Feroz Shah Kotla, New Delhi

This is about the ruins and not the stadium. The place is in the shadow of the modern stadium but lends it name to it. The ruins I visited:

As we were going around the mound looking for steps to take us up to the top, couple of women came around the corner and showed us the way up. But before we could thank them and proceed, one of them stopped us and told us to immediately cover our heads. I thought it must be a religious custom and did as told. As we had entered the citadel of Feroz Shah Kotla we had encountered no. of shrines indifferent alcoves with incense sticks burning all around. Presuming this to be a sacred place we went on with our purpose of visit. It was when I read Darymple's  'City of Djinns' I came to knew the crux of the story. The place is inhabited by djinns just like the whole of Delhi. It is the djinns or the spirits, whose love for Delhi has kept the city alive through centuries. To go back to the start, the ladies were telling us to cover our heads as the djinns get entangled in a girl's long hair! Really!

 

But this myth hadn't brought me to Feroz Shah Kotla. It was much more definite, the Golden Column of Asoka. The story has two unlikely protagonists - Sultan Feroz Shah of the 14th century A.D and Emperor Asoka of 3rd century B.C.E.
Feroz Shah was Mohammed bin Tughlaq's cousin and succeeded him to become the Sultan of Delhi. This same 'eccentric' Mohammed bin Tughlaq is the one who had started one disasters after other like minting copper coins instead of gold, shifting the capital and it's population to Daulatabad (1200 kms down south) and back or building a welcome pavillion for his father which crushed and killed him. I am always amazed by his personality to manufacture disasters. Moving ahead, when he died of plague near a battlefield, his cousin Feroz Shah was put on the throne. Though Feroz Shah was a mild mannered liberal,born to a Hindu mother, he had to carry out periodical assaults on temples to satisfy the puritans. One of the temples to come under his sword is the famous Jagannath temple in Orissa. But he had many more facets than to be manipulated by the nobels around.
He was a master builder, patron to engineering and architectural works like madrases, hospitals, bridges, canals etc. He was also into restoration. On one of his outings outside Delhi, in today's Haryana he came across a marvellous sight. A pillar of gold! 42 feet in length and weighing 25 tonnes. On making inquiries he was told that it is called Bhim's lath(stick). As always in India any natural or manmade ancient site is always connected to Ramayana or Mahabharata.(Sometimes I wonder at the extent of the length and breadth covered by Ram, Sita and Lakshman. Everywhere I go they have already been there right upto the border of Tibet!) Here, Feroz Shah was so fascinated by this column that he decided to move it to the city he was building in Delhi, Ferozabad. This city was to have a fort named as FirozShah Kotla.
The transfer of this column is another fascinating read, first the column was wrapped in tonnes and tonnes of cotton. Then earth was removed from the base of the column and it gently fell on this bed of cotton. Then it was wrapped in raw so as to avoid any damage to it during transportation. Once horizontal it was carried on a carriage made with 42 wheels to the banks of Yamuna where a barge was specially made to carry this pillar to Delhi.
At Delhi, it was given the most prominent place with a huge base mound, three storied high built to place it. Here the Sultan gathered all his nobels and intellectuals to study it. What they discovered was that the column was actually made of sandstone but was so polished that in bright sunlight it shined to give an illusion of being made of gold. They also discovered that it was covered with inscriptions all over. To satisfy his curiosity about the origin and purpose of the column Feroz Shah invited Hindu pandits from all over the region. But noone could decipher the language written over it, neither was it Sanskrit  or Prakrit. This confusion was mainly because of the unknown 'script' of the inscriptions. In the end it was mutually decided that maybe it was Greek afterall and Alexander must have built it to comemorate his victory. Still FirozShah remained so fascinated with it that he even wrote poems about it calling it minara I zarin, 'column of gold'. This was around 1360 A.D.

 

 

 

Many rulers succeeded Feroz Shah and inturn built their own 'Delhi'. Large parts of Feroz Shah's city were dismantled and used as raw materials by them, only the Kotla somehow stayed in, more or less as a ruined symbol. Now in the 17th century as the British started entering India with the East India Company, many British travellers started visiting the Mughal Emperor at Delhi. They went exploring and came across this pillar of gold. There is a long story which follows but slowly and steadily the British came across more samples of the columns and the script- one at Delhi itself on the Ridge, one in the fort of Allahabad, one in northern Bihar etc. When the Asiatic Society was formed in Calcutta this matter was one of the foremost to be investigated. After a lot, and I mean it, a lot of hardwork the script was deciphered as 'brahmi'.  It was actually James Princep who deciphered it. There is a famous ghat on the Ganges named as Princep Ghat in his memory in Calcutta.
And the inscriptions were then named as 'Pillar edicts' of Emperor Asoka on the moral code for his subjects.This was around 250 B.C.E.

 

 

 

                                              

Asoka had another 'Rock edicts' too. These were inscriptions on rocks placed at strategic locations within his empire. The purpose of both these edicts was served with Asoka's officials reading out the emperor's message for his subjects. The inscription on stone gave the message permanence, and how! They have stayed with us for more than two thousand years. The content of these moral codes is another matter which fascinates me to no end. About that later.
So the pillar is precisely more than 2250 years old, still with the same shine and with same message of Asoka. It represents the feats and ingenuity of both the Emperors, one who created it and the other who brought it in public domain.
I was so fascinated by reading about all this that I was waiting with baited breath to visit Delhi and experiencing it myself. But I was there in July when the sky was cloudy and I couldnt view it in its full glory. It has to be viewed between 12-3 in bright sunlight!
Maybe I'll visit it again and this time meet the djinns too!

Further reading:
City of Djinns by William Darymple
Asoka by Charles Allen

Saheliyon ki Bari - Udaipur,Rajasthan.

