Part 5 Aug 10^th  2011

 

Thimpu- Phuntsholing-Alipurduar-Guwahati.

We had planned an early start to accommodate any road blockages on the way back to Phuntsholing. And true to our plan we were settled in our bus by 9. Earlier after having breakfast and settling the bill we had taken a taxi to the bus stand; passing a petrol station, the prettiest one I've seen. We adjusted seats allocation with a girl, once the bus started. Until then she was deeply immersed in a farewell scene with her boyfriend, we assumed. In order not to be caught staring, I looked down and my eyes fell on her sandals. They were in gladiator style, of dark brown leather; I had actually seen a similar one yesterday in a display window but hadn’t given it a second thought. But now I wanted them. How is it that one actually wants something when it goes into other's possession? Well, nothing could be done now; the bus was on its way. Maybe Phuntsholing? Again the day was clear of clouds with bright sunlight illuminating the blue sky. There amidst the hills is a huge golden Buddha statue visible from all over the city. Yesterday Sudha was game to climb to it but I had deferred. I was done with my climbing for the year. By this time the bus had moved into the hills. We picked a couple of passengers on the outskirts, one with a sack full of green apples. For a while, till the diversion for Paro, the traffic was heavy. Ahead we even witnessed two buses coming from opposite direction slide against one another and in the process take down one another's side mirrors. I've been on many narrow, treacherous roads, up in the mountains but never thought I'll view this scene. The road was shinning with those mirror pieces that after catching sunlight resembled diamonds. There was something surreal about the scene, I don’t know if it was the absence of fight in the aftermath of the accident or that road straight out of ‘Peter Pan’. By now the 'gladiator sandals' girl was chatting with us. She, like us, was on her way to Jaigaon where she would take a shared jeep to Darjeeling, almost taking the same route as we had taken on our onwards journey. She was at college in Darjeeling. We enquired if many Bhutanese come to India for education as we had met so many India- educated locals yesterday. She said, "No. The situation is that there is quality higher education in Bhutan, but limited seats. So those who don’t get selected prefer to come to India for it." Yes, quite logical. But she said the real difficulty is the travel to India. The only two options are the weekly flight to New Delhi or the way she was doing it now- A 6 to 7 hour travel to Phuntsholing and then a 4 to 5 hour ride to Silliguri and then again 3 hours up the hills to Darjeeling. She was planning to stay the night with her relatives in Phuntsholing and then move ahead tomorrow to have a break between the extremely long journey. Insightful though the thought was the scenery outside captivated us soon: The mountains wearing their green blankets giving a sneak peek of the waterfalls in between, the river playing hide and seek, visible one moment gone in the next. The atmosphere was set and a 'reflective' mood came over me.

