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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.”

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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.  

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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.  

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Mahakumbh & Beyond

The four of us, Tapas, Pulak, Gora and I were at the famous restaurant Al Jawahar in Jama Masjid, having lunch when our conversation turned towards the on-going Mahakumbh. Pulak revealed that he had already visited with his sons and it is very doable by road. That prompted us to plan our own trip to Prayagraj. I suggested that since we are going all that distance, we might as well go a little further to Ranchi (Jharkhand) to visit our dear friend Indrajit. Keeping everyone’s schedule and comfort in mind, we decided the dates, 18th to 23rd February and accordingly booked the hotel/ homestay at Prayagraj, Ranchi and Varanasi.

DAY ONE (TUESDAY 18.02.2025)

In view of the long distance, we decided to take my Jeep Compass… also I wanted to put some mileage as well… after 3.5 years, it hasn’t crossed 20000 km!!

I started from home at 5:35 am (target was 5 am) and reached the pick-up destination, Topshe’s home at around 6 am. There was a bit of apprehension whether the boot-space of Jeep would be able accommodate the luggage of 5 person but everything fitted in the space. We started for Prayagraj… Mahakumbh around 6:40 am, Google Map said 10 hours 50 minutes to the destination. HAR HAR MAHADEV…

A little bit about Kumbh Mela…

The Mahakumbh Mela is based on a legend about the churning of the ocean to find the nectar of immortality or Amrit. The story says that as Lord Vishnu was carrying the Kumbh or the vessel filled with Amrit, he had scuffles with the Rakshasas (Demons) and in the that melee four drops of the nectar fell at Triveni Sangam, Haridwar, Ujjain and Nashik making them sacred and the sites of the Kumbh Mela. 

Prayagraj, located at the confluence of Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati River. The third one is hidden.

Haridwar, the site where Ganga descends to the plains from Himalayas.

Ujjain, located on the banks of Kshipra river.

Nashik, located on the banks of Godavari river.

There are four kinds of Kumbh Melas, Magh Mela, happens every year in the months of Jan-Feb at the Prayagraj, Ardh Kumbh, every 6 years on a rotational basis at Prayagraj & Haridwar, Purna Kumbh, every 12 years again on a rotational at the above mentioned 4 sites and Mahakumbh, every 144 years at the Triveni Sangam, Prayagraj, based on the rare celestial event of alignment of the Sun. Moon and Jupiter. This year it was special because of the rarest celestial event when 7 planets aligned in a perfect trajectory. The science behind Maha Kumbh includes astrology, astronomy, and ancient Indian knowledge of geography and geomagnetic forces. 

Astrology:

  • The timing of Maha Kumbh is based on the alignment of the Sun, Moon, and Jupiter.
  • When Jupiter enters Aquarius, the zodiac sign of Kumbh, and the Sun and Moon align, it’s time for the Maha Kumbh.
  • This rare celestial alignment is believed to create the perfect moment for the holy bath.

Astronomy:

  • The 12-year cycle of the Purna Kumbh is linked to the orbital period of Jupiter. 
  • Jupiter takes approximately 12 years to complete one revolution around the Sun. 

Geography & Geomagnetic forces:

  • The selection of Kumbh Mela sites reveals ancient India’s understanding of geography and geomagnetic forces.
  • These locations, often at river confluences, are believed to exhibit strong geomagnetic energy fields.

Ancient Indian knowledge: 

  • Ancient Indian sages identified the 12-year cycle of Jupiter long before modern science recognized it.

Other beliefs:

  • Immersion in the holy waters represents surrendering the ego and worldly attachments, fostering humility and spiritual transformation.

Mahakumbh Mela 2025

Over 55 crore people took a holy dip in the Triveni Sangam during the 2025 Maha Kumbh Mela in Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh. This is the largest gathering in human history for any religious, cultural, or social event. The Maha Kumbh Mela began on January 13, 2025 and continued until February 26, 2025. The number of people who took a bath at the Triveni Sangam represents over 50% of India’s Sanatan Dharm followers. The footfall at the Hindu pilgrimage surpassed the population count of all countries except India and China. On the eve of Maghi Purnima, more than 2 crore people took a holy dip in Triveni Sangam, the confluence of Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati River. There are no precedence of such gathering of people in the history of mankind.

Back to our journey…

We had our first stop at the Food King adjacent to the Agra Toll Plaza where we had tea and the egg sandwiches prepared by yours truly. After freshening up, we continued our journey, Tapas took the wheels, it was first time driving an automatic vehicle for him, I explained the basics to him. The route was quite simple, Noida-Greater Noida Expressway, Yamuna Expressway, Agra Inner Ring Road, Agra-Lucknow Expressway and NH19 all the way to Prayagraj via Kanpur bypass.

