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Lepakshi Temple

“At least you can enjoy the cool weather of Bengaluru instead of roasting in Delhi.” Deepika insisted and so I tagged along with her to spend a few days with Ayush and Rajashree.

Deepika’s friend Moushumi suggested we go out for 3-4 days to Belur & Halebeedu, a Hoisala heritage site about 100 miles from Bengaluru. However, the idea could not fructify because of the not-so-good road condition and the unpredictable rains in Karnataka. In any case, I was contended to spend the days at home and cook up some savouries for the kids. Then Moushumi came up with another heritage place, Lepakshi Temple, a day trip from Bengaluru on NH44 (Bengaluru-Hyderabad Highway). We decided to go on Tuesday 3rd June but on Sunday morning my nose turned ticklish and by evening it became full blown cold with running nose and mild fever, thankfully, Deepika was carrying medicine for such eventualities. I must confess that on Sunday, even though all indications suggested that I take complete rest but rest of the gang wanted to go out for lunch on the only Sunday afternoon for a family outing. Sunday happened to be Bengali Jamai Shashti, a day when the son-in-law is pampered to the hilt with a royal feast and we decided to visit the famous restaurant of Kolkata Mitra Café, only to be turned away with a waiting time of over an hour.  Rajashree searched for alternative restaurants in the vicinity and came up with Bier Garten, a roof top restaurant…the weather was decent enough to enjoy a nice meal and a pint of draught beer. Now, you can imagine what aggravated my sinuses!!

By Tuesday, with strong doses of anti-allergy medicines, I felt better and we decided to take the trip to Lepakshi. I suggested we hire a driver to drive Moushumi’s Suzuki XL-6 automatic, not being sure that I will be fit enough to drive. The ETD was 6:30 am to avoid the city traffic on a working day, accordingly Deepika & I reached Moushumi’s home at ACME, Bellandur only to find her sitting in her car, waiting for the driver to come. We waited for 30 more minutes with Moushumi trying to reach the driver or the agency that provides the services but no one responded. It was getting late, so I sat at the wheel and checked the vehicle’s functions. I felt confident to drive the car and we took off around 7:30 am.

It took us one hour to traverse through the city to reach the highway to Hyderabad. I had experience of driving on this stretch having made multiple visits to Bengaluru while stationed at Hyderabad. In those days, there weren’t many good decent places to stop for a bite. I asked Deepika and Moushumi to look for a breakfast place and they came up with A2B (Adyar Ananda Bhavan), a restaurant serving South Indian cuisine but soon realised that we had crossed it by many miles. Then we came across a signage promoting a restaurant called Koteshwaram, about a kilometre away from our location.

Koteshwaram turned out to a nice restaurant with option of fine dining as well as option for a quick bite on the go from the counter. It was a new place started operation four months ago. The food was Karnataka-Andhra influenced… thick dosa and mildly sweet sambhar but otherwise very tasty. On the table was a “tent-card” showcasing their desserts and one item instantly touched a chord in my heart. It was “Jelly Ice-cream”, reminded me of the times I used tag along with my brothers to the football match and afterwards would walk 5 km to Connaught Place from Ambedkar Stadium, Delhi Gate for the promised hamburger and cream jelly at the Indian Coffee House.

After our leisurely breakfast stretching over an hour, we started for our destination. The Google Map showed our destination, Lepakshi Temple, only 1:15 hour away, I drove sedately at 80 kmph (within speed limit) and reached our destination around 11 am, from the outside, it looked a small edifice, making us wonder if we reached the correct location!!

It is actually Veerbhadra Temple at Lepakshi. Veerabhadra Temple is a Hindu temple located in the Lepakshi, in the state of Andhra Pradesh, India. The temple is dedicated to the Virabhadra, a fierce form of the god Shiva.

Built in the 16th century, the architectural features of the temple are in the Vijayanagara style with profusion of carvings and paintings at almost every exposed surface of the temple. It is one of the centrally protected monuments of national importance and is considered one of the most spectacular Vijayanagara temples. The fresco paintings are particularly detailed in very bright dresses and colours with scenes of Rama and Krishna from the epic stories of the Ramayana, the Mahabharata and the Puranas and they are well preserved.

There is a very large Nandi (bull), mount of Shiva, about 200 metres (660 ft) away from the temple which is carved from a single block of stone, which is said to be one of the largest of its type in the world. The temple has been built on the southern side of Lepakshi town, on a low altitude hillock of a large exposure of granite rock, which is in the shape of a tortoise, and hence known as Kurma Saila. It is 140 kilometres away from Bengaluru. The approach from the National Highway NH44/ NH44 to Hyderabad that takes a branch road at the Karnataka-Andhra Pradesh border leading to Lepakshi, 12 kilometres away.

The temple was built in 1530 AD by Virupanna Nayaka and Viranna, both brothers who were Governors under the Vijayanagar Empire during the reign of King Achyuta Deva Raya, at Penukonda who were native to Karnataka. They belonged to the warrior merchant class of Veerashaiva Vani. The temple consists of only Kannada inscriptions. According to Skanda Purana, the temple is one of the Divyakshetras, an important pilgrimage site of Lord Shiva.

The main temple is laid out in three parts, these are: The assembly hall known as the Mukha mantapa or Natya mantapa or Ranga mantapa; arda mantapa or antarala (ante chamber); and the garbhagriha or the sanctum sanctorum. The temple, as an edifice, is encircled by two enclosures. The outermost walled enclosure has three gates; the northern gate is used regularly. The inner east gate is the entry to the assembly hall, which is a large sized open hall designed with a large space in its central part.

It is at the entrance to the sanctum sanctorum and has a profusion of sculptures and paintings over every inch of space on the columns and ceiling. The images on the pillars and walls are of divine beings, saints, guardians, musicians, dancers and 14 avatars of Shiva. Figurines of the goddesses Ganga and Yamuna flank the entrance to the sanctum. The exterior columns of this hall are built over a decorated plinth; the decorations are in the form of blocks of carved images of horses and soldiers. The columns are slim and have features of colonnettes carved with eaves, overhanging in a curved shape. The open space in the middle part of the hall is defined by large columns or piers which have carvings of triple figures.

In the columns in the northeastern part of the hall, there are images of Natesha flanked by Brahma and a drummer. In an adjoining column there are figurines of nymphs in dancing postures, flanked by a drummer and cymbalist. The column at the southwest part of the hall has an image of Parvathi, Shiva’s consort, flanked by female attendants. There are also carvings of divinities such as Bhringi with three legs and Bhikshatana carved in a dancing posture; this is in the northwestern part of the hall. The ceiling of the hall is fully covered with mural paintings depicting the scenes from the epics, the Mahabharata, the Ramayana, and the Puranas along with the life sketches of the benefactors of the temple.

The paintings in each bay on the ceiling of the main mandapa, the antarala and other shrines, depict the grandeur of Vijayanagara pictorial art. They are painted over an initial plaster layer of lime mortar. The colour scheme consists of vegetable and mineral colours of yellow, ochre, black, blue and green blended with lime water; the background is generally painted in red colour. Apart from figures of gods and goddesses, in the presence of the devotees arranged in rows, the frescoes also depict the incarnations of Vishnu. The paintings are in striking compositions where the particular emphasis is on the period costumes and facial expressions. The fresco in the ceiling of ardha mantapa (ante chamber), which is said to be Asia’s largest, measures 23 by 13 feet (7.0 m × 4.0 m). It has frescoes of the 14 avatars of Lord Shiva as: Yogadakshinamurti, Chandes Anugraha Murthy, Bhikshatana, Harihara, Ardhanarishwara, Kalyanasundara, Tripurantaka, Nataraja, Gouriprasadaka, Lingodbhava, Andhakasurasmahara…

The presiding deity deified in the sanctum sanctorum is a near life-size image of Veerabhadra, fully armed and decorated with skulls. There is a cave chamber in the sanctum where sage Agasthya is said to have lived when he installed the image of the Linga here. The ceiling in the sanctum above the deity has paintings of the builders of the temple, Virupanna and Viranna, regally dressed and crowned with headgear similar to those adorning the Krishnadevaraya’s bronze statue in Tirupati. They are depicted, with their entourage, in a state of reverential prayer, being offered sacred ashes of their family deity.

Within the temple complex, on the eastern wing, there is a separate chamber with Shiva and his consort Parvathi carved on a boulder. In another shrine chamber there is an image of Lord Vishnu. Within the temple precincts, to its eastern side, there is huge boulder of granite stone which has carving of coiled multi-hooded serpent providing an umbrella cover over a Shiva Linga.

The apparently “hanging pillar” is yet another attraction in the temple. There is a gap between the base of the pillar and ground through which cloth and paper can be passed, as the pillar is slightly dislodged and touching the ground only on one side. A huge granite Nandi (bull), 20 feet (6.1 m) in height and 30 feet (9.1 m) in length, bedecked with garlands and bells, carved out of a single block stone, is located about 200 metres (660 ft) from the temple, which faces the statue of the serpent in the precincts of the temple.

We were awestruck by the temple’s architecture, stone carving and the fresco art. Deepika offered puja at the Veerbhadra temple for the peace and prosperity of the family. The priest offered us a small banana (Yellaki or Ilaichi Banana) as prasad. Coming out from the main temple, we made a parikrama of the temple complex, the expansive structure and use of the flat hilltop was simply amazing.

I was wearing my footwear sitting on the stairs to the temple when I noticed a few monkeys in the vicinity, two of them were scanning the area for food and one was peacefully sleeping. A group of devotees were passing through the gate which woke up the monkey and it looked at the source of the disturbance with irritation. In a swift movement, it swooped down on one of the devotees and snatched a banana that the man was holding in his hand, quickly peeling off the skin and devouring it. Deepika, unaware of the incidence walked straight towards Moushumi, sitting under the tree, a few feet away from the monkey, asking her to take a picture when the monkey rushed to her and in a swift movement took out the banana (prasad) that was barely visible from her purse. She panicked and started screaming but the monkey was neither interested in her nor in the purse. I told her to calm down and back off from the monkey. The scene was repeated once more on another hapless devotee.

We left for Bengaluru soon thereafter, hoping to evade the notorious evening traffic. The drive was uneventful except witnessing a crash on the other side of the road, a Toyota Hyrider had hit a tractor trolley with its engine completely gutted and a BMW tried best to avoid them but failed hitting the Toyota from behind. There was a huge man-made congestion of onlookers. It costed us precious 20 minutes before we could cruise again.

Reaching Bengaluru, we decided to stop for lunch at the Manyata Tech Park famous for a food court having the best of the restaurants. The food at the Nasi & Mee was excellent and every morsel was devoured by us. Under the specials, they had a sushi dessert called Mango Sticky Rice served with a coconut milk dip, mildly sweet with the natural sweetness of the mango. Even though, it was unique and flavourful, I felt, it lacked the sweetness one expects in a dessert, they could have added a bit of sweetener in the sticky rice before rolling it. Overall, we were very satisfied with both the quality and quantity of the servings, Thai Green Curry with Jasmine Rice, Veg Hakka Noodles and Prawn Curry for the main course as well as the dumplings for starters.

