mummy, both for the pain in my hair roots and the humiliation of being laughed at by a 2,4,6,8,10,… year old. Did I have a haircut? I don’t think so, because I couldn’t notice a thing that falls under alteration in my appearance.
Rescue Operation II: Rachna was sympathetic enough to buy me a Brylcreame hair styling gel (phew!)
Lucknow to Kanpur was a smooth ride because of the A.C buses that frequent the route. We were met at the Bus Stop by my Uncle who took us to the J.K temple. The temple made entirely of white marble had majestic looking interiors, and idols in gold and silver. Excuse my musing, but I like it better when our idols have hand painted faces that are more pleasing to the eye and more closer to the heart. Swathed in gold they can be a rich man’s benefactor, not a poor man’s refuge. Anyways, the walls inlaid with marble paintings from the scriptures invoked the curiosity of the passers by. We reached just in time for the aarti. The resonant sounds of the gong revert berated about the shikhara merging with the aarti and the clanging of several large bells lending a divine serenity to the place.
On a lighter note Kanpur certainly has some uniquely named eating points 0512- the eating joint ( for gumbos 0512 is Kanpur’s STD code) , Little Chef, Aagman, Angithi ,Wengers etc. though we didn’t stop at any, but the interiors looked lip-smackingly inviting!
We visited the hotel where uncle has been putting up for a year now. Hotel orient, an ancient edifice opposite Heer Talkies (Vasundhara raved about how wonderful it could have been if we had tickets for the 9-12 show, for Bunty Aur Bubbly was being screened that week), had exteriors in pale cream. Domes and pillars, its narrow corridors with vines and creepers and typical red stone flooring transported you back to the years of the Raj.
Uncle’s room had no resemblance to a bachelor’s den for the utter lack of ‘untidiness’. The wall hangings though impressive had a loudly proclaimed their origin and owner, step forward readers meet my Uncle’s Room mate Debjeet Chakrovarty , a Medical representative with Glaxo he is quite popular with us , thanks to his pharmaceutical company gifts. He looked just as he sounded over the phone young, immaculate, polite and ‘Beongaali’.
A delightful diner could not raise my travel worn spirits and I had an uninterrupted sleep on my Uncle’s bed, in the auto rickshaw, on the station bench, in the waiting room, in the train till 1:20 pm the next afternoon.
June 16, 2005
(Fall) omenon and Old Mac’ Donald
When I awoke the next afternoon, it took some time for me to recollect exactly where I was. After some failed attempts at book reading (a rather boring Enid Blyton mystery that refused to take off) I rolled off to sleep again after lunch on the top berth (with the soft rocking of the train, which is, but natural). At around tea time my fellow passengers requested me to come down lest I develop a nasty backache. I obliged, and on my way down, before I could place my foot firmly on the ladder, I slipped. I lost balance, came under the influence of the phenomenon called gravity and made my way down in a ‘spider (wo) man’ like fashion. Fellow travelers taken aback by the sudden display of gymnastic techniques could not help laughing. Embarrassed, I joined them too. But you’ll have to agree, it is definitely the fastest way down. Having cracked enough jokes in the atmosphere suddenly lightened by my fall, I had dinner and went back to sleep. I was woken up at 2 am and asked to dress up; we were to get off at Kalyan, to wait for another train to Pune. At 4 am, a masala tea later I and Vasundhara were fresh enough for a tête-à-tête. We pondered over the remark Vasundhara had carried over her heart from the train, which seared her heart with boiling fury and pricked like a thorn in flesh that…that…that she looked the eldest of us three (ha ha ha). Well, we weighed ourselves and the cardboard tickets were some consolation to her begrieved soul, Rachna was 42 Kg, I stood at 45.5 Kg and Vasundhara led with 46 Kg! Though we teased her enough about the fortune lines on her card which foresaw a bright matrimonial and romantic alliance (possibly a film star, she sighed. After all we are headed to Bollywood).
We got a train to Shivaji terminal, now there was just a li’l problem, our A C tickets valid up to Pune could get us an entry in the train but no seat. So four of us squeezed together in one berth, with the luggage too! Opposite to us slept an Old Mac’ Donald, one of the grumpiest fellows I’ve ever seen who wanted the passage clear of any luggage except his own. We tried talking in subdued cautious whispers intercepted by the sound of Old MacDonald’s irate coughing.
The hills of Lonavala and Khandala were a pleasant sight, their deep ravines, sketching an unfamiliar but vivacious landscape. As the train chugged along, through the dark tunnels suddenly bursting into light, the trees looking freshly washed, shrinking back like curious children, first watching for the approach of the train, putting in their boughs and branches about the tunnel and then shying away, scared by the colossal blue giant.
The wet landscape bathed in the morning dew, the tranquility of the gentle hum of the train, and the (finally) sleeping Mac’ Donald, peace at last! We’d be in Pune soon.
