Pigeons , Come Back...

Twenty Eight Years Later

2011-04-02T23:43:00.000-07:00

I am glad that probably some , if not all the players have read my post about last world cup victory. I am not sure how many of them were even born by that time. Even if they were born, most of them were too infant to be inspired by that victory.

The point is, this victory stands on its own. The players found their own way to the glory. To me, it looked almost ten years of constant journey. The path was shown by Dada. Sehwag, Yuvraj, Zaheer, Harbhajan and to some extent, Dhoni and Gambhir too – were spotted and encouraged by Dada … Encouraged to fight, encouraged to believe in themselves , encourage to not only meet the challenges but to throw the challenges across. I wish that Rahul Dravid , Laxman and Kumble should be the part of the team – just like Tendulkar. But no, we never missed them .These young guys stood up to the occasion. Look at the report card of the team. Every one contributed. If some one failed, others rushed in to plug the gap. That was precisely what had happened in Final. The team does not depend on Tendulkar only , unlike it used to do in mid and late nineties. So what if Sehwag was out in just second ball ! It was pity to see that guys like Pathan and Ashwin, who did not do any bad for whatever chances they got, were sitting on benches. Hopefully , that will enhance their hunger to do well.

Now, just a world of caution – please keep your feet on the ground. Still there are a lot of grey areas. Batting can not always hide the shortcoming of bowling. Fielding is still pretty ordinary. Running between wickets requires improvement. Team needs to learn how to handle batting power play – both while bowling and batting.

Now, Gary Kirsten will not be around. Most probably, BCCI will rope Fleming for the coaching assignment.

But let us hope Tendulkar with us forever. At least, till he completes tweny five thousand runs in both the form of Cricket.

The Classic Case of Brotherhood

2011-04-02T00:33:00.000-07:00

I have never seen such a match – that too –that too at a prestigious World Cup – that too – at knockout level – at such a high level of knockout when the distance between cup and lips are hardly one match away.

Both the teams were desperately trying to lose the match.The whole world, including their Prime Ministers were witness to that.

Let us begin from the team selection.

India picked Ashish Nehra at the cost of Ashwin.It was not Ashwin’s fault. He got two matches and he did well.No one was talking about Nehra. All they were thinking about Munaf, whether he should be iven another chance for the sake of winning combination or should pave the way for Y Pathan or Sree Santh. No one expected that the axe would fall on Ashwin.

How about Pakistan ? Everyone knew that just the presence of Shoaib Akhtar was enough to make Indian batsmen jittery .That too, when except Sachin and to some extent Sehwag with effective upper cuts no one in the tp order of Indian batting had answer for fast, short balls.But he was not in the team.

The height of the brotherhood was, Sachin kept on giving the chances and Pakistani were just dropping them. He is such a great batsman that even one reprive is enough for opposition to sweat, then why he kept on obliging them ? And they kept on humbly refusing his respectful offerings?

If you got a chance to look into any text commentary , you will find that Indian innings will full of two contradictory term- “almost” and “dropped (missed)”.

Some sample –

..” Saeed Ajmal to Raina, no run, confusion in the running! Raina chops to point, both batsmen set off, stop, look at each other, run again and the stop mid-pitch ... Raina turns and is back just in time! The is nervous stuff “

Mohammad Hafeez to Dhoni, no run, a weak walk across and he stabs this one way to the off. Very edgy

Mohammad Hafeez to Kohli, no run, Almost caught and bowled! Kohli was beaten in the flight and that bottom-hand took over completely as he went for the drive. He mistimed the ball back in the air but it falls short of the bowler

Lovely stuff from Hafeez! Beaten in flight and stumped! Gambhir went down the track but couldn't reach the pitch of the ball. Panic. He then tried to stab the ball away but is now beaten by the turn. More panic. The ball has gone past him and he looks back, trying to get back but no luck. Kamran whips off the bails. India two down.

When Pakistan Innings started,they kept on paying the respect to Munaf and Ashish. Patel even bowled a maiden over.

All the batsmen showed their trademark brilliance and then went into the shell.Pakistan opted for batting power play after 45 overs when 8 wickets were down.

In the post match conference, Dhoni admitted that he read the wicket wrong. Tendulkar confirmed that never in his Cricketing life, he got that many number of lives in one match. Afridi confessed that they played irresponsible shots. Everything was drown in wild jubilation.

The Arduous Train Voyages and Sindbad IV

2011-01-31T00:54:00.000-08:00

Voyage Two – World Cup on Wheels – Part 3

Who wants his name to be tossed in sizzling cauldron of scandal and to be fried with spices of rumours, leg pulling, and ridicules?
Me ? No way.Please.. In my street, I was measured as a straight boy. More than the image conscious, I was shy, yes, painfully shy. And surely, it would be talk of the street if I even thought of doing so.You know, there were different face readers, mind readers, heart readers moving around in those days with magnifying glass in hand. Probably, it would cross the boundary of the street and might fill the whole sector. No, I won't do it. I would be content with my transistor.What was amiss with the radio commentary? All my
friends were doing the same thing, i.e., "listening"rather than "watching and listening". And just to watchthe match , why should I go to 'her' house ?

'Her'? 'Her'?? Ok, ok, stop sniffing like bull dog.Please stop scratching your claws on floor. I'll tell you everything. Believe me. Please ...Please don't show me the teeth... and no, don't jump on me .I would tell you whatever you hanker after...

You demand to know who was 'she'? She was a girl. My classmate in primary school and my sister's fast friend.
Was she beautiful ? Beautiful ?? She was stunningly beautiful. Probably the most orgeous girl in the whole sector. To add 'Ghee' in fire, her younger sister was more dazzling. Almost three times, if I endeavor to quantify and compare an intangible entity known as beauty.
Let us throw spotlight on the problem. They were the only family in the street 22 of sector 2, Bhilai which had TV
.Yes, those sisters did not have any brother, otherwise, things were uncomplicated for me and my friends. That implied that my sister could go and watch the match if she wished (but she was not interested) ,but I could not.
Guys, I was talking about one day of June of 1983 -almost twenty five years back. No sir, No way I could go to the twin tower's house to watch the match and hand over the tin of red Asian Paints on platter to my friends. My transistor was good enough to listen the blow by blow account of trashing of India in the hands of Lloyd and company.
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You can investigate, open the old log books, collect the data, sample and analyse it by any tools. It is my claim that June 25 1983 is the date of birth of most of the black and white TV. "Date of Birth" does not mean the date of manufacturing. That implies, when a TV, wrapped in brown box, carried in open van and rickshaw, passes through the barrage of envious eyes of neighbours and reaches to the proud owner's drawing room.

Well, TV might be not rare in Delhi or surrounding areas. But for a township like Bhilai, where only limited National Network Programs were showed up and rest of the little time was devoted to variety of local program, the necessity of TV was never felt till then.

By the way, let me clarify.My claim was for black and white TV. That might not be true for colour TV.In India, mostly, the first TV was ipso facto black and white, which on some later date was replaced by colour television. And those, who directly purchased color television were not fervent sports aficionado like Godamkar uncle.

Godamkar uncle's son , Rajnish, was my good friend.Ironically, Godamkar uncle was next door neighbour of the only TV owner in the street.

On June 25 morning, I was chit-chatting with Rajnish ,standing at his gate.A rickshaw entered the street.Yes,it was the TV.In front of that, Godamkar uncle was coming on bicycle. He was directing the rickshaw wala to the house.On the rickshaw, a delivery man was sitting ,holding the TV box carefully.It should not be jolted.Otherwise, some component inside could be disturbed.
"TV aaya re".Some of my friends, watching from their window, shouted.They came out running, to find out, whose door that rickshaw was going to stop.The TV reached to Godamkar uncle's drawing room and unpacked.
Wow, it was Phillips.
"I thought if I have to buy, then buy the quality one."Godamkar uncle was boasting.

And the TV delivery boy ?He was desperate.to sell his expertise.
"Sir, just hundred. Give me hundred.I'll do all the fittings."
"You can go now." Godamkar uncle raised his fingers towards gate.
"Ok sir, just seventy five.... I'll do everything.Fitting, Antena adjustment, Color, contrast -all the settings. Give me seventy five. All included"
"I said your work is over.Well done.You must leave now."Godamkar uncle was scanning through the manual.
"Ok sir, just fifty....Last ....Just listen to me .You know if your adjustment is not correct, you would always get hazy,dancing picture and will suffer headache and swelling eyes and likely to visit to doctor.Just fifty sir.You have spent thousands in purchasing the elephant. Just spend fifty for a peg to tie it. You know, TV is a delicate item.You do the wrong fitting and picture tube will blow up"
"Enough.Do you know whom you are trying to fool ?" He indicated me , "See, he is an engineer. I am a Chargeman, dealing with a lots of machine daily.Understand you
delivery man ? If you want" He pulled out a five rupee crumpled note from his pocket, "take this and have some sweets."

Minutes later, me and Rajneesh went to the roof, fixed the antenna. Then we kept on slowly rotating the mast and constantly asking ,"Uncle, is it clear now ? Should we
rotate a little more ? What, the earlier position was better ? Ok, now , we are rotating slowly..."
Till then, the sole TV owner of TV, the Divisional Engineer , was strolling in his garden and watching with bemused and envious eyes, the disintegrating of his monopoly
, hammered by his own neighbor.
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Want to listen the fascinating story of three contingent of supporters ? There you go ...

West Indian supporters knew long back that their team would eventually play in the Final. They had purchased the tickets month back and just waiting for the big day, oiling and tightening their musical instruments,keeping their best beer in refrigerator, ready for the day. They were pretty relaxed while walking idly to the stadium..

England supporters were crestfallen. They also had bought the ticket in the anticipation that England would reach to the Final. If not England, they would settle for Australia West Indies grand Final. When "Dev's Devils"brought wind out of England campaign in semis, first they pillaried the groundsman. Then they professed that the Final between West Indies and India "would be a crashing bore'. The stupefying result deflated English ego but what to say about their certitude? So, those, who bought tickets in advance, were standing near stadium and reselling their tickets at much discounted prices.

And Indians ? Not many had bought the tickets in advance. Many of them even reached near the stadium in the hope of getting tickets from sky or somewhere. When they heard of the story that lot many Englishmen were selling their tickets near the stadium, they thronged there in large number and virtually snatched the tickets from their hands. Many of them even tried to coax and persuade to other Englishmen near the gate to sell their ticket and go to the bar instead for better merriment.
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All these things were not shown on Rajneesh's
television. The thing , which displayed on the screen , was, it seemed to be a green pitch .(Don't ask me, how could I make it out in black and white TV.The commentator said
and I believed it.).
The impetus was with Indian team, but in front of them, it was insurmountable West Indies.
West Indies won the toss and elected to field first. That was a tradition in those days when strong team won the toss. That way, they could finish the match early and go for their celebration.Otherwise, just imagine what would happen if the weak team, batting second, would not try to win and play the complete sixty overs !
Lloyd had applied all their best bowlers for the match – Roberts, Holding, Garner and Marshall.All of tem were capable of opening the bowling.From India’s side, Gavaskar and Srikkanth opened the innings.
Gavaskar facing Roberts.First run cam in the form of misfield at squareleg.India opened the account.
There, I saw, the predicament of Gavaskar.Roberts and Garner started the bowling for West Indies.Both were fast, fiery fast… Technically correct batsman he was, Gavaskar was just leaving outside the off stump balls.He blocked the incoming delivery.He was beaten sometimes.In that process, he scored just two runs in two overs.
“Don’t worry.” Godamkar uncle assure us.”He will just see these bowlers through then he will open up.”
But uncle, when those bowlers stop, another two fearsome bowlers, Marshall and Holding were just waiting and etching theirfury.If he kept on ‘seeing’ those bowlers, then 48 overs would be consumed just like that.
That was the third over.It reminded me his infamous 36 not out in 60 overs in very first match of the world cup, which India played in 1975.Probably, Gavaskar was also feeling the heat.He waved his bat for an outgoing delivery.Dujon tossed the ball in air in delight and it was all over for him.
That was really pity to see him going back to the pavilion .He started his carrer against the West Indian in 1971.That time, he emerged as nemesis for West Indian. Now, after twelve years, West Indians were not even celebrating his dismissals as they should have.
Baba Mohinder Amarnath came to the crease.
The battle of Srikkanth and Roberts was the interesting one.
If you were watching the match on TV, even after almost twenty five years, you must remember the “fast and faster bouncer.”
Srikkanth was handling rough with smooth handle. He was fearless in driving , cutting and pulling.The score board was ticking on nicely. Godamkar uncle , cutting ‘supari’ with ‘sarouta’ preparing pan after pan, chewing it , kept on appreciating Srikkanth batting,”Wah Wah”.
West Indian fast bowlers , always etching to pepper such a batsman, resorted to short deliveries.Roberts sent a bouncer to Srikkanth coolly took the position and hammered it for four.Indian crowd went berserk.
Commentator was calm.He informed to the world the great secrete,”Actually, Roberts has two bouncers.One quick and another, quicker one.The one he just sent down was former.”That thrilled everyone.We all sitting on the edge of sofa watching on the TV, showing two men out on the fence in anticipation.We knew what was going to follow the “quick” bouncer. Roberts started his run up, speed increased , reached to the crease and here came the quicker one.It even puzzled Srikkanth and he pulled forehead level ball for a six !The stadium erupted with deafening noise.
“I think, Roberts has three bouncer.Quick, Qicker , Quikest.” It was Godamkar uncle’s comment.”Just wait and see the quickest one is coming and it will land outside of the stadium.”
No, the quickest one never came.But Srikkanth was not quiet.He went on one knee and smashed the bowler through square leg for another four.
On the other side, there was Baba Mohinder Amarnath.Always calm , but effective.West Indian bowlers unleashed the fury on him.The faster they came and short pitched, Mohinder coolly hammered and milked easily.
Suddenly, against the run of the play, Srikkanth got out.Marshall got him LBW.
Morose Godamkar uncle muttered,”Why they have LBW rules when nothing is clear?” He asked me,”How can you tell that the ball will hit the stump ?If ball is swinging, it can go over the stump or miss the off stump.How can an umpire judge it standing twenty two yards away ? absolutely rubbish rule.”
Yeshpal Sharma joined Mohinder and both were playing nicely.Suddenly , just before lunch , match took an unexpected turn.First, “the silent death” Holding (the nickname was given , because when he was running on his runup, his footsteps were never heard by even the umpire and non striker batsman).consumed Amarnath.And the part time, innocuous looking Larry Gomes, snubbed Yashpal Sharma.The scoreboard was reading 100 for four.It was lunch and I would like to go home, just fr a break.

"We have to go the cloth shop." Babuji announced,"We need to give some clothes t be stitched for you."
"I have sufficient Babuji." I said,"I don't need any new clothes."
"No, you don't.You are in engineering college now. Not in the school anymore. You should dress properly."
"Can we go tomorrow?" I reluctantly asked.
"We are going NOW. No tomorrow or the day after.Do I need to get ‘Muhurt’for that ?" He asked.
I was speechless.
"Ok, tell me, what important work you are doing ?"
Again I was speechless.
"Do you think lightening struck twice at the same place? Do you think everyday is Sunday ? Do you think you can cook twice in the same wooden pot ?" He declared,"No, be realistic.India is not going to beat West Indies twice.That happened once and you guys should be content and proud and satisfied with that.No, nothing against Kapil and his team. They have done tremendous job. But be realistic and get back to the business."
I still did not say anything.
"Come on.We are not going to spend the whole day in the shop.We will buy the cloth, you give the measurement and then we are back."
But going out with Babuji was never as simple as he thought. Even though, we went to Sector Six market, which was a little away from our sector, but every now and then, someone or other would say,"Are Thakur saab." And they would shake hands , chitchat and then Babuji would say, "Aur Doctor saab, baki sab thik?".The we we would go about ten steps and another fellow would bump into,"Are Thakur saab.Aaj yahan kahan?" My patience was waning. After we bought the clothes from "DCM Cloth centre" and I stood up in front of tailor for my measurement, I had a sigh of relief.Now, I could go back to my 'business'.
But suddenly another shop keeper bumped into 'Thakur saab'.He happened to Babujis school friend.He dragged Babuji to his shop and ordered the 'sharbat'. And there, I sneaked away stealthily. I know Babuji wuld not care or mind or be anxious for me. After all, I was not a kid .I have spent so many years in those bazaar and streets.I won't be lost.

That was a TV shop. The shopkeeper had kept half a dozen of black and white and two colour TV on display - different brand, different sizes.But in all those screens, I saw half a dozens Marshall(s) were coming on their run up, but whom they were bowling to ? They were bowling to half a dozen respective Madanlal(s).Madanlal ? I looked closely to each of the screensYes, Madanlal was playing.What happened to other players ?.It was rather shocking.Patil, Kapil, Kirti Azad , Binny all gone ?

Who was playing ? Madanalal and Kirmani… What was the score ? Over ended and score board appeared…..155/8 .I tried to read score board but it looked so full. Patil made 27 with no four but one six.It seemed he just got out.
“After the Zimbabwe match, we always thought Kapil will play .But he flattered to deceive” someone commented. The crowd, which was watching the match was getting impatient and irritated .Slowly, it was thinning and vapourising .”Apna kaam karo yaar.Aaj to vaise bhi harna tha.” Another commented. Kapil made 15 in 8 balls with three fours. But was that not the way he always played? Why to blame him? Kirti Azad made zero and Roger Binny made two.
All of a sudden, mosquitoes attacked on the TV , I mean all the TVs.The dealer came out, watched the screen, immediately call the mechanic th check up the antenna. Suddenly message appeared on the screen,”Rukavat ke liye khed hai.Sorry for interruption.”
As such , the dealer was irritated, since India was doing badly.Now, it irritated him further.He howled to the crowd,”Why are you crowding here ? Are you interested to buy the TV ? If yes, please step inside.If no, then please excuse us and go back to your business.”
And the crowd disappeared in a jiffy as if it was never there. Suddenly someone tapped me from behind.It was Babuji.
In those days, when you bought a TV, and it was an occasion , like the match , you expected a lot of guests in the house.
I again went to Rajneesh’s house and saw the guests coming, discussing about the match.When they came to know that India just scored 183, they shook hands with uncle and asked permission to leave.Godamkar uncle was full of confident.Are baithiye abhi.Kya hua 183 hai to?Abhi unke bhi giraate hain…bas do overs to dekh kar jaiye.”
It was an innings break.Thanks to some stubborn batting for last last wicket by Sandhu and Kirmani, India scored 183.The extra of 20 runs was forth highest , after Srikkanth(38), Patil(27) and Mohinder (26).
With so many visitors at the innings break , only one visitor accepted Godamkar uncle’s request of ‘two overs’.
What happened in two overs ?
Kapil picked up the ball. Hey , just look at the field. Just see, how many fielders were stationed at attacking position vis-a-vis those, who were marshalling the boundary ?That was really amazing that Kapil set up attacking fields right from the beginning. His intention was clear. India did not have enough runs on the board to defend. It could win the match only by attack. It had nothing to lose.and fielders ? Just see their body language ? No shoulder dropping, no disappointment on the face.They were all brimming with energy.
Kapil started the over.Greeneidge took a single and Heyens deposited the ball to cover boundary….Four runs…No problem.Five without loss…
Out of Godamkar uncle’s requested quota of two overs, fifty percent had gone without any significant happeneing. Sandhu started his first over.
There came the “Banana ball”, the most precious delivery Sandhu delivered in his whole Cricketing career.
Greeidge was cool.There were plenty of overs spared to get meager 183.No need to panic. He did the right thing to shoulder arms for a delivery started a foot and a half from outside the off stump, As if it was a guided missile , it swung late and strike top of the off stump.
Unbelieveable…..Gadamkar uncle was ecstatic. We were all thrilled Greenidge was out. I could still remember the replay and after that Kapil marshalling his men and arranging the field for the newcomer who, for those who don’t know him , was ‘Gabbar Singh’ of West Indian batting line up.

Yes sir, I am not joking. His on field aura was so menacing and frightening that it could match only with Gabbar Singh. Always unshaved, chewing gum, twirling the bat, head slightly inclined, looking at the bowler with utmost disdain. How many times we had seen him with baited breath in those years? He never tried to or had to throw his weight around, as he straightway occupied the centre stage whenever he came out of the hut.
He was maverick, mercurial Vivian Richards.
It took just one ball to show his intention. That ball was dispatched to midwicket for four.
“He was playing like that he wanted to finish the match in thirty overs .” Kapil had said that in post match conference, Even if he did not say, anyone could judge his intentions .Next over from Kapil Dev, he hammered another two boundaries.
Suddenly, once again mosquitoes attacked the TV.
Godamkar uncle was puzzled.He asked Rajneesh,”Go and check the antenna.”
It was dark.Me and Rajneesh climbed to the roof in jiffy. Suddenly Godamkar uncle called us, “Come down.It is again linkage failure.”
We came down.The announcer was showing regrets.
As such, it was 8-40 and news time.The spinning globe was appearing on screen.
I rushed to home. That was the last time, I saw the final match on TV.
It was Madanlal’s over when Richards hit three fours in succession.
There was a small cabin in the courtyard where I locked myself. The study table, on which I spent many hours solving the sums of Co Ordinate Geometry and Trigonometry in school days, I kept the transistor and was listening the happening on the Lord’s ground. Madanlal was bowling to Richards. The same Madanlal, for which Richards had commented few days back, ”The way he ran and jump, I thought I’ll face the searing pace of Holding or Garner. But I have to wait for his ball..”
First ball, Richards smashed it through Mid Wicket for four runs.
I thought I heard a tap on the door.
Sister was calling me for the dinner, ”Everyone is waiting .”She said.

‘Everyone’ meant, Babuji and my elder brother, who was in Jabalpur Engineering College.
Going for a dinner had some process attached to that I had to wash hands and legs, wipe them with towel and then go and join them.I got up from the chair, locked the door of the cabin.
Rchards pulled Madanlal over Sqaure Leg for another four..
I went to the bathroom, I was washing my legs .Damn, Richards drove another ball through extra cover and it was another four.

In those days, we did not have anything like dining table. There was a dining space. We had to sit on a very low wooden seat, barely three inches above the ground. As a classical Indian gentle man, we had to sit on it cross legged. The transistor was kept in the middle.
Dinner also meant that you could not listen to ‘Binaca Geet Mala’ or any program other than the news. It was prime time news time – 8:45 (Paune Nou).Babuji wanted to listen and made us listen nothing but ‘Akashwani’ news, both Hindi and English. But that day, still I kept the B.B.C. commentary on. I was getting irritated and it was an act of rebellion –‘Sarfaroshi Ki Tamanna’ however symbolic it might be I wanted to keep the commentary on till last moment.But God, please. Richards should not hit another boundary.
God not only obliged my prayer but did something more which change the mood of everyone.
We started the dinner. The moment I broke the first Roti , Hayenes got out.
For a moment, I thought, God, let the commentator amend his mistakes and tell us , it was Richards. But no, Indians got the wrong man out. Anyway, wicket was a wicket – significantly, it came as against the run of the play. The scoreboard had already touched fifty in no time.
Well, God was just smiling ! The turn of Richards also came in a space of two overs. .
New comer Lloyd pulled up the muscle and just out Haynes was summoned to run for him.
Richards lifted the ball over Mid Wicket. Commentator was describing that Patil was running from Square Leg.Before he could reach the ball.The ball hang in the air, not to touch the ground. And the commentator shouted,”Richards out.Caught Kapil Dev bowled Madanlal.”
I was jubilant. Everyone was excited. Everyone was trying to be calm and hide the emotion.Remember, we were at dinner table.But where did Kapil come from ? Commentator was telling Patil ran from Square leg? Even if you see the replay of the catch today, Kapil came from Widish mid on and would not be in frame till the last moment.
Ironically, Richards was calling for two runs to Hayenes who was running for Lloyd. He might have anticipated that the ball would not go to boundary , but he never thought that Kapil would pluck it off from thin air.

Anyway, I was so thrilled that like an obedient boy I picked up the transistor , changed the band and trying to find Akashwaani Raipur.
Babuji said,”It is ok.Just let me listen to the headlines. Then you guys can continue with commentary.”
It was just two minutes to nine. Devki Nanadan Pandey,the news reader ,in his booming voice, told us the weather report, “Garaj ke saath chhinte” and then announced,”Ant main mukhya samachar ek baar fir…”…And hello, what had happened! Normally, the sports news in headlines were either omitted or told as forth and last head lines. That day, just getting out of Richards made him to rearrange the news order and sports news – yes, in those days, Cricket was just a sports – jumped into two notched up and read as a second headlines.
After that, it was six time “Tuk, Tuk Tuk” and English news started. Khamala Singh ( or Kamla Singh or Gamala Singh, sorry, I would never know her name) started the news and yes, sports news was at second slot.
“Enough”, surprisingly, it came from Babuji, “Go back to B.B.C.”
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And it seemed that our dinner had charmed to tilt the balance of luck in favor of India.
The wicket of Richards galvanized the despondent Indian team..They were pouncing on the ball.Lloyd had pulled his groin muscles and he was playing with a runner.Suddenly Indians chocked all the outlets of run flow and Madan and Binny, with their constrained talent as compare to flamboyance of West Indian bowlers, bound both the batsmen. On the other hand, West Indians tottered , lurched , staggered ,wobbled at that hour West Indies had to suffer further smack of intrigue. The tension mounted to such a magnitude that the person, having ocean like patience , Gomes, poked the ball outside the off stump and Gavaskar accepted the catch with a infinite gratitude.

The agony of Lloyd came to an end. His foot work were frozen due to cramp..He charged Roger Binny's ball through the extra cover and Kapil picked a straightforward catch.Both the wickets fell on 66
.Slowly, India clawed his way back to the match.
More drama to be unfolded.....
I never ate such a delicious dinner in my entire Life. I mean,how many times to you have the best batsmen of the mightiest team to be part of your repast ? I wanted it to last as long as possible. Others were about to finish and I was barely half way through. I had to catch up...But listen ... wait..Dujon was almost run out by a direct throw from Srikkanth , but umpire thought otherwise. There were no third umpires to be referred in those days , otherwise he was in deep trouble. I was hurriedly gulping , then suddenly Baccus was out.Oh boy, they were not allowing me to finish my dinner.This time, it was Sandhu's turn to strike. Baccus tried to slash a widish delivery and Kirmani took the catch almost in front of first slip.
The World champions were slumped to 76 for six.
Voice of America might be regretting at that time, since , when Richards was playing, moved by sheer anticipation, they had already declared West Indies winning the World Cup third consecutive time.

"Where are you lost ? Finish your dinner fast. You believe that if you stay here for sometimes more India is going to win the match ?Are you dreaming that you are bowling for India from dinning space and responsible for all the dismissal in this half an hour? Nice lessons from Engineering college..."It was difficult to conceal your intentions from Babuji.
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Really, if you followed the match that night -you know,my good luck charm was left at the dinning place. West Indies kept on nudging the runs, here and there.Marshall and Dujon, both were playing coolly. To my disappointment, Dujon pulled Sandhu's
ball for a six. They crossed hundred mark.The partnership was crystallizing in some menacing shape.The unfinished task, which were to be accomplished by Richards,
Greenidge and Lloyd, were being done by Marshall and Dujon.I could understand the psyche of Marshall He was so sure of winning the cup that during the innings break, he
had even booked a new BMW for himself.He was making it sure that he had money to fill up the gas in his new BMW.
I was alone, sitting at the porch of the house. All other family members were asleep. I was just looking down the street. The two TV owner neighbours were still awake.I could see their drawing room light wavering.That was - tube lights fused with TV light.That means, transmission had resumed.However, I did not have any desire to go back to Rajneesh house .
The match was slipping away slowly from India's grasp. Marshall and Dujon were inching towards a victory, which , to my opinion, did not come automatically to them.They had to earn it.
But wait .... Shhhhhh ...
Oh yes.I could hear loud shout on Godamkar uncle's TV and in next second, radio commentators confirmed it.
Dujon was bowled by Amarnath. Yes, it was innocuous looking inswinger from Mohinder.Dujon shouldered arms.The ball hit the gloves and the hit the stump.
Thank God for the seventh wicket.
And in a space of one over, Amarnath claimed Marshal also. Gavaskar made his presence felt.He held the catch at slip.
No, now I decided not to change my sitting posture. Mosquitoes were feasting on my blood and I had to get up and adjust the position of the chair. But no, I would not get up and do anything which could disturb the god luck charm of India.

