“Why
Jammu?”
“Untapped
area my boy. Lots of potential projects
there”
“As far
as I know we have one big customer on whom we should focus. We should not go
fishing in unknown waters.”
“Stop
acting smart. You are stuck in Delhi this weekend anyway. Visit Jammu and find
out for yourself”
“Will
the army be there to protect me?”
“Stop
this nonsense!”
“What
nonsense? You know how it is in Kashmir.”
“Yes.
That’s Kashmir and this is Jammu.”
“They
are different?”
“Yes,
they are different”
“What
should I do there?”
“Call
Vinay. He will tell you.”
“Oh
no! Not Vinay. I have a big problem in understanding him. Every time he calls
me he talks for an hour but at the end of it I have absolutely no idea what he said.
“
“Boss,
you have to learn to work with people. You cannot pick and choose the people
you work with. Learn to work with anyone.”
“I
have no issues working with anyone other than Vinay.”
“What
about Sunil?”
“Oh
yes! Sunil's annoying.”
“And
what about …”
“I will
talk to Vinay and go to Kashmir”
“Not
Kashmir, Jammu”
“Good
bye”
I cut
the call and searched for the name Vinay in contacts. I looked at the name for
a long time, took a deep breath and pressed the call button. Twenty five
minutes passed and I found myself telling “Hey Vinay, I am in Delhi too. Why
don’t we meet someplace and discuss face to face?”
“Good
idea yaar. Why don’t you come over to Gurgaon? You can take the metro.”
An
hour later, I got out of the metro and called Vinay to find his location.
“Arre
yaar! I live very close to the Metro station. Why don’t you come home? I have
made some paalak samosa. We will have them with tea and discuss.”
I
was gnashing my teeth as I disconnected the call. He had warned not to pay more
than 60 rupees for auto. As soon as I got out of the station, I was mobbed by auto
drivers. I announced my destination and immediately got a 100 rupee response. I
responded with half the value. The guy walked off in disgust but another guy
jumped in and said OK. I walked towards the auto when another guy enticed me
with a 40 rupee fare. I looked at the auto for moment but the high morals
instilled in me forced me to refuse the offer. The ride was eventless and as I
got out of the auto, I saw a grinning Vinay walking towards me with a “How much
is he asking?” “He gave back a surprised “that’s it eh?” for my response.
I prayed
to all the gods I was aware of as I walked into the house. An hour later I
realized that the gods had forsaken me. I had thought I did not understand
Vinay on calls. I now realized I did not understand him. I thought it had
something to do with his accent but the issue was the content. He talked about things
he did not understand. His talk jumped from one statement to another unrelated
statement. In between he put in a few
lines about how unfairly the world treated him. The distractions compounded the
general incoherence to make the session seem like a new age European art movie.
In desperation, I still had no idea what I was supposed to do at Jammu but
tried to summarize it anyway. He responded with a “have another samosa”. Paalak
samosa is not an appealing dish but out of politeness I already had three
samosas. One more and face would have started turning green.
The
flight from Delhi to Jammu went on to Srinagar too and was packed. Many of the passengers were young couple
probably off to their honeymoon. I toyed with the idea of having breakfast in
the flight but decided to wait till I got to Jammu as I wanted to try the local
cuisine. Jammu airport seemed like a make shift place with a lot of
construction taking place around it. As I walked into the terminal and picked
my bag the mobile announced the arrival of a call. It was from one of my talkative
colleagues. The call went on for 30 useless minutes and in this time I made
four unsuccessful attempts to end the call by saying “OK man…”. Finally I had to
resort to “Hey I am getting another call. Will call you back”.
By
this time, everyone from the flight had left and the airport was empty. I
looked at my messages to determine the location of my meeting but found the message
“Vinod ji I will reach Jammu by 2pm. Why don’t you pick a cab and visit the
Ragunath temple and other temples till then?” I loved visiting places but not
when there is something to be done. If
there is time after work, I like going around but not prior to it. Even then I really did not care visiting
temples unless there is some tremendous history attached to it. Unfortunately in the north most of the
historic temples have been destroyed in invasions. Hence one has to be satisfied with new age temple
built on historic sites. So with very
little interest and choice I decided to visit the famous temples of Jammu.