June 17, 2005
Kachra Tako Naye & INOX
We had an address of the company guest house where we were supposed to put up. I was mightily delighted by the location of the place; it was SURROUNDED by eateries, bakeries, ice-cream shops and trees. A refreshing bath later, I put on my best suit, borrowed my sister’s stone earring and bracelet; all decked up and ready to go. Vasundhara remarked on how stupid I looked with a suit on and so much of oil in my head (it refused stubbornly to go away, even after 3 washes!) We asked an auto rickshaw wallah if Pune offered some sight seeing opportunities. He guided us to Katraj, “some garden of sorts”. With dreams of an Indian equivalent of Amsterdam, we paid the entry fee upon reaching Katraj, mere Rs 3/- per adult. Bold lettering every where proclaimed in Marathi ‘Kachra Tako Naye’ (Do not Litter). Impressed with the park authorities’ remarkable sense of hygiene, we resolutely looked out for a garden if there was any. But Hang On! This was no garden; it was some kind of a rather ill equipped Zoo. All of a sudden my borrowed stone jewellery and matching suit seemed very out of place. “Well, not really, a lot of village crowd with bright umbrellas and fancy shades are giving you company,” observed Vasundhara. Rachna banged her head in an effort to catch a glimpse of a rather bored White Bengal tiger, a photo shy porcupine refused to meet us, a large group of spotted deers, alarmed at our presence and chose to snort at us. So, disgruntled and hungry we came back to the guest house.
By the evening we were determined to make our Pune trip remarkable, so it was decided to submit to the multiplex magic. We booked tickets and reached INOX in time. After looking around for a while I wanted to have an ice cream (out of my own pocket money too!). Delighted by the presence of Baskin n’ Robinson, I ordered a Choc-Vanilla with lots of fresh cream and generous helping of chocolate sauce, Vasundhara as usual followed suite. Only, I wasn’t prepared for the bill, a staggering 180/-.Don’t blame me of parsimony, being my first multiplex experience, I was caught a bit off guard (I still keep the paper napkin, in the fond memory of my pocket money, that ceased to be!)
And now a few lines about the movie too. Parineeta, a Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s creation had to have an excellent sound track, mesmerizing cinematography, a beautiful promising actress and a messed up climax. OK! I understand the garble about sticking to the Sharatchand Classic, but when Saif as Shekhar falls a foot thick wall using his shoe, a flower vase, an iron rod, a dowel and a rather heavy bird bath in quick succession, you pity him for not using the gate instead!
I split my sides with laughter where the director must have expected the audience to cry.
June 18, 2005
Atur Centre, Hong Kong Galli, and Pidla Pidlaya Majja!!
Next morning there was work to do. Rachna had to be dropped of at Hinjwadi, the InfoTech City, registering the presence of all IT bigwigs. IT city is an architect’s delight; imagination let wild, powerful buildings have risen up in the barren landscape awe-inspiring and unique in design. Symbiosis was pretty organized and quick, registration and room allotment took less that half an hour. We made a quick tour of the hostel which had a lift too, unlike ours. But, I daresay our cafeteria is better in look n’ variety. We returned to the guest house for rest in the afternoon.
By evening we went out in search of Atur Centre, somewhere near Pune University where Rachna would board her bus to Symbiosis, the next morning. The search was futile; no one knew of the place and gave us directions leading to dead ends. We kept walking and finally gave it off.
We had heard of Deccan- a fine shopping place it is, so we boarded a local bus to Deccan .What struck me as really indigenous was the system of Rope n’ Bell. Instead of shouting out to the driver, or beating at the bus door, the conductor would give a gentle tug to the rope running around the entire length of the Bus, connected to a bell near the driver.
“One must admire simple things in life”, I confessed to Vasundhara who had caught me admiring the very obvious arrangement, as she called it.
At Deccan we shopped for books, I got some famous titles: The Alchemist, The Monk who sold his Ferrari, King of the Torts, God of Small Things, Complete works of Mark Twain, The Diary of Anne Frank, To kill a mocking bird, Five point someone and Vasundhara got herself Harry Potter and the Order Of Phoenix (She’ll remain a J.K Rowling fan for life!)
Rachna asked a roughish looking girl at the bus stop, where she could have her watch mended and shop for tit-bits. She directed us to Hong-Kong Galli, oh! The place would pass your notice first, but once you’ve entered it eats you up, tempting you by its endless charms and drowning you in its chaos of buying and bargaining. A swarm of tiny shops jostling for space selling jewellery, beaded bohemian stuff, anklets, rings, necklaces, trinkets, bracelets, pendents, armlets, watches, scarves, belts, bags , shoes, chappals, musty old books, latest titles, house décor, cosmetics, perfumes and what not. A street straight out of the Harry potter Movie, ‘Diagon Alley’, Vasundhara reminds me. I would have loved to shop for the whole day there but we had to hurry.
We had a sumptuous diner, Seekh Kebab, Pepper Chicken, Doldrum Sticks, Malai Kofta at Dilli Durbar, or Chutney’s or Grub Corner, I don’t remember which one, but the diner was good, yes! That’s the point, comrades.