Moushumi, insisted that we stopover at her home for a cup of tea and rest a while before going home. I checked with Ayush if he can pick us up from there on his way back from office, detouring 20 minutes from his usual route and he confirmed affirmative. I handed over the wheels to Moushumi for the last leg of the journey to her home, as she knows the route while I would have needed constant guidance negotiating the heavy traffic. Later, Ayush picked us up but I realized the detour was a torture for his tired soul after a grinding day in the office.

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The Night Mechanic

The car stopped in the middle of the Leopard Trail Road. Alok Sengupta, retired civil engineer tried to restart the engine a few times, the car made scaarrr… scaarrr noise but did not start. Beside him sat his 12 years old grandson who is visiting his grandparents, a week ahead of his parents coming from Seattle, USA. Alok picked him up from the Delhi airport and was on their way home to Sohna where Alok had moved after retirement, building a decent house with lots of greenery around. He came out of the car and opened the hood of the car but in the pitch dark he couldn’t see anything. He was cursing himself for not retaining the driver for this trip even though Sutapa, his wife insisted but he dismissed the idea. He lighted a cigarette and contemplated calling his friend Aro who lived in Gurgaon. Just then a voice from the woods called out, “Sir, I can repair your car if you permit.” Alok was startled and looked enquiring at the source of the voice, about 15-20 metres from him, a man was standing under a tree, only his silhouette could be seen not the face.

“Who are you?”

“I am a mechanic by profession Sir.”

“How come you are here at this late hour?”

“Sir, we keep an eye on this and other highways, just in case someone needs us.”

“Okay, see if you can bring the car to life.”

The man came out from the shadow of the trees and approached the car. Alok switched on the torch on his mobile to help the mechanic.

“Switch off the light Sir, I don’t need any light.”

“How will you work in this darkness?”

“No worries, Sir, we are used to the darkness.”

 The mechanic swiftly went under the car and started twinkling with the auto parts. Alok waited patiently puffing away cigarettes one after the other. As a civil engineer working with the PWD, he had made this road cutting through the jungle and hills. He had insisted on having at least two gas stations on this 26 km stretch of the winding road but his idea was turned down for reasons not privy to him.

“How much longer?” Alok asked.

“Just another few minutes… almost done, Sir.”

After another ten odd minutes, the mechanic called out from under the car, “Please take your seat in the car and start the engine.”

Alok, with a bit of uncertainty, sat on the car, his grandson fallen asleep. He pushed the start button and magically the car engine revved up.

“It’s done Sir, go ahead and drive safely.”

Alok was hesitant to move thinking the man was still under the car, he shouted out, “You come out from under the car.”

“I am already out Sir.” The voice came from a distance in the woods.

In the dim light of the stars he could see the man standing under a tree in the distance. He switched on the headlight of the car to see him clearly but the man had gone behind the tree.

“Sir, go ahead straight and you will reach at the bridge which will take you to the main highway. I am glad that I could be of help to you.”

Alok followed the advice, although he was well versed with the road having built it few years ago. Soon he reached the bridge which led him to a tea stall just before hitting the highway. He stopped, the skies are lighting up slowly, it will soon be morning. He needed a warm cup of tea. He woke up his grandson to check if he would like some warm milk but he refused and went back to sleep.

He asked for a Masala Chai and lit up a cigarette, if Sutapa was around, she, surely would have admonished him. The took a sip of the warm chai and let the liquid flow down his throat warming his whole body. Just then a man wrapped in a shawl approached him and gave him two pieces of paper. Before, Alok could react, the man walked away and vanished.

Alok finished his Chai, paid up and sat in the car. Before starting the engine, he decided to check the papers. The first sheet was a death certificate and the second sheet was a letter to the authority signed by him only. It was an application for compensation to the family of a victim who died when a part of the under-construction bridge collapsed during a spell of torrential rain. The victim was Sanjay Singh, a mechanic by profession. He was riding on the service road when a concrete slab from the bridge fell on him. He died on the spot. Alok had fought with his superiors and taken the matter to the office of the then Chief Minister to ensure the family of deceased Sanjay Singh is suitably compensated.

Alok, looked at the sky which was turning red with the first lights of the sun and thanked the mechanic Sanjay Singh for helping him in a dire situation. The night mechanic paid his gratitude.  

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The Spirited Seltos

Nikhil Wagle, a software engineer with a multinational company was posted to Ranchi to set up the systems at their new office. Alone, in the city, he tried to explore the nearby places but the tantrums of the autorickshaw drivers was a big put off for him. Last weekend, when he went to Patratu Valley, the autorickshaw driver, literally ripped him by charging 3000 rupees for the trip. He thought of buying a second-hand car for himself and asked Sunil, the driver of his boss to keep an eye for a good, trouble-free car at a reasonable price.

It was a Saturday, Nikhil, made a sandwich and coffee for breakfast… seated on the balcony of his 8th floor apartment enjoying the pre-monsoon shower when Sunil called up…

“Sir, I have found a car, in fact an SUV for you, it is about two years old, in good condition. The owner is ready to sell at a very reasonable, dirt-cheap price. But I must tell you, I heard some funny things about the vehicle.”

“You are confusing me, Sunil, you said it’s a good car at a reasonable price and also something funny about the car. What so funny? And what kind of car or SUV is it?”

“Sir, it’s a Kia Seltos, two years old, almost showroom condition but it’s the second owner who wants to sell. The rumour is that the vehicle gets possessed by spirits after sunset.”

“How is that possible? The rumour must have been spread by some jealous neighbours to deter buyers. When can I see the car?”

“if you are free, we can visit the seller in the evening, say around 5 o’clock, I will pick you up.”

“Okay, I will wait for you.”

In the evening, Sunil, as promised came in his Bullet 350 bike to pick-up Nikhil at his Chanakyapuri residence. He offered a spare helmet to Nikhil and said, “We have to go to Abhishek Singh’s home in Kanke, about 20 km from here. He is into timber trading and also has a resort in Dalton Ganj.”

It took some time to locate the house of Abhishek Singh, situated near the Greenview Enclave, it was a sprawling house, built on a 1000-yard plot, clearly showcasing the wealth of the owner. The maroon-coloured Kia Seltos was parked right in front of the house, it looked brand new, without any scratch or dent, a rarity for the city, especially after two years. Sunil rang the bell and they waited.

A man, slightly older than Nikhil came out to greet them…

“Namaskar, I am Abhijit, you must have come to see my father. Have you come to buy this car?” the young man pointed to the Seltos and asked.

“Yes, can we check the car, I mean the interior and the engine?”

“Why not? I will fetch the keys for you. But do it before the sun sets.”

Abhijit went inside to get the keys and with him came his father, Avinash Singh.

“Are you sure, you want to buy this car even after hearing the strange stories about it. And I must confess, the car does act funny, and at times even scarily.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts or spirits, there must be some technical issue with the engine which can be rectified. Now, tell me how much are you expecting, you know, I am a salaried employee with limited resources.”

Abhishek’s phone buzzed and he answered, after a few yes and no, he turned towards Nikhil and Sunil and spoke, “That was my mother, she admonished me for not inviting you guys inside. Please come inside to have some refreshment and discuss further.”

The deal was finalised over a sumptuous spread of snacks prepared by Jolly Devi, wife of Avinash Singh. Nikhil thought five lakh rupees for the almost new Kia Seltos is a steal and offered to pay five thousand as advance but Avinash refused saying, “Some other people have done that earlier, but never came back to complete the deal. I don’t want to collect money like that, if you are serious, please come back tomorrow with the full amount and take the car. I have all the papers ready, just have to put your name at the appropriate places.”

“Some friends are waiting for me, please excuse me, I have to go now.” Abhishek apologised and took leave. Shortly, there was a sound of engine starting followed by revving up of the accelerator and a car zooming off at a high speed.

“These youngsters are too adventurous; I have told Abhishek so many times to not drive rashly but he doesn’t listen to me.” Avinash spoke resignedly.

Nikhil’s mobile buzzed and he answered, the conversation was short, he answered in monosyllables and ended the call. He turned to Avinash and said, “That was from my boss in Bengaluru, I have been called to there on urgent meeting. I have to take the earliest flight tomorrow. Can you wait till I come back from Bengaluru?”

“Look, as I told you, some people came to check on it and left saying they would come back, but never showed up ever again. So, I can’t promise you anything. If tomorrow someone shows up with the money, I will surely sell it to them.”

Nikhil checked his purse again and said, “I have about five thousand rupees with me right now which I can give you as advance.”

“No, I don’t want any advance but the full value.”

“In that case, I will write a cheque in your favour and give it to Sunil. He will come back tomorrow, you can handover the vehicle to him. We will complete the paperwork once I am back.”

Avinash agreed to the proposal and they took leave from him. When they came out, the Kia Seltos was nowhere to be seen, they thought Abhishek might have taken it out one last time before his father disposes the vehicle. Coming back to his apartment, Nikhil handed over the cheque to Sunil with express instruction to bring the car and park at his assigned parking slot.

Nikhil’s engagement in Bengaluru got extended to five days in which time he received a single message from Sunil that he has taken the delivery of the vehicle from Avinash. He had tried to call Sunil but there was no response from the other side. Nikhil was irritated for this unresponsive nature of Sunil.  

On Friday evening, Nikhil arrived back in Ranchi and was excited to take the Seltos out for a spin, before going to his apartment, he went to the parking to check and was shocked to find the empty space. He became furious and immediately called Sunil…the phone kept ringing but no one answered. He then called up his boss to check if he has sent out Sunil somewhere…

“Hello, Ranjan Sir, just wanted to check if you have sent Sunil out of town, had some work with him.”

“Hi Nikhil, welcome back. No, I haven’t sent him anywhere. In fact, since Monday evening when he dropped me home, he hasn’t showed up for work. He’s not answering his phone too… I am thinking of sacking him if he shows up now.”

Nikhil then called up Avinash who confirmed that Sunil had given him the cheque and taken the delivery of the vehicle on Monday evening. The conversations made Nikhil worried, he decided to get the address of Sunil and check him out, maybe he’s not well, he thought.

In the morning, Avinash called Nikhil, “Nikhil, please come over to my place to complete the paperwork. The vehicle is still in my name and if anything, untoward happens, it will badly impact me.”

“Avinash Ji, I am trying to locate Sunil and the vehicle and I will come as soon as possible.”

It took some effort to cajole his colleague in HR to reach office on a off-day to dig out the address of Sunil and by the time Nikhil reached the residence of Sunil in Tikratoli it was late afternoon. His father informed that Sunil had left on Monday evening saying that he has to attend some business in Kanke but hasn’t returned. They were not worried because he had done such irresponsible act previously too. But since Nikhil presented himself and narrated the business that Sunil had in Kanke, they became worried and decided to lodge a missing person at the police station.

Nikhil left them to do what they wanted to do and went over to Kanke to meet Avinash.

“I am telling you, something must have happened to Sunil. By the time he took the vehicle it was getting dark. I told him to take it in the morning or afternoon during day time but he was adamant that you wanted the vehicle at your home when come back.”

“But where he would have taken it?”

“Who knows? He might have sold it to some uncouth dealers at a higher price…”

Nikhil, finished the paperwork and gave a undertaking to Avinash that henceforth he was responsible for the vehicle. Avinash advised him to lodge a police complaint as well for the missing Seltos.