We experienced heavier than usual traffic on the road, the reason perhaps is the non-availability of train tickets and skyrocketing airfares to Prayagraj, many people had decided to take the roads, especially as the road conditions have improved over the last 10 years. Anyways, it was a good sign, travelling with larger numbers are reassuring and kills the boredom of the emptiness of driving vast stretch of the tract.

An hour or perhaps more on the Agra-Lucknow Expressway, we found the exit to NH19 towards Kanpur. We refilled the tank right after hitting the NH19 at a Reliance Petrol Station. We needed to use the restroom but it was too dirty for our senses. Moving further, we found a Dhaba with a sizeable number of vehicles stopping and decided to take the break. We ordered for stuffed parathas with curd and took out the Luchi-Aloor Torkari prepared by Sudipta, better-half of Tapas. I forgot to mention that she was travelling with us as well becoming the fifth gang-member.

Tapas continued to drive, he truly loves driving long distance especially on the hilly roads, but was enjoying the driving an automatic on the plains. After the tummy full eating, I felt a little lazy and dozed off while Tapas drove without any incident. The NH19, often passed through some townships and villages with volume of local traffic, slowing us down. We reached the Kanpur bypass around 1:30 pm and realised so many people like us are headed to the Mahakumbh bearing the flags and banners of Sanatan attached to their vehicle. It also started the congestions on the road and at places we were stalled for more than 30 minutes.

Around 4:30 pm, still miles away from Prayagraj, we felt hungry and stopped at the Muskan Palace, a Baratghar or Banquette Hall, converted to a restaurant for the Mahakumbh yatris on NH19. They were serving a variety of lentils with rice only, we ordered one of each, Chhole, Rajma, Arhar dal with rice. Deepika, even on her off day, makes each of them far tastier and filling and if she’s in a mood, the dishes become finger lickingly delicious!!

Tapas had driven quite a distance since morning, so I took over the wheels. The drive to Prayagraj was more or less smooth with few intermittent congestions and we reached the “Y” fork where the lefthand side road boldly announced “way to Sangam” and the righthand side road was heavily guarded by the UP Police, allowing fewer vehicles to go through. Indrajit, my friend has a contact named Sonu with whom we were in touch and he suggested we take the righthand side road. Further, he told us to tell the cops, if stopped, that we are headed towards the airport, I did that and was allowed through the barricaded road. Once on that road, we stopped as Sonu said that he is sending some kind of “pass” which turned out to be a train ticket to Nagpur, changing our narrative from airport to the railway station. Our next hurdle to enter the heart of the city came near the Nehru Park area which had been converted to a massive vehicle parking area. I was in the middle lane of the traffic and for a good purpose as the vehicles on the left were diverted to the parking and the right lane were asked to take a u-turn for some other parking. I was behind a Scorpio SUV that had a large sticker declaring “Bhadoria Family”, we had on our way seen a convoy of at least 15-20 cars/ SUV with same sticker and had thought them to be a marriage party. The Bhadoriya Family must be having some influence as it was allowed to go through the barricade, without looking at the cops, I quickly followed it crossing the barrier. Madhav was with me and did the trick. Thereafter, we had a free run through the city and came to a roundabout from where the Google Map asked us to take the second exit for our homestay, a mere 2 km away. The road was barricaded, the vehicles ahead of me were taking the u-turn and an ambulance waited patiently for the passage through the prohibited road. The cops were communicating through walkie-talkie on the loudspeaker. The control room advised the cops to open the gate for the ambulance and close down immediately. This was enough for the alert drivers to follow the ambulance in close proximity to pass through. Soon, we reached the location as advised by the homestay guy but could not see “Vinayak Homestay” board anywhere. Tapas and Pulak went to check and called up our contact. With his new direction we drove through a lane to reach the house, parking was in the open, leaving space enough for another car to pass. The facilities at the homestay was bare minimum, a bed with clean sheet and a blanket, no towels (thankfully, we all carried our own); at the time of booking, they showed us pictures of the room including bathroom which claimed existence of geysers, however out of the three rooms, only one had a geyser but non-functional. It was matter of one night stay, so we weren’t too hassled.

We quickly freshened up and changed into appropriate clothing for the holy dip at the Triveni Sangam. The homestay owner, showed us a quick getaway to the river banks, the maps showed 3.4 km or 15 minutes of walking. We were elated being so close to the destination. We reached the ghat and saw Ganga flowing in full glory to meet her sisters Yamuna & Saraswati, we followed her for another 3.5 km to the Triveni Sangam with at least a million more faithful.   

