The Home coming..
The train stops for a 1 minute halt on level with a mass of concrete pavement that passes for platform. There is a little rush, some porters running with signals and vendors vying with each other to cater to the uninterested passengers. With my small bag and a plastic bottle,I step down from the train. Before me there is that typical rhombus-shaped white tin board mounted on an electricity pole...on a red strip in middle it announces: "Hardoi".
So finally I am back into my journey of re-discovery. Rediscovering my home town after a stint at glitzy destinations..Bangalore-Hyderabad...I saunter out, the ticket collector at the gate is standing sheepishly. He just passes dour glance on passengers,never once daring to perform his duty. Once in a while people will condescend and show him the tickets..I did..this seemed to make him more surprised than happy.
Outside station its the usual scene, the rickshaw is the only mode of transport available and it is scarce today. Its the time of harvest,so all are busy in villages,I am told. With this piece of information under my belt,I decide to walk the distance till I get some mode of conveyance.
Its 8:00 PM and shopkeepers are preparing to pull down the shutters, the town now has PCOs at every kilometer, 2 years ago telephone was a luxury and PCO a rare "dukan" where u got to talk to people in far off places like Lucknow..110Km far..now that's some distance!
The road is lighted by weak street lights which make a small pale yellow circle on it, most of the road is dark anyway. Some of these patches are now populated by urchins who have gathered for a quick game of cards before ending the day with desi liquor. Years ago the local MP participated in a gala horsetrading and was awarded the post of State Power Minister..those were the days..people recall..we used to get power 24hr a day..never even a blip..what a grand luxury!These street lights are memoirs of the gone good days. Government soon tumbled as its the case always and our MP was relegated to an insignificant position..but we still have power..this is a big deal..so no regrets.
I walk through the street carrying the landmarks of Hardoi. There is of course no traffic at this hour. As such you can always afford to walk in the middle of the road as rules are quite lax. There is, for instance,no road divider and no traffic light anywhere. A traffic police is obviously out of question. No doubt its a drivers nightmare and a jaywalker's paradise! Afterall roads should give a proper right of way to all..ranging from well controlled Mercedes to the whimiscal bullock cart!
As I advance I pass through the SBI branch, station road. Near it we have the the only ATM of this district. Locals call it "Note ka dabba", they watch in consternation nearing to a reverential awe,as the machine spews out currency. I remember the first time I did transaction on this machine. The grocery owner next to it insisted on me first offering a part of sum to God before entertaining me for a purchase. Next I come across this time worn bust of Mahatma Gandhi, placed in a trianguar garden. Poor Gandhiji..for ages he has his gaze fixed in a straight line that runs between his eyes and a film poster that belongs to Anand theater, famous for porn movies,now running : "Papi paet ka sawal hai"...I move on,ignoring the rush of enthusiastic movie goers leering at the overly explicit poster. Gandhiji looks on,as he has been doing since I was a child.
Further ahead, I pass through "Zila Chikitsalaya" or district hospital, an island surrounded by a pool of slime with a green crust over it. People unfortunate enough to fall into it and thereby gauge its depth say that its pretty deep. Outside there is a huge hoarding shouting "Do ke baad phul staap" and its walls, shedding plaster, are adorned with ads like "Bulbul chaap bidi..hamesha peejiye" followed by :"Hakeem Usmani, khandani dactar".."shartiya ladka hi hoga"...it goes on till the ads merge with its dilapidated gate, which incidenly is always open. Outside this building are always standing 2 buses,with the a rather portentous writing,"Laash ke vaste",no wonder people have no confidence in the doctors working in the hospital! The condition of these vehicles makes them a perfect match for their purpose and I have always had a queer felling that they are themselves pretty close to the destination of their cadaverous passengers.
As I keep moving on the potholed road, i see a rickshaw coming from opposite side..i call him but he zooms past me,paddling as fast as he can. I look back with amazement. The reason for his lithe motion becomes clear as I see him turn into a shop titled "Desi Sharab ka Theka". I conclude that I am doomed to walk the distance today. Now I have entered into the main shopping area. Traders have already closed for the day and dogs are putting a brave fight on the streets. I yield the main road to its legitimate night owners and walk on the side walk,which is not much different from road.
