"What a looonnng journey??" I sighed on hearing the famed newspaper ad nearby. The barely audible ad confirmed that the 9 hrs train journey to my new hometown in the God's own country had at last come to an end. After flexing my limbs which had gone numb in the travel, I moved to the compartment's door with a laptop backpack and a huge travel bag with clothes for washing. I was looking outside, towards the dark horizon, scanning my new home town after having been a native of a nearby state since my birth. It was not the first time I was travelling to this part of the country. Being a native of the God's own land and with all my relatives staying , I used to travel once or twice a year to spend my vacations here. But this particular journey was different.
The train approached the platform at a decelerating speed. I glanced at the huge digital clock in the platform and it read 19:18 hrs in red. "Hmmm!Before time aanalle?(Before time isn't it??)" came a query from a man standing behind me. I smiled and nodded. The very sight of watching people of my land in the platform evoked a sense of joy in me. The train had almost stopped but not entirely stopped. I safely checked my belongings and when I looked up, a group of 10-15 were rushing towards me. "How the hell did they know that I am coming tonight? Wasn't this a surprise visit? Sho! Ivarude oru sneham!!So sweet!", I thought to myself and grinned. But that grin didn't last long. "Ninnu pooram kaanadhe erangada cherukka!!(Stop looking around and get the hell down moron!)" yelled a dhoti clad middle aged man. I got down from the running or in fact limping train much against my safety ideals. I looked back at the dhotiwallah , he was already seated inside the train . I was still fuming . "How arrogant and disrespectful he had addressed me!What a welcome,Sirji!!". I didn't want to spoil my mood thinking of that. In fact I was in a celebration mood and I had traveled all the day to reach my home the night before my mom's birthday. It was a surprise visit!
After few huffs and puffs, I exited the station and took an auto to my home. I informed the driver to stop by any bakery shop to get a birthday cake for my mother. "O! O! Sheri", he responded. "Did he sound irritated? Yey!No!". Probably the bitter welcome was making me think like that. " Those words (at the railway station) were still resonating in my mind!". "Bully!", that was how I remembered the foul mouthed dhoti-walah at the station. As we rode away from the station, the roads were seen wearing a deserted look with no shops open. I glanced at the Titan on my left wrist and it showed 19:45. I was wondering what could have been the reason for the blackout. Such a situation in my previous home town would have meant only two things. Either there could be a superstar movie in any of the channels or some political big shot placed behind the bars.When I was about to check with the driver on this, I saw it.
I saw the glimmer of hope in a set of serial lights gleefully decorating a board "Vendhan Bakers". Someone from the neighboring state, I confirmed. I asked the auto driver to wait for 5 mins and quickly crossed the road towards the shop. I ordered for a sumptuous BlackForest cake and while it was being packed, I saw a group of people rushing towards the shop. They intimidated the sales man to close the shop immediately. They told that their leader was hacked to death a while back and they were calling for a hartal. I instinctively ran back towards the auto to continue my ride before any violence could erupt. I was feeling sorry for the leader and also for the cake. "Cake Poche!"
The driver broke my silence enquiring what had happened. I told him the sorrowful story :(. He suddenly took a deviation from the road to my home and brought the three wheeler to a halt and asked me to get down.Puzzled, I got down . He told that it would be risky to drive his new auto in that situation which meant I had to walk the remaining 500 and odd metres to my home. Annoyed,but with no other go, I asked "Ethra aayi?"(How much to pay?). "80 rupees!", came the answer . Dad had told 50 rupees maximum, but the guy was asking 80. When I told him the same, he replied, "50 Rs during day and 30 Rs night charges!!". "Whaat?? Night charges by 7:45 pm itself? " I was startled. I paid the money and started walking in the moonlight.
The bag was too heavy for me to carry and walk. Unable to bear its weight, I quickly looked around to see if anyone was around and quickly placed the bag on top of my head and started walking home. "Ailasa! Ailasa! Hey ! Hey! Ailasa!", I was joyfully telling and walking with the load. I lost my balance suddenly and the bag fell on the road with a big thud. Immediately from the street corner, 3-4 people in uniform came running shouting "Don't you know that it is our union's birth right to carry load?" I was completely perplexed. I told them that it was my travel bag with clothes and nothing else.But they were very adamant on the point "You can carry the load , but we need our gawking wages per our union laws!!"(Gawking wages is the wage paid just for looking on) "What the Hell??" I wanted to yawp. When it was turning into a heated argument, the clouds opened up to a heavy drizzle. They ran away from me in search of cover from the rain. "Thank you Varuna deva!" I said looking at the skies and continued my walk in the rain.
