"There's the snow leopard", says Mr.P to Sri and Kamala. The girls watch, fascinated. The magnificent creature lies there calmly in the afternoon sun, unmindful of the onlookers. Must have been at the zoo for a while now, I think - far from its home, far from freedom....A mere exhibit.
You will like this place, Priya. From my office window, I can see the woods.....sometimes in the nights, leopards roam free...
And instantly, I'm transported to the cane fields of Uttar Pradesh. We were trainees in the organization, about 50-60 of us, all newly minted engineers. We were on a tour of the other branches of the company. We would halt in various places, check out the factories and their processes, and talk to the people - managers and engineers. The bus tour, at one point, wound through small towns and villages of U.P. In the wee hours of the morning, I saw men with large pans by the roadside, frying jalebis, the sweet and sour snack so popular in the north.
"Milk and hot jalebis - my favorite breakfast", says A, who is sitting by me. A is from Bhopal, and has worked/travelled in UP before. He was part of our group of 6 or 7, who were funloving, wisecracking and generally enjoying ourselves the way a bunch of college students would. We hadn't gotten out of that mode yet. But A was a little silent, a little prone to going red in the face when teased - which made it all the more pleasurable to tease him.
We got along great - being opposites in many ways. I was bubbly and outgoing, bringing people out of their shells, while he was quiet. I had grown up in a male-dominated household, with even extended families having more sons than daughters. So I was able to field off the teasing of men quite effectively, and could tease them back. This earned me a buddy status with a lot of men.... I was 'one of the guys', sort of an Anjali in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, except I wasn't a tomboy. Our group hung out together at each stop, but invariably A and I ended up in the bus on adjacent seats (looking back, I think A probably engineered this - but I was clueless those days).
"Jalebis so early in the morning? And milk....what kind of a crazy combination is that, A?" I ask.
A shrugs. "Its popular in these parts".
"You are crazy, man!" I declare, and he smiles. This is a phrase we've used on each other a gazillion times. The bus winds through, with most of its occupants still asleep, it being 6 Am. We pass cane fields and then drive through woods. The Shivaliks aren't that far from there, A says. I wonder aloud how beautiful it must be - how serene and calm, to be living near the woods.
"Sigh....Wish I could live here. What to do? The woods are lovely, dark and deep...."
"Wah wah, subah subah kavita aa gayi!" A laughs.
"Shut up, A!"
And he does.....I doze off, and wake to a strange-looking A. There is an interesting, almost dreamy expression in his eyes, and he's smiling at me. The wind must've blown my saree pallu across his face. I try to snatch it away, but he takes it in his hand, feels the texture, examines the design.
"What are you doing, A?" I ask impatiently.
"har shaam aankhon par - tera aanchal lehraaye...." he sings.
"Wah wah, subah subah kavita aa gayi!"
At that, he lets go of the pallu and we both laugh. So this is how it went, quipping and counter-quipping. A little while later, the driver starts playing film songs (as most of the fellow trainees were awake and getting ready for a chai). A would translate some of the more obscure Urdu lyrics for me as we went along, and they were beautiful.
"Lucknowi Hindi is a treat to hear. The delicate mix of Urdu and Hindi, sounds so genteel".
He teaches me how to recognize Lucknowi Hindi, and differentiate between different Hindi dialects by area. He would hum old Hemant Kumar songs, and to this day I remember his favorites.
That, and the cold, cold dip in the ganga at Haridwar, at 7 in the morning in December. Brrrrrr.
*-*-*-*
We drive through Chandigarh, when terrorism was still part of Punjab, (though winding down), and visit the factory at its outskirts. That visit passed off peacefully, and I got to explore the roadside dhabas and the heart of Punjab. The dhaba foods were great, freshly made - and authentic too. Wish we had such clean eateries in Tamil Nadu....
We returned via Himachal Pradesh, making a stop at Shimla. As the next day was Sunday, the whole group (and the manager who coordinated this), elected to go to the snow-covered peak of Khufri. It was the first snow experience for most of us. At the first sight of snow, many of us screamed with delight.
We rented snow boots, and a big stick (useful in checking for firm ground before stepping on, said the rent shop guy) each, soon after reaching Khufri. It was wonderful, walking through snow. A bunch of us had fun throwing snow at each other, hitting the back of the head of an unsuspecting person. I was notorious for doing this. Many responded, with gusto....But A never threw back snowballs at me, except for some gentle token ones. He was a little protective of me, I think.
A would walk ahead enthusiastically and tease me for feeling the ground patiently with the stick before stepping on.
"But what if I fall?"
"Arre rey, my delicate flower - will I let you fall? Don't you see, this is why I'm walking just a little ahead of you?"
I look at him intently. No, he's not teasing. He's serious. Even held my arm in a few slippery places. I smile to myself..... Not bad, having a protector. Quite a novelty to me....usually I'm the one protecting people.
At the top of the mountains, we find a chaiwallah. He has a small stove, makes chai with the snow he's collected in buckets. And a guy with a baby yak. I'd never seen a yak before, so we eagerly take pictures with it. The rest of the group walks to catch up, and we all sit there in the snow, drinking hot chai on the bright, crisp morning.
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