One day sitting in the office, I saw a picture of green waters with white sand on Facebook beauty of which was beyond comprehension. The place was Parshuram Kund. I knew, I just wanted to be there.
But the only problem was that it was a cool 3,270 kilometres from Mumbai. Fast forward 10 months, this is what happened.
Parshuram Kund. Pic – rajkumar1220 | Flickr
It was 3 in the afternoon and the sun was setting fast. I was travelling along with five other men in a rusty bus to the Eastern most settlement of the country, Wakro in Arunachal Pradesh. The wind was getting colder, making it difficult to breathe and to add to the misery the path we were on was Brahmaputra’s dried river bed, which meant we had to pass through a never ending cloud of dust. I tried to divert my mind off it, but could not.
I’d travelled continuously for thirteen days across Bhutan & NE India and that day was the fourteenth. I was mentally worn out. Carrying 14 odd kilos and walking long distances, travelling almost every night was no joke. It sucked!
I wanted to return home, but the greed to have more, to see more, to absorb more within the 18 day leave period, overtook me almost every single time I thought of returning. Thus the seemingly endless travel.
When I reached Wakro it was 5:10 PM, the wind froze and it was pitch dark with no mobile network and no street lights. One shop selling some soaps and essentials had a dim light burning in the distance. When I enquired with them, I got to know that there were no hotels or Inspection Bungalows there. That moment I lost it completely.
I was tired, worn out and hungry; wind was freezing and the worst part; I realized I’d be spending a lonely night in the forest village on the side of the road. But there was one last hope of getting a place to sleep if not food.
When you travel this crazy and end up in strange places there are two things you should look out for – nearest railway station or in worst case like this – a Government school. The shop guy confirmed me that there was a school and I was relieved. I entered the school complex to find it empty – 3:30 PM is when it shuts!
Attached to it was a hostel. That probably was the first time I felt so happy seeing a girls hostel! To hell with gender bias, I thought as I opened the cranky iron gate and entered the complex. A caretaker was sitting near the entrance, and I did the usual Namaste and told him my situation. He checked my passport, listened to me patiently and told me it was a wrong time to come, but offered me a chair to sit on. I felt relieved for the first time since the previous night. I said I’m ready to pass on the smiling Gandhis and all I wanted was some hot food and a place to sleep. He smiled and asked me to wait.
In a place which is the last town on the Indian border and where no one goes in the winters, when you’re stuck without food and a place to sleep, little would you expect that you’d spend the evening chatting about politics, religion, playing with two hyperactive kids and their nameless cat, have suji ka halwa and hot food, sitting by the room heater. Some call it luck; I call it my mom’s prayers.
The caretaker was a teacher, Mr. Bhattacharya. He and his family have been the most generous hosts I’ve seen till date. Even to this day I do not know what convinced him to trust me, treat so well & not charge a single penny!
P.S Its experiences like these, which started compelling me to help complete strangers whom I might not meet again in life. Probably, I secretly wish to be THAT answer to someone’s mother’s prayers like Mr.Bhattacharya was to my mom’s.
You can find rest of the pics here-
https://www.facebook.com/prabhavgd/media_set?set=a.10151316850183914.493180.745718913&type=3
Twitter handle- @prabhavgd
****
You can also WIN Ashwin Sanghi’s book ’13 Steps to Bloody Good Luck’
by posting your #goodluck story on trhs!
*******