A Lot Can Happen Over A Cup Of Coffee

A Lot Can Happen Over A Cup Of Coffee


I had never imagined how a casual mention "...Chal Manali ghum aatein hain..." over a cup of coffee, could spark off An impromptu trip. But, then thats how we were. The trip made with a few college friends covering, Manikaran, Kullu, Manali, Rohtang Pass, Bhakra Nagal Dam, via Chandigarh, almost 3 decades ago, has remained in my memories for many reasons.

We were just out of College. At that time Punjab was going through turmoil just after operation Blue Star so our families were not too keen to let us make the trip. However, we went on. First we were stopped at Chandigarh and were asked to produce our papers. We learnt our first touring lesson here. Don’t drink and drive and always carry your IDs when ever you travel. Since the trip was alike a stag party, Booze literally flowed in the Matador and guys on board were high on booze.

The driver and I were the only two odd teetotalers, leaving me to do the talking as the rest of the gang held tightly on to their horses struggling to resisted speaking their minds out to the inquisitive cops. Fortunately, I was already working and my ID papers and a small ‘chai paani’ saved the day. We moved on snaking our way via breathtaking picturesque Bilaspur heights towards Manali via Manikaran. We were driving all day and wanted to do the undoable… reach Manikaran the same evening. I was on the front seat with our Nepali driver with my eyes glued to the darkness ahead. Form the corner of my eyes I thought I saw the drivers head loll forward for a very brief moment. I thought I was wrong. A few moments later the head lolled again, this time I was sure I saw it happen. In the beam of the Matador, I saw white curb stones lined across the mountain road rush towards the Matador. A split second reflex had me yank on the steering to move away from the stones in the nick of time. I asked Raju what the matter was… “ Oh, nothing I was just seeing the road ahead was all he could mumble apologetically…”. This was the first and last time I had ever seen anyone trying to see what lay beyond the white curb stones while on the wheels. Neither do I envy anyone trying it out either.

Though it was not my idea to drive all through the night, I felt guilty on part of the group for pushing him through the night. We stopped and made Raju lie down and rest for some time before we resumed our journey.  Thus I learnt the next lesson on traveling: Never to push beyond your physical endurance when ever driving (Particularly on the hills). This trip however remains memorable for other reasons than these incidents.

We were over with our original itenery Manikaran, Manali, Kullu, we were returning to Chandigarh via Bhakra Dam when suddenly one of our friends proposed to include Shimla on our return leg. Like a bunch of brats just out of school, "Shimla, Shimla, Shimla…" rented the air in the van. Those of us who were working sprang up in decline since we had jobs to return to. A debate ensued and at the end of it, since it was an easy detour without upsetting the schedule  too much, Naina Devi was included in place of Shimla.

We had been driving all day and were still on the hills this time heading for Naina Devi and enlightened from our earlier experience, we thought it would be wise to take a break and a quick dinner. Though it was barely 7 pm, darkness had engulfed the hill side and we halted at the first Dhaba that came our way. The guys were packing up and were almost leaving. Strangely, they didn’t need any persuasion to prepare a dinner of daal (Lentil) and chawal (Rice) for us. Dinner was cooked as we stretched on the charpoys [cots] at the Dhaba. A few trucks passed by but none stopped by. Before long dinner was ready and served on clean fresh ceramic plates with unusually large portions of rice. As we helped ourselves to the delicious daal chawal, one of us, I don’t remember who it was, remarked “itna chawal”… so much rice... The Dhaba owner read the remark as “only this much rice..” and he served us some more. A person suddenly appeared from the darkness carrying a jar in his hands… “Sahab achar le lo...” (Sir have some pickles please…) and he served a couple of spoons of mango pickles to each one of us… Those were the tastiest Mango pickles I have ever tasted… I still can’t forget the taste.

