The bags were packed. All the potted
plants kept in a shady part of the kitchen where they were spared from the
scorching sun for two days. Anika’s favourite, the Karela plant, had to be left
outside – there was no other go as the vine had intertwined with the grill
outside the window. Anika was back from
school and was fed her lunch in a jiffy.
Now it was time to have her anti-nausea medicine, just in case. She resisted
and started building a big case against it and I decided to let it go. ‘’Please
don’t forget to carry Neil ‘’ I shouted, more at myself than at the rest. My
worst nightmare is that I will forget a sleeping child at home – like in the
movie ‘Home Alone’. We were all set.
We were in the car finally and
Anika was waving goodbye to the two ‘didis’.
We were driving off to Alibagh, a small town around hundred kilometres south
of Bombay, on the Konkan coast. Unlike our previous trips where I always found out
in advance as much as I could about the destination, I had done very little researching
about Alibagh.
Having two kids, I have realised is quite
different from having just one kid. Especially when one kid (read Anika) needs as
much attention as two kids would. V had quite wisely pointed out this one day
–‘we are managing the equivalent of three children and that is why it is so
hard’. I grasped finally what one of my old colleagues at Motorola was going
through when he said on one especially hard day I reckon. ‘ If you have three kids – you are in quite a
difficult situation’ he had muttered in
his Berkshire accent, his face quite red as I remember it as we walked in
together on a foggy winter’s day to the
office from the parking lot. ‘No matter what you do, you only have one parent
each to a child at any point and the third one which is left out is always
complaining.’
Are we out of Mumbai yet? Anika
was asking for the nth time. We are in New Bombay – Mummy replied from the front.
V started answering the volley of questions that followed. Neil had dozed off
in my arms after expressing general happiness about the traffic in Mumbai. The
sun was shining from the rear window and two dark blinds were being shifted
around to cover sleeping Neil and Anika who in general was her usual impatient
self.
Gradually the traffic petered
down. We entered the Konkan highway where we started feeling excited about the
isolation. We were crossing a few
mountains – Ghats as they are called in Maharashtra. I checked the map and
thought we were in the vicinity of Karnala, a bird sanctuary. We stopped for a
herd of goats to cross the road. It’s a pity that Anika is sleeping, V
observed. The mountain air is so refreshing, Mummy pointed out. The humdrum of Bombay seemed so distant.
‘’I want to vomit’’, Anika
exclaimed and straight away went into the process of vomitting. The car had
just left a toll junction and it was impossible to stop immediately. There was
a search for wipes which was unsuccessful, what with a sleeping baby in my hands. I went through the terrifying feeling of losing
my dupatta, a towel and Neil’s hat in
the melee. Finally after what seemed like eternity the car stopped. After the clean-up
Anika got into again the car and then faced the music from her mother who flew
off the handle. She had little to say regarding not taking the meditation and
was told off properly. Finally Mummy intervened skilfully as always and
diverted the attention of the girls in the back by pointing to a brick factory
on the left. As luck would have it a
decent restaurant popped up on the side and we stopped for a break. I had to walk into the restaurant with a
short towel covering me instead of my regular dupatta and I affirmed to Anika
again of the consequences if she refused to take anti-nausea medicine ever
again in her life
The nerves were calmed after the
meal. It is incredible how hunger and thirst can make potentially explosive
situations. V says that his wife and two kids are quite difficult to handle when
they are hungry. I have to admit that it
is largely true though. I mean I sympathise with him
We resumed our drive watching the
sun set over the mountains, beyond which we knew lay the sea. Are we there yet?
