As the car inched slowly to a halt after a treacherous climb uphill, I was suddenly transposed to a world which I had only read about but never thought existed. The hills were not exactly as quiet as we perceive them to be, the melodic calls of the papiya, the crickets and the thousands of tiny insects create and unorganized symphony of sounds.
I slowly shut my book remembring the page number as I did. Ruskin Bond had written time stood still in Shamli but had he been here he would've been assured time stops forever in the forest. There was no old innkeeper to welcome me but a modern more versatile page boy with a welcome drink and a hot towel. Was this the forest I saw outside or was it just a facade? Where was the dreary old innkeeper? where was the old oakwood desk with tired old frames of gods and the dead hanging over it? Who took away the old?
Time has surely made some mark here, for we have modern plumbing and plush furniture but yes like in hills we still have no electricity except for the generators in the evenings. The water is still heated on firewood but the food is made on modern gas stoves with fat LPG cylinders.
I make my way out to the balcony to be welcomed by a tiny kid who runs into me with a Tinkle comic. Tinkle my old friend who accompanied me in many train rides and even more summer vacations, whom I have not seen in ages suddenly falls in front of me. She is reading shikari shambu my old wise yet dimwitted friend. The girl picks up the book and rushes back to her mother who seems bored beyond her imagination. She misses her daily soaps I think but then I see her looking longingly at her husband who is engrossed in his iPad, technology has kept his love away from her even in a remote forest. I sit besides her and try to read my novel again but can hardly concentrate, the mountains are calling me or probably I am just tired.
I get up and look around and slowly walk back in, I had never been the sorts to strike up random conversations with strangers except when fueled with the desire to be prudish and knowledgeable. I heard the voice of the owner asking the staff to clean up the room next to mine as another "party" as she called was about to arrive. She gave me a smile as I walked past her towards my room.
The room smelled of jasmine and I checked my luggage to ensure they had brought everything up to the room. I took out my old sweater and put it over my t-shirt. The hills were getting colder and the Delhi heat in me had quickly cooled down.
I settled down outside on the ledge and had my first cigarette of the day and then I heard the familiar voice of someone who I had erased from my memory long ago. Someone I wish I had never known yet sometimes thank my stars for get me acquainted.
My thoughts were broken by a muffled sound saying, "Hey! got a light, I am from the room next to yours". Before I could respond her hand came across and she shouted "Pakdo, I might slip". It was her for sure but was I ready to hold that hand again, but the fear of her falling down was more real so I grabbed her hand. She came to my side of the ledge quite swiftly and upon looking at me she almost fell, thankfully she did not let go of my hand. I hesitantly gave her my lighter she lit her black clove cigarette and soon I was taken back by 7 years when she first lit this obnoxious cigarette in front of me.
She said nothing and only looked at me, my hairline had thinned a bit and I hadn't shaved in a couple of days but rest of me was the same. Sure I was now an out of work MBA but she could not tell that. She still looked the same, but her long locks were gone and a new more professional hair cut had replaced it, her dark kohl lined eyes were now bare and she wore thin rimmed glasses. The goth thumb ring was gone and she now wore a simple diamond studded ring and her flashy loop earrings were now replaced by a more sober gold stud.
"So will you stay a mute till I leave or are you thinking of those one liners you always use?", she said cutting the silence. "Well, I was going to say hello but the smell of cloves choked me." I retorted, "Yes, you still can't bear the smell of my cigarettes, want coffee?", she said. "Yes", I said. "Great! please get me one too, are you here all alone or am I barging into your honeymoon?" she said mockingly. "Well I am here alone on a mini break to get away from the city lights." I responded adjusting my glasses to look more professional. "Oh! so you are the guy who got a entire peti of J&B, the weird hair lady has told everyone it seems." she said.
"Its not an entire peti, just a 3-4 bottles in that case rest are my books." I said feeling quiet annoyed at the owner's audacity. I wasn't an alcoholic but did think it was wise to stock up for a place 150 kilometers away from the nearest known town.
"So what about you, what brings you here to the hils, honeymoon?", I tried to sound funny. "I am here with my best friend and we plan to stay here a week and just drink, so you are in luck we will give you company", she said.
7 years had passed since we last spoke and it felt as if it was only yesterday that we were sitting next to each other on the long table at our coaching institute and debating on the legality of cannabis.