Around bedtime, Rachna asked me to pass her a glass of water. Tired, as I was, I paid no heed to Vasundhara’s “Rinse the glass first” warning, added some water to a half filled glass and passed it to Rachna. No sooner had she taken a mouthful, she started running about the room, with that water in her mouth, eager to spit it out! She banged at the bathroom door urgently but it was occupied. Several agonizing minutes later, it dawned on me that I had only diluted Uncle’s Vodka and passed it on!
Pune & the Pune Chic
Now let’s spare a thought about Pune and its people. Pune, the country’s educational capital has an appeasing climate, moderate traffic and well kept ambiances. But the city unlike Hyderabad or Mumbai has not valued its colonial past but chosen to stamp over it, raze it to ground and paint it in gaudy colours, erecting multiplexed over its remnants, taking it as a celebration of its Marathi pride. Pune is strewn with garment stores, multiplexes, food chains and other indulgences of the population boasting of the country’s highest per capita income. The city shows the strains of harboring a rather young population that works on a 12 hr shift in leading BPOs and wants a quite time off for itself , the costlier it is the better, because this population finds saving, boring.
To interest the reader now, I present before you the Pune chic. The Pune chic comes in all sizes and colours, but mostly tall, toned and fair. She may have her hair premed, teased, or coloured but her light ringlets will play all about her, at least around this season of the year. She may be clad in a tube top, or a tank top, even a jacket in June, or she may wear a pretty off shoulder or a sweet summertime kurti & essentially a low rise or quarter pants. Multiplexes and Designer labels offer her clothes straight out of the movie she’s been to. So, the Pune chic struts the street in Rani Mukherjee’s silk and brocade tops out of Bunty Aur Bubbly. Jan path Jholas have travelled a long way too and Bohemian accessories are a big hit off-ramp. And, the look of her…recall Madhuri, Meenakshi, Bhagyashree…’Marathi Ahe’, pronounced cheekbones, light playful and expressive eyes, pearly white teeth and a bewitching smile, that’s the Pune beauty for you. Caution: Don’t stare, a jaundiced bombshell (she had coloured her hair yellow), at INOX gave me “Caught you staring at me & I detest it” look I’ll remember for life.
June 19, 2005
Of Mountains and Burgers
Next morning we packed and left for Mumbai taking Rachna in trail for the yet undiscovered Atur centre could wait for some time for her to board a bus. We dropped Rachna at her hostel least wanting to leave her there. Moist eyed she waved us a goodbye. Let’s hark back here; we all part at some juncture, don’t we? As siblings we are least bothered about it, we fight, as if it were a duty, fling harsh insults at each other. At the core of our hearts we know we are irresistibly fond of each other, but never care to show it, & someday we realize it’s too late. These few days the three of us spent together came as a real play of chance. One of these days Vasundhara will too find a career, then we’ll see less of each other, and the chances of three of us staying together again, are very very marginal. But, despite that we fight, argue, and are forever at each others throat. And the harder the fight, sweeter is the reconciliation and sometimes so prompt that the elders have longed ceased to bother. If only Rachna was not so perfect and Vasundhara not so pampered, I’d have loved them too!
Pune to Mumbai highway was a spectacular journey. The azure sky smiled behind the dark clouds that concealed her, and furious as they were, having travelled with that burden of vapor all about, they let it out. The rain came in gentle sprays and then getting steadier, then it cleared dramatically till only a grey mist hung over the mountain tops.
Through the rain and clouds we saw the intricate work of nature. Tiers on tiers of variegated plant life wrapped the mountains, like an old man’s muffler. Worn down with time these mountains have silently witnessed man at work, determinedly making his way, cutting through the chest of the mountain and running roads through it. At one turn, I thought I saw the face of an old man in the mountain, his wrinkled forehead boldly thrust up in the anticipation of something great, his lips pursed together and gaze drawn inwards in a meditative mood. The vegetation about him made up the locks of his hair and a flowing beard, telling that he had come of age. The austerity inspired me to draw a comparison and I turned to Vasundhara for help. “How do the mountains look to you?” She sighed, looked out of the window and said soberly, “Like a burger, flat topped, with layers of cabbage filling around a juicy centre!” Apparently, the hunger had got to her head.
Chuk chuk chak chak Dadar se Church Gate tak!
Few hours later we were in Mumbai, dumped in Dadar by the taxi, our mission : to find a decent accommodation, after shuttling from one hotel to another, and witnessing the great business of procuring up small suffocating pigeonholes they call A.C rooms and hoodwinking the poor tourist of dear money. We settled for ‘Ishwar Guest house’, which was older and less cramped than the rest. Having dumped our luggage we proceeded to look around Mumbai. “Look how a true Mumbaikar battles it out!” said Chacha. So, we took a local train like a true Mumbaikar, ate what a Mumbaikar eats, went to a Mumbaikar’s favourite beaches, and shopped where a Mumbaikar shops.
The local trains are the cheapest and fastest moving transport in Mumbai. It runs dividing the city into two halves, the East and the West. The mass of humanity is overwhelming; you get pushed out like an insignificant weed in the swarm of people, the crowd bears you in, and it bears you out. Stand at the doorway when your destination is near, that’s all, you’ll be pushed in and duly pushed out! We visited Juhu Beach first; I saw the sea for the first time and rushed out to meet it, waves, tides and all. But it was muddier than I had expected, my picture of the deep blue sea was torn to shreds. Vasundhara didn’t venture beyond ankle deep water, but I was all wet and sandy up to the waist! Quiet an achievement when she was apprehensive lest someone pushes me deeper inside and I drown.
