A Royal Reservation

---

It was that time of the year again when a young (I mean I am only 27) guy engulfed in his mundane corporate life thought of taking a vacation… yet again, fully aware of the economic paranoia surrounding the capital markets and job equations across the globe. Conventional wisdom was not in approval of any exercise that would lead to splurging money on frivolous pursuits but the human will of triumphing over the odds was overwhelming this time. I had my boss’s blessing (approved leaves) and weather gods were backing as well, though spare a thought for the global warming cause… till mid December I haven’t paid heed to winter chill. When I look back in time, December was a month known for icy cold winds, winter holidays and annual family vacations. As kids become older, mature and get into ‘responsible’ age brackets, family vacations are replaced by vacations with friends and office mates. In short, generation gaps widens to the extent you find the aging folks obsolete in thought and action. Times have changed indeed (remember the first mega’s on TV… Hum log, dekh bhai dekh, sanjha chulha, yeh jo hai zindagi)… my old roots haunt me, for me, I loved the era of simple joys and leisurely pace.

Anyways, my travel agent confirmed my booking for Nalagarh Palace in Himachal and I was all set with my friends. So, we begin our journey at 5 AM in the morning... the idea was to miss the city traffic on NH-1, NH-1 or Sher Shah Suri Marg or Grand Trunk Road. It was built By Sher Shah Suri to facilitate his journeys to Afghan lands and beyond. The roads also served his purpose of invading the fertile Ganga plains and transport the loot to his native land. So we started early morning to avoid city traffic in Kurukshetra, Ambala and the stretch from Zirakpur till HP. But nature is smarter than what people think, the highway was clogged with fog and our speed was reduced to 20 kms/hour. It was indeed painful, as I thought this was the opportunity to push my luxury sedan to limits… daily office stretches from delhi to gurgaon are a pain, the toll plaza is still a mess and Naraina flyover is an unending project. Alas, I pushed forward with caution, concentrating on the road so I don’t hit a bolster as a major portion of the highway is under construction. Highways in India are always pitch dark in night, there is no electricity, lights or traffic cops administering the cash cow (NH-1) for NHAI. (Did you say trauma centers??) I hope with 123 agreement falling in UPA kitty, we would have a solution for our power crisis and our highways would be lit up.

As I drive through the foggy highway, my eyes are constantly glued to the fuel meter indicating that the fuel tank is on its last leg. I thought of getting (cheaper) fuel from delhi but weather gods played spoil sport and I missed on all gas stations on the way due to dense fog cover. So I fueled at Sonepat. Within 2.5 hours I reached my first spot, ‘Haveli’ a tourist cum food joint that celebrates north Indian curries and culture with fervor. My friends get paranoid about ‘clean’ washrooms on the way so I had to stop at Haveli, we had morning tea and I was on the road again. The next city on the drive is kurukshetra, the mystic land of ‘Mahabharta’ and ‘Geeta’ (a religious discourse, first ever done by Lord Krishna for Arjuna). The city is a smooth drive and you get past without any hiccups or roadblocks. The next city or a small district on the way is Zirakpur. Interesting to note, Zirakpur is the nodal point, if you take right you join NH-22 towards Shimla and if you go straight you would reach Chandigarh… the city beautiful. This stretch like many others in India are under construction, the roads are unmetalled. GMR group has bagged the creamy project but I have seen construction at snail pace in last 2 years and almost on all trips, I have faced traffic here. GMR Group - “Getting ready for India… Getting India ready” seems like there is much more to be done before they place any lofty claims on their punch line. Surprising, how government assigns important projects to firang companies and mull over it while NHAI… no further comments.

Soon I reached Pinjore Gardens or Prince Yadivendra Gardens. The beautifully laid out gardens were ceremonially laid by the great prince of Patiala. It was on the way to his summer capital ‘Chail’. The gardens boast of a restaurant and a bar. Though what may startle you is the vendor outside the conclave selling “Desi Ghee fried Ice cream”. My punj instincts indicated that my cholesterol level would go up a little… but hey, that extra kilometer in the morning is gonna burn that out. As I proceed for my wallet, my dear friend looked at me with utmost disgust and that was the end of it. I was on the road again.

