Day 5: Irritation Kicks In

0400hrs in the morning, we left Yatri Nivas with a heavy heart. The bus left almost immediately and the four and half hour journey which demanded us to sit in only one position had us quite irked.

The familiar Bhuj bus stand had nothing to welcome us, the horrifying stares continued. We ignored such acts of the devil and moved to the same place where we had the tasty pooris. Intake of oil is so essential while on trips like these, especially far and wide, you see. And we decide to get fit by walking with our back packs from the bus stand to the railway station, in the hot and tearing sun. Tearing not just the clouds, but we felt like tearing our clothes too, it was that hot. We sit by a mechanic shop hoping a miracle, but, where does miracle happen nowadays?, nothing happened. So we started to walk again. And, Bhuj seems to be recovering from the quake in 2001. The buildings look new and the cracks are fewer, if not non-existent. The city buildings seemed to mock at us. Us – weary, sweaty travelers, about to complete the far part of the travel and take the wide part. The sun mocked at us. And finally, the only whole and soul, our skin mocked at us, making us sweaty like never before.

The long and a little frustrating walk comes to an end with the IAF jets flying at the railway station. No, separate it out. Jets’ flying above was the event. Railway station was the location. Our tickets said S3. I see S1, S2 and after which is S4! There’s no S3. The ticket checker is quite casual about it and I thought he was going to say “yahin thoda bahar gaya hua hogaa”. Believe me, in Bhuj, at the circumstances we were in, this was a possibility.

With things settled, a big fat Gujarati family move into our compartment. 12 seconds upon their arrival, the whole place resembles a food plate. They start munching every damn thing; the Behn-ji tho, had brought the whole kitchen. We had little option but to shake our heads.

Flies. I was controlling myself from talking about this. Bhuj is the “fly” capital of India. Especially the Bhuj – New Delhi train. In my 26 years of upbringing in a clean environment, I haven’t seen such a magnanimous number of flies per square meter. We sprayed Set Wet Zatak’s deodorant hoping that would make them go away, but the relief was only temporary. All we did was to turn away, feeling more irritated.

It may be worth mentioning a village the train passed by which was echoing our feelings. Not the villagers, but the village name itself. We were seeking an escape from the irritation endured over the whole day. The village was called Bachau.