MUSSORIE-I

I left home at 6:45 am, which I thought was late. I had to catch the bus to Saharanpur which leaves Pipli at 7 am and Pipli is about half an hour distance from my home. I got there at 7:10 am. I asked the auto driver to rush me inside the bus stand to which he hesitated in complying. No sooner than I was going to persuade the driver I caught a glimpse of the bus waiting for the red light to turn green at the signal.  I paid for the auto and dashed towards the bus. I am used to catch the running buses, thanks to the local buses in Hyderabad. I was inside in a short while. My eyes started the scanning and scrutinizing of the bus to locate some empty and probably comfortable seat while my hands doing the handling and support work. One thing I am still confused about is whether it is the eyes or the senses that tell me (or any guy as a matter of fact) about the presence of some good looking girl in vicinity. I am sure I didn’t stare at the girl to decide that I am going to sit next to her because I wasn’t looking at her. But when I did look, I told myself, “probably morning time is not the best for romance”.

                Finally I got a seat next to a middle age woman, who throughout the journey kept asking me, “Why didn’t you sit next to that girl”. The route was familiar. The journey was blessed with heavy over-cast, dense grey clouds and cool but dusty winds. The incessant intrusion by the lady next to me in my wild thoughts made me to think, ‘why isn’t the morning time best for romance’.  The bus was crossing the dried up Yamuna about an hour and a half later. I could see the so-called perennial river reduced to narrow channels of polluted industrial wastes. But the silent screams of Yamuna have long been unheard.

                I was in Saharanpur after 20 minutes of mind boggling over the Yamuna. Each and every monument of the city spoke of its old age. Wide roads narrowed by the overwhelming crowds, vehicles and flaked by the worn-out buildings housing market places on both sides. From there I took the next bus to Dehradun at 9:30 am. The painful sounds and howlings of the bus (when it neared 30 KMPH) gave me the clear picture of roadways in UP.

                Chhutmalpur marked the beginning of change in the landscape from that of plains to the hills. The heart of the bus i.e. the engine was trying desperately hard not to upset the passengers while climbing.

                The bus reached Dehradun ISBT with clock showing 12:15 pm. Now came the hard part. There was a long queue to book tickets for Mussorie owing to the summer season with tourists flocking in from different parts of the country and abroad. And the person at the counter wouldn’t give the tickets until the bus had arrived. One bus arrived at 12:50 pm. But fortunately, by the time I reached the counter the tickets were sold out. Surprised by why I said ‘fortunately’, well here is the reason. The next bus came at 1:15 pm and I was the first person to get the ticket. So I got the very first seat to enjoy the entire journey amidst nature’s picturesque beauty.

                Mussorie is about 33 KM from Dehradun but it takes more than an hour and a half. Roads curl around the mountains like some vast snake. They were marked with steep valleys on one side and the about the same steep mountains on the other. The roads were hardly wide enough to allow two vehicles to cross. The journey brought to live some of the most beautiful sceneries of the nature.

                I reached Mussorie but it wasn’t my destination. I walked the entire Mall Road to reach Gandhi Chowk. It was about 3 KM of walk. The Mall Road was more crowded than Dehradun, shops of handicrafts were almost obscure. It were the Barista’s, CCDs, Restaurants, Modern Malls and hotels flooding the road on one side. They couldn’t use the other side of course, thanks to the valleys. Those modern amenities have left no stones upturned to destroy nature’s abode. Despair replaced the excitement on my face. But I was not to be let down and it was my love for mountains that kept me going.

                My journey from home till Gandhi Chowk cost me exactly Rs. 135 but I was supposed to pay Rs. 300 to get to Kempti from there and it was just 15 KM compared to the 175 KM till there. Despite all the bargaining, I had learnt in last two years, I couldn’t convince the taxi driver for anything less than Rs. 200. The driver dropped me on a lonely spot after about an hour and asked me to climb the mountain ahead for about a KM to reach the SIDH’s office, my destination.

                In the mid of my climb, I met a person (on bike) who turned out to be a member of SIDH. He gave me lift but he took a different route. And there I was. It was 4:15 pm. But this couldn’t be. The place was hardly inhabited. It was time for another realization. That person pointed down to some buildings in the valley which appeared like green sheets in the soil background. He said, “You have to climb down. But be careful. The passage is slippery. And please don’t try to take any short-cuts. Good luck.” I didn’t listen to him save for the last words ‘good luck’. ‘Why did he say ‘good luck’, is it really like that’. Keeping the thoughts at the back of my mind I began to descend with a fifteen KG bag on my back. But unlike other times, this time I was alone which further filled me with thrill. I was walking those so-called slippery pathways carefully. The valley down seemed to be ready to catch me in its enormous arms if I took a wrong step or showed any signs of carelessness. But I felt at home within ten minutes. I was shouting aloud to hear my echo roaring the valley.  It was ecstatic. I hoped to encounter some kind of wild animals but all I got to see were the small attractive birds of dark red and black colour. I am no poet (as my other blogger friends are) but in a poet’s words you can live your entire life in describing the marvelous beauty of those birds. I took all the dirty short-cuts I could only to find they weren’t exactly short-cuts.

                At last I reached my destination with my wrist watch showing 5:30 pm. I went to the office. I registered there. I was accompanied by the most unusual girl to the dorms. I looked around, it was about to rain with strong gusts of wind causing the not so long hair of that girl go wild. What a cocktail!! I said to myself, “perhaps this is the right time to go romantic”.