And Kapil's ball rapped on Roberts pad. Kapil jumped into the air, appealed and umpire endorsed. Roberts was LBW.
India was just one wicket away from the victory. Kapil was impatient to claim the wicket. But Garner and Holding hold the fort valiantly like last brave soldiers. Kapil applied Madan and Binny also.But those two survived and pushed the score nicely.The runs put by India on the scoreboard was so inadequate that even a small partnership like that looked intimidating. Madan even finished his quota and hence,bowling assignment of the Third World Cup.
Kapil called back Mohinder again.
The ball rapped on the pad and all of a sudden, all the lights were on. Those , who were listening the commentary , were on the streets.
It was simply amazing.Ten minutes back, the street was sleeping like a ghost.Now it looked like the night of Holi.I could hear the drum beats and shouting from distant and
near.No, probably, it was Deewali. I did not know, how the guys had acquired the fire crackers in June and from where. But all those questions were irrelevant.I was still listening the commentary.Suddenly Babuji came, half in the sleep.
"What is this noise ? Halla Gulla ? " He asked.
"India has won the World Cup." I announced.
"Oh Really ? Kapil and his team did it.Fantastic.",He was happy, "So these guys are celebrating. I got it. But what are you doing ?"He asked.
"Listening."
"Listening what ?"
"Comentory." I replied.
"But you said India won it. I thought the match was over."
"Yes, it is over. I am just listening the score card" I said.
"Do you think that the scorecard will change overnight?" He asked.
"No."
"Is it fixed in time ?" He wanted to make it sure.
"Yes , I think so."
"Then switch off the transistor, come inside and sleep.You can read score card tomorrow in news paper.Nothing is going to change runs,scored,fall of the wicket, bowling analysis .... No body will dare to touch it.... come and sleep. By the way, you were following the match whole day , still you need score card to be read..."
===============================================================
Effusive,Hailing, Heralding,Applouding, Gloat Over ....
Call me dumb, if that was precisely what I was waiting impatiently since the rise of morning stars at my gate.
That was very early morning.Waiting , waiting waiting.
"Waiting for the newspaper ?" Babuji asked.
"Yes", I admitted.But why ? for those highly ornated words, which were dried since long in India, specially in sporting arena ?Yes, , I have gone nuts...
.
"Hey, do something constructive." He handed me the milk container ,"Go and get the milk. Have you gone crazy?Waiting for the news paper, just to read four line "Stop Press News" or at the most, reporting of first half of the match ?You followed it throughout
yesterday. You must be knowing much more than that.Early morning ... Newspaper ..uh..and they say it is the best time to connect to God..."
Reluctantly, swiveling the aluminum container in hand, I headed for the public milk booth.
Contrary to my imagination, there were lot many guys at the milk booth.They kept their containers in one long queue, and themselves formed the group of three ,four or more guys and chatting.That was the best pastime while waiting for Milk van, to vent their
frustrations, to share the joy and whatever those "Nav Ras " suggests , except ,off course "Shringar". Yes, romance was simply inapposite.
Usually, uncles formed their own group, chitchatting about their growing sons and their career path. Aunts and young girls, they normally form another group. My childhood friends formed another group., We used to converse about sports, film and what else ? No, if something required whispering or chuckling, we used to go away further , keeping one eye on the path where milk van would appear eventually to restore the order. That day, casting away the convention of seniority and juniority, uncles and teenage boys seemed to mingle. They
were talking about a single topic, I know, you know and everyone knows.
"Hey Vijay.Did you see the match last night ?"
"No", I replied,"I rather listened." That was a partial truth but yes, a better answer at that moment.
"Oh boy.You don't know what have you missed?I saw it on TV .All the action, till Door Darshan dropped the shutters. You know, there was an uncle at the corner of street 4 Thorough gentleman... he allowed us to stand in lawn and kept this drawing room window open. Well, how can he allow such a crowd to let in the drawing room ? It was not possible.However, we saw everything from his lawn. The lawn was packed to the nines and you know, I am a little short and I stood a little behind. I had to stand on my toes constantly. See , it is still aching. But yes, it was worth. Each wicket tumbled and guys would rejoice in the lawn ... No, no, no whistling , see it was a gentleman's house with young daughter...Remember the man
followed Roberts and gave him advice... How funny ... and who was lying on the ground when the match was over. ?Was he Holding ? No someone else ..and awesome Kapil shook the Champaign bottle and what a shower it was...Srikkanth was smoking. Mohinder took out his red handkerchief from his pocket and waved it like a victory
flag."
"Wait a minute." I interrupted jealously, "Was it black and white or coloured TV?"
"Black and white.Why?"
"Then How do you know it was red handkerchief ?" I
tried to nail him.
"Oh boy.The whole world knows about his lucky red handkerchief, poking out of his pocket all the times. The whole world, except you."
=======================================================================
Contrary to Babuji's remark, it was not four liner
"Stop Press" or just half baked report of Indian innings.It was a full fledged , half a page , front page topmost priority headlines news .Just imagine, out of the total six pages, the half a page news weighing heavily, pushing all the news to be shrunk or consigned to back pages. I didn't have any clue, how did they arrange so quickly, the photograph of Kapil, brimming with the trophy.
Babuji came from bath.
"So, what was the final score " He asked.
"It has not changed since last night.Frozen in the time" I replied." That is on the newspaper."
"No, I don't have time to go through the whole score card. I have to go for the meeting and I know, everyone will be talking about it.Just tell me briefly. What was the score? Who hit the century?"
"Babuji, you know , it was a low scoring match Just 183 and 140.How can you expect a century?"
"Ok, Ok.I got it .It was low scoring match. Now, then how many 'ducks' ?That will be interesting ."
"Just one."
"Just one? In low scoring match ? Are you sure ? It may be misprinting."
"No, it was one and only 'duck' .I know. He was Kirti Azad "
"Kirti Azad? First name Hindu , last name Muslim ? Sounds familiar. I know only one such peson. Minister Bhagawat Jha Azad."
"You hit the point. He is son of Bhagawat Jha Azad."
"Oh really?" Babuji was delighted,"Then it will be an interesting topic to initiate the coffee discussion. Nice, now , I can handle any conversation on World Cup."
Babuji tilted his blue scooter , kicked , kicked , kicked and kicked. On forth kick, scooter started and Babuji was on his way to the college.
===============================================================
"O Tera Kya kahana?"
Well, that was the World Cup officially known as Prudential Cup Cricket 1983 , which I experienced mostly on wheels - trains, bus, bicycle, scooter.If you still have the energy and patience for my comment, I would say that it was a team effort and being the underdogs helped. Before the tournament, the world knew India had only one bowler to cop up with. But when Kapil failed, Madan and Binny fired.The same thing was true for batting. It was never a cause of worry that India’s greatest batsman Gavaskar hardly contributed. Yashpal, Srikkanth, Patil were always there shoulder the responsibility.In a team of young, experienced seasoned Mohinder perfectly blended as yeoman.

.....One and a half month passed.
That was return journey from Bhilai.I could sense the change in the air. No, I am not talking about the weather. Yes, weather had changed alright. When I was coming, it was scorching, peak of summer. Now, Indian monsoon had relented the relief. You just need to turn your neck and look outside the window. The farmers of Vidarbha were ploughing. The primitive method of farming still involved ox and plough .You could make out the almost all the family , right from the baby girl to grand old man- everyone was contributing one way or the other.. That was a treat to watch.. But hey, I was not talking about change in weather.

Remember my downward journey? Almost one and half month back ? The train was moving forward, the reminiscence of downward journey harked –back.

To begin with, I would like to demonstrate you how fifteen paise yellow post card said so many things in such a few words.
Here it is. The sender was some Roy - Probably Sanjay Roy You are awake? I am glad. Yes, he was the same good friend Sanjay Roy Bhopali. If I see the post mark,the date was mentioned as June 26, 1983.That fellow had mentioned even the time 0:45 hours. I received it three days later.
The content was concise, but optimum. It was something like that .
"Thakur, you must be happy now. India has won the World Cup. At last, you need not to go for 'Khokhale Kahkahe'. I'll wait for a treat of 'Patti' at our 'khoka ' from you."
Yours Truly - Sanjay Roy"

Did he need to write more ? Do I need to elaborate more ? Probably not. That post card described a lot.
And my room mate - Ajay Saxena ?So after Roy , you want to know about him.
Please allow me to do a little fast forward for that.
When we were back for the third semester, it was just second day when he told me , "Today, I saw 'Sun'( remember the long magazine ?) at Bunti's khoka. It has a nice king sized Kapil Dev's pin up.We will paste it in our new room."
I did not show much interest ,"Haan, Hun, Ok, Fine, no problem."
But within next two hours he bought the magazine. What was the hurry ?
"See Thakur,Bunti keepsonly one or two copies of such magazines. I didn't want that someone else would grab it .And see, that nice poster is for you. Look at it, wow ! Is the poster not nice ?"
I did now know, what to say. Normally, I would prefer some action photo - directly from the ground bowling or batting. In that photo - he was just chilling out. Both the hands behind the head, fingers entwined, blue jersey , in a relaxed mode - laughing , as always.

After the room allotment, we got room 129.That was 'B' block ground floor, adjacent to the bathroom. The wall attached to the bathroom was slightly damp. At least, it was looking terribly ugly. The six feet long, three feet wide horizontal poster came handy. Kapil effectively hid that ugly patch of water seepage for the whole year - laughing innocently in the relaxed mood.
It was one of those tranquil days of weekend. Under the poster of Kapil, Sanjay Roy was showing us the photographs of Chandigarh and Pinjore trip. New room mate, Veenu joined us..
"But I could not see Thakur anywhere.Where is he ? "He was curious. "Ok, let me show you ." Roy laughed. He pulled out a photograph of Pinjore Garden, where Uprit , Junior and Senior Saxena was dancing on water flow. I was standing a little away on the side, transistor firmly pushed against my ears.. In fact, I did not want myself to be included in the picture .I was standing sufficiently clear from the place. But in the camera of those days, you would be getting wider picture than what you saw in view finder.

That day was saved for India by someone, who was laughing over our head..

Welcome back from Fast Forward. We were inside Chhattisgarh Express,
moving towards Kurukshetra. For the 'n' th time, I repeat, I could sense conspicuous change in the air.
Durg was never the same again.
Gondia was never the same again.
Nagpur was never the same again.
Bhopal was never the same again.
Delhi was never the same again.
India was never the same again.

Remember the film ? When Amitabh emerged out of the godown, it was not "The End".It was rather beginning.
Beginning of the new life of Amitabh.
Amitabh was never the same again..He was lured by glitter of money.His life was marred by glamour and risk .He did not do all the things right- most of them were dangerously wrong. But he hardly cared for anything in the pursuit of nothing. In the process of gradual transform, he steadily became more and more alienated from his family - brother and Maa. And Oh Boy, he always thought he was doing it for Maa ...

So sir, coming out of the godown was just beginning.

Strangely, Bizarre enough, the same fate was mapped perfectly for Indian Cricket. It was lured and later hijacked by vulgar money and glamour. All of a sudden from the dune of sand, a megacity emerged as busy Cricketing centre - Sharjah. Like Amitabh, smugglers and outlaws were seen adulterating the very soul of Cricket. The dangerous flirt slowly blossomed to such an extent that it became increasingly difficult to retain sense of
proportion. In that process, the game gradually became alienated from its rightful followers and viewers.
Like Amitabh, Indian Cricket claimed that everything it was doing for "Maa" - the sincere followers, who ,one day came to know about ugly nexus of betting and match fixing, helplessly saw the vulgar dance of belly dancers in the field and extravaganza of fire crackers just in the name of adding "glamour".

Everything sparked by two innocuous incidence in World Cup 1983 final. N.K.P.Salve, the board president of BCCI, wanted to entertain his friends to watch the match from V.I.P. gallery. Lords officials denied the extra passes to him. Stung by that, Salve vowed to estrange the World Cup from England and decided to bring the next edition of mega event into the sub- continent. How he got it by politics and other power was a different
story.

The another incidence was directly linked with acquisitiveness for hard currency. Indian team received 20,000 pounds as prize money. Industrialist Swaraj Paul pondered that it was not sufficient for the effort of his countrymen. He announced 2500 pounds on the spot to their kitty. The board decided the players to give five lakhs each and imbibed NKP Salve , drown in Champagne , announced one lakh extra - tax free.

But where was the money ? Believe me, the coffer of BCCI was not that big in those days, even though , then also, they were the richest board . Raj Singh Dungarpur persuaded Lata Mangeshkar for "Musical Nite" in Wankhede stadium. Jagmohan Dalmiya was the organizer of the event and Mr. Bindra was secretary.
There, they realized the substance of money.
What happened later, all of you guys have seen over the years. Perhaps, we would revive and recall it later. I have to pull down the shutters. Before winding up, I would like to narrate a couple of events out of many incidents which I still remember on my way back to Kurukhetra and which reflected what I meant by "change in the air"..So ,to remind you , I was in train - Chhattisgarh Express .
===============================================================
Frankly, I had also changed .I was not the same devout fan of the game. At least, I lost half of the interest if not total. I felt nauseated when I saw, everyone was talking about Cricket in the compartment. I never knew that overnight, India had produced so many experts if not players. Nagpur, Bhopal , Gwalior - in all those stations the traditional toys of dolls , cars , masks, whistles, fiddles , paper fans , balloons disappeared and they
were replaced plastic bats and balls. Even playing cards, stickers, posters were showing the color of Cricket. And those stuffs were being sold as hot cakes. Bookstalls were flooded with large number of extra copies of magazines like "Sports Week" and "Sports Stars", "Khel Bharti" - covered with Cricket only. Still customers were asking for bizarre magazines ,"'Cricket Samrat' hai ?'Cricket Bharti' hai? Do you have Cricket special edition of 'Dharmyug' and 'Saptahik Hindustan'??" And believe me, the book stall guys were quick enough to supply the demand with immaculate efficiency.. Sometimes they would say," Nahin sahib, khatam ho gayi. You take 'Cricket Bazar' instead. I am sure , you won't be disappointed."

So the first incident happened somewhere after Gwalior.You know, there were different types of beggars in train in those days. Someone would play 'tick tick tick' musical instrument and ask for money. Someone would come with a small kid, who would show some acrobatics and then his sister would sing a song and they would collect the money. Some kid would simply hold your legs closed the eyes and do nothing. They would be in frozen state till you threw some coins for them.

They were two brothers, barely five or six years old. They came with their father, who had 'dugdugi' in hand. One of them mimicked the bowling action of bowlers , on demand. Someone from the crowd demanded, "Madanlal" .He ran , jumped and open chasted hurled the bowl. His father collected a 'chavanni'. Someone would say, 'Mohinder', he would run slowly and sent down the ball.He had even mastered the bowling action
of Abdul Qadir ,Imran which he must have seen in any of the highlight.

The other one was batting expert, as per his father.But he was not as talented as his brother. Poor fellow could not differentiate in Richards and Yashpal Sharma. Nevertheless, he also collected a lot of coins.
=========================================================
From Delhi, I boarded on Kalka Express ,since Chhattisgarh was going through Saharanpur, Ambala route.
Kalka Express reached Kurukshetra at around 2.30 AM.,early morning.I never knew so many RECKERS were traveling in the train. However, when I got down, I saw so numerous faces streaming out from here and there,,which I believed, I had seen in campus.
The major problem was, how to get back from Station to RECK.Most of the times, it was tough to find rickshaw wala outside the station in V hours. If you discovered one and
mostly they would be sleeping, it was equally tough to wake them up. Even if you get them wake up, they had all the rights to refuse to go to the hostel.
This time, I was traveling alone. All other Bhilai seniors, either they went for industrial traing and coming directly from those places , or ,had already returned since final year semester was supposed to begin a week early.
There, I saw Begali , Kundu.. My strength was doubled. I called him,"Kundu".
He turned and looked back, but his gaze did not zeroed on my face. It went over it. He did not stop and kept on walking with his seniors.I went and tapped him from behind, "Hey Kundu. It's me."
That fellow did not recognize me. He asked in English, "Who are you?"
I was crestfallen ,"Kundu, I am Thakur .Recognize me ?I am your batchmate." "I don't know you." He said flatly.. What an awkward situation it was !
"Hey come on Kundu." Then I tried to convince the senior ,"Believe me sir.I am from RECK.Here is my I-card"I pulled out the I-Card.
"Gosh , it is not required." The senior smiled, "I have seen you in the college."Kundu was still unconvinced, "In which floor you are ? Who are your room mates? Where are you from ?Oh you said M.P. Can you name a batch mate from M.P. who is Bengali?"

My God...That fellow had forgotten everything in vacation or aftermath of euphoria of the World Cup? Then I met a few Orriya seniors. They were nice gentlemen

Getting the rickshaw was a common problem. It was decided that few of them would go out, leaving their luggages behind and find out the rickshaw others would wait for them.
There , in the waiting room, I consumed the last bitter dose of Cricket.
He was Orriya senior, thick specs, name I could not recall, (some Rout).He asked me ,"Have you seen the world cup matches ?"
"We don't have TV."That was not his answer, but it was not a lie either."That was terrific. When they started the World Cup campaign, no one had ever thought that they could defeat any team other than Zimbabwe."
"You are right sir." Oh God, if they were not going to get rickshaw soon, I was going to be fainted then and there.
"And they had beaten West Indies twice. Mighty West Indies.Perfect story of David and Goliath,underdogs, dark horses"
"Yeah , Yeah..", I pretended to be an earnest listener. God, how difficult it was. He went on analyzing the team performance and I could not even yawn. He said, "I am from Cuttack. They have allotted a One Day match against the upcoming tour of West Indies .See in Cuttack, India have never lost a match."
"Oh really ? " I exclaimed, wondering how many matches had been played till that day on Barabati Stadium.
Problem was, I could not yawn, I could not wink. "You know, this Indian team is a losely knit team.
Never mind, Gavaskar did not score much. He loves Cuttuck ground. He will surely score a century over there. The main strength of Indian team is fielding."
I dozed and dozed hard. So hard that when Kundu shook me , I was laying on the floor of waiting room like a drunkard.
===============================================================
In rickshaw, I was sitting with Kundu. Seniors made the arrangement that guys from same hostel would share the rickshaw so that he did not have to go to one hostel to another. .I was sitting with Kundu.Till Bramh Sarovar, neither he nor I spitted even a single word.Then suddenly he asked,"Do you like to come back to hostel Thakur?"
"Why ? I don't know. Probably, I don't like."I said.
"Exactly. You know, when I was coming out of home, I felt like a newly married daughter, who was going to her husband's house."
I was so much exaulted that probably, I would have tumbled down from rickshaw. At last, oh God, at the last lag of my journey , barely half a kilometer before the destination point, I found someone.I found someone, who was still immune to the new disease. Who
could still think about something else. Whose mind was still sterile from the germs of Cricket.
"You are right Kundu." I said only that with voice choked with emotions It was the need of the hour to buckle up my euphoria. Why ? Why do you say why?? We were passing the darkest zone near 'Pahli Patshahi' gurudwara at three O'Clock in the morning. Did you expect me to howl in delight at top of my voice ?
=============

P.S. _ When Amitabh realised and wanted to trace back to Maa, it was too late.There, I sincely wish that the fate in the film script would not match the game of Cricket.From the clutches of the politicians, mafia, film stars, alcohol sellers and last but not the least, betters and match fixers, it should come back to the sports lovers.Otherwise, all the glorious uncertainities would be looked with the microscope of suspicion,every now and then fans would feel let down, camera would follow the players for heir off the field activities .... Who knows, probably, then Hanumanji at Zakhu will listen to my prayer again.

The Arduous Train Voyages and Sindbad III

2011-01-31T00:28:00.000-08:00

Voyage Two – World Cup on Wheels – Part 2

Believe me.I was shaking with trepidation and anticipation.
Kapil stood tall two feet ahead from the rest. He looked relaxed while tapping a ball with the bat, but I knew the furor going in his mind.. On his left side, Sandhu and Madanlal edgily gripped the balls in their hand. Glancing on the right side, I could identify Yashpal Sharma , Patil and Srikkanth swinging bats in air, raring to go .Kapil looked stern. Then he shouted, "And where is Roger Binny?"
Binny was furtively smoking at remote corner. He quickly puffed twice or thrice and threw his cigarette on the melting snow , came running and joined the brigade.
But where was Gavaskar ? I skimmed down and down further. There he was.. Sitting on a rock with "Nawabi Chhadi(Royal Stick)" in his hand. One leg crossed on the other Yes, it seemed to be my walking stick which I bought from Shimla in the exchange of sweat and blood money of Babuji, which I saved over the months by cutting the corners .His pose could give a complex to Dev Anand at his best.
Kapil barked,"Guys, before they attack us, let us overwhelm them."
Amarnath nodded solemnly ,"Absolutly.If we can not bury them, they will bury us."
Suddenly a barrage of fire boomed the air. There they came. There, behind the hill. I could identify Kim Hughes, Marsh, Border, Graham Yellop, Lily, Rodney Hogg. They tried to hide themselves, walking cautiously , sometimes running , sometimes stopping, sometimes bending. Kapil just kept his hands raised and allow them to come near and within the range. Suddenly he commanded , "Fire".
All of a sudden, all the bats metamorphosed into raging machine guns and ball, hand grenades. Intense firing from rival sides rumbled the hills. ....

