The Incorrigible

Ritwik Joshi

This summer, Im proceeding to the inmost recesses of the Himalayas and may be up to the glaciers, declared my father on a fine spring morning as I got up groggy and tousled from my bed. My extended sojourn inside the quilt, claimed as a legitimate right on weekends, was cut short by this announcement. I was promised a full and fair debate on my inclusion on this trip once I got ready for the breakfast in time. All the rituals were accomplished in an unusually short time, and I was demanding breakfast, something unheard of and a pleasant surprise to my mother. After I had grubbed, a conference was held where my mother also demanded an equal participation. My father was in no mood to take us along because he thought we will not be able to endure the rough and tumble of the rugged terrain. Moreover, it would require additional tents and paraphernalia which meant employing more labourers to carry the camp equipments. This time around, my mother was in no mood to give up and clamoured. Im fed up of cooking and doing the chores. My father finally relented as he faced stubborn and sullen faces, but not before extracting a promise from me for a better performance in the exams and following the discipline of tent life because a mischief may prove costly. My joy knew no bounds when it was decided to take along our Tibetan Mastiffa large breed furry canine. Rimi would trudge along well in the mountains, better than you two, said my father, as the breed is well adapted to such altitudes and topography. She would stay in my tent, I said demandingly. Well sort this out later, said my father. I ended the matter then and there fearing, my perseverance would be received with considerable disapprobation. My track record of over affection to pets had been unflinching. Several reprimands, on ushering Rimi quietly at the dead of night, on my bed in fact indurated our friendship.

Next few weeks I saw my father packing things, as he would do every year, very meticulously and with great precision. List of groceries and condiments, medicines, tents, bamboo poles, iron and wooden pegs, camp cots, hurricane lanterns, petromax, canvass buckets, tool kit, adhesives, ropes, wicks, stove and pins etceteras were made in great detail. Packing was even more dexterous, as only after discarding the first carton which meets every demand of the day, will the second be opened. This way, the load would be reduced day by day and so would be the load carriers. As the days passed by and the appointed day was nearing, my enthusiasm was peaking to crescendo. One day, I found my father very upset and flustered. In a hush-hush voice he spoke to my mother. This fellow Nand Kishore is a rogue. He will do just the opposite of what he is instructed. And besides, he is incorrigible and shameless. These kind words were ascribed to the driver who was allotted to him for the official duty. The journey on that eventful day began late as against the wishes of my father who wanted to start at the break of the day. For the late arrival and non compliance, Nand Kishore unconvincingly put the entire blame on the vehicle. By around noon, when the sun was right on our head, Rimi could not bear the heat and became restless. Several soaked towels were wrapped around her and finally some ice was bought to keep the heat away. Nand Kishore was very erratic in driving that was commensurate with his behaviour. Despite several reminders to drive slowly and safe he remained true to his spirit of incorrigibility. He would maneuver the jeep very close to bicycle riders nearly hitting them and making them fall on the ground in panic. This would immensely amuse him. With a grin he would glance at me hoping to extract an appreciation for his driving skills. Not able to impress me, his impish smile would evaporate instantly and he would try still harder for a better achievement. He would play the same pranks with the pedestrians and animals on the country side. In the course of time, I realised that he did not like Rimi. I noticed, whenever we halted for refreshments and tea, he would give a contemptuous look to Rimi as she approached him with affectionate gestures lovingly wagging her tail.

It was nearing dusk and our first days destination was still thirty miles away. Sun was racing towards the horizon. The birds in flocks were returning home. The brook on our right emanating from the Siwalik hills was flowing quietly except an occasional sound produced by the impediments of boulders. The embankment on the rivulet was dotted with peasants returning home carrying haystacks and firewood on their heads. They were singing in chorus unmindful of the world around them. My immersion was abstracted by the sudden appearance of a robust bull. Albeit, the distance between the vehicle and the bull was reasonably safe and negotiable but Nand Kishore, as is said Old habits die hard, tried his tricks again and this time not able to live up to his reputation, hit the bovine on the hind side. The jeep came to a screeching halt. The bull came charging with a full blow denting the bonnet. Snorting and bellowing, he gave a grotesque look and charged again. Not to be left behind, Rimi was on her toes, growling and barking violently baring her teeth. She would have jumped off the vehicle had it not been for the alertness on the part of my father who tightened her leash. My father yelled at Nand Kishore to turn on the ignition. The melee that ensued, the cacophony of horn, engine and Rimis bark seemingly confused and perhaps scared the bull who turned around and kicking up the dust from the hind quarters rushed towards the embankment on our right. We reached our destination on the third day late afternoon, spending intervening two nights at Inspection Bungalows. Here at our destination, we were to spend first few days at the Forest Rest House in Jasrauli until some land was cleared of bushes and shrubs for camping. It was sparsely populated farm country with scattered houses, a flour mill and an apothecary shop. Nestled in the pine and rhododendron woods, the site offered splendid and enchanting view of the high lands. Fatigue of the long journey had worn me down and after an early supper I retired to my bed. Next morning when I got up and stepped out of the portico, I found my father glaring northward with field glasses and Rimi was standing beside him. Looka yonder, he said hearing my footsteps and removing his binoculars.

