Punjab has always been fascinating to me. My father had told me stories of his time travelling through Rural Punjab in the 80s and his accounts of that period were always intriguing. So when two dear friends (and former colleagues) P&G, invited me for their wedding in Ludhiana, I decided to take my backpack and go. With some warm clothes and my kindle, I was off. My flight landed at Chandigarh Airport (which is actually in Mohali) at around 10 PM and I had about 6 hours until the departure of Hoshiarpur Express, my final connection to Ludhiana.
At the airport, the prepaid stand quoted an obscene amount of Rs. 800 for transfer to the station. Dejected, I opened Uber and to my delight found a willing driver within 2 minutes for about Rs. 300 change. But my delight was short lived. As soon as I got in he launched a volley of the usual scams on me.
“Why don’t you cancel the trip and pay me in advance?”
“Arrey woh corporate wala booking hain, can’t do”
“Okay, then I will not take the Uber route, the Uber route seems short but the road is not good”
“That’s alright, how much more will that be?”
“Just 10 km more”
“Acha, theek hain here is the pin”
“Oh but you have to bear the parking fare here, that’s not included in the fare”
“Arrey yaar”
This was not new to me. In Bangalore this is the most common petty scam that the harried gig drivers run. While ride hailing apps have made a difference to their lives, they also seem to be squeezed everywhere. Therefore, cutting corners at every possible opportunity has become the norm. Was information asymmetry the problem? Or would Namma Yatri type of open-source focussed apps make all the difference in the long run?
Lost in these thoughts, I didn’t realise when we left Mohali and entered Corbusier’s Chandigarh. The roads didn’t seem familiar but seemed quite well spaced. I was looking forward to grabbing some hot parathas and daal makhni by the many roadside dhabas that one normally finds by big stations at all hours.
When I asked Pandeyji, my driver, about it, he said that there would be nothing open now. I said it was only 1030 PM and he scoffed at my big city assumptions. He then went on to advise me against eating at these dhabas. He shared that he was actually a trained cook and had worked in the dhabas before. But ill-treatment, poor living conditions and malpractices in the kitchen forced him out. He went on to explain how water boiled with garlic is added to spoilt dal to make it taste better or how if you run out of subji/dal, then you can always mix all the leftover portions from other orders and heat it up nicely so that there is zero wastage.
“After that what happens in customer’s stomach is none of our business”
Inspite of all this, he still dreamt of opening a restaurant. Who doesn’t? — I thought to myself, my appetite fully dead by now. We soon crossed all the empty dhabas just as he had predicted and reached what looked like the entry of the station. He wouldn’t go right upto the main entrance because guess what – I’d have to pay his parking fees again. In no mood for being scammed further, I took my luggage and walked the last hundred meters.
I was eager to sit down and read my book. I had just got a copy of Travels with Charley by John Steinback and I was intent on finishing it. I had an AC ticket which allowed me to use the “Upper Class AC Waiting Room”, which was overflowing with travellers and one very noisy kid. I found a corner and plonked down on the iron bench. The hours passed slowly, the announcements of arrivals and departures in three languages kept going, there were fights and there was commotion but eventually the cold got the better of the occupants of the room. All of us made peace with each other and settled in for the night.
At about 3 AM, I stepped out for some chai – a tepid liquid served in a thick cup. I was only grateful that it was warm. I had another cup in quick succession and felt the cold air on my face. I went back into the warm room and tried to read a bit more. The warmth of humanity can be a source of strength in such times.
When my train finally arrived, a good 30 min delayed, I jumped in only to find my seat occupied. A body wrapped in the Railways issued white sheet lay on my berth — easy to be confused for a shroud except that this body was snoring. Before I could wake them up from their peaceful slumber, a TTE appeared out of nowhere and ushered me to another seat. I didn’t bother showing my identification nor did he ask for my ticket. I nodded at him and lied down.
There is something innately comforting about sleeping on the train. And more so when you lie down on the train berth, the gentle rumbling sounds and the rhythm of the coach swaying as the train makes its way to her destination. Maybe it is also my male privilege which allows me the luxury of not worrying about my safety when travelling alone. I dozed off like a child in a cradle, clutching my backpack, as soon as my head hit the pillow. I am sure at that moment, I too looked like a dead body covered in a shroud.
Within two hours I met my fellow wedding travellers at Ludhiana station and the groom himself — G, with his buddy picked us up and dropped us off at Hotel Luxuria. The night manager, surprisingly alert at this hour, ushered me into a room and I was out again, this time imagining the rocking motion of the train.
