Kanha - VIII

Compared to the long winding sessions of frenzied packing and book-keeping went to the details of the last penny spent the proceedings of our last morning inside Kanha could be safely termed as smooth sailing. Also, there was this crank-call in the lodge office the previous night which sparked off a 'wrong name-wrong number-wrong information' fiasco and made us a little jumpy and break some sweat pacing up and down in consternation. A few calls to our homes and all confusion was put to rest. There had been a mistake and our nerves were sinking back to their slothful-modes again.

But now, rows of big, heavy, intimidating looking luggages stayed lined up on the veranda of the hostel as the six of us kept checking and re-checking if anything was being left behind. Having ensured the intactness of our belongings as on the day of our arrival ( save the cumulative tonnage of biscuits and snacks which were devoured during the course of our stay) we moved towards the tourist-canteen. The plan was to have our breakfasts there and wait for the 12-noon bus to Jabalpur right there. The bus would take us to Jabalpur by 6 in the evening and then after checking in to a 'reasonable' hotel we would make our leisurely survey of the city. As Michael Corleone would put it, " Everything was arranged."

While sipping at our tea, standing in front of the canteen premises, we were made audience to an array of exhilarating acrobatic stunts by a group of animated langurs. They gathered in small bands of 3 to 4 in front of the canteen and while the others waited their turn, one amongst them would make a mad dash for the nearest peepal tree, climbing as high as it could in a single breath and then in one flash, with a sweeping motion, banged its hand at one traffic-board while jumping down to the ground. Then this 'performer' would quietly come back and sit with the other cheering spectators. Soon, there were many contestants and the stands were full of eager audience egging their favorite to pull down that sign-board. As to what offense that seemingly innocuous sign-board posed to their pride we couldn't fathom. What was the most amazing aspect of this entire episode of Langur-limpics was the degree of discipline in their ranks. A recording of the event would have, I thought, considerably bolstered the repeated attempts of our junior-school teachers in inculcating Order into us in a most novel way.
I reckon it would have worked much better with us, 'hooligans'. Alas! We were too early, maybe.



The bus was punctual, both in its arrival and departure, and we were looking through the windows at the shifting scenery of fantastic boulevards, easing the mind to the approaching adventures that lay in store for us in the next leg of our tour.
A ride in a M.P Tourism bus is a revelation for any Kolkata commuter, and that we found to our delight and dismay. Diametrically opposed in nature to the Govt. buses that ply on Kolkata ours looked resolute in keeping every nook and cranny inside the bus occupied, all the time. And for this the conductor would jump out at places and call out the mausis and the taus out of their huts, inquiring if they needed a ride to the sheher or not. Some complied, some declined. Yet, the bus was making good time. Villagers thronged the bus with their produce ( matarfallis and food-plates made out of sal leaves) and we were soon thanking our lucky stars that one of them didn't have a mind this morning to bring along his bachhra or bakra for a bus-ride. The women wore sarees which ranged from graphic greens to revolting reds in colour, but they sat on their skin as naturally as any fabric, blending with their beings. I was instinctively reminded of 'Palamou-er Pothey' , a piece we all read in secondary school chronicling the rural life of the Chhota Nagpur region. And here, in the midst of a personal rendezvous with 'men and women of the soil' I couldn't agree more with the author.

Now came the 'dismay' part. Overcrowding has its own share of discomforts and Dudu faced one unusual variety from amongst them. Harry was safe to the window-side leaving Dudu to endure the rigors of a teeming bus. Amongst all the good natured shoving and pushing one infant took the opportunity of dusting his little feet on Dudu's generous mop of hair, all the while hanging from his mother's grip. Miffed yet helpless, he could only hope that the ordeal would last till the nearest stop. When we arrived at Russel Chowk, which Baeka told us was the Esplanade of Jabalpur, the Sun was dipping fast in the horizon and the streetlights were taking over. Having counted all 14 bags into the safety of our custody it was decided that Baeka and Avik go scouting for the hotel as we four, myself, Dudu, Harry and Alu, stay behind with the luggage. Always the one to break into a conversation, I found a good garrulous company in a auto-driver and soon Shivraj Chauhan's Industrial policy in Madhya Pradesh was being discussed. Also, now having the luxury of being able to avail the cell-phone we were making short-work of Alu's balance. A good two hours were now past and still there were no sign of our emissaries. Avik and Baeka had committed the singularly idiotic mistake of not carrying their cell phones and that put us into a tizzy. The four of us were now growing restless from our long standing vigil and for a moment it was considered if the two of them had fallen in some form of distress or the other. At last the two of them arrived and quickly narrated the difficulty with which two rooms had been arranged. The hotel was expensive but keeping in mind our personal reservations regarding cleanliness and also the over-booked status in most hotels due to the Industrialists' meet this was our best bet. We quickly locked our luggage in the three rooms and after a much deserved breather went out in search of dinner. Just round the corner we met our gastronomic paradise. Saheb's.
The display of chicken kebabs just outside the Dhaba brought water to our mouths and the order was put in all promptness. Believe me, we are the most ravenous yet refined of foodies that we know of within our far-flung circle of friends and acquaintances yet it is our collective vote of assent that Saheb's serves THE best Fried Tawa Chicken. The daily diet of vegetarian food though highly delicious had unknowingly frustrated the flesh-eating demons inside us. And thier wrath was in full view when the chicken was served. Within a flash the plates were empty and more were being ordered. When we were finished with giving the waiters a scare with our relentless orders it was ascertained that each one of us had devoured a bit more than one whole chicken. But, none of us were complaining. We left to plunder the nearest sweet-shop with a promise that Saheb's would be our dinner-joint the next day and any day that we decide to come to Jabalpur again.


The night was lost to 'little revelries' that are so integral to my friends' sense of well being as I slipped off to sleep owing to the exploits of the day.

The next morning had more in store for us. One had to be fresh for its challenges.