Aurangabad: A journey of pride




Victory of good over evil  - A cave painting at Ajanta
Photograpy - Aabeer Choudhury

  Let me explain the title right away. This is the childhood dream of a middle class boy from small town India realised. His dream was to sponsor his parents and himself a five star vacation. He realised it when he was 22. He is me.

 It was summer 2009; we had just disembarked from Tapovan Express at the Aurangabad railway station.I had arranged the tour through the company that I used to work for, wanted to impress my parents, wanted them to experience the kind of ‘tours’ of India that I used to sell to foreign nationals. An Innova  greeted us at the railway station along with the placard which read 'Thomas Cook welcomes Aabeer Choudhury’ and transferred us to the Welcom Hotel  Rama International. My Mom knew about our accommodation plans, my dad didn’t. He was in a shock when we crossed the hotel gates. Being a very miser traveller himself he thought that I would take them to a budget hotel due to influence of his DNA. 

We checked in and the bell boy loaded our luggage onto a trolley and escorted us to our rooms. I remembered the days of my industrial training as at the Taj Residency, Nasik. I was reminded of those days time and again when I saw the receptionist at work, the housekeeping staff cleaning our rooms and washroom, the garcon clearing our plates. This time it was different, I had made a transition from the staff to the customer within a span of three years. It felt great. I saw a calm in my mom’s face as my dad was busy inspecting everything from the glasses to the furniture. As he went out, I asked mom in Bangla “Ki holo Maa?” (What’s the matter Mom?). Her face turned from calm to emotional, I hugged her. She said “Kichu Naa.... bas Bhogobaan er Aashirbaad aimni tor shonge thakug” (Nothing, just hope that God blesses you always”) she said trying to control a tear of joy.

That evening we toured Panchakki which is  an engineering marvel dating back to the 17^th century. In its prime, the humble machiene used to utilize the kinetic energy of flowing water to grind grains for the locals. Next we visited the Biwi Ka Maqbara which is also known as the poor man’s Taj. It is unfortunate that this part marble structure is compared to the Taj Mahal and then rediculed because it makes a very impressive monument on its own.

Ellora
Photography - Lipika Choudhury

Ellora caves, one of the best Cave structures of our country was on our 'to visit' list next morning along with the impressive Daulatabad fort. Our accompanying guide for the day was Aasif (name changed); he was very thorough in his theory. Ellora is a massive collection of 34 rocks cut caves belonging to the Hindu, Buddhist and Jain religions. The massive carvings spellbound even the harshest travel critics, there are many impressive sculptures throughout the cave complex out of which Lord Shiva destroying Ravan’s pride as the latter attacked Kailash Parbat is the most memorable, every cave has a story to tell and hence it is advisable to hire a professional guide. After this we headed for the Daulatabad fort.  Daulatabad is a sturdy, mighty fort which has been conquered only once till date. Within its premises also stands tall with pride, the Chand Minar, the tallest minaret of India after the Qutub in Delhi.



Ellora Cave complex



After this we returned to our hotel. At the porch area I thanked Aasif, “ You will always be special to us, after all this was the first time I have taken my parents out on a vacation, and you have been a part of our journey” I said as I gave him his fees. I turned back towards the lobby and started walking in. I suddenly  heard  Aasif’s voice “ Mr. Choudhury, You should be proud of your son”. I started walking faster towards my room. My father had rarely ever complimented me in life, and that day was no different. Later on mom said that my dad replied to Aasif with an “I am”.

On our way to Ajanta
Photography - Aabeer Choudhury

The next day we woke up early as we had a 105 Km excursion to the Ajanta caves scheduled. Ajanta is a monument par excellence; it is incomparable to any monument I’ve seen till date. A series of about 30 caves situated on a horse – shoe shaped gorge along the Waghora river effortlessly tells the tale of the Buddha through its glorious and outstanding paintings. Its orientation being in the North – South direction has protected the paintings from the fury of the Sun God, unlike Ellora’’. The construction of the caves took place over the span of centuries commencing from 200 BC to AD 650. Then came in the surprise package of the tour. Srikanth (Name Changed) a guide who we managed to hire on location at the caves. A 50 plus short and soft-spoken gentleman, spoke about the monuments and described the paintings with such enthusiasm as if the monuments were crafted by his own hands. We listened like kindergarten kids to him.

