Muraura to Mumbai by car - Day 2

Day 2 (4^th March, 2010)

Route

Maihar – Katni – Jabalpur – Seoni – Nagpur

The Maihar Cement complex is located about 10 kms from Maihar town. Driving towards the town at 06:30, we saw the temple of Goddess Shaarda atop the Trikuta hill. Maihar would have remained another unknown and obscure town, but for the temple and Ustad Allauddin Khan – the grand old man of Hindustani classical music.

            Legend has it that Maihar derives its name from Mai(Mother) and Haar(Necklace) because the necklace of Sati is supposed to have fallen atop the hill. Ustad Allauddin Khan – the founder of Maihar Gharana – was a devotee of the Goddess and climbed up the hill (1063 steps) every day. Now, of course, one has the luxury of driving up the hill or using the ropeway. We did not have the time to go atop the hill so we just took a couple of pics from afar and carried on towards Katni.

            Our hearts sank and the horrid experience of yesterday started haunting us once again when we encountered bad roads just beyond Maihar. However, the bad stretch was limited to a few kilometres. We relaxed and started enjoying the picturesque drive.

            A reasonably decent looking dhaba was spotted and not willing to take chances, we stopped for breakfast. It was only 08:00 and the dhaba was just about coming to life. We enjoyed the morning breeze under the shade of a garden umbrella as hot Kanda Poha was prepared for us. It was a tasty and sumptuous breakfast followed by a cup of reasonably OK tea.

            As we drove further south into Madhya Pradesh, the roads kept improving. The traffic was not very heavy either and much to our pleasant surprise there were stretches of extremely good four lane roads as well. In some sections, the road signs indicating the name of the village gave statistics of population as well. What made it interesting, though, were the low population figures of each village. Hardly did we see a sign indicating the population to be beyond 1,000. If only the other Indians could learn from these simple villagers!!!

            We noticed another interesting fact. The total absence of speed breakers. In Bihar, on the other hand, speed breakers – often car breakers – literally litter the roads. They serve a variety of purposes, apart from performing their primary duty of reducing the speed of vehicles. They announce to the world that the village has muscle, so to say, and should not be taken lightly. They also facilitate forcible stoppage of buses and trucks – for free travel. The speed breakers have also been notoriously, though gainfully, employed for looting vehicles at night, though in all fairness, this is not so prevalent now. And last but not the least, the speed breakers come in handy for collecting “donations” for “religious” purposes. These could either be an approaching festival or a temple being constructed. The most common deity presiding over this blatant land grab?  Bajrangbali, reduced by the evil forces of Kaliyug to being the God of Encroachment!!

We kept crossing the cities, towns, villages, hamlets without any problem. Bye passes around the bigger cities and towns helping us save precious time. Driving through the towns without a bye pass was not a problem either – thanks to the absence of congestion on the roads. By 10:00 hrs we were driving through the Jabalpur bye pass. Some enterprising families were engaged in a novel business activity on one of the crossings. They were selling old – indeed, very old and torn as well – cotton saris etc. These cotton rags are great for washing and wiping vehicles. Obviously they had realised this and had made a small business out of it! The ingenuity and business sense of the often illiterate Indians beats the best management gurus!!

 The entire drive was pretty picturesque with stretches of hills, ghats and forests. We would also be driving through the Pench National Park where Rudyard Kipling is supposed to have conceived The Jungle Book. Indeed, if we recall correctly, the town of Seoni is mentioned in The Jungle Book. Seoni is the closest town from this forest which spans across MP as well as Maharashtra.

            Manmeet Singh, the DIG of Police, Seoni had repeatedly suggested that we have lunch at Seoni circuit house. We had, however, demurred. “Don’t worry, we will have lunch somewhere in a dhaba”, we had confidently proclaimed. Aaaah, the misplaced confidence of the ignorant!!!

The Seoni bye pass was only partially complete. So we started looking for a hotel, motel, dhaba, fast food joint – any eating place – as we negotiated through a part of the town. None could be located. Unfazed, Rituraj was confidence personified and declared, “No problems, we will find a good dhaba ahead”. It was approaching 13:00 hrs as we drove out of Seoni. The hunt for a good dhaba had begun.

