Today was a typical dreary English day. The Mission hills had their tops covered in clouds. The ground was wet; you heard the scrunch of wet pavement when you walked on it. Birds seldom flew away, if only to escape an oncoming car. The air was fresh, crisp, and the breeze gave you goose pimples without freezing the skin; the way only a winter morning can. The fog lent a deceptively sleepy, dreamy feel to an otherwise breakneck day that most people have here.
Maya spoke very less on the way to school, except for “This is my favorite song appa!” to everything that came out of our car radio. I smiled looking at her in the rear view mirror. She watched the distant mountains as she listened to the music. It took me back almost a couple of decades, to the winter of 1993. Everything about today; the fog, breeze and the wet ground, reminded me of the day of Kuzhali’s wedding.
Kuzhali, my buddy Saru’s sister, was loved by all for the cheer she surrounded herself with. I was in my first-ever job, in Bangalore, and the wedding was 300 km away in Coonoor. I had zero vacation days accrued, but there was no doubt of if I could make it to the wedding, but by when. Ooty and Coonoor had received a record rainfall that year, and there was imminent danger of landslides. Rampant denuding of the forests and housing developments had made the landslides a common occurrence by that time. I somehow managed to board a bus the night before the wedding and hoped that we would make it in time without incident.
A night’s bus journey later, I found myself standing at the Coonoor bus depot at 5AM. There was a slight drizzle, and a chilly fog covered everything. Dogs barked not too far away. A man was setting up his tea stall. We chatted a bit while I sipped the first cup of delicious tea he made for the day. I had misplaced the wedding invitation. All I knew was that it was in a hall close to a church in town. The tea-man told me it was 5 km away, and pointed me in the right direction. I hauled my soggy backpack and set out. The directions were pretty straight-forward; “Just take this road up the hill and you will see the church."
There were no cars on the road, save a couple of cows grazing on cinema posters and fresh grass of the season. I could not help smile to myself. It was the first holiday I had taken as a professional. Daylight was fast approaching, and the scenery lit up with spectacular vistas. There were little houses on one side, and tall trees on the other. Rolling hills everywhere, and the smell of flowers hung in the air. I was soaked to the skin, and I could not feel my nose. The pavement gave off a delicious scrunch as I walked uphill.
I must have walked about 2 km, when I heard a loud honk. I turned around and a couple of familiar heads poked out of the taxi. It was my sister, and my soon-to-be-brother-in-law. They had a hunch I would be coming that day and would probably be walking. We did not have cell phones back then. So there were more coincidences and lucky hunches when people made decisions by the seat of their pants.
2 km of walking was good enough for me, and I really needed to shower. I hopped in. Things had turned out better than I had expected. I looked forward to meeting all my friends, and trade stories.
Dreary days remind me of that morning, and brings warmth to the heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment