Monday Musings- 41

The journey to Lansdowne sucked the charm out of travelling on a holiday. The driver (who was to journey us) turned up three hours late, carrying Gurgaon on his tongue. And, his demeanor. We snarled past Gurgaon, breezed through Delhi and took the gently swaying road to Lansdowne. Not a hurdle on the highway. Just shadows of trees, and whispers in the car. And, the occasional mutter from the disgruntled driver. Sleep was turning him in, he would much rather have stayed the night by the side of a greasy, expensive roadside dhaba under a banner that welcomed Sehwag to the city of Meerut. Our impatience won him over.

But, Lansdowne arrived only at the crack of dawn. Stones were pelted at a sleepy Government Rest House, where none but a soft-eyed guest came to our rescue. He directed us back to the chowk, where morning had come. The gurgles from a bathroom, the day’s first strollers…

After a battle with the driver, we took our bags up the winding staircase to Room 101. Mayur Hotel, crafted out of thin sheets of plywood, cheap wallpaper, gaudy colour and whining beds. Our rooms were as if cast out of inexpensive, hand-me-down comic strips with families in cottages. And, a fairy-tale perfect window that overlooked the hills for miles…

The sun glimmered in the distance. We awoke to the smell of chicken curry and soft warm chapattis at a run-me-down restaurant, Tip See. Then, we walked to the sunset. A house in a tree, a boat in a lake, a swirl on a swing…

And, the quiet walk back to the chowk. Tip See had turned into our favoured place for a meal. After dinner, we strolled around and round the chowk. A nip in the air, a hand in a hand. A handful of women by the garden. A young girl and another playing badminton. And two old women on a bench, in a park engaged in lazy conversation.

The wind lulled us into slumber. We awoke to brunch, chicken masala and fresh salad tossed to perfection. And, washed it down with a huff and a puff, a climb on a hill in the afternoon sun. How our bodies have withered like our souls, in the city.

The journey from Lansdowne to home, was just as ghastly. A maze of cars, and gawking town men in a bus. We slumped like a pack of cards when we stepped through the door. The stillness of Lansdowne left behind. The joy of nothing to do, quickly gone. The bitterness of dissatisfaction by mediocrity slowly creeping in…

And, lifting, at last,and only this Monday...

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