Yeh Dil Mange More! - Amritsar - Final day

Unusual travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God. – Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

The second day of our trip ought to have been pretty relaxed one. But yeh dil mange more! The name “Nangal Dam” was etched in our minds and there was an itch to visit that dam since our Shatabdi was at 5 in the evening. Not that we did not have any alternate place to visit. There were again few temples to visit. But the question doing the rounds in our minds was that “was temple necessary?”. Bala posed to me the question and reading his mind, I gave preference to the dam. The dam was around 3 hours drive from Amritsar, around Pathankot. We would not have ventured but we had a car at our disposal. My uncle’s client readily agreed to furnish us with a car. I guess, the luck was on our side, for the time being.

We woke up around 8 and had a quick second round of Jallianwala Bagh and the Golden Temple since snap during the day-time was must. The car was to come around half past 9. We even had our breakfast. “Amritsari kulche” with slabs of yellow butter was the chosen one and we had paneer variety and other variety. Bala ordered lavishly but I was able to sense what was to come with those Kulches and amul butter. I saw Bala running out of breath for he has this aversion for butters; a kind of mental block. I ordered him to get some fresh air; he went and came back to finish those Kulches. But the butter had the better of him and soon he collapsed. He re-gained his form only after I sprinkled some holy water and patted him. The worst was over, I thought.

We hopped into the Skoda around quarter to 11 and it took us quarter past 11 to hit the so-called highway after the fuel stop. I would never call it a highway and I declared so within half an hour of the journey for the road was very narrow and was heavily trafficked. Or being in a Skoda, we were in a disadvantageous position. And the route had as many as 4 railway crossings. While bala was busy shooting the Punjab, J&K and H.P. buses, I could, from the back seat, easily gauge that the car was only doing around 50 kph and the driver had predicted a running time of around 2 hours to the dam. Bala now and then asked and tried to re-assure me that time was well in control. But the passage of time is simply an illusion created by our brains. Soon I suggested the option of “turning back” and I announced that, “we shall miss our train”. He opined that this was the age to have some thrills, “so what we miss the train”. And the car kept on moving. Apparently the driver had some contact at the dam who could show us the dam. It was only around 1:40 pm that we saw something resembling a dam. We were pretty close to the Jammu border. Bala was excited and wished we could touch the border. I had other agenda on my mind; to catch the train. It was no dam but only “sluice gates” or ‘barrage’ which, is quite near to my home over Hindon Canal. On enquiry, we came to know that the actual dam on river raavi was still 20 km away. It was impossible to reach the dam. We had set a deadline of 2 pm to start. Having some time at our hands, we landed to see the river raavi flow nearby and happily clicked some shots and even had sugarcane juice.

I was more or less relaxed for I had made my mind to catch the alternate train. We had three hours to catch our train. But who knew that a Sikh procession at bhatala would force us to make a de-tour and that a train would bother us at all the four railway crossings. Bala’s face was all drained and colorless. The driver was unable to accelerate the big car to the hilt for there was no road. At five, we were some 10 kms away from the station. And the driver decided to take the car to the factory where its owner was waiting. Bala, till date, is of the opinion that “we could have still tried”. It was like Dharmendra trying to catch the burning train; he did for he was on bike but we failed. We went to the station hoping some miracle. The first platform was empty. Bala got the tickets to Delhi and we were to board a night train. I was only worried about breaking the news to folks at home. It was our first solo travel sans the family and here was the result. Bala had trotted the globe on his own but it was our first joint venture. Somehow I communicated the news, which was received with mild rebuke. It was a train to Bihar and we were able to get two seats given the power of money and amenable nature of man. I ensured that bala retained the seat till Delhi and had a sound sleep for he was to catch the 6 am flight to Bombay. I had a good sleep for 3 hours. The train was jam packed being a train to east side. People lay everywhere, huddled and shivering in the cold. Bala, on the previous day, was all eager to have the lunch in Shatabdi and I had told him that we would be having it while returning. And we only had some rotis and sabji sans paneer and ice-cream.

The train was on time and we were out by half past 4. But ‘delay’ hit us back with vengeance. His car driver screwed up and he eventually landed around quarter past 15. By that time, Bala had to re-schedule his flight and he pounced on the driver who came up with all sundry excuses.

In the end, the dammed dam did us. And we still laugh seeing those pictures of the barrage and at our folly. Someone has rightly said, “experience is retrospect knowledge”.