Suddenly, the booming became softer and milder. It was "swish , swish, swish" rather than "boom boom ".It was approaching closer and closer.
Before some unpleasant “Bohni Batta” happened early in the morning,I opened my eyes and jumped and wrapped the bedsheet in jiffy. That was the sweeper, washing platform number one of Hazrat Nizamuddin on the early morning of June 20
In the age of electronic media, TV to be specific, do you need dreams anymore to echo your turmoil ? Others are paid to imagine the visuals for you ,produce and present with digital sounds, sleek photography and priest tolling the bells and lot of girls dancing .Of course, at the end, the players will imbibe some soft drinks or sell anything but Cricketing gears.
*******************************
Chhattisgarh Express... I got the berth this time without much problem,thanks to the telegram message sent by Kurukshetra Station Master. My name was figured on waiting list when I checked the list yesterday evening. Railways decided to add two additional sleeper bogies keeping summer rush in mind and I was through.
When Chhattisgarh Express came and new bogies were attached, I was not in a hurry to rush in. What should I run and dodge and push and huff and puff ? I had valid reservation and Chhattisgarh would stay there for half an hour. Those , who panicked , I felt pity for them.
.
At last, when I entered, a uncouth shock spitted on my face blatantly..
Some three four Marwadi , with big pagadi , dhoti and kept their legs up , were sitting there. Not a single inch of space was left in my coupe to keep my bag. Lazy overconfident cat VS Thakur! That was destined to happen. They had spread the newspaper .on the seat and were eating dry puri and and probably Kachouri.
I just stood and looked at them.
“Reservation compartment hai yeh.(This is reservation compartmnt)” One of them informed me,”Go back.Unreserved compartment is two bogies from here. Rush Bhaya ,otherwise, you know. It is summer time.”
“I got the reservation”, I enlightened them, much for their exasperation..
“Ke number hai (What is the number)? Dikha ticket (show me the ticket)? “ One of them challenged.
No doubt, that was just beginning of the journey.
I showed them ticket.One of them checked it,”61 ? That is top berth.Yes, you can go up.”
“Where will I keep the bag ? “ I asked.
They looked around. No place was left for me.. They were traveling with big black tin trunks, securely locked , some sacks and a number of leather bags. – peeping, glaring ,winking me -under the seat, space between the two seats, even the space beneath the side seats ….Were they going for marriage (summer is always marriage time in the plains). There was a young fellow sitting with them on seat for three ,half of the weight on toes.That posture suggested that he was a short distance traveler…..Nice grey bell bottom , red shirt loosely rugged in, comb peeping out from back packet, a small bag in hand.
I was at my wit’s very end , where had I got trapped.
They were talking about Indira Gandhi and her virulent policies. As it was fashion in those days, guys would vote Congress into power then target it in all public conversation. Then they were talking about Maruti, which was supposed to be launched shortly..
Incidently, the newspaper they were using as a paper plate, contained the heroic innings of Kapil against Zimbabwe. It was sad to see that in the background of oily food stuffs, he was willowing his bat .
I was just listening, waiting for some favorable topic to drop in when I could open my mouth.
When the topic came, my mouth opened robotically. I could not uttered a single word, as if my jaws were frozen by quickfix. But what they said , reflected the point of view of the majority in the nation. Sadly, it was about Cricket only.
The temporary traveler , just pulled the ‘paper plate’carefully and started reading the news about Kapil’s innings.
“That was a great innings uncleji.” He innocently expressed his view.
“kya bole babuji ? Cricket ? kahan ho rahaa hai ? sab tamasha hai .Isase Desh ki garibi dur koi nahin hogi .Hoggi kya ? Bolo babuji, aap to padhe kikhe hain...Sab khel tamasha hai... Road ke kinare dekha hai naa, ek nat rassi par chalataa hai? bas vohi tamasha .Hamne to bas wahi do roti khani hai babuji ….”(what did you say ?Cricket?Where is it going on ?all farce...It won't eradicate poverty/Will it ? Tell me sir.You are educated.All mindless entertainment it is ... you must have seen some roadside show.Someone walking on tight rope ...exactly the same mindless entertainment.We have to eat the same bread .. no change).
Had it dampened my spirit in any way ? No sir, I did not want to argue with them.True, at that moment, I was startled to see the apathy of common Indian masses, but well, they had their interest, I had mine.Unless those interests did not cross , who cared and why ?
All I needed was a transistor. Alas, Saxena’s transistor. Oh Saxena’s transistor. My best friend till day before yesterday. Where are you now dear, dear pal ?
The train crossed Vallabhgarh.The fellow got down at ‘Raja Ki Mandi’.
As such, the space was packed with the luggage.I could not sit down and spread my leg.I had to confine with the top berth, sleeping or half laying.just beneath the hot steel top of the bogie, with the fans, blowing the hot air at full blast
I slept and slept. It was a dreamless sleep.
===============================================================
“Don’t disturb me.I am sleeping.”
“Please ..Please let me sleep.”
“Respected sir.I beg your pardon.Excuse me please.Please let me sleep.
I was barely aware that someone was shaking my leg. I heard a booming voice of senior Marwadi,”Tikkat dikha de Bhaya. .fir so liyo.(show your ticket brother.Then sleep)”
I opened my eyes reluctantly. Yes, it was T.T. only.
I quickly opened the zip of my bag and pulled out I Card.Ticket was crumpled over there.I asked the T.T. , where we were.
“Don’t worry.You have long way to go. Bhagwan ki daya se Bina aane wala hai(With God's grace, we are approaching to Bina)”.
“What ? “ I woke up and slid down, glanced at the watch. It was well past four O’Clock. I looked outside.
Still , it was sweltering and sunny outside. Now, I could see that two railway tracks were multiplied to four and the eight. Now, I could see a number of engines stationed here and there. Now, I could see the thick pipelines, running parallel to the platforms. All those indicated me that a big station was imminent. The train would station there for a long time and those thick pipes would be used to fill up the water tanks of the bogies of the trains , joining them with black hose hanging loosely.Chhattisgarh Express was anyway going to halt there for a long time since direction of engine was going to be changed .
What was I missing ? Yes, Saxena’s transistor. By now, one of the teams might have won the toss. One of the teams might be batting.I could not wait the train to halt completely. That was the advantage of Indian railway. Depending upon your daring and urgency, you can pick and choose speed and timing to get out of train.
Station without water ? In summer time ? Impossible in India. Never mind those dry water taps , connected in parallel and back to back – sometimes worked as wash basin , sometimes water tap, in some other time, open half bathroom too. What if they were so dry that you could see column of ants marching in and out.
“Sheetal Payjal(cold drinking water)”.Yes, the Hindi reminded me that we were in M.P.I pushed the knob again and again of the cold water machine. A very thin stream dripped out each time and then stopped within two second. No wonder, passengers were not queued up here. But where were they ?
“Seth Dharamdas Pyau”. Ok, they crowded over there, each one had one or two water bags in hand. One fellow was carrying a bucket. But there I saw, the object I was searching for. There were six orange earthen pots “Matakaa” kept side by side, red wet clothes wrapped around them, they were placed on wet sand.A young boy,barely fourteen or fifteen years old, was fetching the water.
So it was kept on the side of the last “Matkaa”.
I weaved my way through the number of passengers pouring over each other over there.
“What is the score ?” My demand was rather unusual for him. Suddenly I realized that the transistor was switched off.
“Do you get short wave on this? “ I asked. He understood a little,”It is five band radio.” He replied,”Just look at the size.”
In those day , the more bands you have the size would increase proportionately.
“May I have a look ?” I asked. I switched to short wave , turned the knob to 25 meter bands and tuned to the magic word, ”Lawson is back on his bowling mark. Hughes want to make some change in fielding.”
Ok, India was batting first-who was on the crease ? Come on, tell me more… quick... quick ….Suddenly , the counter boy leaped ,snatched and switched off the transistor. Fear was writ large on his face. Within split second, another hefty fellow jumped inside and slapped him.
“Gaana sun rahohai Be Chhachhundar…. Kaam kaun karega ?Tera tau?”
“No, I was not listening to song. I was doing my job.” He sobbed.
“Jhuth bolataa hai ?.” The fellow switched on the transistor .He could not make heads or tails of it. He switched it off again.
“Why did you bring it here on the first place ? Just to show the crowd that this you got it in your dowry ?”He shook the young boy.
==============================================================
…….The train was passing the stations. The next big station was Bhopal.Probably, I would get the clear picture by then….God, please help India today once more. Just the last time…If they lose, points would be equal for India and Australia. Then run rate would come and play. Let them lose, but not by big margin. Let them exit from World cup, but it should be graceful.
I was sure that I was not the only crazy in this country. “There must be others, one hundred percent – they must be traveling in this train too.Only thing is I need to connect them “ I thought.
Those days, the bogies of Chhattisgarh express were not connected throughout like Tamilanadu , AP or other superfast express..The reason could be, each major station, Hazrat Nizamuddin, Bina, Nagpur – added a couple of bogies separately. At the most, three bogies were interconnected.
I was sniffing for the transistor. Yes, I got. No, I have not .Yes it is … No it is blatantly not…It was better to ask the fellow who was singing the song.
“Is it two in one?” I asked the young man who was listening to “Taa Thaiyya Taa Thaiyaa Ho Ho” of Jitendra and Sridevi.
Those days, ‘two in one’ was owner’s pride.
“Yes it is.Just see, crystal clear sound ,no chee peee. Uncle got it from Dubai. Sit down..”He invited and made space for me.
“Do you get radio also ?” I wanted to make it confirm before investing the time.
“That is precisely two in one.” He answered, humming and shaking heads sometimes alongwith the song.
“Do you get only Medium wave or short wave ?”I probed deeper, slowly moving towards target.
“Both medium and short wave one, short wave two.” He boasted.”Just see the sound. How clear it is. Can you detect any chee pee”
I sat idle there, mustering the courage, waiting for the cassette to end.In an attempt to be friendly, I even praised “Himmatwala” also brutally suppressing the voice of my conscience.When I felt comfortable and when cassette was over, I asked,”Can we listen to the commetory?Just score…”
“Oh India match ? Problem is you know, we are inside the train.You know , the signals would be weak .You know, it will eat away a lot of power and you know, my cells are weak.I am not sure if we could get it … sorry.”
I went on aimlessly in search of another “Murga” which was not there .I had to wait for Bhopal. Yes, if Saxena listened to his transistor’s inner voice, he would definitely come to the station to tell me the score.
===============================================================
I swear, I had never witnessed that big a crowd at one platform. Wherever I could see, however I could turn my neck- added by moving the shoulder, swiveling the torso on the waist- all I could see was heads and heads only. Some of them had black caps on , some of them white cap (No, not the Gandhi cap, but White cap without a brim.snuggly fit, mostly netted), some of them had covered their head with handkerchief - however , it deemed necessary. I could see bald heads, thin haired head, white haired head too. A welter of heads with different caps and no caps ….Most of them had beard , but no mostache. Those beard were dense and few of them long also. Most of the were wearing white kurta and payjama, whose legs fell somewhere between ankle and toe, but definitely , no where near touching the ground. No that it was conglomeration of stronger sex, I could see a fair amount of fair sex also, but their fairness was clad in black or grey burka. Mostly , those black dots were found in close proximity in that large canvass.The crowding was so dense and packed that it confused some of those guys in the train who had to get down without stepping into the toes of those static mass.
And the unfortunate part was - Oh God, the Marwadis had to get down at this station - Bhopal the capital of M.P.. They had jammed both the doors of the bogie with their luggage, arranging, rearranging, counting, shifting from one door to the next door in the search of certain bags apparently missed in one group. It was definite that they were going to attend the marriage. They had started their activities from Ganj Basoda and it reached to the level of panick at Vidisha. Now, when they saw the huge crowd at Bhopal station, they were near hysteric.
As soon as the train came to complete halt, the small crowd of incoming passengers launched at the door. The railway station announcer was announcing sweetly ,vaguely, but helplessly,"138 down Chhattisgarh Express platfor number 3 par aa gayi hai.Yeh Bhopal station hai.Aanewale yatriyo ka ham hardik swagat karte hain Kripya ahle utarane waale yaatriyon ko utarane dijiye."
No one heeded any attention to her calm, stereotyped voice. Pushing to each other, those passenger were desperate to get in. Marwadis hawled, "This is reservation compartment. Go to two bogies down."
Lot of guys from crowd replied isolated and collectively. The muddled messages should be interpreted as ,"Reservation ? What reservation? This is day time. Reservation starts after nine."
The Marwadis replied,"Oh, you guys are teaching rules to us ?Don't worry, we are getting down.Let us get down first.Then see"
But they were stuck at the door like cork in the bottle.Their big tin boxes wedged at the door.They pushed the incoming guys back to the static masses assembled at the platform. There were tumult in all the respect. Both the door were jammed. It was so crowded that those, who wanted to get down, could not go to the next bogie.
By the time, dust settled down,coast was clear, I hardly had time to wander in wilderness in search of the score.
When I got down, I discovered that most of the guys in the static mass had tears trickling down from their eyes. Probably, they were waiting for some other train at platform number two, going towards Delhi, but I suspect, a single train would be sufficient to carry them to Delhi. But no, all of them were not traveling only some of them were traveling. Those , who were not, were embracing them again and again, men to men, ladies with ladies. They kept on kissing the departing kids again and again and crying. Requesting them not to go. Pleading them to stay for another six weeks. Asking them that they would file the petition to extend their visa. On their part, the visitors consoled them, inviting them to the other side of boarder and give them a chance to show their “Mehman nawazi”.
“Ayenge Mamun. Passport ka application daal diya hai , ek saal pahle.Passport milte hi visa nikalkar ayenge.Samjhouta Express to chal rahi hai naa ..Abbu aur ammi ko lekar ayenge..”
Hardly two or three families were returning to their home , across the border. But it seemed to me that the whole Muslims of Bhopal were emotionally attached with them and pulled down their shutters to see them off.
The platform was so jam packed that even walking ten steps were strenuous.
Obviously, you can not expect from those, who were sobbing and crying , to keep track of the score.
==============================================================
Itarasi was the biggest station after Bhopal.
When the train reached there, it was the time for prime time news(8-45 ;Paune Nau ). I had to find the news. The match must be at the crucial point.
Ramanand Prasad Singh agreed with me. He was the news reader, who was reading the prime time news. That was the headlines he was reading.Without telling the score etc, he enumerated the headlines at the beginning. The forth headline was , "Cricket Vishwa Cup main Bharat aur Australia ka match romanchak dour se gujar raha hai." I did not know what was "romanchak” in the match. Without knowing the score, how can you reckon that the match was passing through the exhilarating phase ?That was the penchant of the All India Radio news in those day. They habitually enhance the trill by holding the cards of facts and data closer to chest and passing the inference to the audience in the headlines. Specifically, when something live was going on. Whether it was election news, live Cricket news, death toll in train accidents, flood and loss due to incessant rain or whatever - their headlines would not reveal the data.
Damn... I was boiling just like the tea pot, which was kept on the tea shop's gas burner. All the fried snakes were available in the shop and vendor was serving the other passengers , who were in hurry as always. He had in fact asked me three times, what I needed.What I needed was being served or likely to be served by his transistor I was just listening to the wavering voice of the radio. To get the relevant news, I had to stay there till almost end of the news. I kept on changing my distance from his shop, always pacing, so that he did not suspect anything. All of a sudden , he said, "Sir, your train is leaving."
Surprised, I looked back. Yes, Chhattigarh Express was leaving.I did not hear the announcement , because my ears were tune to something else.I even missed the departing horn of the engine.
=====================================================
Itarasi came at around 9 O’Clock.After that, the only significant station was Amla. That was significant in the sense that the caterer would either supply the food to the trains or collect the aluminium plates and washed for recycling The halt duration was not that much that I would again venture around.
Now, Chhttigarh Express was chugging along as fast passenger. To follow the ‘Dharma’ of passenger religiously, it had to stop at each and every station – somewhere for one minutes, somewhere two.Some stations had small structure with a yellow bulb desperately trying to dispel the darkness.Some stations did not have even the lighting or if they had, it was submerged in darkness due to power cut.Yes, power cut was there in those days too.
Probably, as a friend , you would not advice Thakur to get down and enquire about score.What will you say him,”Chhod yaar. So ja. Kyon jaan de rahaa hai?”.
I decided to do the same thing.The sleep was away from my eyes.That was hot summer night.The fan overhead was blaring hot air .All the passengers were sleeping.
“This must be the crucial hours.” I thought.
I looked out of the window.
Yes, I was expecting some angels to come down from sky and whisper the score in my ears.The angel came in the form of TT. Ironically, I was the only person to show the ticket.
“TT Saab, should I ask one question?”
“Yes.” He ticked my name in his chart.
“Do you know , what is the score ?”
“Oh, match ? Yes , India has won it….I mean, India would surely win it…Well, India was about to win when I last heard.”
“Really ?” I was euphoric..
“Yes, I think so.But , don’t believe on me. Baap, aaj bahut jyada piyela hai main.Tu samajh raha hai naa.”He barely whispered,”I was searching for first class compartment, to there, lock from inside and sleep.Galati se idhar aa gaya.Jyda piya main bahut jyada.Tu samajha naa? Ab jyada serious mat le .Are apana Hindustan jitega yaa jeet gaya hoga .Tu jaa ke so jaa.Tension mat le.”
I knew, if I sleep now, I would dream about Saxena’s transistor today.
To be specific ,till Itarasi, the question was – what was the score ?Now, it had been transmuted to – who won the match ?The corollary was – did India make it to Semi Finals? Despite the loss, India could have made it provided the run rate tilted the balance in India’s favor.
Chhattisgarh Express had a long halt at Nagpur station- forty five minutes. Reason ?
Nagpur is the heart of Indian railway system. This is one of two stations ( Bhusawal being the other), where East West railway line crosses North South track..So it pumped the trains in all directions – North up to Jammu Tawi, East upto Guwahati, South up to Kochin and Kanyakumari , West up to Ahmedabad.
Till now, Chhattisgarh was running more or less North – South. Now, it had to go Eastwards. The direction of Engine had to be changed.
But timing was all wrong. Oh God, why it had to be 3.45 early in the morning ?And those tea fellows ? Not only from outside the window, they would need to find one open door and hawl at top of their cacophonous voice , “Chai, chaaaai garam.., chaai waala”.As if the guys were awake all nights and waited fervently to taste their ambrosia.
But that day , I was grateful to them to wake me up.
==============================================================
I was out in search of those fellows.
And I was pacing up and down the platform in search of those fellows. But no, I could not find them. In fact that timing was so wrong that except rea wala and coolie, no one was alive at the platform. Other vendors or non-vendors, even if present at platform, were sleeping as dead log.. All the shutters of the kiosk were down
So, I could not find them at platform number five. Probably that was too early for them to turn up. It took fraction of minute to resolve to venture for the calculated risk. If my calculator missed out the vital decimal digits, Chhattisgarh Express would chug away alongwith my bag and “Nawabi Chhadi”.
I swiftly went up to the over-bridge, and scampered to platform number one. Just running frantically, I was searching for them.
Yes, there they were !There, on the other side of main gate. Yes, yes. They weare there !I rushed to them.
They were six guys, diligently doing their job with full concentration. Opening the bundles of the newspapers, counting them, segregating and sorting them area wise, opening the bundle of another newspaper, repeating the same process- then couting, then tying them with cord.. It was agonizing to see that they even dismissed my presence. No, they were not the newspaper vendors, I was looking for .But yes, they were dealing with newspapers.
I stood there for a while, trying to grasp the head lines through constantly moving papers, attempting to find out if there was any news about the match. It appeared to me as the normal day newspaper – mundane with same political headlines, similar advertisements, almost same photographs which you saw in those days-Some leader was delivering speeches or inaugurating something or bestow prizes to some widow or children. No, there was no headline which I was seeking for. But there was visinly no news of that sort.
My heart sank in deep sea of sorrow. That means India lost the match and the match news had consigned to last but one page. No, but there could be one more possibility.Probably, Rain God heeded attention to my prayers, relented and match was spilled over to the next day. I was desperate to find out. I need to draw their attention.
I coughed and then coughed again and then coughed for the third time.
The person with thick spectacles and bald head, raised his head and looked at me behind the glasses.
“If you are sick, please go away and then cough.” He urged as politely as he could and the submerged again in newspapers.
“No, I am not sick. May I buy a newspaper ?” I asked. I knew, sometimes in special occassion, mainly the result days , they carried lot of extra papers.Apparently, if it was a good news, it could be one of those occasions.
“No, we are not vendors. We are distributors. All these papers are counted .Just wait for another hour and then buy whatever you want.”
“No, I am in fact traveling.”
“So buy at the next station baba.”
“May I read it .Just a little?”
“Sure.Without touching any of the newspaper, you can read. But please don’t cough”.
I again tried to read from where I was standing – bending on my waist as much as I could. But no, I could not make head or tail out of that.
“What was the result ?” I asked eventually.
“Result ?” He mused,”SSC result was announced last week. HSC result will come next week.Which result you are talking about ?”
“ India Australia match.Did India win the match”
“Hun Hun” He said without looking up.
“Or Australia won the match?” I was not sure what was his answer.
“Hun Hun” he said again.
“Or it was rain and match was postponed.
“Hun Hun” he said again.
The train was running Eastward. Dejected Thakur dozzed for another two hours, then the morning cacophonous call of ‘Chai, chai” from outside the station woke me up.
It was Bhandara Road.
“Ok, we were near Gondia”.I thought and rushed to the bathroom.
Thre four guys were already waiting .There used to be two washbasin outside of the bathrooms too. In Chhattisgarh Express, most of the time, either they were as dry as Thar desert or choked and as flooded as Cherapunji.I looked outside. Suddenly, I realized why ladies and most of the gentlemen avoided to look outside the train early in the morning. Those were the days when “Sulabh Shouchlaya” or something like that was not in existence. Most of the guys found side of the tracks as most convenient place, since there was no fear of snakes around railway tracks.
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“Great.India made it to Semis”.
No, there was no headlines screaming like that. But the big photo of Kapil, on the top half of the front page obviated any other speculations.. That too, if the newspaper was “Times Of India”.
That was Gondia station. I could see Kapil Dev laughing on the front page. Immediately bought the newspaper and jumped back in train.I could hardly wait to consume the news.
Train slowly pulled and I opened the sports page.
“Kapil whipped Zimbabwe” was the headline.
That was all about the Zimbabwe match.
There was no other news. Nothing was mentioned about Australia match.
Gosh, immediately I reverted to the front page of the paper.
“National Edition” it said , I tapped my forehead and spectacles popped out.
Those days, big newspapers, like “Times of India” , “Hinduatan Times”,”Hindu” had two editions, “City Edition” and “National Edition”.”City Edition” was like normal news paper.Mostly, it was distributed around the the city where it was published. Like in Kurukshtra, we were getting “City Edition” of Delhi. For the remote places like Gondia, Bhilai, Bilaspur, it was “National Edition” – one day behind the City Edition.
Once again, I was deceived by a googly.
Now, I had drained all my motivation, combusted all my about the match .We were approaching Dongargarh. My destination, Durg was hardly one hour away,if there were no unexpected ‘signal down’. I just resigned to hold back till the news on its own, would emerge dancing down in front me..
Now , I could see Dongadgarh and Bambleshwari temple on the top of the hill. Train halted and I got the news! YES, you heard me right.But how ?
One peasant, alongwith his wife and daughter boarded on the train. He was carrying a big, partially open sack of spinach leaves and the local newspaper “Nav Bharat”.
Normally, it happened in those days, so long as someone was inside the train, newspapers , magazines etc. were not his personal property. If someone bought the paper, all the guys from his coupe would read it. Someone would read front page, someone the middle page. Then they would wait patiently the other fellow to finish and then exchanged the pages. That was implicit way of sharing the information. If the journey was long, then after reading the newspaper, normally there would be discussion session,”Are sahab, Indira Gandhi ka dimaag kharab ho gaya hai….” someone would start the discussion and others would join open heartedly. Sometimes they unanimously find the target for their tirade, sometimes, it was acrimonious heated exchange of idea. Ah, those were the days….
The peasant sat of the side seat.The sleeper seat for three was more than enough. I moved inside and signal the little girl with running nose to sit on my side.
Then , in the bargain, I asked for the newspaper.
There , I just got the news I was looking for. It was four lines with bold font “Stop Press” news. But that was unambiguous unlike drunkard TT or indifferent Newspaper dealer.
I wanted to pull the chain , stop the train, jump out and shout … But better sense prevailed.. Durg was just one hour away from here and India stormed into Semi Final.
=======================
Chhatisgarh was stopped at platform number four.
The bag was hanging on one shoulder. On the other hand ,I had the "Nawabi Chhadi" of Simla .That was Durg station. Still, I was not in a hurry to go home. Instead of jumping down from platform to the track ,cross it up to platform no. one and climb up again like a monkey, I took gentleman’s route, went over the over bridge and then came down to platform number one. I stopped at the book stall. At that time, there were three prominent local newspapers in Chhattisgarh - all of them were Hindi newspapers - "NavBharat", "Yugdharm" and "Deshbandhu". We were regular subscriber of "DeshBandhu", so I bought "Yugdharm" and "Navbharat".Well, there was an English local newspaper ,"Hitwad" also , I bought that one too.
When I came out to get a get a Tempo for Bhilai, the picture was like this - I was carrying the bag in one hand, “Nawabi Chhadi” in the other and the newspapers were tugged firmly on my side, under the armpit. Those days, Tempo operators were in stiff competitions but there were unity and veneer of discipline also. Till the first Tempo were not overloaded, the next in the line won't take any passenger. I sat on the empty Tempo. The tempo wala was alluring and inviting others to fit in ,"Bas do minute main jaane wala hai." The same parrot line he kept repeating since fifteen minutes.That was one of the prerequisites of his job. One family, like me, sat in that. As I said, I was in a no hurry. I kept on opening each newspaper and trying to fit the puzzle pieces of the match. Each and every newspapers described the Indian innings nicely. But the result was consigned to the "Stop Press” news , which said India qualified for the Semi Final. One of the news papers mentioned the Australia's brief score. It also mentioned that both Roger Binny and Madanlal took three wickets each. I needed to talk to my childhood friends. Probably , they would throw some lights on that.
===============================================================
Home .. sweet home ….
Eleven O’Clock summer morning … Heap of news papers,…Sister urging absent minded brother …The backyard water tap … half bucket water …
You must have done this exercise in your primary school.If I show you the above mentioned picture, can you construct a story for me ?
Absolutely, I am confident, most of you can.Probably you must have undergone the similar situation many a times.
Well, if you are still struggling to arrange, here is the story – my story.
When I reached home,it was eleven O’Clock. Babuji was in college, making arrangement for ongoing Ravishankar University exam. As always, Maa was delighted. It was rather surprise for them, since I had not mentioned the exact date in my letter. All because, the Shimla Chandigarh plan was still hazy when I posted the letter.
The first thing a mother says to his son, coming from long travel,”take bath.In the meanwhile , lunch is ready.Eat and then rest.”
When I heard it from Maa, I did not heed much attention. I went to the bathroom, there were two bucketful of water. When I opened the water tap, it let out a whistle ‘suuuuuu’ and then dead.
“Water goes at seven O’Clock in the morning.” Sister informed me.
No worries. We had a water tap at the backyard. Its level was much lower than the usual water taps in bathroom and kitchens .So, even if the pressure went down and thus rest of the water taps gave you thumbs down , that water tap would serve you as faithful servant for a long time. It so happened that in summer time, one or the other neighbor would come to our backyard to fill up two backets, one on each hand and would carry the water to his home , wobbling, spilling water on the way, but happy , whistling and singing.
So, no worries. Let me revive and relish the news from the inaugural match..
I pulled out all the old papers dated from June 10 onwards, then I thought a while and picked the news papers even one week back. After all, let me review what was the expectations, who said what and which player did what for as good luck rituals. Then I started reading the about each match. The history was unfolded in front of my eyes. Memory was getting refreshed.
“Take the bath…” , mother came and chided me.”These newspapers would not fly in one hour They would remain there.”
“Yes, Yes Maa. Just two minutes, just five minutes….” I kept on saying.
At last, I reached to India Australia recently concluded match and tried to figure out the complete stories. But so many pieces were missing..Indian batting was described properly, but that was all. I had only ‘Stop Press’ news in all the newspapers .I had to figure it out with my childhood friends.
I went to the backyard. The columns of red ants were moving near the wall. Most of then were carrying some white seed. Immediately I recalled the weather predication of Magh and Bhaddari , the Indian poets. They say that when ants carry white seeds , get ready. Rainy season is round the corner. That year, rainy season was already late.
I opened the backyard water tap.It also evoked a long whistle ‘suuuuuu’ and then dead.
I looked at the watch, it was one O’Clock.
The emerging picture looked simply fabulous and promising when I joined the jumbled information I gathered from my friends and the newspapers At last…,it looked like this.
India won the toss at Chemsford. Kapil Dev, not learning the lesson from the last match, decided to bat first on moist and windy atmosphere.
When I looked into the score card, the highest score was 40, just four zero forty, scored by ‘Pappu’ Yashpal Sharma. Second highest was 37 by Mr. Extra. Still, India managed to score 247 runs all out. How ? Except the openenr Gavaskar (9 runs) and last man Balwindar Sandhu (8 runs),everyone reached the double figure mark, but failed to go further. Patil hit 30, Kapil scored 28,Srikkanth made 24, Binny 21 .So half of the team scored 20, but none of them could convert it 20-30 into big score.
Can you believe that ? In reply, strong Australian team was folded in just 129 ?How that bizzare happened ?
When I was as Itarasi station, and news reader said,"Match romanchak dour se gujar raha hai" , probably, Australian score was around 45 for one.Traver Chappal was out cheaply when the score was 3.The second wicket fell on 46.Thn just see the reading of fall of the wickets - 2-46(Wood), 3-48 (Hookes), 4-52 (Yallop),5-52 (Marsh), 6-69 (MacLeay), 7-78 (Hogan).
There was a partnership for eight wicket - 40 runs between Lawson and Border, but that never look as threatening as any recovery process. Once Lawson was out, the team could make 11 runs more and all out on 129.
How sad ! It was a resounding send off for mighty Australia .It seemed that they were never in reckoning. The tournament began for them with a shocking defeat .Their ending was even more depressing. After all, the margin of 118 runs did not speak high of them. That too , in the hands of the team, which they defeated just a week back even with much resounding margin.
Who pulled the rabbit out of hat ? Well, just like batting it was a collective effort. Madanlal took 4 for 20 and Roger Binny , 4 for 26.Remaining two wickets went into Sandhu's bag. Four batsmen were clean bowled.
So that was the story , which was elusive for me throughout the journey.
. Those who have read the write up thus far would sense some void , big gaping hole in the description. Some of you might have already been whining with a tinge of disgruntlement "Eight teams have been whittled down to four and no mention of Pakistan ?"
I got it what you mean. The saga of any Indian glory, that too, any sporting grandeur, to be specific Cricketing splendor -is grossly inadequate without any mention of Pakistan. Pakistan, whose panache would sometimes, but randomly converted into performance.
So , you guys must be conjecturing, how Pakistan would be doing in the tournament. The short answer is - Pakistan was also in Semi Final, squeezed through by scoring 0.08 more runs per over than the Kiwis.
"Hey What is this ?"Ok Ok, please release my collor. I knew beforehand that this answer would hardly quench your thirst. You want some elaborated delineation..
Where to start ? Remember the Indo - Pak series of 1982-83,(effectively, our first major series in RECK), when Pakistan decimated India by 3-0 ? It costed Gavaskar of his captaincy and Vishwanath, his place in the team and International Cricketing career. Till date, like any staunch Indian, I am not able to digest that defeat. As a nation , mastered in offering the excuses, we found two reasons for that - biased umpiring and ball tempering which left Lala Amarnath wonderstruck in commentary box and Vengsarkar on the pitch by the talking ball which had gone mad time and again in the series. Those raison d'être, offered as face saving excuses, fell under the "foul play " category. The main reason- which kept on haunting India time and again over a decade or so, was Imran Khan and his devastating bowling. Yes, it was Imran's bowling, which severly dented Indian batting psyche.
But .. But .. But..
In the World Cup Cricket 1983, the spectators did not get a chance to witness his bowling . So sad, he must be missing ....
Missing? No, no.I am not suggesting that he did not play. He was very much thick in the action, but did not fire a single salvo did not bowl a single ball in the entire world cup. Confused ? You may wonder, if he was bowling, then what was he doing on the field ?He said , he was not fit for bowling, then how come he might be fit for fielding ? He was captain, he was an all rounder and could bat. In the era of great all rounders, like Bothom, Kapil, Hadlee, Marshall and Imran, Pakistan allowed him to play as a batsman. It happened only in Pakistan that an unfit player, better known as bowler, but would not bowl, would captain a side. Anyway, he was not as gifted a batman as Kapil and Bothom were but his grit and determination that he demonstrated amply in this World Cup as a batsman. And yes, only Pakistani could do it – making up to semi finals under a half fit captain.
Pakistan started his campaign in style, piling 338 runs for five wickets against Sri Lanka. But wait, match was not yet over. Sir Lanka also made a strong reply. Making 288 runs while chasing.
Second match - and Pakistan lost it against New Zealand. Chasing NewZealand score of 238, they lost their first three wickets on '0'.Yes, scoreline was zero for three. Mohsin, Mudssar and Zahir Abbas were back in huts without scoring an single run. Eventually, Pakistan lost the match by 52 runs.
Third Match - Pakistan lost to England by eight wickets.
Forth Match - After two consecutive loses, Pakistan won the match by 11 runs against Sri Lanka. Yes, just 11 runs, thanks to Abdul Qadir, who took five wickets.
Fifth Match - Pakistan lost to England by seven wickets.That was third loss for Pakistan in five matches. Their wins were against Sri Lanka.
Was there any hope for Pakistan to make it in Semi Final ?
Yes, the hope came on the same day, when Sri Lanka beat New Zealand unexpectedly. New Zealand made 181 and erstwhile minnows, though the tag was wrong even in those days, beat New Zealand by three wickets
So there was a chance for Pakistan to make it in Semi Final, provided they could beat New Zealand in their last encounter and and beat them comprehensively .so that their run rates be better than New Zealand.
Yes, they did it in one of the most thrilling , corker matches in this World Cup.
Pakistan made 262 for three. Their injured captain Imran and Zaheer had unfinished partnership of 149.Imran made 79 not out and Zaheer made 114.
In reply, New Zealand kept on losing the wickets .Just imagine, seven of their players made double figure, but they failed to convert 30-40 to big scores.Pakistan used seven bowlers. Zaheer also bowled four overs and returned with one wickets for eight runs. Kiwis were all out on 250.The gulf of 11 runs proved too much for Kiwis to cross.
And see? That just eleven more runs was good enough for Pakistan to make it to Semis.
So Pakistan was barely able to keep nose out of water. But that was nothing new for them. They combusted when they were under the gun, but they fired through the hips when they were forced to kneel down and forced their way back.Even later years, they pulled out victory from unexpected corners.
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Thank God to avoid the head on collision with Pakistan in semis.
Had it happen, either India had lost or they might have won it. If they lost it, it would have been national mourning and name calling and head rolling. If they won it , the same ordeal would be performed across the boarder. However, the encounter would be so energy sapping that team India would be pooped in and drained out and must be caught napping in the boxing ring on the day of final encounter.
As per the theory my friend, in each World cup, there are many winners and losers. The final trophy is immaterial. If India beat Pak in any match, their World Cup ambitions fulfills. If England beats Australia, they are the winner of World Cup. If minnows topple the apple cart of any test playing nation, like Zimbabwe did here, they return home as winner.It is a different thing that finally, some team lifts the trophy. But there are many World Cup winners much before the final match.
So , the highly charged collision with Pakistan was avoided. It was a different thing that Pakistani could not digest India's ultimate win and they disparaged it saying that without winning match against Pakistan, the World Cup win was hollow.Though India creamed them in coming November home series and then silenced the critics across the border.
Pakistan and West Indies collided in Semi Final.India took up England.
English team was riding high on success.It could boast about arguably all time great all rounder Ian Bothom, batsmen like , Gover , Lamb , Getting, bowlers like Bob Willis and Dilley.
It was an ideal atmosphere to go Durg station and try for reservation for the return journey.The earlier , the better. I had the option to go by either tempo or bicycle. I preferred bicycle. The day before, it rained. It was just a pre monsoon shower, but it was good enough to soften the summer heat. I planned to go there in the morning, but some of the childhood friends met and we just kept on discussing about the match, strategy about how to counter Bothom, how to blunt Willis, should Kapil drop Gavaskar or not, if Gavaskar would not play, who should open etc. etc. It was open ended discussion and it consumed more than four hours. As I told you, the weather was pleasant and sun was hidden partially behind the clouds we lost the idea of time.
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The process was like that.
First,I needed to find out te proper reservation window for specified train - say Chhatisgarh Express,then stood up in the queue counting one to thousand and then thousand to one in reverse order.. When my turn came , the clerk would scan through the reservation slip I filled up.He would look at the appropriate reservation register (those days, different registers were opened for different trains), trying to figure out if the reservation was available in the mentioned train at specified date. Then he would ask for the Concession Form I received from the college.He would look at the dates, always with suspicion, then look at my face. When I smiled, he would also smile, but won't say anything.Then he would sign on the reservation slip and concession form and ask me, "Go and get the ticket."
That would mark end of stage one successfully completed.
I had to go to another queue , stood up in the line.That queue was for the normal Ticket
Window. Issuing the concession ticket was a trifle longer procedure. Whereas , for the normal ticket, it would be hardly two minutes affair. The person on the other side of the
window would ask the passenger, "Where are you going?"Then he would look at the properly arranged card ticket stack, pick up the ticket gave it to the passenger, take money from him .Sometimes return the remaining amount and that was all. The occasional minor irates would be ,"Go and bring the change or wait till I get it" and "This note has a hole in the middle .Give me another" .Apart from these two, I could not recall any third snag in otherwise smooth , streamlined process.
For a concession ticket, he would first read the Concession form thoroughly, scan front and back both the sides , then ask,"Kurukshetra kahan padataa hai ji ?"
"Haryana main." I used to say.
"Bahut dur hai.Kahin pas main aa jao "He would give his piece of advice.Then, "I -Card hai aapke paas?" I would show the I card.Once he was satisfied, he would pull out the
manual ticket book ,search for a carbon and then put it inside at appropriate place and first check his ball pen by scratching ona rough paper and then start 'scratching' it on manual ticket book..Then he grabbed the Fare Calculation book, find out the distance. Then he would pick the fare chart,which was like log chart and find out the fare.Then he would use his commercial calculator and then divide the fare by two.Then start
'scratching' the manual ticket again.
In the meantime, those, who were standing in the queue would get impatient and bemoaned. Some of them would come from behind , right up to the window to investigate, "Kya chal raha hai ?"In the meanwhile if some train came in,the passenger in lines would cry, "Please sir, train has come sir.Please." I always took pity on them and appealed the booking clerk to clear them first ,who were supposed to travel immediately. My ticket could wait. Most of the times, booking clerk would just smile sardonically ,"Don't worry. If they were as concerned , they should have turned up little earlier.I see these scenes daily."Or , sometimes, if he was concerned, he would say, "Ok, just wait for ten minutes ." Then I had to wait for another ten minutes.
Once, I got the ticket,that would mark to the end of stage two, successfully completed.
I had to go back to reservation line once again, stood in the queue once more. Many a times, booking clerk would recognize me and call me directly.But many a times, the process took such a time that even booking clerk were changed , or gone for tea and someone else would occupy the seat. Otherwse, if he was unconcerned,I had to go through the queue process again.
But once, I got the reservation or even waiting list,the mission accomplished successfully.
The whole process took three to four hours.Sometimes,it spilled over to the next day.
That was why, that day, I brought transistor with me,kept securely inside a cotton bag("Jhola").
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I was coming from Durg station,the trasister was in my bag and on. England had started well.Both Tavare and Fowler were playing with ease.The match was almost one hour old and Indians were not able to pick up a single wicket.
In those days,the road from Durg to Bhilai, passed through some barren open land. (nowadays , there is hardly any open space.The builders have done marvelous job.) I was not able to concentrate both on paddling and commentary. Thus, I stopped the bicycle, went of the side of the road and put my focus on match. Today, two matches were being played , instead of four on the other days..So, the timing would sliced to half an hour.
Suddenly a car stopped near me.One person, with black goggles towel (Gamachha) around his shoulder,white kurta with chest buttons opened, got down.I switched off the
transistor and looked at him.
"No, no.Don't switch off." He insisted ," I wanted to know the score."I switched it on. But B.B.C. were now broadcasting the Pakistan West Indies match.
"Oh no.Now, they are broadcasting Pakistan West Indies match."
"Are you listening to B.B.C ?" He asked,'No, tune to Raipur station. Today, Akashwani is broadcasting the commentary "
"Oh really?"That was a pleasant surprise.I switched on the Raipur station. But no, there were no Jasdev Singh, Sushil Doshi, Murali Manohar Manjul,Ravi Chaturvedi or Manish Dev.There were no Suresh Saraiya ,Ananth Setalwad or Dr. Narottam Puri either.They were just relaying B.B.C.commentary but continuous , uninterrupted India England match.
"Yes, that's it.Not only that, you know, Doordarshan is telecasting the match live also."He informed further.
That was the first time in Indian Television history when Doordarshan transmitted a live Cricket match on National Network.Yes, they had been telecasting the matches on metro , so Delhi and the guys around it, (like we in Kurukshetra ) were always watching the matches live.That was the first time, when Doordarshan, utilizing the costly services of satellite, decided to show the matches throughout India. In small and remote towns , like Bhilai, Gorakhpur and Ranchi, in villages, where power supply was equivalent to power cut, in the tribal villages, where there was perhaps only one government sponsored television in school, guys were glued to the television set with disbelief.
Definitely, it helped the Indian Cricket in long run. Watching the matches live is the best coaching.So, when we see players from remote town, they grew up and learnt their basics from the TV.
It also helped Indian Cricket in long run in some other way.We will discuss it later.
Coming to the match - so, it Was Raipur station, which informed us that just now, Chris Tavare was out, caught by Kirmani, bowled by Binny.That time, the score was 69.
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Paddling, stopping, listening, paddling - that was the cycle I followed on bicycle.I kept on paddling the bicycle for five minutes or so,then I would stop, switch on the transistor, get the latest score and proceed further only to stop .
Englandcould have built on the solid start. But all of a sudden their scoring went into low ebb. Indians were fielding like live wires. Bowlers became wiser and miser with steady line and lengths.
Madan, Binny and Mohinder.And then came and turned up the trumps - Kirti Azad. England were losing the wickets at regular intervals. Most of them started, but they failed to flourish and steer the ship. It was similar to India on the other day against Australia. Their openers scored 33 and 32.Mr Extra scored 29 runs for them.There was no collapse of any sort. It was just that, they could get going. Here, Kapil's captaincy was remarkable. Even though he was not master strategist, he marshaled his bowlers well. He kept on exhorting his boys. The field placement and change of bowlers, depending upon the
batsman, was remarkable and paid dividends .Till this match, Kirti Azad had just bowled two overs in six matches.Here, Kapil pitted him against Bothom.Kirti Azad did a remarkable job in middle overs which choked flow of runs.Suddenly Bothom looked like a toothless tiger.He showed his intentions by stepping out sometimes, but was bound by Kirti. Ultimately, Kirti ended his painful stay at the crease. Bothom scored just six runs in twenty six balls.
The whole team was skittled on 213.But to score those runs, England played total sixty overs.Their last wicket fell on the last ball.
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Though England had some good bowlers, like Willis , Dilley, Allot and Bothom, their attack was never a menacing .Indians had plenty of overs with them to knock of those runs. They could pick and chose their strokes or try some new ones if they preferred. There was absolutely no pressure on them.And they did it like that.The best example was, Yashpal Sharma's innings, who played with patience for a long time then suddenly burst up like a cloud..
As such, Indians did not show any haste or panic or tendency to commit hara-kiri for no reasons. Call it professional or clinical - The operation was pretty smooth.I think,that was probably the only match in the World cup,when I was not tense.Though the commentary was on relayed on Akashwani,each station had its own list of priorities and pre-scheduled programmes. There were interruptions - long and short- here and there. It so happened that I preferred to tune to B.B.C. till they switched to Pakistan West Indies match.
Gavaskar and Srikkanth started well .Gavaskar scored his highest in this tournament. Just when it seemed that he had overcome the initial hiccups,playing fluently and finding the rhythm, first, his partner Srikkanth departed.Then within a space of five runs, he was also consumed
Yashpal and Mohinder joined and first ascertained that there would not be any further shock.Then they consolidated the innings without taking any undue risk.Instead of hitting boundaries, they relied on running between wickets.Mohinder scored 46 runs 94 balls..
However, when Mohinder departed and Patil came on the crease,he changed the tempo of the game.For me, whenever Patil batted, it was always entertaining. All his strokes were not power strokes, like hitting the buffalo with a stick. They were always with precise footwork, sweetly timed, nicely placed with optimum amount of force.That day, probably he was in rancid mood. He must be waiting for a long time, having the pads on, just watching Mohinder and Yashpal playing overly caucious innings while chasing a meager
total. When Mohinder got out, probably, he must have kicked his chair before rushing to the ground.Just to remind you, when he came, India needed 72 runs for victory .And when he returned ,unbeaten 51 runs (in 32 balls) were against his name. On the same ground, one year back, he had hit Willis for six fours in one over.This time, he hit him three consecutive fours.
The English fans were so much disappointed that there was verbal abuse, exchange of boxes and punches took place with Indian fans.Luckily , nothing went out of the hand.
However, vice captain of Enland, David Gower , was sober,"Fielding,Team work, and Kapil's captaincy, has made this a dangerous side.".He summed up at the end.
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What kept me interested in the other semi finals - Pakistan vs West Indies ?
Was the bowling of West Indies scintillating ? No ..
Did flamboyant Pakistan bowlers produce the trademark fight back, they were famous for ? No ...
Then what was fascinating ??
Let us begin with Pakistan's batting.Pakistan scored total 184 runs - yes, even one run more which India could secure in final against the same opponent.Though it was not the
figure on scoreboard, it was the way the Pakistan innings shaped up, which looked amusing. When you hear two strikingly diverse view about someone's performance, the performance is bound to be interesting.
Out of those 184 runs, Mohsin khan scored contrite, sluggish,test match style 70 runs in 176 balls .Yes, he consumed almost half of the balls and scored a lone boundary.When he got out in 57 th overs, Pakistan was 171 for eight.Because of his dawdling pace, the batsmen on the other end, getting out one by one in an attempt to step up the scoring.
In contrast, there was another school of though for his innings.
"Wah , Wah, what an innings, Subhan Allah", that was another view. They felt that even the paltry score was possible because of the constant vigil of Mohsin Khan's batting
which bound the Pakistan innings.
And West Indies ?Greenidge and Hayens put 34 runs for first wicket.When Hayens out at the score of fifty six, Gomes joined Vivian Richards .They played two contrast innings .While Gomes watched appreciatively from the other end, Richards annihilating the bowlers , making 80 in 98 balls, he himself scrapped his half century, taking even two balls more than Richards played the total balls. Windies won the match with more than 11 overs were spare and steamrolled into the Final.
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(Contd)

