Chalo Delhi !

Chalo Delhi !

‘Madam ,you will need at least 8 hours to reach Delhi’ The reception officer at the Claridges was telling Swati.

But the internet shows just five hours from Mussourie to Delhi, Swati pondered as she approached the group. What should we do? When should we start? Better start early than regret – suggested Tanvi. ‘Best is let’s ask the driver’ ‘Kuldeepji, how long will it take to reach Delhi?’

‘Arre Sahab, koi badi baat nahi hai ji. Bas che ghanton mein pahuncha doonga’quipped the driver.

Ok then let’s have breakfast and start by nine am. After all the map is showing a distance of  283 kilometers. We all were delighted and retired for our last night after having spent a wonderful holiday –Haridwar, Hrishikesh and now Mussourie. However enchanting the nature, one thing finally remains true, after all the fun & frolic , one is always so delighted to return home.

We all assembled at the breakfast table, luggage packed, ready for pick up . ‘The road is winding through the hills. Let’s not eat much’ a wise advice but the spread was so delightful and inviting that our taste buds spelt riot in our minds. Yet with an earnest control, all of us had a frugal breakfast. As we checked out, our luggage was firmly fastened on the carrier of the Innova   and no sooner had we taken our seats, the car sped through the rich vegetation of spruce and junipers bidding farewell to Mussourie.

The serpentine road with its deep bends and curves and the rising trees –the scene was picture perfect to the eyes but not so welcome to the stomach. The amla supari packet was opened – a sureshot remedy for road sickness. Each was given handful to keep munching so that the sour juice could keep vomiting at bay. The driver was continually requested to go slow but empty roads are so inviting to a seasoned driver. The car kept speeding through the beautiful hills.

And the inevitable happened. Neel was feeling sick since morning and was in deep sleep when all of a sudden he woke up only to vomit. The car had to be halted , cleaned and took off valuable 45 minutes from our schedule. On the way we also realized that although the map indicated 283 kilometers, the actual distance by road was much longer due to winding roads.  

As we sped past Dehradun and approached Sahranpur, the road was dusty and crowded.The hills had long given way to the plains.O what a difference! We also  realized that we were behind schedule. TSo to keep note , we started calculating the time spent and the kilometers covered. Sometimes the average used to come at 45,  sometimes 60. Like an ODI where we keep tab on balls left and runs needed, we were keeping a tab on our score. As we reached Muzaffarnagar, we had to go in the city to pay the road tax. Wonder why the RTO is not having a cell on the highway itself. Like toll tax, if road tax is to be collected from all non UP vehicles, why not have a booth on the bypass itself, knowing fully well that the road leads to the most visited places like Haridwar and a regular tourist path. But then customer convenience and state administration do not always work hand in hand. Another 45 minutes were lost in this entire milieu. So to make over for the lost time, we decided to skip further halts for any snacks/lunch etc and decided to make do with whatever eats we had carried with us for the journey.

The car sped forward to Meerut and by the time we reached Modinagar it was already 4 pm. The road was choc a bloc and our flight was at 6 pm. I was discussing with Swati, whether we could call up someone in Delhi so that we could request them to do some arrangement –as  I was suggesting one name after the other, suddenly I thought about calling up Air India. The call just could not get through. It was 4.45 pm and we were still at Modinagar.  We could clearly see that we were losing our own ODI.

The spirit within would not but just give up. And as I kept trying the voice on the other side said: May I help you? Eureka ! I had managed to get the line. I told the person about our flight details and to our delight , the voice on the other side said that the flight is delayed by an hour and would leave at 7 pm. ‘Madam, since you are at Modinagar, you will easily reach because the doors do not close before 45 minutes and we allow passengers who are stranded’ , assured the voice. But my inner voice did not agree.

‘Thanks please but could you tell me whether we could reschedule our flight and take a latter one?’

‘Yes Madam, you could do that but you will have to pay the differential fare and additional fee of Rs.500 per ticket. Since you are six passengers, bahut kharcha hoga Maa’m’ ‘Is there no way, you could help me? We are in a very bad traffic jam and there is no way but to sit in the car and wait for it to clear’ I wailed.

‘let me check and come back, Can you please hold?’ said the voice. ‘O sure’ –I  

‘Maa’m I have good news for you. When a flight is delayed, the passengers have two options: either they can take the rescheduled flight or they can change the flight, with no extra fee.’ ‘O wow, then in that case can you please reschedule it to 9 pm ?’ What a relief I said to myself. In no time our flight was changed and was told the procedure to be followed once I reach airport.’ As I thanked the ‘voice’ there was again a delight and a sigh of relief amongst the team. The traffic too started clearing and by and by we reached Ghaziabad.

As we reached the outskirts of Delhi through Ghaziabad , we were again welcomed by a snarling traffic jam. This is  truly becoming like the  movie ‘Chalo Delhi’ said Tanvi. One by one we were trying to overcome hurdles, and new hurdles were surfacing. By the time we reached Delhi on the way to the airport, we realized that Formula 1 race was over and the traffic to the airport would also be dense. Yet all through the journey God was on our side.  When HE had decided to reach us safely to Mumbai , who could come in our way?