At around noon we stopped for refreshments. The place was similar to the one on our way to Thimpu. The dining area was full and the chattering around had turned into noise. There were a couple of other buses, one from Paro, taking their breaks hence the rush. We shared a table with a lady, who told us she was a teacher originally from Paro and now working in Phuntsholing. She suggested we try the vegetarian momos, no they weren’t spicy. As we awaited our order, the teacher started telling us about her family, her profession. She told us there were many Indians living in Phuntsholing. I thought "Is there a place on earth, where there aren’t any Indians?" Her family doctor was an Indian from Bengal; she had a colleague from Kerala. Showing appropriate amazement we gorged on the momos, they were truly delicious. We asked for another helping. The teacher's bus started first. We too got in and started moving onwards. Now our thoughts were more in the direction of the train and what awaited us in Guwahati. Meanwhile the ‘gladiator sandals’ girl informed us there was a bandh (strike) in Jaigaon. We weren’t sure of its implications and our lack of reaction irritated her. In an extremely excited state she said, "Don’t you know what it means? Everything is closed. ‘CLOSED’. There won’t be any buses or any vehicles at all. What are you going to do?" The message got home and hit hard too. Immediately Sudha and I were looking into each other's faces as if there was an answer there. We thought maybe we would have to look for a hotel in Phuntsholing itself, but what about the reserved train ticket, how long would this strike be on? With every question the problem seemed to be growing. As if on cue even the atmosphere had become heavy, purple clouds hanging ominously above. Yes, I couldn’t see the beauty in them then. Sudha narrated her experiences with the West Bengal bandhs and the ‘gladiator sandals’ girl solemnly nodded her head. Umm I guessed as much, it wasn’t a pleasant experience; the whole place is paralysed. In a moment the ‘gladiator sandals’ girl received another call, the bandh was over yesterday! What an anti climax! I can’t explain how relieved we were, but it was to be short-lived. Atleast I didn’t know it then. Without any further event we reached Phuntsholing bus station; that organised and well decorated structure. As we got down we saw two buses ready for journey, Phuntsholing to Calcutta. On enquiry we came to knew that journey takes 16 hours. On second thoughts, it isn’t a bad proposition to come to Bhutan this way surpassing all the hurdles we had experienced. If only one knew! But maybe that’s the fun of exploring atypical routes. I’m sure neither Vasco da Gama nor Marco Polo must have any regrets. We started our march towards the border passing with luggage and all. Contemplating on whether to have a lunch or not we decided on the affirmative. It is always sensible to travel on a full stomach. We had some chowmein, not so tasty, but bearable. The border post was crossed on foot. Here the guards were scrutinising everyone, as much strictly as an airport. A lot of tobacco based product is smuggled on the border. We also saw many chic Bhutanese youngsters crossing over, maybe to shop cheap at various brand stores here in Jaigaon. We had been surprised to see 'Reebok' and 'levis' looking out at us here; a place which could win a competition for the dirtiest place, a place where poverty peeped through every face. Now we know who the clientele of these brands were. We ourselves crossed over without event, and caught an auto for the Jaigoan bus stand. Ahh, the sights of India overwhelmed us. And the events too. Running with the luggage on, we caught a bus to Aliporeduar. Settled in and the tickets bought with the remaining Bhutanese money we heaved a sigh of relief. These border areas arent strict in numismatics, both in India and Bhutan. With the exchange rate being exact '0' between the rupee and the Bhutanese ngultrum (BTN), it doesn’t matter if its Gandhi or King Wangchuck peeping from the currency bill. Now that the immediate future didn’t contain any surprises, we just had to reach the railway station and board the train, the relief spread all over me. As one views the scenery pass by in the opposite direction, in the direction of the place we travel from the thoughts too more often than not go that way. I was feeling light. And warm. A feeling one experiences after eating a meal cooked by a loved one, a feeling after reading a McCall Smith book about a gentle and principled way of life, or simply watching a good deed by a human. Besides me Sudha too was quiet, what might she be thinking about?

Giving the scene outside a little attention, I realised this was a different route from our onwards journey. We passed green farms; the rains seemed to have been kind this time. Though it was dusk by now, there were still a few people here and there toiling in their farms. We picked up and dropped many passengers on the way. Seeing all these bustling bus stations of these numerous small towns so full of people the Indian population count of 1.25 billion seemed believable. Outside the stations were the cycle rickshaws waiting for the passengers to alight the bus and then board their vehicle, a chance for them to earn. On the other side were small tea and snacks stall, again eagerly awaiting the alighting bus passengers. All part of the social ladder and all dependants on one another.

We reached Alipurduar still with some daylight left. We had discussed this queer name, Alipurduar between us. Alipur sounded common enough, but 'duar'? Was it the Hindi word for door or as Sudha reminded me this 'duar' was actually 'doar' of the famous Doars corridor with its tribe of wild elephants. On some of the billboards we got confirmation for this. At the bus station a little enquiry led us to a cycle rickshaw and in it to the railway station, about 5 mins away. Sudha had visited this place about a decade before and she was trying to remember the picture then. She described the narrow paths all surrounded by farms then with an occasional provisions store or snack bar. The scene had undergone a complete transformation- the pathways were now streets, the farms had vanished into thin air and the whole patch was full of shacks offering refreshments. Gone was the village, and a town had been born in a decade. The railways station itself had been very small with just a platform and a small shade. Now it was a full fledged organism with all its arms well in place. We entered and looked towards the announcement board, our train wasn’t listed yet. But it was still 3 hours away, no worries. We went to look for the waiting room; it was quite unclean and rather depressing. I just chained my luggage to a chair till Sudha peeped into the washroom. We moved out to see for an early dinner so as to be ready to board the train. Now the electronic announcement board had our train listed, it was running fourteen hours late! Fourteen? Was there a mistake? At that moment I couldn’t even calculate the actual time this nine o' clock train would arrive. We were shocked, would be putting down our reaction too mildly. The first thing that came into mind was where would we spend the night? At this waiting room- no. In the town at some shady hotel- no. It was a hopeless situation. We went to the inquiry counter; a Bengali lady was attending it. She was one of those people who believe in not wasting words. All answers came in monosyllables.
"Is Kanchenjunga Express late?’-“yes”