The prepaid taxi counter was empty. There were
two other counters inside the terminal. One was a Vayadooth terminal, which
seemed to have been empty for a very long time. The other was a helicopter
terminal promising to take people to Vaishno Devi, which was filled with
security personnel. I asked one of them very politely where I can find a taxi. He
looked at the gun by his side and then gave me a “why are you asking me a may I
help you type of question” look. I took no heed of the look but stood there
with a firm south Indian lost in north India expression. The guy accepted
defeat and gave an intelligent “check the prepaid taxi counter” response. I had
expected that response and instantly went back with a “but it’s empty“. My
response was an expected response too and he retorted immediately “try the one
outside “.
I
walked out of the airport lounge into near emptiness. A few security personnel were
walking around, their guns hanging by their sides. The prepaid counter outside was
also empty. I looked around and found a person sitting in a booth with “may I
help you” board. As I walked up to the booth, the person gave me a “why are you
here” look. I ignored it and asked him where I can get a taxi. As expected he
responded “at the prepaid counter “. “But its empty” was my protest. He walked
out of his booth and looked across to the prepaid counter. He took out his
mobile, dialled a number and put it against his ear. I did not hear him say
anything into the mobile but a moment later, I saw someone walk into the
prepaid counter. I thanked the “may I help you” man and walked up to the other counter.
I was invited with a “why are you here” expression again. When I enquired for a
cab, he said I will find one outside the gate at the taxi stand. I thanked him
profusely for the help and walked towards the gate.
Outside
I saw a young couple waiting. They seemed to be waiting for a taxi and I joined
the queue. The guy turned around and
looked at me suspiciously. I stared back
at him defiantly and he stared back at me vehemently. The vehement stare
reminded me of the prepaid fellow’s instructions to take a left from the
gate. I looked left to see a prepaid
taxi shed just outside a petrol bunk. I walked up to the counter and asked for
a cab for half a day. The stand was run by a Sardar who was busy writing
something into a book. He looked up after a couple of minutes and asked “what
do you want sirji?”
“I
need a taxi for four hours”.
“Oye
Sukhi! Will you go for a four hour
package” shouted the Sardar.
“Of
course” responded the driver Sukhi Sardar.
By
the time I paid the rent for the cab Sukhi was walking towards his car with my
luggage. When we got into the car Sukhi started groping his pockets and the
store spots in the car’s dashboard. He kept mumbling something through the
search. He gave up after a few minutes. He looked at me and said “some bastard
has taken my key, let me check at the counter”. A few minutes later he came
back and started the car.
“Oh!
Was it at the counter?” I asked stupidly.
“No sir.
This is the duplicate. One of those bastards is playing the fool. I will kill him
when I find who it is. Sir, can we have some tea before we go?”.
“I would like to have lunch. I have not even had
my breakfast.”
“Would
some simple food be okay with you? “
I
assumed simple food to be some type of dhaba food and accepted. Almost
immediately he parked the car and stepped out. When I got out of the car I
found that my understanding of simplicity was not simple enough. The dhaba was
a nameless road side shanty with a few chairs and a table. As I walked in I
realized the place was not dirty but only rundown. The table seemed to have
come from the 1800 and did not seem strong enough to stand the load of a
plateful of rice. The chairs seemed to be in the same state as the table. I
requested god to take care of my spinal chord and hip bone as I carefully
placed my backside in one of the chairs. It took my weight undauntedly and did
not let out some as a creak. I looked around and noticed a pair of eyes staring
at me. Like in most places I have visited in recent times here too I was a
misfit. When they saw I had seen them staring at my misfitness, they averted their
eyes back to the television screen. The all important final day of the India
South Africa third test was taking place and in compassion an odd misfit
attired in a blazer, formal shirt and trouser can only be of so much interest.
The
owner of the restaurant informed that the menu consisted of phulka with vegetables
and rice with rajamma. I chose the phulka combination but like a long lost
uncle the dhaba man informed me that he will throw in some rice and rajamma
too. I gave him a thankful smile. When
the food arrived I was disappointed to see that it was not very appealing; the
vegetable dish was too vegetablish and too few rajammas were swimming the
sumptuous swimming pool. As soon as I started eating I felt relieved. The food
was so devoid of taste that it had to be healthy. No oil and no salt. The
dhabawalla had added some delicious chilli chutney. I mixed it with every other
dish on plate and gobbled it in. When I was nearly done the long lost uncle
offered more rice, which I refused politely and asked for some tea instead. I
don’t remember how the tea tasted. There is good chance it was as miserable as
90% of tea served around the world.
