Adventures down south of India...

Starting!

"Jabberjabberjabberyjabjabberjabberjabber seat kodi jabberjabberjabber gotilla jabberjabberjabber yakade hogbeku?jabber..."
Heavens, he's finally cracked! Scribbling nonsense after such a long hiatus! Surely, he's gone totally insane! Right...?

If that's what comes to your mind my dear reader, then you're totally mistaken! I lost my bearings in the worldly sense of it a loong time ago, and the jabber jabber above is what i could comprehend of a foreign tongue spoken in the southern half of India just above the state my ancestors came from, Karnataka.

A note of warning to my Kannada readers, this is in no way an insult to Kannada or Karnataka in any way, i'm just expressing my inability to comprehend your lingo! And why in God's name am i expressing this disability o' mine? Well, the story unfolds ahead. Patience my love, i'll come to the point :)

The flurry of words i tried to describe in writing were exchanged in a train headed toward Kannur, Kerala passing via Mangalore and briefly halting at a nondescript rural station named Sakleshpur.

It all started a long time in advance back here in Bom Bahia. I was having a lot of time to kill post exam and i had to go kill stress the way i knew best, which is dive headfirst into an adventure! Initially, three plans were charted, each in a different direction. These were Nainital, Little Rann of Kutch and Bangalore.

Well, the occupation hazard in adventure planning is called lack of time, and this can be detrimental if you're headed in a team. My team mates had free time when i was busy and likewise. So? Strike out plan 1 and 2. Time to pack the backpack and head south to Bangalore. I heard there was a lot of wildlife down south and easily accessible with friendly folks who'd take me there. Sounds good na? Read on lovebun...

i forget the number of people i contacted or the number of websites i checked where people said they were free to guide helpless souls like across the southern wilderness. I called, i mailed and God alone knows what else, but to no avail. You know Fate gives you a clean road to run wild but shackles you down with something or the other, well that's what happened. None of these fine gentlemen, and women could spare time during my free time for one reason or the other. Heck, people have work even if i'm free. But they did give me a list o' places i could check out in my free time. Fair 'nuff i guess, i'll get going then. Due to logistical reasons, i could not visit very many places because i was travelling alone and it could cost a bomb travelling single. Rule out these places then, what else?

And then, there was an email from a doctor writing from a really remote place. He had a coffee estate in the Western Ghats, and he had room free for adventurers interested in wildlife. Western Ghats? Read scores of birdlife, elephants, tigers et cetera, et cetera...
Good 'nuff for me, i'm going there! Yeee haaaa!

And so we set off. Off to Bangalore...

Westward Ho!

Here were are in Bangalore and all set to pack off to the Western Ghats. In the meanwhile, two members have joined in our team, and one fellow had to drop out due to sheer bad luck, actually a bad tummy which leaves us with two members in all...

I started two hours in advance for the train, and it was a good thing i did so. Traffic in Bangalore city can be a killer, and it was the Christmas weekend. There would be lots of people like me afoot, awheel, awing or whatever you call it! The ATMs were chock full, and i managed to pull out some greens for the just in case situation.
"Whether or not you know the local lingo, the image of Gandhi on a piece of paper with a numeric notation can make tongues wag and limbs move favourably for you..."
I got a ticket in the general class, read third class with good reason. It would be sheer stupidity to try to even request a reservation on a holiday weekend. Duh, i'm not the only one travelling, and not the only one endowed with numerous Gandhi papers, so...

Whatever, i reached the station and was patiently waiting for the train to arrive. Dressed every bit like a gentleman, whether or not i am one, it was painful to ask fellow travellers the direction to the general class's location. Two beautiful Coorgi belles and their mother were the first people i questioned, but definitely not about the 'general class'! "Ma'am, can you please tell me is this the platform where the Kannur Express's expected?" was my crisp question to the mother in the same lingo that this story's being written in!

The mother politely replied with a smile she didn't know either but would let me know soon enough. "Hell, why didn't i have a reservation. This was such a good ice-breaker! Imagine the company of beautiful belles for a delightful evening's..."

"Heck, return to reality brother! You're travelling third class, and they're probably going by AC! Don't you even dream of it!" screamed that voice from within, and with good reason. The third class would already be packed on the platform, and the only reservation here was for the strong and the loud.

The mother returned with an affirmative answer. She seemed eager to further the conversation, but good sense prevailed, and with a heavy heart, i fastened my backpack's waist strap, tightened the shoulder straps, and walked off briskly. Never did i see those belles again. I recollect the mother saying they were getting off at Sakleshpur, or maybe i was just fantasizing!

And now, we fast forward o'er the useless, idle waiting period right into the heart of the action. The train arrives, and it was packed already. Fuck, i thought it started from here! Whatever, plunge in what else! Tangled in a mesh of strolleys, carry bags, suitcases and long hair. Oh yes, a woman who didn't know what the 'eck was she doing. Kicks and swears were gifted to all and sundry with the Yuletide spirit in the attempt to barge into that narrow opening, and gain a small footing atleast. The local yokels had never seen a backpacker or a backpack before, so a lot of colourful words discussing the attributes of my bag and my ancestors were hotly exchanged. But then remember, i'm blissfully unaware of the meaning of the words, and even if i knew, i couldn't care. I was in the fucking train man!