Saheliyon ki Bari or friends' gathering place is a pleasure garden in Udaipur, Rajasthan. This royal garden is also the most memorable place of my childhood. On the innumerable family holidays that I've spent in Udaipur then, saheliyon ki Bari is etched in my sub conscious.
The story goes that - It was built on the assertion of a princess by her father. She loved the rain and wanted to experience it allround the year and her dad obliged with this marvellous architectural, and engineering feat. Water from the nearby lake is brought to this place in ducts. The place is divided in 3 sections on the basis of the intensity of the rain. There are sprinklers and fountains giving away the sound of rain like nowhere, from light rain to heavy downpour. It is to be experienced to be believed. The whole effect transforms the place into such a lush, luxurious and aesthetically pleasing environment. The lotus ponds and exquisitely carved marble gazebos together bring a light headedness. It transfers one to era of royalty and royal leisurely life. This princess used to come here with all her friends and they used to experience it in it's full glory.

 

 

Even today when I remember the place, that gurgling sound of rain comes back to me, transforming me back to my childhood. And not just me, it could take everyone back to the time when everything is possible. One just has to wish for it.
In the same breath I also think of that king who took up the challenge of creating rain yearlong, amidst a desert where the seasonal rain too deludes once not too often. What is that feeling where a parent or a loved one does absolutely anything to bring pleasure on the child's face. Though to gift itself is a amusing activity, to do it with a child is pure delight.
My Bha(grandpa) was one such creature. I used to adore Chocobars in my childhood so much but everyone in the family used to restraint me, a cruelty only adults are capable of. Bha had this habit of talking a leisurely stroll mid mornings. On his way back he used to make a round of the market and even do some household shopping. Every alternate day he started taking me too on these walks. We both used to enjoy our Chocobars at one of my Bha's friend's restaurant. It was kind of a secret between the three of us. But inturn everyone at home got an inkling of the happenings. To everyone's utter surprise my grandpa used to absolutely block out the subject. In time everyone came to accept the unspoken word and my outings continued. I never understood the situation as it was then but now as I look back on those moments and the delightful smiles of Bha and me it engulfs me in a warm feeling of pure, unadulterated joy.

 

                                                                 

 

Udaipur: It became the capital of the Mewar region after Chittorgarh. The palaces are hence not in ruins, infact in all their royal glory. The city palace, the main residence of the royal family is grand and beautiful. The glass palace, the mor(peacock) chowk, the Krishna paintings or simply the colours explode your senses. The intricate jalis and all, one would just wish to live here. Udaipur also has the Lake Palace Hotel, again a place of my childhood memories.
The reason for our innumerable visits here is the nearby Keshriyaji in Dungarpur, our ancestral place. We still have our temple here and it takes the whole clan here on constant pilgrimage. Dungarpur was also an erstwhile kingdom. The famous cricket administrator, Raj Sinh Dongarpur comes from that royal family and even has his palace there, though now in ruins.

 

 

 

End Part: On the way back home

August18th 2011

What was I doing yesterday? Since morning I was reflecting on it. I mean I was acting like a Roadies contestant given a task to cover as many places in a day to avoid elimination! It was so extremely tiring though not to say unenjoyable. But all the fatigue truly put me to probably the deepest sleep ever. And after the deep slumber of the night it is a miracle that I was up and ready for the Duronto at eight. 
The day though began with a while spent just viewing the Ganges and it's bridge and all the activity around it. This balcony was really an interesting place to go into a daze. And now, sitting alone here, looking out on the fast passing scenery, yesterday was playing out in my mind. First of all I had to acknowledge that my fascination for Calcutta took me to places more than the to-do list. Still I left out on as much as  I covered. That fascinating Banyan tree with its sheer expanse was where I wanted to go and sit under. I wanted to experience the slightly mystic Kalibari temple. And visit Rose Aylmer's tomb- A night of memories and of sighs! All this made me realised one can't see everything in a day, in spite of the strongest of the intents. And it isn't compulsory to do that too! A very useful insight for the future travels. But as it happens with even the most difficult of travel experiences, they trouble only when one is actually enduring them. On hindsight they are always a delight. And so I'll always cherish my day out in Cal. 
As I looked around after this reflection, I was alone. Every other fellow traveller was out sleeping somewhere. It amazes me that people use their train journeys to sleep, and sleep so more. As if covering all the lost naps in their lifetime. On the contrary for me it is this moment suspended in air where the passivity of the situation opens up our mind to anything and everything. From the immediate surroundings to the faraway world. Right now there was the Times lying around and I picked it up.
It is interesting to peep into the everyday happenings of the places one visits as a distant world. There was some main news about the apathy of citizens of Calcutta. Two youngsters, due to their own fault had come to an accident somewhere on a busy flyover. People had passed by without helping them out and it had created a furore. Isn't the hassle of helping out too small a price to pay for saving a human life. I wonder. Apart from that nothing much worth remembering.
In the meanwhile, there was a racket happening in the next compartment. They all looked like Bengalis, old couples. One moment they were playing cards, on the other they were having heated discussions and then on other sharing some jokes. The place was alive with the sound of their laughter. Listening to them I wondered what makes people share these moments?  In India 'regionalism' is quite strong, strengthened even more by a common language. Would they have included me if I was sitting with them? I can only speculate. I have often thought of learning the Bengali language, but how far will it take me in that society. Yes, I would be able to make friends with the delightful characters in their literature but would I move beyond the inanimate?
I hypothesise because though I'm born and brought up in Maharashtra, I speak the language too, I feel like an outsider, sometimes if not always. And as of being born as a Gujrati I have absolutely no connect with Gujrat. So it doesn't even matter if I'm included or not. All this weird groups in India really make me confused. Maybe I'll be known as the 'girl from nowhere'. Who went everywhere? Ha! Now that's a fab thought!
All these musings were interesting but now I was dying to talk to people. And by noon everyone was assembled around. There was one law student around, a Bengali uncle and one Sindhi aunty. This Bengali uncle really entertained us with all the gory details of the animal sacrifices at the famous Kalibari temple in Calcutta. Blood thirsty that I am I absolutely enjoyed it but I don't think that aunty liked it one bit. Gosh! What fun! So now she was again dozing off. I wondered if I should take matters in my hand and annoy her for a while. Just to liven her. But then maybe she would be just bored. Not worth the effort.
So forgetting about everyone around and everyone not around I was just happy with my thought-
The Girl from nowhere - who goes everywhere:-)

Some other corner of the world next time,if the world has corners....

