Once Upon a Time in Thapar

"Madam, we promise we will return the rucksacks and the tent, with no damage, in time. It is just 4 days trip madam. No, madam, we don't have the money to keep as security, please please take our watches as collateral". That did the trick, it always worked. (Those were the times, when people still wore watches). We got the basic stuff from Thapar's Hiking and Mountaineering club. It helped that the teacher responsible for the club was our Psychology prof and we had decent image. We had to collect some more items, gloves, jackets and if possible, hiking shoes. We had a lot of friends in the hostel!

This was first of the three trips that we would eventually make on the same trek - Kandaghat to Chail. Patiala to Solan is 2.5 to 3 hours, by bus. By the time we reached Solan it was dinner time. Had stomach full at one of the dhabhas close to the bus stand. Took a local bus to kandaghat. A few hundred meters from the Kandaghat bus stop, a narrow track slopes down to the Ashwani Khad. To get to Chail, one has to go down, cross the Ashwani khad gorge and then back up the mountains on the other side. We waded thru' shoulder tall grass, with candle in a steel glass acting as a make shift torch. We got to the bottom of the gorge and tried to pitch the tent. After multiple failed attempts, we decided to spread it on the ground itself. Mulay and I went around to collect fire wood, while Mahajan got ready to make tea. Mahajan  lit the fire and put the pot to boil. I found some mint smelling shrubs in the dark.Yeah! Mint flavored black tea! Mahajan tended to the chai while Mulay and I lit the left over cigar. Lying down on the spread out tent, watching the stars in the clear sky, it never felt so good. Chai got ready. Mahajan picked the pot from the fire to pour, spilled most of it. What the .... next few minutes, it was free for all, choicest expletives got exchanged. We drank what was left. It was cold, we slept in the spoon position, with blankets on. We were still cold, we took out all clothes, one by one, from shirt, towel to our underwear, from the rucksack and put on top of us.
Morning was crisp, white and bright. It was the sound of mule hoofs that woke us. Mules around us were drinking water from the stream close to where we are sleeping. The guy tending to the mules came over, asked us what we were doing. We sweet talked. We were always good at that! The guy offered us to come to his place for breakfast. We brushed, washed, packed, got ready for the breakfast. We went up the hill on a narrow track, reach a thatched roof house. We sat in the verandha, ate thick chappatis, took some pictures with the host, got directions for Chail, thanked the host and got on the way.

There was a stream to cross. Thankfully, we picked the right spot to cross over, remembering the proverb "still water runs deep". From here on it was climb up the hill.  Mahajan in front, I in the middle and Mulay bringing up the rear. Frequently Mulay and I caught ourselves catching our breath and looking at Mahajan, climbing effortlessly in front of us. "Sala motor". It must have been close to 1pm, we were dead tired.  We must have been walking for 4 hours. We rested under a tree, an almond tree, laden with fruit. Couple kids came and stood on the otherside of the track looking curiously at us. They were shy. We picked some almonds from the tree, gave to the kids. Kids took them and disappeared. A few minutes later kids returned. They had Khira in their hand, for us. The most delicious khira I ever had, juicy. We picked more almonds and gave to them. They again disappeared. A few minutes later kids came back, this time with a man in tow, their father. The guy gave us more Khiras. We chatted for a bit. We learned that the almond tree was also his! Oops! The man invited us for lunch. We politely declined.  He insisted. Never to let go of the 2nd chance, we followed him down the hill. He had a thatched roof house, a veranda in front and stepped farm beyond that. One lady came out of the house, we bowed to her. The man told her to make some chapatis for us. She disappeared in the house. The man took us to his farm. Showed us what was growing, maze and turmeric. He insisted that we take some with us. We talked him out of it. Did not want to carry more weight. What would we have done with turmeric. Chappatis were ready. Muuuuah! Pure nectar. We gobbled 2 each in less time than it takes to say "chappati". With a remaining appetite for atleast 2 more each, I looked at Mulay, ah! ok,  remaining appetite for 4 more, we told the host to stop. Our civility forced us to decline more. Before hunger could get better of the civility, we took some pictures, thanked profusely and left.

Up and down, up and down a  few hills and we weren't sure if we were headed in the right direction. The track did not have mule shit! "Shit! not the right track". We spotted some huts down the narrow path. It was a 30 minute detour to get to those huts. It was getting dark. Before we reached the huts, we ran into this guy, who was leading a pack of mules out of the hutments. He offered to put us back on the right track to Chail. We could see the lights on the hill. A few more kilometers perhaps. Rucksack was feeling heavier, legs were wobbly. It felt as if the last few kilometers are going to kill me. Mulay was almost dead. Mahajan, sala motor! Finally, we could see the road. We got there and sat. Lit the left over of the left over cigar.

Walk on the road was not too steep. We were near the town now. Stopped this guy and asked him for the direction to the Gurudwara. Reached the Gurudwara, payed our respects and asked for shelter. Gurudwaras never refuse. We were allowed to stay in the main hall, on the first floor. We dumped our stuff and came out. Spotted this dhaba. Everything else became a blurr. Rajma, aloo gobhi and tandoori roti. The bestest ever Rajma and the crispest ever tandoori roti that I ever had. In an otherwise very focused event, where nothing came between us and the food in front of us, we only had one interruption when we exchanged expletives on Mulay dipping his finger in Rajma, every time he scooped it up with his roti. We lit remains of the cigar, Mahajan watched the smoke, too tired to talk. We went to the Gurudwara, spread our ground sheet and the tent on the floor. The moment we rested our head on the floor, we were asleep.