It was a breath taking scene. The snowy Himalayan range sparkling in the morning sun against a clear blue sky with coniferous trees in the foreground. Multi coloured birds were chirping in the woods and flitting over the buds. Men folks were ploughing the fields while women in the barn were chaffing the corns from the ears. It is so clear because it rained the previous night, explained my father. It was very puzzling to see Rimi in her new outfits. A specially fabricated metal collar with spikes placed around her neck and few small jingle bells tied to her legs. These are for her safety and protection. The collar would safeguard and prevent leopards from wounding her who, quite reasonable in numbers, frequent the woods and the bells would help us in retrieving her in case she strayed in the forest, explained my father glancing at my quizzical look. And of course would forewarn her presence to animals to avoid confrontation, he continued. My father sent for the chowkidar Dhani Ram and asked him to arrange five to six persons on daily wages who would be assisting my father in his job. About two hours later, Dhani Ram reported back that there was a shortage of labourers as most of them had been employed in the removal of debris, and reconstruction some twelve miles from here, where a month ago, a severe earthquake had hit the area. Five boys have come forward. They are students and have volunteered to work, clarified Dhani Ram. Arrange for some chairs in the lawn, I would like to meet them, instructed my father. Presently, all five surrounded my father and were discussing something not very clearly audible to me in the portico. Four of them were in the age group of twelve to sixteen and one somewhat older. Soon, I learnt that the older one had finished his college majoring in history whereas the rest four were still in school. They were having their holidays and wanted to earn some pocket money. Soon they were let off and asked to report back an hour later for the assignment.

Displaying amazing alacrity, together they cleared a glade off shrubs and bushes and in no time six tents were pitched. Three tents were in a row, the fourth a Kitchen Tent was in front and the rest two Necessary Tents in short referred to as N Tents were farther and some distance apart. One of the latter was for bath with neatly laid chiseled paving stone disjointed from the nearby rock exposure and the other served as a toilet. By evening, the major part of the job was accomplished under the watchful eyes of my father. Next day they were summoned early in the morning. Their day began by clearing another piece of land some two hundred metres south of our camp site for parking the empty trailer and another tent for the driver. By mid day everything was very neatly arranged with camp cots put in place, lantern and petromaxes cleaned and filled with kerosene, water for bath and drinking arranged and kitchen established. All of us had a break for the lunch and then assembled again. Pappu would assist in the kitchen, Jeevan; the youngest of the lot would look after the camp site and do the errands while Girish, Kailash and Lalit would accompany me to the field work, instructed my father. Next morning, I saw my father in different attire. Wearing blue jeans, a shirt with lot of flap pockets, marching boots, a special kind of compass attached to his belt, field glasses and adorning a large sun hat, he held a special hammer in his hand. Each morning he would leave for geological investigations and return late in the afternoon. In the evening and stretching up to dinner time, large maps would be unrolled, and data collected in the field would be transferred to them. Grossly immersed, pondering over the field diary and maps for a great length of time, he was often heard and seen talking to himself and making gesticulations with both hands. While mamma and I would sit in front of camp fire, the entire contingent and Rimi would sit around us. Except for the two, the rest were off from the duty but would seldom show eagerness to return home. They would narrate to us the folk lore and ghost stories. These ghost stories would frighten me and send goose pimples all over my body but I would maintain a bold faade. Sometimes my father would also join us when he was through with his plotting. Following a self imposed frugal dieting because of heat and arduous journey, Rimi responded to regular meals as a parched land does to rain. She

was enjoying the salubrious wilderness. In no time she became the darling of every one .The boys had fallen head over heels in love with her. She became the bone of contention among the five over her ownership for the evening strolls. Some would feed her millet and maize while others brought her turnips and nuts. Madam, please refrain him from doing this, complained a chubby lady. My son is offering his share of milk to your pet, I have discovered this through my own sources, complained the concerned woman. My mother was ignorant about this deal between Jeevan and me where I had an equal participation. My mother somehow assured the lady that this would not happen again. In return, Rimi also poured her affection over Jeevan in unbound measures. She was rising three weeks then, when my father bought her for three thousand rupees. She is rising five and half years now, and all the gold in India would not buy her. Her dam had died in an accident soon after she and her siblings were born. They were raised by a surrogate mother. Therefore, to avoid an early neglect, it had become imperative to separate her from the litter, which normally is done after eight weeks. As the days passed by, Rimi earned her popularity in the neighbourhood. Certainly the altitude and the place had their effect in shaping her to grow upon a very attractive and handsome specimen. Village folks from far and wide would visit our camp site to have a look at the furry species nothing short of a Himalayan black bear adorning a similar white V on the chest. She won the heart of one and all except Nand Kishore. He despised her for reasons best known to him and the prophet. Jeevan and I played with Rimi during the day after she was thoroughly brushed and cleaned; a ritual for which I competed fiercely with my next rival Jeevan. Otherwise obedient, she would on seeing troops of langurs, disregard our instructions. She would dash down to valley side and chase them who would promptly seek refuge in a tree. Once ensconced on tree tops, they would tease her by dropping rotten or half eaten fruits.