The stretch between Seoni and Nagpur had a lot of dhabas, but the bevy of trucks parked around these deterred us from stopping. We had, by now, forgotten the joys of enjoying the scenic beauty; were keenly eyeing each passing dhaba instead and started noticing their names. The ubiquitous, Sher-e-Punjab Dhaba and Khalsa Dhaba were of course there. But so were Bengal Tiger Dhaba, Kaithal Haryana Dhaba, Mathurawale UP Dhaba and even one Bihar Calcutta Dhaba! Practically all the States were represented, except the four South Indian and the seven North Eastern States. Probably the dhabas proclaimed their state of origin to attract the fellow truckers, we surmised. But why were these states not mentioned? We could not, however, find any answer to the riddle. Any help in solving it would be highly appreciated.

The primary goal of having lunch still evaded us. We did come across some dhabas which were not swarming with trucks. However, when Rituraj enquired, “Should we stop”, Jenny gave the classic statement “शेर भूखा मर जाएगा पर घास नहीं खायेगा" (A tiger would rather die than eat grass)! And so we drove on, reading the name of each dhaba and trying to locate a dhaba good enough for the “शेरनी” (Tigress)!!

None could be found though. It was almost 14:00 hrs. We did not have any sandwiches and kebabs either. Suddenly, we saw a dhaba without a single vehicle. A forlorn bicycle adorned the large parking area.  “Let us stop here”, Jenny said and dutifully the driver obeyed the command of the navigator.

“खाना मिलेगा?” (Can you provide lunch?), elicited an indolent but affirmative nod. A rather more energetic reply came to the query, “क्या - क्या है?” (What all is available?), and a long list was rattled off. We ordered the simplest items, and settled down to wait amidst the blaring sound of a TV. A few men languidly watched some inane Hindi film (nothing strange – most of them are inane anyway). We politely requested them to lower the volume. They impassively stared back. We gesticulated and we mimed. In unison they swivelled their heads back towards the TV. Obviously they did not believe in the dictum, “Customer is king”!! Resignedly we waited for lunch.

Lunch consisted of dal fry, aloo gobi, anda bhurji, roti and mineral water. The tastiest items – mineral water and Roti!! Pangs of hunger had forced the "शेर"  and "शेरनी" (Tiger & Tigress) to eat grass!!! 

Nugget of wisdom : Do not be overconfident when driving on unknown routes.

            After Pench National Park we were in Maharashtra and speed breakers now sprang up with a vengeance! Every town, village and hamlet had at least two sets of rumble strips. Other than this irritant, the journey remained pleasant even in the intense afternoon heat.

 We were to stay at the Guest House of Western Coalfields and knew that it was in the Civil Lines. So we kept asking for directions from polite traffic cops and not so polite auto drivers. We reached Civil Lines alright, but finding the guest house was not going to be easy. Up and down we drove, when suddenly the navigator rose to the occasion and shouted, “There it is”. We were bang opposite the guest house.

By 16:15 we were in the room after covering a distance of 456 kms. Not in a mood to venture out in the intense dry heat of Nagpur we enjoyed a siesta instead. A leisurely evening of watching TV and a tasty, wholesome dinner concluded our second day of adventure. Despite the siesta we slept early – tomorrow was going to be a long day indeed.

Muraura to Mumbai by car - Day 1

            Rituraj wanted a proper run in for the vehicle before embarking on a truly long drive. Muraura – Jamshedpur – Muraura took care of that and we were now ready for our first long drive. It was going to be Muraura – Mumbai.

            Everyone who heard was bewildered, aghast and sceptical (not necessarily in that order). Their reactions were enough to have deterred the weak. We were made of stronger stuff though.

However, Holi was approaching. The departure date had to be after Holi to avoid the hooliganism, unruly behaviour and public drunkenness. Preparations picked up speed – we now had a deadline to keep. Gradually, the route was identified, places of night halt earmarked, the logistics worked out, and we were ready. Rituraj contacted his old friend, Rishi Shukla of MP cadre. Rishi was going to be of great help throughout our journey. No words of gratitude can describe the genial hospitality displayed by him. Thank you Rishi Shukla.