A little ahead of Pinjore comes a diversion for Nalagarh, you take a left for NH-21A, towards ‘baddi’ and nalagarh. It is 30 kms to nalagarh from the diversion. Overconfidence kills the Goliath, as I thought (what!! just 30 kms), little did I know what I was getting into.
The stretch is an assault on your vehicle, there are no roads that exist for the next 20 kms and remember, we are on NH-21A, and it is a national highway. The nightmarish road makes you believe that you are passing through godless Africa and then you think… “What happened to the government here... I mean do they know that the road is this bad”. I look back and reflect, with voter turnouts in assembly elections being as dismal as 40-50% in Haryana, no wonder we subject ourselves to mindless neglect by scheming politicians. About time we all shake a leg in the ‘dance of democracy’.

As I manouver through the potholes (remember that there is no road for 20kms or so), I reach the HP border and my vehicle screeches (almost cries after being buggered) at a barrier, a well built guy knocks on the window pane and sternly says “Rs. 30”
And I extend my hand out saying “OK, give me tenners only”, the guys looks startled and says in Punjabi… you have to pay us octroi (toll) to enter HP. I throw it back at him saying, for traveling on this torturous tread, I should be paid instead. He proudly said “that was Haryana and this HP, the drive is much smoother here, these jats don’t give a damn to roads”. I could smell another regional conflict brewing here and I didn’t want to smell those beans. I paid the toll for something that took toll on me and my vehicle, murmured a little… in disdain and moved on.

Roads were indeed smooth as I reached ‘baddi’, an Industrial Township that boasts of best thread manufacturing companies across all Asia. The units were huge and expansive as the cost of land is cheaper and means to do business, simpler. A quick look at the people, sense of dressing (you can say fashion) etc. makes you feel like early 90’s. Indeed, in this small township things are slow to reach (what?? I mean we are only 300kms away from a buzzing metropolis, the national capital)

We finally reached Nalagarh bus stop, the first impression was of a small place stuck in a time warp… slow pace life with limited means at their disposal, not being given a chance in the 8% GDP story (that we all harp and feel proud about). I asked for directions and it was a revelation of sorts. I asked “where to for nalagarh palace” and they looked puzzled, for them it was about daily survival, palaces were meant for opulent extravagants like us. The startled looked assured me that they were unaware of the exact location!!! I looked for boards and then I saw the palace board depicting, www.nalagarh.in and I remembered the website that had brought about this travel plan. Important to note, the entire board was in English, I was aware of the fact that primary education is still a struggle in NCR (really… well, we got independent 60 years ago!!!), hoping that somebody would read that board and decipher it for me was asking for a little too much.

Anyways, I follow the board depicting an arrow in upwards direction (not yet time to meet the god though) and I drive ahead.
There is a small tea stall as your get closer to the palace and I asked for directions, the stall owner with a smile and a welcoming posture told me that I am on the right path (tourists are a major source of income in the hills). I am again reminded of the rudeness of metropolis where people tell you the way, minus the smile or greetings, mostly in english (it’s considered posh you see) or when someone wont know the way we would often say “what a jerk, lives in the locality but does not know the way”. “Life, in a Metro”

Now, I am driving through narrow uphill lanes towards the palace and I am cautious, there is only limited space in these bylanes which are shared by man and the beast in equal proportions; I had to share my space with few goats and hens running around and the approaching cow almost made it difficult to pass by.

Finally, I am welcomed by a spiraling gate though a little dilapidated with paint weathering away (oh my god, I hope I haven’t been tricked for my hard earned money) but still standing tall, For this is the palace that would have weathered many a storms (political, financial, diplomatic, ethical, unethical, righteous, just and above all… domestic)
My sedan halts at the gate, an elderly Durban opens the gate and greets me with a uptight king’s like salute… needless to say my inflated ‘achiever’s’ ego gets a boost and my friend is exalted by the look of well laid out gardens before the palace.
I drive through the gardens, park my car and absorb the royal surroundings, convinced and ecstatic about the palace from the outside when I get reminded by my friend for a ‘loo’… again. I am greeted ‘hands folded’ at the reception and they hand-over the keys to me. It’s a suite.
First look of my suite and scenic serenity around it is indeed eye soothing. I have a big bedroom, a living room, a big bathroom and washroom attached with it. Everything, in size, reminds you of the viceregal era (big beds, sofas, study tables, resting chairs, couch, pillows, fireplace… big was and is always ‘in’). I am elated.

