It’s time to come around the same edge I’ve been trying to corner since an year now. Our life carves the events perfectly in the very way the destination is meant to reach. The same happened with my life at Ghoghamba…
My deputation to Ghoghamba was a boon in disguise. Life took a beautiful turn with the lined trees waiting for me, the branches waving a happy ‘Hello’ to me as I pass by on my scooty. Back at Gandhinagar, a false city I must say, I correctly remember the patch of road I reached when a particular song from my everyday playlist while driving, plays in my ears.
The urge to reach next destination by the end of this song or by the arrival of that particular line from the song would cover my mind, and a call from some colleague would break my thought process to bring me back in the present and then it would dawn upon me that I’m not driving to Ghoghamba anymore.
The place has it’s own charm along with the people. Being at Ghoghamba has calmed me down quite a lot and I would always look forward to the drive to Ghoghamba more than the drive back to home at Halol. It was as if the place made me fall in love with itself and its roads as I became a regular traveller.
My characters of observation were very limited there with whom I hardly interacted. Also, I made a few acquaintances which helped me pass my time and made my stay there peaceful. Meena ben used to open her shop at around 11:30 am, and my point of friendship there was Tea. Back at the office, there weren’t any interesting characters. Another one I used to observe was the Rajasthan Kulfi wala, who always met me on my way to office after I crossed Ranjitnagar. It was fun to greet this distant acquaintance and zoom past by him. He used to leave home with his Icecream truck just when I reached near Ranjitnagar. And I used to overtake him every single day. Finding him on the way made me assured that I was just on time.
Back on my ride home, it was the company of trees lined up on both sides of the road and the blissful lake by the sacred hill kept me company. As soon as I would be well near my place, I’d stop by for my evening tea at Bharti ben’s small shop. Listening to her stories sometimes, and even attending to her customers I relished my tea. I’d even offer to look after her shop while she was away to bring stock of merchandise. It made me feel most humble when I used to pour out tea for customers, of which most were poor and needy, or handing packets of tobacco’s and masala to young men working in factories. My evenings back in town would be spent mainly in grocery shopping and trying out new places of street food as there were not a single good restaurant nearby. Thus the nights would pass in the wait of a lazy dawn, and all set I would look upon going to office on a comfortable ride.
I must say my scooty lived the days with me, thoroughly giving in her best. Had she not be there, I’d have been struggling the time around in the muddy town of Halol and the everyday blissful ride to Ghoghamba would have been a ride of a frightful stress. An year post the brief time I spent there, I never thought it would have been so rewarding inspite of itself that I miss it the most as the favorite part of the journey.
