NH 4 to Hampi

Rohit was fast asleep as I stared at the ceiling. Only a few minutes ago had I come to know that Rohit knew as much about Hampi as I did, which was: nothing. This had made me extremely uncomfortable for it had been 5 years since I had ventured out for a decent vacation. This had to click, I told myself. Before I could imagine the two of us were sitting in the sumo and making our way through the maddening roads of Bangalore. I wondered about cities like Bangalore, huge maddening cities, cities with miles and miles of traffic jams, chaotic cities, dirty cities, cities where if you wanted a spot of solitude you’d probably have to drive down 100s of miles. I wondered what made majority of mankind stay in such cities and the remaining live with aspirations to be a part of them one day. I love cities too. They are fantastic places. They are vibrant, full of life, home to innovations and some of the brightest minds, but honestly, I have never felt like a city person. I have had the overwhelming urge to get done with this bit of my life and move on. Probably some day I will.

Anyway, the Sumo meandered its way through the megapolis to pick the remaining party for the trip. Once that was done we hit the roads. Getting on the road brought along with it a strange sense of satisfaction. It gave me a sense of purpose. It told me that I was headed somewhere, quite contrary to the feeling which I experience on a regular basis, which is: I am going nowhere. We did hit the roads, but irony is the sweetest weapon of the Gods. Vajra, our driver, who had done a full day shift, was sent by his rather cruel, stupid and insensitive employer to do the graveyard shift as well. Vajra, exhausted by driving the entire day now simply couldn’t manage to focus on the roads and kept nodding off. For the first few minutes when Vajra related this to me I felt a deep sense of compassion and affection for him. I despised his employer for treating him so cruelly and blatantly exploiting him and his situation. Nonetheless, in the course of the trip I would come to know that Vajra was not as innocent and gullible as he appeared. My overtures of gratitude and kindness to him made me feel stupid and cheated.

Taking notice of Vajra’s condition I thought it would be in the best interests of everyone to engage him in a dialogue. The dialogue had to be about him, for Vajra did not come across to me as a person who had a keen disposition towards current affairs and stimulating conversation. He seemed a man very set in his views and would not tolerate any opposition to them. Probably years and years of traveling the roads of India had given him experiences which made him the man he was today.

So I asked him about his family, his education, his upbringing, his career and his life so far in general. People love to recount tales of their experiences, the pearls of wisdom they have gathered in their journey so far and the fundamental philosophies that they have formed over the years. Vajra was no exception, even in the state of utter sleep deprivation he spoke enthusiastically of what he’d learnt on the roads. I listened keenly and imagined his life as young boy and wondered about the sheer disparity that existed. Here I was, nearly the same age, traveling and enjoying myself, and there was Vajra, fighting his sleep and keeping awake coz he could not afford to displease his employer. And all this for a meagre 5000 Rs a month. Unfair, utterly and completely unfair.

As we sped down NH 4 the moon emerged and disappeared into the clouds. We had left the city far behind and with it the chaos, the rat race and unfair comparisons in human life. Every once in a while we stopped for a cup of chai, reinvigorated we moved ahead. Hampi seemed like the elusive truth, always tricking us into believing that we had reached it, but the moment that we thought that we were there it seemed far away.

There is a moment, a moment between darkness and light. A moment when darkness bows down, acknowledging that its tenure is over, it is now the turn of light. Then light cracks through the vast, unfathomable canvass of the sky, reaching out to the farthest points. It is as though it swims into the sky to a loud cheer from the human spectacle. The darkness recedes into unknown corners of the universe, it shall come back again only to balance the way of human life.

Light danced on the swaying fields and mountain tops. The birds had come alive, they chirped and sang and flew in abandon across the skies, like little children playing on the field. A solitary figure walked down the highway, he seemed old, about 70, looking at him I wondered he must’ve walked down this road all his life. What could he be thinking now? Was he thinking that was his life worth living? Was he thinking about the mistakes that he’d made? And what if he’d not made them, how would life have been then. But before I knew we’d left him far behind. I would never, ever see this man again. I did not know him, but for those few seconds I felt a very strong sense of attachment to him.