By
the time, I got up the cab driver had come back from the stand. He had gone
back in search of the key. When I asked him about his search, he gave a sad
shrug and hurled abuses at some names. As soon as we got into the cab, I asked
Sukhi to take me to the Ragunath temple. For a moment I felt surprised by my
enthusiasm to visit a temple. I only had one or two phases in my life when I visited
temples regularly but the credit for that lay with others. The current
enthusiasm should be attributed to the necessity of spending a few hours in
Jammu, which had nothing other than temples to offer and the possibility of a new
God helping me through these tough times. The route to the temple from the
airport was fairly nondescript. I found Jammu was nothing like the places
Shammi Kapoor pranced through in Kashmir Ki Kali. I realized that Jammu was not
Kashmir. It seemed like any other
crowded Indian small town. In retrospect it seems like a hillier version of
Salem.
As I
travelled through the city, I saw that many of the residents were Sikhs. Sukhi
said that the Sikh population was spread across Punjab, Himachal and
Jammu. He went on to say that the
residents of Jammu are different from the Sikhs of Punjab. He did not detail
out the differences but mentioned that they had come to Jammu at the time of King
Ranjith Singh. He then went on to describe the frustrations of the Sikhs post the
gruesome 84 riots. “Sikhs are highly energetic and patriotic people. We were an
integral part of the Independence movement. Once the country became free, we
joined the army to channelize our energy in the service of our nation. But the
incidents of 84 have doused the fire of patriotism and these days Sikhs look
towards the west. They prefer expending
their energy to live a good in countries like Canada and UK.”
All
through this discourse, Sukhi's focus kept flitting from the road. His driving
was inconsistent and this made it difficult for other drivers to keep track of his
varying speed. They honked, cursed and stared at him but Sukhi seemed oblivious
of the annoyance directed at him. He
crawled inconsistently through the Jammu traffic, which was as chaotic as in many
other Indian cities. At one signal, I saw a Maruti driving reverse at great
speed on the wrong side (which is the right side) of the road. The car was
nevird by a Sardar and he travelled at about 40Kph for a good 200 metres.
As we
reached the temple, Sukhi started cautioning me “Do not look at anyone or talk
to anyone. Go pray to God and let not the crooks there loot you. All these
Pooja-vooja are waste; just pray to god from your heart. I will drop you here;
give me a call when you are done. Remember! Be careful.”
From
the outside, the temple did not look like the ones I am used to in south.
Gopurams and sculptures did not invite me.
Instead the entrance was a door in a plain yellow wall. Devotees cannot
carry in anything other than their wallet and money. Even the leather belt had
to be removed. I walked in through the entrance hall into a courtyard. The
temple was at the far end of the courtyard. I walked towards it looking around.
The place looked more like an ashram than a temple. As I got into the temple, lord
Ram with his consorts invited me. I
stood at the railing separating me from the Gods and stared down at the neatly
arranged notes of 100 and 500. A priest walked over, held me by my shoulders,
asked my name and started chanting prayers for the prosperity of poor soul. Despite Sukhi’s warning I was trapped. I gave
the plateful of notes a worried look.
Most
of my life, religion and I had maintained a respectable distance from each
other. My early years were influenced by the movies and I looked at the clouds
get a glimpse of the gods. After two decades of living, science started
impacting my thought process. I did not expect seeing Gods when I looked up at clouds.
Even then I hoped Gods existed somewhere beyond the stars. In a few years, I
let go of these hopes too and I labelled self a rationalist. But being a rationalist was not easy. Not
having someone to take care of your problems made it difficult to live. Around this time, I ran into the term agnostic
and latched on to it as it seemed to describe me perfectly – too confused to decide.
Even this phase became shaky when I ran into through a very tough phase a few
months ago and I had to give into god and his/her religion. But the results were
erratic and my visits to the temples and prayers to God reduced
dramatically. And then the month of
November struck me...
