A nudge to remember

My watch showed 8:15. I was rushing home after the morning walk thinking of the short time I had in hand to reach the office. May be a packed breakfast today will  save time. I was also motivating myself that the weather had changed and now I needed to be a little less lazy and finish the morning routine before it was time for kids to get ready for school. Lost in thoughts I quickly passed by the old lady as she walked laboriously towards home. I could have stopped and walked the next 100 yards together but then I had already greeted her and exchanged pleasantries in the park itself and now I was literally running towards home. I had barely gone a few yards when I heard her say “beta jara mujhe paar kara dena, aj bilkul chala nahi jata”. I stopped, a little ashamed, then held her hand and walked together very slowly. In the course of the next hundred yards and ten minutes she revealed that her arthritic knees had inflamed and today she had come despite pain. And she was scared about crossing the patch of road where water was flowing courtesy a broken pipeline underneath, near the edge. She also wondered why so many officers living nearby had not bothered to complain when everyone was so concerned about “saving water.”   I almost blushed again, this time with guilt.

At the corner, as I took leave and we said goodbye to each other, she whispered again, “Mai soch rahi thi kisko bulau, kaise chalu per Rabji (God) ne tuhanu bhejia.”  The profound affection in her eyes really made my day. And not to forget that today And I made it a point to lodge a complaint for that leaking pipe. Sometimes a little nudge full of love is indeed needed to keep our conscience awake.!!   

The drawbacks of being shy

I am a very shy person. I don’t make friends very easily. Even with friends I take time to open up but that’s not all I am unable to show how much I love them or like them or how much I care for them. Whatever I will do for them I do them following the diktats of my heart and once done I don’t ever feel that I have done something extraordinary. Similarly at my workplace my friends are few, I don’t go around calling on officers, appreciating the décor of their room, or how handsome or beautiful they looked that day in their expensive designer dresses or how blessed they were to have such beautiful wives or genius kids. But this has been my greatest drawback. People especially those related officially have inferred that I m unsocial and full of ego…..but can I change…..appears impossible ……I am still a child  at heart …..who fears whether the school teacher will fire him following the day of submission of an assignment ….telling how dumb he was and how hopeless his essay had been. Believe me friends I am still in that stage…..Really…..the other day I mustered enough courage and presented a copy of the book I had penned down “The Unfortunate kidnapping” to a very reputed IFS officer who was also my course coordination during probation days. And believe me that night I could not sleep thinking how foolish I had been to gift him the book, what would he think on reading it….how childish my writings were….and so many things……The next two days I spent thinking how would I face him when I would attend his lecture. And when he arrived for the lecture I hardly looked at him and quickly slipped out during the tea break……But as luck would have it …..some of my colleagues standing in the verandah and sipping tea with him beckoned me animatedly as I was passing through the corridor on the first floor. Nervous and apprehensive I was forced to join them….only to find out that the same officer (my course coordinator) had been looking for me….I threw a nervous glance at him….and to my utter surprise I found him extending his hand for a shake with profuse compliments for my book and writing skills, comparing with the feel he got while reading my book…that of none other than Ruskin Bond……and friends I could not sleep for the next two days ago…..this time due to some unexplainable joy!!! 

MISPLACED JUDGEMENT

For the last few days he was drawing my attention, restlessly roaming around near the edges of the slip road near the power sub-station. His demeanour was not at all striking, middle aged with a lean frame, dressed in a crumpled white shirt, baggy black pants, a yellow cap on his head and nude pumps in his feet. He would be visible for a few seconds and then mysteriously disappear from view, mingling with the crowd of passer bys on the busy road. The windows of my room perhaps had sensed my curiosity towards the fellow and were somehow able to telepathically communicate with my mind, forcing me to throw a quick glance outside whenever he was in the range of my vision......