The Arduous Train Voyages and Sindbad -II

2011-01-30T16:49:00.000-08:00

Voyage Two – World Cup on Wheels – Part 1

Accepted …But ….
Accepted that they are marvelous player. But…
Accepted that they have scored mountains of runs …But…
Accepted that They have accumulated heap of wickets ..But…
Accepted that they earned N.P.M ( Note Printing Machines) ..But …
Accepted that they mastered “Doosaraa” (and in the process, forced ICC to change bowling rules) But…
Accepted that they paraded in steps with sultry ramp queens ..Every now and then adorn the chair of judges in beauty contest ...But…
Accepted that they open restaurants ( to provide delicious foods to creamy layers of society ) But…
Accepted that they pierced the ears for ear rings, grew beard , shaped it French cut, have long hair, used exclusive eye glasses while fielding ….. But…
Accepted… But….
Let us face it…
Accepted that they did everything which a worldly mortal being can do. But till today, they are not able to win a World Cup for India.

I don’t want to go into the depth of the reasons or the weakness of this generation of the Cricketers. I only know that they have everything, but not fire in their belly. They perform like God when sailing is smooth. But they show their feet of clay and fall like nine pins when wind blows in opposite direction.
This is not just my feeling.I would like to produce verbatim a comment from a young reader, who was born after 1983 world cup –
"Unfortunately I am from the generation that missed out on the most glorious day in the history Indian cricket because of the reason that i wasnt even born then. I was born and brought up on the staple diet of the Tendulkars and Gangulys. But still the piece evoked memories of my dad recounting that day.
Hope one day, I too will live to see such an occasion !! But when?"

Twenty eight years back, in our generation’s Cricketers, we saw one player who was brimming with the spirit of “Chuck De” and he inspired and challenged his team mates to show to the world that the “Dark Horse” was not in the race to complete the list of “also ran”. But the “Dark Horse” was there to put life in the meaning of “Dark Horse”.
He was our Hero, our beloved Haryanvi – Better known in Haryana as “Haryane Da Veer” – Praaji – Kapil Dev.
Things began to happen on 9th June 1983, when we were preparing for second last paper for our exam.
*************
Where to begin ?
Background ? India just came back from and arduous West Indian tour , where they were thrashed by the Caribbeans by 2-0 in test . However, that was the very tour, where they learnt to believe in themselves, when they beat mighty West Indies in one of the one day matches. That was played at Albion Sports Complex, Albion,Berbice, Guyana.
Believe the bookies ? Yes, it would be a nice precursor. When the tournament started the chances of India’s win was quoted as 66-1.
I think, they were benevolent to figure out that odds. In my own calculation, it would be 1000 -1 .When you have mighty Australia and omnipotent West Indies in your group, how could you fancy your chances to advance to even Semi Finals?That too, to obviate the rain play a spoilsport, the organizer decided to have the format of double league. I would be thoroughly content if India claimed legitimately the matches against Zimbabwe - at least one of those two ....
I don’t know, what prompted Australian captain Kim Hughes to label India as “Dark Horse”.How much serious was he – that was another question. And as you know, all these kind of stories emerged only when miracles happened.
Today, many of the players of the winning team proudly boasted that they knew it beforehand, they were confident – but you , I and everyone knew that each match of India was hard fought and not all the matches were won. India somehow survived to live just another day, each day throughout the tournament. In fact, in the middle stages of the tournament, India was all down, but out.And at the second match against Zimbabwe, India was like Amitabh Bachchan, back on the wall, pulled by rope around the neck, beaten ferociously in godown, ready to die and fry .But just like Amitabh, India somehow put his hand inside Peter’s shirt and got the key to escape.
...........Key to World Cup …
********************
9 th June 1983 ..........
When Atul was furious and irritated, he would take open book in hand, leave the room, go to the adjacent room of Roy and Baweja. Since after shifting of Rajoria to 210,it had one vacant cot ,to provide asylum to him.
Bizarre it was, he could tolerate singing of Baweja , but could not digest Kishore Kumar singing at Saxena’s transistor. That is a different thing that sometimes, Saxena hummed with the song( since he did not know much of the wordings).
But that day, all the fingers were pointing towards me.
The next day, we had the exam…
The transistor was lying on the study table but it was silent. But how long ?
“Saxena…May I switch on it ? Just a little…. Only score, then I’ll switch it off….Promise .......”
Saxena would flash his teeth which became as white as pearl since he was brushing it twice a day and once before going to sleep.
So I would switch on the transistor with Saxena’s overt blessing, deliberately ignoring Atul’s sulking.
Though four matches were being played simultaneously – England vs New Zealand,Pakistan Vs Sri Lanka and Zimbabwe Vs Australia …and ….and India Vs West Indies, I confined myself to the last one.
Direct telecast ? Forget it. Doordarshan bosses were thinking like me.Who would pay astronomical satellite bill, when India was indubitable to lose and lose badly .In fact, for the sake of argument, India’s last two world cup record was not dismal but abysmal. In
1975, they won one match out of three and 1979, they were vanquished in all the three.Yes, all three – that included a defeat against Sri Lanka who was not even recognized as a Test Playing nation at that time. Even “Akashvani” concluded that they had better
programs for large section of target audience. That included farmers, folk singers, poets,local stage artists, University Grant Commission, politicians and other news makers.
So, don’t even ask for direct telecast or All India Radio running commentary broadcast.
Rather, arrange the return tickets for India on June 20 – when they would finish the formality of playing the group matches and would be homesick by then.
B.B.C. was broadcasting the running commentary for the matches. But since four matches were being played simultaneously, they would cover each matches on round robin basis. The epoch of time , they were slicing was one hour. That meant they would cover India- West Indies match for fifteen minutes and then I could switch off transistor
for next forty five minutes. In the meanwhile, sometimes I search some sports news where I could get any updates about the match. That included “Khel Samachar” and “Sports News” at Akashwani, BBC London Hindi and Urdu service who liberally informed latest updates whenever something happened at the ground and news at Radio Pakistan.
That had irritated Atul Uprit and might be , first time at room no. 225, I was the culprit for his irk and migration .
Honestly, I could not resist. The match was really interesting. Can you recall the fearsome quartrate of West Indian pace battery ? Marshal, Holding, Garner ,Roberts – yes, all the four were playing on that day. There was no respite for Indian batsmen. If you remember, those were sixty over matches and each bowler was allowed to bowl twelve
over each.That means, forty eight overs of sizzling pace ! Rest twelve overs were to be divided by part time bowlers – Richards and Gomes.
Gavaskar and Shrikkanth started well.Well ? Just an opening partenership of 21 runs was considered “well” in front of those bowlers. Before the slice of fifteen minutes, Shikkanth scored quickfire 14 runes, smiled and satisfied that the job well done , edged a bowl from Holding and went to pavilion.
Next forty five minutes was complete blackout.The tranistor was silent. All the three room mates were studying.According to Indian time, it was around Four O’Clock. Secretly I just wished that those two room mates went for tea so that I could listen to the commentary without inviting any wrath.
Baweja came for my rescue. When Baweja called, no one normally refused.Going to khokha with Baweja was always full of fun. However, I had other interesting things to do.
So what had happened in those fifteen overs in between? India lost Gavaskar also, but it was not a collapse.Batsmen were trying constantly to study the ship and avoid further damages.It was interesting contest between Holding and Baba Amarnath, Roberts and
Sandeep Patil and so on.
Time for hour long BBC news followed by sports news and it was black out again.
In between, there was some intermittent interruption due to rain fall. However,the match continued. I was constantly scrapping all the resources to get the latest news.
It was about ten o‘clock night when finally I got the commentary of last few Indian overs.The score had crossed 250 marks.Wow ! Who was playing ? It was Pappu –Yashpal Sharma, who, alongwith the tailenders, managed to sew the innings and pull along.You said tailenders ? Hardly… That was the beauty of 1983 Indian World cup
team. Shastri came to bat after eight wickets were down.And Shastri was, by no means , a tail ender as per standard definition.By that time, he had even opened the innings for India.And in coming years, he became India’s regular one day opener.
So, the Indian score stopped at 262 in sixty overs.That was an achievement on its own –in front of West Indian pace battery.
=============================================================
It was inexorably certain that despite the score, India was going to lose the match by ten wickets.Might be, if not by ten then definitely by nine wicket.Or, it might happen that probably West Indies would lose one or two random wickets more .It was incredulous if they would settle for less than six wicket.If India could take five wickets, it would be victory for them.The batsmen stood tall in front of the pace battery .It was a challenge for the bowler to compliment their performance.But why morose thought overwhelmed my mind ? Just look at the batting line up - Greenidge and Haynes would open the innings.That would be followed by executioner Richards.Then Lloyd was there .If anything went wrong by any chance,uber-cool Gomes and Bacchus would steer the ship .I didn't think if West Indies would ever need the emergency services of Dujon and Marshall.But in case, they got the chance to bat, they would show that their batting skills could not be taken likely.In short, if at all any hope was there, it was very bleak and slim.
West Indies started their innings and rain came for the respite for India. As such , Indian innings was also interrupted by rain many a times.Ultimately when the play resumed,Greenidge and Haynes were pulling the score with ease .And suddenly , Haynes got out.At that time, the West Indies score was 49. Who took his wicket ? Hi Hi Hi, he was run out. Richards came on the pitch.Suddenly Sardaar Balwinder Singh Sandhu produced a beauty and timber behind Greenidge got disturbed. I was delighted. At least, India was not going to lose the match by ten or nine wickets.At least , they are not bequeathing the match on silver platter.
It was late night.Atul was already sleeping to wake up early morning. The next day, we had the exam.Even the players called it a day little later. At that time, West Indies were 67 for 2. Suddenly , the commentary was shifted to another venue and I received first profound tremor of the world cup.
The age has excellent whip of life which brought everyone on to his knees.It had happened even with Arjuna.After Mahabharata battle when he could not protect the women from trite dacoits.

That day it happened to great Thomson, Lilly and Rodney Marsh. It was not less than a bombshell that star studded team of Australia lost to Zimbabwe .

Sometimes, it did not matter, sometimes it looked revelation, sometimes , something to ponder, but let me specify the margin of defeat. The margin was just 13 runs. Again, Australia was not all out.They had lost seven wickets. The partnership of eighth wicket between Marsh and Hogg was unfinished and it was worth 50 runs. How did it happen that Australia, who had batsmen like - Kim Hughes , Boarder,Hookes in their team, could not score 239 runs and could make just 226 in 60 overs? Lillee took two wickets in his 12 overs , but he gave 47 runs.Thomson did not buy any wicket in his 11 overs and he spent 46 runs.The inclusion of Lily Thomson and Marsh was lashed out in Australian media, that they were encumbered with the lame horses .That was the last time, when the fearsome trio of Lillee, Thomson and Marsh played together. After that, Lillee played two more matches, but Thomson played none.
I am cent percent sure that if Paul Condon's anti corruption unit for match fixing existed in those days, this match would have been very much under its microscope.
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How was the exam next day ?
Honestly , I can not recall.It was in the afternoon, i.e., from 1 to 4 slot . After having heavy brunch, we went to write the exam.But I do remember that when I came back and switch on the transistor West Indies had squandered seven wickets.Seven wickets ?Astounding ... By the time, I tried to absorb the shock ,the omnipotent finger of umpire showed stubborn Lloyd the way to hut.130 for 8 ?My joy knew no bounds.At the down stairs,the guys were tallying the answers and I was just waiting if the commentator would read the score card, just for me.It was too shocking to comprehend.How did it happen ? Who put the ginny inside the bottle? What happened to mighty Richards and company ?
Who was at the crease then ? Long handle players Roberts and Holding.West Indies had not even touch the half way mark.They had long way to go.But those two played sensibly to give some anxious moment and frustration to India. Roger Binny and Patil were bowling. Those two tailenders had already added 27 crucial runs.
Suddenly, Kapil tossed The ball towards Shastri and Shstri provided the breakthrough. India was just one wicket away from the major upset. The wicket proved elusive. Roberts and Garner started bombarding the Indian bowling.
To rub the salt further, BBC stopped the commentary and it was the time for World News followed by Sports News. Time to go out and see the world around me. I saw Manish Gupta, standing on the ground between common room and B block, having transistor glued in his ears.There was small crowd gathered around him. Definitely,Manish Gupta was not the music lover who could tune to filmi song so attentively and others looked at his face with some anticipation of magic words to drop out from his mouth any moment. But what was he listening? It was the time for world news in BBC and it would be followed by sports news.That would cover Soccer,Rugby ,Athletics, Cycling , Boxing,Canoeing , Archery and Cricket. In Cricket also, they would cover scores of country wide county matches and they would say a few sentences about today's world cup match.But Manish Gupta was keen .Since India needed just one wicket , those few sentences would have that news. Nothing happened. Probably, it was
raining again. I joined the crowd near Manish Gupta, watching his face, nothing happen.
Probably, things happened only on Saxena's transistor - I concluded and headed for my room. Yes, it was almost one hour and no exclaimation from Manish Gupta.That was really a cause of worry. I switched on the transistor, it was tuned to B.B.C, undisturbed.
But still, it was transistor of yesteryears. If you switch off and switch on after a while,you had to do at least some fine tuning to get the station again. I was just doing the fine tuning , then I heard the shout from Manish Gupta and group. Yes, Shastri was called as a change bowler.And on his very first ball, Garner stepped out and ever ready Kirmani did the stumping. India won the match by 34 runs.Right, that last wicket partnership was looking ominous. It added 71 runs. But at last, somehow something happened.
===============================================================
Hey, you wanted me to describe the delirious scene in hostel ?
Sorry, if you recall, there were none, except some shouting from Manish Gupta and party which was eventually muffled in the hush of the evening.Most of the guys had already left for the city for after exam freak out. That included my room mates. Both of them.
I really doubt , even Indian players had celebrated the spectacular win with their hearts content.They had to play the next match at very next day.
I am not sure about you guys ,but I relished the first of three days gap each time.It was always the part of extended relaxation.
What to say if it included a tension free one day match against lowly minnows.
Monnows? They had beaten Australia just the other day.Well, let us put it in this way, the weakest opponent for India in that group.
I had a lot of 'rajma' (kidney beans) at the lunch, had a nice afternoon nap.Got up in time , stretched full length and pounced over the transistor.
Considering the fact that both had upset the mighty teams in opening encounter of group "B", exciting contest was in the offing. Though it turned out to be hardly any contest,(even naming it 'contest' was trifle exaggeration.), I could hardly complain.
India won the toss and put Zimbabwe in .
Zimbabwe kept on losing the wickets at regular interval and by 8 p.m., the whole team was folded, packed and sealed on 155.Nothing about that innings is worth mentioning.
Yes , Indian wicket keeper Sayed Kirmani pouched five catches.That was a world record at that time.
India's chase began.Commentator was telling again and again the Zimbabwe's fielding was top class. The intention of emphsising the fact in a banal repeatation was, 155 runs should be considered equivalent to 200.
Gavaskar fell cheaply on 4 runs.Srikkanth scored fast food like 20 and then joined Gavaskar in pavilion. Baba Amarnath and Sandeep Patil played sensibly. Patil completed his half century Then he thought ,he had done his bit He would like to join others in hut and give new batsmen some chance to warm up .However, just withing 37 overs, India scampered through the match.
After that , Saxena had ample time to listen his favourite songs on Vividh Bharti, sing side by side and bob his head like a noddy toy on the tune. By the way, if you recall,in those days, Vividh Bharti pulled down the shutters by 11 O'Clock. And when Saxena took over the tranistor, Chhaya Geet , the program about thematic song was on, which used to be on air between 10 to 10-30.Now, you can imagine how easy the victory was.
Plenty of the time was spared for the listeners, viewers and spectators.
=========================================================

Meanwhile, Yes, meanwhile let me warn you.The plan was cooking up.

Daily Saxena and Roy were seen busy in adding the finer details in already fine tuned and intricate plan and Atul joined them. So far as I was concerned, I gave my endorsement about joining it right from the beginning , but I was not that kind of guy who believes too much in micro management. I was the most mis-managed person after Baweja.For me,anything they came up with was ok.But Baweja ? I don't know why, he always got annoyed when he saw something brewing under his nose.Rawat and Rajoria were also skeptical about the plan and they steered clear.

Slowly and steadily, the last paper was coming near. So was the time to execute the plan and so was another nerve-racking match - India Vs Australia.

