In my little travel history, I have learned many new things. Sometimes it is good, sometimes bad. But all my experiences always helped me a lot to pursue another adventure. I am not a hero, rather a diplomatic, fearful human being. And I know it. In any new situation, I tend to overthink and make it more difficult in my mind, even before facing it. But most of the times it had become a good memorable experience for me. Here today I am going to share one such story with you. Many of you may have experienced or heard the same. My experience had happened in Pondicherry.

Pondicherry is one of the coolest city I had visited. And the only problem there was the language problem. Mainly when I had to communicate with the locals. Most of them speak Tamil as it is their ‘s official language, along with Telugu and Malayalam. They also speak Mahe and Yanam . And none of them I know. Despite this big problem, I enjoyed my solo travel in Pondy. And the experience I wanted to share had happened with me on my last day in Pondy when I checked out from my hostel at 11:30 pm.

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The start

I was partying with my hostel friends as we were going to part away in a few hours. When we realised the moment had come, it was 11:30 pm and my bus for Chennai was at 12:15am. My emotional vulnerable roommates decided to drop me at the bus stop. But I was reluctant as they all were drunk and I did not want them to fall in any trouble for me in a new city. But they forced me and in two bikes they dropped me at the bus stop. There I insisted them to go back and not to wait for the bus to come. As they left, at that hour, I realised it was an isolated, empty bus stop. I had planned to take the bus ride from Pondy to Chennai for a new pocket-friendly experience. And the bus ride takes only 3 and half an hour. I had a flight for Mumbai at 9 AM. Everything looked perfect, until that moment of isolation arrived.

So I was sitting and waiting for my bus to come. All the shops were closed, one or two people were looking at me while passing from there. Only street lights were giving company. At that moment I realised a bus stop is a big place if it is empty. It is also the quietest place if there are no honks, engine sounds, no people with heavy luggage, no big buses waiting for the passengers and ready to hit the road, no hurried people. Few buses, trucks sometimes were breaking my chain of thoughts and the silence while crossing the high way. I was enjoying the time until I saw those two people. They were sitting on a bike and chatting and looking at me. Their presence made me concerned. Both of them were almost 6 feet tall, well build and dark.

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The trouble

I startled when suddenly my phone rang. The conductor of my bus called to inform me that the bus was arriving in 10 minutes. I checked the watch, the bus was 10 minutes early. Thank god. He told me to wait near Indira Gandhi statue. I looked behind me, in front of me, right and left of me, there was no sign of our ex-prime minister’s statue. I asked him about the situation of the statue. But he had learned to say a few set things in English. According to his vocabulary, my question was out of his syllabus. He started to explain things in his mother tongue. I could not understand a word. I had no option but to ask those two men about Indira Gandhi statue’s location. They looked at me and said “wrong side”. All I could understand was that I was on the wrong side, and I did not know the right side.

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I looked at them confusingly. He tried to explain in their language, that the correct place was 3/4 minutes away from my current location. And I needed to go from the outside as the middle connected gate was closed at that hour. I did not know whether to trust them or not. The outside was dark and empty. And they were constantly checking me out and my bag pack. Above that, I had already spend 3/4 minutes to understand their instructions. So I picked up my bag pack and started walking outside. Suddenly they called me and pointed at their bike. I did not feel comfortable at that hour, so I kept on walking. And I heard the start sound of that bike. That came near me, those men tapped hard on my bag pack and pointed at their back seat again. I thought they asked me to put my bag pack at their back seat and leave. I tried to ignore them and started walking again. That time they grabbed my bag pack.

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The End

Instantly I made my survival plan. If the bag pack could save me the trouble, better I gave it to them without any fight. I had my tickets, a few bucks and passport in my small pouch. Hopefully, they did not notice that yet. I needed to catch the bus, at any cost, or else things could turn worse at that time for a stranger like me. I released my bag pack and placed it on their bike’s back seat and started walking in a hurry. My phone started ringing again.