I see the only net cafe of Hardoi: "The Cyber Zone". With two PCs and a rate of 40Rs per hour this is a famous haunt of modern Hardoi-ites. I remember when I once wanted to collect material for a project and inquired if the net was working. My conversation went as follows:
(Note : CZ => Cyber Zone)
Myself : Net kam ker raha hai kya?
CZ : Kya karna hai aapko?
Myself : Net chaiye tha 1 hr ke lye..
CZ : Result check karna hai?
Myself : Nahin
CZ : Mail karna hai?
Myself : Nahin...
CZ (flustered): Phir kya kam hai?
Myself : Browse karna tha....
CZ (utterly confused): woh kaam yahan nahin hota...
I somehow coaxed him by saying that I needed net for chatting and did my work.
For result checking the rates go as:
"Pass ho jane per 10 rupiya aur fail ho jane per 5 rupiya".
Of course there is no guarantee of data saving as there is no backup and power can go any time. Thus you definitely cant complain the guy of cheating!!
I have crossed most of the bazaar and am close to my home. The streets have narrowed down and I can see a lot of familiar faces. Urchins criss cross the street and the familiar hand pump is surrounded by people for all sorts of work: drinking, bathing, washing....
Suddenly here comes this half naked (as usual)neighborhood guy named Kallu..full 12 years younger to me..and yells out: "Bintoo aiye gaye!!!"...None of them knows who is Suharsh. The news ripples through the word of mouth of scantily clad children,it passes through roofs, via a long ghoonghat clad 75 year old and shying BabuRamDulahin, past the Peepal and Neem trees, past the cows and the temple..and finally the carrier barges into my home to leak it to my mother.Soon I am a celebrity in my locality. As I cross the mowing cow and jingling temple bells, goaded by the cheerful yell of "Bintoo aiye gaye..bintoo aiye gaye" in which all children of street now join as a new game, I am inside the home..urchins still stand outside in the circle, Kallu still boasting how he was first to recognize me!!
So this is home...no doubt its no where compared to Bnagalore and Hyderabad. Afterall the yearly fair of this town (called "Numaish") is a matter of daily routine out there. There we talk through e-mails and here people are yet to learn how to send snail mails. But here I find a genuine concern and a real empathy..something that is woefully absent in the glass and marble jungle of my new hitch abode..
So finally I am back into my journey of re-discovery. Rediscovering my home town after a stint at glitzy destinations..Bangalore-Hyderabad...I saunter out, the ticket collector at the gate is standing sheepishly. He just passes dour glance on passengers,never once daring to perform his duty. Once in a while people will condescend and show him the tickets..I did..this seemed to make him more surprised than happy.
Outside station its the usual scene, the rickshaw is the only mode of transport available and it is scarce today. Its the time of harvest,so all are busy in villages,I am told. With this piece of information under my belt,I decide to walk the distance till I get some mode of conveyance.
Its 8:00 PM and shopkeepers are preparing to pull down the shutters, the town now has PCOs at every kilometer, 2 years ago telephone was a luxury and PCO a rare "dukan" where u got to talk to people in far off places like Lucknow..110Km far..now that's some distance!
The road is lighted by weak street lights which make a small pale yellow circle on it, most of the road is dark anyway. Some of these patches are now populated by urchins who have gathered for a quick game of cards before ending the day with desi liquor. Years ago the local MP participated in a gala horsetrading and was awarded the post of State Power Minister..those were the days..people recall..we used to get power 24hr a day..never even a blip..what a grand luxury!These street lights are memoirs of the gone good days. Government soon tumbled as its the case always and our MP was relegated to an insignificant position..but we still have power..this is a big deal..so no regrets.
I walk through the street carrying the landmarks of Hardoi. There is of course no traffic at this hour. As such you can always afford to walk in the middle of the road as rules are quite lax. There is, for instance,no road divider and no traffic light anywhere. A traffic police is obviously out of question. No doubt its a drivers nightmare and a jaywalker's paradise! Afterall roads should give a proper right of way to all..ranging from well controlled Mercedes to the whimiscal bullock cart!
As I advance I pass through the SBI branch, station road. Near it we have the the only ATM of this district. Locals call it "Note ka dabba", they watch in consternation nearing to a reverential awe,as the machine spews out currency. I remember the first time I did transaction on this machine. The grocery owner next to it insisted on me first offering a part of sum to God before entertaining me for a purchase. Next I come across this time worn bust of Mahatma Gandhi, placed in a trianguar garden. Poor Gandhiji..for ages he has his gaze fixed in a straight line that runs between his eyes and a film poster that belongs to Anand theater, famous for porn movies,now running : "Papi paet ka sawal hai"...I move on,ignoring the rush of enthusiastic movie goers leering at the overly explicit poster. Gandhiji looks on,as he has been doing since I was a child.