India had killed one giant indeed.Now , everyone was expecting - they would at least stand up in front of another giant. At least I was not so optimistic that miracle would happen second time.Just two years back, In one of the World Series Cricket match, India was folded against Australians for paltry 63 runs just two years back.

************************

"Hello I am Vijay." He chirped with big grin over his face.

"I am also Vijay." I replied cautiously ,"but who are you ?"

"I am Vijay.",He repeated , somewhat puzzled.

"Accepted. But how did you come in ?"

What had happened ?

We were in exam hall for last three hours, writing the last paper-Engineering Chemistry.

When I reached at the room,to my bewilderment , the door was locked, not from the outside, but from inside. Normally, it was my habit that after any paper, without discussing questions with others and tallying, then ruing about the answer - thus effectuating the mood off - I always dashed for the room. So, invariably , I would be the first to reach the room, ahead of Saxena and Uprit.

When the door opened, someone, who claimed himself as Vijay was already in the room. So, it was legitimate for me to ask him that how he entered inside.

" No, Key was there. At the top of the door.I picked it from there."

That was our understanding .Though each one of us had room key, many of the times,specially during exam days, we notice that someone or the other room mate had forgotten his bunch of key. It was very straightforward to figure out. Most of the time, the bunch of the key was hanging on his cupboard's key hole. Sometimes, it was laying on the table. Then the other room mate would detach the room key from his key ring and keep it above the door.

"But how did you know where to find the key ?"Though it was unwrapped secret in hostel ,yet it was not universal truth. That fellow was outsider. "No, Raju Bhaiya told me."

Ok, so , he was the sibling of either Uprit or Saxena whomsoever was having

nickname "Raju". If I looked at him closely, it would not have been convoluted task to untangle it, but I was rather preoccupied somewhat .

Anyway, it did not take long to figure out whose sibling he was. Saxena came in the room with Roy. "Raju Bhaiya".Another Vijay exclaimed.

"Oye Titu." Ajay Saxena said. Raju and Titu were embracing each other.The looming inscrutability ended there.

He was Ajay Saxena's brother Vijay Saxena who joined RECK three years later in 86 batch .Incidently,in Physics department, there was a research scholar from Bhopal, who later joined the lecturership.. Dr. Kamra became Ajay Saxena's friend during our first year itself . Ajay Saxena had invited him for lunch many times. Three and a half year later, when he saw Vijay Saxena as first year student in Physics lab, he just looked at him closely and called him.Without referring to roll call register, he exclaimed with certain degree of conviction,"But, you look like Ajay Saxena's brother...."

Morale is - I confess- my observation and recognition power is very myopic.

==============================================================

I hope your observation power is not that bad.

You must have noted down that solitary excuses I could present for non-recognizing junior Saxena was , 'I was preoccupied'.

You might ask, where was I preoccupied ?

That was June 13, 1983, when India was playing against Australia at Nottingham,whose forests, once upon a time, were known for Robin Hood.

Surprises , surprises...the Australians had decided to drop Lilli and Thompson from their team. Had they gone mad ? Do you imagine today's Indian team where Zahir and Bajji , dropped from the team , if they failed to take wicket in one or two matches ? No sir, that was always Australia. They won't recognize past glory for combating on present day. Agreed that you guys formed the

formidable opening bowling pair in 1975, but you played badly in first match against Zimbabwe. So, they were cooling their heels in dressing room.

But we Indians always known for respecting venerated names. We were awestruck by his batting, just because his name was Chappell. For rest of the world, he was better known as 'under armed bowler' because he bowled last ball under-armed against New Zealand in one of the one days two years back ( as per the instruction of the captain who happened to be his 'another' glorious brother), but for India our bowlers were simply enthralled because he was Chappell. It did not matter that he was just a shadow of his more illustrious brothers - Greg and Ian .Traver Chappell opened the innings You might be curious to know how many centuries that Chappell had scored in his International Cricket ( i.e. one days and test matches) life ? Believe me, that number is 'uno'- he scored just one century. That was against India at Nottingham on 13 June 1983.Yes, sir, I am talking out that match. By the

time, Ajay Saxena, Baweja , Roy and Uprit took Junior Saxena to Khoka , the time they were treating him with Milk cake, precisely , at the same time, I was listening in frustration, how artfully Trevor Martin Chappell was milking the Indian bowlers.As such , Kapil Paji scalped Wessels in initial overs, just for five. But after that captain Kim Hughes and Chappell took the score to 155.

Since it was the last exam, Baweja proposed the guys to show Junior Saxena a movie in one of the Kurukshetra theatres.You might think that arranging some bicycles would not have any problem since most of the Haryanvi might have left . But the fact was, it did not matter, since most of the Haryanvis did not have bicycle. They in fact hardly needed it. We used bicycle to venture out to city and come back to the hostel after fulfilling hearts and tummy's content. Haryanvis went to city on rikshaw and from there , they boarded on the buses for their respective towns.When they traced the path back, they would get rikshaw at bus stop and come back to the hostel. That was all. So, that was the last exam. Everyone went to city.Even those, who had early morning train next day, had gone to adorn one of the movie theatres in city.But it was Baweja's knack to secure and arrange the bicycles. However, at the Nottingham, the other Haryanvi was not able to secure wickets and restrain flow of runs to a respectable limit. As such, only three players scored - Travor

Chappell, Kim Hughes and Graham Yellop.But the score had crossed three hundred mark and it stopped at 320.It was meaningless that Kapil Paji took five wickets.However, if you look at the score card today, it looked slightly preponderous that Ravi Shastri sent down just two overs and part time bowler- Patil was used for six overs.

Anyway, when I went to mess for the last supper of first year, I did not find many guys who could relish the importance of 'Last Supper'.In fact,I asked Darshan Lal, if dinner would be served that evening.

"Khana taiyar hai ji (Food is ready)." He said,"But no one is there to eat."

Unlike the match on June 9, all the other matches were on expected lines. West Indies against Zimbabwe, England against Pakistan and New Zealand against Sri Lanka were all firmly in command. They dismissed their opponents cheaply. Sadly, this match was also on expected line to certain extent. However, I expected some fireworks from India. I took the transistor at mess.Though Saxena told me many a times not to carry the transistor outside the room, it was one of those days, when all the rules were relaxed.

"Is this Saxena's transistor?" Two Biharis, two 'Rajivs', Rajiv Mishra and Rajiv Yadav were sitting with me.

"Yes", I replied.

"What is the score?"Rajiv Yadav asked.

"320." I replied. "Too much. What will India do ? Problem is Gavaskar is not playing too."He replied.

"What ? Gavaskar? Not playing?Why?"I was shocked.

"God knows.Kapil Dev is Jaatu Haryanvi.He knows better."

But that underlined the guts of Haryanvi Kapil.Without bothering about reputation and past glory, just like Australian, he did something which was best for his country. After the world cup, there were many theories why Gavaskar did not play those two matches which India lost.The theory floated that he was not 'fit'.But I personally felt that he was 'dropped'.Though it was not less than bombshell,that was logical also.Even in those matches which he played in that World cup, his contribution was scanty.He looked sort of, out of place in one day squad.Would you like to see the scores of the 'Greatest

Sportsperson of the Century- voted in sometimes back concluded CNN - IBN poll? Those interesting figures would pop up your eyes -

First Match (Vs West Indies) – 19 runs in 44 ball

Second Match (Vs Zimbabwe) – 4 runs in 11 balls

Third and forth match – dropped from the team

Fifth Match (vs Zimbabwe) – 0 in 2 balls

Sixth Match (vs Australia) – 9 runs in 10 balls

Semi Final (vs England) 25 in 41 balls (highest score)

Final(vs West Indies) 2 runs in 12 balls

Ok, let us come back to the match.Shastri (who played at number 10 in first match) and Srikkanth started the Indian innings.Till the time, I was on dinner table and 15 min slot of commentary was allotted to India's match, everything looked good. Shastri and Srikkanth were negotiating confidently the bowling of Lawson and Hogg. So, where did the plot go wrong? Once I left the mess table and went back to the room ...

As such , 320 was mammoth score. It was certain that sooner or later,

India would bend, buckle and crumble under the pressure. But the way they capitulated , was really horrendous..

He was the second change bowler.The name was Ken MacLeay.

"Never heard of" , I heard you saying.

What exactly did he do ? He scalped six wickets in the bargain of 39 runs.

The time, when Baweja and company was watching and enjoying Jayaprada dancing in the tune of Jitendra in one of the Luxurious theatre of Kurukshetra , I was tuned to another dance, which Indian team was performing in the spellbound tune of Ken Macleay. The movie and Indian Innings finished almost same time..But while Baweja and party had satisfaction of "Paisa wasool" writ large on their faces, I was appalled by pathetic performance by the Indian team.The team was folded on just 158. Kapil Praji top scored with 40 run in 27 balls.

*************************************

Sabere waali gaadi se chale jayenge….”(we will go by morning tain)

“Don’t scream yaar.If you want to go , go.But please let us sleep.”
That was precisely what Saxena uttered to Pradeep Rawat and “Daddu” Prince, when they came early morning to say good bye to us.He and “Daddu” Rajoria, were traveling by Jhelam Express Other guys were so tired that it was tough to bid even good bye to them with eyes kept open.Another noxious side effect was, the plan to start early for Chandigarh went South.
Did I say 'plan' ? Sory , sorry.It was a false cal.Time is not right to raise the curtain..Not yet...Sorry for premature exposure....
As usual, Atul Uprit woke up early in the morning.There was an extra cot in Roy’s room, which was spare since Rajoria migrated to room 210.Ajay Saxena brought it in our room and joined it with his cot.That was a nice arrangement for junior Saxena but my cot was pushed up to the door.That means, the door could not be opened without my cot being disturbed.First, “Daddu” Prince kicked the door early in the morning.
“Abhi tak so rahe ho kya (Still sleeping)? Hen Hen , hum log chale…(we are going) Thakur, tu bhi so raha hai(Thakur , you are also sleeping?) .Abe tu to movie nahin gaya tha (You did not go to the movie last night ..)”
Atul alone went outside to say some nice whispering bargain words to them.Others were still sleeping like logs.

*********************
=====
Starting the journey late had its own advantage.We got extra time to persuade Baweja to join us, but he did not buzz.
“But Baweja, why are you not coming ? “
“I am not going to Bhopal either.” The angry young man roared.
“Precisely.Come with us.What is there in Bhiwani ?”That was desperate last ditch effort to persuade him.I took him to one corner.
“What is the matter Baweja?You know, we have already decided to make a most economical arrangement.Don’t worry too much about expenditure.”
“Paise ka sawal hi kahan uthataa hai mere bhai (Where is the question of bucks , my brother)?” Baweja replied,”I am annoyed with the way they asked me – Chalanaa hai to chal, koi manayegaa nahin tujhe (If you want to come, then come.No one will request you )…Is this the way to ask a room mate or your friend ?”
“Baweja,forget it "
"Yaar.See, I am requesting you.Well, if you are not going , I’ll not go."
”tu jaa yaar.(You go , Pal)” He pushed me, “why altering your plan due to my problem ? "
"No ???" I was expecting a pause, a hesitation, a fraction of cogitation.But I got a bowlers back drive like a bullet.
“No, Have fun..”
Baweja was slightly touchy.It required little delicacy to handle his mood.But that day, he was simply pissed off. He said ‘No’ since the plan was floated and discussed.Atul tried a lot to persuade him since last week or so. In fact, after the second raid, Baweja became more adamant, edgy and little sentimental.
That day, he helped us in packing .He carried some of our bags to mess , called therikshaw. But he did not go.
Sometimes, I felt that I need another birth to understand an enigma, whose name was Baweja….
*******************************************************************
So, the number - SIX ...
Six guys at last started their journey for Chandigarh six hours behind the schedule(if there existed any,not sure).Six ? yes, if count and include myself - If I counted, including myself, we were six. Ashok Kumar Kakkad, Atul Uprit , Sanjay Roy , Saxena brothers and yours truly.
That was a hot summer afternoon. Mansoon might have hit elsewhere, but India is a big country.The trip from Pipli to Chandigarh in summer afternoon, that too in Haryana Roadways crowded bus- just think of it and you will sweat. The steel roof, steel floor steel walls of bus , all were good conductor and capicitor of heat energy. In the name of air conditioner, you could open the window and fresh air alongwith the dust would blow in. Even though the
traffic was normal, the number of guys in standing would match with number of fortunate once sitting on the seat.Though we did not get seat immediately , but after Ambala, we were definitely sitting, though not exactly in the adjacent or nearby seats but some scattered around the bus..
However, as the bus approached near Chandigarh and and lot of guys got down by then, we six sat together.
“Where will we stay in Chandigarh?”
“Anywhere, where could stay economically.” Atul replied.
“But comfortably.” Kakkad added.
Both the points were valid - but unfortunately, contrast to each other.We were student, traveling with our own saving. So economy would always take the precedence. However, why were we traveling ? To have little fun .But if economy were in back of our mind, could we live comfortably ?
It seemed both could never marry .But we stayed Chandigarh, economically and comfortably.
How ?
***************

Flashback –
That was just one month back.I was in Chandigarh for Roorkee Engineering exam.
If you guys remember, when it was time for filling up IIT JEE form, we were writing our first semester exam.I could not fill up the form, since it required Father’s signature.By the time I sent it home and it came back, the last date was over.
See, those were not the days of courier services or speed mail.Probably I could have made it in time,if I had known about it a little early.But ok, it was not in my fate to appear in JEE even once , so that was all.
When it came to Roorkee, I did the smart but practical thing. I pull out the RECK admission form from my bag, located father’s signature..Then hold it on the glass of window, where sun light was coming from opposite direction, put the Roorkee Application form on top of that .Now, father’s signature was visible .I simply traced it.
Now , today many of you guys might tell the Roorkee was not worth of that much trouble.In fact, many of our batch mates had even offer for Roorkee but they preferred to join RECK, mostly, because they were not getting good branches.It was true that Roorkee had lost much of its shine over the years, but my elder brother always challenged me about Roorkee and that was something I had to try.
Well, my centre for Roorkee exam was Chandigarh.
Jugraj, the room mate of Chhabda and Tilak Raj, was also appearing for exam.He saw my application form and exclaimed,”Oh, your centre is DAV? Mine is also DAV.”
He briefed me about how to reach DAV and said at the end,”Ok, see you at DAV.”
I knew that D.A.V. college was Kapil’s college. Forget about Roorkee entrance, I was rather thrilled to see the ground where he would practiced before his induction to Indian team.
Just few days back, there was a bomb blast at Chandigarh Bus stand.The trouble days had just begun.So, when I got down, my initial reaction was, to get away from bus stand.It was interesting to see the buses from many states . There were PEPSU buses, which had the symbol of flying horse painted on them.There were green with yellow strip buses of DTC.There were buses from Himachal roadways and then, there were buses from Haryana Roadways.I was just fascinated .After the ISBT in Delhi, that bus stop looked quite mesmorizing.
“Trng, trng”, just observing me looking here and there, one rikshaw wala came and asked,”Where do you want to go saab?”
Where did I want to go ? I myself did not know.And as you know, in India , in any city, be it Jabalpur, Raipur, Bhopal , Indore or Jhumritalaiya – if you leave it to rikshawwala, they would take you to some luxurious hotel.
He took me to some remote hotel, where the charge was Rs. 120/- per day.
I had just Rs. 250/- in pocket and I had to stay for two days. And I would have to have budget for food , local transport and return ticket as well.
“Two hundred Rupees deposit”.The clerk on the counter said.
So, I was left with fifty rupees.
I did not have any other option , but to search for a different hotel after checking in that hotel.I did not have any time on the following day since I had to write two papers , one in morning , one in evening.
So, instead of concentrating on paper the next day, I had to search for another hotel, just to live for another day. I was just wandering about. Asking for the rates here and there.Four five guys were sitting under a tree, chewing paan.
Mostly, in India, those bunch of guys are huge resources of local information.I explained my situation.
“But why do you want to leave that hotel?” One of them suspected.
“It is costly.” I was a shy alright, but now it was a situation for survival.I had to tell them the truth.
“Where are you from ?”
“I am from M.P.” I said.
“M.P.? Then why are you here ? “ one of them got suspicious.
“No, I mean, I want appear in engineering entrance exam.” I was not sure even if they heard of the name of Roorkee.
“You said you are a student.What do you study.”
“I am studying in an engineering college.”
“Huh, you study in an engineering college and you are appearing for the entrance test of an engineering college.Sorry , please tell us who you are.Otherwise, we can not help you.”
“Believe me.That is true.” Then I explained them that Rorrkee was the much reputed college.That it was the first engeering college in India and it was a prestigious college.
“So your college in not prestigious.Which college is that?”
“No, it is not like that .But Roorkee is … I mean a prestigious college.”
“Where do you study now?”
“Kurukshettar.” I tried to match their accent.
That was a mistake.They grew more suspicious.
“You said you are from M.P.But your accent does not seem like the guys from M.P.It is more like western U.P.In fact, it does not even seem to cross Haryana boarder.Would you mind coming to police station?”
I had no other option, but pull out my identity card. Just looking into that convinced them immediately.They directed me to Bharat Seva Sangh.
I can’t blame those guys.The trouble time had just begun and Chandigarh was rocked by a bomb blast some days back.
Now, you might ask , what happened to my Roorkee exam.Before I wound up , I would like to narrate what happened next day.
Next day, first thing I did was, checked out early morning from the hotel , since check out time was 11 O’Clock, shifted to Bharat Seva Sangh and then went to D.A.V., as per Juggu’s direction.
I found Juggu at the exam centre, attired in sky blue shirt and dark blue jeans, looking fresh and raring to go.
“There is the sitting arrangement.” He pointed a number of boards, arranged side by side, where printouts of the the sitting arrangements were pasted.
I searched once , twice and thrice- my number was not there.
“Juggu, my number is missing.”I panicked.
“What ? Inform immediately to centre head.But let me check.Show me your admit card.Let me check”
He looked closely at my admit card,”Thakur.You have come to a wrong place.Your centre is D.A.V. school.This is D.A.V. college.Rush….rush… you still have tome.You can make it…”
As per Murphy’s law, whenever things go against you, you would not find any aid.I could not see any rikshaw near by, no auto..I just ran on the street, asking the guys here and there, where was D.A.V. school.It was not so near. Ultimately I got a rikshaw.By the time, I reached the centre, I was 25 minutes late.If I were late by another five minutes, I would not have allowed to go in.
When I reached to my seat huffing and puffing, sardaar invigilator went outside and hawled,”Paani laana ji jara, thanda thanda paani…ek candidate ko chahiye….(Please bring the water.Cold water. One candidate needs it iimediately)”
You can well imagine how I fared in the exam.To be frank, I was not prepared at the first place.These kinds of exam require special prepapration.That is possible only when you are in school.When you are in a hostel, that too, in another engineering college, it is absolutely difficult, if not impossible. I conclude that Juggu was was exceptional..period.....
************************************************************************

Back to present –
So, that was how we landed up in Bharat Seva Sangh.It was economical and comfortable.
As such Bharat Seva Sangh was a nice arrangement.The rooms were clean, the bathrooms were clean, the utensils for the dinner were clean.The only problem was... We had to have dinner in time,we could not go out after nine in the evening and we had to follow the strict discipline of the Ashram.That included don't cry, don't laugh..., sit cross legged on floor, observe silence while eating, cleaning of utensils and place after dinner , not to venture around meditation room, if not interested, cleaning the room before leaving .Of course, MaCho and Bacho (abusive words) were banned.No doubt, whenever Begalis went for any public sector exams, they used to stay Bharat Seva Sangh in Delhi.
Next day morning, Kakkad propose one thing,"We stayed comfortably here.It does notlook nice if we depart just like that.We should donate some money to the Ashram..."
How much? Rs. 10/- per head was added to 60/-.
We packed our bags , came down,Roy went to the Registrar, talked something in Bengali and then grinned.
He came back with the money in hand.
"What is the matter?" Kakkad asked.
"He said, they don't accept money from students.They accept money only from Grihastha (family person) or those, who earn."
Atul rolled his sleeve ,"Come with me .Let me see."
He went with Roy and talked to the registrar.He tried to convince him that it would not be any burden on us and we were contributing as our offerings.
The Registrar thought a little , then said, "Ok, let Maharaj comes.Whatever he decides, we accept ."
"Where is he now ?"
"He is in meditation."
"How much time will it take ?"
He looked at the clock then said ,"another half an hour."
Believe it or not, we waited there patiently.
When he came, Registrar told him the the fact, he called all of us inside the chamber.
Then he said,"I hope you understand that it is not a hotel.It is Bharat Seva Ashram.You are all students ?"
"Yes", Atul said,"Please don't take it otherwise.It is our small contribution for the maintenance of the Ashram.We are just students, so we could contribute only..."
He interrupted, "Got it.Nice, very nice.It will be nicer if you guys develop a sense of helping any needy person....."
That was the beginning of forty five minutes long lecture.
But again, believe it or not, we listened to whatever he said , siting cross legged in front of him without showing any sign of discomfort.
They accepted the money at the end and gave us receipt too.
************************************************************************
I don't know, why Ajay Saxena insisted in watching "Himmatwala" to be added in the list of 'To Do' items in Chandigarh.
And he was getting support from Sanjay Roy.
I was alarmed.
I did not reveal directly that I did not want to step in cinema hall because of ‘some reason’. I knew, there was no point in playing the "Bin" in front of "buffalos".I would rather tried to divert their attention ,"Hey Saxena!Liste buddy.You can watch Himmatwala or Rikshawala or whatever , in Bhopal also.Don't you ? There are many interesting things to see in Chandigarh. Abhi tumne dekha hi kya hai (What have you seen so far)? "
"Ok, we will see everything.But we will see Himmatwala also." He said,"Tell me where will we go ?"
"There is a nice lake ... Sukhna lake..."
There Saxena laughedHe kept on laughing.Roy also joined him.Kakkad just smiled.
"What is so funny?" I asked.
"Are we in Chandigarh to see lake?"
"What is wrong in that? It is three miles long."
"We have much bigger lakes in Bhopal . Chhota Talab and Bada Talab..If
You want, this time , you get down at Bhopal, stay with us, we will show you those bigTalabs.I think, we cn skip lakes and go to 'Himmatwala'.What else ?"
"There is a Rose Garden."
"How nice.Yes, we wil go to Rose Garden.Have a quick round. And then go to 'Himmatwala'. What else ?"
"There is a 'Rock Garden'."
Before Saxena could say anything and Roy support him, Kakkad
declared,"Let us go to 'Rock Garden'."
Nek Chand never thought that one day, liking of Saxena and Roy would rock his dream Rock Garden. Rock Garden was built with the crumbs of broken clay utensils , industrial wastes , plastics.Just imagine, it took sixteen long years to that fellow to make his dream realized.And Roy and Saxena moved around and appreciated his creation of industrial wastes and broken china clay,stones/

“Wow, great, nice…Just look at it….Chha gaye…Simply great….” They kept on saying and moved like a whirlwind.Even they completed the photo session in no time.From end to end, it hardly took sixteen minutes !

There came the declaration,”Yes, Nek Chand and his Rock Garden is simply great.... astounding ... fabulous ...There is no doubt about that.Now it is time to proceed for ‘Himmatwala’.”
By the time they were busy in moving around like top, my mind was working like mixure to churn out the counter plan to pull the wind out of the ‘Himmatwaala’ plan. Scuttling it was need of the hour.Attack was the best form of defense .
“Andha Kanoon” I shouted.
“What ? What ‘Andha Kanoon’.” , Saxena was surprised by the counter attack
“Nothing, if we have to spend three hours in picture hall, then why ‘Himmatwala’ ? Let us go to ‘Andha Kanoon’”
“What is there in ‘Andha Kanoon’ ? “ Roy joined , obviously in support of Saxena.
“What is there ? Amitabh , Amitabh and Amitabh. And what is there in ‘Himmatwala’? Jitendra and that thigh girl what is her name – Sridevi – and their ‘Thumka’ And Kadar Khan’s dialogue... That’s all.” , I kept my blitzkrieg on. The relentless bombing soften the target.
“But, in ‘Andha Kanoon’, Amitabh’s role is very limited. Rajnikant is the main hero.Amitabh is on the screen just for half an hour.” Vijay Saxena came openly to defend his brother.
“So what ? In that half an hour, Amitabh sings two songs ,performs one murder with perfection, that too in court room. What else do you want ?”
“Well, Thakur sahab, it is better that we go to ‘Himmatwala’ and you go your Amitabh ,Amitabh and Amitabh’s ‘Andha Kanoon’.We will meet at the bus stand.”
“Perefect.Just give me the transistor.”I could not hide my delight.
“What ?” Roy frowned,”You are going to listen commentary in cinema hall?”

Gosh, he figured it out that it was the day when India was playing to West Indies.
“Better, let us have lunch and then we will go to Rose Garden.” Kakkad decided, “No Amitabh , no Jitendra or thigh girl…..”
The Rose Garden offered something better to Saxena and Roy.In that largest Rose Garden of Asia, situated I sector 16, offered more than sixteen hundred varieties of roses.This time, the visit did not last for sixteen minutes.They were mesmorized by diffent variety and colours and used their black and white camera to the fullest extent to capture the images of those colourful flowers.If some beautiful girl was passing by, they delayed the clicking till last moment when the girl came nicely in photo frame
Thank God, they had forgotten everything.
***********************************************************************
You might be just wondering , why I lingered on the trivial fight of "Andha Kannon" vs "Himmatwala".I should have stick on the topic which I started at the top.Time and again ,
you might feel that probably Cricket was the last thing in my mind.
But diverting from the topic was not without any reason. I just wanted you guys to take some deep breath and go to rest room if you want, or smoke a cigarette outside in cool air before facing a marauder, murderer, executioner whose name was Vivian Richards - Sir Vivian Richards, as he was known in later years.

I still remember Kakkad's comment about his batting ,"When he plays, he will play. His getting out was always 'all of a sudden'." Probably, that was the best remark I ever heard about his batting.Till he was at the crease, he would totally dominate and decimate any kind of bowling - spin, fast, super fast, in swing, outswing, late swing,   cutter, flighted .floater, flatter, flipper,googly, chinaman, armour or anything. You would be clueless, how to get him out.There was no pattern to set a ploy - otherwise, he won't be "Sir". As Kakkad mentioned, his getting out was marked with an event, mostly associated with surprise and with an element of relief.If someone dropped his catch, he would surely be dropped in the next match, since Richards rarely gave a chance, second chance was a distant thing.

In the dark evening of Chandigarh, I was listening with dismay the murderous batting of Richards.It was India's bad luck that Greenidge fell cheaply and Richards came to the crease early on.He completed a century stand with Haynes then another about three quarter century partnership with Lloyd.When he was out on 119, the score was 240.That meant , half the contribution came from his bat.It did not matter that West Indian Innings,just three other fellow could two digit mark.They scored 282 in allotted sixty overs.
What were others doing? Just laughing on the streets of Chandigarh, commenting on the hair style and dresses of girls, taking some photographs I murky light, which they themselves knew that it would come .Then suddenly they realized that India was not doing well, they kept on asking for score every now and then and giggling.
***************
I can not forget that dinner in Chandigarh.
That was nothing, but a road side hand cart (Thela') near Chandigarh bus stand.
What would you normally expect at road side 'Thela'? Probably you may imagine anything from Samosa to puri to Parotha to even Dosa.
No, it was plain 'roti'.
Yes, that fellow was selling plain roro , not the 'Tandoori one, but simple tawa style,
without any ounce of oil or grease.That was fresh and hot from tawa, in front of your own eyes.Alongwith that, he served traditional popato subji without curry.Don’t tell me when you are hungry even the ordinary stuffs looked sumptuous.
It was really delicious.By that time, Mohinder Amarnath and Vengsarkar were playing and hopes were not dried.The score had crossed hundred run marks and both did some damage control and consolidating the innings.Only if those lofty hopes sustained for a while. Afte dinner, we were wndering on the streets of Chandigarh.That was just aimless walk.The streets were cal and quite.The transistor was playing guitar master Sumeet Ganguli's tune on famous Gazal,"Hungama hai kyon barapa?"
Forty five minutes later, when the turn for India's match came, 'Hungama' had happened.
India had lost Patil and Yashpal whereas Vengasarkar was injured, never to return not only in this match, but the whole tournament.As usual, Baba Amarnath was rock solid and Kapil Praji was playing frentically.Now, the score 282 looked slightly far but not impossible.
*********************************************************************
That was a late night bus . Still, it was jam packed.At that time, the match was at the last stage.India had all but lost the match.There was no scope for any recovery or resurrect.
Still, I had hope against hope.When we boarded on the bus, it was eight down.Vegsarakar was injured , so there was no chance of his batting again.Soon it was all over.My all the enthusiasm about going to Simla was deflated.Though , it was true that right from the beginning, I did not have high hopes from Indian team.It was quite obvious that Australia and West Indies were going to make it to Semi Final from group B.India lost two consecutive matches - in the hands of mercurial Australia and mighty West Indies.Everything was on expected line.Still, defeat was defeat, it could not bring any joy . It alway brought tears in those days when people waited for the event like world cup for months.Not sure about it nowadays when teams are playing three hundred days international Cricket in a year ..
The driver switched off the lights.Those who were sitting on back seats, some long bearded guys, the started the demand of "Quawaali" from driver.

