Home Ward Bound

I am standing at the railway station, waiting for my destination…
Home ward bound…yes I am…home ward bound.

I am at the Hashimara Railway station,
A small Kasbah, a military base, around 15 kms from the Bhutan border.
Sprawling tea gardens all around, mountains in the backdrop.
Close by there is Jaldapara wildlife sanctuary, famous for Rhino’s.
Though quite amusing, but the Toorsa’s subsidiary river beds are completely dry.
I think they are storing all the water for the new hydel project at Bhutan.
It’s a nice place.

It has been quite a day, yesterday.
After spending last day at the mercy of Indian Railways and Commmies of India,
I had to spend the night at NJP, all night being pestered with “sir ladki chahiya kya”
I took a bus to Jaigaon, border town to Bhutan.

Initially I wanted to take a cab, but it was costing me a fortune, knowing it would be wasted trip in business terms, I avoided it.
The best part was the bus trip.
Small bus, 40 seater, out of which 32 were lady passengers.
11 Bhutanese, modern in dress sense to the core,
6 Indian hard working Bengali women,
Rest family types.
I took the last middle seat, as my knees were rubbing on the front seat of all other seats.
2 Bhutanese on the left and 2 on the right, four on the seats right ahead of me,
The Bengali women ahead, with sacks full of probably beetle nut, lay on the floor.

Eastern Indian Societies are women centric,
Kali worshippers, as Churchill said,
Dusky Indian women with firm heaving breast and lashing tongue,
But unlike thagi, here was pure business and human effort at par.

Like in Bengal, in Bhutan too women do all the work and men just drink or disrupt work.
Bhutanese though do have hangover of ethnicity, but in attire they would shame a similar Indian.
Wearing, light low jeans and t-shirt,
Usually commercial and ethnic proximity to china has molded them.

They are pretty, and all assets are firm, unlike their Indian counterparts,
Holter bras and Hilfiger jeans, digging into their torsos,
English is bad, but can speak Hindi, Bengali and Nepalese,
Chinese i-pods and gum chewing women, who don’t care if you are leching at their curves,.

Indians are sweating their guts off, pulling on the sacks and still managing to save their cleavages from prying eyes.
32 women, probable odds that more than one of them is having periods,
Smell mixed with that of sweat is a turnoff.

My ass is grass, sitting on the near rock surface for 5 hours.
Only solace was a continuous squeeze between two separate thighs, and some occasional brush of breast and bare arms on my shoulders.
I am a dog.

About Work.

I had somehow known about it,
But did not have much of a choice,
I had to make this trip,
This state of the art Factory was closed,
Directors were sitting in Thimphu,
Their spare parts from Sweden were awaited, and due to massive land slide, the roads were closed.
So this relay race one leg gets over here, and I have to come back next month.

One thing that will change me from yesterday’s experience will be my planning of life.

I checked into a hotel, usually they do not ask for the deposit from me, as they all know me. This time there was a new staff, and so he asked for it. I checked into my wallet and handed over some cash, It was a little short, so I walked to to the nearby ATM, to withdraw cash.
To my astonishment, I was not carrying any card or extra cash,
I just could not help laughing on myself,
There was absolutely no chance that I could get any help here.

Nearest help was in NJP, 5 hrs away,
I called up my supplier, who managed to find someone who would send me some cash.
Later at the hotel, the guys were really helpful as they heard my conversation over the phone.
They discounted the room rent by 40% and returned the money.
Took me on a motor bike to get to my source for money.

Initially I thought it would be a wasted trip, if I was unable to go to Chimee Wangmo’s Bar,
But then I did,
And the evening was good,
She recognizes me after all these days,
Knows what I drink and changed the music for me,
Highland whiskey and pork fry.
Listening to Bryan Adams and Eagles.
Come democracy and booze is expensive, roads are bad, and official certificates on the wall.
Indian border town does not serve alcohol and Bhutan does not serve chicken, bird flu is not over as yet.

All’s well that ends well.
Now I am Home ward bound.