My educated mind, would always dive into the ocean of probabilities....to find out one that would fit into his innocuous ways......did he work in the huge sawmill across the road, did he own a teashop near the pavement, was he employed in the power sub- station.........But his carefree ways ruled out him being an employee anywhere, for he never looked enslaved to the watch. He could be seen, merrily pacing up and down, near the slip road any time of the day he felt his limbs needed to stretch.....but it was only his looks that were slightly confusing as he appeared to gaze at something distant rather forlornly. A girl....I chuckled and hurriedly scanned around, only to find two dogs lazily enjoying their afternoon siesta under the electric tower nearby. Humans in the vicinity were visible only on two wheelers, three wheelers and four wheelers racing away to their destinations, speedily and single mindedly,........ leaving me downcast, at the likeliest of the probabilities being shot down without a warning.

The fellow too disappeared and I allowed my thoughts to gather and compose themselves and not rush to irrational conclusions. An hour passed by and I felt relaxed and calmed, when suddenly he made a fleeting appearance again, this time hurriedly running across the road and disappearing into thin air. My mind was again active, this time it worked like that of an educated citizen....is he surveying something, the important office buildings located nearby, the bus stop, the sub-station....conducting an organised recce, noting down every detail in his cunning mind for something......I shuddered at the thought of a terror incident in the vicinity of my office...was a proactive decision from myside the need of the hour, my mind was totally cluttered and in no position to take any intelligent decision. So I relied to retreat into a state of blissful ignorance for sometime...perhaps a cool mind coupled with a state of inertness was the pressing need of the hour.

I pulled my chair near the window and looked at the sky and the slight drizzle. The water in the temporary pond (on the adjacent plot) had receded and was now only ankle deep. A drongo was enjoying her bath right in the centre, with a pair of red wattled lapwings, hurriedly wading through towards the shade of the overarching branches of the enormous neem tree. As I watched them disappear, three buffaloes entered the arena, enormous creatures, black and shiny from a recent scrub bath, they were gingerly standing near the edge of the water, along with their faithful escorts, three white herons, tugging at their heels, not willing to risk their security, even for a minute.! The huge creatures looked as indecisive as my mind, whether they wanted to crossover to the other side through the muddy waters or they could take a slight detour and cross the hundred odd meters through the muck, onto the relative safety of the road. The biggest one in the centre seemed to have made her mind, and was gingerly stepping into the waters, when......appeared the prime suspect....with a stick in his hands.....tactfully withdrawing the three erring animals....and hurriedly leading them diagonally onto the road. All my near inferences and lopsided conclusions,that were on the verge of crystalising had crumbled in the two minutes he took in taking control of his animals. He could not wait for the signal to turn green...for the men behind the wheels had control over the brakes......he had only his stick and commands at his disposal...so the traffic waited, and he and his illustrious companions were given the privileged right of way! My eyes followed them as if in a trance...... they crossed and reached the edge of the park, where a cart and a horse too were waiting. The poor fellow hurriedly tried to put the harness and the horse together, when the rain came thumping down, blinding my vision through the windows. I pulled my chair back towards my table, and laughed silently at all the foolish thoughts I had harboured about the fellow and wondered if the cart he was harnessing, was to be used for ferrying the three buffaloes home? I quickly imagined the sight it would present and allowed myself a hearty laugh before the more serious office files on the table, nudged all the childish thoughts away!!!!

 

Little Joys

 

They fascinate me with their beauty,

They motivate me with their heights,

 For reasons unknown,

They attract me always,

The roads coiling around their bellies,

Beckons me,

Come along my child they whisper,

The voice which only I sometimes hear,

 

And when I can’t resist the urge to meet them,

 I follow them,

Drawn like the mouse to the Pied Piper,

But do they drown me?

Oh yes they do,

In the myriad boles of the stately deodars,

In the rugged branches of the friendly oaks,

In the song of the magpies and the whistle of the thrushes,

I don’t mind getting lost in the milky mist,

As the ethereal affection descends on me,

Caressing my face with that sublime touch,

And when I begin to regain my senses,

The resinous smell of the pines takes over,

I pick up a fallen cone,

And like a child delighted,

With an elusive toy coming his way,

I walk again,

A little lost,

A little dazed,

Till I reach a road again….

