Quirky Travel Anecdotes. Always Look Before You Leap

Dear friends. You will recall that I had mentioned something about a Yamunotri trip in an earlier (as Bertie Wooster would call it), piece and which can be read here.  Am sure you all must be panting for the full episode.  Well I always aim to please, so here it is…..

As was the norm for us born in the 60s, school holidays meant a trip to the ‘native place’. So here I was in a place called Jind in Haryana plonked with my Mamaji. Jind for those who don’t know, was founded by the Pandavas who had also apparently built the Jayanti Devi temple. It is also reported that Lord Ram had passed through this hamlet during his trip for Sita’s swayamvar. Since those hey days however, Jind had transformed itself into a dust bowl and it would suffice to say that it had nothing to entice a 15 year old. So, I suggested to my father – maybe I should travel a bit? Surprisingly, the father, perhaps with the intention of broadening my spiritual horizons agreed whole heartedly and suggested a visit to Yamunotri. Now I had no idea who, what or where Yamunotri was, but it sounded exiting. And since anything would be better than Jind, I was all gung-ho about it. Matter thus settled, I started out, feeling I am sure, much like Marco Polo would have as he set down the Silk Road for destinations unknown.  I was put in a bus for Rishikesh with a princely sum of Rs 200/- in my pocket. My mamaji, being a big shot in the Haryana Road Transport Corporation arranged the ticket ‘free of cost’ and off I was, dreams of the exotic sounding Yamunotri filling my mind.

On an aside, let me explain what being a big shot in the Haryana Road Transport Corporation meant.  Years later, self and The Wife travelled to Rohtak to attend my sister’s wedding. A bus from ISBT Delhi deposited us at Rohtak Bus Station at around midnight on a cold winter evening. We stepped out of the bus to witness complete and utter misty desolation. Not a sight of anyone around. The few fellow passengers who had alighted with us vanished quickly enough. We looked around for help/rickshaw/tonga (The Wife sticking very close to me). Nothing other than two pigs richly encrusted with dried mud (and some other thing that looked suspiciously unlike mud), looking at us dreamily through a haze of flies. The Wife snuck up  to me even closer. But then just as we were contemplating our hopelessness, an angel in the shape of a burly bus conductor descended from heaven, or maybe the loo. Perhaps sensing our misery, he addressed me in the typical gruff style Jats are known for – “O chore. Ghani raat mai hade kyu khada se. Ke karan lag ryae. Kit jaana se?”.  I stammered something in my best Haryanvi of which he understood only one thing. My mamaji’s name.  And the transformation was instant. He started positively cooing. “Arreh bhai, pehle kyun na kahi… chal baith bus meh. La sundookdi manne de. Aur yo teri lugai se ke?” I assured him that yes, she was my lugai. Those of you who think that having a chauffeur driven vehicle is the ultimate luxury, imagine this scene. Bus one. Driver one. Bus conductor one. Passengers two. The bus then took off and deposited us right at my Mamaji’s doorstep after passing through many sleeping colonies. Thankfully the bus did not have a siren……..

Back to Yamunotri. Got off at Rishikesh after a longish journey, a wee bit tired cause while the Haryana Roadways buses are utilitarian, they are somewhat short on luxury. Did Gandhi said that one has not seen India till one has travelled by third class sleeper train? Well its clear to me that he never travelled by a Haryana Roadways bus. Occasionally, I can still feel the aches during winters…..

Nevertheless, saw the sights that Rishikesh has to offer in the form of ashrams, ashrams and then some more ashrams. In fact, spent the night at one. Saw the Lakshman Jhoola ad Ram Jhoola, tasted the fare at the famous Chotiwala restaurant (now 65 years old). Did not see the Chaurasia Kutia (The Beatles Ashram) as had never heard of them then. Next morning, took another bus to Janaki Chatti which is sort of a base camp for Yamunotri.  You know those buses that look like school buses one sees in English movies? Yes, one of those, but smaller. It being a longish drive the bus driver stopped at one of those ramshackle dhabas that they are so fond of. I too decided to partake of some tea and biscuits. Came out of the dhaba feeling a bit refreshed only to freeze in horror, the chai and biscuits curdling in my tummy – and I’ll tell you why. Off in the distance I could just about see my bus (with my baggage) speeding off at about 60kmph. A frenzy gripped me and I started running after the bus like one possessed, at my best speed of 12 kmph. Though well knowing it was a lost cause, I ran for about a kilometre, my mind completely taken over by despair. And please remember that this was way before cell phones. It was then that I sighted my conductor (are all of them angels?) squatting on a culvert and assiduously grinding tobacco in the palm of his hand. “Bus…. Bus…. Bus…. Mera samaan…. Bus” I wailed. He looked at me quizzically, put the wad of tobacco under his lower lip and said “Diesel bharne gaya hai. Aa jaayega thodi der mein, kaahe bhaukla rahe ho”.  You will understand my relief when I say that I almost kissed him in gratitude.

Rest of the journey was uneventful till we reached our destination.  I don’t know how it is now, but in those days, one had to trek on foot for the last 7 km or so from Janakichatti to the origin of the river Yamuna. It takes about 3 hours. And it is cold.  COLD. Resultantly, by the time one reaches Yamunotri one is tired and frozen. Now, though I tend to the agnostic philosophy in life, that day caused me, at least for the moment, to believe in God. Cause right at the summit, He had created a miracle in the shape of a hot water spring that devotees could use to soothe their aches away and warm their chilled nether regions. To me particularly, what with my nethers being close to zero degrees Kelvin, the pool created by the hot spring looked as if it was beckoning me seductively. I quickly stripped to my underwear, ran at my top speed (which you will recall is 12 kmph), and jumped into the pool. But that is when I realised that God had bestowed upon me another miracle – He had in his infinite wisdom, increased my best speed to 48 kmph (a shade better than Usain Bolt’s 44.7 kmph). Good thing that, for I was out of the pool at roughly four times the speed I had used to get in, clucking and flapping like a startled hen – much to the amusement of sundry ash smeared Sadhus, uncles and aunties. And I’ll tell you why. The water was absolutely scalding hot! God of course had not finished with me. He also taught me an important lesson that day. I think the saying, “Look Before You Leap” was coined by Him then and there, extempore, on witnessing my antics. Had I looked before leaping, I would have noticed that the Sadhus were actually cooking rice in the water in one corner – it was that hot!

Suffice to say that the walk back from Yamunotri was an uncomfortable one, what with a few blisters in strategic places over my hitherto alabaster skin, making every step an agony…….

And that ladies and gentlemen was my Yamunotri sojourn. Never been there again.