The guy must have yelled for a while before we woke up. Its was morning. We had our shoes inside the main Gurudwara hall. Shoot! We collected our stuff and were out in less than 5. On the side of the road was a hand-pump. Ladies filling water at the pump were curiously looking at us as we brushed, washed, and packed. A new day had started and we had to get to Shimla by evening...

A Friend!

He was allotted room next to mine in the hostel. My first recollection of him, he was little plump, he was wearing his pants high, aptly fitted the nick name that we gave him some time later "Uncle".

We got along well during the college. I don't know how our friendship started, but Uncle told me later that it started with an ordinary conversation. Bunch of us were in one room. The topic of discussion was our first program that all of us had written on a Unix system and everyone had taken a printout on a line printer. Suddenly the conversation took an ugly turn, one guy accused the other of taking his printout! To most this would seem too trivial a thing to fight about. But, imagine, these were a set of people, who had not seen a computer before, much less worked on one. For everyone the first program was a novelty and an achievement, taking a printout of the programming gibberish  that they could take home and show to their parents or friends was a big thing! Especially when there was no chance of getting another printout (Printouts were regulated by the lab in charge).

I was laying on the bed, face down, half asleep. When the argument got louder, I yelled back, yaar tu mera printout le lena. Everything quitened down! Uncle recalled later, Manish you seemed ultra cool.  I think that is what started it.

Uncle was an exceptional singer.  He also liked to drink. More than once we ended up holding glucose bottles in the hospital to get the muck out of his stomach! At one time, his hospital stay came right in the middle of our exams, where he, one more friend and I ended up missing exam for one subject, that we could not afford to miss.  At Thapar, for every subject, there used to be three internal exams of max 30 marks each and one final semester exam for max 40 marks. Students had the option to pick the best two of the three internal exams, which along with the score in the final semester exam used to determine the grade in a particular course.

Three of us, Uncle, another friend and I, after initial 2 semesters figured a way to work the system to our advantage, at least that is what we thought! Every semester, we decided to skip one internal exam completely and use that time to go on hiking and trekking trips in the lower Himalayas!  When the entire class was busy giving exams, the three of us  would  take off, once every semester, for a week or so. That way, we never missed any classes and also did what we enjoyed!

However, this used to take the flexibility of choosing the best two out of the three scores away from us. We used to only have two scores with the third being "Not Appeared" in all the subjects.

Now you probably understand the crisis situation when Uncle  hit the bed right in the middle of an internal exam that we could not afford to skip! We came up with a grand plan to get out of this sticky situation. Though the situation was of our own making, but our classmates, all of them, with no exception, contributed and helped. I truly think that I was privileged to have such an exceptional set of classmates! When I look back, I am sometimes amazed that it happened. In Thapar grading is relative, top 10 percentile get  "A" grade, next 20 get "B" and so on. It was clear that the three of us, having missed two internal exams and having to score out of a max of 70 marks  (One internal exam 30 marks and one final semester 40 marks), would certainly get "F" grade. We suggested to our classmates that we reduce the max marks for that subject from 100 (30 and 30 from two internal exams and 40 from final semester exam) to 70 for everyone. The rational, since grading was relative, if the max marks for everyone get reduced to 70, no one would lose! To reduce the max marks to 70, it was proposed that in the final semester exam for that subject, none of our classmates, other than the three of us, would attempt questions for more than 10 marks! Imagine this happening in a professional college where competition is intense.

It is a different story that our professor was not too amused and he decided to give "D" to everybody, the lowest grade, just short of failing everybody.

Number of times we sat on the roof of our hostel, where he sang songs with I being the only requester and  exclusive audience.

We both smoked. We used to go on long walks from our hostel to the college gate to buy one stick on credit from the panwala (I actually met the same panwala again after 20 years. He still sits in the same pan shop, though there is a lot more competition now. His kids have grown up and have all gone thru' their school education!). There we used to sit on the benches of the dabha near by and used to talk about everything that would interest young boys of 20-21. Thoughts seeped deep in idealism, with no connection to reality, to everything about girls that can't be printed.

Like all relationships, our friendship also went thru' ups and downs. We had our own differences, which at one point got to  an extent that we were not on talking terms for a few semesters.

We even rallied the entire class to boycott lectures of one professor for good one month, because he had addressed one of the girls in our class derogatorily. I do not know if our method of protest was right or not, but those were the days when we were not ready to take anything lying down. If we thought something was not right, we stood up and fought!

I don't think my stay in Thapar would have been half the fun, had Uncle not been around. At the farewell party, I was adjudged the best outgoing student. When I walked up the stage a part of me wanted to call Uncle and the other friend to come on the stage and share the award with me. However, the moment came and went. I still think, the three of us deserved the award as a group, for our exploits during our stay in the campus were not complete without each other!