Jitendra Rathore - Tea, Travel & Thrill: Six Short Stories

It was the most pleasant season for visiting Uttarakhand. The rainswere almost over; it wasnt hot and it wasnt cold. There were not manytourists as school vacations had gotten over. I had just crossed Bageshwar, abig town and was driving towards Choukhori, a small village in Kumaon regionthat offered beautiful locales and surroundings.

My wife, Kiran, was asleep on the next seat. Sleeping in theco-passenger seat is contagious. It could have put me to sleep but thankfullythe twists and turns in the road kept me busy and alert. Our two-year-old son,Dhruv, who was comfortably seated in her lap, looked outside the window, withcuriosity. He loved the wind gushing over his face and smiled at me off and onuttering something that I could hardly decipher.

Driving in the hills always brought back the sweet memoriesof my early years of life well-spent in Nahan, a blessed town situated inHimachal Pradesh, a beautiful hill state in North India.

My ageing hatchback was effortlessly climbing uphill, givingme this confidence that it is reliable, even if second-hand and a bit dated. Iwas looking at the fuel needle off and on which seemed to sag with everypassing mile. This was a growing concern as I had missed a couple of petrolpumps thinking I would top up the tank at the next one but hadnt come across anyfor a long time. Moreover, driving in the hills sometimes gives you thatmomentum that you do not want to break by stopping or pressing brakes,specially, on deserted stretches.

A milestone revealed that we were only two kilometers fromChoukhori when I woke up Kiran. Almost fifteen minutes later, we checked into asmall tourist rest house, where there were rooms, cottages and a tall machaan to look atthe scenic spans all around.

While we were unpacking, a service boy named Sunil came withbutter toast and hot coffee. He seemed to be in early twenties and was veryfond of talking. Sunil told us that the hill station is situated in the westernHimalayan range and to its north is Tibet and in the south is Terai.

He also told us about the spectacular view we can have ofthe surrounding snow-covered peaks of Nanda Devi, Nanda Kot and Panchchuli. Andthen, after checking our room for basic conveniences, he asked us if we haveheard of this place called Pataal Bhuvaneshvar.

I told him that I had heard about this place years ago whenmy father saw a program on television and also recently by Mr. Ravindra Negi,an employee of Tourism Department of Uttarakhand who happened to be a goodfriend also.

Sunil insisted that we visit the place the same day; eventhough it was around 12:30 pm then. Kiran suggested that we cover PataalBhuvaneshvar and then spend the next day walking around and sight-seeingChoukhori.

We started for Pataal Bhuvaneshvar around 1 pm. I found apetrol pump on our way at a place called Berinag but was very casually conveyedby two attendants that the pump is not working and that I should enquire aftertwo days. I always found this no hurries and no worries casual attitude ofpeople of the hills quite amusing.

After stopping by couple of times and driving for almost anhour, we reached a place where the road bifurcated; one going straight andother descending into a curve. There was a small tea shop made from wood andrusted iron sheets by the corner where village men chatted away and puffed biri, probablydiscussing weather, crop or may be some local festival due in near future. Someof the folks had full-sized black umbrellas hung from their collars.

Kiran was already having nausea and she asked me to stop bythe shop. Dhruv seemed to enjoy the drive and the weather as he was beaming. Igot a few orange candies for Kiran and a cup of adrak chai for myself from theshop (the best thing is Parle biscuits, biris and orange candies are availablein the remotest of places). The shop owner was jovial. On handing over ahundred-rupee bill to him, he asked me to collect the change on my way back.