After some 15 mins of walk, I reached my home and gave a surprise to my parents. After the excitement had settled down, I told what and all happened on my way home. We immediately turned on the TV to see any report of the leader, whom I was told in the bakery shop, was attacked . The news channels confirmed that there was an attack by 8:30 pm . "How the hell did the people start protesting by 7:45 itself then? Advanced protesting pola!!", I thought.
After a sumptuous meal and a good nap in the next afternoon, my parents told me to go to a famous temple some 3-4 kms away. They told that it was the monthly auto strike day and hence I could walk or take a bus. I decided to walk. The clear skies with the clouds wearing a golden border courtesy of the setting sun , the never ending chirping of the birds along with a gentle breeze made my walk pleasant. The roads were lined with huge cutouts of international football stars and national flags of various footballing nations ."Football fanaticism!", I told myself. There were children running behind people for donations for various temple festivals. A couple of boys came in front of me and asked me donation to treat Nemar's(A famous footballer) rib injury from the last match. Did I hear that right? Yes, they repeated it again. My eye balls were about to pop out at that donation request. "Cheriya vaayil veliya nona!(Big lies flowing from small mouths)", I thought and somehow got away from that group.
In no mood to part of the Nemar welfare fund collection scam, I took a bus while returning from the temple. I gave the exact change to the conductor, but he didn't give me a ticket. When I asked him for one, he looked as I asked for his entire collection amount. He then told an old man standing near me, "Chetta!Ivide oru ticket kodu(Bro!Give a ticket here)". I extended my hand towards the man and he placed the ticket in my hand. But the ticket size seemed to be big, it was not a bus ticket, but a lottery ticket. "Your face tells me that you could be lucky to win the 10 crores bumper in tomorrow's lot. ", he told. "I asked for the bus ticket not a lottery ticket", I shouted. "No tickets in private buses here. We have only lottery tickets of Nepal! Bhutan!Burma ! Which one you need?". I was flabbergasted.
This was not what I had expected from this land and its subjects. People from other parts of the country look at the natives of this state with awe and envy. But all the egoistic disrespectful people whom I had met, the various tactics to get easy money from people in the name of donations, night tariffs, gawking charges, the goondas at the bakery shop, the hartals every alternate day and the people believing mainly in luck(lottery) but not daring to ask for ticket in a bus make me think that how true is the proverb"Ikkaraiku akkara pacha!(The grass is always greener on the other side)".
The train approached the platform at a decelerating speed. I glanced at the huge digital clock in the platform and it read 19:18 hrs in red. "Hmmm!Before time aanalle?(Before time isn't it??)" came a query from a man standing behind me. I smiled and nodded. The very sight of watching people of my land in the platform evoked a sense of joy in me. The train had almost stopped but not entirely stopped. I safely checked my belongings and when I looked up, a group of 10-15 were rushing towards me. "How the hell did they know that I am coming tonight? Wasn't this a surprise visit? Sho! Ivarude oru sneham!!So sweet!", I thought to myself and grinned. But that grin didn't last long. "Ninnu pooram kaanadhe erangada cherukka!!(Stop looking around and get the hell down moron!)" yelled a dhoti clad middle aged man. I got down from the running or in fact limping train much against my safety ideals. I looked back at the dhotiwallah , he was already seated inside the train . I was still fuming . "How arrogant and disrespectful he had addressed me!What a welcome,Sirji!!". I didn't want to spoil my mood thinking of that. In fact I was in a celebration mood and I had traveled all the day to reach my home the night before my mom's birthday. It was a surprise visit!
After few huffs and puffs, I exited the station and took an auto to my home. I informed the driver to stop by any bakery shop to get a birthday cake for my mother. "O! O! Sheri", he responded. "Did he sound irritated? Yey!No!". Probably the bitter welcome was making me think like that. " Those words (at the railway station) were still resonating in my mind!". "Bully!", that was how I remembered the foul mouthed dhoti-walah at the station. As we rode away from the station, the roads were seen wearing a deserted look with no shops open. I glanced at the Titan on my left wrist and it showed 19:45. I was wondering what could have been the reason for the blackout. Such a situation in my previous home town would have meant only two things. Either there could be a superstar movie in any of the channels or some political big shot placed behind the bars.When I was about to check with the driver on this, I saw it.