Had pani-puri, Nariyal pani, Bhel puri, Pav Bhaji, Dahi-Katchori, Vada-pav etc. I wanted to have Kalakhatta too, but Chacha scared me with gory details how the ice blocks could come straight from the ‘Morgues’. To think of it!!
To make up good the loss anyway, I decided to have a Mixed-falooda ice cream. The boy at the counter proceeded to add Faluda, Sharbat, milk, ice, ice-cream, and among other things a grey sea weed (which Vasundhara was confirmed must be Sabudana gone rotten!), nevertheless it was tasty.
Next we got off at Marine Lines and went to Chowpatty, it had rained in Mumbai that day and the sea was wild with rage, waves crashing madly against the huge stone erections at the beach.
‘Onward, Onward, move the pilgrim march!’
We got off at Church gate, and held our breath just as we came out in the open; every where around us the colonial past spoke in whispers, Old Mumbai is a living museum of the British India. Be it the ageless stone buildings in sculpted in English Gothic style of architecture, or the stone figure of long forgotten Roman Goddesses, Nationalists, and Noted Civilians at every crossing. Fresh washed palms swayed happily over quite scenery, which looked the same a hundred years ago. In the gathering dark we saw the Gateway of India, the writing on the edifice said,
“Erected to Commerate the visit of her majesty Queen Mary and King George V to India in 1911”.
As the colossal structure bathed in yellow gleam, a half-moon rose behind it completing the regal picture. There are statues of Chattrapati Shivaji and Vivekananda in the vicinity that arouse tourist curiosity. The oldest of Taj group of hotels opposite the Gateway is majestically high and flaunts taste and style. We shopped for books, and had a ‘bhutta’ each, before declaring an end to the day’s wanderings.
June 20, 2005
Some Delightful bargains and Hospitable Rajdhani
We checked out of the guest house at noon. I regretted not having picked up a few juicy ‘jamuns’ for myself from the Guest house premises, a flourishing tree that was. Called up Mitali M’am to wish her a happy Birthday, she had some trouble in identifying me, though. We paid a visit to Swami Narayan temple, to confess, I was startled by the presence of unfamiliar idols in the temple, because here in North we seldom worship the prophets of the sect, however great they may be! But, yeh hai Mumbai meri Jaan! I had read somewhere that Amitabh Bachhan’s fans have erected a temple for him; it was now that struck me as being too bizarre.
We shopped at Church gate for some clothes and like, I bought a patchwork kurti and Vasundhara bought a plain one. Shopping done, we hurriedly made it back for we had our train at 5:42 pm and were keen on not missing it. After lunch we took a taxi to Mumbai Central Station, and waited in possibly the largest waiting hall I claim to have seen, with this ends my south-sojourn of Pune and Mumbai. Mumbai was seen hurriedly but Pune we explored at our leisure, the weather gods were propitious enough too. Altogether, an enjoyable trip but there is no place like home. As I write this, trying to make myself a coffee, with the kit Rajdhani Caterers have provided us, I scald my hand with hot water, so its time Mummy takes care of all this business. No more, a wanderer I wanna be!!Mummaaaaaaaaaaaaaah….
June 13, 2005
Roorkee-Bareilly
Boarded the 4:20 pm train to Bareilly successfully, success attributed to Anjali’s dad who helped me board the train carrying my stone heavy bag. To add to my woe of a horrid external examiner for the electrical practical, heightened by heat and a night out, a very noisy family (mark my words a ‘very’ noisy one) were my travel companions. I haven’t had a morsel of food since morning, only a glass of ice-tea thanks to Adi, so by the time the train reached Bareilly I was almost in tears. I was met at the station by my elder sister, Rachna who appeared so frail as ever that I couldn’t have the heart to ask her to carry my bag. So, there am I , haven’t batted an eyelid since 2 am in the morning, my throat parched for the lack of water, starved and carrying my bag (worth practice for an Olympian weightlifter!). Somehow we made home, and I wanted to howl my heart out! Food awaited me, (I ate it gratefully) but wait there was packing to be done. Slept at 2 am.
Event of the day: Fight with Vasundhara (feels like home), when I insisted that she’s being possessive about her clothes. Well, she has been shopping for a week now, and my packing consisted of ‘carryover’ clothes from Rachna.
June 14, 2005
Bareilly –Lucknow
The afternoon train to Lucknow was a welcome escape from the scolding my mother had been giving out to me in generous measures for not being well equipped with food and water in such a hostile weather. Most of the earlier half of the day was spent in packing and talking to friends. The journey could have been fine, if it was not for the heat. 12:00-4:00, the mid-day sun beat down upon the metal coach. I slept somehow and spent the rest of the day telling Rachna about Zion ’05. We were met at the station by Dadda and reached our Bua’s place where I gratefully laid myself down to sleep a fulfilling diner later.
