He stood at the peak of the hillock, watching the setting sun through the misty veil of fog. With a sigh, he dropped his shoulders giving in to the fate that he had come to terms with. As he took in a whiff of the pure mountain air, he realized that he was in love. Why else was he unable to bid adieu?
He reminisced about his journey so far. He had tagged along with his friend Anand, to break away from the monotony after his post-graduation. They boarded the train from Dehradun to NJP and then took a Jonga to Kurseoung town in the Darjeeling District. With their limited resources, they booked themselves in a reasonable hotel. The very first day in the town, they visited Eagle’s Craig. They were taken aback by the breathtaking panoramic view of the town. This lit up their fire to explore deeper, this quaint little town. They would trek down the hills looking for deer and various other animals that inhabited the forests. Each morning brought with it a promise of a new exciting day and each evening, the chirping of the birds as they returned home, signalled them that it was time to head back and warm themselves.
Dreams have an elusive quality about them. And this one too seemed to have made an abrupt change of scene. The jeep drove on the undulating hills, wending into blind curves and tight turns as Surendra’s unaccustomed eyes travelled to the valley, admiring the beautiful swath of green tea bushes- picturesque by any standards. The jeep slowed down for them to take in the mesmerising view and then passed the long row of pines. The fair native women pluckers skilfully plucked on the buds of tea with colourful bandanas on their heads and cane plucking baskets on their backs, in almost mechanical motion, yet graceful. Some of them stared at him unabashedly, some even waved while others giggled, all the while fingers continuously moving to and fro between the basket and tea bushes. The narrow road went up on an incline and behind the grey-white clouds, they could see the silver roof of Anand Rawat’s chhoti kothi of Ambootia. The sun slowly faded away from the horizon mildly visible between the clouds and the mist.
They savoured their supper and Anand filled in the details of his work profile as a field assistant. He briefed him about the nitty-gritty of the planters’ life which could otherwise overwhelm anyone unfamiliar with it. He went on to add that the Chairman even though a tough taskmaster at times, is a kind-hearted man. “It was his personal jeep that we travelled in after all!”
The next morning Anand left for his kaamjari. Surendra sat in the veranda enjoying the hues of the fluorescent green tea bushes of Phugri on a hilltop blending with the bright blue horizon. His friend would take him along sometimes to the field and it was turning out to be a perfect vacation for him. In spite of being a Masters in mathematics, he had an inclination towards nature. His naturalistic intelligence made him value the essence of his surroundings. On most days though, Anand would get back after dusk after having chai and pakoras with his colleagues and the chairman, discussing work. So for Surendra the euphoria of escaping the humidity of his hometown was giving way to loneliness at times. He yearned for the company of friends and craved for his old life with dozens of friends within five minutes of walk.
But for the roller coaster called life which can astound anyone without any warning; Anand surprised him one Sunday. Both of them took a toy train ride. As the train took a plunge, on their left stretched a vast expanse of rich undulating tea area dotted with few mountain goats. To his right, they could see the gorge, obscured by the rise in the land, a waterfall cascading over the rocks. The wind on the face was refreshing and the drizzle was cleansing and in Surendra’s own words- “I was in awe, humbled by the beauty of God’s creation!” There is joy in the smallest of things in life which filled him to the brim. He decided to stay a little longer.
One evening Surendra was sipping tea in the jaalikamra as the Chowkidar entered to say that the “Chairman Saablai tapailai salaam pathaeko cha” (“The chairman has called him to the factory”). Excitedly he dressed up in his blazer with D.A.V. embroidered on the pockets and his formal trousers.
Surendra strode into the fermenting room which was misty, nearly opaque and wished Mr SP Bansal, who was taking his usual round to see to the manufacturing of tea and pointed towards the tea being rolled. He explained at length about the process and his passion for tea-making was evident. His explanation was interspersed with his genuine interest in knowing what future plans Surendra had in mind.
Innocently, he answered the questions with honesty that he wasn’t sure. Mr Bansal then went on, “Why don’t you come at 6 am tomorrow and familiarize yourself with the factory?” “6 AM?!” Surendra muttered under his breath. Mr Bansal paid no heed to him and added, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a good stipend.” Surendra was elated, yet a little anxious. Collecting his nerves, he replied, “Sir, I would like to think about it.” Mr Bansal immediately retorted, “As an Alumina of D.A.V. College I know that the boys from here can decide at the spur of the moment. See you tomorrow” and walked away.
Surendra stood outside the factory, replaying in his mind what had just happened. Had this tour been an interview all along? The smell of freshly processed Darjeeling tea lingered on as he slowly made his way out of the factory and up to the hill. He tried to make sense of his mixed emotions. As he reflected within him, he experienced the epiphany that his love had reciprocated and goodbye now was not an option.
A scene from Parineeta showing the Darjeeling Toy Train: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deTVgOf2cWs