(Pratima Srivastava)

 

A few days ago I was attending a workshop. As I made my way back into the hall after the lunch break and was settling down on my seat….a patch of blood on the note book and the pen in my hand surprised me. Thinking that I had crushed a mosquito inadvertently underneath the note book…..I showed my blood stained thumb to my colleague sitting next to me and rushed towards the washroom to wash my hand. A few seconds after keeping my thumb under running water I realised that the blood wasn’t that of a dead mosquito, it was oozing out from a tiny but deep cut in my own  thumb. In my anxiety to rush back to the conference hall  so that I did not miss marking the all important attendance sheet for the session….I assumed that it must have been a rough edge of the handle of the washroom door and safely pressed my thumb against a handkerchief till it stopped bleeding. Now when I look back at that pretty ordinary incident something pricks me and tells me it is always easy to rely on a convenient presumption and remain in a state of blissful ignorance…. our own actions at times lead to hurt which we are unable to see….. Friends do read the book to explore all shades of human emotions…

Bottom of Form

 

An excerpt from the story Pebbles of Turbulence from my book "The Unfortunate kidnapping-tales of destiny"

The ten minute journey back home looked like hours long. On reaching home he had expected that his worried wife would be there at the gate, waiting. But there was no one, except Samir who was wandering in the verandah, alone. He opened the door and took the bag of medicines from his gandpa’s hands. Babuji had to hold Rani by the shoulder and escort her to her room as Mallika came rushing down from the roof to offer help. She took off Rani’s slippers and lay her in bed, with the father clutching her tightly, close to his heart. Samir came and affectionately held her hand and gently massaged her back, his tender mind appeared to have read some unpleasant message in his grandpa’s eyes.

The beauty of the undefined and the unresolved...........

It is said that blood  is thicker than water….absolutely it is….can anyone disagree? But then there is something else…something difficult to define.. which adds to the charm  and beauty of such relations….I have a few such experiences which have reinforced my belief in that something undefinable… and the last I had  a week ago. I was on my way to Chandigarh to attend a meeting scheduled the next day. Tired and bored after the long journey from Ferozepur….I was dozing off intermittently…extremely short sessions of sleep I stole…as subconsciously I knew it was criminal to occupy the front seat next to the driver and sleep even if it was for a few seconds. I had reached Ludhiana and was caught in the mad and reckless traffic of the city. My vehicle had crawled towards the Samrala chowk and I was slumped in my seat…desperately trying to keep my eyes open by engaging in some conversation with the driver on how much time it took always to cross the city…..on how many years it would be before the unfinished under construction fly overs would be operational regulating the traffic flow and reducing the congestion. I craned my neck to stare at the driver of a passing vehicle only and only when the driver attempted something too daring…some breathtaking  manouvers, otherwise I let it rest in the sleep mode I was in. But I don’t know, out of a sudden impulse I straightened up and looked at the driver of the neighbouring car who was driving in his lane if there was any…in perfect order….and I was in for a pleasant surprise…it was my younger brother at the steering. Though I knew I was driving through the city where he lived but seeing him in traffic and that too at a time when he was expected to be in office was puzzling. I immediately rolled down my window and like a child shouted his name….and can you believe… I might be too childish….foolish and sentimental but he too saw me at once and rolled down his window…In the honking traffic we were in I could easily ask where he was going but as he was driving, he asked me to stop at a stop a little ahead…..and then I asked the driver to give way to his car…and follow him….till we reached the decided stop. Once there, we had a brief chat, … ten minutes in all …..I had no time to stop over at his place for lunch …. …but the happiness and the energy that I felt afterwards is beyond words. For the rest of my two hour journey I was cheerful…upbeat..and wide awake….lost in thoughts…of time gone by…of our childhood days and also wondering what was that invisible force, that impulse that made me suddenly peep out of the window at that juncture…in that crazy traffic where there were 6-7 rows of vehicles of all kinds trying to overtake each other….I am still looking for some sensible reason….but I would be happy …even if I don’t find any…some things are beautiful…when they remain unresolved…

The big heist....

