It was in 1983 spring time that we found ourselves in Jammu Railway station; well found ourselves is a gross understatement since we had been dreaming about our few days of ‘study tour’ in the tourist heaven of India – the state that Nehru called ‘Paradise on Earth’. Well, we did not have to justify to the college officials how the tour to Jammu and Srinagar fits into the study tour for a bunch of Electrical Engineers. If we had to, we would have to struggle to unearth the hydro electric power stations and other Engineering interests of this hill station state, that too in the pre-internet era. Luckily, a tour to the ‘Paradise’ was a given, a segment undertaken by final year students every year and something looked forward to, every year by the ‘All India Tour’ participants.
Our train from Ambala reached Jammu at about 10 am in the morning. Tour committee had arranged the state bus that would carry us from Jammu to Srinagar by the end of the day. Our dream was about to come true – staying in a hotel overlooking Lake Dal, experiencing the heavenly weather and charm of the biting chill of air, a novelty for us Keralites. Images of rosy cheeked Kashmiri girls carrying Golden Delicious apples in the bamboo baskets on their back and promenading through the orchards fluttered through our mind. We are going to be in paradise for the next 4 days!
The colorful bus with garlanded pictures of Hindu deities pulled out of the bus station before lunch. In addition to fifty three of us, there were a handful of local travelers who looked at us with curiosity in the beginning and with annoyance later. The canvas window covers were dancing to the tune of bus movements, but we did not mind the chill at all. We were trying to inhale as much of Kashmir air as possible.
Once we left Jammu town and neighboring valleys, the scenery changed from mundane to breathtaking. Road got narrower and curvier. Tall coniferous trees lined up on one side of the road. The precipices on the other side got deeper and scarier. Our bus driver was showing off his skills of navigating the curves. He kept talking loudly to a passenger on the front seat in some unknown dialect, over the radio music.
It started to rain in the afternoon. It was just a drizzle in the beginning; we all enjoyed the smell of earth getting wet and softened by the rain water. The driver was now talking even louder for the entire bus to hear about how difficult it was to drive on these roads during rain and the trouble caused by incessant rainfall in the last season. He was not able to drive for four weeks in a stretch since the roads were closed. Rain was getting thicker and the day darker as we crossed the Doru-Shahabad area.
We were going much slower now because of traffic on the road and non stop rain. We could see the trucks and other tourist buses inching up on the serpentine road ahead of us towards the hills. “We will be late to arrive at Srinagar,” people muttered. Many had already choked down plans for how to spend the first evening/night in Srinagar. The plans would have to be put on hold. “These things happen during tours; didn’t we have a smooth ride until now?”, I tried to reassure the friends near me.
As a tour committee member, this (reassurance) was part of my responsibility. As we reached ‘Anantnag’, the traffic slowed down even further. Our driver was trying to tune his radio to a news channel. Through the static of the news station, he was able to figure out that up north, the rain was even heavier. “All stations talking about the torrential downpour in Tral area”, he announced. “We will have to ride our luck to get in there in decent time”. He then switched to the music station that constantly played the songs from ‘Nikah”.
“Dil ke armaan aansuon mein beh gaye…” These ghazals had followed us from Delhi, Chandigarh and now to Kashmir also. Now, it was the backdrop of a melancholy mood in the bus.
As we drove (rather crawled) for another half hour, the vehicles came to a complete stop. We could see jeeps and trucks in a single file up the road, all stopped. People started getting down in the rain and enquired. The helper from our bus ran to the front, covering his head with a large plastic bag to lessen the power of the rain and joined a gathering of his fraternity from other buses. He came back and announced the news in a grim tone. “There has been a landslide near Tral. The road to Srinagar is now closed. This is not going to be open before tomorrow morning”.
Fifty three hearts sank together in the bus. Here we were so close to our dream town, yet we would have to wait for at least one more day. Worse, we would have to spend tonight in the bus on the road in the middle of nowhere. Slowly the reality started to sink in. The road looked deserted and we did not find shops or inns anywhere in the last one hour of our climb. Most of the snacks we had brought from Jammu had been consumed. Our fate today was to remain hungry, wet and cold on Highway 1 that night, a far cry from the Dal Lake retreat we were all expecting.
