Days dawn as if the future is decided in a day’s time. Decisions are so fast that we know not where we have to travel the next day. Electronic-tickets or e-tickets as we say have helped me immensely in this ‘quick style’ life. The same happened on 17th October 06 when I was directed to Bhavnagar for a ship inspection.
And the 1st surprise was when I saw a person holding “Alcock Ashdown shipyard welcomes Rejil” and a thought went through my mind “am I really so big a person!!!” then slowly I told my mind to be quiet and this placard is just to identify you and not because you are important, but again I was stumped when it dawned to me that my accommodation was arranged in a 3 star heritage hotel -Neelambaug. The palatial hotel swathed me the ambience of my ancestral house with the Naalukettu (quadrangular buildings with open courtyards), the walls displaying pictures of the Gujarati culture in the Dress and jewellery. Also hung on the walls were their rich culture in art and tradition. After my shower, the waiting safari took us on the three-hour drive in my itinerary. And where were we heading?
To a place called Chanch, a name derived from the Hindi word chonch meaning beak. Yes, just have a look at the map and u will know that Gujarat somewhere resembles a beak. My eyes spotted the lone temple on a mountain, was the Palitana Jain temple, as explained by Mr. Rajguru, our guide cum quality inspector.
As my vehicle swished past a cart, I noticed a peculiarity. Neither an Ox nor a cow drove the carts. It was indeed towed by a camel. And the surprise was short lived, as it became a common sight. The garlic, onion and cotton crops lined the road like soldiers guarding the border, not to forget the dehydration plants for the onions. A small halt at Mahuva quenched my thirst with the honey sweet tender coconut.
On our way my mind longed to experience the drive in the chakda, the always-overloaded Enfield remodeled auto rickshaw, flouting all the rules in carrying passengers, but poor my prestige never allowed me to.
The environment went on to be rustic and the earth chocolaty as we drove on. Greenery was some lone Neem gardens and the fodder producing thorny bunchy shrubs. As our automobile turned to the dust spooking roads, we enquired the shepherd for any nearby tea stall, and you know what, he wasn’t grazing goats. It was all sheep.
Surprises awaited me again at the mud house shop, in the form of PEPSI as I was amazed by the market penetration. PEPSI where people lived in countable.
But the rusted road signs took us forward. No life moved on either side. Square salt farms spread to the entirety divided by mud bunds, but never did Gujarat miss its true saffron color. The triangular flags fluttered at every flagpost.
A matter of true appreciation was for the water pipelines at every village.
And then the work started, but I was truly waiting for the mouth-watering dishes made my Rajgurus mom, and so was it different because it was tastier than ever thought of by my taste buds. The Thepla was a speciality, a dish prepared in Methi leaf. As I got into my Qualis to enjoy a movie, the shrill cry of a bird requested my attention, wow my goodness – a peacock and later on more of it. Surprise that a place devoid of anything lively had such a beautiful bird to entertain, and people considered it god for being the vehicle of Kartik Swamy or as we call him in southern India as Murugan/subramanian.
Still as dusk came setting in, the sun started its way back to its mom’s place, leaving all the ships orphaned in the horizon. The red hue always changed to a mix of orange crimson and vanished for pitch darkness to rule the roost.
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