Part 11: A day in Calcutta.

August 17th 2011

The train reached Howrah station in the most slow and lethargic movements as if she had run out of all her steam to transfer us here. But thankfully she made it to the end. It was about half past five. We moved out of the dimly lit station and asked for the Yatri Niwas. It was just next door and on enquiry we came to knew that passengers possessing a valid ticket can stay at the place for 48 hours. I only needed to stay twenty four hours so my problem was solved! They could keep all the remaining hours with them, ha ha ha, coz tomorrow morning I would be off in my Duronto train to Pune. Though the trip had been absolute fun it had been equally unpredictable and I was happy to go to the comforts and routine of home. Sudha came up with me to see the place. At an government run place one never knows what to expect. We inspected the room which was spic and span but somehow it gave me the ageing impression. I don't know why it was so grey, everything from the wall paint to the bedsheets to the washroom tiles. We saw a door at the other end of the room and opening came upon the stupendous sight of the Ganges. I know this river is called Hooghly and actually is a tributary of the Ganges but it's sheer size makes me call it the Ganges itself. The balcony had the famous Howrah bridge on it's left, the Ganges surging ahead and a street full of yellow taxis below.

 It was so soothing to watch that slow flow of taxis where they brought passengers from maybe different parts of Calcutta and dropped them inturn to again form a line to pick up passengers for some other part of Calcutta. I came out of my reverie and said goodbyes to Sudha. She was heading to her cousin's place somewhere south. We made a tentative plan to meet around four at Kalighat, but I was to keep her informed during the day how I'm progressing on my plan. I had a nice bath and refreshed; I was ready for  'a day in Calcutta.'
In accordance with yesterday's discussion  I had decided to start the day at Flury's. It's a cafe from the days of the British. As it is also mentioned in my favourite book by Vikram Seth I headed straight for it. It was not yet quarter past seven but Sudha had assured me it is a famous breakfast haunt so it would be open by the time I reach there. So heading out I hailed the yellowest taxi in sight and we started speeding towards Calcutta. The Howrah station in Howrah being on one side and Calcutta on the other with the Ganges flowing in between. The two sides are connected by the pre-independence Howrah bridge, a single span bridge. Because of this engineering feat it is quite famous all over India still. I too took part in this feat and our taxi crossed over to the official Calcutta. As always I came across an extremely talkative taxi driver. And we talked about everything from my hometown Pune to his hometown Dhanbad. He then informed me that I was lucky to come today as the weather was much better as it had rained earlier in the week. The guy knew everything in the world except the address I wanted to go to-the Park Street Post office. My LP map was my guide today and it showed Flury's diagonally opposite the Post Office. So we had a nice ride around the leafy lanes and asking around finally he dropped me there. Now the thing I've always noted with LP maps is if I follow it I end up in the wrong directions. I wonder if they are mirror images of the original. Here too as I started following it I sensed something wrong. I asked a lady and she said I was going in the wrong direction (as usual!) and she would walk me there as it was on her way. We started talking and she told me that she worked at an airlines office nearby. By the time I narrated a brief account of the trip we had come to a square and she pointed the pink 'Flury's board on the other side. She wished me a nice day in Calcutta and I proceeded forward.

Thank god the place was open, though just. I entered the place and looked around to savour the atmosphere. There is  a patisserie counter  ahead just as you enter and the sit down restaurant on the left. I turned left and settled into a corner table. The waiter came along and brought the pink menu card. That colour itself was so cute, who wouldn't want to see it first thing in the morning. Anyways I selected some cheese and tomato croissant and cappuccino. And as the waiter turned and left to bring my order I took out a camera to capture the table setting. As a memory. In a while a gentleman came and the waiter welcomed him with a smile. He ordered his usual breakfast,must be some local patron. I was wondering what this 'usual' must be but by the time I was done with my yummy and choicest breakfast in a while and it was time for next destination.
The doorman pointed me in the direction of Victoria Memorial and I moved ahead. Turning left, right I wandered on to the main road. This was lined by old derelict structures, mostly office buildings. The place was abuzz with office goers and it wasn't even half past eight yet. Maybe here in the eastern part of India this is their way of daylight saving in the absence of different time zones in a huge country like India. After a while huge open spaces opened up on my right. These were the famous 'maidans'- central open spaces of Calcutta, still surviving from the British era. I moved ahead, after a while the Victoria Memorial came into view.

The structure was built to welcome Queen Victoria on her maiden visit to India and is an example of quintessentially Victorian architecture. The placed looked quite serene with it's surrounding green vista. I payed my customary ticket money to the Archeological Survey of India which it uses for the upkeep of these structures and sometimes add extremely ugly add ons to these places. The ticket vendor here was the only rude person I came across in Calcutta. Ignoring him I entered the place. There were many morning walkers inside, probably this is the Lodhi Gardens of Calcutta. After encircling the place I thought of seeing the museum it houses but it only opened at ten. So I went around and sat in peace to admire the structure from afar. It had become overcast by then and the whole place looked dream like under the diffused sun rays. As expected it started raining, the reflection of the memorial in the water body in front of it was sheer beauty. I consulted my map and the next destination was the Eden Gardens, India's biggest cricket stadium.

 

Whichever city I visit, I always make it a point to visit and click a snap of it's cricket stadium. For my mum. Yes,she's a cricket buff and always loves those pictures. And this was like the Mecca of Cricket. Now encircling the maidans I was walking back towards the city center. This was a pleasant walk to start with, under the shade of ancient tree canopies, yellow trams passing bye, the greens of the maidans sprinkled with a few people. But as time passed the pleasant walk stretched a bit too long. And there wasn't anyone other than me walking on the path. Cars were zooming past giving me strange stares. The map pointed to a point not too far but this was getting longer and longer and it wasn't that I was wearing trekking shoes. After a while I could spot the stadium but it was on the other side with a huge open space inbetween. After a while I finally reached it. The walk was worth it when I saw a picture of Rahul Dravid, my favourite cricketer.