Quawaali ? That was strange for me.I thought he was going to play some Hindi Film songs. If it were new, it would be "Mammy ne meri tumhen chaay pe bulaya hai (my mom has called you for a cup of tea)".If it was old, it might be Lata's serious "Yun hasraton ke daag Muhabbat main dho liye (This the way I washed the desire of love)..."If he were Amitabh fan, like most of us , then anything from "Zanzeer" to "Shakti" would do. Even "Naastik" ,"Mahaan" or "Pukar" was passable.However, not even in my dream, I imagined that the guys demanded for "Quawaali" and the driver would comply.Not only that, that was not some famous Quawaali, like "Bhar de jholi" or "Dhalta Suraj, it was completely out of syllabus.Other five were trying to sleep, but Quawaali was not "Lori".For me, I hardly slept.Still, trying to absorb the pain of recently concluded match.
************************************************************************
“Chhod do Ji....(Leave us sir)”
I know, you guys need a break a here.After all, the saga of World Cup was mind boggling and you guys were still reeling under the two consecutive losses.
I Got it ... No You got it..
Let us enjoy the break . For a while.I am not going to mention anything about the world cup.There were interesting things around.
Simla, Simla, Simla....
No sooner than we got ou from bus, we could feel the chill of Shimla.
Yes, it was cold.Unexpectedly chilli.The first thing we did , was, opened up the bags and pulled out the sweaters.
"Economical and comfortable" was the mantra.And we were in Shimla.That too, it was well inside the summer vacation.As soon as we step inside the clerk on the other side of counter would say,"Full hai ji.Jagah nahin hai.Yeh to season hai.(No vacancy. This is season time)".It might sound a little rude, but honestly,we could dare to go only at those places , since we were observing the rule. At last , we got a room near Mall road.
The room was barely furnished but who cared.It had a carpet.There, the tired guys spread their bedsheet and slept.
=======================================================================
It was morning, very early morning.
We were strolling at the Mall road and it looked different.... Different than what we heard of.. Different than what we imagined.. Different than what we found it a couple of hours later.No, at that time, it was calm.It was nice t see the clean , polished wooden shops and emporiums.The windows were made of the glass .I learnt the term "window shopping" many years later, but the concept was the same.
We would come back to Mal road again and again but let u go a little ahead.
Wow! Just look at the church.It was Christ Church.
Jakhu was on the top of the hill. So far,I have seen many places.At the top of the hill, you will always find a temple of incarnation of Durga.That was different.
And Lakkad bazaar ?Yes Lakkad bazaar…
Weather was excellent.Even the sun shine looked to have a shade lighter than that of the plains.We kept on strolling at the mall road.And in the afternoon, we decided to scale Zakhu.
Temple on the top of the hills, lots of monkeys hovering around – that was a usual seen you may find anywhere in India.However, the climbing was not through staircase or winding narrow ‘pagadandi’.It was a nice tar road.If you drive you can go to the top of the hill by car.
The acclivity was sharp, the monkeys were fearsome.It was cold , chilli and windy atmosphere.When we reached to the top, it was a sense of satisfaction.
Wow ! What a sceninic beauty .The panaromic view all round, the Viceregal Lodge and other buildings, green pastures and snow-capped peaks – you guys know it all. You might want to know, if I had any wish, asked for anything inside. I don’t want to say much.Only thing is – I got much much more than I asked. What I asked was what was the size of ‘Jholi’ (bag) of my imagination. All I could wish for was not beyond ‘graceful exit’ but I never thought of ‘grand ending’, not even in my wildest dream.
Over the years, once in after every four, I wish to the same Jakhu temple and ask the same thing.But not sure, probably, I am not that pure and innocent anymore, whose voice Hanumanji will listen. May be, probably, my "jholi" of expectations had grown after that from "Graceful exit" to something higher, which Hanumanji feels, Indians like me do not deserve since we clap for a team , whose performance hardly meets to the potential.
*************************
What did we buy from Mall of Shimla.
“If you want to buy some souvenirs” Kakkad said, “It should be the walking stick.”
We went inside one of the emporiums in the Mall Road.Different guys were looking for different things – Carpet to Himachal silk to handicrafts to Shilajeet to herbal tea …
“What you guys are searching for?” Sales girl asked with business smile plastered on her face.
“NNNothing…Some hand carved wooden arts, like toys, show piece and walking stick..”
“They are at that corner”.
We saw the price tag first, before admiring the elegance of walking stick and came out one by one, silently, avoiding the the gaze of sales girl.
Well, we got some good walking sticks near Lakkad Bazar. The prices were of the size of our pockets and they looked quite natural.
We were sitting near the Christ Church. Probably Bhutto and Mrs. Gandhi must have visited that place during Simla summit after Indo Pak war. Rudyard Kipling might have inspired while walking up and down in those Mall.
My eyes were searching the railway station of Simla which was shown in “Mukaddar Ka Sikandar” but what was he looking for ?
“Yaar, I am looking for a love tree which was shown in Rajesh Khanna’s film ‘Kudrat’”.
Then he went on to explain the love scene of Rajesh Khanna and Hema Malini in the film, the burning house and Parveen Sultana’s ‘Hamen tumse pyar kitna’ song.
There, I revealed a teeenager’s dream to another teenager.
“Kakkad, let me earn some money , then we will make a film.Woul you like to work with Amitabh?”
He startled.”Who will be the heroin?”
“No, it will be a unique film.There will be no heroin.”
“You can not make a film like this.No heroin? Who will go to see that movie?”
“That is a challenge.I want to break to the set patterns of Hindi cinema.There would be no heroin.You pitted against Amitabh.”
“That is not possible.You will have to keep heroin.If not for dancing or getting wet in rain, then at least as a mother, as sister as teacher.Well, I may work but Amitabh will not work without a heroin.”
So the movie was shelved and buried there, near Mall road, near Post Office, near Christ Church.
===============================================================
Let there be no confusion. It was a toy train. No, it was not luxurious state of art, royal, Shiwalik Express, it was a passenger train.It was supposed to take six hours from Simla to Kalka.Since it was a passenger train, you could always assume that you would travel with apple vendors , carrying the sack of apples which were heavier than them, poor students in cheap rubber slippers torn books tugged under their arms ,businessmen and some penny saver tourists like us.
Well, no doubt, it was an august ride. It was really awesome. Just watch the landscapes of majestic lush green Himaliyan forest of pine, oak , deodar trees. Only complain was, the speed was too slow. Hardly 15 to 20 km per hour.In that case, you always feel challenged. I rushed towards the door.
"Where are you going ?" Kakkad asked.
"Let me run along the railway trek." I declared.
Kakkad pulled me back,"Abe, Bhutani ke.You want to ..."His sentence was incomplete and there was a complete dark inside for another two to three miniutes.When the tunnel ended, he explained,"See? And you wanted to go outside...Every now and then , you will find a tunnel , some short and some long.And we are sitting on the last bogie.If you try to circumvent the tunnel from outside and reach to the train again, you are gone.Better you seat..." No sooner did he complete the sentence, the train entered into another tunnel.
When it came out, it was passing on a bridge.
Tunnel and bridges, tunnel and tunnels... .For the record, there were 103 tunnels (as Roy informed us later) and around 950 bridges….forest on both the sides.And when you feel that train had gained some speed, you would find a station right over there.
It was not that we were not talking.Our conversation was full of words like
,"traction, power, energy , momemtum, cantilever, atmospheric pressure, density, arches, flow , transmission , signal" etc. Then Atul saw the altitude from sea level at some small station was mentioned in Feet. He went on to convert it into Metres. Our co pessangers were listening to our talk with certain degree of amusement.One of them, some middle aged guy, enquired, "Are you guys engineers ?"
"No Sir" , Atul replied,"not yet.But some day, yes...We are in first year."
"Good", he replied" I am a Engineer and working in Kathgodam maintenance
division."
Those were the days, when some value was attached with engineers.Guys were not ashamed of announcing proudly and unabashedly that they were engineers.Rather, in any kind of journey, I found them rather they were itching to reveal it to co passengers.And the unfortunate part was, if they identify another fellow as engineer, the language of conversation suddenly turned from Hindi to English.
That turned me off.I was just looking outside the verdant , panoramic view of rhapsody.
He kept on euliging the work of Britishers done two centuries back while digging the tunnel.two centuries back ? I woke up suddenly.I asked with curiousity,"Sir, how old is that track ?"
He informed, "The first train was started at 1775."
"1775?Wow" I said, "that was 208 years old.You mean, from that time,it was this diesel engine ?"
"No" He announced with derision,"Diesel engine came in 1850.Before that it was steam engine only."
He continued with his story.Roy and Saxena kept on saying "Yeah, Yeah".Then he got up and picked up his coat,"I had to get down." Just out of habbit, Roy ulled out his small diary,"Can you please write down your address sir ?"
He said while obliging , " Well, it is not required.Whenever you guys have a chance to visit Kathgodam, just go to railway workshop and ask Kulwant Khanna. Every one knows me."
The train stopped at Kathgodam station and left.
Well, it was just a matter of surprise, nothing else.I asked,Roy, ,"The whole world knows that the first train in India was run at 1853 from Bombay to Thane and that fellow said,Simla Kalka train started at 1775."
Every one burst into laugher.Kakkad added,"And first diesel train started in 1850."
Beside the sleek rail services, the train stops at or run past Jabli, Dharampur, Barog, Solan, Salogra, Kandaghat and Taradevi, broad gauge terminates and the two foot six inch narrow gauge begins.
**********************
One heavy bag hanging on one shoulder, on the other hand, we had a hand carved walking stick… We were strolling with ‘Rajsi Chaal’ (Royal walk) in that Royal Garden with ‘Nawaabi Chhadi (Royal stick)” in one hand.
Moreover , there was restriction for plucking the flower or mango,spitting, throwing garbage here and there, playing Cricket, Football , Hockey, Kabaddi or Kho-Kho in main lawns, but there was no restriction in listening the commentary. And transistor was in my possession. Moreover, the match was against Zimbabwe, which was (supposed to be) tension free match.Agreed that they beat Strong Australia in first match and gave one or two anxious moment even to West Indies,but India had trounced them comprehensively in their earlier encounter .
************************
That was life.What else could I ask for ?
We were inside the Pinjore Garden .The date was June 18, 1983.
I don’t know why, the name Tunbridge was ringing in my ears since second World Cup.I don’t know, how , in the second world cup , I had the intuition that if India played a match in Tunbridge, then things would change dramatically for Indian team.Well, in second world cup, no match featuring India was scheduled at that place, but that day, in the current version of the World cup, India was pitted against Zimbabwe.
Did I shrugged off the the nightmare of two earlier defeat ? Oh God, please don’t remind
me.I was worried that we tried to forget it in Simla, but it should not be playing in the mind of the players.What if they lose some early wickets ? Oh God, please …Please.., India should not bat first.
**********************************
As per Murphy’s Law, that was what precisely happened.
Saxena brothers, Roy , Uprit – everyone was thrilled while walking on the cool,shaddy pathways which ran upto the creepers on the outer wall. A watercourse traipsing from level to level was sparkling in the sunlight. Tinkling fountains, luxuriant green lawns and murmuring watercourse, limpid pools, shady walks and colorful flowerbeds,Shady groves of bonsai mango trees ,, which had more mangoes than leaves – all at the mouth watering height – that too at the warm summer afternoon – ‘wah-wah’...
Tell me, what else do you want my dear ..!
That was enough for them.They had enough immunition in terms of black wand white reels of the camera.That was our last stop before returning to Kurukshetra.What else they needed ?
India won the toss and that Hayanvi Kapil decided to bat.Oh no…,And Vengsarkar did not recover from the injury against West Indies, Gavaskar was back in team.And if Gavaskar was in the team , then he would be one of the openers.And if he was one of the openers, then given by his record in the World cup, it would be tension time for you.And hey listen…he was out ….yes, he was out on the second ball of the match…
Baba Amarnath came to bat .Both the opening bowlers, Rowan and Curren were bowling beautifully.Time and again Srikkanth tried to break the shackle and missed .At last his agonizing innings came to an end tragically .He pulled a ball from Curren and miscued it.The ball ballooned in the air and Butchart ran for about thirty metres and took the catch.
Did I not tell you that Zimbabwe’s fielding was great , close to the greatest.
“Ha , Ha , Haaa !” Saxena brothers, Roy and Uprit were playing with the water near fountain and laughing.
They were still laughing when Baba Amarnath also fell on the same score , the age old Indian desease – fishing outside the of stump.
“Click, Click” – Now, the play birds were busy in clicking the photographs in different pose.
Oh, got it.Why wickets were felling like this.No, 25 metre band was not auspicious for India today.I immediately switched to 31 metre band.
“Thakur wanted.” Ajay Saxena shouted ,”Oye Thakur, come here , be with us.You will be lost.” Saxena shouted from about fifty metres away.
I was rushing to join them and in the meanwhile , Sandeep Patil got out.Same fishing,same pouching the catch by wicket keeper Houghton.
“Thakur, that’s right.Come let us have a photograph of we room mates.”
I felt like swing my leg and kick Saxena’s butt.
“Hey Come on.” and dancing, they went upto the water course.
“Come Thakur.”They kept a space for me.
I was not interested.I was just standing there.Junior Saxena jumped and stand at that place.
“Click” Roy clicked the camera.
“Howzad”, Zimbabwe fielders shouted and Yashpal Sharma was on his way to pavilion.
The score was five wickets down for seventeen runs.B.B.C. was magnanimous because other match was delayed .Now, the other match started and B.B.C. just switched to the other match.Before moving there, the commentator mentioned that lowest score for India in one day was 63 and at that time, top half of the team was in pavilion for a score of 17…..
It was a shock so profound that in the distant background the very first win against West
Indies looked grotesque . Zeal stifled, enthusiasm muffled.
......
   ..........
     ..............
“Hun, waiting for us … - Dhishung…”
Anitabh’’s back was on the wall, a noose was tied around his neck and he was pulled around , kicked and punched…
“Jeb se chhabi nikaalega…Haaan…Kya bola tha , darwaaja kholega
…hun…Dhishung…..(pull out the key from the pocket ... that was what he boasted .. will open the door... $#@ )
Kapil Dev came on the crease and took guard…
=============================================================
I don’t know how the next forty five minutes was passed.
The most agonizing moment in complete blackout. Did India crossed 63 or 50 or even 25 ?
At last the turn of India’s match came in round robin B.B.C. commentary India was seventy five for five.
“Huph….” That was a sigh of relief.
“Did you say anything?” Saxena asked.
“No , nothing.India crossed its minimum score mark.”
“And you are happy?” Roy laughed.
And Roger Binny got out .The score was 76.
I thought I would be irritated. But surprisingly, I was calm. India crossed its minimum score mark. Eventually , they would loss the match. Conclusion – what is left in the match? Better , laugh with them.
I tried to laugh , but chocked air could not come out of my lungs. I just coughed.
Roy laughed and Ravi Shastri got out.Gosh, that fellow scored just one run.
**********************
No, now I got the solution for the problem. If I don’t listen commentary, India is safe. The moment I got the commentary reached my ears, one or the other wicket would fall. I switched off the transistor.
Some boys were playing Cricket in nearby ground. I was not thrilled to see future Kapil.Why were they playing? Was there any future for Cricket in India ?
Silent transistor was solace at that point of time.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The grove of Bonsai mangoes was full of mangoes, warning board and 'shayary'(couplets).
So, when Roy pointed out to me,"Just look at this.",My initial reaction was ,"Yeah, nice mangoes."
"Oh no dummy" He pointing finger wavered towards targeted direction in an attempt to be more specific ,"Not Mangoes.Just look at this.What is written ?"
"Rs. 50 fine.That is for plucking or touching the mangoes.",I read out correctly.
"You pumpkinhead, I wanted you to read the finer prints ..Bah! look at that.. that.. a little above "
Oh , he wanted me to read the 'shayari'.As I mentioned, the grove was full of 'shayari' to underline and highlight the warning. Nice way tomblink lights around warning boards.
Anyway, I read out the warning which Roy had pointed out ,It was rather ‘Tukbandi’....
"Jahan main Kuchh log eise bhi hote hain.
Jo Mehfil main hansate hain aur tanhai main rote hain."
(There are some people in this world.Who laugh in parties, but cry when alone).
He said,"Got it ? Kuchh log eise 'hi' hote hain, jo mehfil main bhi rote hain and aur tanhai main bhi rote hain .(there are some people in this world like this.They cry in the party and cry when alone).Why are you so grumpy? Gam ko gale laga , jee khol ke hans...ek din...(accept the gloom, and laugh ... and laugh..)"
"Stop it...", I said,"Aur kitne gam ko gale lagana padega (how many times I need to embrass gloom)? Man bhar gaya is hansi se (got fed up with this laughter)... Kab tak khokhale kahkahe lagaoun (until when I need to laugh like this)? Kab tak (until when... ) ..?"
By that time, I sometimes, I switched on the transistor, then immediately switched it off. I did not want India to loss any further wicket. But was there any left? Hour long world news was on .B.B.C. followed it by sports news. At last , I mustered the courage and switched on .But no, I immediately switched off the transistor.Sometimes, I was afraid that the on-off knob would popped out in my hand.
We came out of Pinjore garden and headed towards the bus stop.There, I switched on the transistor.The commentary for New Zealand Sri Lanka were going on. Suddenly, it was interrupted and the co-ordinator announced, "Let us go to Tunbridge where Kapil Dev was heading for his century."
"What?" I could not believe in my ears. That was the danger of accidently discovering a exquisite diamond by a poor man on pathway. It was too good to be true. Probably,I misinterpreted what he said. I humbly admit that my English was poor. But no, he really meant what he said and what I understood.
Kapil was playing on 98 at that time. He nudged the ball gently for a single. On 99.I could hear clapping and roaring in the ground in anticipationThen in next over, he hit the ball and he and Kirmani ran for two .
Kirmani ? Yes, Kirmani was playing with him.India was eight down for about one seventy. As a strip teaser who puts her skirt down after showing something in flash, after his century B.B.C. immediately reverted back to New Zealand Sri Lanka match.
From Pinjore, we went to Chandigarh bus stop. Fuelled by fresh coal of enthusiasm,I was trying frantically to get some news- any new would do. At least, 'Khel Samachar' at some place. But as per Murpy's law, I was hitting all other radio station, who were broadcasting variety of the programs, from Krishi Jagat to classical Indian music.
We were waiting for the bus at Chandigarh bus stand. At last,I reverted back to B.B.C.
By that time, the turn for India's match came.
"What?" Eavesdropper Roy frown, "The match is not yet over."
"Kapil hit a century." I made a public announcement for the benefit of them.I don’t know why,it was rather loud and those , who standing around me set their gaze at me and the transistor.
"What ? Kapil hit a century ?" Now shocked Roy was equally blaring .
In that sports loving city of Chandigarh , one uncle approached me with his young son.
"What is the score?"
"226 for eight", Suddenly Kapil pulled and immediately I corrected ,"232 for eight."
"Gosh, who else played ?Amazing .. No ? When I was at home, India lost seven wickets. I thought ,Koi fayda nahin(it is o no use) , bachche ko ghuma ke late hain(let us go to the garden and play with kids).Who else played ?"
"Kapil hit a century and Madan and Kirmani hold the other end."

Still, I was not sure of Kapil's score. But was that required ?All of a sudden , Kapil looked like ubiquitous conjurer. His assiduity paid off.

Suddenly Kakkad signal us to board on the bus.We lifted our heavy bags,the 'Nawabi (royal) stick' of Simla and boarded on a Haryana Roadways bus, which was barely lit from inside.We got the seat. Still, there was sometime for bus to start.The suspense of Kapil's score was still looming in my mind..
=======================================================================
Goodbye Chandigarh….We will meet again and again.”Is Anjuman main aapko aana hai bar bar..Deewaro dar ko gour se pahchaan lijiye..(You will visit this garden again and again, recognize the doors and walls well)”

The bus was passing by "Tribune" newspaper's building.They had a giant display board , showing the main news. Most of the times, political headlines hit that display board. Sometimes, some bomb blast, sometimes, water dispute , sometimes what the prime minister says ....
That day it was showing something like 'Kapil'.I adjusted my spects again and again. No, that was not possible ,probably the number of my spectacles had changed. Ajay Saxena was sitting beside me.I asked , "Saxena, can you read it for me?What is written?something ..Kapil ...Not clear."
Saxena looked, squinted his eyes till his eyebrows joined , rubbed it again and said,"Sorry Thakur,it seems my eyesight has gone back. Sorry."
"What is the figure? Did you see 175?"
"Oh you also see it 175 ? But how is it possible?"
********************************
As Doordarshan used to exasperate in those years, ”Rukavat ke liye khed hai….Sorry for the interruption…”
With due respect, I would like to stat that – in the absence of any matching
performance over the years, that innings attained legendary status , ensconced almost like a folklore.So many stories are associated with that epic innings …soo many that I would like stop you here for a while .
That was one of the rarest day when B.B.C. television crew was on strike.If you watch any video of 1983 world, you won’t get any clip for that innings. In retrospect,even Kapil rued that it was never shown live and never recorded visually.
Some amateur Indian spectator had a video camera.He recorded part of the innings , single camera , single point shaky hands amateur recording.But Kapil paid him handsomely and bought his recording.
When India was five down for 17 runs, Srikkanth , as usual jovial Srikkanth was all relieved and lighthearted. He stepped out to phone his friend that the match was going to be over soon, so they could sneak out for dinner somewhere. Apparently , the friend was some girl friend, so he spent quite some time over the phone. In the meanwhile, India did not lose any other wicket so the guys in dressing room thought that it was Srikkanth’s bad luck charm in dressing room which had affected India’s fortune. When he returned, he was not allowed to enter by his team mates. He had to stay outside in cold for remaining part of the innings.
The pitch at the ground of Tunbridge was not exactly at the centre.On one side the boundary was so long that batsmen could run four runs before the ball touched the rope.On the other side, they could run hardly two runs for the similar effort. Zimbabwe wicketkeep Haughton later recalled that most of Kapil’s sixers were over long boundary.After reching his century, he called for a new bat, which had tapered shoulders,somewhat similar to baseball bat.With that he assaulted even more ferociously.
Ali Shah, one of the members of Zimbabwe team, recalled that at the close of the innigs, when Kapil was coming out of the ground, Gavaskar met him with a cup of water in the midway.It was a nice gesture for someone of Gavaskar’s stature.
===================================================================
Yes, Kapil slammed 175 ,studded with sixteen fours and six sixes. That was
announced at the "Akashwani" news at 8.45.By the end of the news, it also said India made 262 .That looked like a defendable total if not outright winning one. It was true that India rose up from ashes that evening and managed to stand up … barely stand up …
Zimbabwe innings began with a strong reply . They were some 40 odd with loss in frantic run chase.That was ominous. The bus was rushing in the darkness .By the time, the English news was closing, at around 9-15, it informed that Zimbabwe had lost two wickets and both of them were run out.
That brought some respite to me.
The voice of the news was intermingled with the profound snoring sound from the guys sleeping around me. They had a long day, starting from the toy train in Simla and then Pinjore and now, going back to Kurukshetra. Tomorrow, they had to get morning train , Jhelam , to go back home, sweet home.
I desperately rotated the knob from one corner to the other in the search of some news or comemntory. But as you know, in the running bus, the signals were not always strong.Even though it was short wave, I had to turn the direction of transistor constantly.
Still,everything was feeble and intermittent, just to add to bewilderment and trepidation ...Problem was, no news was good news. Zimbabwe was also scoring at brisk pace.
By the time bus halted at Ambala and I could tune the transistor again, it was a greater relief. Zimbabwe had lost six wickets and the score was just 113.
"What a relief" I thought.
But there was no respite , as I learnt when we got down from the bus , again at Pipli. The roller caster ride was still on.Curran was striving to emulate Kapil for Zimbabwe and they were some 180 for seven. Plenty of overs were at their disposal , plenty of time left. Those who were predicting ‘the match is over’ since morning were proved wrong again..
Ultimately , we reached Kurukshetra.Back to the hostel.
Zimbabwe were 225 for eight. Hardly forty runs separated them from the victory and dangerous Curran was still playing.
But overs seemed to be running out of them and sense of urgency was eminent.
Kapil praji was wicketless till that time. How poignant it was ! Praji , at least take one wicket. Strangely, "Yeh dil Mange more" was valid even in those days.
The sense of urgency sucked Curran .He pulled Madanlal towards longer boundary and Ravi Shastri took the catch.
Just one more wicket.... Come on... Madan , leave the last wicket for Kapil praaji.
And at the end, yes , it was a poetic justice. The last man Tricos. offered a return catch to Kapil and that was all over..
===============================================================
All over ? No...
Amitabh wringled with all his might and could manage to free himself from the tangling rope.He punched , kicked , boxed and blowed hard. panting , huffing and puffing… like a wounded tiger… and broke free ...
But still, he had to pull the key out from the pocket of Peter...
Key to the world cup....
Almost oblivious from the happening, Junior, Senior Saxena and Uprit were packing for next day's morning train...Jhelam Express....
==============================================================
(Contd)

The Arduous Train Voyages and Sindbad - I

2011-01-23T20:02:00.000-08:00

Voyage One – The First Mid Semester

“Ok, Tata,Bye Bye, Fir Milenge, Muskurate Raho, Horn Please….”

…….

“Ok, Tata,Bye Bye, Fir Milenge, Muskurate Raho, Horn Please….”

…….

“Ok, Tata,Bye Bye, Fir Milenge, Muskurate Raho, Horn Please….”

…….

(How do I hate to translate those lines even today - "Ok, Tata, Bye, Bye, We will meet again.Keep on Smiling, Horn Please ... All these captions were written behind Indian trucks on those days...)

No, Nooo , Noooo…listening the jingling, .Going through those familiar spine tingling

ordeals and observing the full set of glinting teeth of the Haryanvi week after week, who

were leaving for Karnal, Ambala , Sonipat, Jind, Panipat,Kaithal, Jagadari,Pehwa,

Bhiwani, Sirsa , Hisar, Rohtak, Mahendragarh,Narnoul, Faridabad,

Sisrouli,Nilokhedi,Faridabad, Gudgaonva – with bags in hand and spring in legs – I

thought I would go mad.. I was really peeved by those chortling Haryanvis. One of those

days, I would slap some Gupta or kick some Bansal or box some Yadav –

“Jo hogi dekhijayegi”.(Dare not to care about consequences)
Really, I was getting sick of all these melodramatic scene of shaking hands,

embracing, patting and waiving……

…Really sick …

Home sick…

*************************************************************

God, I heard about Mid Semester.I was made aware of , that was panacea for all the

problems

But where was the mid semester ?

When would it fall from sky ?

Probably on the last day of eternity ….

The reason for growing depression was, I was getting disappointing news from all

corners.

I heard that due to long strike and infinite cuts , it was as good as canceled.

One day, it was was almost closed, packed , sealed … ready to go to nowhere…

That day, Principal, Dr. BK Kaul came to the hostel. No big deal, he was the principal.

He could go any time, anywhere within the premises.

“Aapko bula rahe hain ji”.(Callig you , sir).
Arjun was standing at the door.

That fellow did a tremendous job. He not only conveyed the summon to us at 225, he

went each and every room to call all and sundry to walk down and assemble at Mess.

When we desended there after putting on passable decent dress, most of the in-mates had

occupied the space.