June 15, 2005
Lucknow- Kanpur
Mission Impossible III: To reinvent me into a better looking, smarter version
Mid Operational Crisis: HHH (Highly Horrible Hair-do) noun. (Def: hair flying off in all directions, ceding the owner the resemblance of one having severed an electric shock). All this despite a shampoo!
Rescue Operation I: To look for a beauty parlor in the scorching sun.
Doesn’t seem such a crisis, does it? But given the fact that the place where we had put up did not boast of a good one the 1 km diameter, it was.
So, before lunch, we went out on foot, braving the wind, sun, dust et all in search of a hair dresser. The search ended in a conspicuous looking house that betrayed no signs of having a talent in hiding. We were escorted by a girl of about my age and an army of neighbourhood kids. Little did I know that my escort would be my saviour (?). I was expecting to be led into a parlor having a few full length mirror, a neatly arranged array of scissors, combs etc. but was taken in by surprise, when I was made to sit in the verandah on a chair, an old dupatta wrapped about me, & my escort proceeded to wet my hair with a MUG ! I got my hair cut with a pair of paper scissors. She didn’t even have holders for hair and used rubber bands as substitutes. Rachna almost rolled off her chair roaring with laughter, & I wanted to sing Mambo No. 5
1, 2,3,4,5
A Chunnu, Munnu by my side
A Chintu, Pintu on my lap,
One snip left and one snap right
A Golu Sholu laughing at me!
The ordeal lasted for about an hour. Look at me! A red dupatta about me, 5-6 fountain pony tails on my head, grumpy expressions too, to match my misfortune. I wanted to wail out loud for Mummy, both for the pain in my hair roots and the humiliation of being laughed at by a 2,4,6,8,10,… year old. Did I have a haircut? I don’t think so, because I couldn’t notice a thing that falls under alteration in my appearance.
Rescue Operation II: Rachna was sympathetic enough to buy me a Brylcreame hair styling gel (phew!)
Lucknow to Kanpur was a smooth ride because of the A.C buses that frequent the route. We were met at the Bus Stop by my Uncle who took us to the J.K temple. The temple made entirely of white marble had majestic looking interiors, and idols in gold and silver. Excuse my musing, but I like it better when our idols have hand painted faces that are more pleasing to the eye and more closer to the heart. Swathed in gold they can be a rich man’s benefactor, not a poor man’s refuge. Anyways, the walls inlaid with marble paintings from the scriptures invoked the curiosity of the passers by. We reached just in time for the aarti. The resonant sounds of the gong revert berated about the shikhara merging with the aarti and the clanging of several large bells lending a divine serenity to the place.
On a lighter note Kanpur certainly has some uniquely named eating points 0512- the eating joint ( for gumbos 0512 is Kanpur’s STD code) , Little Chef, Aagman, Angithi ,Wengers etc. though we didn’t stop at any, but the interiors looked lip-smackingly inviting!
We visited the hotel where uncle has been putting up for a year now. Hotel orient, an ancient edifice opposite Heer Talkies (Vasundhara raved about how wonderful it could have been if we had tickets for the 9-12 show, for Bunty Aur Bubbly was being screened that week), had exteriors in pale cream. Domes and pillars, its narrow corridors with vines and creepers and typical red stone flooring transported you back to the years of the Raj.
Uncle’s room had no resemblance to a bachelor’s den for the utter lack of ‘untidiness’. The wall hangings though impressive had a loudly proclaimed their origin and owner, step forward readers meet my Uncle’s Room mate Debjeet Chakrovarty , a Medical representative with Glaxo he is quite popular with us , thanks to his pharmaceutical company gifts. He looked just as he sounded over the phone young, immaculate, polite and ‘Beongaali’.
A delightful diner could not raise my travel worn spirits and I had an uninterrupted sleep on my Uncle’s bed, in the auto rickshaw, on the station bench, in the waiting room, in the train till 1:20 pm the next afternoon.
June 16, 2005
(Fall) omenon and Old Mac’ Donald
When I awoke the next afternoon, it took some time for me to recollect exactly where I was. After some failed attempts at book reading (a rather boring Enid Blyton mystery that refused to take off) I rolled off to sleep again after lunch on the top berth (with the soft rocking of the train, which is, but natural). At around tea time my fellow passengers requested me to come down lest I develop a nasty backache. I obliged, and on my way down, before I could place my foot firmly on the ladder, I slipped. I lost balance, came under the influence of the phenomenon called gravity and made my way down in a ‘spider (wo) man’ like fashion. Fellow travelers taken aback by the sudden display of gymnastic techniques could not help laughing. Embarrassed, I joined them too. But you’ll have to agree, it is definitely the fastest way down. Having cracked enough jokes in the atmosphere suddenly lightened by my fall, I had dinner and went back to sleep. I was woken up at 2 am and asked to dress up; we were to get off at Kalyan, to wait for another train to Pune. At 4 am, a masala tea later I and Vasundhara were fresh enough for a tête-à-tête. We pondered over the remark Vasundhara had carried over her heart from the train, which seared her heart with boiling fury and pricked like a thorn in flesh that…that…that she looked the eldest of us three (ha ha ha). Well, we weighed ourselves and the cardboard tickets were some consolation to her begrieved soul, Rachna was 42 Kg, I stood at 45.5 Kg and Vasundhara led with 46 Kg! Though we teased her enough about the fortune lines on her card which foresaw a bright matrimonial and romantic alliance (possibly a film star, she sighed. After all we are headed to Bollywood).