Day 1 (3^rd March, 2010)

Route

Muraura – Varanasi – Mirzapur – Rewa – Maihar

When planning to drive 650 kms, it makes sense to stretch the day. The departure was scheduled for 05:00 hrs. Rituraj was up at 03:00. His day starts with a long gestation!! Despite the early hour a couple of our relatives came to see us off. These touching gestures now limited only to rural India. We finally left at 05:15 hrs. – 15 minutes behind schedule but on our way.

It was still dark and a cool gentle breeze made the early morning chilly. In a few minutes we were crossing the town of Biharsharif. A typical, congested, overcrowded town of Bihar. But there were people – lots of them – on the road, even this early. Most of them headed either towards the bus stand or the station. Holi had been celebrated on 1^st and they were now returning. Trains and buses were going to remain packed for a couple of days.

Negotiating through the winding lanes of Biharsharif takes almost half an hour during the day. The early morning hour, however, ensured that we were on the highway within a few minutes. We would soon be driving past the ruins of the ancient Nalanda University and through Rajgir (Rajgriha) the capital of mighty Mauryan Empire and the place where Chanankya wrote Arthashashtra, his timeless treatise on statecraft. 

Nalanda is a nondescript village now – far removed from glorious past. Rajgir is somewhat better off, thanks to the Hot Springs and the interest of the Buddhists from across the world. But a sad commentary on what it was, to what it has been reduced to. It is difficult to visualise that these nondescript places once reverberated with the sound of intellectually stimulating debate attracting scholars from all civilisations. Equally hard is it to imagine that this area – of around 20 kms diameter – had attracted both Buddha and Mahavira. Pawapuri, where Mahavira attained nirvana, is as nondescript as Nalanda.

Today, however, the district of Nalanda – home to Rajgir, Nalanda, Pawapuri etc. – is notorious for illegal arms manufacturing and has the dubious distinction of being home to Ranjeet Don – the mastermind behind the medical entrance scam. What a fall!! Weep my poor district, weep. What you were and what you have been reduced to!!

By 07:00 we were cruising past Bodh Gaya, the place where Buddha attained wisdom. The steeple of the Mahabodhi temple was resplendent in the early morning sunlight. We drove past the temples of Japan, Thailand, Sri Lanka, China and once again marvelled at the rich cultural heritage of these areas.

Immediately thereafter, we were on NH 2, merrily enjoying the early morning drive on the four lane Golden Quadrilateral as the Tavera kept devouring kilometres. We could not but remember our earlier sojourns on the same road – about 15 years back. Rituraj was then posted as the Supdt. Police of Rohtas district and we used to take the same route for our visits home. The drive used to be a pain then. The roads used to be narrow, full of gigantic pot holes and often clogged with heavy traffic. Thanks to GQ and the NHAI we could now bury the ghosts of the past and cruise in comfort.

Jenny had packed some sandwiches, kebabs and some tea in an insulated mug. Some of the tea spilled out and the rest became almost cold – so much for the insulated mug. We had it nonetheless. We also tried sandwiches and kebabs but it was too early for breakfast.

As we drove across the 4 km long bridge across the River Sone nostalgia set in. The attempts at trying to locate the residence of SP Rohtas, however, failed. Sasaram would come soon we knew. But the NH 2 now skirts around Sasaram and it was only when we reached Shivsagar did we realise that we have crossed Sasaram. Sasaram, by the way, is famous for the Tomb of Shershah.

Suddenly, just beyond Shivsagar we saw a closed Reliance outlet with a functional A-1. We drove in to be welcomed with warm greetings. The warmth of the greeting and the cleanliness of the place turned the proposed tea break into a breakfast break of sumptuous aloo parathas and curd. Jenny sadly wondered as to the fate of sandwiches and kebabs. Much later would we realise and appreciate their true worth!

By 10:30 we were approaching Varanasi. We were to leave NH 2 at Varanasi and take NH 7 to Mirzapur. Jenny, the navigator, was hawk eyed. But nothing indicated a turn for Mirzapur. Confident that the NHAI would surely have a signage we kept driving and were on the bridge over River Ganges. As he drove onto the bridge, Rituraj mumbled dejectedly, “The turn was probably before the bridge”. “But there was no signage”, replied Jenny. And so we drove on, expecting to see a sign indicating a turn for Mirzapur. No sign guided us though. We asked for directions at the toll booth. And the grumpy fellow told us the turn was ahead. Either he had fought with his wife, or his superior had shouted at him, or he was constipated, or all three – he had led us in the opposite direction!!!