This incident took place many years ago. I must have been around 10 then but my memory remains very sharp and vivid as far as revisiting instances such as these are concerned. It was during the summer vacations when the entire extended family had gathered in our native village where my grandmother lived with my uncle and his family. In all, the children gang comprised of 16 members with my oldest cousin brother at 21 and the youngest at a year and a half. The girl gang had a strength of six with the leader Munni didi, 16.

Over the years, we the girls had come to a conclusion that the granny was biased towards the boys ie our brothers. This had been inferred by a careful study of her behaviour when it came to distribution of any goodies to all of us. It had always been observed that the boys got a better deal, whether it was the sweets, the mangoes or even the steaming paranthas for breakfast. They very always the first to be served and more often than not when the turn of the girls came the prized ones had always been polished off, leaving us glum faced at the apartheid being practised. Sometimes our leader mildly protested to the granny but her teary eyed response at such a “baseless allegations” being labelled against her in her words always made us feel so guilty that we had reconciled with our fortune or lack of it.  We had become very understanding and instead of blaming her, her bias was attributed to the fact that she had no daughters of her own, she had been married off very young at 12 and all her life she had lived with the boys.

But one day our patience wore off. We decided to change our fortune. Over the years we had borne with her behaviour but now it was decided enough was enough. So it was decided that something needed to be done not only to lift our morale but also to have our slice of the cake which was so blatantly being denied to us. And after carefully weighing all the available options, the readily available delicacy of milk was finalised. And no it was not ordinary milk that had caused a change of heart and strategy. For those of us unaware of the richness of the milk those days, let me give you an idea of the taste and the aroma it possessed. Every morning, the milk was kept in an earthen vessel and left to boil on a slow fire for 20-24 hours on fire stoked of a little pack of cow dung cakes in a hole scooped in the earth in the small room behind the kitchen. The hole itself was covered with a thick earthen cover in which a few holes had been punched. The milk simmered over this fire and by the time it was distributed to the children next day, it would be thick, rich and wonderfully aromatic.

As usual the boys queue always walked away with the top layer of thick creamy milk. By the time the granny turned towards us, the quantity too fluctuated from a small cup to a few spoonful depending upon our luck!

 On the day the big heist was planned, the unsuspecting granny was dutifully escorted to the family well around 100 yards away for her daily bath by two of us. A guard was also kept at the door so that nothing untoward happened if God forbid she returned earlier than expected. The granny normally took 45 minutes to have her bath and return home after offering her puja. So the entire secret operation had to be done in these precious 45 minutes. Once she was away, the leader was on the job. And it was not easy because all our aunts around had not been taken into confidence except one. On her rested the secondary responsibility of taking the other three away while we carried out our mission. Once this was accomplished, we broke onto the room by quietly opening the heavy latches and bolted it from inside. There was no electricity then and the room had no windows either except for a small ventilator at the top. Therefore a torch had been carried in. The lid was opened and there it was…the smoky…..thick…mildly sweet….milk with floating malai…..The four of us inside had a real treat…and licked the bowls clean in the dim light of the torch. With jumping hearts and delighted taste buds, we came out one by one….with our leader proudly smuggling out a bowlful under her dupatta for the two of us standing guard at the door. Now it was time to give the message of the mission being successful to the aunt who was a willing partner in our crime. Excitedly she was beckoned  and informed and profusely thanked but wait…..she had a question for the inexperienced malaichors….have you made up the volume? She asked. Oh we had never given it a thought and before any of us could respond, she was off…with a jug of water….and no prizes for guessing.. where the water went!!!