9 hours had passed now and the day seemed to grow in its beauty as we progressed. We passed the river, I believe it was the Krishna, it was huge. It seemed to have originated from the Horizon, calm and unending it seemed to me. The whole setting was ethereal.

Finally we reached Hospet. Everybody was awake now and eagerly looking forward to Hampi. The landscape had changed tremendously since Bangalore. Huge concrete towers were replaced by unending fields and cars by make shift type of two wheelers. But above all there was a tranquility which I can’t describe. We were in Hampi……finally.

Good bye

I passed out of college in 2006 and since then had not really had a chance to visit it again. But the University of Pune is not a little inconspicuous structure tucked away in obscurity, rather it is a sprawling campus of some huge no of acres located close to the heart of the city. It's an exceptionally beautiful place, an oasis in the chaos of this city trying to grow out of its pants.

Now the Univ for me is somewhat like the ring in Lord of the Rings. Why? Ok, whenever I am near the University, I have this overwhelming urge to visit it. To which you might wonder, if you have ever been there, that it is a really beautiful place, a place to soothen frayed nerves and get some perspective in life, (and trust me I need perspective, a whole lot of it) why would I not want to visit it. Am I some kind of masochistic personality who wants to deprive himself of some peace and tranquility? No, I am not. I consciously try to avoid it because it haunts me in a way. Not exactly in the eerie, ghostly way, but in a different way which you will understand as you engross yourself a little more in this article (I suffer from this congenital disorder of presuming that whatever I write is extremely engrossing and stimulating).

However, the other day while passing it, and honestly at this point of time I have no clue what I was doing there, I could not resist the urge and rode straight into it. If you take a look at it, I mean the Univ, it looks more like an abandoned post of the Raj era with its dense foliage and stone buildings, so riding into it gives you that feeling of entering some place which the guys warming their hands on the last bend advised you not to enter. Anyway, I rode straight into it and then it happened. I knew it would. I knew I could not resist it. But then again I have not been that obedient kind of a person. Within seconds I was inundated with memories. You might wonder what's wrong with getting inundated with memories, all of us do go through that at some point or the other. But what you do not know is that I am not very well versed with the word moderate. I have never learnt to do anything in moderation: I am an extremist, one of the purest and most unadulterated kind of this breed of people. More on extremists later, for now I will tell you what happened next.

So, now that like a junkie I had given way to the urge, I decided I would go all the way and completely wallow in the nostalgia (extremism you see!).

Every nook and corner of the univ had a memory. Here's where I had met him for the first time, there's where I had stolen a look from her and again there's where I was sitting in a state of complete abandonment. And so it continued like this, till I could not take it anymore. I had to park the bike in one corner and sit down. So, I did that. Turning of the ignition suddenly made me realise the stillness of the place. And then came this surge of blood. I walked towards a common meeting spot. It was silent. Dead silent. I stood there all by myself. Wasn't it only a few months ago that there was the lively chatter of us here, didn't this place ring with our ambitions, our ideas on how seriously things were wrong in the world, on how and where mankind had made fundamental errors and how greed and inhumanity would ultimately sound the clarion of human destruction. This was the place where millions of cups of tea and zillions of cigarettes had been consumed and everything having a remote possibility of an argument was argued upon. And now this place was silent, dead silent. It seemed as if our voices had trailed off into eternity; never to turn back. And this is when it struck me, it struck me that all this reminded me of the innate transitory nature of things. That all things that begin shall come to an end and this is what I found most difficult to accept. For a few seconds I suppressed the moans of helplessness that arose in my heart, I squashed my irrationality and parried all my sentiments: but to no avail.

In a larger sense leaving the Univ had meant leaving an idealistic world. Leaving a world of ethics, a world of honest pursuits and being thrown into a world that was in a shockingly stark contrast to all this. A world which I would understand,but not accept. I stood a few minutes more, but then I turned around, jumped on my bike and rode off. For the next few seconds, till I emerged from the clasps of nostalgia, all went blank. And then suddenly the street lights and the confusion embraced me once again. I rode off.