Eight and a half

Eight and a Half people set off from Delhi for Amritsar to see the Golden Temple and the much hyped Wagah border over a weekend.

Now that sure doesn’t sound like a big deal until you realise that most of these people have never met before and the only common link they have apart from their mother tongue ‘Bangla’ is a gutsy woman living far away in Ludhiana who happens to be a common friend called Mampi.

Let me like a good Jane Austen novel start with giving some details of all these people.

Sumanto – the one we also at times call Ghumanto cause his love for procrastination is equalled by none (this is by his own admission). Old ex-colleague of Mampi when she lived and reigned…sorry worked in Delhi.

Sulagna – Sumanto’s better half – she has a job profile that keeps her involved at all hours of the day and even when she is on holiday. But then I suspect she makes an awesome amount of moolah which sort of makes up for it. ;)

Jhinuk – their 8 year old daughter, with an amazing IQ and questions that make you wonder if she is the child or are you. (BTW she is the half in the 8 and a half)

Mashima – Sumanto’s mother, white haired and well turned out. Could have been competition for Gayatri Devi if they moved about in the same circle. (Btw Mashima isn't her name thats what we bongs call older women, basically means Mom's sis)

Pinku – well that’s me, what can I say about myself….apart from that I was the designated co-ordinator of this trip. And of course the fact that this blog was what got me in touch with Mampi about a year ago.

Parry – my partner in crime in all things at times willing, at times not so much…but he doesn’t abandon which going by the wild plans and actions I am capable of is saying a lot

Mom – my mom, on the wrong side of fifty, filled with naughty ideas and officially only 48 (she refuses to budge till she becomes a grand mom)

Masi – my lost in her own world, filled with thoughts which seem so out of Romantic poetry (now this is not the romantic of love but the Romantic all English lit students learn about) masi (mother's sister). This is her first trip outside of NCR in twenty years.

Bhaskar – my adopted brother, who came to us when he was all of eighteen years old. Me and Mom are still trying to decide did we adopt him or did he adopt us?

So the 8.5 meet up at the New Delhi Station at 6:30 in the morning and proceed to board the Swarn Shatabdi after a bout of introductions.
Settled in the train, we find out the following:
The Swarn Shatabdi has nothing golden about it. Rather it’s in pretty bad shape.
The ceiling leaks.
The loos are dirty.
The staff brusque and not at all helpful
They actually have the capability to run out of vegetarian food trays and ask those who asked for those to make do with non-vegetarian ones instead

The six hour long journey ensures that shyness barriers are broken and the 8.5 merrily chat away, exchanging seats frequently inorder to do so.
Embarking at Amritsar the 8.5 find two cars and a head constable waiting to take them to their hotel courtesy Mahesh (the best part of Mampi).

Lunch and a silly experience where Pinku finds her purse torn in two (one end with her, the other hanging from the handle of a passing motocycle) later the group finally gets darshan of the ManMahesh brigade. The Brigade has driven down all the way from Ludhiana to meet the 8.5 and it consists of:

Mampi: am sure I don’t need to describe her

Mahesh: he is a sweetheart and has the most unpolice like eyes and heart you can ever imagine.

Rasan: young lady, daughter to Mampi and developing into a heart-stealer very fast.

Jai: nah nah…not of the Jai-Veeru fame. He is the son of Mahesh and has the smartest one liners in Punjabi you will ever come across. And he is just so angelic I wonder what the girls in his class have to say about him ( BTW he is the half in this brigade)

Auntyji: Mampi’s mom, the Dhindsa you will find commenting on her blog frequently and sometimes on mine too. I had requested for her to come along too and she had graciously accepted.

So after a cake cutting by Mahesh (it was his birthday you see) we as in the 8.5 joined by the 4.5 move off to see the Har Mandir Sahib (Golden Temple in other words).

We find it standing quietly in a pool, its gold covered domes proudly exhibiting the fight against odds it has stood for over centuries. The immaculate cleanliness of the entire premises is something to be seen to be believed. Thousands visiting it every day yet not a speck of dust to be seen anywhere.

Sitting by the pool as it grows dark, the lights come up and so do the many fishes in the tank - its a sight in itself.

We meet Mahesh’s parents at the complex; they are in town for some work and are staying very close to the Temple. They are an amazing couple. The lady is a great organiser and is reputed to turn around projects with her meticulous planning and amazing management skills. At the moment she is associated with Nanhi Chhaon earlier she was the Principal of a girl’s college in Ludhiana. The gentleman is I believe the strong silent support on which she leans to take forward her dreams.

We eat a simple meal at the langar and then move on to where Mahesh’s parents are putting up to share a few moments of togetherness. It’s an amazing collection of people and the easy way in which they all mingled was a sight to see.

Late night, bone tired we retire to our hotel rooms with the promise of more sightseeing the next day.

A quick visit to the Durgiana Mandir which is a replica of the Har Mandir Sahib (I don’t understand the whole business of replicating, why can't a new design be made?) later we head towards the Jalianwala Bagh. The place gave me goose bumps, could almost hear the marching boots of the soldiers in that narrow corridor.

The question that came to my mind more than anything else is how could the soldiers fire on their fellow brethren without there being any provocation at all? No less than terrorists those guys.

SHOPPING!!!!!!!!!!!!! came next. The men on hearing that dreaded word promptly abandoned the women and went off to the hotel room. While we women bought suits, papads, spicy wadis etc etc.
Exhausted finally we arrived back at the hotel. Lunch and a little catnap later we were ready for the trip to Wagah Border.
We were on the road sharp at four along with multitudes of other cars headed towards the border to see the special ceremony being put up for the Independence Day as also the flag lowering ceremony.

It rained and rained and we all got drenched and with thousands of our countrymen shouted Jai Hind and Zindabad till we were quite hoarse. The high point of the trip to me was the instant applause and cheerful waves I got from the Pakistani side when I waved at them.

The trip back was mostly in silence thanks to the small matter of us women getting separated from the men folks and some tense moments endured therefore.
The next morning we were up at 3 am to board our train back to Delhi.

(Incase you are wondering what’s familiar about eight and a half, there is a classic film by the maestro Fellini by the same name.)