November
turned out to be a month of upheavals and events of the month weighed on me heavily
as the priest chanted the prayers into my ears. The 100s and 500s on the plate mesmerized
me further. Ram temples are not common in the south and I don’t believe I have
visited one for a long time (if ever). I
wondered if like a new medicine, this new god has a cure for my recurrent bad
times. Would the 100 rupee version of this medicine be sufficient or did I
require a 500 rupee one? All these thoughts and questions were pushing me back
to agnosticism but the priest’s iron grip of my shoulders was coaxing me to
drop in a 500 to wash away my worries. By this time, the priest was running out
of his mantras and I believe he had already requested Ram Prabhu to make this
worried soul a karodpati thrice. He started nudging, tapping my shoulders and
using his head to point at the plate. I shifted my eyes from the plate to the
idol of lord Ram who gave me a “so what are you going to do” expression. The
priest put in some urgency into his nudges and was forced to mention “place
your offering and move on son”. I took out my wallet and opened the smaller
notes section. I looked at the 10 rupee note and then at the plate. I opened
the larger notes section and pulled out a 100 rupee note. As I took the note
towards the plate, the priest’s left hand snatched the note and the right hand
shoved me away. Within seconds his focus was on large family entering the
temple. I gave a final “don’t forget my offerings, prayers and me” look at lord
Ram and left the temple.
As I
was back towards the exit, I heard a voice informing me to offer prayers to the
sun god. The sun god resided in a dark room that had a single door to enter and
exit. I did not dare to enter the room. The voice warned me about the ineffectiveness
of my prayers and offerings if I did not visit the sun god’s chamber. I did not
pay heed but walked on briskly. I
prophesied that lord Ram would force the sun god to rise in the west if he meddled
with my prayers. I am glad to see that the sun continues to rise in the east –
lord Ram is working on my prayers.
I
got out of the temple complex after paying a 10 rupee tip at the free slipper
stand and called Sukhi. As I entered the cab, Sukhi asked “did you get
cheated?” My response was truthful.
Sukhi wanted to take me to he will take me to
another temple but I refused. “Ah! Then
we will visit the palace” said Sukhi. As
we were driving to the palace Sukhi started recalling event from his life. “I
was a hunter. We used to get into the
jungles and kill birds and animals. One
day, I heard Maneka ji and decided to change.
I went from being a hunter to being a conservator. I now work towards the conservation of
birds. But I am afraid that the change
took place too late. There are hardly
any birds left. When I was young our
homes were filled with different types of birds. Today only the pigeons and crows are
left. There are no other birds. You see the place on the left. It used to be filled with deer and birds. But there are no deer and when we get into
the forest there’s only silence. No
chirping of birds at all. Even pigeons
and crows are struggling these days.
Many of their young ones are born with defects and soon after hatching we
are forced to end their lives. We prick
them with a needle dipped in cyanide.
Death for such deformed birds is much better than living. Even the common and hardy birds are unable to
survive the radiation from the mobile antennas and pollution. I tell you sir; we are coming to the end of
our times. Soon a big catastrophe will
take place and most of us will die. 90%
of human beings will be gone and everything will start all over again”.
I interjected
a few words to this monologue. I brought
in the topic of sparrows that have gone missing from Madras (in fact Madras
itself is missing; we are now forced to live with its poorer cousin
Chennai). But these distractions did not
create much of an impact to the monologue.
It ended when we turned off the main road and went in through a gate into
the palace grounds. The way to the
palace was blocked by security personnel and as we approached it Sukhi asked me
to tell them that I had come looking for a room in the hotel.
“What
hotel?”
“The
palace is the first building you see on the left. Beyond it there is a hotel.”
“But
why can’t we just tell them that we are going to the palace?”
“I
think the palace is closed.”
“What!”
“Not
to worry sir, the hotel is just like the palace. There are some very good old photographs
there. You should see it.”
Jammu
is not a place for sightseeing; it is a plain Indian city that gets crowded in
the winter as the Government shifts here from Srinagar. It is the gateway to Vaishno Devi and by
itself did not seem to have any character.
Sukhi was trying his best to keep me amused in such an unamusing place. But his conversations were more amusing than
the place itself. We reached the
security block and Sukhi informed that I was looking for a room at the
hotel. We passed the palace en route to
the hotel. It was built in European style
and did not create much of an impression on me.
The hotel had a similar structure.
I got out of car and went in. I
was more interested in using their restroom than in seeing the place. To not look like a sightsee-er, I enquired room
availability for that night at the reception.
I was sure rooms were not available as the hotel was decked up for a
reception of some sort. I got the
expected response. But instead of
walking away I gave in to my curiosity got better of me. I asked the taboo question
– “What are the charges for a night?”
The lady at the counter gave me a “that’s who you are” look and said 35K. I smiled and walked on to the backyard, which
had a big lawn with tables and chairs.