Over with the dinner we paid the owner two rupees each for one of the best suppers of my life. We left for the remaining leg to Naina Devi. Barely two minutes later, a boy suddenly remembered he had left behind his new sports shoes at the Dhaba. Cursing and poking jokes at him were returned to the Dhaba. This time the place was absolutely deserted… but there was something eerie about the place. Our friend who had disembarked suddenly cried out to us. We rushed down to find out what had gone wrong. Probably a dog must have been chewing on one of the shoes, we were thinking.
We found our friend pointing towards the hearth. In the moonlight, we could clearly see the currency notes we had paid for the dinner strewn about the hearth and the hearth was stone cold. No plates around, no jar of pickle… absolutely nothing was there to prove that barely five minutes ago we had dinner cooked and eaten at this place. I thought I saw the driver shiver as he asked the guy to leave the currency notes as they were, when he had moved to collect them. We were out of our wits and didn’t know how to react. The driver hastily made for the Matador. We followed him and reached Naina Devi in silence at around midnight.

We’ve been to many other trips, and, the topic has been discussed many times over trying to guess, who fed us at the dhaba that fateful night. Being science graduates, we tried our best to explain the unexplainable. One of us even went to the extent scientifically supporting the  saying that strangely, though every one had eaten to his capacity, no one had the nature calling in the next morning. That was indeed a truth. We were all quiet probably pondering over what he claimed and were accepting the fact that even though accepting paranormal was simply far fetched, yet nothing else was more convincing.

Probably, a lot can happen over a cup of coffee.

The Midnight Rendezvous

A cousin from Ahmadabad had dropped in, after a very long time. We were sharing our memoirs and travel experiences and soon, our tete-a-tete wound itself around , perhaps one of the most sought after travel topics, ... about the paranormal experiences of road rangers.

Not all Bengal Villages are well connected. While some have metaled roads others still need to be traversed by foot

Actually I had been to Kolkata some time back and was recounting to my cousin a very recent experience by my maternal uncle. My maternal uncle, Mamaji, is a medic by profession, and a truly down to earth charitable person with a passion to go and reach out to masses in the remotest of villages in Bengal. His other passion is to fix up and run what others think is dead and thing of the past and not worth a thought be it a human being or an object from the material World. It is this fire in the heart that has seen him fix up two vehicles, a M-800 and an old Amby which satisfy his third passion; of traveling, in the form of numerous trips to the distant Bengal villages.

It was during the summer vacations I had a chance to ride the Amby when he had come to receive us at Sealdah Station. When the 8 of us including the driver had reached our destination a good 60 km from Kolkata, a beaming Mamaji asked me how I felt about the ride and the car. Frankly, all the while as I sat on the front seat of the car during the ride from Kolkata, I had this uncanny feeling that the AC was running outside the car instead of inside. I didn't have the heart or courage to tell Mamaji that the AC evaporator and the condenser were perhaps not in the places they were ought to be. I confess, I smiled and lied... and lied.

Most of Mamaji's experiences is woven around this old Amby. By the time I had heard enough of Mamaji's tales, I had this feeling that I wouldn't be surprised if one fine day, the old Amby vanished into thin air, not in the Bermuda or Golden Triangle, but in some unheard of desolate Bengal hamlet.

It was a moonless humid monsoon night. Mamaji was returning from Udaynarainpur a remote village in West Bengal. Naresh his driver was uttering something. Leaving behind the chain of thoughts he was deeply engrossed in, Mamaji instinctively looked at the the old faithful HMT, on his wrist. The needles showed it was close to 2am. “Sair aapnio ki kisu suntae parsen...?” (Sir ar you also hearing something?) Naresh asked again. There were sounds of bell tinkling all around. Staring out into the pitch darkness Mamaji was trying to gather where they were going through. It was Naresh once again announcing their location. They were still a couple of hours away from home.