As we walked sedately towards the bathing ghats of Triveni Sangam, we came across humanity from all across the country speaking in variety of languages, some familiar, some alien. One thing was certain that the barrier of caste, creed and colour was non-existent at the Mahakumbh Mela, the assimilation of human race was complete.

We finally reached the bathing ghat, ready to take the dip in the holy water of the Sangam. Pulak, having taken the dip, few days back was ready for the repeat, Sudipta too was keen. Tapas, Gora and I had a look at the water and the people taking the dip in the confined bathing area, and stood back. I am no one to judge the belief and faith of the people but I could not convince myself to plunge into the pool of practically stagnated water; had the water been flowing freely like it was beyond the confines, I would have taken the dip. We bowed to the confluence of rivers and requested Pulak to splash the water on our head as a symbolic bath. Ironically, all the videos of the celebrities taking the holy dip shows free flowing rivers or perhaps the VVIP/VIP areas were differently curated than the one’s for the proletariat creating a class distinction, very contrary to the tenets or philosophy of the Mahakumbh, proving that money and power are more equal than faith.

We filled few bottles of the holy water for back home, the colour of the water was dark grey because of unwanted particles and muds; surprisingly, by morning, the water had become almost clear.

After more than 16000 steps or almost 12 km walking, we were hungry and looked for a decent place to have something. We found one in the market and ordered for Masala Dosa (only item available with minimal oil) and sat in the restaurant area. I am not commenting on the quality and taste of it but it did fill our hungry tummy.

We came back to the homestay, completely exhausted and crashed out.

DAY TWO (Wednesday, 19.02.2025)

We were all set for the second leg of our journey to Ranchi for the reunion with our dear friend Indrajit. We started from the homestay around 7 am and it took us an hour to negotiate through the city streets to reach the highway towards Varanasi.

We started around 7:30 am for the 525km journey to Ranchi expecting to cover it in 10.5 hours. We were grossly mistaken. It took us almost 1.5 hours to get out of the Prayagraj city. Once we hit the highway (NH19), the going was good, we could speed up to 110-115kmph on some stretches keeping our ETA at Ranchi at respectable time. While driving, we finished off the butter-jam sandwiches that we had for a situation where we get stranded without any amenities.

Around 11 am, we stopped at the Rajpoot Dhaba, more for using the restroom than eating. The place was chock-a-block with large number people stopping for breakfast, it took some 30 minutes to find a table for the 5 of us; we shared the large table with 5 other people, 4 ladies from Mangalore and their driver. They narrated the unprecedented rush in Varanasi, especially around the Kashi-Vishwanath temple, staying near the temple, they said that there wasn’t an inch space in the lane leading to the mandir. They were going to Prayagraj after visiting Kashi-Vishwanath. They had booked a tent at the Prayagraj, so I guess they had nice experience.

The scene at the entry points to Varanasi were no different from Prayagraj, all the entry points were completely shut, no vehicles were allowed inside the city. This resulted in haphazard parking of vehicles on the highway itself leaving very little space for other vehicles to pass. Tapas drove with admirable patience through the congestion. We hoped for smoother drive once we cross over to Bihar!!

The Bihar roads presented a different level of challenge. There’s ONLY ONE ROAD, NH19 that connects the Eastern part of the country to North, West and South and this is under renovation, widening, recarpeting and new flyovers for a smoother ride in the near future. But right now, there’s absolute chaos with narrow and unlaid service roads coupled with unruly traffic creating congestion every few kilometers. By the time we were crossing Aurangabad, the Sun was on its way down on the western horizon and soon it became dark with blazing headlights.

We drove on in complete darkness following the numerous diversions and negotiating the congestions till we left the NH19 for NH20 to Hazaribagh. The drive became easier and we were cruising through the Hazaribagh bypass towards Ranchi with new ETA of 11:05 pm. Nearer to Ranchi, the ghat section stirred up Topshe to drive at 100+ kmph; Sudipta and I told him to slow down as it was an unknown stretch for us, we were not sure what lay ahead. Upset at being curtailed, he felt offended and stopped communicating and driving at below 70kmph till we reached our destination.

We had shared our live location with Indrajit, he came up to the main road to guide us to his housing complex, Global Lavanya. Jagrata, his wife had prepared an elaborate banquette of typical Bengali cuisine for us. Once upon a time I had shared my desire to have typical Bengali food (my household being cosmopolitan, it is always a fusion food) and my friend and Bouthan went miles to fulfil my desire. I am and shall forever remain indebted to them for the love and affection they showered on us.

Note: The second and final part the RANCHI REUNION to follow soon…

Begun Bhaja, Mochar Ghonto, Sona Muger Dal, Lau-Shukto, Katla Machh Aloo-Kopi Diye, Sada Bhaat and Nolen Gurer Kshir