Presently, I gathered that no one liked Nand Kishore. His boorish behaviour was not liked by the villagers but they tolerated him as they, on occasions were obliged to him for a free ride. It was nearing three months since our arrival at Jasrauli. My fathers assignment was over. In the intervening period he made several trips to the interior taking the Alpine tents and leaving us in the company of Rimi and two guards. We abandoned our tents and moved to the Rest House again. Tents were brought down, dried in the sun and packed in gunnies. They were loaded on the trailer along with boxes containing neatly packed rock chips for further examination under the microscope at the headquarters. The last night was celebrated with a camp fire and sweets were distributed to all. Next morning after a group photo session we bade good- bye to our young brigade. The vehicle moved slowly towing the trailer on the winding curves and I kept gazing at the forlorn site until every thing disappeared from my view. By second day we were descending down the hills and nearing the vast alluvial plains of north India. As the altitude lowered, it became hotter by each descent. By about two in the noon, we had covered some distance in the plains when we decided to have some leisure and refreshments. As we entered an Inspection Bungalow of public works department, the chowkidar opened the suites for us. On the road side adjoining the bungalow was a crowded tea stall where village folks were supping tea. The gay crowd in gay garments was returning from the village fair nearby. Snacks and tea were soon ordered from the stall and we relished them. While my mother rested in the suite, we decided to go out and see the country side. The brook on the leeward side of the embankment flowed quietly with scattered egrets trying their luck. It was a parched landscape and unusually hot for us as we had been accustomed to the cooler climate of the mountains. To take off his heat and drowsiness, Nand Kishore had already left towards the river with a towel and a fresh pair of clothes. My father was standing with his arms akimbo and enjoying the country side when the crowd hollered. An enormous bull was charging our vehicle and people were running helter-skelter. Rimi turned around and dashed towards the bull to take on, was in a flash, tossed in the air. Yelping she came down with a thud, and with ears laid back and tail tucked in,

ran for dear life. The bull followed her towards the embankment. Both; the formidable and the fearful crossed over and were soon out of sight. Lo and behold! Rimi appeared on the scene again bounding and followed by Nand Kishore, completely stripped and running for his life from the imposing danger as the bull approached and gained on him at every gallop. All the assistance my father could render was to shout at the full extent of his lungs. The men folk joined in lustily and the tumultuous pandemonium reached its climax. For about twenty- five or thirty metres the desperate and unequal race for survival and supremacy continued and just as the bull was within the reach of Nand Kishore, it unaccountably stopped and then moved in the reverse direction. Not looking back, the sprint continued until they snugged into the dingy room of the chowkidar. Both escaped by showing a clean pair of heels and providence. The crowd burst into peals of laughter on catching the sight of a man running in his birthday suit. Bowing their heads and avoiding a direct look, the women with squinted eyes sniggered and blushed at this strange yet amusing sight. Only then did we realise the coincidence when someone from the crowd informed that the bull was acting roguish for the past three months. Since then, he had been challenging only jeeps that passed by and ignored the rest. One from the crowd was sent to retrieve the assets left behind by Nand Kishore and promptly deliver them to him. Dressed, as he came out of the room, with tears in his eyes and oblivious of the act of obscenity that he performed a while ago, the overriding thoughts that filled his mind was that he was saved by Rimi who intruded into his privacy to forewarn him of the bulls intentions. Strong believer of childhood tales, he carried the impression to his adulthood that animals do not forget their friends and foes alike. He was caressing Rimi time and again who found a new companion in him. The return journey witnessed an antithesis of him. He drove straight and cautiously, not displaying his driving skills again and, at every halt went out of his way to buy some eatables for Rimi. Strange are the ways of nature. A man who could not be amended by any one from the superior race was so easily recompensed by only two representatives of the Animal Kingdom, murmured my father as he stepped out of the vehicle to enter the portico of our house. Years have passed by and Rimi is no more with us. Nand Kishore, who occasionally visits us, is a changed

personality now. Whenever, I am reminded of this trip, I become nostalgic and this incident still sets my ribs tickling at its very reminiscence.

Ritwik Joshi 52 Bal Vihar Colony Post Office CIMAP Lucknow-226015 Ph. 0522-2342604

Class XII-2 City Montessori Inter College B-320, Kamal Kunj Mahanagar Branch, New Building Lucknow 226 006