Anika started again and the google map said we would reach the hotel in 15
minutes. We passed a sign which said ‘Synagogue of Bene Israelis’. There used
to live in Alibagh round about the 17thcentury a man named Ali , who
owned several orchards and land in the area. So they used to call them alichi bagh in Marathi which meant the Gardens of Ali – Alibagh. (The
Bene Israelis were considered as the lost tribes of Israel who came to India through
west Asia over the centuries. The Bene Israeli community played a role in
Indian cinema in its nascent stage. Initially when women were not free to act
in movies, the leading ladies used to be Bene Israelis or Anglo Indians. I found out that Nadira – of the mud mud ken nach from Raj Kapoor’s Sri
420 was a Jew. Her sharp Jewish features and her fearless attitude probable
made her the first vamp in the history of Indian cinema).
Finally we were in the hotel and
everyone freshened up. Niel was sleeping as if there was no change of location.
We ordered some food which was so hot and spicy that there were tears in our
eyes. But no one really minded that much. The stars appeared clearer and closer
to us from the balcony and I thought we could even hear them talking to us if
we stood there long enough. Perhaps that’s why we all slept like little Neil
that night.
The next day was Saturday. After
breakfast, V and Anika ventured out to explore the resort. Mummy and I decided
to stay in with Neil and waved to Anika frolicking in the pool, which we could
see from our room. After the pool, they went out to cycle. They came back
sweaty and tired and V explained how Anika was cycling ‘’very well’’ while he made
clear with his actions from behind her that this was not the case. Apparently
he had to run two times around the resort holding on to a tiny cycle which
Anika was on which was not quite easy on his back, since he had to bend. In any
case Anika was beaming, quite excited with what she had ‘’achieved’’.
After lunch Mummy and I decided
to walk around a bit. It was the beginning of March and was quite sunny, but
the air was rather cool. We decided to settle under a comfortable sofa under a
canopy. After a while we noticed that we could see our room. Looking closely we
saw that V was walking from one end to the other of the room with Neil in his
hands and Anika was walking along side. Something was not right and we headed
back. Neil was crying. As soon as he settled down, Anika started her narration.
‘Daddy was not paying any attention to the baby,’ she started. ‘Daddy dozed off
next to him and after a while the baby got bored. I told Daddy and he mumbled
that the baby likes to play with me.
Once he started crying, he woke up and instead of carrying the baby he
went and opened all the bowls in the food tray. Then he took the baby out to
the balcony. The baby was not wearing any shoes and it was so cold that he
started crying louder. ‘’ It seems nothing had escaped her hawk eyes. It was so
hilarious that we laughed and laughed and V said nothing to defend his famous
babysitting skills. I asked him whether
he could change Neil’s nappy later and he said ‘Only if you sit next to him’.
And he has not regained his confidence even now;-)
In the evening we set of to
explore Kihim beach a few miles away. What we saw around was a village. It was
in some ways quite similar to Kerala. Hens clucking away in fields, small
houses, bitter gourd and snake gourd vines in the fields, it was quite a
contrast with the place we had left behind the other day. I guess the whole of the western coast of
India has a lot of similarities. Anita Desai’s novel ‘’The village by the sea’’
was in fact set quite close to the area where we stayed – Uran.
Kihim beach had a lot of coconut
trees. Mummy noticed that they had plenty of coconuts on them as well. The
beach itself was not very exciting to be on. There were hardly any waves and it
was quite rocky as well. On top of that Neil found the wind rather cold despite
the hat, shoes, sweater etc. he wore. V had to carry Anika as she explained
that she felt icky walking through the wet sand. However, Anika had good time
with a pony ride and a ride on a horse carriage. It was rather unfair but we started comparing
the beach with the rather wonderful beaches in Goa. And all of us agreed that
we probably won’t be returning to Alibagh anytime soon.
We decided to start our return
trip a little early and have lunch on the way. Anika without any fuss took the
anti-nausea medicine and we were back home by four in the evening, quite refreshed
after the visit to the village by the sea.
As I finish writing this account
it is past midnight and I am left wondering why I wrote it down. I used to
think that I write travelogues so that my parents can read them. But why would
I want to write it when Mummy was with me and Daddy (who hides his face in a
crowd of stars) knew what I was up to? I
can’t find a compelling explanation though. Except that I the pilgrim soul find
happiness this way.