"Why?"-"Don’t know"

"When will it arrive?"-"after 14 hours"

"Sure?"-"no"
Oh my God, this was one of those situations where you wish you are dreaming and you would wake up and the problem would vanish. I don’t remember if one of us suggested it or it came out of our discussion - there must be some other train for Guwahati. We went to our 'monosyllable' lady. She answered, "Saraighat express 9.30". We made sure this one was arriving on time. Now the smart lady travelling with me suggested we go and see the station master. Sudha said he has the right to transfer tickets in special cases. We peeped in, the overhead fan was in full speed, all the lights were shining creating a glare, the brocade sofas were present but the man in question was absent. I really couldn’t help taking in all the details of that off-white and sofa with flowers and vines embroidered in gold and dark maroon. We had other problems and we ran towards the inquiry room again. Now there was a man there, he suggested we go and reserve tickets for the Saraighat. We ran towards the reservation counter. People were falling over each other here. Someone in the line suggested we write down the details on a piece of paper, a type of ‘jugaad’ (adjustment) in the absence of enough reservation forms. We found a paper and pen from God knows where and started writing our Name, Age, Train name, etc. Now the clock struck 'eight' and window was shut for the day. Wow. Now? We again made our way towards the station master's room, only he could be of any help now. There was someone there this time. We got in and explained our situation to him, he asked us to go down the corridor to the ticket checker's lounge. Only the TC (ticket checker) for that particular train could help us. We went on the way he had shown us. This room wasn’t as luxurious as the earlier one, but definitely more in use. About three to four people in the TC's uniform were in, a couple of them having food and the remaining two cooking up stories, I guess. We asked for the TC travelling with the Saraighat Express. "Madam, he will be here only 15 mins before the train." Now? They were curious, this bunch, and we explained our situation. They told us to go back to the station master as he was the only person who could do something. Back to the brocade room, we told the station master the TC was not there yet, couldn’t he do something? Maybe our desperation reached him this time and he asked for our ticket. The moment he saw it he exclaimed, “This is an electronic ticket!" " So?" we both said in unison. "This is of no use here." he said. I wish there were some officials from Railways higher up who so very aggressively advertise the electronic tickets and to think of it now the ‘paperless’ mobile message. This guy had the same look of confusion and fear  for that electronic ticket which an aboriginal has for outside world. I wonder what he would have said to the mobile ticket. On further probe he said these electronic tickets were valid only after the TC has checked them with an Identity proof. We couldn’t wait for fourteen hours for the Kanchenganga exp to arrive and get our tickets 'validated'. This system is really absurd. He suggested we wait for the TC, which was our best or rather, the only option. It was about half past eight by now. We went and booked two general class tickets for the Saraighat for some sixty-nine bucks. Atleast we could board the train, as spending a night here wasn’t an option atall. We went to the waiting room, unlocked my luggage and stood there outside the TC's room so as not to miss him. All this stress had taken its toll on both of us and both me and Sudha were sending 'this was your fault' darts towards each other. The atmosphere was ripe for a fight. Standing here in this corridor of the building, constructed by some unimaginative PWD engineer, not cleaned probably since it was made, with junk lying around was a moment of true testing. Finally when I was going to just sit down there on the floor, the man of the moment, the TC arrived. We went into the room behind him and explained our situation, probably for the nth time that evening and hopefully for the last. The other TCs gave the appropriate chorus, we gave them the acknowledging smile. The TC pondered our problem while rubbing his chin, as Einstein must have pondered over one of his equations. The solution came soon, he told us to go and wait on the platform, near the bridge. He will see what he can do for us there. We thanked him with so much gratitude, my spine would have snapped if I would have bent a little more. Picking