It was sharp 6 in the morning when the bus reached Dehradun bus
station. Tara had always wondered how these buses could be so
punctual on the road. It impressed her how it never got distracted
and always reached its destination – on time. It was one of those
spontaneous weekend trips that is expected to rejuvenate the mind.
Tara had called Gina in the early hours of the last working day of
that week. Early morning call got a Gina still trying to find peace
with lack of sleep and a little irritable by a deadline that kept her
awake till 2 in the morning. But just that one line – the hills are
calling - was enough to get Gina smiling out of the bed. It took them
nearly 7 hours to move past the noise of the national capital to the
capital of the hilly provincial state. Could slowly see the changing
dynamics of street lights and flickers from the shops, malls,
building – all playing in tandem with the sharp glares of the
moving vehicles. There were no set plans, except the one to come back
by Monday morning to walk into our offices set to conquer the world.
The monsoon was just fading by. The winter still waiting in close in
the backdrops to take stage. As they moved further and further away
from the city, their bodies slowly curled up to the chill in the air.
The packing wasn't perfect. Gina kept digging in the backpack and
finally found a warm warp. The two of them shared the warp,
bargaining for their bit of the warmth.
While
the loud and eager passengers deboarded the bus Tara found herself
cosying up to the warmth of the sun entering through the window. It
was like a stroke of orange colour mixed with some yellow on a blue
palette. As the morning rays touched her face, her lips parched
greedily. Tara looked to her right and smiled finding Gina equally
unwilling to just yet let go of her seat. Maybe most other passengers
have come back home for the weekend from the hustling bustling of the
big cosmopolitan city; maybe they want to run into the arms of their
beloved or play with their children; maybe they are hurrying to have
breakfast at their large family tables. Slowly both got off the bus
with a smile that on their faces that babies have when pampered with
their favourite lullaby. The moment Tara touched the ground at the
valley, and smelled the fresh morning air, she could hear the
bubbling sound of joy somewhere within her. Gina started walking
around. This was a known city to them. They had come here a few times
before but it was their first time together. After aimlessly walking
around a few narrow lanes and their narrower by-lanes they came back
to the bus stop. It was as if they had read each others minds –
both wanted to go somewhere further up the hills. This is still a
city, a growing city – and, their minds wanted to rest in the laps
of the hills. But where? Gina remembered reading about Chakrata a few
days back. It was another couple of hours uphill. Tara couldn't be
happier to be further away from any city, with higher probability of
low mobile networks range.
They took the next local bus that goes to Chakrata and found seats
beside each other. They wanted to sit at two different window seats
but the already overwhelming male population in the bus had them
silently agree to sit beside each other. Very few women were there,
sitting beside their husbands. Suddenly the gender disparity in the
country seemed to come alive. And, it also became evident how foreign
they were in their own country. Sitting beside each other helped in
being a small team of such “foreigners”. After a few stops, few
more women boarded the bus. All seemed like resilient micro
entrepreneurs, travelling for their business. Slowly the other
passengers started talking to Tara and Gina. They wanted to know
where did the two twenty-something year old girls come from; where
were they going; what work do they have there? Tara tried explaining
that they were on a holiday and everyone disapproved of their choice.
Said, there was nothing to see there. But there was one question
which neither of them had an answer to – were the two girls
travelling alone? Gina, quite innocently had pointedly out that they
were together the first time they were asked this question. But soon,
she realised she doesn't know the question, they don't have an
answer. The different languages spoken in the bus, the different
colours people were wearing and the varied conversations people were
having made for a contrasting background for the lush green on both
sides of the road. There were so many shades of green dancing to the
tunes of the blue sky! Tara and Gina were having small talks with
other passengers and sometimes with each other but soon both silently
appreciated the performance of many greens. The leaves and the
flowers on the different branches of the trees, the carpeting grass,
the many many plants in many many sizes – performing a ballet just
for them.
By the time they got off the bus, they were already mesmerized. They
walked across the hilly village roads and talked to everyone on the
way. Everyone knew the that the two young city bred girls were not
from any of the neighbouring towns or villages. Along with the mixed
floral fragrant, one could also smell the curiosity. This was not a
known tourist destination. It was, in fact, an army base. Then why
were two girls spending their weekend holiday there, all “alone”?
Curiosity was not only aimed towards these two not-so-local
strangers. Tara and Gina were also curious and a little confused as
well. Everyone they met were very warm and hospitable. So there were
attempts at knowing each other. For this, the locals mostly asked –
what were the two girls doing in this unknown place? And for the
local strangers, it was trying to ask a simple question like, “what
do you do”? No one seemed to know the answer. There were
acknowledging nods, and warm smiles lest the guests felt unwelcome.
But there were no answer to that question. Men or women, boys or
youth – all were a little frazzled by that question. Some of them
were so confused that they asked the question right back and without
a blink Tara replied she was a journalist and Gina said she was
lawyer unhesitating. However, these answers only confused the
interviewers even more. The replies Tara and Gina got in return for
their “what do you do” was either “everything” or “nothing”.