He stopped me again, I thought now they would take the phone. He said “Inke Irukkai” (Seat Here) and pointed at the back seat. I thought of running, but by the time he snatched the mobile from me and started talking with the conductor, he cut the call, gave me back my phone and showed me the back seat again. When I got back my phone, a relief ran down. I climbed on the back seat for two reasons. I had no option, they did not let me go. Secondly, they returned the phone so I could take a chance with them.

Safe Journey

They took me in front of our ex-prime minister’s statue. The Volvo bus was waiting for me. I was ashamed of my thoughts. I hugged him and said, “thank you anna”. He did not expect a hug. He smiled and said “Patukappana Payanam”. I thought he was asking for money for the favour. As I put the hand inside my pocket, he said “Safe journey, and started his bike and left.

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A few years back I was busy doing a project in Lonavala, Maharashtra. And one Friday evening, I met this lady there, “Hirava Aaji’ means “grandmother in green”. Every Friday evening in Lonavala Bajar, a weekend market used to run. Clothes, fancy items, chikki, vegies, fudge, decorative pieces, it used to be a carnival. That evening I had no work, so went for little trolling. The moment I reach in the weekend market I got stuck. Seeing people buying things, family, couples, friends were enjoying the nice and breezy weather, I felt a little lonely.

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And I saw her

Slowly I moved to a nearer tea stall and asked for a cup. Meanwhile, in a corner, I saw greenery. It was so green that one could not move their sight.

An old lady, in green sari and blouse, green bangles in her both wrists, chains in her neck, and a red vermillion round tika on her forehead, was selling all kinds of green leaves; mint, pudina, methi, green chillies. She was sitting in front of a closed shop, with a grumpy expression on her face. She was looking right through me.

I was surprised and started thinking, “How did I offend her?” The tea seller understood my confusion and said, “She is asking for a tea, I am busy here with the customers. I asked her to come and collect but she wants it served there.” I said, “oh it is not a big deal then, give me the tea, I will give it to her”. The tea seller warned me, “no Saheb, rehun de, she is not nice to people. Her husband has left her and never returned for more than 5 years. Since then she turned really rude”. Still, I took the cup and went to her.

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The interaction

She asked rudely, “Tu Kona ahesa?” (Who are you). I showed her the teacup in my hand. She took it and said, “tumko kaun lane ke liye bola” ( Who asked you to get the tea for me). I just smiled, thinking that she would be soft post this. But she did not smile back. I tried to start a conversation, “Aaji why you all green?” She looked at me and asked, “why, majhe?” “Why are you in jeans and a t-shirt?”. I did not know what to say. I fumbled and said, “no what I meant that you are so green, it’s good to see that. Is this for some religious belief? I am just curious.” I smiled.

Her expressions became more aggressive when she uttered these words, “this is the problem of you people. You join religion with every colour”. She was way more progressive than I am. I felt ashamed. She looked at me, and that time she spoke with me quite mildly. I got to know how she is being judged every day in her village by her people, for not looking for the husband who left her behind. None of her children took care of her. In this situation, like any human being, I felt compassionate. And like any human being, we show compassion by making a compensate. I did the same mistake.

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The learning

“500?… Do you want 500 rupees coriander? What will you do with so much dhaniya? Take your money, I can earn. I take this money today, people will observe it and judge this. They will ask silly questions and irritate me. And I don’t want to spoil my habit of earning money” I turned and about to go back, then she called me again, and smiled that time and said, “yeh Dhaniya leke jao, ma ko bolna mast chatni banake khilaye”. Take the coriander, ask your mother to make a nice chutney out of it.

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The Sonajhuri Haat:

I do believe in GOD. God for me is there as the air, sometimes breezy, sometimes still, sometimes stormy. God is like my heartbeat, which goes fast, faster, or the fastest like the graph of my emotions. Or like the tiny hand which suddenly holds my pinkie finger on a sunny day in Sonajhuri Haat, Shantiniketan on a random day of a winter morning. That sudden warm, unexpected touch make me see the Goddess Kali stand beside me. 