Well, the tour committee and a few others sprang into action. We had a quick tete-a-tete with the driver who seemed to know the area quite well. Using broken Hindi and sign language, we conveyed our predicament to him. Looked like, he understood. He thought for a while and said, “There is a small wayside inn just a block away from this place. If you are lucky, you could find a room there”.
A room? There were fifty three of us, almost half of them were girls. What could we do with one room?
Anyway, we wanted to try. One room would be better than all of us sleeping in the bus. At least the girls could sleep out there. By this time, the rain had slowed down. We could at least walk outside although it was getting dark. A few of us followed the driver who took us to the inn.
The inn was meant for scientists and college students who would come down for scientific expeditions in the Kashmir valley. The inn had two big rooms, more of a hall than a typical hotel room. There were also an unused kitchen and a work area if people would want to use the space for sleeping. The rooms were available that night!
Suddenly, we were all in a buoyant mood. We could make the best of this bad situation. We could somehow pack all of us in this available space. Girls could take one room and boys the other. It would be a perfect cozy night. What a chance to bond together right before the Srinagar vacation! Somebody was feeling sorry that they did not stock up the booze from Jammu. I heard another committee member trying to ask the driver about local bootleg joints. Not sure he understood.
The innkeepers provided us with thick comforters and blankets. There was enough room for all of us. We occupied every nook and corner available there. The more we packed in, the warmer we felt.
The kitchen was closed down. Some of us went out to explore eating places. At this time of the day, on a rainy night, nothing remained open. We finally found a shop attached to a home that kept some snacks in a glass chest. The entrepreneurial owner of the shop was roasting dhal (pattani) to cater to the stranded passengers. He was making a killing. We were only happy to buy these pattani packets from him as soon as he could roast and pack them. Mixed with cut onion, chilly and spices, this treat was God sent manna for all of us. We brought back a few for the rest of the group.
I thought most would be under the warm blankets by this time; many were tired after the 6 hours of bus ride and the trek up to the inn with the luggage. But most friends were still outside trying to light up a camp fire using damp firewood. Everyone was lapping up the unexpected warmth of friendship that came through in the adversity.
The girl whom I had taken a liking to, whose heart beat in resonance with mine, was in the room when I got in, trying to warm her hands by waving over the heater grill. She was wearing a yellow sari and a thick brown sweater. The weariness of the day was evident on her face, but her face lit up seeing me, or was it the reflection of the impromptu lamp that was lit in the corner? Her face was bit roughed up, clearly with no make-up, a few strands of hair carelessly hugging her forehead and temples; but the tiring casual look only made her more attractive.
“Did you have anything to eat”, I asked.
“No, but I am waiting for the lamb sheesh kabab that the tour committee ordered for me”, she said derisively hinting at the inability of the tour committee in anticipating and planning for the emergency situations during the tour. I just winced, but tried to recover by muttering, “well no sheesh kabab, but I have the tastiest pattani you have ever had in your life”. I scooped some of the dhals into her hand. A satisfying smile crossed her face as she started munching them. The misfortunes of the day have softened the hearts of everyone. We were no exceptions. I felt like clearing off the wayward banks from the side of her face to make it lovelier, but we saw her friends crossing into the room at that time.
Bus driver’s radio was still humming.. heard Salma Agha’s sultry voice again…
Dil Ki Yeh
Aarzoo Thi Koi Dilruba Mile
Lo Ban Gaya Naseeb Ke Tum Humse Aa Mile
The Kashmir cloud blanket and Salma’s romantic melody; what a setting!
I thanked Almighty for this ‘act of nature’. We all did. The next day was a different day for us. We found each other closer than ever before. The cold night at the wayside inn was not on the tour itinerary, but this experience trounced most of the other planned out activities of the tour!
Nostalgia EE 84 