It was late when he came out, Abhishek met him at the gate and suggested, “You won’t get any transport from here at this hour, let me drop you at the highway, you will be able to flag down any autorickshaw going towards the city.”

Nikhil was getting restless, it was almost half hour and not a single autorickshaw had shown up on the road, it was getting dark on this new moon night. He began cursing Sunil and finally himself for wanting to buy the maroon Seltos.

Suddenly, out of the blue, a car came with great speed and applied hard brake to stop in front of Nikhil. It was Seltos but in the darkness, the maroon colour looked black. Sunil was at wheel and someone with a hoodie was sitting on the passenger side.

“Get in Sir, quickly. It’s really very nice car, very peppy with lots of zing. I will drop you to your home.”

In a hypnotic spell, Nikhil got into the rear seat. Once the vehicle started moving, he asked irritatingly, “Where did you take my car? I told you to park it at my residence. Why didn’t you do that?”

“Have patience Sir, it’s a long story, I will tell you once we stop.”

Sunil, without any further talk, pressed on the accelerator and the speedometer kept climbing… crossing the speed limit of 120 kmph, the in-built sensor started screaming. Nikhil shouted at the top of his voice, “Slow down Sunil, you will kill all of us. This is my car and I command you to stop immediately. Stop…stop…”

“Who says this is your car? This is my car and Sunil won’t stop.” The man with a hoodie turned towards Nikhil and spoke in a hushed tone.

Nikhil froze in the rear seat of the Seltos, under the hoodie, a skeleton was talking to him. Nikhil stammered as he meekly spoke to Sunil, “W…who is this man? W…where did you p..pick him up?”

“Sir, he is the owner of this car, Dr. Chowdhury.”

Nikhil was scared sweating profusely; he kept pleading with Sunil to stop the vehicle but Sunil kept increasing the speed further to 150 kmph. Nikhil watched in horror, a dump of sand or mud covering half the road ahead and from behind it a cyclist appeared suddenly. Sunil had to apply the brake and taking the advantage of the slow speed, Nikhil opened the door and rolled on to the sand dump. He rolled on for few laps before hitting the hard surface of the road and passed out.

When Nikhil opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed surrounded by his office colleague besides the doctor and nurse. He tried to speak but nothing comprehensive came out.

“Relax, Nikhil, we are happy that you are alive, it will take couple of days rest to completely heal. It is heartening to know that there are good Samaritans exists amongst us, a doctor of this hospital returning from Bokaro, found you on the Taimara Ghati (NH33) and brought you here. You were in coma for three days.” Dr. Judhajit announced.

A week later, Nikhil, still in bandages, was sitting with few of his colleague and his brother who had come from Jamshedpur when Avinash joined them with his son, Abhishek.

“Nikhil, you had a lucky escape that day but your friend Sunil wasn’t so lucky. We came to know from police that a badly mutilated body was recovered on the day after Sunil took away the Seltos from us, from very close to the spot where you were found. The police also found the mangled remains of the maroon-coloured Kia Seltos in a ditch some 20-25 meters from there.”

“Who is Dr. Chowdhury?” Nikhil asked.

“Dr. Chowdhury was the first owner of that vehicle. About six months ago, while returning from Bokaro, on the same highway, he had a cardiac arrest, the driver took him to the nearest hospital but he was already dead. His daughter sold the car to me but it seems the spirit of Dr. Chowdhury did not leave the Kia Seltos.”

Abhishek took out an envelope from his bag and gave it to his father. “Nikhil, please accept this cheque of five lakh rupees that you gave me for the car. Since, the car registration wasn’t transferred to you, technically, it is still my car and I have received the police report and filed it with the insurance company for total loss. I am relieved, now that the vehicle is destroyed, no one else will ever get hurt.”

Nikhil took the cheque and said, “I will give this to Sunil’s father, he died for no fault of his.”  

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The Desert Storm

Agniv Singh, a Research Fellow with Geological Survey of India has been tasked with the research on the water bodies of the deserts spanning the western part of Rajasthan. He and his team had set up a camp office in Barmer from where they have made trips to Jaisalmer and around in search of oases, playas and wadis. The idea was to look for the source of water filling these up. The last two are dependent on the rainfall and therefore not important for his research but the first one holds the secret of underlying water sources that can eventually help the region.

Yesterday evening, talking to the local elders, Agniv came to know of a lake in the middle of the expansive desert, some 10 km towards the south-west of his camp. This morning, he shared the information with his local guide Irfan Khan who had immediately gone to get a camel for the trip down to the lake. In the desert, camel is the best mode of transport because even the best of the 4W SUV’s can get stalled due to sand getting into the engine or fuel points. Moreover, the camels have a natural instinct to figure out the best and shortest route avoiding the sinkholes.

After the fee negotiations, the camel owner tried to get the camel to rise and get going but the camel refused to get up. Irfan was watching the manoeuvre and getting impatient, finally he said, “What kind of camel rider are you? It’s almost an hour; you have failed to get the animal get up even. We have to come back by evening. Let me give the animal my dose of medicine.” Irfan went close to the camel and started tickling the animal at the joint of the front legs and after a while, grunting angrily the camel got up with a jerk and started running without waiting for Irfan to get onto it.

“Stop the camel, we have to pick-up Irfan” Agniv called up the camel rider, Mudassar Ali.

“No Sir” Mudassar Ali replied seriously. “The camel won’t allow him to ride on her. She’s angry with him for tickling her.”

“Tickling makes people laugh, why will she get angry?’

“Sir, they are animals, they get offended by tickling.”

“But, without Irfan, my guide, I will be lost. I need him.”

“Don’t worry Sir, I will take you to the lake and bring you back as well. My camel knows the route; she will take us there safely.”

There are no set path in the desert, the camel was on a rhythmic walk, at times veering steeply from the straight line. Mudassar Ali informed that such detour is to avoid the sinkholes which in human eyes are completely invisible but the animals can figure out instinctively.

“The camel is moving on its own, you are not guiding it… does it know where we are heading or it will take us somewhere else?”

“I told her where she has to take us and she was reluctant to go, that area is not a safe place with many sinkholes on the path. If I guide the camel, we may fall into one such sinkhole but my camel will bypass all such pits with complete ease.”

Agniv started to say something but Mudassar stopped him with a gesture and then whispered, “Sir, don’t talk, the camel is getting irritated by the noise. Let her concentrate on the path.”

Agniv wondered what’s the role of Mudassar… he doesn’t know the route to the lake, has no inkling about the many sinkholes scattered across the desert…totally dependent on his camel. He must keep it happy, always otherwise it may simply stop in the middle of the desert!! Agniv took out his compass that he always carried with him and checked the coordinates. He sighed a relief as the compass indicated that they were on the right path.

“You must keep her happy or else she may decide enough is enough and stop in the middle of nowhere in this vast desert.”

“I try to keep her happy but see, today she was reluctant to come but was forced for this trip. Pray to the god that everything goes fine on this journey. And Sir, please don’t speak up, the camel is getting distracted and not liking it at all.”

Agniv kept silent and let the camel travel at its own pace avoiding the obstructions. The heat, both from above as well as below became unbearable as the sun ascended to the middle of the sky right above their head. But the camel is used to such weather and continued in the same unhurried pace towards her destination. After about an hour, Mudassar announced that they are about to reach their destination, the lake or the oases in the desert.

“How do you know? I can only see miles and miles of sand only.”

“Close to the lake is the village where my aunt lives, I have been here many times, so I know this place.”

As soon as they crossed a wadi, a beautiful scene came in their view. It was as if an artist had drawn a canvas with riot of greens and blue in the middle of the beige sand. A beautiful expansive lake surrounded by green palm trees and shrubberies stood ahead. Mudassar instructed the camel to stop and the animal sat down to unload her passenger. Agniv got down and stretched his body after the arduous journey from Barmer.

“I will check this lake for the water source now, it may take few hours, you can take rest and let your camel eat and drink.”

“No worries, Sir, I will go to my aunt’s home and will be back soon enough for the ride back.”

Mudassar made ‘tut-tut’ sound to which the camel got up and started walking and soon it vanished behind the dune. Agniv walked towards the lake to check the water current that may throw light on the water source. He realized, there must be some underground source to sustain such a large water body, it possibly cannot remain full on rainwater alone when there is sparse rain even during the monsoon months. The water was clear blue, taking in the reflection of pollution free blue sky. He could see layers of hard rock deep below. His thoughts were, somewhere from those crevices, water must be flowing in & out continuously to make this lake live. A thought occurred to him that the ancient Saraswati River may be still alive under the desert, nourishing this lake. He walked along the bank shooting video and taking photograph for later analysis.

He decided to search for more lakes like this and if a triangulation can be established, go for deep drilling to look for the underground water source. He was in deep thoughts and was startled when a hand pressed his shoulder, he turned back to find a tall old man in local Rajasthani outfit with long stick looking at him intently with a quizzical look.

“Sir, don’t stand here, come with me.”

“Why? Who are you?”

The man without replying, took Agniv’s hand and pulled him inside a stone house or rather a room that Agniv had not seen earlier being engrossed in the feature of the lake.

“Why did you bring me here? Who the hell are you?” Agniv was visibly angree.

“It is not important, who I am. I have just saved your life. A storm is coming this way and you being a city dweller would have perished in its wake.”

“A storm? Where…” Before Agniv could finish his sentence, a sudden sand storm engulfed the region making the surroundings dark, the sun became hazy with winds lashing the walls of the stone room with great fury. Agniv was speechless.

“Now you realise what would have happened to you if you were standing by the lake.”

“But what about Mudassar and his camel? Hope they are fine.”

“Don’t worry about them, he is a local and the camels are used to such storm, they will be fine.”

Soon, the storm subsided, Agniv and the old man came out of the stone room. There was a layer of sand still engulfing the atmosphere like a sheet of silk, everything was hazy. Agniv started walking along the bank of the lake examining the rock formation below the water and the embankment hoping to find the crevice that will solve the puzzle of the water source.

“What are you looking for?” The old man who had silently followed him asked.

“I am looking for a crack or crevice in these rocks from where the water is flowing into this lake.”

“The water is coming from beneath. It can’t be seen but there it exists, I can feel it”

“How come?”

“On a silent night you can hear the sound of the water gushing in the lake from below the surface. I hear them all the time.”

“I don’t hear any such sound.”

“You have to be patient and concentrate to hear the sound.”

Agniv found out more about the old man… he’s Usman Ali, he has been here as long as he can remember. He doesn’t have any family and spends his days in taking care of a Mazaar of a Pir Baba and a Shiv Mandir next to each other.

“You take care of the masjid and the mandir, both?” Agniv was surprised.

“I have no problem taking care of both the masjid and the mandir… for me both are same. We call them in different names for our own selfish motives.”

“You do the full rituals at the Shiv mandir every day?”

“What do I know about the rituals, Sir? I pray to Mahadev as I pray to Allah, every moment.”

Agniv and Usman Ali came back inside the stone room. Usman made millet chapati and served Agniv with Aloo Sabji. It was delicious, more so because Agniv was famished by the events since morning. After the late lunch, they conversed about various things. Usman Ali told him about three more lakes or oases within 50 miles from there. Agniv decided to verify the locations once he gets back to the camp. He became desperate once the sun started descending on the western horizon because there was no sign of Mudassar and his camel.