Finally we reached Delhi Airport. The flight which was to take off at 9 pm, flew only at11.45 pm and we reached our Mumbai home- sweet home to snuggle in our warm beds at 3 am.

Our version of Chalo Delhi!

Anagha Hunnurkar

20^th November 2011

Haridwar - On the banks of Ganges

Haridwar - On the banks of Ganges


‘Madam, hurry up please’
‘Yes! I’m coming!’

I rushed out of the hotel room with Akhilesh and Neel in tow. As I clambered down the staircase, the punditji at the reception folded his hands in a Pranam and rose up to guide us to the location.  He had been specially arranged by the Hotel to enable us a glimpse of Ganga Aarti. The veneration of the Ganges, more like a mother than just a river.

We hurried out of the hotel, which was situated at the banks of the great Ganga and paced across the embankment or the ghat . It was a five minute walk but the Aarti would start any moment. We had managed to reach Haridwar just in time to have a quick shower and rush for the Aarti.  My heart was keeping tempo with punditji’s stride but the feet were falling short the pace. The kids easily marched with punditji. Not wanting to be delayed I started running across the walkway .On the way we started hearing the Aarti. ‘It’s only for 5-6 minutes’ Punditji was explaining. As we walked over the bridge the loudspeaker bellowed the Aarti .It was Anuradha Paudwal’s sweet voice. She was joined by thousands of devotees who sang in harmony to her chantings. As we sat on the foot steps of the bridge slowly the scene unfolded itself.
The Ganges was flowing rapidly between the two banks of the ghat. On one side was the clock tower opposite Har ki paudi or pairi, a familiar site , having seen  so many of its pictorial representations before and on the other side were the temples of Ganga Mataji. The area is woven into promenades, river channels and bridges that create a pleasant riverfront ambience, with the major ghats and religious activity clustered around the Har-ki-Pairi temple. Metal chains are placed in the river to protect bathers from being swept away by swift currents.
 It was dusk and the spectacular daily ceremony of Ganga Arati was being witnessed by thousands of people spawned onto both sides of the embankment. The priests were holding the huge brass oil lamps, which were tapering upwards in a spiral of seven storey. On every level,  oil lamps were housed in a neat circular array. The lamps set alight and aglow, gave a feeling of a towering mountain of fire, petering out as it rose. The priests were waving the lamp in encirclement to the tune of the music, the conches and the gongs. What a site. There were 21 such aartis across the ghat and as the flames or deepshikhas swayed up and down, their reflection in the rapidly flowing waters of the Ganges created dancing flames on water. Coupled with the cool breeze , it was a melting point of heat and cold.
The atmosphere was laden rich in holiness and one felt so blessed to have been able to witness the sight.  While the eyes were shut in reverence, the next moment they were opening to seep in the beautiful sight that lay in front. The mind and body struggle – whether to look inward or look outward. While you were amidst thousands of people, yet you were all alone merged with the divinity.
 In minutes, the Aarti was concluded and the crowd dispersed. The punditji promised us that the next day we would be able to actually stand at the banks with oil lamps in hand and do the Gangarti ourselves. The very next day we were ushered into one of the temples lined up at the embankment. There was recital and chanting, the priest, performed the pooja and we followed though the rituals that finally culminated into the Aarti described above.
After the Aarti, the priest took a lamp that was placed on a bed of flowers in a small boat made out of leaves. All eco freindly material I noted. In fact there was no use of plastic bags either, anywhere in Haridwar, I had observed.  He took us to the embankment once again and with the mighty Ganges as the witness recited some mantras. Now a new scene unfurled itself and the priest while reciting prayers took promises from us to feed the poor, the Brahmins and the cows. He also requested us to make a sankalpa of offering ghee for the lamps. It all sounded so very pious and divine. After all charity, service and holiness go hand in hand, we thought. At the end of it all we lay the leaf boats in the river and the lamps kept flowing with the river current far far away into anonymity.
With our hearts full, our spirits enlivened and our soul levitated we came back to the temple. The priest told us that the promises that we made on the banks translated to Rs. 12001/- .That was the shock of the day. All the positivity and elation just evaporates when you realize that all along, the priest was viewing us as a bakra for fleecing a good sum.  As I reflect back I think the priests have been implanted there by the Almighty so that suddenly there is not an upsurge of thousands of souls seeking salvation. So the priests, by their devious ways of demanding a ransom, do the role of bringing us back to the material world with a bang or a thud. We settled for a sum that we had predefined in our mind but in the process we learnt a valuable lesson. When we live in a material world, like any other service, the pricing of this service should have been decided by us well in advance. After all it is said that administration cannot be run on emotions.

Yet on a positive note, the Ganga Aarti  is one of the most structured charismatic presentations of the divinity by mankind, which gives an immense sense of fulfillment. Truly Haridwar – the gate of the Lord.

Anagha Hunnurkar
5th November 2011