It overlooked a dry river bed, which I later learned is the Tawi
River. I would not say that it was a
sight to be seen but it was pleasant enough to take a selfie (which will stay
in my mobile and laptop forever).
I
got out of the hotel after a quick visit to the wash room (I wish I could use
the word toilet – all these rest and wash room makes it seem more than what it
really is). Sukhi’s first question when
I got into the car was “So did you see those beautiful photographs?” This
time, I lied in response.
“So where do you want to go? There is nothing else to be seen in Jammu?”
“I
want to buy some sweets and dry fruits.
Take me to the best sweet shop in Jammu”
This
resulted in Sukhi taking me through a number of rights and lefts. At some places he had to back off due to the
incessant traffic from the opposite direction.
Sukhi talked about a number of
things, which have all grown faint in my head.
He talked about a famous old theatre that is now closed due to some
political pressure. He said that the
area around the theatre used to be a jungle when he was young but now mankind
has turned it into a concrete jungle. In
the process, he informed me that he is much older than me. He continued his dooms day prediction for
mankind. He talked about how the current
government in the centre has increasingly sidelined the minority and thus has
increased the feeling of insecurity for all.
He informed that the auto rickshaw could explode anytime; we can never
be sure. The mood was, in general, black
and bleak. I bought some sweets and dry
fruits from the most famous shops in Jammu.
I
decided I had enough of negativity for the month and wanted to go to my meeting
place. I called my contact in Jammu and
he asked me to “go to Sector 8”. I asked
“Sector 8?” I received an annoyed response “Sectariat”. I passed this information to Sukhi who in a
matter of minutes dropped me at the location and sped away without a proper
farewell. The next few hours were spent
in waiting, confusion and frustration. I
did not meet the person I had come to meet.
But I reached the planned destination and met someone else. I got out of the office complex at 4PM. My
train to Delhi was at 7:40PM. I called my contact person person at Jammu. He asked me to take an auto and come over to
a place that he would SMS me. Soon I
received the SMS that said “Please Come To Digiana Ashram Gurdwara”. I hailed an auto and asked him to take me to
“Dijiana ashram gurdwara”. He asked “where”
and I repeated the name of the place. I
repeated the name of the place a few more time before he responded “Oh!
Dighiana ashram gurdwara”. The guy took
off and made me realize that Jammu was a bigger place than I thought. He sped around for a 30 minutes before he
informed me that we had reached the location.
As I looked around without really knowing what I was looking for, I
received a call from a numberI did not know.
The person at the other end said he was sent to pick me and asked me
where I was. I handed the phone to the
auto driver who spoke for a bit before handing back the phone and speeding
on. It was 5PM and I was not sure if I
would be able to make it to the station.
He stopped the auto a few minutes later.
He pointed at a car parked on the other side of the road and informed me
that the car would take me to the destination.
The auto guy demanded a hefty charge that I had to pay. I crossed the road and got into the car.
The
driver took off but instead of going straight he made a near 360 degree turn
and got into a narrow gully that was right behind the car. In the process he nearly ran over two or three
two wheelers. The car proceeded into the
gully at great speed. What followed was
a series of head spinning rights and lefts executed at a great pace. I was reminded of the scene kidnapping scene from
Roja. The big difference in this case
was that I got into the car on my own and I was not bound or blind folded. But the differences did not matter when I
sitting in a car with strangers speeding through narrow unfamiliar streets in a
place that is not exactly know for its safety.
Five minutes into the ride I was convinced I was getting kidnapped. In the current sorry state of our finance, I
thought my family, friends and colleagues could only manage to get back parts
of me rather than the whole. I was not
sure if there was any use of calling out to God for help. I closed my eyes and attempted to fall asleep
or induce a heart attack. I succeeded in
neither by the time the car reached its destination.
The
car was parked outside a large bungalow.
It was surrounded by small houses on all sides and seemed completely out
of place. I walked towards the bungalow on
a path running through a lawn. “Could
this be the easiest kidnapping ever?” was the thought running through my
head. I was shown into a room with a fat
man drinking tea and eating nuts, kachoris and samosas. I smiled at him but his focus did not waver
from the food. I hoped this is not the
person I had come to meet and waited. Soon
a large man in kurta pyjama walked in. The
meeting itself did not go on for more than 10 minutes. Much as I would like to share the learning
from that meeting, I am forced not to. I
walked out relieved at not being kidnapped and at same time disappointed at the
pointlessness of the whole trip.