“What’s the matter? Mudassar probably has gone back without you.” Usman teased Agniv.

“No, that’s not possible. He has brought me here and surely will take me back. Moreover, I haven’t paid him yet.”

“Maybe he has gone, you can’t be sure how the camel reacts…you said the animal was reluctant to come here in the morning. It is possible that the animal is not willing to come out from the comfort of Mudassar’s aunt’s home.”

“You could be right. But what do I do now? How will I get back to the camp?”

“You will go on a different camel. My camel will be back tomorrow morning with the provisions from the city. I will drop you to the camp then. Tonight you stay with me…it is not as comfortable as your camp but under the circumstances you don’t have any other option.”

A mysterious light emanated in the atmosphere, probably the combination of the dew from the lake and the sand of the desert dancing together as the sun went down for the day.

“Usman bhai, come have look at the mysterious lights from the lake.” Agniv called out to the old man.

“Don’t look at that light for long, it’s the ghostly light. Please come inside.” Usman replied seriously.

Usman lighted the stove to make millet chapatis for both of them along with the leftover aloo-sabji from the afternoon. After the frugal dinner, Usman laid out the straw mattress for Agniv to sleep as well as for himself. Though, Agniv was sceptical about sleeping on the straw mattress, because of the exhaustion and stress about his return journey, he was soon fast asleep.

Agniv woke up by the call of Mudassar from outside, “Sir…sir… come out quickly, I have come to take you back.”

Agniv looked at his watch… 3 am… Usman was fast asleep, didn’t even stir by the calling of Mudassar. Agniv got up and went out with his bag of equipment and the rock and sand sample that he collected. Mudassar was sitting on his camel, upright and standing with their back towards Agniv.

“Get on the camel quickly, Sir. It will soon be sunrise.” Mudassar urged.

“How can I get on the camel, she’s standing, tell her to sit down.”

“Not on this camel, there’s another camel waiting for you to ride.”

“Will it not be better if we start once the daylight breaks? We might fall into a sinkhole in the darkness.”

“Don’t worry the camels can sense the sinkholes even in the darkness and avoid them. Now, ride the camel, we have to reach Barmer before the sunrise.”

“Where did you get this other camel? I am not going to pay you extra for this.”

“That one belongs to my aunt. She won’t ask you for money.”

Agniv got on to the camel and Mudassar made “tut-tut” sound which prompted the camel to rise and follow the camel of Mudassar. After a while, Agniv could hardly make out the figures of the camel and its rider, there was a kind of glow surrounding them. His own camel without any prompting was sedately following the glow ahead.

“Mudassar, are you there?” Agniv called out.

“Yes Sir, very much, just ahead of you. Please don’t shout, let the animals concentrate on the path.”

“I can’t see either of you. Hope your camel is wise enough to avoid the sinkholes in this darkness.”

“The camel is on the right path.”

True, to his words, the camel was on the right path, soon he could see the silhouettes of the camp ahead. Agniv got down from the camel as they reached the camp. He took out the money to give to Mudassar but couldn’t see him anywhere in the vicinity. Agniv was surprised that he has gone away without taking his remuneration. He assumed, he will come back in the morning after resting up.   

In the evening, instead of Mudassar, Usman Ali came to the camp with a young man of Agniv’s age. They have been looking the lost camel of Mudassar’s aunt which went missing after the desert storm yesterday. Usman said, “I was worried about you…how did you reach here?”

“Why? Last night, Mudassar came to your stone room and called me, you were in deep sleep so I did not disturb you and left with him. In fact, he brought another camel for me. See, it is still there.” Agniv pointed out to the camel grazing near the camp office.

The young man shouted, “Oh, there it is, that’s our camel.”

“What are you saying, Sir?” Usman sounded surprised.

“Yes, Mudassar was on his own camel and I was riding this one. It followed them and brought me to the camp early this morning.”

“How is that possible? Yesterday, in that sand storm, Mudassar and his camel fell into a sinkhole and were buried deep into the sand. You can say, they vanished from the earth.” The young man named Irfan, cousin of Mudassar spoke sadly.

“That’s not true, Irfan. They may have fallen into a sinkhole but they are still with us… Mudassar kept his promise of bringing back Agniv Sir to the camp.”

Irfan started crying like a child and Agniv was speechless… his scientific brain refused to believe what he experienced but deep inside he felt a sense of gratitude for the departed soul of Mudassar and his camel for bringing him back to the camp safely.

Posted on by Aranyascope

The Neighbor

Dolon liked the single-story bungalow with front and rear lawns, three spacious bedrooms, separate living and dining rooms. There was small pond behind the house accessible through a wicker gate. She sighed and thought, how long are we going to stay here? Her husband, Shubro is a police officer with a transferable job that doesn’t let them stay at one place for than three years. The most affected person is their daughter Tumpa or Shinjini, she has already moved three schools, now will be in her fourth school. Dolon hoped she likes the new school and makes new friends quickly. The bungalow was just outside the city limits, sparsely populated area but very peaceful, Dolon was happy that unnecessary vendors and strangers won’t be calling up.

The household stuff had arrived yesterday, Dolon had been busy since morning setting up the house with the help of their man Friday, Govind, a havildar attached with Subhro. He is now gone for the day promising to get a house-help in the morning. Her mind was cluttered with many thoughts about this new place… whether she will get an efficient maid to getting Tumpa admitted to a good school and a good tutor for her, though Tumpa is quite intelligent and had been on top of her class till date. She was standing near the wicker gate and looking at the pond when her thoughts were disrupted…

Mom… mom, where are you?

Tumpa was alone inside and it’s getting dark as well; she came rushing to find Tumpa in company of a lady of her age, slim and dignified, they were talking and laughing as if they knew each other for longtime. The lady, when she saw Dolon, smiled at her with folded hands in gesture of namaskar.

“Hello, my name is Malini, your neighbor. When I got to know of your arrival, I couldn’t wait to welcome you in this peaceful place.”

“Good that you have come, I am Dolon and you have already met my daughter Tumpa. I was wondering if and when we will get to know our neighbors. You need friends in a new place to survive. Let me make some tea for us, then we will sit and talk.”

“Please don’t bother about making tea, actually, I don’t take tea or any beverage, stopped taking, a long time ago. Please sit and let’s chat, you hardly meet anyone intelligent to talk.”

“Very true, sister, the morning passes with household work, then Tumpa comes back from school and plays alone while I read the books or magazine till my husband comes back. It’s a boring life being the wife of a police officer. Do you live close by?”

“Yes, been here for a long time… sometimes I feel suffocated not able to meet and talk with others. But what to do? Will have to stay put till the call comes…”

“What about your children?”

“One girl, same age as Tumpa…very shy, doesn’t want to show up in front of people. Will try to bring her along tomorrow.”

“Sure, send her in the afternoon after school, let the kids play and you can come once you finish your work. We will have a good time.”

“Very well, I must go now, it’s getting dark.”

“Sit for a while more, where’s your husband?”

“He works with the police.”

“Wow, what similarity, sister! Is he here in this city?”

“He was, but…”

“Okay, understood, he has been transferred to a new place and looking for a good place before calling you guys over. The department heads should show some empathy before signing the transfer orders, life becomes so difficult moving from one place to another and before you settle down, you are served your next posting.”

“Exactly, my life has become hell…”

Malini couldn’t finish her sentence and started sobbing. Without waiting further, she suddenly got up and left. Dolon heard the gate open as Malini disappeared in the darkness.

Almost immediately, Shubro came in and said, “What’s the matter, you haven’t switched on the lights? It’s dark outside. Where is Tumpa?”

“Oh, I didn’t realise talking with our neighbor Malini. You missed her by a whisker, nice, dignified woman, she left just before you came in. She has a daughter of Tumpa’s age, she will get her along tomorrow.” Dolon spoke as she switched on the lights.

“Wow, very nice, you found a friend on the first day itself. But who’s she? Where do they live?”

“Her name is Malini, lives nearby only. You know, her husband is also in police service. He was in your police station only but has been transferred, will take his family once he can arrange a suitable house.”

“He was posted here? What’s his name?”

“Oh crap, I forgot to ask his name, will find out tomorrow. Shall I make some tea for you?”

“Yes please, and also some snacks to go with it. It had been a very busy day, didn’t get time to have lunch even… there are two active gangs and they have declared war against each other… five murders in last two weeks…” Subhro entered the bedroom while talking.

“Just see, the little one, Tumpa is sleeping. Hey baby… Tumpa, wake up baby. You will be awake like an owl if you sleep now.”

The following day afternoon, Dolon was in the kitchen, preparing lunch when Tumpa appeared at the door and said, “Mom, give me some wheat dough.”

Dolon looked at her daughter with surprise, she had gone with Subhro in the morning for admission in the nearby Missionary School and was dropped back a little while ago.

“Why? What will you do with the dough?”

“I will go fishing.”

“Where will you go for fishing?”

“Why, at the pond behind our house.”

“I don’t think there are any fish in that stagnant water body.”

“Yes, there are, Juhi said she used to fish quite often. You just give me some dough.” Tumpa sounded a little impatient.

“But we don’t have fishing equipment, did your father buy you any?”

“No, I found them in the outhouse, cleaned them and they are ready for fishing.”

Dolon gave her a portion of dough from which she was making the chapati and Tumpa rushed out from the house. Dolon finished her cooking and laid down the table for lunch. She went to the rear of the house and from the porch saw Tumpa sitting on the bank of the pond, fishing rod in hand waiting patiently for the fish(s) to bite the bait. She silently went over to check on her. There were four medium sized fish lying on a newspaper next to her. She was whispering, “Hey Juhi, tell me when to pull… do you think the fish has bitten the bait?”

There was tension in the fishing wire and Tumpa instantly pulled the wire in a jerk… she caught another fish and was euphoric in her achievement. She noticed her mother.

“Mom, did you see how expertly I caught the fish? There are large number of fishes in this pond. Now on, we don’t have to buy fish from the market. Juhi has taught me how to fish.”

Dolon was taken aback, she said, “I have been watching you for some time now, where’s your friend Juhi? I didn’t see her.”

“What are you saying Mom? She was here a few moments back. She only helped me find the fishing rod from the outhouse and showed me how to put the bait and throw the line in the water. She must be hiding somewhere…she’s very shy.”

“Who’s Juhi? Your new friend from the school?”

“What? You forgot… yesterday Malini aunty mentioned about her daughter Juhi.”

“Oh, that’s very good. Please find her and bring her over, lunch is ready. And both of you wash up before joining at the table.”

After a while, Tumpa came alone, dejected.

“What happened? You couldn’t find her?”

“No Mom, I checked everywhere but she’s nowhere to be found.”

“Did you check under the bed or the cupboards? You said that she’s been to this house earlier, many times, she might be hiding in some corner.”

“She used live here, Mom.”

“Here, in this house? Was his father a big officer like your dad?”

“I don’t know that, she didn’t say anything about her father.”

“You are an idiot; you were together for so long and couldn’t ask where her father is or what’s his name? Do you know where they live now?”

Dolon picked up the bunch of fish that Tumpa had caught and said, “I will clean these and fry them. If Juhi comes, please bring her to the kitchen, will treat her with some sweets.”

