The Return...

After spending a month in Goa, returning back to Nashik wasn’t a very pleasant prospect. Not that Nashik is bad or the train journey uncomfortable. In fact, in the four years that I’ve been travelling up and down between Goa and Nashik, this is only the second time that the train (I mean the train, Mangala Express) arrived and reached the destination on time. So if anything, I ought to be happy that I didn’t have to while away precious time in a tin box in the middle of open country in the heat of summer.

The unpleasant feelings didn’t stem from there but from the self-generated thoughts of moving from freedom to restriction, importance to unimportance, power to powerlessness and responsibility to imposition. Nevertheless, what must be done must be done and so in order to answer my final exams I had to return.  

For nearly all of the month that I spent in Goa, I was tucked away in a remote village in Quepem called Sulcorna. The Salesian institute there is surrounded by very little population and more nature particularly forest. Coming away from this secluded life into the hustle and bustle of Nashik was a bit unnerving.

Travelling in and around Sulcorna was fairly safe but on coming to Nashik, five of my companions and myself were stuffed into a single autorickshaw, bags and all. Unsafe? It’s the height! (in my opinion at least). The driver paid no heed to my protests and other drivers openly refused to transport us. Left with no choice we piled in to the auto, with unwilling hearts and heavy bags. I was sitting on the edge of the driver’s seat, knees and bag outside the auto, keeping myself steady with my hands. Two bags were squeezed into the little place at the drivers feet thus leaving me no foothold. On the other side of the driver sat my companion, while the other four had to make themselves un-comfortable at the back. The distance from the station to Divyadaan is about 15-20 kilometers and it takes about 40 minutes. You can imagine our state! My hands began to ache and I would hope for a red light just so that I could steady myself and give my hands a break.

 All along the way I prayed that we would reach safe and sound. Most of the time my prayer was interrupted by the driver justifying his actions and telling me why this was the best and cheapest way to travel! I couldn’t help wondering how we were never pulled over despite crossing several junctions where police are normally found. The whole system of transport and order raised a number of questions in my mind but I knew it was of no use brooding over our state.

 After what seemed like an hour, we were dropped outside our house. I paid him quickly and thanked him with the hope he would just take off but he replied saying it was his job and that we could call him up if we ever needed to be transported. Of course none of us even bothered getting his number. I was in no mood to argue with him with regard to his ‘job’ after the ordeal and so I let the matter rest.

From my experience in Nashik, I’ve learnt that auto drivers aren’t bothered about how they transport people just as long as they get them where they want to go and make their daily buck. As I clung on for dear life in the auto, I thought about how different life is in different parts of the country. Back home in Goa, I’ve hardly travelled in an auto. Buses take you just about everywhere and except for a few routes which draw a lot of crowd, bus transport is the safest, cheapest and best.

Transport and travel have become increasingly important since the invention of the wheel and in our day and age we cannot even conceive of a world where there is no quick transport. We need to travel and move around, sometimes with luggage, at other times without it. But the watchword is and always should be: SAFETY. In India of course, safety takes on ridiculous meanings and is often reduced to superfluity. In India it seems the watchwords are: Get There Fast, No Matter How. Little surprise that we have hour-long traffic jams and vehicle queues especially during rush hours, that our road sense is poor and our zebra crossings seem to be made only for zebras (you get what I mean?). It’s true we have improved our travel systems but we haven’t improved our travel sense. So the next time you are travelling try not to think of getting there fast but of getting there safely. And don’t forget to think of others too (easier said than done especially when it’s only you who seems to be following the rule)!