The
rain at 80 kmph is a smear on the windshield. And when the rain is gone, the
remaining droplets on the windshield drift up and away and scatter in formation
and disappear. Sometimes we pass through blue skies and some sunshine, only to
be replaced by more dark, ominous clouds pregnant with rain that blisters onto
the car again. And this happens in sequence. Seated in the car are Rajdeep,
Arnab and me and we are going to Garpanchakot. Its monsoon and the fields of
Bengal have been coated rich and thick with cultivation, rivers have surged to
menacing levels and towns have been flooded with copious amounts of rain.
days have passed after we had returned back to the city since that trip ended, but
certain things stood out and kept on harping back.
That
morning excursion in the scant rain when we had uncovered a new, hidden, rain
soaked Bengal. Rain that was scattered on the windshield. Rain that held onto
the flowers, leaves, grasses and left behind a soaked earth. And the wet, narrow,
winding, metaled forest roads in the periphery of the Panchet hill, on which we
traveled for miles without seeing another oncoming vehicle. And sometimes lost our
way. This was the Bengal of paddy fields, bullock carts, climbing creepers,
grazing goats , country chicken and farmers armed with a sickle checking on
their harvests over which loomed the mist filled hillocks. Rural, organic and
simple – where everything basked in the green of the freshest hue – tender
leaves that were born the previous night, flower buds that bloomed into flowers
and butterflies that feasted on the nectar.
Being
men, we had the fewest of qualms and were very low on expectations. A shelter
to stay, some food to eat and clean linen to wear was all that we wanted. But
the blissful sleep, long walks, rainy drives, old remembrances, the tea and bakery biscuits from the road
side shacks, hot Puri-Tarkari, fiery pakodas dusted with spices, fine long
grained rice, dal, alu bhaja and the tender goat meat curry, warm lyangchas
that melted in the mouth had a heartwarming effect on us.
Had this journey been a decade back, then it would have been one of untrained wilderness. But now that we had “grown”, things had mellowed down and it was subtly different. You always needn’t smile, to show that you are happy. It is more a matter of the mind.