Dolon going to the kitchen, was passing by the bedroom of Tumpa when she noticed that her bedsheet was in complete disarray and soiled with muddy little footprints. She was irritated but controlled herself for the time being. Tumpa will get the scolding later.

“Memsahib…memsahib…” Govind was calling from outside. Dolon became angry, he was supposed to get a maid in the morning for top work. She went out to see him, ready to scold.

“What happened Govind? Didn’t I tell you to get a house-help in the morning? And you have come alone without the maid!”

“Sorry Ma’am but Sir sent me to the railway station to buy the tickets. There was a long queue…”

“What ticket? For whom?”

“For you people. Sir asked me to give you this letter.” Govind extended his hand to give her the letter.

Dolon was taken aback; they have landed only a couple of days ago and Subhro is asking her to pack-up immediately. She thought of calling him for clarification but Subhro called before that and briefly explained that his brother had called to inform that their mother’s health has suddenly deteriorated, therefore is the urgency. However, to Dolon, it was not convincing because she had spoken her mother-in-law and she sounded quite cheerful and healthy.

“Mom, I am hungry, did you fry the fish?” Tumpa asked.

“Two minutes, it will be ready. Did you find your friend Juhi?”

“Yes, she was hiding in the outhouse. I asked her to join us for lunch but she declined saying she doesn’t eat fish anymore, not even her mother. She went away.”

Dolon dismissed Govind and went inside for lunch preparation.

Later, in the sleeper class when most co-passengers including Tumpa were sleeping, she couldn’t hold back any more and asked Subhro, “Are you awake?”

“Yes, you want to say something?”

“I spoke to Maa in the morning and sounded well, what happened to her? Is it serious?”

“I don’t know exactly but Abhro, my brother called up to say, Maa has taken ill in the morning and we should return at the earliest.”

“But we will return after a few days, why did we have to vacate that nice bungalow?”

“We will get a nicer place to say in the city, if we have to come back but definitely not in that house.”

“Why? Is it because your police station was far from there?”

“No, that’s not the problem.”

“Then? Both Tumpa and I had made such nice friends, that too of our age only. In fact Juhi, in that brief time, taught Tumpa how catch fish from the pond. And Malini was so gentle and intelligent. Now, I don’t know if we will meet them again or not…”

“It is better, if you don’t meet them again, ever.”

“What are you saying? Please explain.” Dolon became agitated and sat on her berth.

“You probably won’t be able to digest the truth.”

“What is there not to believe? You probably will say that you have found that they are not good people and we should avoid mixing with them. But I know they are good people. Malini herself came to welcome us on the very first evening.”

“Okay, listen to me very carefully. I checked in the neighborhood, nobody knew anything about Malini and her daughter Juhi, never heard of them. My people checked every house in the vicinity but they were not to be found.” Subhro, sipped a little water and then continued…

“You said her husband was posted in the same police station, so I enquired in the office but no one remembers him. Isn’t that strange? Then I called for the records and found that almost thirty years ago there was an Inspector by the name Nripen Das who’s wife was Malini and they had a daughter named Juhi. One evening, both the mother and daughter were found dead under suspicious circumstances. Probably the mother poisoned her daughter before taking her own life.”

Dolon, wide eyed was visibly shaken, her throat drying up, with great difficulty, she asked, “What happened to the father?”

“There was a brief note that Inspector Nripen Das was suspended in a bribery case. I could not probe further because a warring faction in a land encroachment case came and I got busy with them. But, honestly, I neither know what happened to Nripen Das nor want to know. Happy that we are going back home, unscathed.”

Posted on by Aranyascope · 1 Comment

The Cyclist

Mayank Sharma liked the arrangement from the moment he saw the little red single storied brickhouse with its own garden encircling the house like an embankment. Besides, it was nestled amongst the pine trees adjacent to the forested land. The owner of the little house was an elderly couple, the old woman said, “We normally don’t let out our room but my husband is suffering from paralysis and we need the money for his treatment.” Mayank had no issues with the money she asked for because the client would pay for his visit including the boarding and lodging. He came for the audit of the accounts of a factory in this otherwise sleepy industrial town. He asked his associate from the client side to pay the lady for his three days stay. He decided to eat at the factory canteen not bothering the old lady.

Mayank followed the lady to his assigned room. As they entered the room, she said, “This used to be my husband’s work room before he became paralyzed. Now, I have shifted him to the inside room because he wouldn’t let me close that window ever. The rains would lash the window during monsoon and chilly breeze wafted inside during the winters…not good for the ailing old man.”

Mayank approached the window which opened to the forested landscape, a long winding narrow road going from the house to the horizon beyond the small hillock at the bend half a kilometer away through the lined pine trees. The scenic beauty was breathtaking. Then his eyes caught an old canvas hung next to the window depicting the beauty outside with an additional feature of a cyclist coming towards the house or standing just beyond the small hillock at the bend. The figure was too small to see any details. Sensing his interest in the painting, the old lady spoke, “That was painted by my husband long ago, when he and his friend came to this town to teach in the local missionary school. They would often go cycling through the woods in the evening.” Mayank noticed that the canvas is very old and at places the fabric is crumbling, may be because of termites.

The old lady, before taking leave from Mayank, checked if he liked the room. There was no reason for Mayank to not liking the room, it was well lighted and airy with a large double bed from where one could see through the window into the far horizon and a study table with the chair facing the window completed the furnishing. The bedside stand had a water jug with a glass and clock. In any case he will only be spending three nights here in the room as he will mostly be at the factory auditing the accounts of his client.

Mayank brought his suitcase from the car and quickly changed into fresh clothing and left with his associate to begin the auditing. His whole day passed engrossed in work; he returned to the little red brickhouse around 9 o’clock. The iron gate made a clanking noise as he opened it, except for the wind blowing through the pine leaves, the surroundings are dead drop silent. The old lady appeared at the door probably awakened by the sound of the car and the opening of the gate. When she saw Mayank, she went back inside. Mayank had his dinner at the factory canteen, so after changing into his nightwear, he switched off the lights and hit the bed…soon he was fast asleep.

Mayank woke up around midnight, maybe because he slept earlier than his usual time, the moonlight through the skylight above his bed was flooding the room especially the canvas. He was looking at it and suddenly realized it was looking different than what he saw in the morning… the cyclist in the painting was no longer at the bend but much closer, in fact, he was pedaling slowly and had reached the side of the hillock. Mayank concentrated on the image but the man stayed there only though he seemed to be pedaling slowly. After a while, Mayank slept again only to be woken up early in the morning by the crying of the old man in the adjacent room. The skies had lighted up and birds have started chirping in the woods. Mayank decided to pay a visit to the ailing old man before leaving for work in the morning.

As he was getting ready, Mayank glanced at the canvas, everything was in its place as he saw first, the cyclist was at the bend, static as before. He laughed at himself for imagining things, how is it even possible for a painted image to move on the canvas!!

The old lady was standing on the veranda as he emerged from his room, she asked politely, “Hope, you had a good nightly sleep without any disturbance…”

“Yes, I had a good sleep.” Mayank replied and then asked, “I heard agonizing cry in the morning, hope your husband is okay now… can I see him?”

“His pains aggravate around the full moon and new moon, last night he slept lightly often waking up in pain. He is sleeping now but you can come and see him.”

Mayank followed the lady into the back of the house to the adjacent room where a frail man slept on the large cot. The skeletal body often trembled in spasm, the face once belonged to a handsome man but now wrinkled with unshaven uneven beards and balding scalp. There were no windows in the room, the air flowed from the only door from the passage. After spending few minutes with the old couple in that room, Mayank left for the factory as his associate honked from the road.

Mayank remained busy in work throughout the day and was dropped back late in the evening to the little red brickhouse. As he entered through the gate, he could hear the same agonizing cry of the old man. The excruciating pain has become unbearable for him. Mayank felt a sense of helplessness. The crying continued as he prepared to hit the bed, he switched off the light and after a while the crying subsided, the painkillers probably started working.

Mayank was woken up, past midnight by the crying of the old man. The room was flooded by the moonlight, the view through the window was clear too, the moonlight had created a surreal effect on the surroundings…he could see the winding road through the pine forest clearly including the hillock in the far distance. Automatically, his eyes drifted from the window to the canvas, everything was as before, except the cyclist, he seemed to have cycled closer now, well past the hillock. The image was much clearer today, the cyclist was wearing britches with a pump shoe, a hat covering the upper half of his face. He was pedaling slowly coming to the red brickhouse.

Mayank, got up from the bed switching on the lights, closely examined the painting, nothing was amiss, all the elements were in their original places. He sighed at his foolish thoughts and slept again.

He was woken up in the morning, again by the loud crying of the old man from the next room. Mayank came out of his room and found the old lady resting on the veranda chair, her face revealed that she didn’t get any sleep or rest throughout the night, taking care of her husband. She smiled feebly seeing Mayank.

“His condition has deteriorated, is it?”

“Yes, he is in lot of pain since last evening.”

“Did you call for the doctor?”

“There’s no point calling the doctor, they have given the best and strongest medicine… nothing more can they do. It is only matter of tonight, if he survives…” her voice trailed off.

The agonizing constant crying of the old man filled the otherwise serene atmosphere throughout the morning. Mayank got ready for work, all the time feeling sorry for the old couple. He prayed for the pain relief of the old man and left for the factory, today is his last day and he must finish the auditing.

Mayank remained busy completing the audit and by the time he reached his rented accommodation, it was quite late, close to 11 o’clock. Being the full moon night, the surroundings are flooded with moonlight. The pine leaves fluttering in breeze and crickets chirping in the distance broke the eerie silence of the night. No one in the house stirred even when Mayank opened the gate. He thought of checking on the old man but decided against it, the old couple must be sleeping after a exhausting day. He decided to speak to the lady before leaving for home in the morning.

Mayank was not just tired but exhausted, he quickly changed into his nightwear and packed up his bag as much as possible leaving the essential stuff he would need in the morning. He stood in front of the window to soak in the beauty of the nature one last time. The full moon had flooded the mother earth with full glory, the breeze crisscrossing through the pine leaves was creating the background music while the trees danced in celebration. He closed the window cutting off the illumination from the moonlight hoping to sleep without getting up in the middle of the night because of the light. Within minutes of hitting the pillow, he had drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Mayank, for no apparent reason woke up, adjusting to the near dark room, he looked at the clock on the bedside table, the radium coated needles announced the time to be 3 am. Just then he thought he heard the clanking of the bicycle bell. He got up from the bed and without switching on the light, slowly opened the window. He stood still by the window, unable to move, outside on the winding road, very close to the red brickhouse, the cyclist from the canvas was standing and ringing the bell… once, twice, thrice, pause and then repeat. Suddenly, a man appeared from the house and walked towards the cyclist. They spoke softly, probably greeting each other and then the man climbed on the cycle. The cyclist turned the bike and started pedaling back to the hillock and beyond…soon they disappeared round the bend. Mayank waited for some more time but none of them returned.