A SPECIAL JOURNEY

It was a difficult decision to make. To travel or not to travel, when the fog was blinding and visibility nil. Even before venturing out on the road it was amply  clear that the fog today had descended on the city lock, stock and barrel. This I could easily deduce, as no matter how much I strained my eyes through the partially translucent window of my room, my faithful green friends in the park behind had been rendered invisible today. I could only feel their presence by the sound of their rustling leaves in the chilly wind which had arrived in the city the preceding night, armed with heavy bag and baggage. Intermittently it rained, not due to any visible clouds but due to the fog dripping from the trees and other objects that stood out in the open, braving the chill in public, cursing their luck in private.

But when it comes to call of duty, such  decisions are a trifle easier to make. As one has a ready excuse to fall back upon if things go wrong along the way. With a hundred thoughts flitting through my mind, I was on the road. The driver on his part had presented an emphatic assurance that he had no problem driving in such conditions, as he had seen many such winters in his long driving career. As an extra precaution though, I occupied the front seat as a voluntary navigator for him. The journey began with a minor hitch, the heating system of the vehicle had a minor glitch. Luckily it was resolved, it had to be, for it was absolutely essential, not to warm the occupants of the vehicle, who were armed with layers and layers of woollens, but to keep the rear glass frost free. The lights dutifully switched on, we were on our way. I had to continuosly strain my eyes to discover that a road existed beyond the bonnet of the vehicle on which the vehicle would keep glued to no matter how deep and wide the potholes were. Occasionally I looked left and right to see if there were trees which could indicate the width and curvature of the road as it twists and turns around the fields and dances over the many canals that dot the terrain. That we were moving was palpable only when another vehicle came across from the opposite direction. Numerous groups of children waiting on the roadside for their school conveyance caught my attention and I had all my sympathies for the little soldiers.. Following faithfully behind the vehicle just ahead helped us cover small distances but unfortunately most of them ditched us barely after we had travelled a few kilometres together. We lost our way a couple of times as the driver very thoughtfully took to the village roads and avoided the dicey main road which is a challenge to negotiate even in the best of weather. Two hours passed by and surprisingly I was not at all bored, busy as I had been navigating, and I was at my destination.

Going inside the wetland on a boat was an easy decision after the difficult journey just undertaken successfully. The fog ensured that the limited waters of the wetland resembled a sea with no distinction between the horizon and the surrounding waters visible. It was literally water, water everywhere as far as our eyes could see. The vast expanse of water, the bone chilling cold and almost zero visibility made me put on the life jacket as I took to the boat. In the hindsight, I feel that wearing the jacket was more of a psychological security, for God forbid had the boat capsized, the freezing waters below would have frozen all the life forms that once occupied the boat! Icy winds blew across my face and I shivered despite being covered in layers of woollens from head to toe. My teeth chattered constantly and I had to make a lot of effort even to utter a few words to the staff. The sound of the engine overpowered the call of the birds. Small flocks waded across, calling noisily, perhaps cursing the cold which had followed them from their native places. A bunch of glossy ibises flew in front of the boat only to rest on the bare branches of the shrubs behind. The egrets and the herons hid their heads and rested as the boat passed in front of them. In between I had to feel my cheeks with my hand to make sure that they existed, numbed they had been by the cold. The patrolling continued for more than an hour till I decided that discretion was always the better part of valour…Now the fog was even clouding my vision as it was settling on my glasses. Should we return, I asked. The answer was an instant chorus of yes! And the boat immediately started its way towards the nose…the area which acts as the jetty! Though the speed was slow, as the engine was in danger of running out of the fuel. Getting off the boat was a real respite and I looked for fire and ran towards the area where the staff has a tiny hearth where they make tea and warm themselves. It was cold and I had an equally cold glare for the people around me. They could have been a little thoughtful I thought. They hurried and somehow located a few ambers on which a few twigs were quickly laid. A matchstick was also discovered within the conveyor belt of the hyacinth removing machine. In their eagerness to find a piece of paper to light those twigs, moist due to the fog, they came with an empty carton of a ………..bottle of alcohol. For a second, I was taken aback, but then at this moment silence was golden. The fire was burning and I settled on the chair, pulled underneath that machine, and warmed my frozen hands. I was quite puzzled though, as the other occupants of the staff had disappeared from my sight into the little room when they could have easily joined me by the fire. The blue empty carton came back to my mind……..but I nudged it away, as the leaping flames of the little fire warmed both my hands and my heart!!!