Alls well now, the hatchets buried and a solemn silence was maintained for a while. And then the jabber began slowly at once, and then catching up with everyone. We're travelling to a rural place in Karnataka, and to expect them to respond in English is... you get the point right? Forget Hindi, these people couldn't speak Tamil which was spoken or atleast understood by atleast someone. Thank Heavens for my Keralite ancestry and a few pithy words in Mallu for there were two Keralite sailors on board too! I could have a piecemeal conversation with them hoping that they would spare some small mercies for me if they could!

Enter Mandya, and two colourful gentlemen entered alongwith a swarm of nondescript rurals. Read on ahead for what made them colourful.

From India to Bharat!

It was a bitterly cold evening, and it was an hour short to chime midnight. Our colourful friends had been colourful for a while but smelt not so great. Blame it on the local liquor!

The first fellow was an elderly yokel. He was silent initially as he fumbled and pushed his way into the space between two sleepers. And then the colours began to unfold slowly. He started mumbling something which then began to rise in tempo. I was totally clueless to what was happening because the lingo was incomprehensible, but my mallu friends understood and spoke Kannada. In the meanwhile, this yokel was now creating a ruckus, and that too when i was just becoming comfortable enough to sleep standing!

I too belted out a loud "FUCK OFF!" in English of course hoping the cacophony would die down. But the locals merely glanced at me, and got back to their jabberjabber!

The mallu (i forget his name, but he was a helpful chappie) in the meanwhile translated this philosophical dialogue invoking both Heaven, Hell and everything in between. Apparently, the old timer wanted a seat, and was using his old age as proof of his weakness begging and later badgering people into offering him some space to rest his 'tashreef'or arse as we know it! And the seated yokels were no kindly folk either. They said we fought over this place and won ourselves some place to sleep, and we're not entertaining drunks like you. So, get lost...

Surely, the lack of understanding of English and the exchange of colourful words in Kannada meant my exclamation simply glanced off the yokels like water off a duck's back with little or no effect.

But this 'spirited' gent was a winner, and he proved his mettle. He kept his ruckus going on until one fellow just tired of hearing his sozzled voice crammed himself into his neighbour so as to offer a slight bit of seat space. The old man was triumphant! His 'Seat Kodi' war cry had won him his prize! 'Seat Kodi' means 'give me a seat' as i learnt later.

Coming to the other 'spirited' fellow, this man was standing just next to me. He wore a towel across his shoulders as natives in South India are wont to. He made himself comfortable in the space i was standing in, next to a seat by a clever shove which could be deemed 'accidental'. The bugger had brains, it was clear...

Without the slightest compunction, he asked the poor guy sleeping on the seat "Are you getting off at Mysore?". Of course, the medium of exchange remains Kannada. The fellow was really irritated, but he merely snapped back "Illa!" which means no, nein, niente, nyet, na...

Being defeated by a glancing blow, he tried to laugh it off and looked at me expecting me to smile. He had his towel now between his teeth, and he surely looked uglier than he ever was. I would've loved to give him a good sock in the eye which would've made him sing, but this was his turf, his land. So, an icy look was all i could afford :(

Quietly, he turned back and kept looking longingly at the seat he'd never get.

The train journey was of five hours for me, and interestingly nearly 4.5 hours were replete with some incident or the other.

The next in tow was another elderly gent, and this guy looked like a school headmaster or something, or atleast a literate person. He was seated on the sleeper above, and suddenly he got off his seat. Jumping with joy, i threw my backpack over, and his neighbour, a guy who looked like a Kashmiri placed it squarely where this fellow was seated, blocking it for me. And that's when the old timer reappeared! Spiritedly, but not in 'spirits', he climbed up the ladder again back into his seat, with angry words like "Who the fcuk told you to give off my seat...?" to the 'Kashmiri'. The poor guy and i pitched in saying, you got off with your stuff, so...
Readers please understand everyone here speaks only Kannada except for me!

He was pissed off with the 'Kashmiri', and kept muttering something or the other in Kannada. Interestingly, our Kashmiri too replied in the same lingo.

The next show up in tow was a Hindi guy sleeping on the luggage rafters. He had stretched himself across the rafter rendering it useless as luggage space. As station passed station and the crowd kept increasing, people began to grumble about his abuse of space. The grumble at first raised by one man became a rumble kept up by nearly 30-40 souls. God, it was his worst nightmare for sure! It started raining bags on him, and he had to fight 'em off. Like me, he too was impaired in his lingo skills when it came to Kannada. "Arre, main so raha hoon na?" But the crowd neither understood nor wanted to understand him.

He had a blanket on him which was trailing off his reclining form. That was the butt of jokes for the moment. Some mischief monger or the other kept tugging it off him until he wrapped himself more securely than a mummy. That's when the crowd went up in a cheer loud enough to wake up those asleep. The Hindi walla was routed, and luggage was now thrown on the rafters upon him, without any noises on his part!

It was close to 1:00 am when an unfortunate bloke got off his 'secure' perch on a suitcase maybe to stretch his legs, and gave me a chance to render him seatless! The moment my tashreef encountered support, my eyelids closed and opened only at 02:15 am at Haasan, one stop before Sakleshpur, my destination in the Western Ghats.

The remaining 45 minutes i was awake for fear of missing my stopping, but Fate was kind to me and at 03:00 am, i reached a cold, foggy Sakleshpur to find my friend freezing in the cold, and our jeep driver waiting to drive us to the coffee estate where our warm beds and a good friend were waiting for us :)