The chatter outside his room, woke him up in the morning. The memory of last night’s events became vivid. He came out to find a group of people in serious discussion and in the distance, the old lady sitting amongst few females. He could figure out from their demeanor that the man of the house is no more. He reached out to the old lady and placed a sympathetic hand on her. She looked up to him and said, “My husband is no more.” A few tears drop rolled down her cheek. “In a way, it is good for he was suffering a lot for the last few days” she continued, “Actually, he became unwell a year back, when his best friend with whom he had come here and settled down in their youth, suddenly passed away after a brief illness. Every evening, they used ride in a bicycle on that road through the pine forest. He couldn’t get over the sudden death of his friend, he had a paralytic stroke. Once he said that he saw his friend waiting at the corner of that road and calling him to join. It was a full moon night. I got scared and moved him to the inner room but he would become restless on a full moon night.”

“When did it happen?”

“The doctor said that he breathed his last around 3 am.” The old lady broke down completely.

Mayank came back to his room and stood in front of the canvas. Everything seemed to be in order except the cyclist had vanished from the frame. The termites have eaten up that space. Finally, the cyclist has taken his friend for a long journey on the winding road through the pine forest, never to return again.

Posted on by Aranyascope

Good Friends

The sun was on a mood to set on the horizon of the city park where Pralay Nath, retired Deputy Commissioner of the Municipal Corporation was taking his evening walk when he noticed Pradyuman Singh, his old friend and recent enemy coming towards him, in the distance. Pralay Nath’s first instinct was to change course to avoid him, remembering the events of yesterday, but there was no other way to go. He dreaded another confrontation with Pradyuman, he can still feel the pain on his left jaws.

When Pradyuman came close, Pralay Nath realised that he was wearing the same outfit as yesterday that was the moot for the altercation. Pradyuman, a retired accountant from a Public Sector Undertaking (PSU) never really bothered about dressing up and would come to the clubhouse casually dressed often in ill-fitting clothes. So, yesterday when he came to the club in a nicely cut suit and tie, Pralay Nath couldn’t resist to throw a jibe towards Pradyuman.

“Hey Pradyuman, are you getting married once again?”

“No, what makes you think so?”

“You are dressed for the occasion, isn’t it?”

“I am going for a marriage reception, others at home are getting ready so I came here. My son will pick me up from here only.” Pradyuman replied and then added, “By the way, what news of your son, he is still not talking to you?”

“That’s none of your business, you scoundrel.” Pralay Nath retorted.

The last question hit Pralay Nath severely because that’s an issue which is more painful for him than his arthritis. Pralay Nath, being a high-ranking official had gathered wealth both legally as well as illegally and the son, an idealist hated him for his under-the-table bribery. The son being an engineer had moved to another city working for a multinational company, cutting all relations with his father, though maintains a cordial relation with his mother. In the present times, the mother is visiting her son, leaving Pralay Nath alone in the city.

The arguments soon turned ugly and fisty cuff ensured…Pralay Nath pushed Pradyuman on the ground. He got up quickly and punched Pralay Nath on the jaws. Their friends, initially flummoxed, quickly separated them before things could go haywire. Both left the club in hurry. Now they again facing each other without any bystander in the evening.

Pradyuman came close and with folded hands said, “Brother Pralay, I am extremely sorry for my behaviour of yesterday evening. We are friends since last so many years, I should not have reacted so   aggressively.”

Pralay Nath, for a few moments was speechless because he was expecting further confrontation, instead, Pradyuman is apologising. He composed himself and said, “No, no, you shouldn’t be sorry alone, I am too responsible. I shouldn’t have said what I said. Moreover, I shouldn’t have torn your nice jacket. Please forgive me.”

“That was the reason why I came looking for you. Yesterday I went back home to change clothes but my son caught me the torn jacket and got to know about our scuffle. He is hell bent on filing an FIR against you. He’s not listening to me anymore.”

“So, what do I do now?” Pralay Nath was a worried man now…what if the police arrest him and put him in jail, the wife is also not in town…

“Let us go together to the police station and file an application that all disputes between us are settled amicably now. If my son, Dilbagh comes to file an FIR against you, they should not entertain him at all.”

“Yes, all differences between us are settled now. Afterall, we are good friends. I really felt bad after our altercations and went home straight, switching off the phones and slept without eating dinner.”

“And we missed going to the wedding reception, trying to pacify my son… he was all set to go to the police station to lodge an FIR against you, last night only, with great difficulty I stopped him but don’t know if he has already done it today. Let’s go immediately.”

The two friends parted ways from the police station for their homes. Pralay Nath felt relieved coming home, he poured himself a whiskey and finished off the last evening’s dinner.

He woke up with constant ringing of the doorbell. The wall clock showed the time of 2 am. Who could be knocking at this ungodly hour? Pralay Nath became worried… is it, Dilbagh? He hasn’t listened to his father and now has come to avenge. With such dreaded thoughts, he opened the door to find the Inspector whom he had met earlier with Pradyuman.

“Y-you Sir? What happened?”

“Yes, it’s me.” He turned towards the constable and ordered him to fetch Dilbagh Singh from the police car.

“Why Dilbagh? Didn’t we tell you that all differences between Pradyuman and me are settled?”

“Yes, you did so.”

So, the petition did not work, Dilbagh must have put pressure on the police to arrest him at this hour. What will I do now? Pralay Nath was on the verge of collapse when Dilbagh entered the room. Pralay Nath was shocked to see Dilbagh; he was wearing a dhoti and gamchha typically worn if someone was coming from a funeral. Dilbagh was visibly in grief, his father is no more, he’s coming from the cremation ground.

“What are you saying son? I met Pradyuman this evening only in the city park from where together we went to the police station to file a petition to void your appeal for an FIR against me…”

“What are you saying Uncle? Did he really meet you yesterday evening and went together, you went to the police station?” Dilbagh was visibly shaking when he spoke. There was a fear writ on his face.

“Yes, Pradyuman only insisted, the inspector sahib is my witness.”

“Yes, I have been telling Dilbagh that you two had come to the police station to file the petition but he is not believing me. He came directly from the cremation ground wanting to file an FIR against you, I showed him your petition”, the inspector responded.

Pralay Nath felt a shooting pain in his chest, he sat down on the couch clutching his chest. He looked at the inspector blankly and said, “You, too is saying that Pradyuman is dead, he is no more? My dear friend passed away and nobody informed me!”

“How do you expect to be informed? His son is accusing you for his death. He is claiming that you are responsible for his father’s death. You guys had a fight day before evening in the club which was witnessed by many others.”

“Yes, we did fight like children” Pralay Nath suddenly became excited and looking at Dilbagh, said, “Listen Dilbagh, we, Pradyuman and I have been friends for years and such fracas cannot take that away, we loved each other deeply, you have to believe that.”

“How can I believe, Uncle? The day before evening Dad came home with stress and said he’s not feeling well. We decided to stay back not going to the wedding reception. Later, at night Dad’s condition deteriorated and we had him admitted in the hospital. This afternoon around 3 pm he passed away due to severe cardiac attack. I am coming after performing his last rites.”

Terror stricken Pralay Nath shouted, “Three in the afternoon… are you saying my friend Pradyuman passed away in the afternoon?”

Dilbagh nodded his head in affirmation. Pralay Nath looked blankly at him then at the wall ahead. His thoughts kept hovering that no FIR has been lodged, he is not getting arrested…he will stay home, alone and his best friend is no more… will he join him for a chitchat like olden days? He is alone in his home… the thoughts kept repeating in his mind.

Slowly, the lights in the eyes of Pralay Nath faded out, his vision became still.

Posted on by Aranyascope

The Horseman of Pahalgam

As far as eyes could see from left to the right, the majestic Himalayan range of mountains stood tall and erect creating a display wall for the green valley below; the Leader River flows with fury, the feisty current could take an elephant with ease on its wake. This was Pahalgam, way back in the eighties, a picturesque town of J&K and I instantly fell in love with place.  

As a Brand Manager of few popular brands of an Indian FMCG, it was mandated for the Brand Managers to visit the markets, every month for at least a week to understand the consumer pulse. It was in 1989, I was visiting the Jammu market and due to some local festivities, the markets were closed for 2 days so I decided to visit Srinagar and Pahalgam. My colleague, the Area Manager arranged my stay at Pahalgam and Srinagar.

In those days, Pahalgam was a sleepy town scantly populated with few hotels and shops selling local artifacts and woollen shawls. Not much of traffic except the regular movement of military convoys and trucks carrying provisions to the remote areas of the state. The town would come alive with the rising sun and become sleepy after sundown, by 9 o’clock, it felt like midnight.

Pahalgam happened to be on the route to Amarnath, a Hindu pilgrimage site, via Chandanwadi, the bus load of pilgrims going there would often shout out “Amarnath Ji ki Jai”, every time they pass through the town and the locals, irrespective of their faith would respond similarly.

The Spring has ushered in the wave of pilgrims to the Amarnath many of them had put up makeshift tents on the banks of Leader River for the night breaking the silence of the night by their constant chatter.

I loved the walk by the river and would see a young boy of not more than 10-12 years riding a large horse of Arab breed throughout the day. He would wheeze past me to the horizon and be back quickly, the routine would continue for 10-15 rounds at a time. I would be reminded of the young warriors of the bygone era who came to this land from far away and made this their home.

The hotel owner, Gurbaksh Singh, a third generation Sikh settled in Pahalgam with thriving business in timber and apple orchards besides the hotel, walking alongside spoke, “The young boy on the horse is Irfan Ali, son of Rahmat Ali. They have a number of horses that take the pilgrims to Amarnath. Although their faith is Islam, they are devout of Amarnath ji… Irfan is getting trained to take pilgrims next year.”

“The horse and the rider seem to have developed a deep understanding…their movements are well coordinated. The boy is already a seasoned jockey.” I replied.

“You should have stayed a little longer to enjoy the spring time. But if you really want to see the beauty of the Kashmir valley, come during the winter months, its ethereal.” Gurbaksh commented.

Later that evening, after a dinner of typical Kashmiri cuisine, I settled the hotel dues because my taxi would be coming very early in the morning to take me to Srinagar. There was chill in the air which prompted me to hurry up to the coziness of the room. As I was preparing to sleep, I heard the rhythmic sound of clanking of horseshoe on the road; from the window I could see Irfan riding the horse with the ease of an expert even in the chilly weather outside. He is a brat; the parents must control him. I thought aloud.

I would have loved to stay a little longer but I wasn’t on holiday. I joined with my Area Manager in Jammu after a day stopover in Srinagar, staying in a houseboat on the Dal Lake. In my mind I knew, this hurried visit was just a recce for a leisurely visit at a later day.

The leisurely visit happened after 30 years, post my retirement. My school classmates, Gora, Pulki and Topshe joined along with the spouses for a 5-night trip to Srinagar, Pahalgam and Gulmarg. Our arrangements were made on the houseboat at Srinagar, the same Pahalgam Lodge, now managed by the sons of Gurbaksh Singh. The Gulmarg was planned as a day trip from Srinagar.

The beauty of Pahalgam remains the same, in fact the winter snow has enhanced it many folds. The Leader River was calmer with trickle of water flowing due to the snow in the upper riches. The river banks were devoid of the pilgrim’s tents. We loved the long walks on the banks of the river and even venturing into the river where the water was shallow.

In all these beauties, I was reminded of Irfan, the daredevil horse rider… he must have grown up to a handsome man, married with kids, soon they will be training like him too.

We had a wonderful 2 days in Pahalgam, exploring the touristy places, the women even rode the horses along the banks of the river. The weather remained chilly all through our stay, the sun never showed up from behind the clouds creating a misty suspense, especially in the evenings. We came back in the hotel and packed up for our departure in the morning, had our dinner and retired to bed.

