This is not a misadventure of a lunatic to make an appreciation of the poet Wordsworth or of one of his best known poems.This does neither have reference to that perennial plant nor of any stream flowing by a hamlet.
Extending my imagination and as well my idiocy,I prefer to consider 'Yarrow' to stand for a place any where in the world for which any one may have a longing to go,can visit any number of times and have the liberty to express the anticipation and apprehension,ecstasy,exultation and as well the deception&sorrow.Yarrow should stand tall as a unique place.
At the late hours of the night the engine chugged the behemoth and it started moving...first slowly and then gaining speed.Sitting on a side berth in the cool comfort of the air conditioned compartment I watched through the closed glass window,the vendors and book-stalls,the people came to see off their dear ones racing slowly and then rapidly in the opposite direction---an illusion but it was so real;.Finally the train left the platform and started heading towards its destination.
As if small,discarded feathers of a flock of joyfully flying sparrows wafted through the air and clouded my vision and my mind and memory started making a detour in the past.Like the feathers wafting through the air,more than a quarter century has taken leave of my life span.Same train,Same station to start from,Same platform,Same destination but what a difference.Apart from those years of our lives,mine and of my wife,missing were the majestic coal-fired Canadian Engine and its regal and sombre note,the shrill sound of whistle blown by the Guard which could be heard through the open window of a second class sleeper compartment, and as well the collection of cups of hot tea from vendors standing on the platform.......Missing were also the humane elements. After making the bed for my wife and perching comfortably on my berth I allowed my mind to have a free run through my memory.
Apart from both of us and the kid,my widowed mother and parents of my wife were there.Four berths were booked in coupe, ear-marked for ladies and old people for their safety and security,and the lower side berth just in front of the coupe was booked for me to keep a night long vigil--especially for the kid as he was sharing his place with his mother.The T.T.E.incharge of the compartment, after going through the ritual of checking the tickets,put out the light ,only kept the dim blue light on,closed the doors and took his seat by the side of the door.I was enjoying the breeze,coming through the window as well listening to the demand of the Canadian Engine commanding the attention of all and sundry present on the station it was whistling by through its brief,Regal,sombre note.
After some time I turned my attention to the occupants of the berths in coupe.All the three older people,who were on their way to the pilgrimage to Puri--the abode of lord Jaggannath were already plunged in deep slumber.But the kid and his mother were wide awake.Even with the mother by his side,a moving bed in a dimly lit 'room' was too much for him.He had brief acquaintances with train journey but it was never at night and under such circumstances.With open eyes and occasional deep breathing he was trying to make an assessment of the situation in his little mind without making any disturbance to others,an act which was quite befitting to his nature.I felt that this will continue through out the night and neither the kid nor the mother will be able to have a wink of sleep in the night.I took the kid from his mother,made a comfortable for him by my side and put him over there.Moving side wise,he clasped my legs with both hands and looked at me.Caressing his hairs,I softly told him to go to sleep as I will remain awake to keep an eye on him.He understood,felt secured and went to sleep.The train stopped at junctions,went past the smaller stations and steadily moved ahead.I watched them all,felt the embrace of those soft little arms and continued my sleepless vigil.
The tour was an excursion cum pilgrimage.The destination was Puri,in the state of Orrisa...the abode of Lord Jagannath along with his brother Balaram and Subhadra as well a favourite holiday destination for any middle class Bengali family...by the side of majestic Bay Of Bengal.
To me it was another type of pilgrimage.This is the place where my grandfather spent the major part of active life as a leading renowned advocate as well this is the place where my father spent his entire school life.I knew that our ancestral house had been sold out and I did not have any place of my own to put up except in a Hotel or in a Holi Day Home.But even then,I thought that I will be able to breath the same air under similar ambiance which once was inhaled by my father and grand father,will be able to bathe in the same sea water where once they had their 'Dips'and performed after-bath religious rites.The journey was long over-due and at last I could make it a reality.
With the day break,I woke up...no pair of soft hands of the soundly sleeping kid was there.Soon we arrived at the station and disembarked from the coach.But we did not have to hire four Rickshaws to carry the group of old,young and the kid,did not have the bewildered,bemused eyes of the kid looked up to his father overflowing with questions while perching comfortably,as usual,on his lap.We headed for the luxury bus of waiting to take us to the Hotel.
The bus meandered its way through the city,crossed the school where once my father kept himself busy with his studies,crossed the site where once our ancestral house stood,holding peace and prosperity,but now yielded under the hammer of Realtors.The roaring sound of ever restless waves of blue and frothing sea-water heralded the arrival of beach side road.
The very sound and sight started gnawing at the core of my heart.No old lady with silent prayer on her lips and folded palms on her temple was there,neither the affectionate,delightful old couple.More so I never had to answer to the gibberish,multitude of questions of the excited kid continuously shifting his position on my lap.All of a sudden I felt a salty taste on my lips.Without giving any alarm drops of tears rolled down from my eyes.The saline taste gradually becoming more and more bitter.
The bus reached the hotel.We checked in a comfortable suite...tea,breakfast,lunch,dinner followed.But nothing could remove that bitter taste.
I realised that I have revisited my 'yarrow',but only a 'Bitter Yarrow'.
