There are always two emotions associated with the last leg on a month-long road trip. One is of relief and elation, with a familiar bed to roll onto at the end of the day. The other is a feeling of "Oh ho, over, is it?".
We pushed off at 7.15 am from a cloudy Keonjhar, at 19 degC. Our car had been washed by a hotel staff, and was purring happily along. But NH43 upto WB border at Behregora - boy of boy! Simply horrible! Panna had started the morning with a backache which steadily got worse. I tried driving slowly. I tried dribbling. I tried cursing under my breath. Nothing worked. Reminded me of Alfred Noys's famous poem The Highwayman: "The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas." (Only 'tossed' is relevant here; the rest doesn't match - whatever). After Beheregora, where WB started, the tarmac had a continuous smooth finish.
We were blessed with very pleasant weather for the drive. We had no particular sightseeing to do today, and we had no particular fixed reaching time either. In fact, the later the better, which I will explain a bit later (which will make it better, right?).
Breakfast at Joshipur (9.00 am)
Joshipur is the northern entry point to Simlipal National Park of Orissa. There are also various waterfalls nearby. But today was one for the road, meaning only driving, no looking here-there. Food outlets ARE scarce in Orissa, and finding the 'Aryan Cafe' was a result of our gimlet-like vision. Some silent puri-bhaji later, we enquired after Aryan? Who is he? A young bearded chap, till then running around, raised his hand. This outlet belonged to him. He also owned a neighbouring xerox cum studio place. "But actually", he said, "I'm a short film maker." He makes social documentaries in Oriya and tourism films. Showed us some beautiful footages that he has posted on his instagram account. Aryan, you are so amazing! May God smoothen your path.
In fact, all through our journey, our breakfasts-on-the-road have let us meet great young people, usually children of the food stall owners, flying on their educational paths supported by their basic living parents, or like Aryan, a young enterpreneur, joyfully pushing his dream. Dignity of labour is evolving in India, no doubt about it.
Lunch at Sultanpur (1.30 pm)
We had entered WB when we decided to have lunch. A roadside dhaba, 'Joy Ma Kali Hotel', in fact a thali place, a bit run down, attracted the short straw this time. The owner was a very vocal Bengali guy who practically bolted us down to a table and rattled off his thalis, recommending his mutton thali to the heavens. I had a fish thali and Panna a mutton one. Being so close to home, we thought we could risk it. Cooking was okay, but what made us do a double-take was that the fellow charged 120/- for the fish thali but 300/- for the mutton thali. Till now, we had not found any tendency to gyp the customer at the dhaba type of places, but this last instance inside WB did not leave a good taste. Ah well.
The welcome party (8.00 pm)
We crossed the bridge at 4.00 pm (I was sorely tempted to say 'we crossed the bridge when we came to it', but desisted by sheer willpower) and entered Kolkata. We had an invitation already at Salt Lake (other end of town) from our IIMC batchmates, who wanted us to make a direct landing in the party space at 8.00 pm. The timing did not match, so we went home first, to a house without electricity because some maintenance work was on. Aah! A bed is as soft without power as with.
A wonderful welcome back party happened at Salt Lake, further embellished by a friend who had landed from Mumbai. Garlands, a video compiled within an hour - all made us feel very very special.
Epilogue
Thus ended our Dakshin Mahayatra. This was our second month-long road trip. There are many things we learnt - how to develop stamina, how to live simply, how to accept loose ends, how to sacrifice eating sprees (since we had to protect our tummies), and mostly, how to discover beauty whenever we look closely at anything. Do take a road trip, albeit a small one.
Till our next trip, ciao!