Jasidih

We, the young brigade of Dum Dum branch, were a bunch bursting with energy to spend as we liked. It was winter, the annual outing was overdue, and something had to be done about it. Long meetings followed one after the other and finally the destination was agreed upon – Deoghar. It had two spots of tourist interest, the famous Nau Lakshma temple and the Trikuth hill. We could hear them beckon!

Christmas was on a Monday and so we bought 22 return tickets and assembled below the famous clock on platform 9 at Howrah station. In spite of the proverbial laggards we found ourselves duly ensconced in our coach on time. I saw that Swapanda was carrying a paper wrapped item which he was handling with remarkable adroitness.

It was biting cold and we finished our supper in minutes. Some of us fell asleep immediately, while others started playing desi poker, called teen patti with rock-bottom stakes. Pranab called early next morning to inform me that the train had stopped and to ask whether I would like some tea. I was game since I was, quite literally, shivering from head to toe. We asked for two bhaars (earthen cups); thankfully the atrocious plastic glasses had not yet infringed upon our dignity! It cost Rs2/= and Pranab gave the vendor a Rs 5/= note. Within seconds, the train started and we called the chae wallah to return the change. By the time he had collected the required sum from his various pockets, the train had started to move on. He started running behind us with the money in his hand but our lead only increased, and the last we saw of him was standing helplessly, staring at the moving train. "Pranab," I told him, "this man was running after us to return Rs3/= and not the other way round! This is the real India."

We reached Jasidih (the rail head) pretty early. It was freezing cold. All of us resembled “Nakur Mama”: that immortal creation of Parasuram. We were covered from head to toe save just the eyes and nose! The only way to keep ourselves warm was by rubbing our hands and all sorts of similar movements! A bus was waiting at the station and we pushed ourselves in. Subrata had taken care of all the arrangements and soon we found ourselves in front of a spacious old-timer of a house.

After a heavy breakfast of boiled eggs, bread and butter, hot pantuas (gulab jamuns) and steaming coffee, we set out for our local sight-seeing. We hired 4/5 tangas and visited the famous Nau Lakshma temple. It was spotlessly clean and the austere surroundings charmed us. We went in search of a lunching joint around 2 p.m. All the restaurants had Bengali signboards. We picked one named "Aadi Dadar Hotel" and ordered rice, jhuri bhaja, daal, phul kopi kalia, machher jhaal, and dahi. We were unanimous in our pronouncement that none of us had ever had such a scrumptious meal in our lives!

After visiting a few more temples, we bought some peda: the mouthwatering delicacy of Deoghar. Hard bargaining led us to buy 60 Kg at Rs 30/=. As it was getting late we finished our supper early. The frugal meal consisted of roti, mutton curry and salad. The restaurant lights kept blinking on and off throughout the meal. We were told this had been the situation since time immemorial! We returned to our “resort”, and made ourselves comfortable with the limited blankets available. Most of us shivered the whole night, that being Mother Nature’s way of keeping her children warm!

Early next morning after breakfast, we left for Trikut hill, in a minibus. Subrata, the knowledgeable one, was our guide. He gave us some valuable tips. We should walk slowly, together, and not accost or irritate animals under any circumstances. We were to make as little noise as possible. These action points were only to ensure we returned intact!

I was one of the few who decided not to push my luck any further and stayed behind, at the “base camp”! After 4/5 hours our comrades returned without any major mishap. Only Kamalda had sprained an ankle and that was giving him considerable pain. After another filling meal of rice, daal, sabji, egg curry and sweets we came back to the villa. At around seven we vacated the place, tipped our "Man Friday" handsomely and proceeded to Jasidih Station. Little did we know that our travels were soon to be replaced by our travails!

Firstly, we came to learn that due to an agitation, all trains were running very late. As true Indian citizens, this did not come to us as much of news. What we were unprepared for was that there were no trains running at all! We spent a couple of hours in this state of shock, not fully able to comprehend the reality. Only one thought kept bugging us, if there were 22 staff members absent at work tomorrow, all hell would break lose! 

I also noticed that a number of bhaars were being bought from the nearest chae wallah, but not the tea. My comrades were disappearing from sight in groups of 5/6 and when they returned, another lot was performing this disappearing act. Only Kamalda went on uttering the choicest of expletives under his breath, while seated on a broken crate. Being the proverbial dullard, I could not understand the reason behind this behaviour till Pranab clarified, “They are going to unlit areas to finish the whisky brought from Calcutta. But due to his sprained ankle, Kamalda is unable to join them in spite of contributing his share!”

Six hours or so later, when we had failed to board the two trains that had stopped for a few minutes, Debuda came up with a brilliant idea. Two of our spokespersons went to meet the ASM and parted with some quick money. It worked wonders, as we saw later. (Fortunately, Anna Hazare was in the Army then).

The next train “waited” till all 22 of us shoved ourselves in one of the coaches. We were now precariously placed. Most of us were standing, while the remaining ones had had managed to carve out a slice of the nearest seats, to rest their posteriors. All the windows were tightly shut. Pranab managed to wriggle himself to a top berth. This turned out to be lethal. 

A boy of about 10 was sharing this berth with an adult. He went on farting at regular intervals - mini blasts of the horriblest stench one can imagine! Finally, Pranab asked him, “Tum ne kya khaya beta? Poora gas ban giya, 22.4 litre?” He offered his seat on the perch to me in exchange of my uncomfortable crammed position, which I politely, but firmly, refused. 

In the adjacent coupe, things were hotting up. Kamalda, still smarting over his futile investment, had forcibly sat down on a berth already being shared by a middle-aged couple. The gentleman was naturally irritated, and a heated argument ensued. Ultimately, he screamed, “Jaanta hai hum kaun hai?” Kamalda snapped back, “Tum Haridas Pal hai, ekbaar Asansol aane to do!” (We were still very much in Bihar).

Thankfully, the altercation did not proceed much longer, as all concerned dozed off. Early morning we reached Howrah safely but totally zapped. I am not likely to forget our X’Mas at Deoghar easily.