Vasu Reddy From Chicago
In many years since
I came back to my native place, Proddatur. Close to twenty. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proddatur. It is still quite a travel from the nearest
airport. It is an all night trip by bus,
train or car from Hyderabad, Bangalore or Chennai. I have always been an excellent
traveler. No amount of time spent on a
plane, car or a bus makes me tired but for the waiting time to the
destination. My impatience comes from
waiting in between. It has always been
something I did not like is to wait.
Just have to get from here to there, and as fast as it is possible. Sleeping the entire way, anywhere anytime and
being hungry on time and the favorite pastime of coffee drinking anytime and
anywhere, all go along with traveling well.
Not much has changed in the way we travel from the city to my
town. For more than two generations to
date the routes, the roads, and definitely the travelers remain the same,
despite the multiples in increase in travel.
The infrastructure remains the same, and in reality the so called development
really is neither adequate nor has kept up with the demand. The only thing that has multiplied is the
cost. The rains this season have been incessant
and in reality a fantastic monsoon season for the next agricultural cycle. With the constant downpours, the entire state
is waterlogged (no change in water management except what the politicians say
as progress, but zero progress on this front) while providing much needed
relief from heat and dust. As people and
the government don’t do anything about cleaning, the down pours also act as washing
machines for the entire state, at least when the rain pours. I still reminisce on the happiness rainy
season brought to us as kids, which was a fantastic part of the Indian summers
(all year long).
The buses are now available, and some even have beds (very small
but utilitarian) and you can sleep your way to your destination. Luckily no one was on their mobile phones on
the bus I traveled. For me the travel
part did not matter to me as I just slept thru, except for an out door bathroom
break in rain. We had a relatively clean
cabin when got in on the bus, although there no place to sit, there were only
four beds in each cabin. The Lenin was
fresh including the pillow cover. I
believe there were 9 cabins with 4 berths in each cabin.
The last time I traveled home to Proddatur was a forgettable and
unplanned trip, but the latest one was fairly accommodating and the mode of
transport much more comfortable. On both
ends at Hyderabad
and at Proddatur, I had the pleasure of best friends Prabhakar and Satyam, send
and receive me. While Prabhakar waited
for the bus to get off in Hyderabad,
Satyam’s voice woke me up in Proddatur.
Outside of sleeping all thru the trip, and constant rain, the only
forgettable tidbit for the night was when the bus stopped in the middle of the
road near a tea stall, the guy yelling thru the bus to get down and relieve
yourself. I had to just like all the
other guys in a line into the rain, and I am 100% sure that each of the guys
were feeling exactly like I did, pure bliss.
My guilt was short lived when I saw myself (and all the guys from the
bus) at least find a way to make the call of nature, but the women had no such
chance. Nothing has changed; no one
cares, and probably never will. (My
following Indian politics and Modi’s pronouncements all over the world,
reminded me that every one with a mike can make speeches, but no one can really
do anything. The message to Modi will
come shortly and will not leave any detail behind on crap that is fed to the
people). In the nation which had a
female prime minister in the 1970’s and uses Bharat Mata as the name of its
nation, this place is not even in the same ball park to either be clean nor
have any respect for women, in fact for anything. I some times doubt of people had any
self-respect. My India has gone
to dogs and we probably need divine intervention to knock some civic sense.
There is some improvement in communications as phones work with
constant yelling, and internet spotty, but reservations seem to work. Satyam sent us a text with my bus ticket; it
did provide details, and a contact person and number, which worked. I don’t give much credit for the telecom
infrastructure as I did work on this in the early 1990’s, and the current state
of the network today is no where near it should be, except for the number of
users. In reality my experience for the
week has been that it is a crappy network.
Yet again, what else you expect if the nation spends more money on
graft.
Going back to the trip, Prabhakar had a big bottle of water along
with my e-ticket, and I slept all my way, except for the nature’s call on the
road in pouring rain. I thought the rain
was absolving my guilt on unabashed behavior.
The wonderful and the most thoughtful gesture of brotherhood from
best friends provided comfort of being alone and venturing the bus travel. All through the travel, sleep took away my
anxiety of the time away from my native place.
Very little time was left to think about where to get off, how to get
home, and will I know how and where. But
travel was never an adventure for me, but this trip had some anxiety. As always sleep was comforting until I heard
Satyam’s voice calling my name out and looking for me. One of the most comforting feelings to hear a
familiar voice before you even your friend is in sight. Nothing has changed,
again here; neither the voice nor the person, along with the reception in
person. Friends forever, and nothing
changes.
That’s where my familiarity stopped. I would not want to claim my old town was a
clean place when I left, but the shock of what I saw was immediate. I did not recognize the place, and not for
better. This place has been trashed and
abused. I though I was seeing a child
with 100% neglect. Once again Modi’s
pronouncements on clean India,
either has not been embraced by the people of my town or they have completely
lost cognizance of cleanliness. No
matter what this my town and this is where we roamed freely (walked mostly) and
spent our formative years.
Satyam sounds and looks the same, and more than anything else he
is the same as when I last saw him.
That’s what makes me happy instantly, and comforted. Whatever started with seeing Prabhakar
outside the Shamshabad airport as we walked out, which was also in just a few
minutes with a very pleasant immigration officer, and no hassle luggage or
customs. Along with my wife’s father who
had traveled far to get us with a lot of snacks (which could last the entire
trip), Prabhu was also reassuring to see, as we were going to our respective
native places. Satyam’s familiar voice
and his leading me back to my mother was best possible way to get to see her.
Immediately after you get off the bus, you can’t miss the abuse
bestowed on the town. No where I could
recognize the town we left behind. Sadness
creeps in as you see street after street in disarray and trashed. There was not a single building that looked
well kept, not a single street free of trash, except the rains has really fed
the trees and made the air less hostile.
I kept wondering, where was my home?
Even as the auto stopped in front of my home, I did not recognize
it. Despite a best friend, and his
voice, this was an unfamiliar town.
While Satyam rode his scooter, the auto with me a couple of bags
followed him. My own best friend service
the purpose of GPS in my own un-familiar town.
This place is unrecognizable, not a home, road, turn nor even
familiar silence in my colony. I had to
look at my home twice after we stopped in front of it. The funny thing is I did not walk into my own
home, but exactly opposite into the apartment complex opposite to it where my
mom lived. All of a sudden I felt tired,
and was in disbelief. The transformation
is more shocking than that I walk right in front of my own home into an apartment
to see my Mom, which perhaps was the single most important part of the journey.
Satyam walked with me to the door, and left me with my mom when
she opened the door. Once again a
gesture of a great friend to allow me to embrace my frail mother without even
my best friend. After all this is my
town, and my home is where my mother is.
My mind was no longer pondering on how people have abused my town, and
all of a sudden it did not matter. The
long wait to get here, the sickness and years of rehab to regain the mind and
body, the stress of the Indian bureaucracy, travel along with a bit of fatigue;
none of it mattered. You have your best
friends get you on the bus, and one to get you off it and here is mom. What else would anyone would want to ask for?
No comments:
Post a Comment