I did what I had come to do i.e clicked some pictures. Now if I walked straight ahead I was to reach the Dalhousie/ BBD Baghdad square. It is the administrative head quarters since the British times. Now the road was lined with impressive Colonial structures all housing one or the other government offices. This another long walk culminated at the famous Writer's building which now houses the State Secretariat and I envision it with the Chief Minister, Mamta Banerjee. The place had a sprinkling of cops here and there. Here, in West Bengal the cops wear white instead of the customary Khaki all over India and it is a bit difficult to envision them as the police. I went to one of them and enquired if I could take a picture of the building. It is better to ask before clicking these days. As it is I could imagine the communist prison dungeons of Russia from different novels and movies, which must be the case here too as it was ruled by the Communist regime before Ms. Banerjee. The cop gave me a look over, thought for a while and said why not? He even suggested to click from the traffic island for a better frame. Happy, I clicked and crossed over to the other side of the square.

 

 Now I was moving towards the famous India Coffee House and the College street. I came across the State Tourism office and popped in.
The place was ancient. There were desks and chairs lined one after the other straight out of a 70's movie. I only wanted to enquire about the ferry's route and what all places I could touch if I take one. Sudha wasn't upto date on this and had suggested I ask some locals around. As I proposed my question the person attending to me passed it on the guy on the next desk. He inturn passed it on to the next desk. These Chinese whispers ended at a grey haired Official. He informed me that the ferries were available at the moment only between a ghat near the Esplanade to the other side of the Ganges,near the Howrah Station. This wasn't gud news as I could cover even lesser places if I had to travel by road. I thanked them and left after collecting some brochures. I noticed that the state tourism had some interesting trips to places like Sundarbans and even a package at the times of Durga Puja, the major festival here.
Now I had to consult my map quite often because the places had started to get confusing. There were too many narrow lanes which were at points where they were not supposed to be. Atleast according to my map. Now the sun too had come out and it was humid too. I walked along these lanes, crossed over to the other sides still the coffee house wasn't in sight. Finally I enquired at a shop but the shopkeeper was conversant only in Bengali. People in these parts aren't too fond of using Hindi, the national language. And even if they do try it is quite funny and its difficult to keep a straight face in front of them. I took a deep breath and again tried orienting myself with the help of the map, my dearest companion today. I got an inkling of the direction and only after a few meters at a small crossing, there it was- marked by a shiny steel plaque. The India Coffee House. This is one of the cafe not famous for it's coffee or snacks as much as being the place where students in the 70's discussed and brought forward new 'isms'. Once the concepts discussed here used to gather followers all over India. This was like the birth place of revolutionary thoughts of the youth then. After a while many 'India Coffee Houses' cropped up across the country, I think there's one in Delhi and one in some place in Kerala. I entered the place to taste the coffee but without any companion to brainstorm on any issue or 'ism'. There were high chairs and tables around and a self service counter in the front. I ordered a coffee and took some much needed rest after walking on since morning. But now as I looked around this place didn't look like the Coffee House I had seen in a food and travel programme on T.V. That place was much big and there was seating even on first floor where those ceiling fans were hung from double-height ceiling. This was some different place! I think I had goofed up! Well nothing could be done now. I looked around from my high chair and sipped the coffee. Just then my phone started ringing and it was Nivedita. I had met the Roy Chowdharys on a trip to Srilanka the previous year. We all had had fun on the Cook's tour and I was especially fond of their son Aditya. I had noted on the trip that at twelve itself he had developed his own thoughts and opinions on a humanitarian issue we had witnessed in Lanka. So I had informed Nivedita earlier about my trip and she had called to fix a time to meet. When I described my plan for the day she suggested I should meet them for dinner. We planned for around six in the evening as I thought then I could have around two hours with Sudha too. We decided to meet at a place called 'dakshinapan', a shopping centre in the south of the city. This place was down south than Kalighat where I was meeting Sudha so I patted myself for the smart thinking. Finishing the coffee I asked directions to the College Street.
I turned left as instructed and again started to walk. Again this turned out to be an extremely long walk, was I going to spend the day walking? Now the street was lined with kiosks full of books on both sides. Yes this   definitely looked the way I had pictured it after reading it's description. Two of my favourite literary characters Lata and Amit browse for books here selecting a few classics. But as I looked closely these were more of academic books. Now I went from one stall to another inspecting them but they were either law, medicine, engineering, or some competitive exam books. I had specially come here to buy a classic, as a memory of Lata and Amit. The place was abuzz with so many people that it was difficult to move around. I've heard there are many educational institutions on this road, hence this rush, maybe! After maybe looking around for atleast an quarter of an hour I came across a place selling secondhand paper backs. I usually don't go for them for issues of hygiene but here they were going to be a very special memorabilia. There were a few Sidney Sheldons and Daniel Steeles. That type of books. I spotted some Christies in between but they were all the one's I had already read. Finally I came across this book by Eric Newby a compilation of essays on travels, looked quite interesting. I immediately bought it. The next plan of action was to take a ferry ride on the Ganges.

