Orange City and a train to Delhi

For as long as I remember Nagpur's shown the way to get to
Vizag from Orissa when a particular bridge would go down
(during the monsoons) near Rayagada. But then, the credit
for that goes more to my brother who stays at Nagpur
(again for almost as long as I can remember), as in his
presence there used to make the longer haul worth the effort.

Nagpur is also where I have brethren in the form of the
Wanderlust Motorcycling Club and though I haven't really
managed to bond with them collectively, Anukaran (their
founder member and moderator) is a fellow tripper in a number
of ways dealing with belief and faith and an old, old friend.
Not that I needed a reason to ride to Nagpur, but these two
and Rider Mania were why I had been here on the Bullet in 2007.

You can say I have developed a soft corner for Nagpur's
laidback character and even developed some kind of a
familiarity with its bucolic and easy-going nature. All this
of course in comparison with the chaotic and wannabee hi-tech
city nature of development (or at least the traffic) in the
Deccan. Nagpur also means excursions to Tadoba (where I have
been lucky enough to "experience the mystique of a forest"
twice) and Kanha (where I haven't been yet) and catching up
on various types of entrepreneurial planning with my brother
-- in bars where they serve salted groundnuts on the house and
every second middle aged patron seems to be having an
adulterous affair, all alone with a glass of his tipple...

And of course, Nagpur means oranges and all the delectable
namkeen eats -- of which I never tire and about with my brother
knows more than most people who work for Haldiram. And Shahji
cuisine -- primarily non-veg food cooked with extraaaaa spice
and supposedly hot enough to make a mule do cartwheels.

However, all this sampling of Namkeen, Oranges etc. stayed
behind me in the past; because this time my brother (and bhabhi)
were fasting on account of Navaratri. I did manage to eat two
big (and really filling) samosas (on the way to my brother's
place from the station) -- the traditional Nagpuri way, broken
into pieces and doused with generous helpings of kadhi and a
watery channa / choley gravy. And yes, not to forget, served
along with a very long and very hot, raw green chilly.

I did manage to meet Anukaran for a bit and we discussed
development, tripping, books and this and that over Coffee.
Need to catch up with him more often and try and trip more
in Nagpur itself :-)

My train to Delhi was to leave in the afternoon. And it did
(with me in it as a reserved passenger, thanks to my brother's
efforts). But the highlight of that day was the Sabu Daana Poha
that my bhabi made for breakfast. Absolutely otherworldy, with
a wealth of slivers of potatos (and a dash of onions) fried
golden brown and the Sabu Daana looking like pearls with a
rice-whiteness at their centre. I had two helpings. Or did
I have two and half of them. Oh bliss.

After my brother saw me off at the station and into what was
already a badly smelling compartment (the train comes from up
ahead, somewhere near Mumbai and must have baked to stinking
point in the Vidarbha heat) I read a bit of Pessoa and then
promptly got down to stealing a "sitting" nap. Which meant
this was the second time I was taking a post prandial nap --
without a very heavy lunch, mind it -- in two days. Must be
something to do with the to and fro clackety clack of the
trains...or must be something to with the aimlessness of my
mind's wanderings...but anyway, there you have, I promptly
fell asleep.

I must have slept a couple of hours -- in the "now on,
now off" fashion that is possible when the concerned sleep
is in the presence of the comings and goings of a large
, breathing and brushing by you...when the silence of a
train that has stopped woke me up. And I found myself in
the middle of probably more trees than there are in all of
Hyderabad.

Oh, well maybe I exaggerate, but I am sure I was somewhere
in the midst of what is Kanha National Park and not so
surprisingly enough there was no signal on the phone. With
nothing much on my mind and a now very stationary and now
chugging along at a snail's pace train inviting me to do
something photographic, I pulled out the camera and spent
the next half an hour or so going along with the flow of
my eye...till the train gathered pace and became more or
less too unstable (and fast) to do any shooting from. I
mean, I am a veteran of taking photos from moving trains --
in the bygone era of film cameras, in fact -- so it was
evident to me that the exercise would be wasteful even
in digital. So I desisted after shooting a couple of
sunflares.


Then, it was time to desist and pack up the camera and
start looking out for the wares of the mystical orient...
okay, okay... I mean look out for what seems worth the
effort that it take for a gallop -- to and fro from the
moving address called a Sleeper Class Compartment -- but
then I was kind of lethargic this time around. For one,
there was a packet packed for me -- by my bhabhi -- that
was supposed to be either lunch or dinner or whatever else
I wanted to eat it as. And on top of it I had got two
Samosas and a Batata Wada packed at Nagpur Railway Station
(I forgot to mention I also had another two Samosas here,
the traditional Nagpuri way...with Kadhi and Channa / Choley
curry). Which meant that unless I was intent on stocking up
like a hibernating bear it made sense to cut down on my intake.

Besides (like I doubt if I am a photographer because photography
doesn't obsess me) I doubt if I am foodie, if being a foodie
means putting food above everything else.

After all, there is only this much one can eat.

I am not saying I went on a fast just after I realized this
home truth. I do remember having something else in the train...
either a plate of Samosas or a plate of Batata Vadas...can't
remember, must be the constant snoozing that I was resorting to...
or the other type of writing that I was doing on the phone.

I do remember getting down to stretch my legs and "see what's
on offer" on the platform at Itarsi. And almost pinching myself
at the sight of a small "chaat bandi" -- with a steaming Tawa --
one corner of a regular refreshments centre of the type where
sometimes you will find people selling Idlis hard enough to
replace cricket balls and bread that's staler than most Bollywood
jhatkas.

Yes, a "chaat bandi" selling fresh, hot piping chat on a railway
platform. So for a minute I did think that maybe I am dreaming it
up...and missing the Durga Puja Pandals of Rourkela where I used
to gorge on Chaat, Gol Gapas and other delectables every year...but
then, I decided to lay aside that nostalgia trip for later; and waded
into the crowd around the steaming Tawa.
This wasn't exactly Chat on offer here. Maybe the patrons (around
the time I was there) are mostly from ex-Mumbai trains...so what
was steaming on the Tawa was "postered / signboarded" as "Paav
Bhaaji" and though the Paav was lilliputian and the "Bhaaji" but
the peas you get in normal Chat, I must say it was really tasty.
And at 10 Rs. for a plate, I wouldn't report these people to
the guardians of Paav Bhaaji purity either.

Then it was time to go back to the train and peform the required
contortions. To get into the topmost berth (the one assigned to me).
After I had finished my packed dinner and one of the Nagpuri Samosas.

What did I do with the rest, you may ask...

Lurched across half the swaying train (mentally kicking myself
for my greed) and found a dhoti-attired Sadhu sleeping in the
vestibule, his head ( with the hair in Jata) resting on a woolen
blanket. Patted him gently and when he came awake, reverentially
put the polythene in his hand.

I was still kicking myself mentally for my greed, but at least
it turned out in a good cause and I ended up feeding a man of God.

I do remember I was thinking of food while I was trying to sleep;
that led to some happy dreams of Kukkad and Lassi, or rather
mountains of Kukkads and waterfalls of Lassi.

Nothing called greed when it comes to dreaming, no?