Aroop and KD
In answer to some of your questions let me go back to some history. In my childhood days, Ganga flowed past the well known ghats of Kanpur called Sarsiyya Ghat, Parmat Ghats, Bhairon Ghat (cremations took place here), and Massacre Ghat towards Bithoor.
I did not know about Mouni Ghat, as Azadnagar, did not exist then. It was much later - I was in High school then when residential plots were being allotted to the applicants by the Corporation and my father, Haresh Babu, Moni Sengupta Babu and some more friends of my father bought plots of land, dreaming of a retired life on the bank of Ganga, enjoying the fresh air in close proximity of each other.
We lived in Mac Robert Ganj. As a child I would trail behind my Thakuma on religious occasions such as Makar Sankranti, or Solar eclipse, when people would go for a dip in the river. Parmat Ghats were near to our house. Ganga flowed in all its majesty - broad, deep and calm. Sometimes during the rainy season I heard discussions about the rising water level, about how ‘just a few steps remained to be submerged’ and about the impending floods. It thrilled me, thought the elders would be worried. But the water never rose to that extent.
It was the industries of Kanpur that caused damage to the river. The Elgin mills, Victoria mills, Cooper Allen, the tanneries and others were situated on the banks of Ganga and they released their industrial wastes into the river. Sewage was also poured into the river I think. Ganga slowly started drifting towards Unnao. A thin stream remained in Bhairon Ghat, probably with much diligent efforts. Mouni Ghat was an extension of that stream.
In 1972 we shifted to our house which had just been completed. We were all very happy to be living on the banks of Ganga, even though it was a poor shadow of its former self. I remember in those early days, once my mother had a wild idea of taking a dip in the water. But we did not want her to do so. The river had only a mud bank, no concrete steps. We feared that the earth would cave in to the river and none of us knew swimming. But my mother was adamant like a child. At the end the ordeal was completed - we had to bind one end of her sari to her waist and we held on tightly to the other end!
We did not have any house warming ceremony, as my father did not believe in rituals. The house came up with his hard earned money and many sleepless nights, when he typed business letters on his Remington rand when the whole house slept…My marriage was the first auspicious occasion that took place within one month of us settling in the new house.
I confess, I have seen very little of India. Because there was only one destination when children had their school vacations – Azadnagar. Summer vacations, winter vacations and some times Puja holidays too were spent at Dadur bari and as KD says morning and evening rounds with Dadu were part of the daily routine but by that time even that thin stream had disappeared.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
A Holiday to Remember - IV
A debate
Before R agreed to my proposal we had a small debate. Her point was that - as per our family holiday plan we were going to Haridwar with Budi, then why sacrifice staying at Dehradoon for a day and why not visit Kempty falls too? But within my heart, I was not prepared to bypass Ganga without a darshan in anticipation of a future plan. It could be childhood memories, when I had gone to the Parmat ghat with didima once and quite a few times with thakuma, who was a regular early morning bather. I had taken dip standing on the broad stairs along with hundreds of bathers. I don’t know when Ganga had disappeared from Kanpur and had drifted towards Unnao.
I remember, after my marriage when I had returned to my father’s house for the first time, and I had taken my new husband to the Parmat Ghat to have a glimpse of the Ganga. What a disappointment it was, my heart bled with anguish, when my hopes had come crashing…there was no trace of Ganga anymore. The temples, where we would enter after bathing to get a teeka from the priest, wore a deserted look. The bed of Ganga was lying bare, only with yellow sand. I stood there with a vacant look.
It fascinates me when I find Ganga having great likeness, with three stages of human life. Childhood stage - when it descends from the mountain, flowing over the gradients, sprinting, rippling, bubbling with energy, running swiftly, just like the truant child who either runs or falls but seldom walks, then the Middle course when it flows over the planes of Uttar Pradesh serenely, majestically, acquiring the personality of a settled middle age. And the Last Stage - when numb with carrying heavy loads of sand and mud, it becomes sluggish, breaking into hundreds of channels, before entering into the sea, creating the biggest bay of the world - our Bay of Bengal. Don’t we too become sluggish when we almost reach our house after a long walk? Feet not too steady - falling this way and that way - body swaying left and right. Well! I imagine so, you may not.