THE BOAT RIDE...

The earthy waters of the mighty Beas,

Cradled my rugged boat that day,

I hated the ghirring of the motor engine,

For it downed the lullaby the river crooned for me,

The afternoon sun played hide and seek,

For a change,

Not with the clouds in the sky,

But with the waves around me,

The den and the hiders remained busy,

Oblivious to the millions of sparkling diamonds

Floating around,

For they knew,

That these could only be stolen in memories,

That could fill many a sack and rack,

That could be cherished without any fear,

Today, tomorrow and forever!

The pair of pied kingfishers,

Frolicked in front of my boat,

And then settled on that delicate reed just across,

Swinging wildly at intervals,

Deliberately wetting their tails,

Every time the reed bent down into the waters below!

The engine suddenly grumbled and stopped,

Indicating that we were now in shallow waters,

And the silt was eager to get ashore,

By clinging on to their friendly boat,

I smiled at my luck,

As the oars made their way into the chilly waters,

Like little children,

Shivering fearfully before taking their baths,

On those winter mornings!

The gulls and the coots swarmed around,

The large egrets too craned their necks,

For the familiar sound of the engine,

Had been replaced by the rasping sound of the wooden oars,

Slapping the waters around and below,

A flock of crows cawed in the skies above,

Eager to get home after a hard day away,

 I wondered why I was in no hurry at all,

Was it because those diamonds had already been stolen,

As the evening had fallen,

But then I had my pockets full,

Of memories of their uncountable numbers jostling around,

May be because I knew,

That I had still many riches to gather,

For the moon and the stars were still to appear,

May be another day,

Another evening I said to myself,

As my boat sailed ashore,

Away from the loving cradle of the mighty Beas!

(Pratima Srivastava)

My trip to Corbett National Park

A trip to Corbett National Park last weekend gave me an opportunity to unwind in nature’s lap, far away from the maddening city life and a perfect getaway for a person like me, for whom nature is the best and the ultimate teacher. It has the knack of teaching the most complicated of things in the most subtlest of ways, leaving an imprint that stays long, sometimes for a lifetime. The journey from Chandigarh to Ramnagar, though a bit long and tedious, via Dehradun and Haridwar, was spread over 2 days and was quite enjoyable as I thrive to prefect the art of enjoying the journey instead of focussing only on the destination. The Nahan-Paonta Sahib route continues to charm me, even after my umpteen number of visits on the same, as it always throws up a new corner of the forest with a flowering tree, at its brilliant best, or a view rendered anew by the cloud and foliage combination of multiple hues, diverse species, zonation and the difference created by the sun facing and the sheltered slopes of the hillside.

Haridwar’s  religious importance not withstanding, there is something in the city which touches every  soul, how the ice cold waters of the mighty Ganga flowing at tremendous speed retain the chillness even after its long journey from the distant Gangotri glacier amazes me no end and all my knowledge of science fails me surprisingly, but I don’t mind at all, for some things need to be mystical in order to retain their charm! The mellifluous sound of the evening arti at the Har ki Paidi, didn’t allow me to remain inside my room in the rest house and I felt drawn by an invisible force and before I could realise, I stood on the ghat, watching the reflections of the uncountable arti lamps shimmer in the holy river in the fast current, coupled with the myriad leaf boats full of vibrant marigolds and the perfumed roses, and  diyas, floating on the waves, carrying the wishes of the pilgrims to their desired deities. A majestic break preceding the journey ahead.