He like anybody else thought my father was Aabeer Choudhury. He was shocked to know I was. “You don’t look old enough to be out of school, how could you work?” I began to get irritated. After a while when my parents were busy appreciating the caves, I and Srikanth had a touching conversation. He briefed me how his father was an uneducated slave, how he struggled to complete his education but emerged victorious with an M.Phil in Archaeology. “Today my son owns two farmlands where our ancestors were slaved and is now an agriculture scientist!!” he declared with pride. I shared my story with him

Photography - Aabeer Choudhury

Time had come to bid farewell to him. This journey of mine was emotionally enriching. I realised that if you really work hard and are honest and passionate about something, there is nothing in the world that can stop you from being the master of our own destiny. “All the best!” he said as we shook hands, “All the best to you and your son” I replied, I could almost see his eyes go moist as he turned around started walking fast and gradually disappeared into the crowd. This was the tale of this Travel Taler in which two sons made their respective parents proud in their own way.

P.S.  This journey could never have been possible without the help of Mr. Jaswant Singh, my ex-colleague from the Aurangabad branch of the company I used to work for. Thank you Jaswant, a self made man himself for helping us with all the arrangements.

 

Taj Mahal revisited, this time as a guide!

Almost anybody who has the fetish for travel and has the monetary resources and luck in their have-a –sack has visited the Taj Mahal. I have been fortunate enough to visit the monument  twice. The first  when I was a kid in class 6 when I was the ‘Kebab mein haddi’ for my parents in one of the most romantic  places of the planet.  However I will talk about my second visit that happened in late 2008; this time I was not only a tourist, I was a tour escort too. 

The time was about 22.00 hours in late October in Delhi. The pre winter chill had begun to scare people like me who had never lived in the North Indian planes before.  I had resigned and was serving the notice period at one of the leading tour operators of the world (as I wrote in the first post, I won’t mention its name). Although the office hours officially ended at 1800 hours, we were working late as it was peak tourist season time in the country.  I got a call from my immediate supervisor who was busy with a conference of scientists that the company was organising, “ Aabeer, wanna  go to Agra ?”. “What? When?” I said. “tomorrow! We have received an nth hour reservation for a same day Agra trip of about 11 pax, and at this hour we won’t be able to hire an escort. It’s your call entirely, but remember this can be a great add on to the revenue from these clients”. “Yes” I said immediately. Not because I wanted to go beyond the call of duty and become a hero for the company, but because I wanted to try something new. Besides I love to talk a lot, and where else would I get the opportunity to speak to 11 strangers of different nationalities, educating them about my motherland.

Photograpy - Carl Beard - a fellow traveller in the journey

I stayed in office overnight as I had to leave by 4 in the morning the next day. Worked till midnight sending out vouchers to hotels and branch office in Agra and then slept on the table (sounds pathetic and it was). By 5 in the morning we loaded all the guests in the bus from different hotels are left for Agra. I took the microphone and started talking like a guide “Good Morning, I am Aabeer.... we have just embarked on a Journey to one of the most glorious cities in the world, Agra. Agra along with Jaipur and Delhi constitute of the Golden triangle tourist circuit of India. We shall be visiting the Taj Mahal, which  is one of the most visited monuments around the globe, when we see the monument through  our eyes, we shall realise its reason for being so.... we shall be covering a distance of around 206 Kms and it will take us.....”. “Hay what’s that to our left?” a voice interrupted.  I looked there and was speechless, because I did not know what it was, being new to Delhi, I had never visited that monument. I asked the driver “Tughlaqabad Quilla?”, “Haan Ji” he replied, I informed the clients. I decided to shut up after that and took my seat.  After two hours we stopped midway at a restaurant, where the Japanese clients were amazed to see monkeys playing along within the boundary of human civilisation. A 50 plus client informed me “Monkeys” as he pointed towards them, “Really? I never knew” I thought to myself, “In my country, monkeys are found only in the mountains, not in the city and they are much smaller” he continued. I smiled as I thought “In my country the highest density of monkeys is found in the South Block! And they are much bigger and meaner”.