I don’t know what was the time but I was awakened by the cranking sound of horse-shoe on the metaled road and a roar of a truck engine immediately followed by a loud noise of collision right in front of the hotel. I got up and rushed down to the reception to find the manager sleeping on the sofa at the reception. I woke him up, “Accident happened in front of the hotel.” I shouted at the groggy manager. He looked at me perplexed for few moments then calmly said, “Nothing happened Sir, you please go back to your room and sleep.”

“But I heard a horse galloping down the road and then a truck hitting it, there was loud cry of the horse and of a child, right across the hotel”.

“No Sir, nothing like that happened” he looked at the steward who had joined us and asked him, “Did you hear any commotion outside?”

“No Sir”

“Are you guys deaf? It must be the son or brother of Irfan riding the horse at this late hour. I remember Irfan used to ride the horse at odd hours too.”

“You knew Irfan?” The manager looked at me in surprise.

“Yes, I saw him riding a large horse when I came here many years ago. He was about 10-12 years old then”.

“I am sorry Sir, Irfan died about 30 years ago while riding a horse at night… a military truck hit them from behind. It happened just in front of this hotel. That was a full moon night just like it is today. Many of our guests have witnessed the recreation of that unfortunate event on the full moon day, ever since.”

I was dumbstruck, came back to the room to find Deepika sleeping peacefully as were the others, no one had even stirred, only I was woken up by the crashing noise…why? I wondered. Is it because only I had some earlier connection with Irfan and he wanted me to have a closure by telling me about his death.

Posted on by Aranyascope · 3 Comments

Dil-Dosti-Yaarana

After a sumptuous dinner and warm welcome by Indrajit and Jagrata, we left for the Service Apartment, EcoSuites by Stayvilla, arranged by Indrajit, about 3 km from his place. EcoSuites, Service Apartment has three 2-bedroom+lounge units per floor, newly constructed, albeit a bit inside…entry through a narrow lane but has car parking for 5-6 vehicles. The rooms are spacious with kettle for making tea/coffee, running hot n cold water and big screen television. I would say, it’s a 3+ star accommodation, rare to find at the price negotiated by my friend. We were informed that room service is available too, round the clock. Initially, we were booked for 2 rooms with extra bed for the 5th person but we got the third room as well. I had the room all to myself as other eligible members refused to share with me fearing my snoring which sounds like the roar of a lion!!!

In the morning, we checked with Indro if he can arrange for a 7-seater vehicle for all of us to travel together; after a while he called up to inform that practically all the bigger commercial passenger vehicles have gone to Prayagraj for Mahakumbh, which is true because we have seen them not only in Prayagraj but on the highways as well. Instead of hiring another smaller vehicle and take two of them, we decided to adjust in our Jeep Compass, Sudipta would sit in the front passenger seat while four of us would manage within the rear seat… Dil mein jagah honi chahiye baki sab adjust ho jata hai…

I wanted to have Dhuska with Aloo-Chhola Sabji, but it wasn’t readily available, so we settled for stuffed paratha and egg with hot tea for breakfast.

DAY ONE (Thursday 20.02.25)

Our first destination was Patratu Valley (I have visited this earlier with Indro), the serpentine road with breathtaking view at every turn makes the journey feel amazing. We stopped at the Patratu View Point to take some pictures of the valley below with the mountain range as backdrop but unfortunately, the day turned out to be cloudy hiding the mountains from view. Anyways, we clicked few selfies and pictures of us with the valley in the background.

There were few vendors selling street foods, we had the phoochka or golgappa from one such guy, the taste was average, lacked the punch associated with the item. I also had a plate of Aloo-tikki with Channa… the Channa tasted tangy and nice but the tikki was nowhere near the famed Delhi version. We had then rounded off with Amul ice-creams before going down to the valley to experience the Patratu Lake created by the dam.

There were a flock of gulls near the shore enjoying swim, occasionally fluttering their wings to hop over the water, apparently, they were fed by the tourists visiting the lake. A few of the tourists were taking boat rides as well, the speedboats creating a jet-spray in their wake reminded me of my boat ride in the expansive sea in Thailand. We bought the tickets for the boat ride and were picked up by the waiting boat which took us to the island on the lake at the far side, took a complete round and a smaller circle and we were back to the shore. It was a less than 10 minutes ride but thoroughly enjoyable, giving us a childlike thrill.

Our next destination was Palani Falls situated 11 km or 22 minutes’ drive away from our location. During monsoon and immediately afterwards, the sight is wonderful but as this winter had very scant rains, the water had completely dried and one only see the dark patches on the rocks marking the path of the water fall. We were disappointed. We spent few minutes at the gate deciding on our next destination, Indro suggested, Tuti Jharna Temple near Ramgarh off NH20, a 1.5 hour drive. Topshe took the wheel and I shifted to the rear seat to take nap.

I woke up when Topshe was navigating through a very narrow village lane of Sandi, reminding me of the numerous trips I had made through such village roads while dropping or picking up my son from his university, SNU situated on the GT Road, Chithara village.   

We parked nearer to the temple complex in the middle of makeshift vendor stalls, empty but likely to come alive in the evening and walked to the temple complex. The atmosphere was serene and calm in the afternoon with a sound of water flowing in a stream coming from the distance becoming more prominent as we got closer to the temple. What struck us is the ancient structure of the temple blending seamlessly with the surrounding landscape. With anticipation we stepped inside, eager to uncover the stories and legends that had stood the test of time (please read at https://indroyc.com).

Tuti Jharna Temple… Continuous water flowing on the Shiv Linga.

The Tuti Jharna temple is renowned for a fascinating natural phenomenon—water flows continuously over the Shiva Linga, yet no visible source can be found. The mystery has baffled visitors for generations, with no scientific explanation to fully account for it. Some say it’s an underground spring, while others believe it to be a divine marvel. Regardless of the reason, the sight was mesmerizing—the steady flow of water over the ancient Shiva Linga, the rhythmic sound creating an almost meditative atmosphere. Standing there, we couldn’t help but be drawn into the temple’s serene and mystical aura. Whether science had an answer or not, didn’t matter—we were content simply to soak in the divine energy that seemed to permeate the place.

The handpump just outside the temple, water gushing out without any human intervention.

Our next destination was Chhinnamasta Kali Temple situated in Rajrappa, 38 km or 50 minutes’ drive from our location.

Nestled amidst the verdant hills of Jharkhand, the Chhinnamasta Temple in Rajrappa is a popular pilgrimage site for devotees of Shaktism. The temple is dedicated to Goddess Chhinnamasta, also known as Prachanda Chandika, who is revered as the embodiment of power, courage, and wisdom.

The journey to Rajrappa is not just a physical one but also a spiritual voyage through time and nature. The Damodar River, with its broad and flat valley, tells a geological story that spans millions of years. The Bhairavi or Bhera River, cascading from the Ranchi plateau, joins the Damodar, creating a picturesque waterfall and a sacred confluence. This spot, steeped in legend and myth, is where Goddess Chhinnamasta is said to have appeared before Lord Shiva and Parvati. This location has a special significance. It is at the union of Bhairavi nadi (female) coming from the top, meeting Damodar nada (male) signifying vipareeta rati (opposite copulation) pose as described in Devi Chhinnamasta’s dhyana (vipareeta rataturam). Here Bhairavi is active Shakti and Damodar is the male passive member of rati action. Damodar is very calm and Bhairavi is an active member.

Chhinnamasta (ছিন্নমস্তা) temple, dedicated to Goddess Chinnamasta (छिन्नमस्ता), is a marvel of Tantric architecture. Adorned with intricate carvings and sculptures depicting scenes from Hindu mythology, the temple stands as a testament to ancient craftsmanship. The main shrine houses the idol of Goddess Chhinnamasta, bedecked with flowers, jewels, and offerings from devotees. The temple complex also includes smaller shrines dedicated to various deities and a holy pond for ritual cleansing. (Source: Indrosphere, https://Indroyc.com)

My friends, when they came to Ranchi for Judhajit’s (only son of Indrajit & Jagrata) wedding, they missed out visiting the temple due to tremendous rush on the occasion of Akshaya Tritiya. However, this time we could actually go inside the Garbha-griha and offer our puja to Maa Chhinnamasta. When the Purohit asked the name of the Jajman, I automatically mentioned “Deepika”, perhaps because she’s the most important person in my life or perhaps I have reached a state of mind where the desires have ceased to exist… I am at peace with my current existence. I know, my friend, Madhav or Keshav is always with me (even when I am writing this) and keep guiding, removing obstacles from my path, like ensuring we could enter the city of Prayagraj, unhindered when many others faced daunting task of walking many miles to the Triveni Sangam. The Supreme One, often tests my resilience too, teaching me valuable lessons of life.

Just to clear doubts from the minds of those reading this, I generally avoid all ritualistic worshipping. I am agnostic by nature and thoughts. I believe, Madhav or the Supreme One is omnipresent in my life by manifesting in the form of friends and family who are wise and full of empathy, always guiding towards the path of Dharma. I am lucky.

After a very satisfying darshan of the Vigraha, we left for our hotel, dropping Indro at his home to freshen up, promising to return after an hour or so to devour another true Bong dinner. We had insisted that we take them out for dinner but Indro sighting the health of Jagrata had turned it down. Moreover, he said that since we are his guests, it is his right to feed us at least one meal a day. We couldn’t argue further and accepted his invite.

Jagrata, dished out another spread of true blue Bong culinary affair consisting of Shukto, Lal Shak-Posto, Sojne Phuler Batichocchori, Lau Chingri, Ilish Machher Jhol (Egg Curry for me), Sada Bhat & Nolen Gurer Rosogolla. Even as I write, my mouth is watering up…

We spent couple hours with them chatting and having a gala time, telling stories of our exploits during our school days and all the merriments we had at the weddings of our sons, Judhajit and Ayush.

DAY TWO (21.02.25)

On our last day in Ranchi, Indro suggested we go to Dassam Falls and then to the 16-Arm Durga Temple popularly known as Prachin Kalin Solah Bhuji Maa Dewri Mandir, through Taimara Ghati.It was a 68km or 1.5-hour journey from Indro’s home through Ranchi Ring Road and then NH33 or TATA Marg. This particular stretch of the road is alleged to be one of the top ten haunted roads of the world. And did we experience anything weird or paranormal?

From the Ranchi Ring Road, we took the exit to NH33 and Indro informed that up ahead, the stretch is known to be haunted though he had never experienced anything spooky. He informed that many travellers have on record said that their watch stopped or their vehicle got stalled in the middle of the road, some even confirmed sighting apparition of a veiled woman clad in white saree. We all became interested and extra alert to spot anything unusual that could be termed spooky. Just to tease my friends, I told them that our watches have suddenly leaped forward from 11:45 to 12 noon. They all checked their watches and were shocked.