I never miss out on a plan to be on a different element if I could. So I asked around for a tram-stop. Might as well try it till I was in Central Calcutta. Now, these tram stops are extremely difficult to spot, they are these invisible spots where all locals gather and make it a 'stop', I guess.  A girl pointed me to one and I waited to immediately catch one going to Esplanade. Oh wow, the ticket of the tram was so cute. It is a very thin strip of paper like the one's coming out of a shredder. I have no idea what was written on it but I've saved it till date. The tram was now moving back all the way on the route I had walked and I was looking at everything at a very different pace. And I liked it. What an amazing way to look at the world around, such a leisurely pace. All the buzz and activity now looked so interesting to look at, I wanted this tram ride to just go on. I could have sat there for the whole day and looked at people going about their lives. The tram came to a stop at it's final station, the Esplanade. The conductor told me to hop on a bus to the ferry terminus. And I followed his advice.
The ferry terminal wasn't what I expected. One has to go through narrow paths,coming out at an ancient ticket window. I bought a ticket for the Howrah station on the opposite side. This was a chance to view the Howrah Bridge in all it's glory and yes even click some pics. I was planning to take the same ferry back here. I hopped on and the ferry started. All the passengers were locals travelling on purpose. I clicked the Howrah Bridge to my content. This ferry instead of crossing the river was travelling parallel to the edge. The next stop to be on the same side probably so in a moment I decided to alight here as I had already seen the Howrah Bridge and I could save precious time. But as I was getting off,  the whole ferry was looking at me as if what a weird creature. Probably as I was getting off here at the wrong stop. Well I couldn't explain it to them all. I made my way towards the road. There was an old gentleman standing on the road. He was exactly like I  would have imagined a Bengali gentleman through descriptions in books and depictions in films. I asked him about the place from where I could get a bus for Dakshineswar. He immediately told me that it would be on the otherside of the block. I had gathered by now that I was somewhere near the Writer's building, a place I had passed bye in the morning. The old gentleman thought for a minute and then said to follow him. Errr.. I am very trusting type but still I followed him hesitantly. We crossed the roads, passed on through footpaths offering food to all types of office goers. Omg and suddenly I realised it was past one and I was hungry but now there was no time to eat. We passed on and came to the other side, here he stopped a bus. I couldn't see a bus stop anywhere around but the bus stopped on this guy's one shout. He asked the conductor something in Bengali, I think it was if the bus would go all the way to Dakshineswar. I boarded the maroon bus, somewhere between a bus and a mini bus. The gentleman bade me goodbye and I was struck by the person's selfless act. This is what I like about travelling in India, absolute strangers help you out without any selfish motive. The bus was full and I got the only seat in the front row. The best seat. I realised it after a while when the bus took to the maximum speed. The bus started swerving through the crazy traffic and I wanted to hoot aloud. It was super fun, like some mad ride in the fun fair. But I controlled myself, already half of Calcutta must be thinking of me as a mad girl. And there was no need to add to that numbers. This bus zoomed it's way through markets then residential areas, and markets again. Soon the busy modern metropolis surroundings started to change into actually a small town dusty streets. All in a sepia tone. We moved through winding roads with derelict houses embanking them all encompassing a sleepy neighbourhood. The bus stopped near a bridge, the last stop. I was pointed towards a lane taking me towards the Dakhshineswar temple. I reached the premises after a short walk flanked by the usual stalls selling everything from miniatures of the residing deity to garish showpieces to imitation jewellery to refreshments. The place was buzzing with people even on a weekday afternoon. I roamed around to get an idea of the place. The premise is towered by the Kali maa temple, an aggressive incarnation of Parvati, the consort of Shiva. This is where the well known mystic Ramkrishna Paramhansa. He had had his divine vision here and since then the place is flocked by pilgrims and people in spiritual quest. Besides he was also the guru of Swami Vivekananda, the nineteenth century reformist and monk. I was here too because my mother is an admirer of these teacher-student pair and their philosophy. This is actually a reason why I have such a long list of places to visit, because I travel not only for myself but for my mom, for my friends, for the literary characters and everyone else! At the entrance of the temple I came to knew that it opens only at half past three. So I would have to wait here for another half an hour to be able to go inside the sanctum sanctorum. So I retraced my steps to the bathing ghats along the river. The place was full of activity. People were taking dips, some giving offerings, and some kids just playing around with their parents keeping an eye on them. After sometime I made way to a museum in the premises. Ramkrishna Paramhansa's everyday artefacts are preserved here. By now it was time for the temple doors to open and I took my place in the queue.

After the darshan I realised that it was already quarter to four, and how in the world I'm going to reach the Kalighat at four! I called up Sudha and brought her upto date with the situation. She suggested I should directly start for Dakhshinapan as I would just have time to reach there by six. So I came back to the place where I had alighted while coming and quickly took a bus back for Calcutta. Again I got a seat parallel to the driver and why would I complain, I had the best seat in the house. And I was ready to enjoy a very very long drive through Calcutta as my map informed. I was currently at the northernmost point of Calcutta and had to go very very south. The road we were travelling was not the one taken in the noon. I had read in the LP that there is a queer practise here in Calcutta where roads turn into one ways for a particular time of the day. And then the traffic starts running the other day. What fun! I didn't witness this myself but the bus ride was enough. Though this time it was moving at a very decent, but because of the crawling traffic around. The thing I noticed on this slow ride- how poverty was extremely visible here. The scenes play out here everywhere in front of everyone's face. This is not to dismiss poverty from other cities in India but something is different here. Maybe the simplicity of even the people above poverty line ; all adds to the effect. I wondered how much of the communist principles have seeped into the psyche of the public in the thirty odd years of their rule. West Bengal along with Kerala are the states where communist ideology seeds were sown and even took a life of it's own.
This plant then took the forms of elected governments and then went on to rule for substantial periods for their ideologies to seep in. Was all this simplicity and an aversion to capitalist display of wealth coming from that legacy? There were old, derelict structures adding to the effect like some old leftover props on a stage where the actors were definitely on a different tune than the scenes played out anywhere else in India. I really could only speculate on the reasons behind this in the absence of intimate knowledge of the region.
Oye! It was past five and I was living on breakfast till now! That is why these philosophical musings. In all this running about I had skipped lunch and it wasn't going too well with me. I was passing the Sealdeh station now where Sudha and I had boarded the train on the first day of our trip. It now seemed all ages back. I called up Nivedita and updated her with my current location and she was of the opinion that I wouldn't reach Dakhshinapan till atleast quarter past six. And truly the bus was literally crawling now. We were passing the central Calcutta and it was showing. In a while I got down at some market place near the Kalighat. This supposed to be the textile shopping haven. The place had already started to buzz with all the shopping for Durga Puja, Bengal's biggest festival still a month away. Here I consulted my map and my next destination was somewhere outside the map!
This happens so many times with me. Roaming about in a city whether it's London, or Amsterdam I remember going out of the map. Evi, a friend of mine had gone crazy in Amsterdam when she realised we had walked and walked our way out of the maps. She had absolutely refused to go ahead even one step. As I smiled back on that memory I realised the best bet would be to take an autorikshaw to the place. So I stopped at a bus stop to wait but to no avail. There were many people standing there and all with a calmness with the knowledge of where they have to go and how they are going to get there. I was the only one on the verge of panic of the unknown. I so envied them. After a while a lady next to me told me taking a bus would be easier and I followed her advice. Now she told me to get down just past the flyover, she didn't mention there would be more than one! I got down at the wrong one! God would the quota of walking on this day never end? I know I had greedily lapped up everything to see but now I was so very tired after almost twelve hours of being on the move. And I wondered why does this never happen to anyone? People always get down at the right places and are never stranded in the middle of the way. I just gathered all my remaining stamina together and started walking in the direction of my destination.
After a walk of about ten minutes I came to this place, Dakhshinapan. It was now half past six and I called up Nivedita. She was already there and we met in the central open space. She was there with her office colleague, a lady who immediately made a positive impression on me. She was so quintessentially Bengali, dignified and sweet too. Nivedita was addressing her as 'didi' so I too did the same. We started to move towards the shops. The place is full of different State government's textile enterprises. I had to pick up a gift for my mum and as we entered the shops I had already started feeling good. As it is shopping is pleasure but picking up something for others is absolutely delightful.
After we finished our shopping there was a suggestion of tea and we moved towards an auditorium next door where they were serving tea outside. I wandered around to see the posters of some play based on the Nobel laureate Rabindranath's play. I think they were celebrating his 150th birth anniversary at that time. We had some nice refreshing tea and then moved to a temporary handicrafts exhibition where we shared a chaat, a salt and sweet savoury. Ohh this tasted better than it was and  it was heaven, all because of my hunger. By this time bhaiyya and Aditya were on their way to pick us up on our way for dinner.
We persuaded didi to come with us and it was fun all the way. Again I enjoyed my conversation with Aditya, so clear in his thoughts as always. We all chose our dinner from the menu and relaxed for nice, relaxed conversation bouncing from Bhutan to the local flavours and just about everything. I wanted to taste one of the many famous sweets of Bengal and we skipped dessert and moved out to a famous sweet shop. I had 'mishti doi' , a kind of sweet yoghurt served here in clay bowls. Wow, it was amazing but by now I had started feeling drowsy. I tried to persuade the Roy Chowdharys to not to come all the way to Howrah to drop me as they live down south and it would be really out of the way for them. They are too kind for that and came all the way. I actually appreciate it more than any usual situation as I was so extremely tired then. I bade my goodbye and said thanks for a enjoyable evening.

