Returning Back

Ralph Waldo Emerson once quoted “Life is a journey, not a destination”. Keeping that spirit in mind this blog is about my journey back from a weekend trip.

Sometimes, returning from an eventful trip directly back to office can be very daunting. But if you have to wait at a pier for a small boat, against the view of a slow sun rise over a lazy river, waking up the ducks and in full view of a fisherman spreading his net creating ripples over the otherwise calm river  – you wouldn’t be blamed for feeling a little surreal.

We were returning from Mayapur and I was still groggy from the long day before - http://t.co/aWOrrzY  since I had planned to reach work on time that day – and since we had to make a cycle rickshaw-boat-walk -train-taxi trip we started before dawn.

Bengal operates in its own unique speed. Patience is important when the Boatman (I will start only when the boat overflows with people irrespective of how much money you might offer) and Cycle Rickshaw man (I will have a cup of chai and don’t you dare show me more money) and the Taxi Man (I can’t take you as I need to finish my important discussion and read the newspaper after that, I will take more money but later) make you wait for what seems like eternity. No such problems with the Train however – it was late as always.

But then this is Bengal and the beauty is in the wait and the wait makes you see the beauty of the place. So waiting became second nature (far from the maddening crowd and chaos and the push and shove of Kolkata) and we waited alongside pilgrims with shaven heads (and a rat’s tail like chotti) dressed in cream colored clothes with a yellow “Hare Krishna shawl” Some of them had percussion dholaks with narrow sides (like starved mrindangam).

The crowd was on the other side – sellers of sweets, T-shirts, photo-frames, idols and starved mridangams waiting to make their killing deal with the white man. Not that all the white men were ready to be sucked. We saw a lot of dhoti wearing, bald (except the rat chotti), Bengali speaking, Paan chewing yet mineral water carrying white men and women looking blissfully happy, yet ready to strike a good bargain “twenty rupees no more”

So this blog is about me returning back – but there isn’t much to write home about - Except the view. The fumes of hot breakfast clouding Krishnanagar station or watching something that never fails to make me envious – that of a stray dog napping blissfully in the platform. So as the train arrived - I jostled and pushed and shoved to get a window seat. I spent the next couple of hours soaking in the view, listening to music, avoiding glancing inside the compartment at the people standing for hours (a moment of considerate chivalry can lead to hours of considerable body ache throughout the first working day of the week) – as the train slowly moved toward Biddhanagar. Eventually it dropped me safe & sound (albeit a little tired) an hour after the scheduled time.

One of the most common sights of Bengal is that of a large pond outside a semi constructed house. It is ironical that in a state surrounded by water bodies and where you probably have to dig 5 feet to hit a water table – there are still areas without regular water supply. I’m digressing again from the title of the blog and so we return to the crowded compartment of the local train as it passes through Barrackpore – where once a Mangal Pandey was revolted by passing rumors (which turned out to be true) and raised a revolt against the white man – who at that time wasn’t really in the bald head-cream colored-Paan chewing frame of mind.  

I’m not going to delve on what happened after the train reached my destination. As it is not fun to read about pushing and shoving and maneuvering through a subway drenched with godknowswhat and the smells of an urban railway station which is basically a potpourri of sweat and urine and breakfast and flowers and incense from the make-shift temple at the end of the subway.

So why don’t we rewind from the subway drenched with godknowswhat to the crowded train to the short walk back to the river and from the boat ride to the pier where my friend Rahul is waiting, observing, living in the moment.