And with them, there we saw, our wardens , BK Koushik and Kachroo standing , with

heads down, shoulder dropping, just like school boys who got the punishment to stand

outside the class.

Why they were standing like this ? Because behind them, their “teachers”, Chief Warden Batra

and (??)( sardaar with thick glasses and staunch moustache ) ,evergreen M.S. Gill and Dr.

D VS Varma were standing.

But they also had defeat and fatigue writ large on their face as if their “class” had failed in exam.

Behind them , there you go….The “Head Master” Dr. B. K. Kaul was standing, tall, with

immaculate business suit , including nice tie and polished black shoe put on, eyes blazing

as if he was going to roast everyone in front of him.

“Oh boy, there is going to be Jalianwalla Baug firing”.I ruminated and stood at the back

row,shame faced , head making an angle of ninety degree with the rest chest (that was the

maximum bending I could do.Chin was scratching .the collar bone.).

The bombardment started.In his bombastic voice , Dr. B.K. Kaul shredded our

unprofessional attitude. His lashing tried to drive home a point or two. Something like

that, just coming out of the school did not mean that you got all the freedom. Getting

admission in Engineering college did not mean that you got fat salaried job. Then he

striked the iron when we were all flushed hot. Bunking the classes did not mean that

clearing the exam was child’s play. Then all of a sudden , he abruptly stopped his speech

and started asking , pointing each of them.

“Would you attend the class?” He asked Sanjay Goswami, who was sitting in the front

seat.

“Yes, Sir”.He said meekly.

“Regularly ?”He probed further.

“Yes sir” he said in even more feeble voice.

“Ok, what is your roll number ?”He asked and noted down in a piece of paper, which he

specially brought for that moment.

Then his roving spot light fell on those,who festooned the front row of mess chairs, one

by one.When his turn came , Naresh Yadav confirmed,”Yes sir, I’ll attend the classes

regularly.”

“Then why did you not attend it yesterday?” The conversation took another turn.

Naresh Yadav was clueless.

Then BK Kaul concluded ,”That was all I wanted to say.”

Just look at the brazenness of the guys. They clapped at the end of his speech as if some

road side magician had just finished the show.

Well, Dr. BK Kaul was unfazed. Then he asked ,”Any question?”

Santosh and few Ram group members were standing near the side wall. Ram Phal

mumbled something and they giggled .BK Kaul encouraged them,”Yes, come on.Don’t

hasitate. Please ask whatever is there in your mind.”

That encouragement was enough for Santosh. He asked ,”Sir, Yeh poochh raha hai, Mid semester milega yaa

nahin?”(Sir, He is asking, 'Will we get mid semester or not?')

In fact , Santosh just bestowed mode of expression to the rumour and general sentiments

of hostelers. The rumour was, since we went for so many cut, we might not get mid

semester.But you may agree that the timing and occasion was lock, stock and barrel wide

off the mark.

Prof Kaul was stunned. He did not have the inkling that all his sermons would be that

much short lived. He was just taking deep breath after the bombastic speech and message

was thrown out of the window.

He asked,”What is your role number ?”

Santosh mumbled something, BK Kaul took out another piece of paper and noted

down.He said in Hindi,”Beta Mid semester to nahin mid degree jarur mil jayegi”.(Son, you will get no mid semester, but mid degree)

What a depressing session it was !

***********************

Runa Laila was sceaming in top of her voice ,”De De Pyar De , Pyar De , Pyar de de”(Give me love, give me love, give me love)

(the original version) through the Chakradhar Bhawan’s stereo.On his tune, Gaikwad was

dancing .

How was he dancing ?

Just assume that some penguin was walking on slippery ice. I mean, at the same

place,”left , right .left”, slipping , regaining the balance, trying to move forward, slipping

, regaing the balance, trying to .. That was one, two, two point five – one, two ….

Why was he dancing?

Because after many many days of hibernate, mess stereo was vibrating in full

volume.Not only Gaikwad, but Vilas Shah , Jayram, Hang Miji and many other KPs were

dancing.Some Haryanvis also joined the fun.The ground in front of Common room

became free for all dance floor.

Why were they dancing ?

The answer was simple – Mid semester was announced.

Open up your wing of imagination and guess except Haryanvi, Chandigarhi,

Delhites,Saharanpuri – who would have reached home first ?

It was Sameer Sardesai.

In the words of Jairam,”The lucky Bas**d.”

We were in the administrative department where Concession Form for Indian Railways

was being issued to us.All the KPs were patiently standing in queue, which was getting

longer each moment. The old clerk Tuteja , looked each of us, verified the form filled by

us.

“Where are you from ? “ He asked Baweja.

“Bhopal”, Baweja replied.

“Nearest railway station ?”

“Bhopal.”

Tuteja checked his address and gave the pink concession form. Baweja was elated as if he

got a toffee. He did not even bother to wait for me and scampered through the corridor.

“Where are you from ?” He asked me.

“Bhilai”.I replied.

He looked into the thick register where address of each KPs were written.

“Nearest Railway station?” He asked again.

“Bhilai”.That was a mistake, for that I was chided by all Bhilaiya seniors.

In that pink red form, he filled up the places and date and handing it over to me.

The atmosphere was serene.Everything was calm , streamlined and functioning in proper

order.Till Sameer Sardesai emerged, just out of the blue.

“Sir, Airlines ka concession form bhi yahin milega kya ?”

“Kya? Aap Hawai Jahaj se jayenge?”(What ? You are going by aeroplane?)

Today, it might look a lousy question or P. J. to you ,”What nonsense.

To kya hawai jahaj

ka ticket lekar train se jayenge ?Tuteja sahab, aap bhi had karte hain….”

But that time, it was more of a flummox than confirmation. Not only Tuteja, but all of us,

those KPs standing there, asked in unison,”Abe Sameer, tu Hawai Jahaj se jayega?”(Sameer, Are you going by aeroplane ?)

************************************************************************

Getting the concession form was one part. Converting them to ticket was another matter.

There were three parts of Mid semester – Pre Mid semester, Core Mid Semester and Post

Mid Semester. We got the form for “core” mid semester, but There was always at least

two three days “pre” mid semester cut and usually one week’s “post” mid semester

agreement.

Well, obviously, the dates scribed on the concession form would indicate “core mid

semester” that spanned over nine days – five working days and two before and after

weekly off.

For me, though on paper, it took twenty five hours run on the wheel to reach home, yet it

was never less than thirty six hours, considering the fact that there was no direct train

from Kurukshetra. The same thirty six hours it took to come back from Bhilai to

Kurukshetra, though the set of trains were normally different.

So what did we do ?

That was probably the only mid semester when I did not do anything. So, let us drop the

topic and cross the bridge when it comes.

Signature campaign was on rampage in the hostel. It emerged that there were three

signature campaigns going on concomitantly. It seemed that all the three campaigners

had their own certificate on confidence and they refused to join hands on trust basis. All

of them were inducing the guys to sign for “Post” mid semester. Nothing was mentioned

about “Pre” mid semester.It was always understood.

******************************************************

That was Thursday morning , when Atul, Ajay Saxena, Sanjay Roy, Baweja , Kakkad,Rajoria and Rawat went by Jhelam Express..

Who else were left from MP group ?

Sardaar Sanjeet Singh Bakshi had some relatives in Delhi.So, he left for Delhi.He confided that he reserved the right to use his concession form at some “appropriate”moment. The reason for him staying in Delhi was revealed one month later.He was expecting call letters from NDA and he had given Delhi address as contact address.

Anyway ….

The whole day , I kept on watching someone or another leaving the hostels.My room was uncharacteristically quiet . Atul and Saxena had folded their beds. The room was all “soona soona".(dead silent) .Somehow, I managed that night alone .Next day morning, I thought that I should also leave. But I had done precious little packing yet….All of a sudden, I pumped up all my energies, kept on dumping whatever coming in hand into the bag,kicked and jumped on it several times, resumed dumping.When that bag was full, I pulled another one and at last, I completed the packing ritual.

The booking clerk saw my concession form, he referred his book and asked,”how do you go Bhilai?Via Bina, Katani Bilaspur ?”

“No,” I said,”from Bina, Bhopal, Nagpur.”

Bina , Katni, Bilaspur was the shortest route. The difference was hardly fifty to seventy km.One was 1460 Km., another was 1520 Km.However, via Nagpur route was the much more convenient than the other one.Except a few, all the south bound trains from Delhi were passing through Nagpur. Moreover , the train, by which I was supposed to go, was going via Nagpur. That was the dream train – “138 Down Chhattisgarh Express.”

To board on the train of the trains, I had to reach Hazrat Nizamiddin first.

When Flying Mail terminated at New Delhi, darkness had descended on that glorious city. However, it was the kingdom of illuminations. Everywhere, I could see the lights,Nothing but lights – headlights , street lights, gas batti of road side venders - in rows, in arcs, in circular and other bizarre patterns. The glittering was enhanced further with neon lights and police van headlights - not because of IITF was going on , but Delhi was hosting Asiad '82 after thirty one years and it was fully geared up for that.

The preparation for Asiad was discernible when I boarded on slow moving , some passenger which was going from New Delhi station to Hazrat Nizamuddin. First, I saw Minto Bridge….Then Tilak Bridge…Those seems to be new stations hammered in a hurry to meet the deadline of Asiad. There were green boards whose paints might be still wet , showing Appu with a particular event and direction to reach to the stadium. The red soil, dumped adjacent to the makeshift platform , was still fresh and nicely smelling.

When I reached Hazrat Nizamuddin, it was well past ten.

************************************************************************

Forgive me my habit of reminding and checking if you are still with me ….

Why I was at Hazrat Nizamuddin ?

Because, I had to board on Chhattisgarh Express.

What time Chhattisgarh express would leave?

Tomorrow morning– and as usual – whenever we inform someone about timing of Indian railway – we add a peculiar word inadvertently. So, I should say ,”Seven thirty morning, Insha allah”.

Now ? What to do next? I could not kick my butt whole night. I had to do something.

So what would I do in that empty, dark , morose railway station which had eight

platforms but all of them were empty and barely lit?

In that case, the very first thing to do was, to go immediately to platform number one and stay near Station Master’s room.

That was real pain, literally and figuratively. In both the hands, I had heavy , much heavy bags.I had to walk upto the bridge, climb on the staircase one steps at time , walk again on the bridge and came down.

The concept of hiring the coolie did not fit in my travel ethics. If I was traveling with bags, I had to carry them.

I did not realize that the stuffs inside those bags would swell into something so heavy just within five hours and ten minutes. After every ten steps , I kept on taking deep breaths, changed the hands for the bags ( absurd exercise, both were equally heavy), wiped out the sweat,which was not normal in that November night and managed to crawl ahead.

When I reached platform number one, near the Station Master office, I bumped into ( at least) one like minded person. When I looked up - he was third year senior from Maharashtra – Shashikant Gajbhiye.

He was looking at me and I was looking at him.

He seemed to be well settled on the platform. He was carrying small mat , which he laid down on the floor, put on a nice thick bed sheet over it and was languishing cozily.

I knew, that was bound to happen.

******************
Proverbial rabbit in the headlights .. Is that what you said ?

The green colour train was dozing at the platform. Wow, look at that… Is that not something – what you call - out of the world !! No ? Yes ? Oh yes !

There were six or seven bogies altogether. On each bogie, you would find Appu , doing something or another. On one bogie, he was shooting like an ace shooter – one eye closed, other close to the barrel. On another bogie, he was wrestling with another hapless baby elephant On the third one, he had Hockey stick in hand , though Jeet Mohinder would tell you that he hold it in a wrong way, on the forth one he was happily kicking a Football.

There was scanty vacillation in my mind that it was one of those much touted Asiad special local train, which had been talk of the newspaper and TV for quite some times.

Many guys suggested that it would provide another alternatives to Delhites. Others wondered why it had not thought of before. Still, others , who for me, looked like “Dada” (Grand Pa) of private bus union, felt that it was a shame for Delhites to accept the “crutch” to support the expected rush during Asiad and those trains should stayed only upto Asiad.

After that, they should recede.

“Gajbhiye saab, yeh Asiad train hai naa?”
Why was I seeking a second opinion?

“So, what else?”

That was exquisite , sleek train.Believe me.

“But where is the engine?” I asked.

Gajbhiye was amused,”Have you not ever seen a local train?” he wondered.

“Of course, I have seen.They are normally small trains, halting at each stop…but they would have the most condemned bogies attached to them…”

“Oh no.You have not scene local trains. You have never been to Bombay?”

“No.”, I accepted.

“That explains a lot, why you were searching for engine.Ok, just go around and find out where the engine is.”

I moved from first bogie to second to third.Gajbhiye laughed and called me back.

It seemd that it was the terminus of local train and it just had its last trip completed. The bogies were looking so inviting that I wanted to inspect them closely .

“Gajbhiye saab, may I go in and have a close look ?”

“Hey, be careful. It is traction power operated. It gained the speed within fraction of seconds.”

“No, I think, it would stay here for a while.” I stepped inside.

There were very few seats for sitting and huge space for standing, having overhead hooks.I shook the hooks, it swayed and swiveled .Oh great, it could swivel complete 360 degrees and beyond …I was rotating it clockwise, then anti clockwise….

Suddenly, the earth under my feet shook and swept away.

“Thakur, Jump Jump….” Gajbhiye shrieked frantically. I was in the stronghold of panic.

I did not remember any Newton’s law of motion – how to get down from moving train…your face should be towards engine or in opposite direction. It would be hardly some millisecond when I reached to the door, but till then the train had gained three forth of the speed. Probably my hesitation and flash thinking added few m-seconds to that. I made the decision and jumped.

I was like flying in the air.But ultimately notation of gravity prevailed and the moment I hit the ground, I was just sprinting like uncontrollable car .I wobbled and would have fallen flat, had it not been Gajbhiye.

He was really pretty strong to absorb the momentum of my speed and hold me standstill.

“Bach gayaa tu? (narrowly escaped)”He just said.

*******************************************************************

“Tune khana khaya?(Had dinner?)” Gajbhiye asked.
Though I was hungry , I did not feel like eating anything.
“I don’t think, there is any restaurant in the station.Why don’t you go out and eat something ?” He suggested.
I hesitated at one moment, then lifted those two heavy bags and started wobbling.
“Hey, what do you think, why are you carrying these bags? Relax, keep them here only.”
That was the thing I yearned for, but it was too much to ask a senior to keep watchful eyes on my stuffs. Ragging days were just over and Gajju was someone, whose name was enough to create tremors among Maharashtra and MP juniors.
Here, he was offering his services on his own.
That was hard to believe.
“Jaa Jaa, kya soch raha hai?(What are you thinking ? Go.)” He poked me again,”Keep it here, near my bags.”He himself lifted those bags and he was startled.
“My God”, He left the bags and shook his hands,”These bags are so heavy. What is inside?”
“Books.” I replied.
“Whaaat ?Books?? You are carrying books for mid semester ???”
*****************
If kaleidoscope is the right word, I would like to use it here…
Just outside the station, there was a Mazaar (Hey , not the Nizamuddin Auliya’s
Dargaah.I am talking about within the premises of station. Just outside) .It was almost eleven O’Clock and outside of the station was lit with some tubelights. There was a group of six to seven ,I don’t know , what is the good word, say suttebaaz, yes, six or seven suttebaaz sitting near the Mazaar, carefully avoiding the reach of the tubelight’s white light.. One of them , having big black beard, was smoking with a slim, long tube.I again don’t know, what he was smoking.At the same time, he was busy in reciting “shayari” in his dissonant bombastic voice. Rest others were sharing a different joint , which was being circulated among them.They were listening attentively and every now and then –
were appreciating “wah wah”.
All of a sudden, I felt that I was walking in the medieval time .I don’t think, they were Sufis, or traditional Quwaals – but the way they were immersed in their own globe – was really fascinating.
There were some six seven “big” auto rickshwa around (Big in size), but the drivers seemed to call it a day or doing night shift and were indulged in playing cards.in group of four to five guys.
I crossed the road, went to a dhabaa.The radio was tuned to “All India Radio Urdu Service”. I relished two aloo paratha served with melodious old Hindi songs.
Then I took the water glass , washed the hands just outside the door on one side. Why did I do that ? Because it was written on the wall ,”Gilas main haath dhona manaa hai.(Cleaning hand inside the glss of water is not permitted)”
************************************************************************
When I reached station, the curtain was lifted further.
I saw few more guys had joined Gajbhiye. They not only joined, they had opened their
mats , spread it alongside of Gajbhiye , lying down and chit-chatting.
They were Rakesh Tiwari (my third year senior from Bhilai), Pradeep Sikdar (third year senior from Nagpur and Rakesh Tiwari’s romm mate).Homne ( forth year senior from Nagpur).They came to Delhi in the morning , spent the day in I.I.T. F. and then came to the station and joined Gajbhiye.
When I reached, they all burst into laugher.
Obviously, Gajbhiye had told them my Asiad local train incident.
Rakesh Tiwari asked me ,”Did you get anything to eat outside?”
“Yes”, I said, “I got aloo Paratha.”
He looked at me,”Are you sure ? Like to eat something more ?I have some fruits.”
“Thanks, I am full” I replied.
I lifted my bag, and wobbling , went to the one end of the row .
I pulled out the only thick bed sheet I brought and arranged if directly on floor.
“What? You did not bring the mat or bedding ?” Tiwari asked .
“No” , I said.
“My God, the floor will be really cold.No air pillow ?”
“No”, I said.My palms were my pillow.I put them under the head and stretched myself.
“Hey Sardaar (Kuldeep Singh Saini ) was also likely to come ?” He recalled.
“Lucky fellow.He has got some relatives in Delhi.He will have nice dinner, have a good night sleep and….”
Gajbhiye added, “but will have to come and stand in the queue of current reservation…” and chuckled.
Rakesh Tiwari yawned,”Kal subah uthkar line main laganaa padega.” That was the line of current reservation for our dream train."
Gajbhiye laughed,”Is baar to Hamaare bandon ne record tod diya.Bina concession formke Nagpur Jaakar aaye.”

He was referring to Gaikwad and Harshwardhan Godbole’s visit to Nagpur during the strike period.
Pradeep Sikdar added,”one of them(Gaikwad) had the railway first class pass, since his dad is in Railway.”
Then Gajbhiye added ,”and other went with him as attendant.”Then he asked,”what were their plan Thakur?Are they coming or they have already gone ?”
“I don’t know.”I said,”I think, Gaikwad has gone .However, Godbole had a class test in the evening .But I am not sure.”
Gajbhiye tossed the unpleasant question,”What happens if we don’t get reservation?”
Tiwari dispelled all the doubts,” That is Chhattisgarh express.You will get the reservation .... hundred percent.”
Gajbhiye said,”Otherwise… I don’t know.Once, in summer time, I went from Vardha to Nagpur just at standing on the joint of two bogies.I dare not to look down .I was just looking ahead and holding the handle firmly.Then I decided that I won’t do it again.That was too much.”
Homne added, “I heard, once Sood ( Sanjay Sood, another forth year senior from Bhilai) did not have reservation.He boarded on one reservation compartment, sat comfortably, when asked about reservation, he said that he was going to Faridabad.Then at Faridabad,he went to another reservation bogie and said, he was just going to Mathura.At Mathura, he changed the bogie once again and declared that he was just going to Agra.He kept on jumping from one bogie to another till it was night time….But by that time, he had covered one third of the journey without any problem…”
Now, they all spread on their back, gaze fixed towards sky.
There , I was the only first year guy, so I was radio for them.

“Thakur , ek joke suna(Thakur, tell us a joke).”
“Nahin Thakur, ek Gaanaa ho jaye (No Thakur, sing a song).”
“Nahin be ! Thakur has some very nice original story.Once In ragging days’ he narrated us a story for three hours and we kept on listening. Thakur, tell us a story. Eisi kahani honi chahiye ki Neend aa jaye(The story should be like that , we should be able to sleep).”

So that was the aim.They wanted me to narrate a bed time story so that they could sleep on the hard floor of platform number one, while cold wind blowing,incoming trains honking, near Station Master’s office.I doubt, I had that potent story.
Suddenly Rakesh Tiwari realized,”Thakur,tere paas udhane ke liye chaadar nahin hai ?”
“This is the bed sheet.It is good enough.” I replied, “I’ll roll it like a sleeping bag.”
Gajbhiye was amazed,”My God, I thought you have brought a blanket.I was just like you when I first came to catch the train like this – no blanket. But I had two bed sheets.You are carrying just one ?”
Homne offered, “Thakur, take my blanket.My bedsheet is good for me… thick
enough.Original Kolhapuri.”
Rakesh Tiwari said,”no, Homne saab.I think , I have a shawl.I’ll use the shawl, Thakur will take the blanket.”
Suddenly he asked,’But you are carrying two bags.Two heavy bags….What is there inside ..?”
“Books”, I meekly said.
Platform number one was blasted with roar of laugher.
************************

The whole night, one engine or the other, crossed the platform aimlessly, blasting the full whistle,”Pooooon,Poooooon”.I kept on waking , glancing at the watch and then sleeping.The last time, I check the time, it was 2.30 A.M. Still, we could sleep for another one hour or so. Then we had to wake up and stand in the queue of current reservation.
I didn’t know when, probably, it was very early morning’s cold wind that I slept soundly.I was dreaming that I am traveling by ship.I could hear the old steam engine’s “Chhuck chhuck” it came from a distance and became louder and louder.I was standing on the deck and the weather was rough . Occasionally, one or two drops from rough sea water would slap my face.
The ‘Chhuck, Chhuck’ was approaching towards me. Now, the droplets from sea water was hitting my face more frequently.Suddenly someone shook me wildely, “Thakur, uth(wake up)”.
It was Rakesh Tiwari.I woke up at the nick of the time.Without thinking anything, I just pulled my bedsheet way from the rush of bucketful of water. One wave of bucketful was followed by another .Like me, all of them had rolled their bedsheets in haste ,watching sheepishly to the sweeper, who was doing his job dispassionately ,mechanically and with full concentration. He would never bother to wake up those,sleeping on the platform. True, he was not paid for it. He was getting salary to wash and sweep the platform. Just because, it was platform number one and near to the office of Station Master. So, he was performing his duty silently and attentively.
Anyway, it was true that he worked as an alarm clock.
“Hey, you sleep like a log.But you know, that is a good thing.” In a bizarre appreciation, Rakesh Tiwari admired my sleep.
It was time to stand up in the queue for the current reservation.
*******************************

I swear, I was third in the queue.
That was Four O’Clock early morning.When we reached to the queue, two fellow were already there in the queue.I sprinted and became the third one.
Tiwari was delighted with my spirit ,”Good , Thakur.Yes, you do one thing.You stay in queue, we see that we get a cup of tea.Oh, you don’t drink tea.Ok, what should we bring for you ?”
“Nothing Tiwari saab”. I said.
“Ok, remember, I was standing behind you .Fine?”
“And I was behind him .” Gajbhiye added.
"And after Gajbhiye, it would be me.”Sikdar added.
Homne was just smiling.
They went there for a cup of tea and all of a sudden , all the equation got changed.
A passenger train reached at the platform.
From that passenger train, many passengers got down.
I could recognize four of them – our own , in the words of Shekhar Aiyyar – ‘Amitabh’ – that was, Harshwardharn Godbole , second year’s Prakash Ingole, forth year’s seniors from Bhilai – Sanjeev Sachchar and Shashwati Guha.
************************************************************************
Primary Question was –
Who was Shashwati Guha ?
Secondary questions were -
Did I now her ?
Why did I not know her?
What did I know about her ?
The other way round questions were –
Did she know me ?
Why did she not know me ?
--------Flashback ------
Those questions were posed to me again and again in ragging days. I kept on repeating parrot like line ," I don't know Sir" for answer for any of these question.You try, read each question at a time and see, “I don’t know Sir” would fit perfectly like a glove in the hand.
Well, it was true that on the first or second day, when Roy or Kakkad educated us about our seniors, they told us that there was a girl from Bhilai in forth year.Her name was Shashwati Guha.
I did not have any clue , why that simple fact had added some more agonizing fuel in my already woeful ragging days and peppered me with boiled sugar.
It was one of those days when I was returning from forth year senior, Sanjay Golash's room after raging. Like most of the cases - I used to be ragged alone and it was not exception.
Some Bihari senior, some Sinha( forgotten his name) , caught me.He whistled and called me, smiling , "Kahan se aaye ho , babu (Where are you from,dear) ?"
I just thought , should I jump into short cut and say eternal universal truth which was a fact , everyone knew - but that was an 'answer' - we were educated in ragging days.
He again asked,"You are from first year.Right? kahan se aaya hai (Where are you from)?"
So, by the time, I decided to take a long route instead of short cut.I said, "MP se (from M.P.)".
"Vahan kahan se aaya (Where did you come from M.P.)?"
"Bhilai se (From Bhilai)"I answered.
I did not realize that further probing would stop there only and I was saved from uttering eternal, universal , painful, embarrassing answer.
"Bhilai se ? Bhilai se hai tu ? Shaswati Guha ko jaanataa hai ?(From Bhilai ? Do you know Shashwati Guha?)"
Just see, how the flow of conversation got diverted.
"No sir".
"Have you heard of her name ?"
"Yes sir."
"Who is she ?"
"Forth year senior. sir"
If he were second year senior, it would have been "tadak , tadak", bang and box, but he was from forth year – hardened and tempered – no zeal for hawkish ragging.
He came near to me ,touched my collar,"Abe , kaun hai voh (Lad, who is she?) ?"
"Pardadi (Great Grand Mom) sir, sorry sir, Pardadi" , I immediately corrected my mistake.
“And me ?”
I stood clueless.
He asked .”Abe gadhe(O donkey) , yeh kaun sa hostel hai(Which hostel in this ) ?”
My tubelight blinked,”Oh,Ok, sir, Pardada (Great Grand Dad).”
“So you have not met Guha?”He asked.
“No sir.”
“Would you like to meet her ?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then tomorrow, come near E101 at 12.30 sharp”
“Yes sir.”
Do you think, I was too gullible to venture near E101 next day – not at the appointed time but the whole day?
But then onwards, I started using that fact as my shield to avoid the embarrassing answer.
Whenever someone asked ,”Where are you from ?”.Bypassing the usual “M.P.”, I would straightaway say,”from Bhilai”.
“Do you know Shashwati Guha?”
“Yes sir, she is Pardadi(great grand Mom).”Then I would deliberately add,”But just heard about her...Never met.”
“Ok, come near room E 202 at 2.40 sharp….”
…..”Ok, Come, near Electrical Machine. Lab at around 4.30….”
……….”Ok, wait for me near Prof. Batra’s cabin at 1.45…….”
Only few of them would look at the blue printed time tables pasted on walls at corridor. It seemed that they had the schedule for the classes mapped in their mind.
I always said ‘yes’ , but never went.
Sometimes it backfired also.One day, forth year’s Ahluwalia caught me near
Apollo,”Thakur, I told you wait near “ET lab” at 10-40 day before yesterday. you did not bother to turn up ? Boss banataa hai (yor are becoming 'Boss') ?”
I could not recollect if I ever promised him. I did not evoke to how many guys I had promised.Every one said, “Guha se milanaa hai (Want to meet Guha)?”I always said ‘yes’.
I was just searching for an excuse- Oh yes.Varmani…He won’t probe further.
“Sir, Varmani sir ka tut tha …(Sir, attending the tutorials of Professor Varmani)”
“To kya ham Chu&&&%ye hain #@% (Then are we nuts)?” His frustration vent through the mouthful he delivered.
………..Well, the same Madam Shashwati Guha was standing in front of me.That was the first time, we met.
Sanjeev Sachchar, another forth year senior from Bhilai,introduced us ,”Guha, yeh Thakur hai…(he is Thakur)Bhilai se hai (from Bhilai), first year main hain(in first year).”....
I ragging days, Atul Uprit had taught me , how to nod the head smartly to wish a senior.I nodded my head exactly in the same way, as a puppet , with big smile plastered on my face..
************************************************************************
I said, equations went for a toss ......
By that time, the queue had swelled a little.
When Sanjeev Sachchar was introducing me to Shashswati Guha, Kuldeep Singh Saini also came.Oh boy, you should look at his shirt – fresh, nicely pressed.I could smell fragrance of fresh soap also.He must have taken a nice bath.
In contrast, I was looking as someone just out of pickle jar.
Since they were my seniors, I had to push them inside the queue – not behind me, but in front of me.
Shashwati Guha did not have any tension in life. Since she was a girl, she stood on a separate , privileged queue – exclusive for ladies.Still surprise, surprise , surprise – she was third in her queue.Two more women standing in front of her.
Harshwardhan Godbole was wearing red colur windsheeter. Since I gave respect to the seniors and allowed them to stand in front of me, he assumed it as his right. He also stood in front of me.
Just think, what would have been the public reaction ? Among those guys , standing behind me patiently.
They hawled on me ,”Babuji, ye kya kar rahe ho (what are you doing , Mr.) ? Hum log Chu***ye hain kya jo subah char baje se line main khade hain (Are we nuts, as we are standing since four o'clock in the morning)?” Many of them raised the voice,”Ho,Ho…”
I liked Sanjiv Sachchar, he just looked back and stood there just like an electric poll.
When Rakesh Tiwari and gang came , it was total pandemonium.
Again, they were my seniors, so I had to create space for them in front of me. . At the same time, the guys from behind just kept on pushing me.There was again a big noisy protest.That was followed by massive push from back.By the time, it was five O’Clock and booking window was opened.
The clerk said,”Calm down .Everyone will get the reservation.There is enough vacant seat.An empty new bogie is going to be added.But, be on queue and one ticket per person please.”
I created spaces for so many seniors in front of me. There was already pressure from behind-Push from the front, push from the back.I was squeezed.Every one was squeezed but it was a tussel of nerve.The forward, backward pushing was unabated. Under the relentless intense pressure, the straight line queue buckled to curve and soon it was converted into circle. A fresh slab of mammoth push came from behind and I was out of the queue.
Yes, I was out of the queue.
That was the fruit I received for my sleeping under open sky on platform number one ! Waking up so early !!
Godbole was also out of the queue but he was smart. He circled back, went across the barriers created with iron rods, jumped over the railing and again pushed his way back in the queue. In that process, he jumped three places ahead of where he was.Probably, his experience in the booking queue of Cinema theaters in Nagpur came as handy.
Dejected Thakur moved to the tail of the queue and stood at the back quietly.
The clerk had said that everyone would get reservation. I was pinning hope on his words.
Within minutes, I saw grinning faces of the seniors. Everyone was holding confirmed reservation on his hand. One by one, they lifted their bags and started moving.
When Godbole got the ticket,suddenly Tiwari asked ,”Where is Thakur?”
Thakur was just languishing at the back in the line.
Clearly,Tiwari was not impressed.
He came to me,”What ? you are at the back in the line ? What are you doing here ?”
I just smiled, but Rakesh Tiwari was just annoyed.I could not find any other expression on his face.
“Baaki Bandon ko ticket mil gayaa, tu abhi line main hi khadaa hai … sabse
peechhe…kya problem hai tere saath (All the guys have got the ticket.You are still in queue .... at the tail end ... what is the problem with you ) ?”
As I mentioned in my earlier post,this question was being posed again and again to me,”Kya problem hai tere saath (What is the problem with you )?”
The bigger irritation was still lying ahead.
************************************************************************
Yes, I also got the reservation.
We were waiting at Platform number three for Chhattisgarh Express.As expected, it was one hour late.
If you want to know a little about Chhattisgarh Express, the history was like that –
(Believe me, I know limit of your patience.I’ll sum up in few sentences)
It was started in 1974 to connect Raipur to Bhopal, since in those days , there was no direct train from Raipur , (which was in Chhattisgarh region of M.P. ) to the capital city Bhopal. Then it got extended from Bilaspur , since Bilaspur was the important junction of Chhattiagarh .There, one terminus was fixed and hammered and frozen to the ground.But the other terminus kept on moving Northwards. From Bhopal, it got extended to Gwalior,then from Gwalior to Hazrat Nizamuddin and then from Hazrat Nizamuddin to Amritsar.
What was the morale of history ? Just to make you aware of political compulsion and pressure group in India ?Otherwise, just locate where is Bilaspur and where is Amritsor.
In between, the train assumed different roles at different places.From Lalitpur to Gwalior and from Itarasi to Nagpur, it worked as fast passenger..
But why I was telling to you all this history and geography ? So that you could imagine ,how the train would look like when it reached the platform and you could share Kuldeep Singh Saini’s gargantuan frustration.
Yes, see , the train is coming …Slowly.Just one and half hour late.There was a halt of half an hour , since three new bogies were to be added.We had the reservation in one of those bogies.
So what did Kuldeep Singh Saini said ? He just said,”Yeh Lal dibbe dekhkar vaise hi khundak aati hai…(By just looking at red bogie, I got tense)”
You could say why ? Brick red bogies were synonym with Indian railway.Why had Saini Saab got frustrated just looking at those familiar red colored bogies ?