Serene country side roads weaving through dense forests and vegetation can be frightening to travel on at night

The tinkling of bells was getting louder and louder as they approached a nearby village. A couple of minutes later Naresh brought the car to a halt. In front of them blocking the narrow carraigeway was a broken down truck. A man reeking with the smell of alcohol, approached them and demanded where they were heading for. Naresh had standing instructions not to give or offer lifts or talk to strangers so he kept quiet while Mamaji did the talking. Mamaji rolled down the window and told him who he was and where he had to go. “Yes, yes I know... arn't you dagdar (Doctor) babu, I've heard about you, but Sir this truck won't move it has a broken axle. You roll your car down the slope of the carrageway and you will find a path leading to the old Kali Mandir, follow the path around the Kali Mandir and you will find the path meeting this highway...” saying this he jumped down to the pathway beckoning Mamaji. Naresh slowly eased the car down the slope and proceeded as directed by the man.

Soon they could see the Kali Temple in the beam from the car. The sounds of ringing bells had also increased and Mamaji was convinced they were coming from the Temple. But something seemed odd. The temple was closed and not a single soul was to be seen. Then who were ringing the bells? “kire Naresh Ki hochhe aei shob...” (Hey Naresh what do you think is happening...?) Mamaji heard himself asking Naresh. They were passing by the temple and the sounds of the bells were deafening. Naresh without stopping the car sped on towards the highway. As they approached the highway the sound receded then completely stopped. Both Mamaji and Naresh were drenched in perspiration. Naresh was now speeding on the highway. Suddenly the car screeched to a halt. In front of them stood a white goat right in the middle of the highway. It sprinted away from them in the direction of the beam from the car and as it moved away, it seemed to morph itself to a cow and then to a villager draped in whites. They could hear in the silence of the night a male voice muttering “Jaa aei jatrae benchegeli... jaa bari ja shigiri...” (Go you have just been saved this time... go, go home quickly...), saying this the form vanished into thin air. With a start Mamaji looked out of the window, hoping to find the speaker of those words, but there was no one to be seen.

Dilapidated structures like the ones show ar not uncommon in Bengal villages and the village folk believe they come alive in the middle of the night.

Due to the sudden application of brakes, the car had stalled. Naresh, after putting it in neutral gear, switched off the headlights and twisted the ignition key to start the engine. Nothing happened. They were stalled in the middle of nowhere. Naresh tried his best to revive the old braveheart but it would not oblige. Far behind them they could hear the approach of a vehicle. Tension was beginning to build up and Mamaji alighted from the car to help Naresh move it away from the middle of the road. As they were heaving and pushing a vehicle stopped behind them. It was a truck. Mamaji went up to the driver and requested the driver if he would tow them to the nearest service garage. The driver readily obliged. The three some along with the cleaner of the truck pushed Mamaji's car aside to make way for the truck. A little later they were on the move again, This time Mamaji's in his Amby towed by the truck.

Mamaji was again looking at his watch, it was close to 3:30 am and in the horizon he could now make out the silhouette of known landmarks which fell on the way. “Naresh isn't there a garage about a kilometer down this place....?” Mamaji had barely spoken these words, the car suddenly came back to life. The headlights were shining brightly and in the Beam Mamaji could clearly see the back of the truck, which was now moving away from them. The registration plate of the truck and the brightly painted scenery on back panels of the truck. They were the same ones they had seen some time ago on the truck with the broken axle standing in the middle of the road. Neither Mamaji nor Naresh, realised when the rope connecting the truck to the car had come off.

Naresh stepped on the gas pedal to catch up with the truck which had by this time disappeared. They drove on along the straight highway at various speeds, but the truck could not be traced. Some months later, Mamaji while traveling on the same highway, but, this time in broad daylight, stopped by the village temple and had tried to talk to the locals. No one was willing talk on the issue, instead every one he tried to talk simply said no one goes near the temple after sunset.

Mamaji is unmoved and he still goes to far flung places to offer free medical services and still has to travel during unearthly hours. Though a little shaken from the incedent, Naresh still drives Mamaji to places. Mamaji however believes, that on the fateful day, Naresh and he were steered away from some disaster by friendly spirits.

Note :
Pictures used in this blog have been clicked in Bengal country side and villages and have been used to represent the kind of Country side and Terrain my Mamaji traverses to treat patients and are not directly related to the places mentioned in the Blog. Any similarities in the locations mentioned in the blog to the pictures is purely coincidental.