Whirlwind India Trip- March 25 to April 3 2020

As the puzzle around my move to the Phillippines got more and more complex, it became clear that the summer would not be a likely time for us to meet my parents as a family- as we had originally planned. Hence we decided very quickly to take the first week of spring break to go to India- and specifically Jamshedpur with the kids. My parents had often been lamenting about when they will see the grandkids- what with covid restrictions and their failing health. The plunge was taken- and we were soon cartwheeling towards terminal 3 departures right after my last MS teams meeting ended at 10.30 PM. The check-in process was not as bad as I had imagined. It was expected to be really crowded at the airport owing to the beginning of spring break- travellers with kids were wont to form serpentine queues at check in counters- and they did. But yet, I had expected more delays and was pleasantly surprised when we found ourselves at the departure area within 45 minutes- post checkin, immigration and security check. Vihaan, I must mention here, had secretly packed his laptop computer ( an old macbook air which was clunky but allowed for basic browsing) and its attendant charger cables. His back pack usually had a teddy bear and not much else but not this time. As we were all unaware of his package, we did not instruct him to remove his laptop for the x-ray screening. And somehow no one paid attention to his bag as it came out as-is on the other end upon which Vihaan nonchalantly picked it up and headed forwards. It was only when I took the bag off him while he wanted to sit on the train to the departure terminal A that I realised how heavy it was. So I unzipped it and took a peek and I then saw it all. Following an uneventful flight, we landed in kolkata and found our driver easily. Unlike the last time I was in kolkata, this time my dubai phone worked and I was able to call and text the indian driver on his local phone. We settled into the scorpio and embarked on a road trip due west- taking the belgaria highway and crossing the hooghly at the famous dakshineswar temple- which we could spot on our right. It was a stop and start ride for about 45 minutes during which we had to pause at toll gates and stop at lights, even though we were on a national highway. This happened all across howrah, uluberia and all the way to bagnan. Thereafter we entered what would resemble a freeway- an easy ride with no lights but still requiring some traffic beating manoevres by our driver who swerved and cut away at reasonably high speed to keep moving onwards. This was interesting since he had earlier mentioned to me that he was not allowed to do more than 80 miles an hour- company policy of savaari.com. When I raised this to him and asked why he was clearly and flagrantly violating the rule, he  sheepishly mentioned that his boss had just called him and told him that following the drop off in Jamshedpur, he needed to be in Dhanbad by 6 pm latest. Hence he was officially given permission to “ haul ass” as they would say in America.

We stopped for some milky tea. In clay cups at a roadside inn in kolaghat- I had a packet of goodies for the kids and it came out at this pitstop- breakfast bars, croissants, bananas and chips. To be downed with some chocolate milk or orange juice. We , the parents, consumed only 2 clay cups of tea and on we drove. The road rolled on and gradually we approached the kharagpur area following which the scenery started to change- the banana tree and fresh paddy field infused verdure gave way to sal trees with fresh green leaves and a soil that got decidedly more muddy and ruddy. Soon we crossed Jhargram and turned right to continue northwards along the flow path of the river subarnarekha. Around this time we exited West Bengal and entered Jharkhand. The roads were supposed to get rougher as we approached dhalbhumgarh and ghatsila- based on my previous drive in November 2021 along the same road. But they never did. We  cruised on past the Ghatsila railway station and the boys enjoyed a nice snooze at the back. Someone had done their bit to fix the roads and I was ever so grateful. Soon enough we turned left to enter Jamshedpur via the Dimna road. There was a police check post here and I was slightly worried that we might be stopped and fined. The reason is that the car we rode in had a cow catcher attachment ahead of the front grill. This was banned in most states as it deactivated the safety bags in case of a frontal collision. West bengal, however, allowed this and most people installed it- mainly to protect their vehicle in the event of collisions, and this behaviour was suggestive of the fact such collisions in kolkata or more generally in West bengal were rampant. Last november, I had been stopped and fined rupees 1000 but this time the cops were facing the other way and we slid in via stealth. The rest of the way was a smooth ride where we crossed the subarnarekha and drove along the marine drive till we got to sonari and then Circuit House Area. We had arrived home. And this eternal trip from Jamshedpur to Kolkata or vice-versa which had been a part of my life for as long as I can remember- and continued to be- by means  of an elegant road trip -seemed to be somehow be demystified and unpacked in my head in a novel way for the first time. I dont think it would be the same ever again. And  I was not sure if it was a good or bad thing.

Approaching Chakulia..