I knew if I argued with R on the strength of my secret desire, my argument will not stand, so I said – “let’s go Haridwar to make a survey of the hotels, where we could stay with Budi, as we both were quite sure that no posh hotel would accept Budi as guest.”
R saw some logic in my point and sat down to do what she does best, calling hotels, with the help of her guide book She was impressed with one hotel Siddharth, because the person on line spoke in smart English, which is some kind of a certificate in our country of things above the average. A double room booked, she informed that we were reaching Haridwar next day around 1 P.M.
Chottomama
One more job remained to be done - to inform chottomama.. A man of few words, he had left Kanpur for his medical studies in Calcutta when I was just a kid and from there to England. He had returned after many years armed with double F.R.C.S. and rich experience of working in British hospitals…A pucca sahib by temperament, I felt uneasy in his presence, though my chemistry with mamima was excellent. If I had my way I would have liked to give her a big surprise by knocking at her door unannounced.
Chottomama picked up the phone - "arre Umu!!"
Ashbi.. chole aae.. besh moja hobe..
I was relieved but R was not. They were complete strangers to her. She kept asking me questions about them to prepare herself mentally for the meeting.
Next morning we checked out of the Hotel Deep early. Porters were waiting outside to pick up luggage from the outgoing tourists. We hired a porter and came to ‘Clarks’ for an English breakfast of fried eggs, cheese sandwiches and tea. It took us about an hour. I could see our porter waiting outside fixing his gaze on us, shifting his legs from time to time, and surprise! He never grumbled about waiting for so long. His name was Jublee. We came to the taxi stand. Rates were fixed so there was no question of haggling. We hired a taxi upto Dehradoon only and planned to cover the distance from Dehradoon to Haridwar by bus. R wanted to give some extra money to Jublee but after depositing our luggage he had vanished like voo doo. We kept looking for him from the running taxi but he was untraceable. After coming down some distance our driver said he had put his mobile on charge and forgotten to collect that. We could see he was little worried.
“Would it be lost?” I asked.
No chance of losing he said and kept om driving. But I was thinking how can a person engaged in a business manage without his mobile, moreover, how will he focus on driving, his mind straying elsewhere?
Turn back
Why
For your mobile
I could see a big smile on his face and he happily turned the taxi to recover his cell phone. That was the beginning of a very pleasant relationship between us. He was a good driver and a good guide too. He pointed at a beautiful palatial building on the top of a hill. It was ‘komal palace’ belonging to the ex King of Nepal, King Gyanendra. And some anecdotes… once he was taking a newly married couple to Dehradoon, who had to catch a flight. In the midway he came upon a roadblock. Huge boulders had slid down the hills, obstructing traffic movement. His passengers became nervous for they were sure to miss the flight. But he did not give up, ran to the nearby village, arranged hammers, pickaxes and everybody got down to work .The road was cleared and his passengers reached the air port on time to catch their flight.. He made our journey really enjoyable by his easy and relaxed driving. What a contrast it was from our previous experience two days ago. He insisted on driving us down to Haridwar. So we abandoned our plan of traveling by bus. And reached safely.
Before R agreed to my proposal we had a small debate. Her point was that - as per our family holiday plan we were going to Haridwar with Budi, then why sacrifice staying at Dehradoon for a day and why not visit Kempty falls too? But within my heart, I was not prepared to bypass Ganga without a darshan in anticipation of a future plan. It could be childhood memories, when I had gone to the Parmat ghat with didima once and quite a few times with thakuma, who was a regular early morning bather. I had taken dip standing on the broad stairs along with hundreds of bathers. I don’t know when Ganga had disappeared from Kanpur and had drifted towards Unnao.