The next day, the 200 odd km road journey to Ramnagar, though was not as beautiful in terms of the route, with the highway passing through the small towns  and villages  big and small, but  was interesting no doubt as my fellow road users ensured that there was not a moment of dullness in the travel. Sometimes a bus honking behind continuosly forcing the tyres of my vehicle, to glide to the katcha pavement for obvious safety, sometimes a motorbike rider deciding to become our unwanted escort zooming straight out of the side road to inches ahead of the bonnet, at times a bicyclewala, indulging in a tyre salsa tantalisingly close to the wheels, not to speak of the innumerable privately constructed invisible speed-breakers jolting the occupants of the rear seat from their blissful slumbers! The landscape too varied with patches of barren lands interspersed with those full of sugarcane culms swaying in the searing heat, with fields being readied for the paddy transplantation, monsoon willing; vast expanses of yellow blossom of the ladyfinger and the cucurbits.....and the occasional stretches laden with the undefinable smell emanating from a not too distant sugar mill led us to Ramnagar.

Our first stop, the Ramnagar office of the Corbett Tiger Reserve, was filled with curious tourists, rushing from window to window, collecting their passes and permits to enable them to enter the Core zone of the reserve, the Mecca of nature lovers...Dhikala! An olive green open gypsy became our companion, vowing to be with us for the next 3 days in our adventure in the wild, with the harried driver sounding the first alarm, we were soon to get in the home of the animal kingdom, and the privileged right of way was entirely theirs, and everyone had to behave accordingly, to rule out any chance of offending them or inviting their ire. The 20 km drive or the ride to the Dhangari gate in the afternoon sun, with the sun God in a totally unrelenting mood had us busy in discovering innovative methods of protecting our heads and bodies, with only the trees providing a few welcome seconds of respite intermittently.

 Once inside the gate, the magic of Corbett took over; the dense canopy of the trees ensured that the ensuing two hour journey was pleasant....the herds of cheetals hiding behind the bushes, the beautiful sambars looking rather perplexed at the sight of aliens staring at them from close quarters, the monkeys jumping from one branch to the next, and the occasional barking deer scampering into the bushes. The winding road, the uneven terrain and the quietness associated with the afternoon forest, kept us totally engaged and we reached the Dhikala tourist complex, to be greeted by a stunning yellow amaltash (Cassia fistula) in full bloom near the entry gate! Surprisingly the 250 odd km journey had not tired anyone and the evening safari had all excited and eager passengers ready before time, armed with caps, the cameras, the water bottles and the binoculars; the kids ready for their first real lessons in the wild. And what a safari it turned out to be, just at a stones throw from the complex, an elephant herd crossed our track, and it was quite a task suppressing the children’s  superexcited states to levels of hushed whispers! The safari continued well into the twilight with sightings of many more elephant groups, feathered beauties in abundant shapes, sizes and colours, spotted deer and barking deer groups in a state of perpetual preparedness for escape. The journey back to the complex showed the the brilliant colours of  the pristine forest at dusk with the fading light giving each corner a totally different hue. As the night fell and darkness engulfed the area, the silence of the woods manifested magnificently leaving those having the  intent lending their ears to the singing cicadas and other creatures. The view of the river bank at night from the window of my room,too was spectacular with the white sand shimmering in the soft moonlight and the sweet sound of silence pervading the hot and sultry night.

Early morning and evening safaris the next day too were equally rewarding; sightings of the deer groups with their fawns, the barking deer alerting its friends with continuous animated and impatient calls, the eager wait at strategic points to catch a glimpse of the king of Corbett, the beautiful birds giving constant company all along particularly the emerald doves and the paradise fly catchers justifying the park’s billing as the bird watcher’s paradise!! The blue waters of the park’s lifeline, the Ramganga, too presented a few unforgettable moments of absolute delight, as they let us enjoy the sights of animals quenching their thirsts,  in a state of alertness, fearing an ambush by their predator any minute.