Photography - Carl Beard

We drove further , eventually reached the outskirts of Agra, the first monument to greet us was Itmad-ud-daula , the mausoleum of Akbar, I briefed the clients about this, from there we picked up Altaaf (name changed) our guide for Agra for the day.  As we entered the Taj Mahal Complex, he started chanting out his script of praise for the Taj which he had mastered since years. “ ...... and so even if the earthquake hits Agra, the pillars fall on the side and the main monument is safe” he exclaimed ” . Honestly I think the tourist paid a deaf ear to his words. The Taj Mahal doesn’t need words to be praised, it spellbounds you, leaves you speechless and time and again makes you feel closer to heaven.  All of us then clicked pictures with the monument in the backdrop.   While returning Altaaf announced “Congratulations! Former U.S. president Bill Clinton after visiting the Taj said there are two kinds of people in this world, the one who have seen the Taj Mahal and the one who haven’t, you are a part of the first league.” Everybody applauded. “Clinton must be saying that after every monument he visits!” I thought.

I made good friends with two of the clients, Carl Beard from U.K. and Tajima, a Japanese residing in U.S. the former I troubled entire day as he didn’t make an advance payment for the tour, he made it during the tour, he also mailed me the snaps of our tour. Tajima wrote my name in Japanese on a visiting card and gifted it to me; I returned the favour by writing his name in Devanagiri script.

We were supposed to visit the Agra fort after that, but Altaaf had other plans. He diverted the bus to a Marble complex. It was basically a means to earn commission. “Gentleman, the artisans that you see over here belong to the same dynasty as that of the craftsmen who carved the marble of the Taj Mahal.” After a while I asked him in a very soft voice only for him to hear, “Really??” he stared at me. This took a lot of time. After this we went to hotel Taj View (current day The Gateway, Agra) for lunch. My bosses in Delhi were getting worried that the customers won’t be able to visit the fort and would complain, but Altaaf played very smart. Eventually we couldn’t tour the monument; however we just parked our vehicle in front of the Fort. Rushed and clicked Snaps with the fort in the Background and rushed back to the bus as we needed to reach Delhi Airport on time for the clients to catch their flight.





Photography - Carl Beard

“Gentleman, what we just did was the fastest invasion of a fort in the history of mankind!!” this comment was greeted by a lot of applause and laughter. The tour came to an end as we started proceeding towards the national capital. While looking out from the window, into the vast barren fields covered with a blanket of fog I started thinking again, “the first time I visited the symbol of romantic love with my parents, the second time with 11 men (scientists to be specific), the next time will definitely be when I have a wife and yes I will definitely share it with you on my Blog ‘The Road Behind’.



Lost in Paradise

Lost in Paradise

This is one of the most interesting journeys I’ve ever made. The time was around mid winter 2006. It was my final year of graduation in Hotel Management from I.H.M. Goa. Having lived in one of the most beautiful parts of the country where people from around the world crave to holiday in, our entire duration of graduation seemed no less than a very long Holiday (except for the two weeks of exam per semester). However as the time for bidding farewell to this paradise was getting closer I somehow felt guilty of not doing justice to the so called holiday, I thought I did not explore the state at all. So I thought of having some Fun. I don’t booze neither do I smoke nor do I club so "What on earth could Goa offer a person like me ?" would have been a very apt question. The answer is lots, one just has to start looking out and Goa has something for everyone. I was very fond of historical places and I loved to explore the unexplored so I decided to visit Fort Terekhol, a small fort let along the Goa-Maharashtra border.

