The train was already parked at the platform by the time we scampered to the Gir railway station.I was nagging everybody to complete their breakfast, fast ; we had to catch the only available 9.45 train from Gir to Una. Jaya had suggested that the trip could be extended by two days to cover Diu as well. It seemed like a good idea. Little did we(including her) knew that she was going to add twists to make this adventure unbearable. Unbearable adventures become unforgettable when marinated enough in time. You curse the moment when the thought of such adventure seemed fascinating, but its’ too late to recover by then. We had jogged from the guest house to the railway station, it wasn’t far. Jaya and Zubin were in no hurry to bid good bye to other members there and we paid dearly for it. Leslie, Vijay and his father, Zubin ,Jaya and I rushed to the ticket counter.
The man at the counter was a man of patience and peace. Slow movement, calm face ,the sort who could watch his house burn without any grief and action. By the time his Gujarati and our Hindi intersected somewhere in between , a precious half a minute was lost. As he handed over the tickets ,I asked the dreaded question,
“How long is the halt?”
He smiled cutely and raised his right index finger,
“Ek minitano thobho”(one minute halt). We heard the whistle and that was the perfect moment for everybody to grasp what I had been anticipating all along. The train had started. We made a dash for it. Vijay and I led the mayhem and Zubin and Jaya made up the rear. Even Gupta uncle (Vijay’s father) outpaced them both. Leslie with his zebra T shirt was cantering somewhere in between. The Junagadh-Delvada train ran on a meter gauge and such trains have a slow dead-start acceleration and I was confident we were catching it. I got in first, followed by Vijay. The thought of having managed it in spite of bungling it royally made me feel like The Professor of Money Heist. The job was not complete yet. Next came Leslie, who jumped like a trained horse straight at us. Gupta uncle was quite nimble footed for his age and he was comfortably in too. The train was still jogging and Zubin and Jaya were not far from the door. I was ready with my hand stretched.
“You made it, throw me the bags”, motivation was needed in equal measure with deftness.
“It’s the weight. I don’t think I can make it”,she replied. By now Zubin also looked like he wanted to lose the race.
“Don’t worry about the weight, just throw them”, I shouted.
“I am not talking about the bags”, she was gasping . Then I imagined it vividly; my hand stretched ,she catching hold of it and instead of me pulling her in, I getting dragged out and landing face first on the rough concrete platform. I shuddered. She and Zubin gave up the chase, the train had now picked up speed…….
On the second day, we woke up while it was still dark. After the previous day’s rendezvous with the lioness, we were determined to finish the chores fast and occupy the first gypsy before anyone else. The night banter in the porch of our room stretched till midnight. Farooq’s tiger encounters on previous sojourns, Jaya’s tales of quirky BNHS members she met on excursions, discussion on Leslie’s unique dressing style all added charm to the entertainment.
To imagine Leslie, picture a 5’11’’ tall, lanky person with pleasing disposition, a very generic face, hairstyle like 70’s heroes where the hair started on top of head and flowed in waves till they reached and half –covered the ear. However, the low density of hair on his right temple and center made that bob of hair drooping on left side conspicuous. They mostly laid down silently but if a sudden gust of wind passed some of them would wake up shocked like humans do when they see a bad dream. His collar-less T shirt was half sleeved and had alternate black and white stripes running concentrically from the top to bottom. He had multiple of those so that passion could romance hygiene.
(Leslie & Farooq having a lookout with Patelji)
We got the first gypsy for all our efforts. Morning was just pandiculating and stretching its arms. The safari started and we were groggy for want of sleep but excited as well to watch the maned lion. As the gypsies meandered through the designated route, all of us were looking keenly in the woods. Other than some peacocks, it seemed the jungle was still asleep. In just a day I had seen so many peacocks,I was longing to see crows. By now we had gathered a healthy lead over rest of the gypsies. As the gypsy swerved on a right turn, Patelji spotted something and asked all of us to look somewhere far on the right side. None of us saw it at first. The sambar was properly camouflaged in the pale yellow leaves and the view was partially blocked by the trunk of a tree. It was busy grazing on the ground, completely oblivious to us in front and the danger lurking behind. Behind it, roughly 15-20 feet further, a dark silhouette was stealthily reducing the gap. It was surely not a lion and wild boars , though carnivores, generally feed on leftovers rather than hunting food .As it neared the sambar quietly in a crouching position, one small step at a time, all of us watched it, completely hypnotized in the moment. It was a leopard.
Leopards prefer solitary environment, hunt mostly at night and are generally elusive to be spotted near the safari track. We were told on the first day itself that lions would be ample to sight, leopard would be a dream come true. With the sambar in its leap’s range, it stood up steadily for the last act. We were all ready with our cameras for that once in a life moment to be captured. The gypsies and some irritating characters in them arrived at the most inopportune moment there behind us. The noise of vehicles and those in them alerted both the sambar and leopard. The sambar just looked up and continued with its breakfast, but the leopard had backed off and retreated hastily in the trees, not to be seen again. I looked at the people behind and then I looked up. So near yet so far .God had not written the final chapter for that sambar yet and at the same time given us a gift to cherish forever. We spotted the lionesses but the maned lion was a no show. The safari ended with mixed bag of feelings for us. Incredibly, over the next two days the male lion dodged us completely.
