The Traveler

This new one talks and describes of a traveller through my eyes.



It all started with an idea, an idea that would transport a very average human on an almost-monumental trip. The idea was formulated by that human himself, but then, like most things big, it is questioned, not only by peers around him, but also by people who would normally otherwise believe in him. How the hell are you going to do this trip? Alone? Oh god, thats......remarkable. Won't you feel lonely at all? I'd never do this alone man. Doubts appeared from every other corner, from every other person's intricate little minds, from every single one who would imagine themselves in this person's situation. It would still not shake him, and finally, it pulled through. He would have his way, a way of relative stubbornness, of an unshakeable mind to his own.


An idea always has a beginning, a first step toward its execution. The execution, now without doubt, started with research on http://www.indianrail.gov.in/. A day later, he, who from now will be referred to as Steve, went to the Bangalore Cantonment Railway Station, to book his means of traveling the distance that he planned to. Half and hour and a few thousand rupees later, he walked out of the colonial era building, with four printed pieces of paper in his pocket. The railways were always respected, and loved, by Steve. As far as he could help it, he would try to travel by rail, and this wasn't too different. His "monumental" trip, though, would not be completely covered by means of the Indian Railways, but also by other means, especially to places where connectivity of this government body, that had a separate budget of its own in the nation, was low. And he realised, sooner than later, that the first leg of his trip would have to be completed by means other than by rail.


His home was Bangalore, or Bengaluru, a city that had a reputation of growing faster than rabbits could reproduce. It was the capital of the state of Karnataka, the land of the Kannadigas, a people who, fortunately or unfortunately, accepted the "outsiders" - the other people of India. The state ran both of the only two profit making government road transport services in all of India, one, the KSRTC, and the other, Bangalore's local bus service. Anyway, Steve knew that the only "decent" way to get to the franco-tamil town of Pondicherry (or Puduchcherry) was by means of the KSRTC. He always offered open invitations to other people who wanted to join him, and this time, there were two other people who would. So he went, to one of several KSRTC ticket-booking centres in the city, and booked three tickets on the luxury bus service called the Airavath, considering that the roads to Puduchcherry were terrible; the Airavath line of buses were manufactured by Volvo. So it was set, the date that his travels would start was 18 Dec 2007.


18th Dec, 2007, 2200hrs : Steve, and two others, arrived and waited at the City's main bus terminus, the Kempe Gowda Bus Stand. It would be another half an hour before the bus was scheduled to arrive, so they walked into the cafe nearby. Things in India normally had the reputation of doing everything late, though it did not make such a big difference, the bus did arrive ten minutes late. Their luggage was put into the baggage hold of the Volvo, and the space was large enough to carry two full jacuzzis, and got into their seats. Steve had traveled in these services before, and so did one of his accompanists, but not the last one, and so, save the last, they were not surprised that the government run service gave them a blanket and water bottle. The bus left, ten minutes later (twenty minutes from its actual departure time), and began its seven hour journey toward the franco-tamil town. The ride, as expected, was rough.


The next morning, Steve woke up, still shaking from the vibrations, to realise that it was raining outside, and quite heavily. His large glass window had water flowing down its side, like as though it was designed to be a water fountain. It was five o'clock, as communicated to him by his watch. The rain was unexpected when he finalised the date to Puduchcherry, but just a day earlier there was a sudden depression over the Bay of Bengal that exposed the eastern coast to some heavy showers, which Steve was not prepared for. The bus reached Puduchcherry Bus Stand about an hour later, and the rain had let up for a few minutes as though welcoming the three to the former french colony. Steve knew very little tamil, but knew enough that he wouldn't get fleeced by the auto drivers there. He wanted to head to Rock Beach, where a certain Ajanta Guest House was located, where he'd lodged before and knew was a great place for the facilities and the money. Steve and his two travel mates got into an auto, with their baggage - they could just manage to fit in. Unfortunate for the three, the guest house was still not open (it was 6AM), and so they had to find a different place to stay. His limited knowledge of tamil got the driver to look around for any place that would lodge them, and three-four closed gates later, they landed near a building with a rusting sign board that read Sri Krishna Guest House, which for 700 rupees gave a tiny tacky four-bed room. It was obviously far from ideal, but it had to do, just for the next ten hours, as decided by Steve. They slept, for four hours more, except Steve, who woke up at 9 to hire two wheelers to get around. He got a deal for 80 rupees per day per vehicle, and he took two. It would be 12.30PM before they were all ready to leave anywhere. They didn't have much luck with the rain either.


Since it was about lunch time, Steve decided to go toward Rock Beach again, where a restaurant called La Terasse was located. Steve rode one of the vehicles while the other was ridden by the better skilled rider of the remaining two. He had had a meal or two there before, and he found their food to be some of the best he had had for a long time. The day of Wednesday didn't seem to be very friendly with Steve, for it was raining, as hard as ever, and the restaurant had a large "CLOSED" sign at its gate (which he'd later learn that the place is closed on wednesdays). So he and the women went to a pizzeria called just "Pizzeria", and when they were done, though the cheque pushed them back 600 rupees poorer for just two pizzas and some beverages, they were satisfied that those were the best pizzas they'd had in their lives.