Nugget of wisdom : Don’t be shy of repeatedly asking for directions.

The outskirts of Varanasi arrived, but obviously we could not find the turn – it was by now quite far behind us. Totally confused, we went to a fuel station and asked for directions. The attendant was decent enough to confess his ignorance. Varanasi was well and truly behind us by now. We had managed to lose our way!! We were flummoxed, so in true corporate style, the driver and the navigator held a brain storming cum strategy session.

The outcome : do not reverse, carry on till Allahabad on NH 2 and go straight to Rewa from there. Allahabad was less than 100 kms and soon we reached the bye pass.  Sobered by our experience, we were now asking for directions with a vengeance. We were directed to leave the bye pass and drive towards Allahabad city.

This road was a far cry from the NH and was ill maintained too. Stoically we carried on – what else could we have done anyway!! It would have been too demoralizing to get lost a second time. So, we sought directions at a Police Station, beseeched some auto drivers, disappointed a few fuel pump attendants and pestered a couple of traffic constables. The upshot of it all was that we were on the road to Rewa!!!

Our elation – doubled by a superb four lane road – was going to evaporate soon. After a deceptive few kilometres the road turned bad, gradually became worse and suddenly vanished altogether. It was nothing but monstrous craters now. The clouds of dust often forcing us to stop completely. With the windows rolled up and the AC switched on, we were safe from the dust in our cocoon, but not from being jolted continuously. This apology of a road was going to hound us almost till Mangawan – 100 kms from Allahabad! 3 hours of pure anguish!! And no dhaba where we could stop!!! We truly appreciated the sandwiches and kebabs now. The only solace to our battered bodies and grumbling tummies!

From Mangawan we joined NH 7 – yes the very same that we should have taken at Varanasi. The road was better now. However, we were to remain sceptical till after we had crossed Rewa. By now our tired bodies craved tea. So we stopped at a decrepit dhaba and thoroughly enjoyed the rotten tea. Rituraj utilised the time to give the windshield a thorough wash and thus refreshed we carried on towards Maihar.

Despite having lost a lot of time we reached Maihar at 18:40. Locating the place of stay was however going to take some more time and by the time we reached the Maihar Cement complex it was 19:30. Distance covered 708 Kms in 14+ hours. Not bad at all, we thought. A relaxing bath, a sumptuous vegetarian dinner and blissful slumber followed in quick succession.

Tomorrow would be a better day.

Enjoy, Cope, Hope - Life is a Breeze

            Life without constant electricity!! You shudder at the mere thought. Yet this is a given in rural Bihar. Power corrupts; and uninterrupted power corrupts uninterruptedly!!! Therefore, to keep the simple rural folks of Bihar uncorrupted, electricity plays the game of hide and seek.  It always hides and you always seek. And this in the hottest April in a decade! The heat is sweltering, the sun mercilessly scorching, the dust laden westerly winds agonisingly searing, the barren lands parched – and no electricity for hours on end. A state of total and complete powerlessness (pun intended).    

            Bihar is making rapid progress. The annual growth rate achieved in the last fiscal is an impressive 11%, next only to Gujrat. NDTV has crowned the Hon’ble CM as the Entrepreneur of the Year, New York Times has published a gushing story on the progress of Bihar.  And yet we remain powerless. The state blames the centre and the centre blames the state. Merry go round!!! It is easy to become cynical, but cynicism is not going to bring electricity; so you learn to enjoy, to cope and to hope!!

            You discover the subtle but supreme advantages of rural life. Chilled water baths during the sweltering summers. Natural, non-polluting, free of cost – available only in rural India!!! Confused?? Nature is the answer. A bath with water straight out of a subterranean source – wells, tube wells, whatever – is the most chilled out experience. And it happens only in (rural) India. Water is not rationed either. No nightmares of getting up at 02:30 AM to fill the buckets. Chilled water available round the clock.  Aaah, the luxury of having your own source of water and the chilled out baths!! Damn electricity, enjoy nature’s bounty.