We once did manage to spot a pride of lionesses and their cubs sitting on the track in one of the afternoon safaris. The day was fading and it gets dark pretty fast in the jungle. We waited patiently, the sunlight was now visible only on the top of trees. They were having a jolly good time and were in no mood to move. After waiting for few more minutes, Patelji decided to take the matter and the baby latth in his hands. There were four lionesses and two cubs to be precise. We were in shock as old Patelji and his latth would be no match if things got out of hand. All of us looked at each other and made a silent pact that we were not intervening to placate the lionesses, come what may. Patelji calmly went near them and tapped the ground two-three times to clear the path. All the lionesses were now staring at him; I wasn’t breathing and could feel the hair on my neck standing up. They simply won’t budge . Nobody, even Farooq, went for their camera, what was unfolding left every one stunned and paralyzed. What Patelji did after that, readers need to trust in me as much as I trusted in God for Patelji’s well-being and Patelji trusted in those lionesses. He tapped lightly on the lower part of one of them (was in a sitting position like pet dogs do when expecting something). She got up and started walking away from the track. Others followed suit and they disappeared among the trees. Patelji with his frail frame walked towards the gypsy and sat down nonchalantly, ignoring our adulation as if nothing had happened. ‘That’s all in a day’s work for me, chill guys’ he didn’t say it but I heard. I stopped celebrating my small achievements in work after that day.
On the last night of our tour, Jaya proposed that we can extend our trip by a couple of days to include Diu. All in our group except Farooq agreed and it was planned that after next day’s morning breakfast we shall catch the train to go to Una, the closest railway station to Diu. The station was not far off from the guest house.
That not far off had created a pandemonium of humungous proportion now. The train picked up speed. I threw my bag and then myself on the platform. I gave them a death stare and then watched train go by us with half our team. I gave a mouthful to Zubin and Jaya for first whiling away time at guest house and then not taking efforts to catch the train. Jaya was embarrassed and suggested to make another effort. We went to the station master’s office. He told us that the train shall reach Talala station in another hour and there it had an extended halt. The passenger train travelled slow and our chances were bright if we left immediately. There were no auto rickshaws in Gir then,we saw Dixon coming towards us in gypsy as we were walking back to the guest house. I had given up hope and was still angry at them to bother to talk to him. Jaya asked if he could drop us to next station in exchange for suitable charges. Dixon said that he would have done so had he not been on an urgent errand. He offered to drop us at the highway intersection and from there we could hitch hike to Talala with another vehicle. It was too complicated and dependent on multiple probabilities. Jaya was absolutely positive and Zubin was mischievously smiling; he was secretly enjoying all the mishap. I got hold of his dense crop of hair and banged his head on the windshield.
“Avinash ,get in soon” ,they both were in the vehicle already and yelling at me. I snapped out of my dream, violence in dreams is expression of subjugated desires without fear of consequences, and sat in the gypsy. Dixon bhai revved the engine and off we flew. We realized he must’ve harboured ambitions to be a pilot, without the speed limit regulation inside the sanctuary, he was now conversing with us and the wind at the same time. He effortlessly dodged the Maldhari tribals and their buffaloes on & in the way. He told us that some hamlets of Maldharis were inside the sanctuary itself; they were not forced out of their homes and were used to lions sometimes straying near their huts for water or some ‘snack’. Life is beautiful but it is hell weirder. The highway came in no time, we offered to pay him, he vehemently refused and requested us to stop embarrassing him. We waved at him and smiling Dixon and his plane vanished in the harsh sunlight in couple of seconds. There we were, stranded in the middle of nowhere on a highway with no living creature in sight waiting for a vehicle to give us lift. The vehicles passed and I kept fidgeting with the watch . It was 10.15 ,we had another 30 minutes to reach the next station.I and Jaya were making desperate attempts to stop vehicles. I turned to check on Zubin, he had removed some lotion from his bag and was applying it to his face. A bus finally stopped after few minutes. It was full of baraatis travelling to the wedding destination. After the enquiry, they allowed us in the bus. The mood was festive and they were playing Antakshari. Zubin even joined one of the groups, Jaya was all smiles and I was nowhere there in the bus, just me and the watch, somewhere else. In between, he requested me for a song from T, I shot back “As in T for Talala ?” . We finally reached the dropping point. We alighted and the last mile was to be on foot. We looked towards the railway station. It was almost a kilometer away from where the bus had dropped us and more importantly we had a clear view of a train reaching there. I had had enough, I told them that if we missed the train again, I am going back to Junagadh with or without them.
We walked briskly towards the station and I admonished them to move their feet faster this time. The train was parked there when we huffed our way to the station. Another couple of minutes went in spotting the bogie with our friends. Vijay and Leslie were pleased and surprised to see us there. We climbed in and narrated the tale of our journey to reach there. The subsequent train journey with its leisurely speed and stops at cute little stations was fantastic as was the Diu stay over next couple of days. We visited the Nagoa beach , played “Aiwa re aiwa” (here comes the wave) with the locals, ate fruits of Hoka trees only found in Diu(Zubin purchased them,I found the taste horrible ,and after a few bites Zubin threw them away too) and wandered on the streets of Diu aimlessly. Diu , we realized was quite an under rated tourist destination with its beautiful beaches , churches and architecture reminiscent of Portuguese heritage. The entire trip was so memorable, the missed train part included, going back home was very depressing for me.
Jab We Met released two years later and we all went to watch it. As we walked down the staircase of the theatre ,Jaya reminded me about Anshuman’s rant in the movie where he is forced to go to sugarcane fields with Geet’s cousins while she is busy getting engaged to Aditya “Kyu dekhu mai ganne ke khet ? Kya khaas baat hai ganne ke khet mein? Nahi jaana mujhe ganne ke khet mein” . Laughing manly, she continued “Avinash, I imagined you as Anshuman at Gir railway station after the train fiasco ranting ‘Kyun dekhu mai Diu , kya khaas baat hai Diu mein , nahi jaana mujhe Diu” . Some people have natural, God gifted talent of getting under your skin when you are least expecting it, I tell you.