Travelogue

January 1980, chill cold had already taken over the valley into its fold. Mercury had shied and dipped down below freezing point. The sun was playing hide and seek for weeks together and so was the electricity. Chilea buchea, Chilai kalan, and Chilea budea were replacing one another as per their calendar. Schools and colleges had closed for vacations. Snowfall had blanketed all white.

The National Highway was intermittently declared closed or open on alternate dates. It is called up convoy and down convoy. People used to be attentive to the morning News bulletin to know whether it was up or down convoy.

Our house at Zainakot is connected to the National Highway by a strip of seven metres. This strip was fair-weather road. On wet days an army of neighbours used   to oblige us and push the matador in first gear up the fair weather slope.

After a long wait, I seized the opportunity when the traffic from Srinagar to Jammu was declared open on one side only. On the eve of our departure I and my associates loaded the matador carrier with provisions, gas cylinder, gas stove, bedding, clothing, folding chairs, folding table and other articles of necessity for a recess of two months.

Early morning the matador came on the road in first gear with additional manpower to supplement its horsepower. It was full to its capacity, nothing short of all eggs in one basket. My elder brother Girdhari Lal took charge of the steering. All were heavily clothed. By 11 am we reached Bijbehara where we purchased ‘kashuer maaz’ from Mamea Puej. En route we halted, declared the camp open. Spread the paraphernalia. Laid the table and cooked meat for the lunch. Folding chairs and table with green background added to the scenic beauty to the camping ground. Lunch was followed by ‘sheirie chaie’ that signaled closure of the camp. It was both leisure and pleasure drive. No fatigue.

 Next day at 3 am we reached Shastri Nagar. Until morning we stayed in the matador and after the daybreak we located our destination that was nearby adjacent to Dogra Academy.

Next week, we planned to go on pilgrimage to Derbar Sahib at Amritsar. We were joined by my sister, her husband and her sister-in-law. Girdhari Lal along with his wife and children had already left for Naya Nangal. So the steering came into my hands.  I was briefed by someone about the railway crossings en route. I was told that some railway crossings are guarded by gates and some are left unguarded. I was educated about all the risks on the Punjab Highway.

Ignorance is said to be bliss and so was I. All occupied their respective seats and I, while jumping into the driver’s seat said loudly: “Bolay so nihal” to the collective response Sat –Sriakal. Night had fallen just ahead of Lakhenpor. I concentrated only on speed to be reckoned with as an expert driver. At each invisible speed breaker the matador jumped two feet high and the passengers were thrown up and down. After the event I said sorry and assured to be extra vigilant thereafter. My brother-in-law came to the front seat to inform me about the next speed breaker in advance. In practice it was a futile exercise as

to control the high speed at such a short notice would prove fatal. All tuned their body to my omission and commission.

Somewhere en route in Punjab, I saw a number of vehicles parked on the left of the road. I did not take any serious notice of it. I thought it was some marriage party on that side. Barring these parked vehicles the road ahead wore a deserted look. All the more better to accelerate the speed further, thought I. To my surprise, from distance I saw a closed gate that reminded me of the railway crossings closed by gates. It was a horrible scene for a driver who had not made use of the reverse gear till then. Luckily I got a slot to enter and repeated “Bolay so nihal- Sat –Sriakal”. It was one of the miracles I was favoured by Guru Mahraj.

Ahead of Gurdaspur, the road was divided centrally into two parts for development. The left part was raised by earth. It was two feet higher than the right part. The right part was thrown open for two-way traffic. I had already covered 2.5 km when from the opposite direction a marriage party came face to face in an open jeep. They were all drunk. Some of them were seated on the bonnet some on the pipes for waterproof cover.

The drunk driver of the jeep directed me authoritatively for reverse.  I was followed by a truck. Coolies in the truck said that they would not reverse. They would rather sleep for the night on the raised bed of the road under construction. My requests to the drunk driver proved ineffective. He said that his jeep was without reverse gear.  Finally, I touched his feet and pleaded for mercy with folded hands. Instantaneously, he applied the reverse gear and the jeep climbed a. height of 2 ft in one go. I heaved a sigh of relief and thanked God. It was one more favour to me by the Almighty. A little ahead my brother-in-law said: “Why did you touch his feet? You are brave. I know your bravery. It is unlike your basic character.”  I said: “I am definitely brave but not a fool. What I did to escape humiliation is bravery and not cowardice. I have six family daughters and other family ladies in the matador. I can’t bank upon your might and valour or wisdom. If only one of them would be touched, it would be nothing less than death to me. Discretion is the better part of valour.

Once again ‘Bolay so Nihal SatSriakal’

Bríjû dàss chhú vanàn låsív tû båsív.