- Robert Louis Stevenson
The Journey
Some things in life look simpler at a distance; the tougher part is implementing it. Waking up early is one of them! And to add to that, a Saturday morning in cool November surely makes five more minutes of sleep seem like heavenly bliss. Yet, the very thought of our journey to the sea side managed to draw the sleepy legs out of slumber. A quick shower of cool water shrugged away the remnants of sleepy confusion and replaced it with the expectations of our weekend trip. The idea of a trip to Mandarmani was conceived amidst the boredom of office routine. A mere suggestion took the form of a plan and in no time transformed into a full fledged tourist schedule. A chain of mails and a couple of calls later, we were ready: Papori, Mani, CK, Upasana and me - the group had been decided.
It was 7:15 am and there was still no sign of the Sumo we had booked or rather, the people that were supposed to come in it. At 7:45am Upasana called up Papori and spoke animatedly. I sat at the dining table and sipped my morning tea, waiting for them to end their conversation. Gossiping and girls go hand in hand. “Mani is in the bathroom and CK just woke up” Upasana said, making a face as she put down her mobile. “Well, boys will be boys.... And I should go back to sleep” I said, inviting a hard glare from those small mongoloid eyes that challenged “You just dare!”
Another forty five minutes later, a white Sumo with dark tinted windows stopped in front of our house to fetch its second pick of travelers to the beach. Our journey had finally begun to a small coastal village along the shores of the Bay of Bengal. Mandarmani, as it is known, is situated at a distance of around 180 km from the heart of Kolkata. It is a fast developing seaside resort village of West Bengal and arguably much cleaner than it’s more famous cousin, Digha. Records state it to be the longest drivable beach in India.
Breakfast inside a cramped Sumo has its own share of drama. Boiled eggs, brown bread smeared with flavored cheese and assorted range of juices was in demand as hungry people satisfied their starving stomachs. Upasana on one occasion came close to smearing the driver's face with cheese as the vehicle took a sharp turn. “Lucky fellow, he escaped the assault.. he he..” I tried to visualize a surprised cheese coated driver and the apologies that would have followed thereafter.
After an hour into the journey, we stopped at a small town to get some music mp3s. Mani and I got down and finalized a couple of mp3s with the latest hindi chartbusters. However, latest hindi songs doesn't really mean that all of them would be good on the ears. Mani realized it the hard way. As he shuffled the player through ten disastrous songs, Papori chose to pick up the favorite line, “Who chose the mp3s?” Although a partner to the crime, I pretended to be asleep. Experience told me what was coming next. “Mani, you could have chosen some good songs you know....these are all crap... blah blah blah... dishum... dishum..” the girls had found their prey. Mani helplessly tried to jump to the next song only to find himself deeper into trouble. “CK, you went along with them, didn't you?” Papori asked. “No..no... I just got down for some fresh air.” CK defended. I smiled to myself. Some fifty pathetic songs later, a familiar melody finally brought relief to the ears and to Mani of course.
Amidst music, gossips and beautiful landscapes, the Sumo went into a cruise mode and covered more than half the distance in two hours. To a person used to crowded traffic, a smooth journey through the green fields was very relaxing. The small towns on our way brought about fond memories of home. “Wow.... look at that!” Papori's excitement disturbed my line of thought. The source of the hullabaloo was a strange looking three-wheeler that we had never seen before. A customized ride, I surmised as our Sumo zoomed past the vehicle. It was a motorized multipurpose cart: a open cart carrying passengers attached rigidly to the first-half of a motorcycle. The only public transportation in Mandarmani, we realized later. The girls were delighted as they clicked photos of every passing ride like amused kids and planned to ride one in Mandarmani.
It was noon and we had still not reached our destination. The excitement associated with the motorcart gradually faded as the journey grew tiresome. CK dozed off in between, while Mani tuned through the list of songs. Now and then, the girls would be excited to see something interesting. At one point of time, Papori even concluded that she could actually hear the sound of the waves. It was another thing that we were still about thirty kilometers away from the beach at that time.
Around 12:30 pm, we finally made our way through a dusty road to the beach. The vegetation beside the road changed drastically as we approached our destination. This time, we could actually hear the waves lashing the shores. The suspense built up as we waited apprehensively for a clear view of the sea. The trees gradually thinned out to unfold the secret of the blue waters.
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