As all good things come to an end, so our trip too had to, but the thrill, the absolute joy and the moments of super-excitement it provided have been deeply etched in our memories. The journey back to Ramnagar too was filled with many sightings but the one image which stands apart is the sight of the lone tusker standing on the banks of the river playfully frollicking  in its crystal clear water, sometimes drinking sometimes splashing it all around !

Diversity on the roads - buses

A fairly long road journey undertaken a few days back in the searing heat was driving me mad, so, I decided to cheat the neuromotor service  to that part of the brain which deals with the heat perception by concentrating on my fellow road users and the vehicles, mainly the buses. First come the outright khataras....those with broken windows, delicately and innovatively plastered shattered glasses, anatomy revealing seats, leaking roofs and with tangled and mangled exterior speaking volumes of the ill treatment meted out to them by the owners , next come those which are on the brink of attaining khatarahood....with doors and windows dangling dangerously on the passersby and the travellers, the seats though externally intact, internally down to the last suspension of spring and jute, and also the exterior architecture generated by a few pukish passengers, just beneath the windows telling tales of the low levels of hygiene consciousness of the driver and cleaners...next in line are the deluxe ones with polished and chic exteriors but the curtains hanging from the windows proclaim loudly that a visit to the laundry is long overdue, the reclining seats become totally obstinate and non-obedient when it comes to obeying the command of the tired traveller hurriedly trying to catch a few winks....the AC coaches come next having the services offered displayed in bold, the cold water, the individual lights, the music, but to partake the luxury even of cold water from the water cooler perched precariously atop the wooden stool in front involves a walk down the aisle which would put many in the catwalk world to shame!. and the AC obeys only the telepathic commands sent secretly only by the driver keeping in view his mileage and the ever galloping cost of petrol........then come the swanky new breed of the Mercedes benz buses zipping past you, without even a traveller peeping through the window...wonder if the comfortable interior and the lullabys rock everyone to sleep immediately after boarding it, …the snobbish driver threatens to take off every now and then and keeps on the road only because the conductor is around, and if there is a split second delay in giving it the privileged right of way, the stare of the drivers itself can make a few kills....if the big wheels are generous  enough to let the lesser mortals alive...

Summer : My Impressions

With the summer slowly heading towards its peak, and our artificial luxury sources sometimes taking a rest in the form of breakdowns, the only solace I seek is a refreshing walk outside where I get to gaze at some of natures unique and ethereal creations....as I step out, I am greeted by the enflaming crimson gulmohar, which seems to have gone mad,  the greater the heat, the more the bloom , it seems to say, pushing the green foliage down to minimal and only on the fringes; the stunning yellow cassia with its eye-catching pendulous spikes, without even a  tinge of green,.... can a soul passby it  without experiencing a few moments of absolute bliss....the jacaranda too with its purple cringed flowers though not so, bold and beautiful, meets my eye, just enough to, leave an impression .....that will not be as easy to brush away. A few yards ahead, the mango and the litchi trees laden with fruits still to ripen, attract a motley crowd of street urchins and the privileged, competing with each other, in collecting the maximum number, using , sticks and stones, with the more daring ones  risking a hurried climb onto the trunk too. The lonely jamun, full of sweet scented lemon yellow blossom stands in the company of the straggling mulberry, which is now totally bereft of the juicy fruits borne on the branches nearer to the ground, and which were within reach of one and all, is now catering only to the appetite of its feathered friends, resting and roosting on its upper branches..Further ahead, inside the park, kids and adults of all ages vie for the verdant spaces,....a few younger ones staring and blinking from their cosy little moving abodes , the prams...the slightly older ones smile from ear to ear as they slide down those colourful installations in the centre...the giggle of the kindergarten ones too echoes around spreading joy and laughter on an otherwise  warm and sultry evening...and imbibing the good cheer and the spirit, are the old and not so old walking, jogging and strolling at their own paces, looking to carry the positive vibes home..helping them get over their problems big and small...