A matter of minutes

We were driving down the highway. The road ahead curved pleasantly and it was still a few kilometers from the more traffic infested bits. A pale city, melting behind the grey air reflected upon the remaining waters of the Yamuna. Pylons on the horizon held onto each other with their long stringy hands. I was reminded of this but there was no time. The phone rang at the very moment to update us that our train tickets were not yet confirmed. All through Saturday, I had sulked at the prospect of missing the French Open finals and a possible u-turn was exciting.

A religious pilgrimage holds little interest for me. A good game of tennis can be a better celebration of life. I advocate religious freedom, but I understand it isn't for the doubtful fanatics who make up large numbers in this part of the world. This small trip however, would be my first visit to the Himalayas this year. It would be an opportunity for a small trek too. Besides, unpleasant experience is challenging, educational and just a little bit underrated. The silver lining was fairly thick and I was persuaded. Of course, a bit of light-hearted humour at the blatant fallacies of religion never hurt anyone. Adding humour to observation is an excellent shield against those seeking to indoctrinate, and I was armed.

After getting our tickets confirmed, a comfortable night followed before we reached Jammu. A car took us up the slopes and were in Katra. Katra is a small town, marked by narrow lanes, religious insignia and cheap hotels to support pilgrims. Most Indian towns located near famous temples are dirty and unpleasant. Katra was no exception. At breakfast, given a large group with ages ranging from 2 to 62 years, there were conflicting interests. The little one needed pizza and wouldn't settle for anything less, a few didn't anticipate the importance of a good meal before the stressful day under a harsh sun, while others ordered more food than they could have. Our first blow was when the bookings for the helicopter couldn't be confirmed. This was the central piece of our plan to return by evening and at that point, not even the regulars anticipated the repercussions. Instead, mules got the vote and we found ourselves in their midst. The owners were men in red shirts and turbans, with closely cropped beards. There were only a few inches for people to stand and every few seconds a mule would brush us by, giving us a bit of a dusting with their tails, nuzzling us with their dripping noses, or a rider's knees giving us a little tap. After much bargaining, we found ourselves on top of one each. Amid faeces whipped up into the air by broom-wielding ladies in blue, the occasional hermaphrodite feeling up my thighs, smells of deep fried food, religious chanting and a sun raging already, we galloped through. Well, it wasn't quite the gallop I had imagined and had I known how fast these animals would be, I would have voted to walk. I can't say that the faces climbing down were particularly happy ones, but perhaps that isn't what one comes here to seek. We planned to stop at a point where electric cars would take half an hour to cover the remaining half of the distance. We missed them by a few minutes.

I realized, no one intended on returning until they had visited the shrine. S, her cousin A and I had return tickets for a train earlier in the evening than the rest. Ironically, we were the only three who had office the next day! While the others continued to rue having missed the electric car and tried searching for mules again, I was able to convince a few to set off on foot. With the midday sun beating upon our heads., we walked steadily till we reached our destination before the rest to find a larger crowd than we had expected. Amid loud chanting, bare-feet on hot floors, dark lockers and mud, we were able to make our way to the long line and come out safely at the other end of it. This wasn't what the Himalayas can be. It was loud, governed more by man's rules than nature's. It had little semblance of the silence and the opportunity to connect with nature, I associate with the Himalayas.

Being the only one to choose the wrong shoes, it was unpleasant for S. So we were back on the mules for our climb down. And it became even more dicey than downhill climbs are. My mule had a mind of its own and continued straying towards the edges. With a bit of a shake, it could push me off the cliff. It's owner tried communicating using odd noises, trotting sounds, a few tugs and pulls, sometimes even using the tail as a rudder and worse, with a bit of a beating from a bamboo stick! After a while we had to get off. We couldn't have survived the whole journey, especially since it began to drizzle and mules slip until the rains are heavy. So we walked more than half of it. Through a staircase cutting across the hillside, through markets, through rain and a ground made slick by it. S had a bad knee from riding. Each time we thought we had reached, there were more steps to follow. I raced ahead a bit, hoping to catch a taxi early. Not that it helped a lot, but when we found one we had little hope of making it back to the station on time. We left it to the others returning later to pick our bags from the hotel. Our driver was an excellent one. He understood our urgency and drove like a maniac. It was dangerous but we were hopeful. We were making good time and would have reached 20 minutes before the train had there not been a traffic jam. It was stormy, leaves and dust swirled in the air and a strange twilight lit the foothills orange under a dying blue sky. As we broke a few more rules to step ahead of the line of stagnant cars, I couldn't understand if it was the languorous elephant, or those few trucks halted in the middle of the road for repairs, or a small accident which was responsible for it. We reached 9 minutes after the train's scheduled departure and missed the train by 5 minutes. Under the circumstances, I don't think we would have found another driver to make the time this Sikh did. So, despite it, I paid him almost twice what we had agreed upon. I find it very important to reward qualities I appreciate - in this case earnestness, kindness, honesty (he was the only one to charge the right amount) and consideration - because we see so much of it dying around us.

For the three of us, it was the first time we had missed a train. People at the "Enquiry" box found it normal not to help, the "may I help you" office was empty, so was the station master's. The platforms, as most platforms in India are, were lined with people sleeping on bedsheets and newspapers. Our phones were not operational since none of the major carriers have signals in Jammu. The ones that do, were used extensively during the day and were discharged. The phone booth, the only one in the station, was closed. The next train, the remaining part of our group was supposed to board, was due in an hour and we knew there was no way they would make it. The TTE (Train Ticket Examiner) of this train refusing to let us in, and we were stranded. We couldn't call anyone and had little idea what to do. We borrowed a phone from a passenger on the platform to receive calls but he too refused to help after a few minutes since he was being charged for "roaming" ! For a start we decided to cancel our ticket and that too wasn't without hiccups. After the delay at "Counter #15" we managed to get a signed and stamped paper, but the old guy at "Counter #11" refused to pay up until he was publicly shouted upon! We were told a particular train going to Allahabad was running late and would stop at Delhi on the way. We decided to get "general" tickets and after boarding, pay our way to some seats. The general section is one of the rowdiest and dirtiest places one can imagine. There are too many people and too few seats. On night trains, given the circumstances, this is no place for etiquette and politeness. It would have been a particularly difficult experience for the ladies and I was not in favour of choosing this option. So I went out to check for the night buses. Not only had the last one already left a few minutes ago, the bus-stop was another longish ride on the auto-rickshaw away. At that point, I was leaning more towards getting a room for the night, catch some rest and board the next train to Delhi which was scheduled for 9 in the morning. The ladies however were more keen on being on the move. In the end, this turned out to be a good choice.

contd...