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A hot-shot Travelougue to Gadiara
As a result of an emotional upheaval, I and he suddenly became too rebellious and planned for a sudden trip. Where to go? Being inured of the Bengali sensibilities we have had to return home the same day. Where to go? With his CBZ Extreme, my Nikon D3000 and our bagful of wishes to be together, we cruised.
After calling up and ousting one another from bed we started by 7 o’clock in the morning. He reminded me of Motorcycle’s Diaries. All enthralled, we saw the sun to rise, we searched for the roads, right, left, left, right; I played the navigator and him the rider. Alampur, Uluberia (uff!!! the crossing), Garchumuk; places changed, people changed, all of a sudden we found ourselves amidst a thick intriguing mist. Thick green fields both the sides of the road, the icy wind started to go down our spines, we were too mesmerized to complain.
I think it was 10 in the morning when we reached Gadiara. A vast, enormous body of water lying calm beside you that people call Rupnarayana, not beautiful, it was celestial, divine. You can hardly see the other side of the river. We rested a while, the wind whispering in our ears certain strange words, hard to understand, easy to believe. Tiny boats sailing in the water, man and wife sitting next to one another, looking for fish, I guess, their lives. Rupnarayana changes its color through the course of the day, that’s the reason it is named so.
We went on to search the watch tower that he remembered distinctly to be there and the Ganga temple (don’t go on searching for these, there’s no need to). Besides the Ganga Mandir, I found a very weird place, a place where no sound resides. Rice field stretched to horizon, he started walking on the dividers, me following him. Water bugs, here and there, a few ejaculations of some rural birds, he started explaining me their identities; I kept on listening to him.
Beside the river, we settled for a while. Unknown birds (or me and not for him) hovering over the water and the herd of goats, we were immersed in Mother Nature’s bliss. Gadiara welcomed us with all its innocence and rusticity and we will always treasure that day.
P.S: After a month or so we again went to Gadiara, it was nonetheless a celestial experience. The only souvenir that we took from the local boy who speaks in an amazing dialect is stored beside my desk, and the piece made of khejur pata rejuvenates my memory every now and then.
There are lots of eateries and hotels in Gadiara, if you want to put in for the day; the best I guess is the West Bengal tourism’s guest house. It takes 2-3 hours to drive/ride to Gadiara and it’s very hard to come back to the madding crowd and tune oneself with the fast lane, high frequency of the city hustle bustle.