The afternoon went to walking around what was locally called Rock Beach, where a rock curb was created along the coast, probably dating back to the french times, for many franco inspired decorations donned the buildings there. It was a beautiful stretch to walk on. They felt a peace in the midst of the many poeple that were already there, a peace that they could possible not find anywhere else anytime soon. The latter portion of the day they spent was back at the dingy lodge. Steve, as planned, got themselves lodged at where he initially (at Ajanta Guest House) wanted to, by early evening. The deal for Rs.900 a night got them a nicely furnished four bed, with running hot water, in addition to air conditioning. And as he'd realized even before arriving at Puduchcherry, alcohol was not taxed and shared the distinction of being sold at the lowest price in the nation. So, as would've been expected by anyone their age, the night was spent with a good movie, good company, room service and alcohol.

Alcohol has the effect of making one sleep in. It was 10 before first of them awoke, Steve, along with a painful hangover. Women, as Steve realized only lately, spent too much time at anything that they believed would by anyway make their appearance relatively better, whether it was an outfit change, or a makeup stint, or even the simple activity of tying hair in a certain way. They were ready to leave only at 1, and they did, finally, toward La Terasse. The food there, as promised by Steve, was exquisite. Steve had fish while the other two stuck to pizzas and pancakes. A good hour later, they were done. They later moved toward Auro Beach, and again, Steve's ten-percent knowledge of tamil helped them get there. Steve describes the beach as - "beautiful, unspoiled, but beginning to get filled by unruly behaviour", and that was what it exactly was. The area was clean, with hardly a presence of any manmade material, and the only reason that turned them off was the unruly male 'horny' crowd. Two hours of the beach did not seem enough for them, they wanted to stay more, but the situation didn't allow them to. So they left, back again, toward the lodge. It was 5PM now. While one of them napped, Steve and the other watched a movie. The latter part of the evening was spent at "Pizzeria" again. This evening, however, Steve decided to stay away from alcohol. Another good movie later, they slept.

The third day was no different from the second in the fact that they'd slept in, again, and the women took equally long (if not longer) to get ready. It almost seemed as though La Terasse and Pizzeria were the only places that would satisfy their appetites, for again, they went to La Terrasse for lunch. A good meal later they left to Auroville, the place of humanity. Just before they got there, Steve and the others stopped at stores that sold textile articles that they'd not find for the price in a thousand kilometre radius. As unlikely as it seemed, Steve was the biggest shopper of them all, spending a whole six hundred rupees on kurtas, while the others spent lesser than half of how much he did, put together, though one of the women did spend a bigger amount on one single skirt much later. So they moved on now, to Auroville. Steve could remember quite clearly, the last time he was there, because a couple of white women "adam-teased" him, while he was looking around for what was called the solar kitchen - it didn't affect him, it was more of a compliment, but what was glaring was the fact that there was a part of the female population in the world that DID indulge in such activities, considering he assumed the activity was exclusive to males. Anyway, when they did reach Auroville's Visitor's Centre, they realized that the president was to arrive the next day, to visit Auroville, and that explained the tight security arrangements, which meant that some places in Auroville were off limits to them, including the solar kitchen. Steve told the others about the visitor's centre that had a very good bakery, about the good food there. And good it was. A caramel custard, a brownie and a lemon pie later they left for the Mantrimandir, the centre of Auroville. It was a spherical temple that represented humanity, and for anyone to live in Auroville as a permanent resident would mean renunciation of religion. The temple was clad with gold plated plates, and was a structure that awed Steve only the first time he was there. The awe stuck to the women only, and pretty soon, they had to leave Auroville. They didn't leave in a hurry, probably because it was their last day there, but it could've been that they were tired from two and a half days of freedom too.

They rode back to the two wheeler rent shop to return the scooters to their owner. Anyone would think that the Puduchcherry episode was coming to an end, but no - one of the women HAD to stop by a clothing store and buy a skirt that gave shivers down Steve's spine - a skirt for an amount that Steve would never spend on for just one piece of clothing. "You had to live up to a girl's name" Steve recalled saying to her. They then returned to their guest house, and did their business to get ready to leave for home. Steve's mission was to check out by 7PM, so that they didn't have to pay for an extra day, and thats what they did. The hotel manager was friendly enough to let them leave their luggage there for the next two hours so they didn't have to lug them around. Another dinner at La Terasse and a "last" walk at Rock Beach later, they were back at Puduchcherry bus stand. The Airavath back to Bangalore was not late, and the crew managed to get every passenger seated and ready to leave in less then ten minutes.

The bus ride back was bumpy, but not as much as it was on its way there. The driver was what could be called special, or rash, depending on point of view, for he managed to get them back to Bangalore by 5AM, while the scheduled arrival was 6AM. The trip was special for Steve, not only because he was able to embark on the first leg of his monumental trip, but also because he had woven the friendships he already had with stronger threads, stronger bonds. Steve admitted he had fun, though he also disliked one small part of while he was at Puduchcherry, and that was that he thought he went there like he was on holiday; he'd have rather thought he was travelling. He never regretted what he did, so, quickly, he dismissed that as soon as it came into his head. Steve promised that he would write about Puduchcherry,and he wouldn't get too far the first time. Pretty soon, he would forget the "miss-you" feeling he had for the sea town, and get on with looking forward to going to where he'd go next, Udagamandalam, or the anglo version, Ootacamund (Ooty).