up the luggage we went towards the platform and started our wait there. The timing and setting were perfect for a fight and we had one. A furious one where accusations flew from here to there and back. In the end Sudha closed the chapter saying maybe we should go back home from Guwahati, our styles of travelling were too different. It was half past nine by now and the train wasn’t there. Was this one late too and where was this Einstien TC? At that moment we heard the hoot of the engine, the train was coming. The TC was still not there, what happens if a TC misses his train? Anyways now the train was standing on the platform. We didn’t know what to do? Should we board the 3AC boogie or go towards the general class? The time was running, I told Sudha we'll boards the 3 AC and wait there for the TC. As we were boarding the train we saw him rushing towards the train, towards 2AC. Leaving the luggage with Sudha I ran towards him and ... i didn’t know what to ask. I just excused myself and reminded him we had met a while back, he said "ofcourse,  ofcourse. You two girls, go into the 3 AC, B1 compartment, I'm coming." I ran back towards where Sudha was waiting. We now waited but in hope of a positive outcome. The person in the compartment told us this was time before Independance day-15^th august and hence these delays and cancellations. On our uncomprehending look he explained further that all trains, atleast the night ones run at the speed of 20km/hr to avoid any mishap by the mischiefmakers. He said it got worse nearer to the Independance day, we should have taken it as a warning but I don’t think we were even listening completely. True to his word the TC came shortly and announced seats 9,10 were for us. I couldn’t believe it, it was too good to be true! It was. We kept our luggage in the compartment and he asked us to come aside. He opened his chart and explained to us the price of the ticket was about thousand bucks for this journey and he would settle the matter in half the amount. He peered into Sudha's face for an answer. Sudha is one naive person in some matters and didn’t get his meaning. I couldn’t say, 'bribe him' to her there in front of him. I said yes we were ready. After receiving the payment he took our details and said if anyone came and asked for our tickets we should say they were with the TC. He would make new tickets in that situation. He left and we climbed to our upper berths. Two old Marwari couples were occupying the middle and lower berths. Making our beds we started to relax but as soon as we had closed our eyes one of the old ladies got up and started reading some religious text, mumbling all the time. The day was such that I had no patience left for an older person or otherwise. I was giving her killing stares but she wasn’t  even looking my way. Her husband got up and both of them started mumbling. I was like, Damn these people. It was truly a day which would have been better if it wouldn’t have dawned. Here we had 'bribed' our way to Guwahati and I wasn’t even sure if we would travel ahead. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Eventually I dozed off. But this incident has kept me awake for many nights. This was the first bribe of my life. I' m not one of the people who bribe the traffic police to escape from a bigger fine. This was truly a different situation. Two girls struck at an unknown town; truly our safety was the utmost thing? Who was wronged here? The Indian railways, but weren’t they in fault in the first place? We couldn’t cancel the ticket as it was booked by that tourist agent in Madrihat, Sudha's pet, as I remember him. Now even if we would have called him up and inturn he would have cancelled it, how was he going to return our money? This is the trouble with e-tickets. The railways have so many different quotas (reservation) for this group and that institutions, shouldn’t there be something for simple, vulnerable humans? Shouldn’t the railways have provisions for tickets on compassionate ground or special cases? I was also being unreasonable, maybe because this 14 hours delay involved the night, that time where the lack of light livens the creatures of fear and vulnerability. When I look back I never felt vulnerable, but this helplessness annoyed me to no end, and I did succumb to it by ending up doing something which I had never done. I have had innumerable arguments and counterarguments in my mind over this, with either side winning each time. Maybe after writing it down in black and white here I'll let the matter rest. Just remember it as 'my first bribing moment.'