We got a train to Shivaji terminal, now there was just a li’l problem, our A C tickets valid up to Pune could get us an entry in the train but no seat. So four of us squeezed together in one berth, with the luggage too! Opposite to us slept an Old Mac’ Donald, one of the grumpiest fellows I’ve ever seen who wanted the passage clear of any luggage except his own. We tried talking in subdued cautious whispers intercepted by the sound of Old MacDonald’s irate coughing.
The hills of Lonavala and Khandala were a pleasant sight, their deep ravines, sketching an unfamiliar but vivacious landscape. As the train chugged along, through the dark tunnels suddenly bursting into light, the trees looking freshly washed, shrinking back like curious children, first watching for the approach of the train, putting in their boughs and branches about the tunnel and then shying away, scared by the colossal blue giant.
The wet landscape bathed in the morning dew, the tranquility of the gentle hum of the train, and the (finally) sleeping Mac’ Donald, peace at last! We’d be in Pune soon.
June 17, 2005
Kachra Tako Naye & INOX
We had an address of the company guest house where we were supposed to put up. I was mightily delighted by the location of the place; it was SURROUNDED by eateries, bakeries, ice-cream shops and trees. A refreshing bath later, I put on my best suit, borrowed my sister’s stone earring and bracelet; all decked up and ready to go. Vasundhara remarked on how stupid I looked with a suit on and so much of oil in my head (it refused stubbornly to go away, even after 3 washes!) We asked an auto rickshaw wallah if Pune offered some sight seeing opportunities. He guided us to Katraj, “some garden of sorts”. With dreams of an Indian equivalent of Amsterdam, we paid the entry fee upon reaching Katraj, mere Rs 3/- per adult. Bold lettering every where proclaimed in Marathi ‘Kachra Tako Naye’ (Do not Litter). Impressed with the park authorities’ remarkable sense of hygiene, we resolutely looked out for a garden if there was any. But Hang On! This was no garden; it was some kind of a rather ill equipped Zoo. All of a sudden my borrowed stone jewellery and matching suit seemed very out of place. “Well, not really, a lot of village crowd with bright umbrellas and fancy shades are giving you company,” observed Vasundhara. Rachna banged her head in an effort to catch a glimpse of a rather bored White Bengal tiger, a photo shy porcupine refused to meet us, a large group of spotted deers, alarmed at our presence and chose to snort at us. So, disgruntled and hungry we came back to the guest house.
By the evening we were determined to make our Pune trip remarkable, so it was decided to submit to the multiplex magic. We booked tickets and reached INOX in time. After looking around for a while I wanted to have an ice cream (out of my own pocket money too!). Delighted by the presence of Baskin n’ Robinson, I ordered a Choc-Vanilla with lots of fresh cream and generous helping of chocolate sauce, Vasundhara as usual followed suite. Only, I wasn’t prepared for the bill, a staggering 180/-.Don’t blame me of parsimony, being my first multiplex experience, I was caught a bit off guard (I still keep the paper napkin, in the fond memory of my pocket money, that ceased to be!)
And now a few lines about the movie too. Parineeta, a Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s creation had to have an excellent sound track, mesmerizing cinematography, a beautiful promising actress and a messed up climax. OK! I understand the garble about sticking to the Sharatchand Classic, but when Saif as Shekhar falls a foot thick wall using his shoe, a flower vase, an iron rod, a dowel and a rather heavy bird bath in quick succession, you pity him for not using the gate instead!
I split my sides with laughter where the director must have expected the audience to cry.
June 18, 2005
Atur Centre, Hong Kong Galli, and Pidla Pidlaya Majja!!
Next morning there was work to do. Rachna had to be dropped of at Hinjwadi, the InfoTech City, registering the presence of all IT bigwigs. IT city is an architect’s delight; imagination let wild, powerful buildings have risen up in the barren landscape awe-inspiring and unique in design. Symbiosis was pretty organized and quick, registration and room allotment took less that half an hour. We made a quick tour of the hostel which had a lift too, unlike ours. But, I daresay our cafeteria is better in look n’ variety. We returned to the guest house for rest in the afternoon.
By evening we went out in search of Atur Centre, somewhere near Pune University where Rachna would board her bus to Symbiosis, the next morning. The search was futile; no one knew of the place and gave us directions leading to dead ends. We kept walking and finally gave it off.
We had heard of Deccan- a fine shopping place it is, so we boarded a local bus to Deccan .What struck me as really indigenous was the system of Rope n’ Bell. Instead of shouting out to the driver, or beating at the bus door, the conductor would give a gentle tug to the rope running around the entire length of the Bus, connected to a bell near the driver.