I settle in my room as my friends catch up on the loo assignment. It’s really peaceful here and you could hear a pin drop. I am delighted with the accommodation provided to me, the loner in me is eager for me to salvage this peaceful time and indulge into intellectual pursuits of a thirsty mind… reading, yet again. And then suddenly the silence is broken by a echoing sound of what seems to be a religious sermon or discourse. I step out of my room to the expansive terrace of the palace. The terrace provides a serene view of Punjab plains and some river tributaries running across the ‘wheat basket’.

I could see in the town of nalagarh below, there are temples, mosques and gurudwaras that exist together, it’s a assuring sight that the secular fabric of this nation is intact. The voice that broke the silence was of ‘azaan’ (an Islamic discourse), as it subsided, the loudspeaker of the temple blared and the gurudwara’s discourse would begin in the evening. The attendant of the palace, also a local lad, told me that there are agreed timings for discourses/prayers for all religions. A near perfect example of co existence in a multi cultured and diverse society… something that the ‘educated and the privileged’ lot forgets to preach. Look back in recent history; communal riots are events hosted by existing or upcoming cities with a majority of population above poverty line, buzzing industrial growth, modern education institutions, internet and gadgets thrown in. Indeed, money makes world go round… and sometimes wrong.

Finally, I get a call for lunch and i replied in affirmative, which is very like me. We freshen up and I asked the attendant "which way is the restaurant" and he replies, "i'll take you to the dawat khana".. i am reminded of the fact that i am in royal company and this a palace... commoners go to restaurants, kings feast on gastronomical wonders in the confined walls of their decorated palaces. Obediently, i follow the guy who takes me around the palace towards dawat khana. On my way, i noticed some sculptures dating back to 12th century, curiously enough the historian in me wanted to look back in time and i closely observed the noses of the sculptures. They were intact and it meant this place was spared from the mindnumbing and senseless plundering that occurred as different Moslem dynasties invaded the country around 12th century. Aurangzeb was the possibly the last one to sabotage the secular thread by imposing Islam on one and all. It was during his reign that most Hindu temples and sculptures were subjected to utter humiliation and irreparable damage. Anyways... getting back, the lunch table is expansive and my friend was sitting at a fair distance from me. It was a welcome change from the crammed up eating joints in the city. The food served was exclusively cooked for us. (as we were the only inhabitants roaming around) The food served was homely (mama's boys wont miss their moms) and fresh, also to add it was delicious. The spread had veg and non veg servings, i have been an active promoter of animal/poultry welfare so i stuck to the righteous option... chicken (afterall setting the bird free from worldly miseries is also a form of welfare) With our stomachs satiated (somewhat overboard) with sumptuous food, we retire to our room and my friend slipped into slumber and I do what i do best... reading and reflecting.

The evenings are pleasant and you miss the winter chill... being on the foothills of shivalik range, that's obvious. The weather is city like but the environs are much calmer... no rude honking, no bustling sounds, no pushes and no shoving... everyone seems to be relaxed. So, on the terrace we indulge into another regal pastime... wining. Though we are without any wines and whines, we were prudent enough to carry our own quota of scotch... punjs have this never ending love affair with scotch whisky which may culminate in disrespecting (sometimes) other people's preference of spirits (what a man.. you don't like scotch???) ... afterall, JW black label sells more bottles in delhi than they do in scotland... who says we are a third world country. Though excise and other duties from the sale of alcohol are one of the major contributors to the exchequer, we still observe dry days... hypocrites, double standards or social stigma, not to miss... fear of the almighty... something plays. I would end my day one here, there is nothing more to tell... we continued for a while till we got sloshed and that's the end of day one. (my memory fades here, the scotch worked)