 Cyrus Thomas (Name Changed for obvious reasons), an outcast from our college, people found staring at a log of wood for days more interesting than being in his company. One day he asks me “Aabeer why don’t we go around, explore places some day, I don’t have any friends here, and hence I haven’t seen any place here since the last two years.” Well, I needed someone to share the expenses. I personally found nothing wrong with Cyrus, I always wondered “why are all my friends so terrified of Cyrus?” besides being an emotional fool, I tend to sympathise with such outcasts very easily, so we decided to explore Terekhol together. That day besides discovering the unexplored pristine locations of the hinterland I was also to discover why people were terrified of Cyrus.

We decided to rent a bike, against the license of my then roomie (who’s name I won’t mention). Cyrus had a driving licence but did not know how to ride a bike; I knew how to ride but did not possess a license. Anyway before setting off Cyrus delivered his first shocker --- “I will drive today.... I wanna learn how to drive a scooter!!” “You fool!” I thought, how can someone wanna learn how to drive anything on one of the most accident prone National Highways (NH – 17) of the country? He then said “I have also paid for it, we will drive it 50-50”. I paused for a second and then I asked him to try riding the bike on a colony road, He was terrible! He almost collided with the wall of his own house; we had a heated argument, after which he tried to sound sarcastic when he said “Ok, fine I understand that your life is more important than me learning something new. You drive”.

We drove up north till Pernem along the NH-17 and then turned west towards Fort Terekhol. The road runs almost parallel to the river Terekhol, which acts as a natural border between the states of Maharashtra and Goa. Fort Terekhol is the only ‘Goan’ Territory north of the river near its mouth. This entire road was much more surprising than I expected. The landscape around consisted of greens, barren lands, mountains, coastline all within a span of minutes. One of the most memorable experiences was that on a hot and sunny afternoon, we saw a densely forested mountain from a distance; but as soon as the road transformed into a ‘ghat’ and started cuddling the hill like an anaconda the temperature drastically dropped within seconds by at least an approximate 15 degrees, we could literally feel the chill. Soon we reached Querim, a little hamlet on the southern bank of the river near its mouth. We then embarked upon a ferry along with our bike (and ourselves) on a ferry (reminding us of Dil Chahta Hai) to the opposite bank of Terekhol, from where the fort was just a 5 minute drive. We finally reached the fort located on a hill top which is now converted into an upmarket hotel, Terekhol Fort Heritage and also has a tiny Chapel within the premises, the view from the fort is mind blasting. You get to see the serene Querim beach, the river, forests, countryside all from the same place. Being low on cash then we decided to return to a more reasonable place for lunch.

On the path of getting lost

While returning we found to our shock that the ferry service was closed due to low tide! We had two options, either we wait for hours for the service to restart, or we venture hinterland to find new routes. We choose the second, bad decision! We took the only road available which initially moved north, then turned east. Suddenly the quality of the road began to deteriorate, the dressing sense of people began to change, white kurta – Pyjama and white topis became more prominent. The MH tag on the vehicles outnumbered the GA ones. We were lost and we had no idea what to do, whom to ask for directions. Just as the thought “Are we in Maha....” crossed my mind, we spotted a Police check post which read 'Interstate Police something something... District Sindhudurg' and the only road that turned south (towards Goa was through this check post” we again had two choices. Either we don’t turn keep moving straight, in which case we could have even ended up in Karnataka! Or we turn south and ask the cops for directions. I choose the second. Worse Decision. “Pernem ya side la na ?? ( is this the way to Pernem ?) I asked the cops in Marathi. He replied with a smile “ Ho ikdech, Pan tu aadhi aat ye  !! ( yes this way, but first you come in” as fools we obliged, he asked for my licence, I asked Cyrus to show his.  The Cop said that wasn’t accepted since I was riding the bike. I faked “ it was he who was riding all the way, since the last 5 mins he had a stomach ache and hence I substituted” on hearing this Cyrus snatched the keys from my hand and went out to “Park the Bike properly”, now I will take you to a conversation between me and Cyrus before we began the trip

Cyrus : Pakde gaye toh kya Karege ??