“One must admire simple things in life”, I confessed to Vasundhara who had caught me admiring the very obvious arrangement, as she called it.
At Deccan we shopped for books, I got some famous titles: The Alchemist, The Monk who sold his Ferrari, King of the Torts, God of Small Things, Complete works of Mark Twain, The Diary of Anne Frank, To kill a mocking bird, Five point someone and Vasundhara got herself Harry Potter and the Order Of Phoenix (She’ll remain a J.K Rowling fan for life!)
Rachna asked a roughish looking girl at the bus stop, where she could have her watch mended and shop for tit-bits. She directed us to Hong-Kong Galli, oh! The place would pass your notice first, but once you’ve entered it eats you up, tempting you by its endless charms and drowning you in its chaos of buying and bargaining. A swarm of tiny shops jostling for space selling jewellery, beaded bohemian stuff, anklets, rings, necklaces, trinkets, bracelets, pendents, armlets, watches, scarves, belts, bags , shoes, chappals, musty old books, latest titles, house décor, cosmetics, perfumes and what not. A street straight out of the Harry potter Movie, ‘Diagon Alley’, Vasundhara reminds me. I would have loved to shop for the whole day there but we had to hurry.
We had a sumptuous diner, Seekh Kebab, Pepper Chicken, Doldrum Sticks, Malai Kofta at Dilli Durbar, or Chutney’s or Grub Corner, I don’t remember which one, but the diner was good, yes! That’s the point, comrades.
Around bedtime, Rachna asked me to pass her a glass of water. Tired, as I was, I paid no heed to Vasundhara’s “Rinse the glass first” warning, added some water to a half filled glass and passed it to Rachna. No sooner had she taken a mouthful, she started running about the room, with that water in her mouth, eager to spit it out! She banged at the bathroom door urgently but it was occupied. Several agonizing minutes later, it dawned on me that I had only diluted Uncle’s Vodka and passed it on!
Pune & the Pune Chic
Now let’s spare a thought about Pune and its people. Pune, the country’s educational capital has an appeasing climate, moderate traffic and well kept ambiances. But the city unlike Hyderabad or Mumbai has not valued its colonial past but chosen to stamp over it, raze it to ground and paint it in gaudy colours, erecting multiplexed over its remnants, taking it as a celebration of its Marathi pride. Pune is strewn with garment stores, multiplexes, food chains and other indulgences of the population boasting of the country’s highest per capita income. The city shows the strains of harboring a rather young population that works on a 12 hr shift in leading BPOs and wants a quite time off for itself , the costlier it is the better, because this population finds saving, boring.
To interest the reader now, I present before you the Pune chic. The Pune chic comes in all sizes and colours, but mostly tall, toned and fair. She may have her hair premed, teased, or coloured but her light ringlets will play all about her, at least around this season of the year. She may be clad in a tube top, or a tank top, even a jacket in June, or she may wear a pretty off shoulder or a sweet summertime kurti & essentially a low rise or quarter pants. Multiplexes and Designer labels offer her clothes straight out of the movie she’s been to. So, the Pune chic struts the street in Rani Mukherjee’s silk and brocade tops out of Bunty Aur Bubbly. Jan path Jholas have travelled a long way too and Bohemian accessories are a big hit off-ramp. And, the look of her…recall Madhuri, Meenakshi, Bhagyashree…’Marathi Ahe’, pronounced cheekbones, light playful and expressive eyes, pearly white teeth and a bewitching smile, that’s the Pune beauty for you. Caution: Don’t stare, a jaundiced bombshell (she had coloured her hair yellow), at INOX gave me “Caught you staring at me & I detest it” look I’ll remember for life.
June 19, 2005
Of Mountains and Burgers
Next morning we packed and left for Mumbai taking Rachna in trail for the yet undiscovered Atur centre could wait for some time for her to board a bus. We dropped Rachna at her hostel least wanting to leave her there. Moist eyed she waved us a goodbye. Let’s hark back here; we all part at some juncture, don’t we? As siblings we are least bothered about it, we fight, as if it were a duty, fling harsh insults at each other. At the core of our hearts we know we are irresistibly fond of each other, but never care to show it, & someday we realize it’s too late. These few days the three of us spent together came as a real play of chance. One of these days Vasundhara will too find a career, then we’ll see less of each other, and the chances of three of us staying together again, are very very marginal. But, despite that we fight, argue, and are forever at each others throat. And the harder the fight, sweeter is the reconciliation and sometimes so prompt that the elders have longed ceased to bother. If only Rachna was not so perfect and Vasundhara not so pampered, I’d have loved them too!
Pune to Mumbai highway was a spectacular journey. The azure sky smiled behind the dark clouds that concealed her, and furious as they were, having travelled with that burden of vapor all about, they let it out. The rain came in gentle sprays and then getting steadier, then it cleared dramatically till only a grey mist hung over the mountain tops.