Baba could not believe Tintin had grown so tall- he said that he had mistaken him for me- and wondered how I had lost so much weight! Probably attributable to the lens of an octagenarian which struggles to discern the difference between someone aged 47 and 12. We had reached around lunch time so we sat down to a proper bengali meal- comprising of rice , dal, 2 vegetable dishes, carp curry, chicken curry and chutney. Tintin was offered lau chingri and alu posto and asked to pick atleast one. Being a polite chap he ate some alu posto. He doesnt eat any vegetables other than cucumbers so I asked him how he liked it. A very slow sideways nod of the head ensued- which roughly translated to “meh- but I had no choice and did not want to hurt anyone’s feelings so I ate it”. 

Vihaan ate his fish after his mummy took the bones out. This was better showing than last time we had brought them home - when they would not touch any bengali food and would only eat pasta and such- much to the dismay of their doting grandmother. We spent the days as we always do- when at home the boys were occupied with their devices - although Vihaan dabbled with his pishi’s gifted colour pens once in a while. In the evenings I would go to beldih club around 4.30 pm everyday with Tintin. We would have a game of badminton for almost an hour. Thereafter we joined Pishi and Vihaan at the Tahiti Cafe for thums up, cheese balls or finger chips. And occasionally a chicken sandwich if Tintin was really hungry- which he usually was. The badminton worked out well as it gave some much needed excercise to both of us, gorging on all kinds of food as we were. Baba’s car and driver schedule was such that we had to use it in between the regular drop offs and pick ups for Baba, who still visited the clinic twice a day at age 83. It did not always work out as we all had different things to do that were our mainstays. I wanted to take the boys to bistupur for bhatia milk shakes or brubeck bakery goodies. P wanted to visit the parlor in a different part of bistupur or do shopping at fab india and such. Pishi would join P usually. And we were tight on time because we’d have to get back home before baba’s pick ups. So one day, to avoid the scheduling hassles of the car and driver I asked the boys if they wanted to take a hike to bistupur. They both agreed reluctantly after making careful inquiries related to both tenure and terrain.. And off we went along the bistupur main road, walking on the side of the road and occasionally crossing across roundabouts. It was like a video game adventure trying to dodge pedestrians, two wheelers and cars -the boys seemed to enjoy it. In particular the road was lined with large drain to remove rainwater and was flanked by planks placed along the road at regular intervals. The planks were shortish and the drain shallowish and dry so Tintin began hopping and skipping on the planks rather walk on the road to cover the same distance.  As you can imagine Vihaan had to follow suit which worked out less well given he was less than half the size of his brother. But it was negotiated well enough in the end. Vihaan got thirsty as it was a warm day- so as we approached the bistupur roundabout we stopped at the cold drink stall next to regal grounds- a landmark known for its offering of Masala Thums Up. We ordered one to share- vihaan had a few sips and was unimpressed ( it tastes really weird). Tintin gulped down the rest, no problem.  Thereafter we went to AD Pall Tailors- and I had tintin measured out for a dark grey suit- I figured he might need one at some point even in his pre-teen or teen years and the price arbitrage in India was to be taken advantage of.  We then crossed the road and walked across several blocks before turning left to the bistupur bazaar- a row of roads with all sorts of little shanty shops selling everything that one might need- a sort of deconstructed walmart. Among these was Bhatia Milk Shake- an eminent establishment for anyone familiar with Jamshedpur. The milky drinks here were to die for and there was always a queue. So chocolate shakes for the boys it was and a no sugar pineapple shake for me. And then walked back home, taking in the steel city atmosphere with our hearts and lungs- for me with no small satisfaction. Here is where I always feel like I belonged. The quintessential motorcycle guys zipped by- two youngish chaps with the guy at the back looking askance at us as if in wonder-“ this is not a sight you see usually- a man with 2 boys walking back along a major thoroughfare!”  How many times had this happened before! As we passed the main hospital to our left- I explained to Tintin- “ this is the main hospital of Jamshedpur- it’s called TMH - or Tata Main Hospital. When we were your age we had a joke where we used to say TMH stood for - “tumhe marne hoga”- or in English “you have to die”. Tintin thought it was really funny- which gave me some reassurance on atleast some portability of humour across generation gaps in such a transforming world.

As we approached the beldih club / loyola school intersection I took a right turn instead of going on straight. A short cut back home by walking past Church School Beldih ( who’s most famous son happens to be my best friend ) and then a left turn on a northern town road lined with some very large decrepit bungalows meant for bureaucrats posted in Jamshedpur by the Indian Administrative Services. On this road was a particularly decrepit bungalow that Vihaan had referred to as a Haunted House when he last visited prior to the Pandemic in 2009. He remembered it again when he saw it but it was seemed a lot less daunting during daytime since there was a scooter and a sedan  parked in the front yard.  Here it is..

We reached home worn and tired- perfect as it made for a timely hitting of the bed by the boys and some much needed us time for the adults- supplemented by some Sula Red and the Bowmore single malt I had procured from Dubai on my way in! Happy days..