company in east india - part V

Three states and four cities, the span of what today was going to be. Were ready by 7 as planned and went down to the restaurant for breakfast. The same routine, we ordered masala omelets with cheese and mushroom and the waiter amusingly obliged. Gregory was there on time and we started out by 7.15.

A meandering not so hilly drive with a brilliant view of the countryside was on offer (of course I could not resist stealing a nap) and we cruised along at a steady pace. Little villages and hamlets kept appearing on the sides with neat signage – “Mawpen village”. The hutments looked straight out of a coloring book, extremely picturesque and very tidy. Like S said, even the clothes hanging on the lines outside had a great deal of symmetry to them. Just as we were nearing Sohra (the local name for Chirapunji) S threw up again, it was the omelet she informed and it was decided that on the way back she would sit in the front seat, next to the driver (Gregory) to minimize the effect of motion sickness. We did not waste too much time, bought a bottle of water and parked the car near an old fashioned church and started the march towards the caves.

You have to have been inside a cave to know what it’s all about. It is unlike anything I had ever experienced before. The caves are an authority unto themselves with their own laws and quirks. Gregory had brought us to one of the amateur level cave and he hadn’t been around here for a while, so we had to scout around a bit to figure out the entrance. Once there, he unpacked the kit which contained an overall (dungaree), helmets and a carbide cylinder (for the flame on the helmet) and we got prepared for action.

The entrance was a pile of gravel which appeared quite steep and I started the descent thinking that just incase I loose balance I’ll slide down without much damage. Ten meters into the cave and the definition of pitch dark altered forever. There was a trace of a stream along the path and the initial five minutes were spent walking pretty much straight avoiding the water areas. The cave had now started revealing glimpses of fear and death, a little hillock had to be conquered and this was followed by a sharp knee bend onto a large slope. Once aboard the deck of that slope we had to take an almost 4 meter high jump to reach a little clearing beyond which we had no clue what existed. Gregory was leading the way and managed that jump easily, S was reluctant and used a safety rope and I followed with complete awareness without the rope. Half a foot above the clearing we could see a large cavity about three ft wide, Gregory slipped through it with ease and S attempted to follow, tried and then gave up. Her head lamp had extinguished, she had pressed the pipe connecting the lamp to the carbide cylinder. Gregory took of his helmet and used its flame to reignite the lamp then again slid up, S attempted and gave up. We had three hours to our chopper departure, and with the pace we were at we decided it was time to retreat. The descent was a little easy as we knew what awaited us in the darkness and (the image of the first rays of sunlight striking us is still vivid) that little pile of rubble at the entrance which had initially looked scary and steep was now a cakewalk!

On the way back we took a little break in a shack in Sohra market. S’s last attempt at discovering local cuisine resulted in a plate of coarse rice and some boiled potato. The ride back was equally splendid and sitting on the back seat this time indulged in sleep to my heart’s content. We arrived at the air base well in time, paid and thanked Gregory and went in. The guard informed that the chopper had not yet arrived and was late so we kept our baggage in his sentry room and went for a stroll; he was the most cheerful guard I have ever seen on duty. We reached the airforce museum nearby and went in for a quick dekho. It was a motley assemblage and what stood out was the biography of Arjan Singh, some (more) mannequin-ish entities and the skin of a python (who had swallowed a deer) on display. Came back to the base camp and waited patiently chit chatting and catching up on old times (Mr. Das called in the middle to discuss some job offers that he had received).

Swift is the one word which captures the essence of what happened next. The chopper descended, all conversation ceased, a man came running and took our ticket foils, a woman went running to the chopper, a pilot stepped out and stretched, we were signaled to come over, a man took my suitcase and put it in (for lack of a proper word) the chopper boot, I was signaled to sit in, S followed, an uncle-ji boarded on the seat behind us, a woman came running and got some papers signed, someone shut the door, we began flying.

An intimidating display panel and an old box of candies, these are the first images that come to mind. The pilots kept chatting trough their headgear and the landscape started dwarfing out. We tried clicking a few pictures but the batteries were dead. Landed in Guwahati shortly, took out the luggage from the boot and tried thanking the pilots who were busy talking animatedly. Tried locating the Indian Airline counter from inside the port, but realized that we needed to step out.

The next Indian Airline flight was at 7 in the evening (according to what we had researched on the net it should have been at 16:00) and as our bookings (the planned departure was on Friday by Indian Airlines) were on this airline we wanted to replace/reschedule them with today. This was quite a situation; we were terribly hungry, tired and sleepy. Tried calling the travel website through which we had booked (yatra) but all their lines were constantly busy, S even braved standing in the local pay phone booth queue to attempt calling (with 2 super irritating and over smart men, one who was making some random small talk on the call, blissfully ignoring the queue behind him and the other who tried breaking the queue with all innocence). With luck refusing to rescue us we got fresh booking for a Kingfisher flight scheduled to depart at 4. A contributing factor for getting the new reservations was that we were horribly hungry and the only food available was inside the port lounge, which could be accessed only with a valid travel ticket!

It was bliss to be inside. S bravely entered the lone café and returned triumphed with a sandwich and a big tumbler of cold coffee. We munched away and followed this by a round of idlis and a pack of cheetos. Moved on to check in our luggage and proceeded to board. There was a long queue at the security check and once trough, we waited in the lounge. The flight on bang on time and S’s distant cousin who we had managed to escape on the ‘to’ flight had caught up with us on the ‘from’. Things were a little messy now, but as luck would have it we had managed the emergency exits once again and were in the middle while the cousin was serving at the rear. The flight was small and we managed to watch a bit of Kuknoor’s latest flick (disappointing) blended with vignettes from the great Indian laughter challenge.

Calcutta airport was in a mess when we arrived. The unions had gone on an indefinite strike, protesting against the drive to privatize airports (Bangalore and Hyderabad) and basic services had been badly affected. Quickly transferred some stuff from my suitcase to S’s bag and took a pre-paid voucher for salt lake. Once out of the airport we could see the union members sitting in agitation and a leader giving a motivated speech in Bengali. This seemed more like the Calcutta I had in mind.

The cab driver refused to go on till Alipur after dropping S, this meant that I had to get off at salt lake and take another cab home. The ride back home was long but the weather was really kind and I was asleep most of the way. It was nice to be back in 12A, had a nice cup of chai and surfed the net waiting for Gujju to return.

Today happened to be Varun’s dad’s birthday and Gujju and aunty insisted that I come along. It was going to be a small family affair and I was more than happy to be invited. Had a quick shower and got ready to move.

Pappu uncle is quite a rock star and it was a pleasure meeting him. Scotch was served and I indulged, Chaaya aunty (his wife) played the perfect host with a stream of starters – some fish, paneer, more fish, and prawns. Varun, Gujju and me moved out onto the terrace and recalled Sunday evening, suddenly it all seemed so distant, and it was as if I had been in this city forever. Went out to park street for dinner, tried flavors but they were shutting down so settled for Mocambo.

Gujju insisted that I eat crab meat and it was one of the best recommendations I have ever received from him (except for that other one which he gave under the tree at chota over a cup of lemon tea, two years ago). The main course was a steak called ‘surf n turf’ which had a beef steak topped with prawns. I was super stuffed at this stage and made did with the turf, dexterously avoiding the surf. A round of tutti fruity ice cream followed and I was yearning to hit the bed, the evening came to a close, good byes were said and we headed back to Alipur. I had to reach Howrah station early next morning and dozed off quickly, Gujju tried intervening and there was some conversation which I cannot recollect at all now. Tomorrow we were heading to Shantiniketan.