Say for example – just A.P. Express was coming from New Delhi. Just see the colour of the bogies – wow, shining baby red with yellow strip in the middle , on the window.Wow, just look at that, some of the bogies were blue. two shades of blue- some of them were sky blue and some of them were navy blue….We were just looking at A.P. Express.Since it was Super Super Fast express, halting only at Agra, Bhopal and then Nagpur – it had to be sleek.
Even though A.P. did not stop at Hazrat Nizamuddin, it slowed down a bit.And I heard the familiar shriek,”Ho , Ho ,Ho…”Just see, Bubu Rao, Sudhakar Babu and Hari Chouwdhari – stood there at door of one of the bogies of A.P. , alongwith some seniors.As soon as they saw us – they shouted , ”Hoooooooo”. Boy, they were dancing and their delight enhanced tenfolds when they spotted us.
When the train disappeared within next five second, I understood the deep grief in Saini saab’s voice.
*************************

...Prof Arora had the unique advertising method...
...Prof Arora was a matchless match maker.....
...Prof Arora was living in Regarpura new Delhi....
...Prof Arora had prospective eligible matches waiting in Canada, US , UK....
...Prof Arora was the sole owner of all the walls which were in the vicinity of Railway tracks in and around Delhi.....
"Not only that", Sachchar informed us, "those, who were going towards Rajsthan,those,who were going towards Bihar, Bengal side - they would find the same advertisement, displayed on wall after wall – miles after miles - till the painter might have dropped dead."
If you guys remember, the advertisement was like that , "Rishte Hi Rishte, ek baar mil to len.25, Regarpura , New Delhi.Hamare paas Canada, UK, USA ke rishte hain.( Match and Match ,Docome and meet at least once ..25, Regarpura, New Delhi...We have candidates from Cnada, US and UK) "
Guys, those were pre "Shaadi.com", "Bharat Metrimony " days.Prof Arora was
undisputed king in the domain of match making.
Chhattisgarh Express had crossed Faridabad and it was racing towards Mathura. Porf Arora advertisement were still alive .... No sign of fading ...
“Hum log ek nayi language banayenge (We will create a new language)”, It was Gajbhiye’s idea,”The boy will be called ‘Kooda’ and the girl wil be known as ‘mundi’”.
Rakesh Tiwri added,”I have just translated a film song In Haryanvi .Listen – Thare More beech maan keda hai yeh baandhand anjaanda.Manne nahin jaanda , thanned nahin janda…(Trying to make parody of a Hindi song - Between you and I , how is the strange bonding- neither you know, nore me)”
They tried to set the tone, but could not.
Then they said, “Yeh first year ke bande kaise chupchap baithe hain .. Godbole , joke suna.(Thesefirst year guys are so silent.. Godbole, tell us a joke).”
Godbole just smiled .So the onus fell on me.
As I told you , I was just a radio.You just need to switch on and adjust the station.Rakesh Tiwari said,”Joke…Thakur Joke…”
Gajbhiye demanded ,”No, Gaana (song).”
Second year’s Prakash Ingole recoinciled,”Pahle joke, phir gaana…(first joke, then song).”
Oh God, there was the dilemma.Veg or non veg…..it was understood that no one liked veg jokes.But the problem was – how could I start non –veg joke some situation demanded decency ?
Gajbhiye read hesitation in my eyes, “Don’t worry Thakur.” He lowered his voice,”she is sleeping three coupe away from here.I repeat, sleeping…. Three coupe away.”
Rakesh Tiwari added,”yeah, probably she was tired after the night journey. Don’t worry.Come on.But guys, don’t laugh too much to wake her up….Come on Thakur.”
I started as all the obstacles were taken care of,”Ek baar Morarji aur Charansingh Lodon gaye…(once Morarji Desai and Charan Singh went to London...”
When the joke got over, despite Tiwari’s admonishment, the guys burst into coarse,hard,laughter.
But that set the tone on right track..Rakesh Tiwari said,”Listen Well, once there was a king with small….”
Gajbhiye interrupted ,”No , me first. .It is a small joke.”
Homne had to interrupt,”Guys, it is a long journey.Everyone will get a chance . Ok, Gajju,you start.”
Gajbhiye started,”That was rainy day in college.Girls were crossing the puddle, boys were watching…”
A series of laugher caused Kuldeep Singh Saini and Sikdar to wake up.In the
anticipation that ‘others’ would also wake up in any moment, Gajju directed, ”Jokes bahut ho gaya.Ab Gaana ho jaye.”
Again, they caught Thakur -the radio.Though it was not a secret how much singer I was, though who had been ragged with me , would remember the torture, yet, from ragging days, I did not hesitate for any demand. Joke – ok joke , song – ok song, story – ok story…. Dance – ok dance….Even though they might regret later about their order …
Well, they asked Thakur to sing a song.
Thakur started,”Mere jeevan saathi, pyar kiye jaa.(My life partner, keep on loving...)”
“Jawani deewani , khubsoorat jiddi padosan…(youth is mad, o beautiful stubborn neighbour)”
“satyam shivam sunderam….”
I reached there , then first Prakash Ingole joined me.Then Gajju added his voice.It was just a matter of time that Tiwari and Homne jumped into the ring.Only Godbole, that Harshwardhan Godbole of first year, was sitting idle, just beaming the smile.
*********************
Those days, there was no catering service in Chhattisgarh Express , or for that matter, any other express trains except the super super fast trains.When the train reached Agra, the seniors bought lunch for all of us.When we wanted to pay to the vender, seniors chided us and they paid for Godbole and me.That had happened many a times at many occasions.
That was sort of tradition, that juniors, specially first year juniors would never allowed to pay .We ourselves kept that tradition alive when our time came.

When the tummy was full, you had a backlog of sleep, body tired and climate congenial ,moreover – the most important thing was – you had reservation – the only thing you were going to do is -----
Yes, if you say , railway rule book said, reservation sleeper had to brought down at night and in day time, sitting was to be allowed for other passengers – hell with the any black,blue, red, green rule book.-who cares….There were two sliding screens on the windowone,with the glasses, another one, with the blind. We pulled the blind down and ….
************************************************************************
I don’t know, how long I slept.When I woke up, the train was standing on a
station.Someone had pulled up the blind slider from the window.I could vaguely see Tiwari saab was standing outside.Unless I put my glasses on, I was not sure he was Tiwari saab.So, I put the glasses on.Ok, now , I could even see the station name – it was Bina.Tiwari saab was standing by some tea walah and handing tea cups to the guys inside.Suddenly , the train started moving forward. But Tiwari was relaxed .Some of the other guys, standing on platform, also ran and got up.
“Tiwari saab train chhuti…(Tiwari saab, train is leaving)....”
Then train stopped in next thirty second.. After a few minutes, it started moving back.It reached to the same spot, where Tiwari was still standing in relaxed mood.
Wow, “wah Tiwari saab , Chha gaye… (bravo), you are a magician .” I thought.
..... I passed through Bina station many a times in later year. The train always moved back and forth like this.But I was never enthralled by it, because , next time, I was not sleeping..I could hear the announcement from the lady announcer in sweet voice,”Platform number chaar par khadi gadi Chhattisgarh Express shunting ke liye aage jayegi aur pichhe aayegi.Kripaya shunting ke douran chadhne ka prayatn naa Karen.(The train at platform number four is chhattisgarh Express.For the shunting, the train will move forward and backword.Please do not try to board while shunting)...”
But each time, I used to see the same panic among the passengers, despite the
announcement.
“That is my India”, I always thought ,”here guys are habitual to make decision by instinct rather than information. Probably, that is why the country is able to survive….”
*********
Bina – Lalitpur – Babina – Jhansi ….. Chhattisgarh Express had crossed even the Muraina junction.Now, I could see the “Beehad” of Chambal.
I remember, when I was coming for admission , when the train reached that vary area of Chambal, there was a sort of panic. It was late evening and conductor was moving on the bogie.
“Please switch off the light.Just for half an hour.” He kept on requesting,”That is for your safety.” Everyone knew the trouble.They switched off the light till the train whistle passed the troubled area.
Those were the days of terror of bandit queen - Phoolan Devi.Even though the railway track just touched the Chambal, no one wanted to take any risk.
...This time, it was late afternoon.I just looked outside the window and kept watching the ravine outside of the window.”God, let me have a glimpse of a single dacoit.” I thought.
Madam , yes, my great grand mom, was still sleeping.
*******
“Are rang ka bhang jama ho chakaachak, fir lo paan chabaye ….”
You guessed it right.They again switched the Radio Thakur on. Thakur did not turned his back with sheepish smile.But that song created so much noise that almost every Recker,sane Harshwardhan Godbole, who were awake , joined the chorus in most cacophonous ,boisterous way.Now, the voice of Thakur was lost in the press shop like clanging .In fact, I stopped singing and just moving my lips, still no one detected it.
But it had it’s desired effect.Saini saab woke up.
Not only Saini saab, Sanjeev Sachchar woke up.
Not only Sanjeev Sachchar , Madam Shashwati Guha woke up.
In another ten minutes, all the Reckers joined us in our coupe.
As per the railway rule, it was meant for six guys, but around twelve Reckers were sitting there.
Prakash Ingole followed it with “Saara Zamana Haseenon kaa Deewana…(The whole world, Mad for beautiful girl) Every one was in a mood.One more passenger joined.He was rather hurted by our choice of noisy,freak out songs. He requested , why not we sing “Mukesh ke dard bhare nagme (sad song of Mukesh)”.
“Bhai saab (brother), sorry” Homne said,”None of us are much of a singer.I doubt anyone could even remember the wording of any of Mukesh’s song.Why not you sing a song for us ?”
His ego was boosted.He got elated and sang Mukesh’s sad song.
Now you guess what ! Don’t smile , just say it.Yes, you are right !
The guys requested Madam Guha to sing a song.
They said her voice was sweet and melodious. They reminded that Bengalis had long history of music and arts and right from Rabondra Nath Tagore to R.D. Burman, there was a long list of Bengali music mastereo.And it was impossible that she did not get formal education in music and equally impossible that she did not sing.I was just watching all the twist and turns and forms and transforms of pampering.
Yes, Madam Guha did not disappoint .She relented and sang a Bengali song.
Everyone clapped.
Now, we requested Saini saab to sing a Bhangada song.
Saini saab thought a lot.He said, “ok, I am not a singer, but I’ll tell you how a lottery seller allure people and sell tickets in Punjabi.”
He did the mimicry and we again clapped.
It seemed that we were moving towards decent items and presentation. Then I don’t know , what happened, Gajbhiye started in his bawdy voice,”Laila main laila…”
Again, it was a vociferous chorus...T.T. (Ticket Checker) came. He just checked Madam Guha’s ticket and went away.
By the time, the train hit Bhopal, it was seven O’Clock in the evening.In the twilight, some group of apparently hundred guys was still singing,”Haathon ki chand lakeeron kaa…. (Just a few lines of palm..)”
****************
We were at the capital of Madhya Pradesh.
It it were Bhopal and we did not remember Arun Suchari, that was inconceivable. But I was not sure if Suchari saab even started for Mid semester. He was not in a mood to come for mid semester, since he was determined to sit tight and clear the back papers.
Just one day before starting the journey(The day Atul and Saxena left , leaving me alone in room) , I went to Rakesh Tiwari’s room.Sikdar and Tiwari were busy in packing.Suchari saab was just watching and muttering,”Abe Bahan**don, kal nahaa dhake gaadi main jaana.Yeh nahin ki subah subah chal diye gaadi apavitr karne....( O sis f***r, tomorrow take shower befoe starting the journey ... Otherwise, you will pollute the train...)”
“Hum to roj nahaate hain(We take shower daily).” Sikdar replied,”Aap apni socho Mama (youthink of yourself, uncle).”
“Suchari saab , aap nahin jaa rahe (Suchari saab, you arenot coming ) ?” I asked.
“Nahin yaar (no buddy).”he said.”Is baar idhar hi jame rahne kaa irada hai(This time, I dcided to stay here).”I could sense a tinge of pain in his voice……
“Bhopal aa gayaa …. Suchari ‘saab’ ka shahar..(Bhopal has come Suchari saab's city)” Gajbhiye emphasized on ‘Saab’ in a way to tease me , since we always call him “Suchari saab” with respect.
I really felt that somewhere, from some corner, Suchari saab would emerge. Then I realized that four Bhopali, (except Sanjeet Singh Bakshi) would have reached yesterday morning.What if Baweja, Saxena, Kakkad or Roy- anyone would come to the station by any chance.
It did not happen.
****************
The train took about three to four minutes to cross Narmada river .Then came
Hoshangabad.My reverse journey started.Lying on the birth, I recalled, just four months back, I was on my way to Kurukshetra along with my father.How much water of Narmada had flown under the bridge.Had I changed a lot in those day? Probably …Ragging had changed me a lot….
From Itarasi to Nagpur, the train ran as fast passenger .It was a dark night.Every now and then , it was stopping at some stop.I would go to the mirror at the wash basin near bathroom and looked myself….what if Ma would not able to recognize me ?No, she would , I had not changed that much that she would not recognize her son ….No…
… And I slept….
************************************************************************
Oh God, that was 'V' hour.The time when the attack of sleep was the most
ruthless,remorseless, relentless. However, someone shook my leg.I opened the
eyes.Godbole was shaking me ,”Thakur, are you sleeping ?”
“Yes” I said.
“ Sorry, I have to go.I just wanted to say goodbye and Happy Deewali to you.”
“What ?” I woke up in jiffy.
Chhattiagarh Express reached at Nagpur station at 3.45 in the morning.With my blurred vision, I saw , Homne, Gajbhiye , Prakash Ingole – they were pulling their bags from under the seat and were ready to go out. Almost all the Reckers woke up.To look at the scene closely, I put on my spectacles.
Immediately, I realized that I could see two different scenes, separated by a vertical line.
That was – one of the glasses of my spectacle was broken.
There were hand shakes all round.Homne extended his hand for me , “Thakur, our destination has… oh, what happened to your glasses?”
Kuldeep Singh Saini looked and smiled ,” Oh, it seems that ‘someone’ has winked him.”
Another round of guffaw … early in the morning
Gajbhiye added, “’Someone’ has winked or he has winked ‘someone’.”
Again they doubled up with laughter.Tiwari tried to bring sanity in the group,”Abe ,Dhire hanso (control your laughter) .’Someone’ is sleeping “
They almost fell down with hysterical cackle.
Chhattisgarh Express stayed there for forty five minutes. Nagpur guys were reluctant to go home. Everyone stayed back , except Godbole.Understandably, he was feeling home sick. But others stayed to full forty five minutes and beyound.They had two rounds of tea with remaining guys. Meanwhile, the direction of the engine of Chhattisgarh Express was changed once more. Only when the engine from the other end blasted whistle, they decided to part. Still, Sikdar was telling,”No need to hurry.As per rule they will have to blow three whistle before start the engine.”
But, at platform number one, the warning bell rang for Chhattisgarh Express and
announcement had been made for its departure.Tiwari, Saini , Sachchar – we came back to our bogie.
Three of them stayed at the gate and waived till they could see them in that foggy morning.The gesture was not unilateral.
***********************************************************************
“So , you have put Bhilai as your nearest railway station in concenssion form ?”
“Yes” I said meekly.
“Bhilai or Bhilai Nagar ? Just show me.” Sachchar asked.
I showed him the concession form.It was written “Bhilai”.
In fact, there were three small stations in Bhilai – Bhilai Nagar , Bhilai Power House and Bhilai.But all of them were so small that there would be hardly any quota for train reservation from there.
“Tu to gaya kaam se (you are going to die)” Tiwari paased the verdict.”At least you should have asked us.The nearest railway station is always Durg. Kya?Note it down in your mind for next five year.You know, how far Bhilai station is from the township ? You have to go there on bicycle .There is no other option. No Tempo will go there.and that is at least six km.”
Saini saab tried to pacify,”Let it go.We all learn from mistakes.”
After the twin station Salekasha and Darekasha, which were famous for train derailment.,(i.e., the railway trackes were so wavy with sharp curves and up and down that sometimes or the other, we would hear the stories of derailment, specially , the goods train.) from Maharashtra, the train entered in a tunnel.On the other side of the tunnel, it was again M.P. The driver blew a long whistle , that made everyone to wake up.
“Which station is there ?” Shashwati Guha asked.
“Dongargarh” Tiwari replied.
I could see the hills of Dongargarh.Our destination was near.As you know, in India, there was no surprise to find a big Durga Mata or her incarnation’s temple on the top of hill.That is there in Vaishnav Devi , Hardwar , Shimla, and many other places.
Dongargarh was Vaishnav Devi for Chhattisgarh.On the top of the main hill, I could see the temple of Bambleshwari Devi.
When I was coming to Kurukshetra, Ma had directed me that whenever the train would be in Dongargarh, you bow your head and remember “Maa Bambleshwari” in your heart.She would keep all the troubles away from you.
Yes, four months had passed. She had saved me in all those troublesome time.
In another one hour or so, we were in Durg.
What a familiar scene it was.I could breath in the familiar air.Nothing had changed in all those months.Even Amitabh’s movie poster of “Khuddar” was visible at the same place.That meant it was still running.
Tiwari , Sachchar and Guha were getting down.
Tiwari was annoyed, “Thakur.Why are you not coming ? Don’t tell me that your ticket is upto Bhilai, so you wil go upto Bhilai.”
I just smiled,” No, Bhilai Power House is near to my house.I’ll get down over there.”
Sachchar said, “Are you sure ? does it stop at Power House ? Then it is nearer to me also.”
“Ok”, Rakesh Tiwari said.,”as you wish.Actully, I wanted to finish reservation business here before going home.”
“Me too,” Guha also had the same micro management and planning.
“Ok, Happy Deewali”.Sachchar said.
They went to a little distance , they talked and then Tiwari came back.
“Thakur, do you have twenty Rs spare ? It seems Guha needs for her reservation.”
“No problem” I said and handed over twenty rupees.
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When I got those twenty rupees back in college, then it was another ‘Halla Gulla’ and leg pulling for me. I didn’t have any inkling that the innocuous looking incidence of lending the money to a senior would provide a handle to Atul Uprit and party.
I know, you want to do a fast forward and ask for a snick peek.
Believe me, it was nothing….. Still insisting ? Ok..
It was pretty ordinary Saturday afternoon after Mid Semester.I went to bank with Atul Uprit ( Oh God,why did I tagged with Atul Uprit that day?).I filled the withdrawal form, and waiting near the payment window, in the sun, along with Atul Uprit.It was a slightly cold morning and I was wearing the blue sweater.The person , at the payment window, had really bad eye sight.Even in the broad day light, he would lit a candle , look the bundle of the notes closely, count them at least thrice, then only release the payment.
When Atul was idle , he used to hum sad songs of Mukesh and that was what precisely he was doing Suddenly Shashwati Guha emerged from thin air..She was with her friend,Veena (who later became Veena Madam in our ET lab).
“Hey , when did you come back?”
Though she was asking me, Atul gave the answer, “me? I came two day back and He?He came last week.”
The man on the opposite side of window called ,”token number seventeen.”
I went and collected the payment.
Then he called,”Token number eighteen.”
Atul went to the window.But still, he was looking back to see if I was talking to Madam Guha.I was not talking, just counting my money.
When he came back,I said,”Ok Madam …”
She said,”wait…wait for a minute.”
Now , tell me, what was wrong if your senior ask you to wait and you had to wait?
Her token was called, she went and collected the money, asked for change of hundred rupees and came back.
I knew what was going to happen, but oh God, I wished , really wished that the Earth would crack and either Atul Uprit or me would submerged.
She retuned me twenty rupees , smiled and said ,”Thank You.”
And then she went away.
Atul was envious to the core , probably,”She gave you twenty rupees?.”
“True” I replied, “You saw it.”
“Why?” his tone was - something like , why she gave it to 'you' , why not 'me' ? Just because you were from Bhilai ?
“Exactly.Because I lend her the money.”
“What ?” he could not digest it.I thought he would be fainted in any moment.
And soon, in the MP group, it became spicy rumbling that I lend money to Guha and she returned it. Everyone had tongue in cheek saying that next time, they would also go by Chhattisgarh Express.After all, it goes through Jhansi ( Rawat) , Bhopal ( Bhopali) ,Hoshangabad (Rajoria) , Itarasi (Uprit).
************************************************************************
Back to the train ---
So myself , Saini and Sanjeev sachchar were left in the bogie.It was hardly ten minutes journey.But train was still standing at the platform.
“Why are you carrying all these books ? “ Sani Saab asked me.
I myself was searching for the answer, right from the beginning.It was sure that I might not be going to open any of them.But then why I was carrying them ?
“In first year, I was also like you.Even today, I normally carry a lot of books.It is not that I am going to study all of them.It was just a comfort to mind.Baad main afsos naa ho ki yeh ya voh book kyon nahin laaya(later on, I should not regret , why should I not carry this or that book)?”
Precisely… Thanks Sani Saab , you touched the right nerve.Yes, that was the reason, I was carrying all those bagful of books.I’ll open them or not, might be a different matter.But at least, I should not regret that I did not bring this or that book.
One sardaarji became friend of Sachchar in the train.Sardaarji knew , he would get down in Durg.He was a little disappointed to see that Sachchar changed his mind, since his seat was supposed to be occupied by Sardarji’s family, once Sachchar got down at Durg.
Sardaarji asked Sachchar,”aap Durg main utarane wale the (You were supposed to get down at Durg)?”
“No, I am going to Power House.” Sachcchar said.
“Then go and buy the ticket.The train is about to leave .” He suggested.
“Apni Gaadi hai uncle ji (this is our train , sir).” Sachchar retorted..
After twenty minitues, the train started again, for last lag the its as well as ours journey.
***********************************************************************.
So, I could see the long columns of of smoke and chimneys of Bhilai Steel Plant.Within next ten minutes, we were at Bhilai Power house.That was always colourful.Stack of Ricksha(manual rikshaw) were waiting for us.
That was nine thirty in the morning.I started thirty eight hours back.I spent two nights in journey.The distance was almost 1500 KM. At last, I was at my home town. I could hardly wait to go home quickly. I knew, everyone would be happy.I would be welcome.
*****************************************************************
Babuji’s stern eyes were fixed on my face.
“What is this ?” he asked, pointing a white envelope.
“An envelope.” I answered.Boy, I was barely entered inside, then the bombshell was dropped.
“That I know.That is an envelope.Who is the sender ? “ He asked.
“I looked closely.It was from Principal, R.E.C., Kurukshetra.
“Open it and read”.He ordered.
The envelope was already torn open .Obviously, Babuji had read the letter.
“Read it loud.” Babuji ordered.
I could not.How could I ? When nothing good was written about me.When it was mentioned as if I was the sole responsible for and incited, influenced and directed all the indiscipline, mass cuts, class cuts etc. That had been further elaborated with the proof about number of classes I attended.It was concluded that if his ward , i.e., yours truly, did not change his behavior, he would surely fail in all the exam.
“It has hardly been four months and this is the situation.” He roared.
“Babuji, just listen to me.”
“ I know, what are you going to say.I am also a principal.I know ins and outs of you guys.I know , you will say , everyone was doing , and you were a part of the crowd and there were others not you who were doing that…What else you would like to add ?”
Nothing, that was all.
Silently, Babuji lifted my bag to bring them inside.He was startled.
“Seems to be so heavy.What is there inside ?” he asked.
He himself unzipped one bag,”Books here.” And then opened another bag,”still more books inside.Nothing but only the books…Good.” He smiled,”How long you are going to stay here?” he asked.
“Next five days.” I said.
“So you think that you will complete all the semester’s study in these five days ?”
I could sense a sarcastism in his voice.

??????????

.....Oh God, I know that was the story of every home.Now, I considered myself fortunate than Haryanvis. Believe me…
*****