Now as I came up to my room I had energy to just about reach the bed and drop off to sleep. No thoughts, no reflections, just heavenly deep sleep.

Part 10 August 15,16th 2011

Guwahati-Calcutta.

We woke up to some hustle bustle at the gymkhana behind our rest house. They had had an early morning flag hoisting ceremony and the place was full of members taking advantage of the holiday to use all the facilities. We had our train at noon so we freshened up and had our staple butter toast with black tea. Sudha wanted some emergency medicines and we decided to go around the corner to get some fresh air too. The receptionist did greet us with a raised eyebrow when we ventured out. We realised later that the time till noon is especially sensitive as it is then the traditional period of flag hoisting. The roads were completely deserted excluding the gun toting army personnel at every corner. Today I feel quite strange looking back as it didnt affect us then, two girls roaming as if they had no care in the world. Finishing our chores we returned back to pack our things and rest before the start of the journey. Sudha came with the idea of having a light meal as we might not get anything ahead in the journey and it was a way to kill time. We had some rice curry and decided to move out and wait the remaining time at the railway station.
Carrying our luggage we moved towards the station next door and came across two army personnel checking some passenger's luggage a few yards outside the station. We passed them and when not stopped decided it must be random checking. Ahead there were metal detectors to check the baggage and beyond that each and every piece of luggage entering the railway station premises was being checked! Hmmm.. This was the reason for random checks outside! As we were getting the luggage checked the security personnel started enquiring about our train and immediately informed us that 'ALL TRAINS ARE CANCELLED!!!' Now this was something absolutely shocking. Since yesterday we were killing time to get out of here because of this shutdown and now this. Still we decided not to lose hope and get the information right from the horse's mouth. At the enquiry counter we first came across a white board hastily written over with pink felt. The news was anything but pink. One after the other all trains were cancelled and amongst this the only silver lining was that our train, the Saraighat Express along with the Rajdhani were actually postponed and were to leave the next day at six in the morning. Really!!
A person was there behind the desk and we asked about the information displayed. He first gave us a look-over and then made his disapproval clear to us.
" what are you two girls doing here?"-
"not even a dog is on the streets and you two girls are roaming around!!"
This kind man with a sharp tongue wanted to convey us the foolishness in being there at the railway station at 'that' time. He was more than surprised firstly that we had booked a train on the Independance day and then expected to board it too. No train had arrived or departed from the Guwahati station on Independance day in his living memory. Quite shocked ourselves we thanked this stranger who was so genuinely concerned for us and then after confirming about the departure of our train the next day at dawn we exited the eerily empty railway station.
Retracing our steps we were back at our hotel, to again book a room for the day. It seemed Guwhahti didnt want to let us go. Thankfully this time we got the same room and didnt have to go through the whole procedure of getting it cleaned again. At the same time a young  Bengali couple was checking in too and the wife was volubly complaining about the cancelled and delayed trains. She told us that they had been visiting Meghalaya just like us and had made a hasty dash to the station to catch the noon train. They looked quite tired, especially the husband who was carrying all the luggage as the wife had blisters in her feet after a day's trek or something. The privileges some people have!
We retired to our respective rooms, on the way carrying the day's newspaper with us. I read the local news with amusement as only a person ignorant to those issues can be. There was especially an interesting article written on the lack of development done during the years the country had been independent. I pointed out to Sudha how it was an opinionated article rather than a report based on facts. Sudha who has worked with reputed newspapers was duly impressed, atleast I think so. After a while she dozed off and I entertained myself with watching the movie 'Hangover'. In a while Sudha too got up due to my continuous guffaws. Still the evening was just starting and we were at our wits end about how to occupy ourselves. I was just as sad about tomorrow which would now be wasted and I would get just a day in Calcutta!
On the way to tea Sudha chatted with the receptionist and tried to get some suggestions about going out. He was quite against the idea of anyone going out even for a stroll on this day. Then we got an idea about the situation through him. The extremist point of view was to not recognise themselves as part of India as not a treacle of development had reached them in more than half a century of independence. And there was no point in celebrating the Independence day if the nation itself wasn't recognised. We sympathised with the people and their hardships but not their viewpoint or ideology. Sudha asked this guy after a while if by chance he knew any person with such an separatist viewpoint and his answer was "Maybe."
We had tea and as if in a trance Sudha got up and said "Lets go out." And I never say no. When we were around the corner from our hotel, we saw a bus going to Kamakhya, ready to board. And even before I could say or even think of anything my 'mature, steady, sensible' friend was moving towards it at a pace and inturn before the end of the minute we were onboard. Wow! As the bus moved ahead I encountered what a 'curfew' must be. There were gun toting security personnel everywhere but as we reached the road parallel to the Brahmaputra river the situation was a little better. Atleast a few civilians were visible.  In the circumstances the bus ride was quite exciting and there were butterflies in our stomach. We were sitting in our usual seat parallel to the driver and in a while his curiosity gave away and he enquired about us. When he came to knew that we were just killing time he suggested that we take the same bus back from Kamakhya. He would be making the return journey in half an hour and hence we would be back in the city before dark. Again I felt the kindness and concern of this fellow human being and it changed my mood from anxious excitement to pure joy. We reached Kamakhya and were surprised to see quite a few people there. We had earlier decided to walk down the hill and catch the bus wherever it crosses us but on the way up we noticed few young boys quite drunk and creating a racket. So we dropped the idea and just strolled down a few hundred meters. Here we actually came across a view point where we could see the whole Brahmaputra valley. The vista was so beautiful, green after the rains and with the blue serpentine moving amongst it. We could also make out the Guwahati cricket stadium. After enjoying the view we walked back to the bus stop and boarded it to wait for it to fill and start its journey back.
We werent expecting so many people but the bus was full of pilgrims from as far as Bihar. They were going to wait at the railway station till dawn, many of them probably just sitting in wait of the train. This intense, complete 'faith' never ceases to amaze me. Will I ever possess it?
It was twilight by the time we returned. An apt end for the trip, an end hopefully. Now without being too adventurous we made way towards the safety of our hotel. It was time to relax, forget about the inconvinience of that day, and adjust to a dinner without our favourite paneer. Another casualty of the Independence day. Just when we thought the day had ended more predictably than it had started we had a knock on the door. Sudha and I had already called it a day and were quite surprised by this unexpected disturbance. We had had a safe trip until now without any untoward disturbance towards our safety and now..."its me, its me!"
Ohh this was that Bengali wife we had met in the morning! She entered with the force we were expecting from our Saraighat Express in the morning. She introduced herself again and then started a conversation with us. Although she did majority of the talking and we had to bear with almost all her life's story we enjoyed this intervention. After gently coaxing her to end this interlude as we had a train to catch at five in the morning we finally called it a day.