Both answers were very perplexing to their twenty-something minds.
How could anyone do nothing or anything?
That's how two days and a night was flew by. Tara ended the
spontaneity of the travel by planning the return well in advance.
This heavenly place was around the corner of a small bus stop and
only very limited transportation was available. Both of them worked.
There had to swipe in their cards and report in their respective
offices at 9 AM. There was no discussion on that. There was no
spontaneity there. They were both doing something with their lives,
something which they both thought was important. They planned to take
the last vehicle from the place which starts at four in the
afternoon. The end of spontaneity also saw the two almost an hour
early at the small stop from where all the vehicles go down hill to
the city. They were used to running for flights, and jumping on to
trains threatening to leave the platform. But right there they
couldn't take any chance of missing the vehicle – the last one from
there, the last one that could make them so their important
“something” in office on the Monday morning. But they were too
early. And the vehicle would most like not leave on time. They found
a nice corner around the sidewalks of the hills. There were knee high
flat barricades at the edges. They took different barricades a little
far from one another. Gina was quick to lie down and start reading
the autobiography she was carrying. Tara found a tree branch and
converted it into a pillow. Opened her book of plays by a well known
contemporary playwright. But she was distracted by the soft winds.
Her hand held the book and a few pages flipped by itself. The book
also enjoyed the breeze and rested on her bosom which was vibrating
softly, swaying with the winds as she hummed. It was one of her
favourite songs that kept her company all through her teen years and
longer. Not too long, and she heard someone whistling the chorus with
her. She eyes moved quickly to look for the one who dared to break
into her space. And who would have known this song? Her favourite
from her region of the country? Who would know this song here where
they didn't even speak her language?
Her eyes didn't have to work too hard to find the alleged
perpetrator. He was of average built and very keen eyes. Seeing her
move , he had stopped whistling and took three steps closer to her.
She half sat up, letting the tree branch fall off the edge. He said
in a very composed voice, “You shouldn't be lying like this on the
roadside and reading.” Tara didn't like this unsolicited advice.
Who was he? And what makes him suddenly stop by to drop some advice?
Oh! Was it again about two women travelling alone! Tara sat up
defiantly and asked, “Why not?” The man continued in his calm
voice, “because it is not common to see girls doing this here and
men from the army often harassed the local girls here. They might
offend you too.”
There was a caring comfort in his voice. Tara smiled and shifted to
her left, making space for him to join her. But she did not
explicitly invite him to do so. They exchanged their names. He spoke
to her in more than one language. There was a sudden level of comfort
found in the cocktail of languages that she was usually used to
speaking in the big city. Taking the conversation further, she asked
him “What do you do?” And, he said, “I live”. Just as she was
about to dismiss him yet another person trying to play around with
words, her eyes met his. They were crystal clear but deep with
intent. He meant it. He meant what he said and there was no game
there. He lived. She couldn't take her eyes of his and he looked
straight into hers. There was nothing but sincerity in them.
Unmindful honesty. He broke the silence by offering to pick a few
marijuana leaves for her from the slope right there. She couldn't
resist the idea of tasting marijuana leaves freshly plucked. She
nodded and walked behind him. Just as they started talking again, she
could hear something from the distance but couldn't recognise the
sound. He did. He said in a rushed voice, “The army men are around.
They might harass us if they see us together. I must go.” Before
Tara could turn back, he was gone. Like he never existed. A few
freshly plucked marijuana leaves adorned the ground. She didn't pick
them up. The army men walked past. As soon as they foot steps drowned
in the silence of the hills, there was a ray of hope that he might
reappear. But he didn't.
It was time for the vehicle to leave for the city. They got onto it.
Only a few minutes on the road, and Tara was already integrated in
the trance of the world outside the small vehicle. With every drop of
the drizzling rain, she could hear a whistling sound; with every move
of the whistling winds she could hear, “I live”.
Years later, when they was both thirty something, Gina and Tara
snuggled in the warm blanket, sipping warm tea as the rain wiped the
rather long window pane. They were talking about nothing in
particular and pondered about various things in life. Gina , in an
attempt to describe love, said, “when you think of someone before
going to bed, that's love.” The words fell on Tara like the rain on
the window pane. She silently sipped her warm amber coloured tea. Her
favourite song was playing on the radio. Memories of a late monsoon
afternoon on a hilly roadside came pouring down on her. If thinking
of someone before going to bed was love, then she is in love. He was
often the first person she thought of when she opened her eyes, and
often the last person whose thoughts lingered before she dozed off.
Yet, she cant tell a story about it – she doesn't even remember his
name any more. She tried very hard but there was only a blurry image
of his face, as if the focus on the features were washed away by the
rain. She walked on the streets in the rain that day – looking at
every face she passed and wondered - “did he look a little like
you?”
