Echoes of the Past: Fate’s Intertwined Threads
This trip to Srinagar with my family did not appear to be a pleasurable experience. We didn’t fight, but I wasn’t feeling like I was part of the trip. Each place we visited for sightseeing felt familiar to me. My children and wife, on the other hand, thoroughly enjoyed the trip, I was part of the trip, but mentally I was somewhere else. The horseback ride to mini-Switzerland, the gondola ride in Gulmarg, the snowfall experience at Udhampur, and the visit to the Mughal Gardens were all reminding me of some memory. Each location brought back memories for me. I felt like a ghost returning to those familiar places; I dread staying in Srinagar any longer, but what am I supposed to tell my family? I kept thinking all the time.
Just as we arrived at Lal Chowk on our final day of the trip for some shopping, looking at those old lanes suddenly reminded me of an old backpacking trip I took with Nita. That’s when I realised why I felt I’d been to this part before and why each location had a deep connection with me. “Sandeep, where are you going? Why are you heading towards that narrow lane? There’s nothing to shop for over there!” my wife yelled. That’s when I realised I’d drifted away from them and moved towards this shop I visited during my trip; the shop was still there, but it appeared to have been abandoned for many years. We rushed to our hotel because we had an evening flight from Srinagar airport, and it was already 1:00 pm as we headed back to the hotel.
We had already packed our bags, so we had to stuff all the dry fruits and kawa in the backpack and check out of the hotel. By the time we finished the boarding procedure, it was already time to board the flight. As the flight took off, I kept watching the serene, snow-clad mountains from my seat. As the flight took off, I sat back and reflected on old memories from my college days. We were a group of six guys and girls, and both Nita and I were madly in love. We were travel freaks, and we spent every spare moment planning small trips. But we’d always wanted to go on a backpacking trip, just the two of us.
The question was whether our traditional family would agree to this proposition. We had our own reservations, but Nita suggested, “Why don’t we all go together as a group? We can say it was a field trip for research; this would help us easily convince our family.” To which I replied, “Well, this would also help to arrange some funds from family.” Convinced, the first task was to persuade our group to go on the trip, which was simple; the difficult part was persuading our family. They agreed after much coaxing, but budgets were an issue.
So we got together to plan, we sold some of our prized possessions on eBay, we started doing homework for some of our friends, and the student discount kicked in. Surprisingly, I knew some people who showed me how to book hostel rooms using my student ID.
Finally, D-Day arrived, and we were ready to board the train from Mumbai Central Station to Delhi, where we were supposed to stay at the Hazrat Nizamuddin Station because we didn’t have much money to spend in Delhi. We kept our luggage in the cloakroom for only ten bucks because we planned to spend the entire day visiting places of interest in Delhi. We had lunch at Huaz Khaus and Purani Delhi, then shopped for warm clothes in Delhi before Kushi suggested we mix Old Monk into Thumps Up and carry it during our overnight trip to Jammu Tawi station. as this would allow us to get at least some sleep in the cold.
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We arrived at Jammu Tawi station early in the morning and awoke with the worst hangover we had ever experienced. We managed to eat something and then take some pain relievers; we were completely drained by this point, but we still had to travel for more than 15 hours by local transport to reach Udhampur. The bus ride was as bad as expected, as the winter season was about to begin. But we wanted to enjoy the snowfall; only Mumbaikars know how much they enjoy snowfall.
The air hostess jolted me awake by asking if I wanted something vegetarian or non-vegetarian to eat, as they were serving in-flight dining. I noticed Nita’s name on her uniform. I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or if this was real. Sir, what do you want? She asked again.
That’s when I came back to my senses, but what I wasn’t able to miss were her brown eyes and her cheeks; it felt like I had met her sometime back in my thoughts. OMG, she looked just like Nita. I wore my specs and read her name again: Nita Kapoor. I thought to myself, “Hell, I am not dreaming.” Is she the same Nita I know? But the third time she asked, I replied, “I would prefer an egg omelet or vegetarian meal, along with black coffee, thanks.”
She served me the food, while my wife was not interested in eating anything and preferred sleeping because of travel sickness.
I considered pulling out the in-flight magazine, but then decided against it and returned to my thoughts. It was truly amazing how we were able to complete the entire journey by train, station stopover, and local transportation during those days. We were so excited to experience something new that we didn’t think about getting tired. Real experiences provide more thrills than modern-day stays at opulent hotels.
I was transported back to those days when we were inseparable and always blushing. Back then, we used to write letters and make PCO calls with one rupee coin. I remember getting 50 rupees in change from the local tea walla from our canteen just so we could talk for hours. We’re connected now, thanks to mobile and Facebook, but we don’t have time to chat. We were so close that our trips always ended in love-making sessions.
The phrase “Our paths are destined to meet again” came to mind from a recent book that I read. At that point, I remembered and thought to myself, “Is this female Nita somehow connected to my Nita? But how is this possible? How is it that everything happens by coincidence? As far as I can remember, Nita abruptly dropped out of college when her father was transferred to Cambodia and she accompanied her family on a diplomatic mission. Nita abruptly disappeared from my life after our trip to Srinagar, leaving no traces behind. I was growing more curious and anxious to know about her whereabouts. A thought came to me at that very moment. If Nita was expecting after that trip, wouldn’t her child be an air hostess now?