I remember, after my marriage when I had returned to my father’s house for the first time, and I had taken my new husband to the Parmat Ghat to have a glimpse of the Ganga. What a disappointment it was, my heart bled with anguish, when my hopes had come crashing…there was no trace of Ganga anymore. The temples, where we would enter after bathing to get a teeka from the priest, wore a deserted look. The bed of Ganga was lying bare, only with yellow sand. I stood there with a vacant look.
It fascinates me when I find Ganga having great likeness, with three stages of human life. Childhood stage - when it descends from the mountain, flowing over the gradients, sprinting, rippling, bubbling with energy, running swiftly, just like the truant child who either runs or falls but seldom walks, then the Middle course when it flows over the planes of Uttar Pradesh serenely, majestically, acquiring the personality of a settled middle age. And the Last Stage - when numb with carrying heavy loads of sand and mud, it becomes sluggish, breaking into hundreds of channels, before entering into the sea, creating the biggest bay of the world - our Bay of Bengal. Don’t we too become sluggish when we almost reach our house after a long walk? Feet not too steady - falling this way and that way - body swaying left and right. Well! I imagine so, you may not.
I knew if I argued with R on the strength of my secret desire, my argument will not stand, so I said – “let’s go Haridwar to make a survey of the hotels, where we could stay with Budi, as we both were quite sure that no posh hotel would accept Budi as guest.”
R saw some logic in my point and sat down to do what she does best, calling hotels, with the help of her guide book She was impressed with one hotel Siddharth, because the person on line spoke in smart English, which is some kind of a certificate in our country of things above the average. A double room booked, she informed that we were reaching Haridwar next day around 1 P.M.
Chottomama
One more job remained to be done - to inform chottomama.. A man of few words, he had left Kanpur for his medical studies in Calcutta when I was just a kid and from there to England. He had returned after many years armed with double F.R.C.S. and rich experience of working in British hospitals…A pucca sahib by temperament, I felt uneasy in his presence, though my chemistry with mamima was excellent. If I had my way I would have liked to give her a big surprise by knocking at her door unannounced.
Chottomama picked up the phone - "arre Umu!!"
Ashbi.. chole aae.. besh moja hobe..
I was relieved but R was not. They were complete strangers to her. She kept asking me questions about them to prepare herself mentally for the meeting.
Next morning we checked out of the Hotel Deep early. Porters were waiting outside to pick up luggage from the outgoing tourists. We hired a porter and came to ‘Clarks’ for an English breakfast of fried eggs, cheese sandwiches and tea. It took us about an hour. I could see our porter waiting outside fixing his gaze on us, shifting his legs from time to time, and surprise! He never grumbled about waiting for so long. His name was Jublee. We came to the taxi stand. Rates were fixed so there was no question of haggling. We hired a taxi upto Dehradoon only and planned to cover the distance from Dehradoon to Haridwar by bus. R wanted to give some extra money to Jublee but after depositing our luggage he had vanished like voo doo. We kept looking for him from the running taxi but he was untraceable. After coming down some distance our driver said he had put his mobile on charge and forgotten to collect that. We could see he was little worried.
“Would it be lost?” I asked.
No chance of losing he said and kept om driving. But I was thinking how can a person engaged in a business manage without his mobile, moreover, how will he focus on driving, his mind straying elsewhere?
Turn back
Why
For your mobile
I could see a big smile on his face and he happily turned the taxi to recover his cell phone. That was the beginning of a very pleasant relationship between us. He was a good driver and a good guide too. He pointed at a beautiful palatial building on the top of a hill. It was ‘komal palace’ belonging to the ex King of Nepal, King Gyanendra. And some anecdotes… once he was taking a newly married couple to Dehradoon, who had to catch a flight. In the midway he came upon a roadblock. Huge boulders had slid down the hills, obstructing traffic movement. His passengers became nervous for they were sure to miss the flight. But he did not give up, ran to the nearby village, arranged hammers, pickaxes and everybody got down to work .The road was cleared and his passengers reached the air port on time to catch their flight.. He made our journey really enjoyable by his easy and relaxed driving. What a contrast it was from our previous experience two days ago. He insisted on driving us down to Haridwar. So we abandoned our plan of traveling by bus. And reached safely.
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