Day two, i got up early for my run (i promised my mom that i would be regular in getting up early), so i got out of bed and pulled the curtains.. it is still pitch dark outside and i can now hear animals croan in the background... my thoughts of running in hills vanish and i looked for the tv remote (what?? i kept my promise of waking up early!!!) it is early and an eerie morning (0545 hrs). i begin to flip through channels, the idea is not to watch anything in particular... it is just my way of submitting to the idiot box, like we all do... all you get to see are reruns or repeats of reality shows across different channels (electronic media's revelation since 90's is still resonating), someone is singing, some one is dancing, someone is on the bike show, someone is auditioning, someone is locked in a house, someone is playing with danger, there are kids too in the big bad showbiz world. In last 3 years or so, we have been flooded with reality tv (real nonsense or nuisance.. suit yourselves) and it is a worrying sight. Let me take you back in time (no i am not a time traveler or a crystal ball gazer), some of the 70's and mid 80's born would relate to this, remember 'mile sur mera tumhara', 'ek chidiya, anek chidiya', 'the famous torch run with sportspersons'... they all had a message that seems be lost in translation across all these years.. the message was of communal harmony, existing together, loving each other, respecting values, following the right path and love the motherland... deja vu... all that has gone off air (we have progressed or somewhat digressed from something core). What the generation (at a very nascent stage) is watching and growing up is on: bitching, plotting, scheming, opportunism, humiliating people, disrespect, trickery so on and so forth. It is scary if you think what we are subjecting ourselves to or you can discard it like a whim of a sceptic.

After clogging my head with some news, primarily about india's inability to take a decisive action against terrorist outfits in POK, i try to take a nap again but my friends are up by now and that the last blow to my hopes of slipping into slumber. We order tea and i did my bit of stretching & crunches, we call the attendant to our room to inquire about places we can venture out to. He advises informs me of 'Ramgarh Fort', it is a 20 km drive from nalagarh and has historical relevance, it is the old fort of Raja Ram Chander of hindur dynasty, he is the ancestor of the royal clan of nalagarh's lineage. I check with him about road conditions (once bitten, twice shy syndrome) and he pushes me towards optimism. we get ready and are on the road again. The drive is through narrow uphill roads with hairpin turns and the road conditions are... patchy again. I recall how smooth NH-22 to shimla is, shimla being a fully commercial (abused) & developed hill station with malls and condominiums enthralling the once pristine locale. It is of commercial value and attracts tourists in hordes given its proximity to chandigarh and delhi, so it generates significant revenue for the state government and is indeed a cash cow. Hence you see well developed infrastructure all around... nalagarh is not on the tourism promotion radar of HP government and the lackdaiscal approach and state neglect is all prevalent.

So i trudge with caution and profusely apologise to my four wheeler (also hoping the vehicle wont give up on me), peculiar to notice, as i drive through the villages on the way, state govt. has boards put up depicting the name of the village and its poulation, some had as low as 100 inhabitants... will internet ever reach here?? ... it's not for me to ponder on but i am convinced, that the body/unit/heads who are entrusted for thinking, arent doing that either.. some lessons to be learnt from china as they have alleviated a record number of people out of poverty in recent times. I cross through narrow bridges, some of them were withering out, or was it a propoganda to scare a city guy subjected to expressways and flyovers in his daily life. To add, the sights were beautiful and the drive was dutiful. Also, i noticed something that was humorous but dark reality. where ever the road became treacherous, i saw a board "Pradhanmantri maarg vikas yojna", which i am sure is a 'yojna' (plan) only as i havent seen any development activity to fortify my faith in democracy, i did not see a single road worker or engineer or contractor. So where does the development money (LADS - Local Area Development Scheme funds for the local MLA's) go, i think some grown up 'lads' havent done justice to the oath they once took.

I reach 'ramshahar', the city is named after the king and i ask folks around for the location of the old fort and they all direct me to go ahead but that presents me with a problem... there are hardly any roads to drive. Hesitatingly, i stop at a place to find the exact loaction (i had driven enough in the updwards direction) for the palace and i had stopped at the exact location (all by luck, no genius involved here). I am presented with a problem of mammoth proportions, I would have to cover the next 2.5 kms on the most ancient means of transportation ever known to mankind... human legs (what?? no ways).