A blissful sleep without even a fan at night! Hallucinating?? No, reality!!! The open terrace is the answer. No polluting smog, no prying eyes, no lurking voyeurs – again natural, non-polluting, free of cost and available only in rural India. The utterly polluted urban air obfuscates the stars. Here, the sky is splattered with them. You have never seen so many of them. Watch the stars, bask in the milky moonlight, hum a song and gently go off to sleep. By early morning you require a thick sheet to wrap yourself in!!! Who wants to sleep closeted in a small room when such pristine luxuries are available? Enjoy!!

            Brew a pot of tea; sip it slowly in the privacy of your open courtyard. Enjoy the cool breeze. Forget tweets; listen to the twitter of birds. Forget the newspapers with sickening stories; listen to the mooing of the cows. Tea becomes doubly refreshing. No fans needed, no electricity required!!! Sheer bliss. Enjoy!!!

Invest in a few gadgets to cope. Inverters are handy. And pollution neutral too. CFL bulbs and low wattage fans help. But for how long? The generator then comes in handy. A sturdy beast that churns out a healthy 7.5 KV it charges the inverter batteries apart from providing electricity. Pollution be damned now. But diesel costs a packet. Fall back on Indian ingenuity. Kerosene is a great substitute!!  Where to get kerosene from? Trust the robust economic sense of rural Indians. Cost reduced by half, therefore, double the running time!! The worst periods successfully negotiated. You cope!!

The great pastime of predicting a normal monsoon has begun. IMD has dutifully predicted a normal monsoon. Forget that a normal monsoon was predicted last year too, when we had the worst drought in 37 years. They are there to create hope and to keep the sensex gyrating. All and sundry join this great game – the show will go on for a few months to packed houses!! Create hope, don’t let despondency set in. Hope for the best and forget the rest!!! You start hoping too, lest they call you hopeless. Hope for a normal monsoon. Hope for the moisture laden easterly winds. Hope for rains in May. Hope for power supply to be resumed. Hope for uninterrupted power supply. Keep hoping – it is free of cost.

Enjoy, cope and hope – life is a breeze.

The Car - Nama (कार - नामा)

Before shifting to our village (Muraura) from Jamshedpur a conscious decision to remain बेकार (bekaar) had been taken by Rituraj. Heretofore, we had always remained साकार (saakaar) and Rituraj loves driving. So all of us thought that he is not likely to remain बेकार for long. However, he was to prove us all wrong and seemed quite happy and content with his  बेकार status. And so we remained बेकार at Muraura for one year.

One of the great charms of staying at Muraura is that you need not venture out of your house, unless you really wish to. Biharsharif is a small मुफस्सिल town and is certainly not the greatest place to go shopping. Forget Malls and Multiplexes; the crowded town lacks even a decent old fashioned cinema hall. However, if you are either brave or desperate enough to see a movie you will encounter a seedy looking, dilapidated and crumbling hall where the combined smell of sweat, urine, खैनी (chewing tobacco), बीड़ी smoke  (yes the very same Beedi which Bipasha Basu exhorted all and sundry to light - बीड़ी जलईले in ओंकार) shall assail your senses the moment you enter the portal. If you are brave enough to still carry on, be ready to donate blood to खटमल (bug) and मच्छर (mosquito). Surely a very steep price to pay for a movie titled something like "देवर बड़ा सतावेला" or  "मदहोश जवानी"!!!  "What about eating out", some of you may ask. Aaah ... well ... hmmm ... grrr, you eat out at your own peril in Biharsharif - not only will your taste buds revolt, probably so will your stomach the next day!! So basically you do not or rather cannot go to the town for either shopping, entertainment or eating. What about the essential household supplies then? That is where the charm of Muraura comes into play. You can ask one of your relatives (and the whole village is related to you anyway) who is going to the town to get whatever you want and he will be very happy to oblige. And we could always hire a car or, better still, borrow from one of the relatives.