I saw the glimmer of hope in a set of serial lights gleefully decorating a board "Vendhan Bakers". Someone from the neighboring state, I confirmed. I asked the auto driver to wait for 5 mins and quickly crossed the road towards the shop. I ordered for a sumptuous BlackForest cake and while it was being packed, I saw a group of people rushing towards the shop. They intimidated the sales man to close the shop immediately. They told that their leader was hacked to death a while back and they were calling for a hartal. I instinctively ran back towards the auto to continue my ride before any violence could erupt. I was feeling sorry for the leader and also for the cake. "Cake Poche!"
The driver broke my silence enquiring what had happened. I told him the sorrowful story :(. He suddenly took a deviation from the road to my home and brought the three wheeler to a halt and asked me to get down.Puzzled, I got down . He told that it would be risky to drive his new auto in that situation which meant I had to walk the remaining 500 and odd metres to my home. Annoyed,but with no other go, I asked "Ethra aayi?"(How much to pay?). "80 rupees!", came the answer . Dad had told 50 rupees maximum, but the guy was asking 80. When I told him the same, he replied, "50 Rs during day and 30 Rs night charges!!". "Whaat?? Night charges by 7:45 pm itself? " I was startled. I paid the money and started walking in the moonlight.
The bag was too heavy for me to carry and walk. Unable to bear its weight, I quickly looked around to see if anyone was around and quickly placed the bag on top of my head and started walking home. "Ailasa! Ailasa! Hey ! Hey! Ailasa!", I was joyfully telling and walking with the load. I lost my balance suddenly and the bag fell on the road with a big thud. Immediately from the street corner, 3-4 people in uniform came running shouting "Don't you know that it is our union's birth right to carry load?" I was completely perplexed. I told them that it was my travel bag with clothes and nothing else.But they were very adamant on the point "You can carry the load , but we need our gawking wages per our union laws!!"(Gawking wages is the wage paid just for looking on) "What the Hell??" I wanted to yawp. When it was turning into a heated argument, the clouds opened up to a heavy drizzle. They ran away from me in search of cover from the rain. "Thank you Varuna deva!" I said looking at the skies and continued my walk in the rain.
After some 15 mins of walk, I reached my home and gave a surprise to my parents. After the excitement had settled down, I told what and all happened on my way home. We immediately turned on the TV to see any report of the leader, whom I was told in the bakery shop, was attacked . The news channels confirmed that there was an attack by 8:30 pm . "How the hell did the people start protesting by 7:45 itself then? Advanced protesting pola!!", I thought.
After a sumptuous meal and a good nap in the next afternoon, my parents told me to go to a famous temple some 3-4 kms away. They told that it was the monthly auto strike day and hence I could walk or take a bus. I decided to walk. The clear skies with the clouds wearing a golden border courtesy of the setting sun , the never ending chirping of the birds along with a gentle breeze made my walk pleasant. The roads were lined with huge cutouts of international football stars and national flags of various footballing nations ."Football fanaticism!", I told myself. There were children running behind people for donations for various temple festivals. A couple of boys came in front of me and asked me donation to treat Nemar's(A famous footballer) rib injury from the last match. Did I hear that right? Yes, they repeated it again. My eye balls were about to pop out at that donation request. "Cheriya vaayil veliya nona!(Big lies flowing from small mouths)", I thought and somehow got away from that group.
In no mood to part of the Nemar welfare fund collection scam, I took a bus while returning from the temple. I gave the exact change to the conductor, but he didn't give me a ticket. When I asked him for one, he looked as I asked for his entire collection amount. He then told an old man standing near me, "Chetta!Ivide oru ticket kodu(Bro!Give a ticket here)". I extended my hand towards the man and he placed the ticket in my hand. But the ticket size seemed to be big, it was not a bus ticket, but a lottery ticket. "Your face tells me that you could be lucky to win the 10 crores bumper in tomorrow's lot. ", he told. "I asked for the bus ticket not a lottery ticket", I shouted. "No tickets in private buses here. We have only lottery tickets of Nepal! Bhutan!Burma ! Which one you need?". I was flabbergasted.
This was not what I had expected from this land and its subjects. People from other parts of the country look at the natives of this state with awe and envy. But all the egoistic disrespectful people whom I had met, the various tactics to get easy money from people in the name of donations, night tariffs, gawking charges, the goondas at the bakery shop, the hartals every alternate day and the people believing mainly in luck(lottery) but not daring to ask for ticket in a bus make me think that how true is the proverb"Ikkaraiku akkara pacha!(The grass is always greener on the other side)".