Alas, i give in and start walking with my friends, who all this while had slept and moaned about road conditions, occasionally munching on some food and cautioning me to be careful on the road, to which i obliged. We start our uphill sojourn and i can see a local contractor involved in road construction activity... finally, some salvage for enraging indian (me). I ask him about the distance and he says two kms, looks at me and says "you wont be able to make it" and i look at my friend who is already nodding in denial. I see a bike parked nearby, i look at the contractor and present him with an idea... "i can cover my journey on this", i shot the arrow in the dark knowing he would turn the offer down... afterall the bike was the only mode of transportation at his disposal and given the disparity of per capita incomes (mine and his), he should turn down the offer in all earnest and look the other way (metropolis life teaches you that before you cross age 10) The guy nods his head (north to south) and gives his approval. I look at my friends and they refuse flatly (it's too risky after commuting in sedans in city) I convinced my friend and we jump onto the two wheeler (hero honda - desh ki dhadkan... true, the heartbeat of the common man is to feel for each other, this example is a classic) and are on the way, remember, there is no road, there are stones, gravel and potholes all along. Some dirtbiking extravaganza this turned out to be. We reach the top of the mountain, there are few people sitting around, basking in the winter sun. I notice and upon inquiry found out that an elderly guy in late 60's or so at the helm of affairs. Heavily panting, due to the steep climb (we had to cover last 100m on foot) I fold my hands to say hello to him and he stands up to greet me (its a welcome change) He informs me that he is the caretaker of the ruins... I look back (startled) in his aged and innocent eyes "he calls himself caretaker!! of ruins!! christ, what's there to preserve anyways but now, when I look back it was indeed a classic example of job satisfaction... for folks stuck in their corporate life with monotony eating away their creativity and economic pandemonium restricting their growth plans, this was an revealing incident... hold on for what you have... Kal Ho Na Ho.

To my surprise, the caretaker hands me over the keys and we are the masters (for the time being) of the fort. There are stairs and more stairs till you reach the iron gate of the fort. We park our facilities for a bit, catch up on some breath and then I open the lock. The door opens with an eerie (ghostly) noise and 800 years of history awaits us in its all encompassing silence. As we walk past corridors of the erstwhile exalted Hindur dynasty, it seems time stood still here and I would run into a palace attendant or courtesan on the turn ahead. The fort is in a dilapidated and withering condition, god is the sole preserver for this dot in history. ASI (Archaeological Survey of India) seems to have missed this completely and that's justified... for they have not been able to manage the sites under them in NCR, ramshahar is a little far fetched on their strained (somewhat abused and corrupted) infrastructure. Let me stay optimist, I am on vacation now. So, I did my rounds of the fort, appreciated (really!!) the burjs and ceilings what was once a palace of dreams. We sat there for a while and absorbed the sun... old times always make me reflect back and I was at it again. Soon the silence was broken by my friend who saw enough of it (not everyone has a historic streak like me) and was hungry again.

We began our downhill ride on the bike and I reached the bike's owner safely. I thank him profusely for his gesture as my hand started looking for my wallet, he smiled and looked at me and simply said, "you needed the bike and I gave it to you, it is not for rentals so i dont need any money". It was indeed a lesson in humility, money can't buy everything and sometimes words of heartfelt gratitude leave people with everlasting memories. My inflated ego severed another blow and I walked towards my vehicle with my friend in tow... thinking words and deeds are way above the moolah.

On the way back to Nalagarh through the village side roads we approached a gurudwara with a waterfall in the background, the naturist that I am, I stopped on the way, paid my obeisances and head for the water fall... its not a big one. We went down the big rocks carefully balancing our metropolitan frame. Being a punj, over the years I have carefully monitored and maintained an above normal calorie intake to calories burnt ratio... it makes you precarious at times like this and then you tell yourself: "it's just the heavy breakfast this morning.. that's all". So I trudge with caution, park myself on a rock, the water is flowing and falling on the rocks with vigor, the noise is like music to my ears, for me, i am sick of people honking, loudspeakers shoving relegious discourses down my ears, politicians promising moon to the naive commoner, boss's 10 commandments and above all my inner voice that echoes in my ear every time i deviate from the righteous. At times, I want to close these voices out but i have some distance to go before i attain nirvana. Anyways, barefeet, i enjoyed cold water running through my feet, it is seemingly refreshing and goes notches higher than any masseur's capability to rejuvenate your feet, for me, my feet were exhausted in the ever growing menace of city traffic which has seen an unmanageable surge owing to vested commercial interests of different trade lobbies and a subsequent failure of our traffic governance system as they are ill equipped to handle the situation... also to add... big egos (road rage), 'i am a smart manouver' theories, political activism, regional conflicts, relegious processions and road rages that can delay or disrupt traffic at any given day.

