First sojourn to the plains with memories to treasure

Spice of Life: It was for the first time that I tasted something cooked in a dhaba. The nation was facing food scarcity and eateries were told not to serve more than four chapatis per meal

Fifty-six years ago, I along with my father and siblings had walked to the tehsil headquarters and stayed there overnight. In the morning, we boarded a bus that took us to Nadaun, where the Beas river had to be crossed.

It was exhilarating to ride a passenger train to Amritsar; another first for me. We were blessed by our visit to Harmandar Sahib. (Sameer Sehgal/HT)

A tributary of the river was in spate and we had to wait. While waiting, we had our meals. It was for the first time that I tasted something cooked in a dhaba. The nation was facing food scarcity and the eateries had instructions not to serve more than four chapatis per meal. Whether it was the limit on the chapatis or the food was tasty, I was left a little hungry.

We walked on a pontoon bridge to cross the river and boarded another bus that climbed up and down through verdant hills. When we reached Hoshiarpur, the dark of the night had descended. We stayed in an inn without electricity. A small joint near the inn that served makki ki roti with dal was the place for our candlelight dinner. Heavenly it was!

Father took us a little around Hoshiarpur and it included a visit to the now dilapidated Sheesh Mahal. Here, I took my first ride on a cycle rickshaw. Few cars and scooters were seen for the first time but I was awestruck by the large number of bicycles. For the first time, I saw huge hoardings.

In Jalandhar, we had our meals at the railway canteen for 50 paise each. Here, I also learnt of the working of the flush system in a lavatory. Father took us to the premises of a newspaper to let us have a glimpse of how a daily was composed and printed; how a ‘Quatib’, a calligraphist, actually wrote a full newspaper page in Nastaliq script for an Urdu daily.

It was exhilarating to ride a passenger train to Amritsar; another first for me. We were blessed by our visit to Harmandar Sahib. A visit to Durgiana Mandir supplemented it. We visited Jallianwala Bagh and saw its bullet marks on small-sized Lahori bricks as also the well into which patriots had jumped to avoid the bullets but perished in that attempt.

I noticed ladder-like structures atop some buildings and learnt of the television and its antennas that picked up the signal in those times. It was thirst quenching to gulp down fresh sweetened soda water that was dispensed in bottles with a pinched neck and sealed airtight with a glass marble, the kanche wali bottle! Back in the village it was always free, but paying 10 paise for two roasted corn cobs was another experience.

All passengers had joined to fill up the muddy earth with stones when our home-bound bus failed to climb up through the slush of a rain-soaked unmetalled road. Once the bus crossed the hurdle, father narrated the story of King Bruce and the spider. In between, the radio set bought by him in Jalandhar brought music and news.

Now parents take children to exotic places; to mountains and to islands. I, born in the hills, had made my first sojourn to the plains and still treasure the memories. kumarr5803@gmail.com

The writer is a retired professor of medicine at Dharamshala