|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Somehow or the other, every time we ventured to Chail, we were never able to include Narkanda in our itinerary. Hence, it happened that we gazed upon the beautiful greens of the Naldehra Golf course so many times; visited the highest cricketing pitch in the world in Chail again and again, but never got to Narkanda. This time on our visit to Chail, we were detrmined to visit Narkanda. Came the much-awaited day, and we waited with bated breath for the car to arrive with our fussy Rajput driver. We waited, and waited.. and three hours into the morning, having already wasted three precious early-morning-hours and now well into mid-morning, we realised that Neel K, the reluctant driver, might have decided to play truant. Once again, Narkanda had almost merged into its earlier fond-dream-status, when the door opened and a deadpan Neel K, no apology breaking the sullenness of his face, peeped in to remark, "Once I take you all to Narkanda, I suppose you will also want to go to Hatu Temple. I cannot take you there. The road to Hatu peak is not motorable." He always seemed to be doing us a favour, and we wer to be thankful for services. Anyway, we were well on our way to Narkanda. The mountainscapes fell and rose to so much green that it seemed incredible that parts of the same Himachal greens had been so brutally pulled out .. roots, topsoil and so much more. Neel K. gave us an "I-told-you-so" look and majestically threw the ignition key on to the dashboard where it sat obediently, while the driver sat back with an additional shrug. We started out like valiant warriors, my sister, cousin, my nephew and I. My uncle, who kept in poor health decided to stay behind and suffer his ill-tempered companion. Our brave group of four decided to tackle the long, steep climb. However, after half an hour, the temple was still 7 km away and visible only as a speck on the mountain peak. The child in the group complained of fatigue and an inability to proceed further. We were persuaded to turn back, rather crestfallen to have to do so without reaching our destination. With long faces and heavy hearts and feeling much like failed climbers, nay, "defeated warriors" - we were trudging back towards the Qualis, when suddenly a miraculous sight interrupted our journey. The incredible sight that blocked the entire mountainscape comprised a familiar Qualis seemingly half flying on the half-eroded road, its right wheels spinning circles as they cut empty air and headed towards us. Even more miraculous than this was the beam of a smile that the Qualis driver wore on his face. It spoke of an unexpectedly discovered treasure. They stopped in front of us and we trooped in, in a wondering daze. My uncle, who is known for his cool-as-cucumber demeanor, actually seemed amused to the point of excitement, as he related the strange tale of how he was dozing off while Neel was already fast asleep. He thought he was dreaming as strange hands suddenly shook him out of his slumber. He sleepily opened his eyes to see the unlikely sight of Neel K’s countenance, red with concealed excitement, as he waved his arms frantically about, his words tumbling one over the other, " We have got to go! We have got to go! Hatu Mata came in my dream. She was calling me. We have got to go!" Uncle, who is more of a worrier than a believer, got up immediately, hoping that the party negotiating the mountains was all right. Neel K. was like a man-possessed and did not seem to be seeing the half and quarter-crumbled roads that he was flying over. Before starting on the journey on such a treacherous unmade path, he asked us once, "Do you trust God?" We nodded silently and Uncle added he trusted Neel’s confidence and expertise. There were many stifled screams and most of the passengers kept their eyes shut. But it does hold a strange fascination to stare such close encounters with death right in the face. And falling landscapes seen from over wheels spinning in empty air, never looked more dangerously beautiful! Strangely enough, the downhill drive (supposed to have been much tougher) passed as if in a dream. Each person, including the driver, seemed to be inside the reality of their own respective personal dream, and God himself seemed to carry us in his great palm to let us down gently when we had crossed the troubled road..
|
|||
|
|
|||
