The train began chugging exactly at quarter past five. Luckily, no one came to occupy the two vacant seats next to mine in Shatabdi — dubbed one of India’s swiftest passenger coaches. I was alone on my three-hour trip to Panchkula, Chandigarh’s twin township.
I had been planning this trip ever since I landed in India. Chandigarh is one of India’s most well-planned cities. It is also home to the famous Rock Garden but more on that later.
Earlier in the day, I’d loaded my iPod with the latest music. With The Zahir by the mystic Brazilian Paulo Coehlo for company and music from Strange City soothing my acoustic senses, I knew I was in for a delectable trip. Enjoyable as it was, the entire route to Chandigarh was lambent.
Lit up, as if some royal carriage was scheduled to pass by. Chandeliers glowed on naked trees. Old houses wore a luminescent look. Every time I gazed out of the windowpane, a band of boys and girls would smile their best smiles. Everything was bathed in a strange mirthful hue.
Great hosts
Now Punjabis — both in India and Pakistan — are well known for their heartiness. My friend’s entire family stood at the belvedere to receive me. I felt touched in my soul. It was hospitality standing along with gladness. Such beautiful, warm people.
I was led to Panchkula, a five-minute drive from Chandigarh. Surrounded by the valleys of Himachal and the air-force runways of Ambala, Panchkula is an exotic, historic place with an overall laid-back feel. The roads are wide, clean and law is followed to the last detail. I learn’t that Panchkula is prone to unreliable rainfall and has a great variation in temperature. It actually rained on Day-2. The place was true to its form.
We quickly finished a rather finger-licking dinner. They are too good at it. It was a sumptuous meal with dollops of ghee. Normally I shriek at the sight of extra oil. Here in the middle of an effervescent place, with a very warm family surrounding to feed you, I simply gave up. It is better to indulge once every now and then.
Since it was celebration time (Baisakhi), we burst crackers. We set aglow a few dozen fuses. I’ve never allowed myself to be absorbed to such daring, on any previous occasion. I admit, however that I do love fireworks, and I have missed them before, and I couldn’t miss them again!
Le Corbusier’s Chandigarh
It was a little team-effort. My friend, his naughty nephew and me. Together we added some more decibels to the myriad booms, which rented the usually tranquil evenings of Panchkula. The elderly parents in many homes clapped on the porch. The stars twinkled. It felt relaxing. Homely.
Day-2 began on a rainy note. It poured. A cold morning and hot bed-tea is always a terrific idea. The tea smelled of ginger and nectar. Balmy. After a rocking night — fireworks continued long into the morning — it came as an elixir. The rain stopped towards afternoon. In the meantime, we sat — a brainstorm — to create a small poem for the nephew, for his fancy dress competition.
I drove to the Rock Garden in Le Corbusier’s Chandigarh. I was amazed. They say the lotus blooms in the mire. Built on industrial waste and thrown-away items, the garden is perhaps the world’s most poignant and subtle statement of a possibility of finding beauty in the unexpected and accidental. It expresses so elegantly — fragility of the environment, need for conservation and importance of balancing industrial development. I loved the architecture, conceptualisation and theme of the garden. Replete with imagery and layers of meaning, it offers you lots.
We gadded about in Sector-17, Chandigarh’s fashionable shopping street. My hosts enjoy life with a shade of humour, which I truly admire. I laughed aloud with them.
A moment lasts all of a second, but the memory lives on forever.
Ahmad Nazir is a Dubai-based freelancer