My First Reaction

The Goddess surprises me not only with her unexpected occurrence but also with her 4 feet height and a purple sweater underneath her gorgeous blue dress. Goddess look at my poker face also. For a moment, doubt overpowers me, how can I see a God, that too, so small, a childlike. After few moments of doubt, something inside me slams me saying, I am killing a lifetime opportunity of meeting the God. I together all my slept devotions, and think of asking a boon. But the surprise does not end for me yet. Before I Can, the Goddess asks, “Can you give me 5 rupees? I will have pickles”. Few moments ago, my mind used all its energy in thinking, clearing doubts, mounting my devotions, smashing my central logic, so it decides to take a break after hearing this question. What else I can expect? God wants money! 5 rupees! for pickles! So, I can’t not answer anything and keep staring.

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And The Start

God is kind, as she thinks of giving me another chance. She must know well that People don’t see God’s everyday like cattle, so they tend to confuse. She shrugs me and asks again but with now little command, “Give 5 rupees”. And my hand itself slips inside my pocket and comes out with 10 rupees note. As I stretch it towards her, I experience the difference. We want more than we need, but the Goddess knows what exactly she wants. As, she takes the note and tells me, “oh, you don’t have a change, wait here, from the pickle seller I will bring you the change”. I look at the pickle seller, who is doing fail attempts at protecting pickles from the flies.

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After she buys some pickles, she comes to return my money. And the sight touches me. That’s the power of simplicity and purity. My heart suddenly feels lighter when I see her coming towards me with the change in one hand, and licking the pickles from the other. All thoughts release my mind and hurt from its clutch. And I kneel in front of her and asks: “can you please spend the day with me at the fair? We will roam around, and I will feed you on time”. After a moment’s thought she says: “Okay, but my brother will join me in an hour. Can you feed both of us?”. Goddess Kali’s brother? I never heard or read about him. Should I dare to ask? What if my ignorance upsets the Goddess? But the God is Omniscient. She says, “My brother’s name is Rohit, you will see him”. Excuse me, what! Isn’t “Rohit” a modern name? She starts walking by my side while licking the pickle. GOD is the big prankster, I must say.

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The Experience

In the fair, the bauls (Bengal’s folk singers) are singing loud in colloquial phrases, but the rhythm and the music are so soothing that we could not resist ourselves to go there. They welcome us, one of them wave his hand to the Goddess and say: “Pinky, is everything alright at home?”. And hearing this, my mind speaks again, “PINKY! The Goddess has a nickname too! Why all the Bengalis have to keep a nickname, and that to the Goddess too. No wonder her brother’s name is Rohit”. Pinky smiles and tells them to sing a song.

Now the Goddess tells me her story that she stays very far, in an interior village. And she loves this Sonajhuri fair, so every week Saturday and Sunday she visits here, sometimes as Goddess Kali, sometimes as Lord Krishna, sometimes as Shiva. Not only that, she bunks her Saturday school every week to come here. She is an artist, a polymorphous.

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Rohit

I feel like offering her some food. But the Goddess is little reluctant to have anything else; she refuses ice-cream, chocolate, more pickles, rice and fish curry until Rohit comes and joins us. Rohit has no Godly elements, he is an 11 years old, cool dude, in the winter he has unbuttoned his upper chest. He sits calmly under a tree with a hesitant smile on his face.

Now we eat together, listens to the baul songs. I am feeling enlightened, never felt that pure ever. End of the day Rohit’s hesitant smile changes.

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The End

Our time ends like a magic. Finally, Goddess tells me, “We will leave now”, it feels like a Dashami day, I again kneel in front of her, asks her, “can I give you something, whatever you want”. She nods a no, then she says, “if you come tomorrow, then we will meet again”. But I have to return, but one part of me wanted to ignore all the responsibilities and stay for one extra day, but that was just not possible. The Goddess understands me again without me uttering a single word. She gives a smile and about to leave. Then suddenly she comes back, holds my pinkie finger again and asks: “can you buy me a small size Saree?”

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