Me : Yaar Tenssion na le, main sambhaal loonga

Cyrus : Yaar kuch bhi kar, Jhooth na boliyo Police ke saamne, mujhe haansi aati hai !!

Back to present tense. I was doomed. I somehow paid 150 bucks, convinced the cops to let us go, being rude would have made matters worse as this was a border check post to track smuggling of illegal stuff. I thanked all my Marathi friends, Teachers and textbooks since my childhood for equipping me with this language which saved me on that day. When the cop wanted to ‘shake hands’ with Cyrus, he just snatched his driver’s license and moved out !!.

After this we both had a huge fight, he wasn’t ready to share the expenses of the cop episode as this was entirely my fault. I had no choice. I had lunch at a tiny Tibetan outlet, he preferred to starve ! we returned to our rooms, my roomie had to discuss plans about a forthcoming Bangalore trip to find and win back his girlfriend whom he had lost touch since the last 5 years, but about that I shall write some other  day.

Mean while in the evening we decided to visit IFFI at Panji, on the way he wanted me  to withdraw some more cash to protect him from “GOING TO JAIL ??” I didn’t. Late in the dark, we walked along the Marina Beach, a small beach on the mouth of the Mandovi river near Panji. He said “Aabeer, Tu mera sabse accha dost hai. Please aaj jo kuch bhi hua, uske baarein mein kisiko mat batana” I sympathized yet again, the worst mistake, a few days later I get complaints from a few friends that I troubled Cyrus all the day !

Since then I have not spoken to him, I have no idea where he is right now. Whether  he is enjoying the comforts of his home which he craved to return to or if he is lost again, this time for good. Years later though I do wish to meet him, to tell his grandchildren about this adventure of ours. Hay wait a minute, What if his grandchildren are just like him ?? I’d rather be content with my grandchildren!

The Beginning

The Beginning

On a laidback day when I sip cha and gaze out of the window into the vast canvas of green, grey and blue, I often walk down the memory lane and start recollecting experiences of the journeys that have undertaken in my life so far. An interesting relation between life and a voyage never fails to amaze me. Life like a voyage has a point of origin and a final destination, whatever happens between these two points are ‘experiences’. The only distinguishing factor may be that in life we don’t know where and when the final destination would arrive. So from the above analogy can’t we arrive at a hypothesis that the journeys that we undertake in our life are small units of life within a life? An interesting question for which my philosophical mind always replies in the affirmative. however I am still in the process of convincing the logical part of my cerebrum.

I am no Ian Wright, neither am I 60 years old to have ten thousand miles of travel  to my  credit, but every voyage however short or long that I have undertaken has impacted me, has created experiences which I would otherwise remained aloof from. I want to take this opportunity to share such experiences with you through my Blog. The blog will not focus much on the destinations or the attractions of a particular destination; they will rather exert their subtle influence in the backdrop. I intend the Blog to be a medium for me to share with you my encounters with the people with whom I travelled; I met during the journeys and the unexpected things that happened. What I write might have a philosophical, emotional, tragic, or even a humorous angle to it. Hence I may not use some names or change the names of a few people, organisations who may otherwise sue me for sharing these experiences especially the funny ones. From being clueless with a college outcast about which state we were actually in, to guffawing at the jokes cracked in an unknown language at my Best Friend’s wedding only to realise that the subject of the joke was me to taking my students from the slums on an educational trip, and much more coming up on this space. Our journey together in Blog space has just begun..... ‘BON VOYAGE’