August 16th 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day started with a little thought eating away, 'what if the train is cancelled today too?' Yet we pushed it at the back of our mind and started for the train station in time. The bengali couple was with us too, again the husband picking every piece of luggage and the wife making a big effort to walk with him. I counted the  no. of hands he had, just to be sure. Anyways it was no time to be wicked, our anxiety was making us speed up towards the station. Outside there was a long queue of army trucks and buses, all full and ready to move. Maybe to a new destination, to douse some new fire. The station was in complete contrast to yesterday, at this early hour the place was buzzing with activity. The Rajdhani to Delhi and our Saraighat Express to Calcutta were both waiting on the platforms. Only these two and hence the rush. We entered our boogie to find it about half full. And that was the state even as we left Guwahati. Maybe the other passengers had made other arrangements yesterday itself. There was a north eastern girl with us and she too in a while moved to some other compartment to be with her friends. So it was just Sudha and me and the lush green rice fields of Assam outside. It was a pleasure to go click, click, click. People wearing that Mandarin hat and bamboo poncho toiling in the fields. The conversation also moved to the activity. I find farming one of the hardest, noblest, necessary, compassionate, professions. What could be more beautiful than feeding humans, working along with nature and hands full of earth too.Also it is something where humans stay humble in front of the force of nature because of their constant dependence on it.  I would love to do it but I'm quite lazy and irresponsible for it . Unlike Sudha who is very serious and has concrete plans to pursue it at her place in Kerala. In a very short period we crossed into West Bengal. The scene was exactly same only with different hue of green to it's fields. That is when it realised on me that somehow every state in India has a different shade of green to it and that it is what make them unique and belonged at the same time.
As we were agreeing on this phenomenon we neared that dreadful 'Alipurduar' station. Reliving all those memories, spotting where we had stood and what thoughts had passed through our minds. The station didn't look so dreadful today during the day. Maybe the night when combined with the situation had played that trick on us. We bade it a happy goodbye as the train moved out of the station. Sudha was now reliving her earlier journey a decade before. She was getting excited pointing one landmark after other. Then I heard all about this fantastic sweet rice dumplings she had had on this very route on one of the stations ahead. Village women come with their steamer and make them there and then when the train arrives. So we started a vigil for them at every approaching station.
It was noon by now and the train used to slow for a while and then halt for a while. By now it was a mystery about the time when we would reach Calcutta. We heard all kind of theories with water logging on the tracks or heavy rains ahead. But time and again trains from the other directions too passed us and surely that was a positive sign. All this train traffic made me wonder; it was in complete contrast with the economic situation all around. When people don't have their basic necessities catered to, do they really need this? Then the Railway Ministry was with the political party from these parts. Maybe hence this extravagance in newly built stations, choc a bloc running trains. Keeping the matter aside I started pestering Sudha on information about Calcutta.
Sudha has spent a few years in Calcutta when she was working for the Telegraph and hence an apt person to guide me. We had chalked out a rough plan when we were supposed to have two days in Calcutta. But now the whole thing was dependant on this train reaching Howrah! Still I had one day in hand and Sudha started guiding me about the best route, mode of transport, etc. We were still keeping an eye on the coming stations for that 'puttu'-sweet rice dumplings. Finally in the evening, just before approaching the New Jalpaigiri station we heard those village ladies call out. Sudha excitedly bought those dumplings but immediately realised these were different. Definitely not like the one's in her memory.
Suppressing our disappointment we just hoped that this train would reach Calcutta at a decent time. We had looked for places to stay for me nearer in the city. This is the most uncomfortable part for me in a travel, staying alone in a hotel room. I feel extreme discomfort in the situation. The LP suggested some places, and also recommended the Yatri Niwas. It is like a guest house run by the Indian Railways and anything government atleast gives me some sanity at the place as against private hotels. So we decided to check it first thing next morning and then decide the plan ahead. On this note we called it a day and went off to sleep without any idea when the night would end.