Though, Indro had been on this stretch, particularly for Dassam Falls and Dewri Temple and knew the way to both places, the face of the road had changed since his last visit, so we had Google Maps directing us. All was going well when suddenly, the Google Map on the car screen went for a wild dance, it kept re-routing on a single straight road. We thought, it was because of network issue but all the phones showed full strength of the signal. We kept going straight for a while and then the Google Map became alive and directed us to take a u-turn after 3 more km; we had effectively overshot our right turn to Dassam Falls Road by almost 10-12 km. Why it happened, I don’t know, whether it has anything to do with paranormal activity or simply a momentary loss of GPS signal, I leave it to the readers to decide.

The Dassam Falls gets it’s name from the fact that during and after the monsoon, the water falls in 10 different streams from the rock. Dassam Waterfalls, at this time of the year was not the thunderous spectacle as it is during the monsoon, but still held a quiet, undeniable majesty. The water tumbled gracefully down the rugged rocks, splitting into multiple shimmering ribbons that caught the sunlight, creating a mesmerizing display. The verdant backdrop of dense forests framed the falls perfectly, adding to their serene beauty. We spent some time at different viewing platforms taking pictures, going down to the base for the majestic view of the cascading water falling down the rock-face. While coming up, I counted the steps, they are 206 steps from the base to the top surface. A good exercise for the 60-plus youngsters and it called for refreshment as well. We had the orange papaya, a local cultivation and wonderfully ripe n sweet tasting. We also bought Wild Berries (Indian Jujube), 500gm for just Rs.10/-. Coming back home, I made a tangy chutney of it using date-jaggery. We also had freshly made veggie fritters (pakodas) paired with hot masala tea. A family of monkey was following us from base in the hope of getting food but we had none to offer, disappointed they went after a young couple who were having something more interesting for the monkey family. While we were enjoying the fritters a chicken with 5-6 chicks wandered near us pecking at the food they could only see.

Our next destination was the famous Dewri Temple of 16-bhuja Maa Durga. On the way, stopped for a moment at the open roof temple of Maa Kali & Hanuman. The idols were out in the open as if to oversee the travellers on the road below and assure them a safe journey.

In the tranquil outskirts of Tamar, a quaint village nestled along the Jamshedpur-Ranchi Highway, lies a haven of divinity, the Deori Mandir. This sacred abode is home to Maa Deori, the revered sixteen-armed manifestation of Goddess Durga. As I revisit this timeless sanctuary after a prolonged hiatus, memories surge forth, weaving a tapestry of spirituality and folklore. Durga is a warrior goddess, and she is depicted to express her martial skills. Her iconography typically resonates with these attributes, where she rides a lion or a tiger, and has between eight and eighteen hands, each holding a weapon to destroy and create. The main attraction is that the idol is having sixteen hands, normally goddess Durga is seen with eight or ten hands. At the heart of Deori Mandir lies its pièce de résistance – the idol of Goddess Durga, bedecked with sixteen resplendent arms. This unique portrayal, deviating from the conventional depictions, exudes an aura of martial prowess and divine grace. Legends intertwined with the temple’s existence narrate sagas from epochs past, tracing its origins to the era of the Mahabharata.

Among the myriad narratives enshrined within its ancient walls, one resonates with the valour of Emperor Ashoka (Reigned ca. 268 – ca. 232 BCE) and his entreaty for divine intervention during the Kalinga War (ca. 260 BCE). The saga of a visionary king, stirred by celestial dreams, unveils the temple’s hidden sanctum amidst dense foliage, echoing the whims of destiny and devotion. According to folklore, a king of Tamar, believed to be in the 18th century,  once saw a dream. The goddess told him that there was a temple in Deori, where she must be worshipped. Villagers, as directed by the king, cleared a forested patch to find a small temple with a stone statue of Durga. Ever since the deity is worshipped here.

Legend has it that whoever has tried to alter the structure of the temple has had to face the wrath of the gods and suffer consequences. Therefore, new construction is being done from outside keeping the original temple intact. (Source: Indrosphere, https://indroyc.com)

There was market place just outside the temple courtyard where the aboriginal or Adivasis from the nearby villages gathered to sell their produce. The veggies were absolutely fresh from the farm and many kinds of greens which I had never seen before. They were selling different kinds of lentils too, unpolished, unadulterated besides superfoods like quinoa and millets. I bought the Arhaar Dal and raw Turmeric from a lady. Sudipta was still drooling over the Lau-Chingri and Sojne phuler Chocchori, she bought both to take back home and surprise the children with culinary delights.

On our way back, we stopped at roadside restaurant, Panchvati Restaurant, near the Surya Temple, Bundu,primarily to use the restroom and have tea. As I was parking the Jeep, I saw a signage that said “Desi Bakre ka Mans Milta Hai Yahan” meaning Country Goat Meat available here. This intrigued me because, I have heard of “desi murga” as opposed to “broiler chicken” but didn’t know that such differentiation exists in the mutton category as well. Indro checked at the counter and we ordered for two plates of that with Tanduri Roti besides onion pakodas and tea. Whether it was a native or foreign goat, the mutton preparation was delicious with succulent, melt-in-the-mouth pieces of soft mutton. We thoroughly enjoyed the food and the break.

One of Pulak’s cousin lives in Ranchi whom he wanted to meet even if briefly, so on our way to the hotel, we dropped him in Doranda, a populous locality of Ranchi, very close to the MECON Housing Society famous for the residence of M S Dhoni, ex-captain of Indian Cricket Team on who’s life a biographical movie was made few years ago. Indro showed us the flat where he lived besides the school he attended and the football ground where he intended to become a footballer before destiny made him one of the iconic cricketers of this century.

We reached back to our hotel after dropping Indro to his home. After freshening up, I packed my stuff keeping the nightwear and a fresh set of clothes for our long journey to Varanasi enroute to home. Thereafter, putting my phone to charge, I took a quick nap before Gora came in to say it was time to visit Indro’s home for another dinner, this time prepared by his son, Judha and daughter-in-law, Tania. In effect, he had ensured we always have a home-cooked meal, at least once a day during our stay in Ranchi, besides ensuring we don’t spend any money on dinner.

The culinary spread, once again, a glorious spread of traditional Bengali delicacies, laced with the love and affection of the chef and simplicity of home-cooked delish. The fragrant Basanti Pulao, with its saffron-hued grains and subtle sweetness, paired with Guri Aloor Torkari, a tangy, mildly spicy and flavourful dry small potato curry (Jagrata’s creation). This was followed by the aromatic brilliance of Murg Kalimirch with creamy gravy with a hint of black pepper that tingled in your mouth, a delightful dish by Chef Judhajit. The hearty meal was rounded off by my favourite Lal Mishti Doi, it’s creamy and mesmerising taste of Nolen Gur kept lingering in our mouth long after our meal was done with.

More than the dinner, it was a celebration of friendship, shared histories, and the irreplaceable joy of gathering around a table filled with good food and great company. No restaurant, no matter how fancy, could ever match the warmth of a homecooked meal. I am sure, we all will remember our Ranchi Reunion as the epitome of Dil, Dosti & Yaarana till our last breath. We can never put to words our feelings of gratitude for Indro, Jagrata, Judhajit and Tania for the love and affection they showered on us throughout our stay in Ranchi.

We bade them adieu and prepared our long journey back home, halting overnight at BHEL Guesthouse in Varanasi. The journey back home was uneventful except the usual culprit being the NH19 right from Sasaram to Varanasi till we took the exit to the city only to face unruly, erratic traffic, typically UP. The final leg of journey was smooth ride via Purvanchal Expressway, Lucknow-Agra Expressway and finally Yamuna Expressway to Greater Noida and then home after dropping my friends at New Ashok Nagar.  

Posted on by Aranyascope · 5 Comments

Customer Service

In the recent times, two of the iconic restaurants of Kolkata, namely 6 Ballygunge Place & Arsalan have opened their branch in Delhi and I have visited both these places. The former is famous for the typical Bengali cuisine offering in a fine dining ambience while the Biriyani of the latter is to die for.

I being a lifelong marketing-advertising person, I believe the customer is the king/queen. The customer is always right even if he/she is not, you have to accept that they are right. That’s how the business runs and flourishes. Some of the organisation goes extra miles to satisfy their customers. One example I would like to mention here… While visiting my son and daughter-in-law in Bangalore, I realised they don’t have an appropriate utensil to cook 1kg of mutton, so after consulting my wife I ordered for a 3ltr Prestige Pressure Cooker from Blinkit. However, on receipt, I found it to be significantly small for the purpose and I need at least a 5ltr capacity pressure cooker. I called up the customer care and explained the issue. They readily accepted and refunded the money and asked me to choose and buy from the app. They could have refused the return as I had made a conscious choice but they showed empathy with their customer and won my allegiance for life.

Coming back to the restaurants, I found 6 Ballygunge Place, Eldeco Centre, next to Malaviya Nagar Metro station, New Delhi to be very friendly, warm place where one can go back any number of times. The staff is knowledgeable, ready to help with suggestions and prompt with service. The food is, of course very delicious and authentic and the menu has a wide range to choose from. The management and staff of the place keep their customer in high esteem and go miles to satisfy their needs and wants. No wonder that you have to make prior bookings most of the days for lunch or dinner, as their covers are mostly 100% occupied.

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In stark contrast is Arsalan Restaurant, recently opened in Rajouri Garden, New Delhi… I visited the outlet yesterday with my dear friend Santanu Basu. Both of us are familiar with the restaurant in Kolkata having dined as well as packed the Biriyani and curries from their Park Circus and EMP Bypass outlets. These outlets, despite heavy footfalls have always won our appreciation for quality of food as well as service. However, their Delhi outlet has miles to go to earn the badges. When we went there, we were asked to upstairs by the lady at the front desk without specifying the floor, neither made any effort to guide us; we decided to check both first and second floors. Luckily for us, we found seating on the first floor itself which had only one other table occupied by a couple. The air-conditioning wasn’t switched on near our table, not a single staff was visible to even offer the menu. I found one lying on the next table and took it. After almost 15 minutes, a steward came with another menu but then we had decided our dishes and placed our order. Another 10-15 minutes passed before we were served, we had asked for a full plate of Biriyani to be served half n half (the Park Circus outlet served us when a dozen of us visited the place for dining) but the guy came with a full plate of Biriyani and an empty plate. He started clumsily to divide it into two portions and I had to stop him because he was spilling the food on the table. We asked for Coke Zero and Regular Coke but was served Diet Coke instead. Overall, the staff gave out a feeling that they are not interested in their job, they don’t love what they are supposed to do and perhaps shall do the minimum to keep their job. We asked the steward for suggestions about the curry, instead of recommending, he simply ranted out the menu. I was looking for some human touch and empathy not a robotic server.

There is no doubt that their chefs are class apart when it comes to cooking Biriyani, it is flavourful, non-spicy with succulent mutton pieces, melt in mouth potatoes and egg. We ordered for a plate of Quorma to go with the Biriyani, it was more of a regular curry than Quorma. Santanu and I, both agreed that the Quorma we had at Al Jawahar Restaurant at Jam Masjid was far tastier and more flavourful. And yes, that’s another restaurant we will go back because of friendly services.

We packed some dishes for back home, which were packed nicely in an expensive jute bag, how long they will giveaway this complimentary jute bag, that’s a question. In Kolkata, they pack in polybags only as a standard packaging and does a double packing if it is to be taken on a train or airplane.

In conclusion, I think, food industry is highly competitive and complex business because, it not has to cater to the taste buds but needs to up their customer service to ensure repeat footfall.