Travelling Light

This time it was an aluminum ladder, aligned horizontally, along the seats of the Ahmedabad bound bus of the Gujarat State Road Transportation Corporation (GSRTC). After spending an eventful weekend at our native village, Paliyad, we were returning home. The ladder was not finding proper use in our village home and we considered to bring it back with us to Ahmedabad.  

The village bus stop is 2 kms. away from our house in Paliyad. It was past 2’ o clock in the afternoon.  The temperature soared close to 44 degrees.  My husband and daughter carried the rest of the luggage on his village bike to the bus stop.  I slung the ladder on my shoulder, covered my head with my dupatta (more to save me from the occasional stares and uncanny smiles of the villagers than to evade the raw sun) and started walking towards the bus stop.  Halfway, I got a lift on the same bike, returning after depositing the luggage and my daughter to caretake.  This time the challenge was to maneuver the ladder skillfully judging the direction of flow of the dry winds. 

Having found no seating space in the bus, my husband and I made ourselves comfortable by balancing the body weight on the narrow flat sides of the ladder, one towards each end, to create an equillibrium.  Our daughter, not caring to undergo the experience and grossly missing out on the rare prospect of developing a special skill set, had by then sweet talked with a child passenger and shared a seat.  Our son was not travelling with us.  Three hours, at a stretch, from Paliyad to Bagodara, we kept shifting our weight from one body part to the other….

Neither did the ladder squeak underneath us, nor did we prefer to de-stress it, and nor did the friendly passengers refrain themselves from directing occasional jokes at us, making us all very happy. 

However, a particular part of our body complained even much after the experience ceased to continue…..

Another feather added to our existing set of experiences of travelling home. 

The best, so far, has been travelling atop a vegetable career, covering a decent distance of 52 kms, about 5 years ago.  This time again we were returning from Paliyad at an odd hour.  This time, we were all four of us.  For the kids, it was nothing less than hiking.  For my husband, a skilled gymnast, climbing the career was hardly worth a mention.  But for me, pulling up my 77 kilos, managing to cling on to the ropes, even while the vehicle was put rolling on the roads that were impeccably marked with trenches and unexpected bumps….. the experience was  bit more than exhilarating. And I was five years younger at that time..... 

The time was 1700 hrs. & the spot where we were performing these rare tricks was adjacent to the Community Health Center (CHC).  Being employed in the State AIDS Control Programme, just a few days back I had paid the routine monitoring visit to the HIV counseling and testing room (ICTC) in the hospital.  More than the fear of falling off while climbing against the vegetables, I prayed that the counsellor appointed in the ICTC or the medical officer who was pitiably held up in the regional review meeting for ill management of the programme, do not get to see me in my choicest position.  Soon after we settled down, my husband and the kids were enthralled to travel atop amidst the winds and beneath the trees.  I tried to look happy but was more absorbed into managing the obstinate muscular cramp that had set in while climbing up the special carriage. Moreover, while passing the road the onlookers were confused at the sight of a reasonably urban looking past middle aged female riding all alone atop the vegetable sacks (the remaining family members were not visible since they stretched themselves out on the gunny bags to make the most of the ride).  I cursed myself… what if they are thinking that at this age she is running away with a vegetable seller?  Thankfully, at Dhandhuka, we alighted from the vehicle, while husband negotiated the memorable ride for Rs. 30/- in all. (!)

Being with my husband, I have now got trained to bend and arch myself in impossible angles to get into a range of vehicles.  I have learnt to squeeze in my exaggerated volume of body mass to fit miraculously in the slightest bit of space made available in the cabin of lorry drivers.

Talking while travelling is another hidden advantage.  But the range of topics can go bizarre.  Once I found a window of opportunity to discuss the issue of gender discrimination with the wide eyed truck wallahs.   The truck which we hiked was designed as per the physique of male drivers and assistants.  The pedestal positioned high up gave me a tough time to secure my foot in the groove to climb up.  But this time, I needed that extra bottom up push by the husband....sort of pelvic thrust, to pull up the heavy layers of accumulated fat.

I have also learnt to stop stereotyping and appreciate the responsibility with which the long distance lorry drivers do their jobs.  Once  the conversation went along the lines of drawing up their priorities in life, protecting themselves and their families from HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases (much to the dismay and disapproval of my husband).

 

The most hilarious rides till date however has been the roller coaster ride in the loading space of an empty truck carriage.  In Barmer, while working with SURE, the first NGO I worked with, after finishing studies, I have oft travelled with goat and hens in the local bus from Chohtan taluka place to Bijidiyar (the village where I stayed for two years) with songs like "Parwat ke peeche....Chambe Da Gaon...Gaion mein do premi rehete hain....  " blaring away in the radio....a perfect setting. Once my co-worker Sumanji and I had reached the bus stop from a village named Huron ka talla, on a camel.  Three kms. distance.  Time: past noon. Reason to travel by camel: To catch the last bus to our campus village, lest we will remain stranded in the village.

During my block placement at Poshina tribal belt in Gujarat, I have tried travelling atop jeeps..... but travelling with milk cans or buffaloes is still unexplored. I am certainly scared to try braving the rowdy Brahmaputra river of Assam....have heard about it from friends at DSSW. 

Clearly, though I opt to travel long distances by booking seats well in advance in public means of transport, travelling in other-than-routine means of transport comes with their own peculiar charm.  The only check point is that of personal safety and security, which our well developed intuitions can readily detect. So long this way of travelling does not become the accepted and routine means; I would really not mind taking another try.  How about you?  Want to join us in our next trip?