Further ahead, I pass through "Zila Chikitsalaya" or district hospital, an island surrounded by a pool of slime with a green crust over it. People unfortunate enough to fall into it and thereby gauge its depth say that its pretty deep. Outside there is a huge hoarding shouting "Do ke baad phul staap" and its walls, shedding plaster, are adorned with ads like "Bulbul chaap bidi..hamesha peejiye" followed by :"Hakeem Usmani, khandani dactar".."shartiya ladka hi hoga"...it goes on till the ads merge with its dilapidated gate, which incidenly is always open. Outside this building are always standing 2 buses,with the a rather portentous writing,"Laash ke vaste",no wonder people have no confidence in the doctors working in the hospital! The condition of these vehicles makes them a perfect match for their purpose and I have always had a queer felling that they are themselves pretty close to the destination of their cadaverous passengers.
As I keep moving on the potholed road, i see a rickshaw coming from opposite side..i call him but he zooms past me,paddling as fast as he can. I look back with amazement. The reason for his lithe motion becomes clear as I see him turn into a shop titled "Desi Sharab ka Theka". I conclude that I am doomed to walk the distance today. Now I have entered into the main shopping area. Traders have already closed for the day and dogs are putting a brave fight on the streets. I yield the main road to its legitimate night owners and walk on the side walk,which is not much different from road.
I see the only net cafe of Hardoi: "The Cyber Zone". With two PCs and a rate of 40Rs per hour this is a famous haunt of modern Hardoi-ites. I remember when I once wanted to collect material for a project and inquired if the net was working. My conversation went as follows:
(Note : CZ => Cyber Zone)
Myself : Net kam ker raha hai kya?
CZ : Kya karna hai aapko?
Myself : Net chaiye tha 1 hr ke lye..
CZ : Result check karna hai?
Myself : Nahin
CZ : Mail karna hai?
Myself : Nahin...
CZ (flustered): Phir kya kam hai?
Myself : Browse karna tha....
CZ (utterly confused): woh kaam yahan nahin hota...
I somehow coaxed him by saying that I needed net for chatting and did my work.
For result checking the rates go as:
"Pass ho jane per 10 rupiya aur fail ho jane per 5 rupiya".
Of course there is no guarantee of data saving as there is no backup and power can go any time. Thus you definitely cant complain the guy of cheating!!
I have crossed most of the bazaar and am close to my home. The streets have narrowed down and I can see a lot of familiar faces. Urchins criss cross the street and the familiar hand pump is surrounded by people for all sorts of work: drinking, bathing, washing....
Suddenly here comes this half naked (as usual)neighborhood guy named Kallu..full 12 years younger to me..and yells out: "Bintoo aiye gaye!!!"...None of them knows who is Suharsh. The news ripples through the word of mouth of scantily clad children,it passes through roofs, via a long ghoonghat clad 75 year old and shying BabuRamDulahin, past the Peepal and Neem trees, past the cows and the temple..and finally the carrier barges into my home to leak it to my mother.Soon I am a celebrity in my locality. As I cross the mowing cow and jingling temple bells, goaded by the cheerful yell of "Bintoo aiye gaye..bintoo aiye gaye" in which all children of street now join as a new game, I am inside the home..urchins still stand outside in the circle, Kallu still boasting how he was first to recognize me!!
So this is home...no doubt its no where compared to Bnagalore and Hyderabad. Afterall the yearly fair of this town (called "Numaish") is a matter of daily routine out there. There we talk through e-mails and here people are yet to learn how to send snail mails. But here I find a genuine concern and a real empathy..something that is woefully absent in the glass and marble jungle of my new hitch abode..
posted by Techie Author at 5:22 PM
2 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
hi papae,
good that u have given so much info about ur home town (???) hardoi district (???) to all... though i was aware of most of it due to some very obvious reasons, i would like u to share the name(s) of those very few trains which (according to u) halt for 1 min (!!!) at that station ! (God forgive me for calling it a station !!).. wanna talk abt roza-balamau passenger ?? i guess not. :)
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