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.

A holiday to remember - II

We reached Dehradoon at 1.30 p.m. Our original plan was to spend that day at Dehra sight seeing but then suddenly we changed our plan and decided to head for Mussoorie insted. In any case we were coming back to catch the train for our return journey, so sight seeing could wait for the time being.

A taxi was hired for the 34 k.m uphill climb, which takes about one hour. After a few kms drive, Doon valley was left behind. We could feel the sudden drop in temperature and see the changing scenery. The Sal forests were left behind with Oak, Deodar and Pine forests taking their place. After about half way up the hills the gradient was becoming steeper and steeper. Buses, lorries, taxis and private cars coming down from the opposite direction were whizzing past. The roads were narrow with hair pin bends and deep gorges on one side. Through out the journey we just could not relax for a moment and remained on our guard sitting up, holding our breath. It was no use telling the driver to drive slowly or cautiously. It was their daily routine. They even play pranks with a known person by coming on his track and then skillfully maneuvering the taxi out. I had a feeling that they enjoy taking risk with lives of the passengers at their mercy. At last the ordeal was over. We reached Mussoorie safely.

Hotel Deep where R had booked a double room for us was situated on a hillock. The interior had many levels and the steep climb to go to the upper floor dampened our spirit. The receptionist came with us to show us our room. It was situated at the end of a narrow corridor. Contrary to what R had been promised on phone, there was no front balcony. It was a foggy day; nothing was visible beyond a few meters distance. R, as I know her, is not the person to make compromises with something substandard. The receptionist was trying to impress upon us that this room would give us a view of the abodes of the celebrities such as Ruskin Bond, Tom Alter, Victor Banerjee, but we were not impressed. We had come to enjoy the beauty of the ‘queen of the hills’ and not concrete houses. The room even lacked in freshness. Grudgingly we settled down and ordered tea. R had now made up her mind. After tea she told me to lock the door and went out to look for a better place. I decided to have a nap. I was woken up from sleep by R calling me from outside. She was back with some refreshments, which we ate for dinner, and news about a better place, where we would be shifting the next day.

It was raining heavily - we could see flashes of lightening. In the night we heard some eerie noises from the other side of the wooden wall, which made us sit up on the bed. We got up early in the morning. I told R about my worries, had we come at the wrong time? Had monsoons already set in here? If so, there could be chances of land slides - we may be trapped. We decided to gather information about the rainy weather. If it persisted, there was no chance of an outing and no view of the majestic mountains. R ordered tea on the intercom. And the bill too.

After a short while, the son of the owner of the hotel, who had answered R’s enquiries from Delhi came to our room, asking why we were leaving so soon. When R explained the reason, he apologized saying that he had been absent and would immediately change the room. But we had made up our mind. After packing up our bags, we locked the room. We had enough time, so we started looking around a bit. Rain had stopped and a bright sun came up from behind the mountains, with a blue sky revealing the majestic mountains. And lush green forests covering the slopes. It was breathtaking, As we were enjoying scenery, the old man (proprietor of the hotel. He had heard that we were leaving) came up to us and started a conversation. He offered us tea. Knowing that we were not happy with our room, he said a deluxe room was becoming vacant after 11 a.m. and we could have it at a slightly higher price. So we agreed to stay on for one more day. Room problem solved, we deposited our bags at the counter and went out to do a survey of the mall.

It was again a steep climb. I was panting for breath, while R kept on singing in my ears - “good for health, you are loosing kilos.” Smell of doshas and fried eggs was wafting in from the roadside eateries. Local small boys and girls were roasting bhuttas on charcoal fire. R bought two roasted bhuttas, which seemed the best treat in the chilly weather. Shops were opening gradually. We wanted to buy a souvenir of local made but were disappointed to know that everything is imported from outside . Mussoorie has no industry but though there are renowned schools started by the British. The hotels thrive on the earnings that they make during the tourist season. The local sherpas work as porters during the tourist season and in the construction sites during the off-season. There was a Tibetan market, where Tibetan women had their stalls selling teeshirts, skirts etc. We did some shopping there and that was all. We had skipped breakfast so we started looking for a good restaurant. Soon a board caught our sight, which said that authentic Tibetan and Chinese food was cooked there. We decided to have a Tibetan meal starting with the soup, it was hot and appetizing. The main course was also tasty. The hospitality was very good

As we came out of the restaurant, the scene had totally changed. The Mall was buzzing with people, small small stalls had sprouted on both sides of the narrow road, a band was playing .We heard that preparations were going on for celebration of some festival. Mussoorie is famous for its confectionaries and the bakeries were attracting the crowd with their mouth watering cakes, pastries, pies… We bought something for our evening tea. Back to the hotel, we were shown our new room. A beautiful one. One side had wall to wall transparent glass panel - giving an open view of the Queen… It was breathtaking! R told me to shut the door and not open to any one until she came back, and she hurried out. I decided to take a hot shower.

To be continued…