We make a move towards our seemigly tired looking machine, sit inside and get back on the way again. Upon reaching nalagarh, we are hungry (again) and start sniffing for food joints. Food joints (dhabas) are not in abundant and your options of submitting to gluttony are limited. Upon asking we were directed towards Ropar (an upcoming city) for some punj cuisine... i drive towards the destination till I am met by an unassuming sight.. the road i was driving on... ceases to exist before me... my car has to take a detour. It passes through a dry river bed with 'puddles' (an indian phenomenon owing to corrupt workd department's contractors) and the axle makes a funny noise.. i pray harder and we get past. We reached a food joint: 'Phuhar Restaurant and hotel', the hotel almost has negligble occupancy, ours was the only car parked in the premises. We sat down on our table and ask for the food menu, the attendant presents us with a laminated sheet which gives an impression that is has been used as a tissue paper in the past. We glance at the endless menu which encompasses almost all cuisines and presents us with an example of how this country has amalgamated different cultures and curries and given them a new form. Like : Chilli Chicken, Chicken Lollipop, Noodles samosa, veg/non veg manchurian... india's contribution to chinese cuisine. After satiating ourselves with some indian food we make our way back to the palace. Upon reaching we retire to the comforts of our kingsly suites.

As the sun sets in, the view from my terrace is serene, the view puts you at peace but I thought of indulging in some godly pursuits.. so I poured myself some vinatge scotch, it was one of my friend's birthday and we engage ourselves in a conversation over some cake. As sun goes deep, alcohol content goes deeper in my stomach and i am in 'high spirits'. Day two ends here... much like day one.

Next morning, we ventured out for a walk (it was daylight at 7 am) trying to figure how kill some time today (it wont happen - 'the day after tomorrow') As I walk past the narrow street lanes of nalagarh, the city is waking up to a misty morning, i can smell some cowdung cakes being burnt somewhere. 60 years hence, we are still primitive in our quest for energy needs, while the cities moves to IGL's gas lines, nalagarh is marred with an erratic LPG supply. The shopkeeper greeted me morning without any 'provocation' from my side and i responded warmly. I sat with him and asked him about places i can visit during the day... he recommends me Anandpur and Kiratpur gurudwaras that are 30 - 40 kms away. I was not very upbeat about testing my stomach and my car's capabilities as the roads are a real 'grind' here. Another man informed me of bhakra nangal dam which was 60 kms apart... no ways. We instead take a tour around nalagarh town.. on foot. As we walk down the palace routes, we come across a tree (this is not the wisdom one), the tree indeed is an old one and houses facial sculptures of lord shiva and his better half.. in the open. I am left to imagine that may be the spiralling real estate prices across the country have pushed the gods out to streets, taking refuge under trees (dont know if it's an owned one or rented one). I can see some fresh offerings scattered in front of the almighty and some pigeons feasting on the godly food. Hindu religion is the only one that promotes sculpture worship, as all other religions follow a holy book. It is in hinduism that one gets to 'see' the god; hence eyes of all sculptures are often protruding out or very clearly defined... it is visual 'darshan' of the almighty that makes devouts clammer through inhuman terrains. The silence is broken by Gurudwara's loudspeaker, we are on our way to the gurudwara and their we pay our obeisances to the holy book. I often visit sikh sanctum sanctorums near my dwelling as well.

As there is nothing much to do, we confine ourselves to our rooms and indulge in passtime of an era gone by... carrom. After 4 nail biting rounds we call it quits, the score was 2-2 and we left it that. Next morning is our departure from the palace.

I did not get up early (resigned to the fact that my moribund life is about to dawn on me again) nor did i stretch my abdominal muscles. Morning is a rushed one (packing and all) and I can feel the city life is pulling me with towards it with claws. With a glint in my eye and a tinge of sadness in my heart, I gaze at the view from my terrace, my eyes searching for a figure in the vastness of 'nothing'. I thank god for giving me a cushy lifestyle that gives me an opportunity to 'critique' on unfairness in life and debate in general; for us in cities, we consider our part done by ending SMS's to number for a cause we strongly feel about. I start my engine and my two headed comet (or my time machine) is speeding me back into the city life that i keep running from... till the time I would take another meaningless break from work and go in search of nothing, but something has changed this time, for me, i believe the real cause of my existence... is coming soon.

---