            Therefore, staying बेकार at Muraura did not pose any great problems as far as logistics were concerned. And Rituraj was most happy pillion riding on someone else's motor cycle if indeed he had to go to the town once in a blue moon. Poor guy, he was forced to pillion ride because he cannot ride a bicycle leave along a motor cycle!!! But all said and done, he had stumped everyone else by remaining बेकार for a year. 

However, once incident in October, 2009 was going to create हाहाकार. We were driving to Ranchi in an Alto belonging to one of Rituraj's nephews and had an accident. Luckily we remained unhurt but the car was damaged. We did get the car repaired at Ranchi, thankfully it was insured as well, but surely we felt bad for being the reason behind the damage to someone else's car. This set the ball rolling and Jenny started campaigning for the car and kept chanting आकार, आकार, आकार like a mantra. Rituraj was, however, not convinced and every entreaty, every logic extended by Jenny was met by a firm नकार from him. This तू तू ... मैं मैं and the tussle between आकार and नकार carried on till December when Ketaki landed at Muraura on one of her rare stress busting breaks. It was nothing less than a चमत्कार when with youthful exuberance and irrefutable logic she stumped Rituraj.

She was with her mother in this tussle and was campaigning for the car, and when Rituraj once again did इन्कार, she latched on to it and said, "Papa, you have said "in-kaar" and so surely you mean that the car is (going to come) in!!" Ladies and gentlemen, such is the power of the youth brigade of India. You cross swords with them at your own peril.

Always a man of logic, Rituraj could not refute this logic and meekly let go of his अहंकार (ego), gave a very silent हुंकार (war cry), nodded his head in assent and said तुम लोगों के सपने होंगे साकार (your dreams will come true). Their faces flushed with victory, they replied in unison, हमें है स्वीकार, and did a short victory dance singing जयकार हो (with apologies to A R Rahman). We were now going to change our status from बेकार to साकार. Jenny, put one condition though. She was not going to allow any कारोबार (car-o-bar). It was decided, reduced to writing on a Rs. 10 non judicial stamp paper, signed by two witnesses and notarized that the car and the bar shall remain separate at all times to come. "Car is car and bar is bar ... And never the twain shall meet". 

It did not take long for us to decide on the brand. We always wanted a MUV / SUV and gradually zeroed on the Tavera. A loan was quickly arranged, and on 18th January, 2010 we drove to Patna in a hired Scorpio and drove back in the shining Ivory Gold Tavera. We were no longer बेकार. 

            The plans and discussions to go on really long drives across the country now started in right earnest. 

The Dramatis Personae

Rituraj (53) - IPS Officer of 1983 batch who decided enough was enough and sought voluntary retirement w.e.f. Apr. 2005. Tried his hand in the private sector and worked for Tata Steel as Chief, Corporate Relations. After spending almost four years in Jamshedpur got fed up and resigned. He is now settled in his village called Muraura near Biharsharif in Nalanda District of Bihar. Now has ambitious plans to travel across the country in his Tavera. He is the official driver and narrator of the blog. When not travelling, informally teaches children in the village and is most happy with his footloose status.

Jennifer Rituraj (51) - Met Rituraj while studying at JNU, fell in love and married. A tamil born and brought up in Delhi, is now a pucca Bihari. An excellent cook and homemaker; has managed and is still efficiently managing her family and is most happy when cooking or watching TV. Has always been more at ease in the village than even Rituraj and even enjoys occasional sessions of gossiping with her illiterate sisters-in-law etc. She is the official navigator during the travels and the editor-in-chief of the blog. When not travelling churns out mouthwatering dishes with regular consistency, avidly watches TV and manages the household as well as Rituraj with a soft but firm hand. She also informally teaches children when in the village.

Ketaki Rituraj (25) - Only child of Rituraj & Jennifer. Is working with Mudra Communications and is based at Mumbai. Has been the chief motivator behind Rituraj's decision to quit govt service. Loves her village and is very happy spending whatever time she can snatch out at the village. Her constant refrain these days , "I cannot handle all the stress." Poor young lady, so stressed is she that even sound slumber often creates stress!!! She is the officially designated technical advisor and director of the blog.


Cherverolet Tavera - The strong and silent contributor to the blog without whose active support the blog would have remained a dream!!