Part 9 August 14th

Shillong-Guwahati

Repeating yesterday morning's itinerary, we had our breakfast at the same place but wisely minus the milky tea. As we were proceeding towards the bus station we were accosted by the 'shared jeep' touts and as we peeped inside the middle seat seemed empty. Promptly we jumped in. After a while the jeep was full and we started our downhill journey towards Guwahati. Shillong was looking more appeasing in the early morning mist and we reached the outskirts of Guwahati without incidence and in a peaceful slumber. We had had a break for tea in between and it had been refreshing. Here Sudha had noticed the excessive plastic waste around. Everywhere the eyesore was there majorly in the form of 'use and throw' plastic glasses. Usually I dont have these vehement feelings towards it but this time even I was upset, that would point towards the extent of Sudha's disgust. 
As we were entering the city limits of Guwahati, we saw vehicles crawling ahead. After a while we saw an army contingent ahead checking every vehicle entering the city limits. In turn our jeep too stopped and we were asked to get down minus our luggage. And here's my luck, because my bag was locked they wanted to check it! And respecting the uniform I opened the bag and these people rummaged inside it for a while. Satisfied, we were on our way again. This is a routine incident in these parts but for people coming from comparatively peaceful parts of India it is quite disturbing. Though it was the kind of situation one doesn't digest immediately and the only after effect was a subdued-ness settling down with me n Sudha. 
Taking in the sights of Guwahati with its malls and cinemas and shops we moved ahead. Having not decided on the place of stay we decided to get down at the last stop, Pallika Bazaar. In between Sudha noticed a posh hotel but by the time both of us debated on the matter our jeep had already moved ahead.
We reached the same spot from where we had embarked on our journey  day before yesterday. Without thinking too much, subconsciously we started moving through the busy market towards the government guest house we had occupied earlier. On the way Sudha noticed a hotel we had come across in the LP and she thought we should try it out. Leaving me with our luggage she went to check out the rooms. When she came back she was quite optimistic about the place but in this time that I was alone my mind was on all the dots we were presented since yesterday and without an conscious effort from me my mind was busy joining them. Last month while surfing channels I remembered hearing news about Delhi and Guwahati being on alert on the Independence day. But as one hardly registers dangers related to far off places I had only registered it in my subconscious mind. Now on this hazy canvas we had a clear picture painted by the man at the bus station warning us off, the grim faced security personnel checking every vehicle. As a result I very aggressively told Sudha that it would be best if we don't stay in the midst of a market place and the best bet would be the familiar tourist guest house. We moved on, crossed over to the other side of the railway station and reached the tourist rest house with such peace, only a little less than home coming. 
After freshening up, the creatures of habit had the customary Paneer Butter Masala. We had noticed the bathroom tiles being quite greasy and here returning from the restaurant Sudha complained about it at the front desk. We had had long discussions about the state of these government-run establishments- the dilapidation inspite of good locations and unobstructed capital flow. The negligence and apathy of the staff is appalling. We were informed that the house keeping staff would be sent up and accordingly in a while two supervisors and one cleaner was there. Now this whole event is worth description. The cleaner equipped with abundant cleaning powder and instruments was left to do his work,meanwhile the supervisers were busy chatting outside in the corridor. Here enters my enthusiastic friend- to my absolute utter surprise Sudha actually started supervising the cleaner. Even though there was a communication gap with the cleaner speaking only Assamese, Sudha still managed to get across with her limited knowledge of Bengali. She absolutely gave him a crash course on cleaning, herself an extremely neat person. And the guy too proved to be an ideal student  cleaning everything including the fittings to the bucket and tumbler with zeal. Sudha is one such person who always amazes me with so many of  her qualities, so common but still so uncommon. The way she is interested in every human around her, and not just interest she has as much empathy and curiosity about them. I could almost say that she had befriended this guy, just a teenager. In the course she had enquired about his home, family, education, career prospects, about everything and imparted some really well meaning advice. Though I'm not one of them one comes across these friends of universe and is touched by their well meaning and unbiased advice. I have. After this training session, both of us dozed off and rested till almost tea time. 
By tea time we ventured outside for a stroll. Though not very tired we werent in a mood for sightseeing. Also enquiries at the reception lead us to believe it to be quite unsafe to venture far off. We first made our way to the State's handicrafts shop. I wanted to buy the Mekhala-Chadar, the traditional attire of Assamese women, for my mom. This dress is similar to a saree. One or two pieces were interesing but Sudha suggested I check out the Calcutta Market too. We then moved towards the park and the lake visible from our balcony. Orienting ourselves we reached it. The place was holding some function, and we thought the occasion must be  the Independence day eve. I loved the artificial animal statues there and after trying the swings in the children's park we went for a stroll along the lake. Compared to other parks around the place was well maintained, especially clean. Still it wasnt exactly Wards Lake. We rested on a bench and started chitchatting about anything -from far off ideologies to observations about people sitting around us. The lake has boating facilities and many were making use of it. The whole place was lively in that sense still we had a sub conscious feeling of the trip ending and tomorrow noon couldn't come faster. In our minds we had already started moving towards Calcutta. The day ended uneventfully.