Through the rain and clouds we saw the intricate work of nature. Tiers on tiers of variegated plant life wrapped the mountains, like an old man’s muffler. Worn down with time these mountains have silently witnessed man at work, determinedly making his way, cutting through the chest of the mountain and running roads through it. At one turn, I thought I saw the face of an old man in the mountain, his wrinkled forehead boldly thrust up in the anticipation of something great, his lips pursed together and gaze drawn inwards in a meditative mood. The vegetation about him made up the locks of his hair and a flowing beard, telling that he had come of age. The austerity inspired me to draw a comparison and I turned to Vasundhara for help. “How do the mountains look to you?” She sighed, looked out of the window and said soberly, “Like a burger, flat topped, with layers of cabbage filling around a juicy centre!” Apparently, the hunger had got to her head.
Chuk chuk chak chak Dadar se Church Gate tak!
Few hours later we were in Mumbai, dumped in Dadar by the taxi, our mission : to find a decent accommodation, after shuttling from one hotel to another, and witnessing the great business of procuring up small suffocating pigeonholes they call A.C rooms and hoodwinking the poor tourist of dear money. We settled for ‘Ishwar Guest house’, which was older and less cramped than the rest. Having dumped our luggage we proceeded to look around Mumbai. “Look how a true Mumbaikar battles it out!” said Chacha. So, we took a local train like a true Mumbaikar, ate what a Mumbaikar eats, went to a Mumbaikar’s favourite beaches, and shopped where a Mumbaikar shops.
The local trains are the cheapest and fastest moving transport in Mumbai. It runs dividing the city into two halves, the East and the West. The mass of humanity is overwhelming; you get pushed out like an insignificant weed in the swarm of people, the crowd bears you in, and it bears you out. Stand at the doorway when your destination is near, that’s all, you’ll be pushed in and duly pushed out! We visited Juhu Beach first; I saw the sea for the first time and rushed out to meet it, waves, tides and all. But it was muddier than I had expected, my picture of the deep blue sea was torn to shreds. Vasundhara didn’t venture beyond ankle deep water, but I was all wet and sandy up to the waist! Quiet an achievement when she was apprehensive lest someone pushes me deeper inside and I drown.
Had pani-puri, Nariyal pani, Bhel puri, Pav Bhaji, Dahi-Katchori, Vada-pav etc. I wanted to have Kalakhatta too, but Chacha scared me with gory details how the ice blocks could come straight from the ‘Morgues’. To think of it!!
To make up good the loss anyway, I decided to have a Mixed-falooda ice cream. The boy at the counter proceeded to add Faluda, Sharbat, milk, ice, ice-cream, and among other things a grey sea weed (which Vasundhara was confirmed must be Sabudana gone rotten!), nevertheless it was tasty.
Next we got off at Marine Lines and went to Chowpatty, it had rained in Mumbai that day and the sea was wild with rage, waves crashing madly against the huge stone erections at the beach.
‘Onward, Onward, move the pilgrim march!’
We got off at Church gate, and held our breath just as we came out in the open; every where around us the colonial past spoke in whispers, Old Mumbai is a living museum of the British India. Be it the ageless stone buildings in sculpted in English Gothic style of architecture, or the stone figure of long forgotten Roman Goddesses, Nationalists, and Noted Civilians at every crossing. Fresh washed palms swayed happily over quite scenery, which looked the same a hundred years ago. In the gathering dark we saw the Gateway of India, the writing on the edifice said,
“Erected to Commerate the visit of her majesty Queen Mary and King George V to India in 1911”.
As the colossal structure bathed in yellow gleam, a half-moon rose behind it completing the regal picture. There are statues of Chattrapati Shivaji and Vivekananda in the vicinity that arouse tourist curiosity. The oldest of Taj group of hotels opposite the Gateway is majestically high and flaunts taste and style. We shopped for books, and had a ‘bhutta’ each, before declaring an end to the day’s wanderings.
June 20, 2005
Some Delightful bargains and Hospitable Rajdhani
We checked out of the guest house at noon. I regretted not having picked up a few juicy ‘jamuns’ for myself from the Guest house premises, a flourishing tree that was. Called up Mitali M’am to wish her a happy Birthday, she had some trouble in identifying me, though. We paid a visit to Swami Narayan temple, to confess, I was startled by the presence of unfamiliar idols in the temple, because here in North we seldom worship the prophets of the sect, however great they may be! But, yeh hai Mumbai meri Jaan! I had read somewhere that Amitabh Bachhan’s fans have erected a temple for him; it was now that struck me as being too bizarre.
We shopped at Church gate for some clothes and like, I bought a patchwork kurti and Vasundhara bought a plain one. Shopping done, we hurriedly made it back for we had our train at 5:42 pm and were keen on not missing it. After lunch we took a taxi to Mumbai Central Station, and waited in possibly the largest waiting hall I claim to have seen, with this ends my south-sojourn of Pune and Mumbai. Mumbai was seen hurriedly but Pune we explored at our leisure, the weather gods were propitious enough too. Altogether, an enjoyable trip but there is no place like home. As I write this, trying to make myself a coffee, with the kit Rajdhani Caterers have provided us, I scald my hand with hot water, so its time Mummy takes care of all this business. No more, a wanderer I wanna be!!Mummaaaaaaaaaaaaaah….
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