Over the next few days, I took part in the sombre ceremonies and the revelry of the families. The Shaadi ka Ghar came alive with colours, laughter, some tears and most of all the best food on the planet. Punjabi Food anywhere else south of the Vindhyas is a scam. The sarson da saag was thick and spicy, very earthy coupled with a generous dollop of makkhan. The paranthas were crisp and soft at the same time and the supporting actors to the stars – dal makhani, rajma and of course kadi pakode — played their part well. All this savoured with rice and pickle and some delicious sweets. I had to control myself a great deal in following hara hachi bu but ended up stuffing myself.
The gastronomical delights continued with the other ceremonies and I looked forward to more such adventures at Amritsar. But my plans for exploring Punjab further were dashed with one SMS from IRCTC. It said my train to Amritrsar, scheduled for the following day, had been short terminated at Ludhiana. The sms did not say what short termination meant or why they had cancelled my leg of the journey.
Local news revealed that there was an ongoing farmer protest at Jalandhar, which had grown more serious. The farmers protesting against the State Government on the highway connecting Amritsar had also now occupied the railway tracks at Jalandhar. Anticipating trouble, Northern Railways had taken these preventive actions. In my mind this was a classic issue of the federal arrangement of our nation. But without delving further into it, we decided to modify our plans and stay back in Ludhiana for a few nights more.
There was literally nothing to do — most folks said — and some of the daring ones even took the road to Amritsar. But we stayed back. There was plenty to do as we were to find out. Ludhiana is a genteel city. I didn’t see many tourists here which meant the usual tourist scams are not common. There are shared autos running across the main centres and most are agreeable to modest rates in case you want to do a ‘special’ ride. Most folks I spoke to were not very talkative, they would only answer our questions politely but not pry too much about my whereabouts. They would smile and reply with their signature haanji to most things and most requests.
This is evident at Ghoomar Mandi – a prominent shopping district of Ludhiana. Where small and big brands exist so comfortably. The shopkeepers are keen to make a sale but are quite honest. They bargain respectfully with a disarming smile and might even give you a generous discount if they like you. The juttis sold here are world-famous in Punjab.
At the Muskaan Punjabi Jutti store, the proprietor, a gentle sikh man introduced me to his friend – a dog who just visits when he opens the shops. Sleeps, eats and plays with him until the shop closes after which he goes off only to return the next morning. When I asked him about the threat from D2C brands and online retailers, he simply said:
“I trust my customers, I have a loyal base. This is not the stuff you can try online, you need to feel the jutti before you wear it, so I am not bothered”
“What about new markets?”
“I am happy with this”
There was contentment in his voice which I secretly envied. He even made recommendations to eat – Chawle ka Chicken (Chawla’s Chicken) and Jammu Puri wala. I thanked him.
Next morning, when our group set out unsuccessfully in search of Jammu Puri walah – the auto guy – Jaspreet took us to his favourite puri-chana place – Gopalji Pahadganj Chole Bhature cart. Over there we broke bread with office goers and workers who came there for their morning fix of hot chole and steaming hot puris. At the AC Market and Meena Bazaar, I came across industrious shopkeepers who delightfully told me that this Diwali, the shadow of Covid had finally lifted.
When I went out for a shave at the Airy Saloon, dressed in a kurta just before the wedding, the barber advised me to buy a nehru jacket from the shop next door as it was bound to get colder as the evening progressed. “You wouldn’t be used to this cold, I lived in Santacruz for a year so I know”.
At the hotel, the young front desk cum lady-in-charge – Nisha ran a tight ship with a smile on her face. The staff were courteous and often received tips with utmost surprise. In the hospitality sector, just being nice to your guests is good enough but they always went above and beyond.
In Ludhiana, there was peace. The rickshaw wallahs were not out there to scam you. Ola-Uber run well and most drivers don’t cancel on you, no matter the distance. The shopkeepers didn’t want to make a quick buck from the group from Bombay. The air was cold but the warm hospitality and food kept us in good spirits. On our last day in Ludhiana, we found a quaint cafe – Cafe Culture — which served good Blue Tokai coffee and freshly baked pizzas, we sat there and reminisced about the trip that had been.
It had been a good holiday in an unlikely destination after a few hectic months. It was a mini Samsung reunion and meeting many of my former colleagues meant a wave of nostalgia washed over us. Although I missed seeing the Satluj which borders the town to the north or the fields nearby or the lush campus of Punjab Agriculture University. Maybe I will return for them, maybe I won’t. But I will always remember Ludhiana for its generosity and kind spirited people. Thanks to P&G for getting married here and inviting us to be a part of their important milestone. Wish them a great future ahead!
