Time goes by, and even before you start remembering that you have begun to forget, you would’ve forgotten a lot already. At one time, I remembered the exact date, time and the year this happened. Today, as I sit to write this, except the hazy recollection of time, I have no idea when or which year this happened. All I know is, this incident had or rather has left me quite humble and hopeful that good still exists in this world.
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It was almost afternoon when I and my two friends Sach and Bads started for our journey to Gangavati from Hubli. We were all going to our friend’s Vishu’s house warming party at his hometown Gangavati and we had planned to visit him there. For a town that was not entirely accessible easily, it boasted of a thriving industry, and really rich people. So much so that this place had around 5 or 6 hotels (lodges) back then to host people from outside. Perhaps its closeness to Hampi had a lot to do with it, but nonetheless, lets just say that Gangavati was a small thriving town.
We had missed our bus from Hubli to Gangavati that afternoon, hence we had settled to our next best alternative. We would take the next bus to a town which was not too far from Gangavati and that station would have local connection to Gangavati. However things as imagined never went smoothly for the three of us.
First during the way, the bus got a flat tire, right outside a village a good half distance away from Hubli and another half still towards the town we were supposed to be. We knew we were a little short of time, and the last connecting bus out of the town would leave for Gangavati somewhere around 9.00 pm. Much to our dismay however, changing the flat tire took more time than what we expected to take – two hours. It was not before darkness that we started our journey again, just to travel another 50 kilometers and get stuck again in an accident – the accident brought us back by another hour. It was getting really dark, and we could notice a few clouds nearby. We really wished whole heartedly that it wouldn’t rain that night.
Except that it did.
By the time we had reached the connecting town, it was almost 11 or 11.30 in the night; a good two hours after our final bus had left for Gangavati. It had started to rain pretty hard, and the lights had begun to flicker in the small shops outside the bus station. We were still considering our options when someone called out to us and asked “Going to Gangavati? A tempo is going there right now, jump in – this is your last chance!â€
Without giving a damn who he was, we thought this was the best opportunity to get to Gangavati fast – after all as the locals told us, it was a mere 30 kilometers from the place we where. It had begun to rain a little bit harder now, and given our options was so limited, we decided to jump into the van – at 12.00 am in the morning, we were hardly expecting any traffic in the tempo.
But for a village with not enough humans to socialize, the tempo seemed to project a different picture – it was literally packed with people in every available place. And there were still three of us, none of us whom you would have called thin back then, to fit in, including the person who asked us to join the party. The trip of course would cost us money. Living true to the Indian tradition of “Swalpa Adjust Maadiâ€, we finally squeaked into the overflowing tempo – all I knew was that my hands had surrounded two other humans, while my one leg was on the shoulder of someone else. Nonetheless, it was a matter of just 30 kilometers and we couldn’t care less at that time.
However those 30 kilometers proved to be the nightmare drive of a lifetime. It had begun to rain pretty heavily, and considering India’s highways of just one lane, without any lights, the driving had become visibly difficult. After about 5 kilometers, suddenly everything went dark. Pitch dark. The vehicle had stopped completely; my first gut reaction at that moment was – Veerapan. Others had begun to shout inquring about the situation when the driver silenced everyone and said –“The headlights have stopped working!â€
At that moment, we knew we had to beat up our friend in Gangavati for asking us to endure such torture. Some ludicrous guy suggested that if some people had torches with them, they could use it instead from inside the vehicle itself to guide the direction. Much to our dismay, the idea was accepted. The tempo owner (the guy who let us in) did have a big torch, the oversized torch that you get in India, especially for night time and he decided it was the best way to get to Gangawati. What we didn’t know back then was that such a suggestion would be acted upon immediately.
The next part of the journey was quite scary to say the least. The guy sitting next to the driver was guiding the driver with the feeble light that big torch produced; luckily as the driver did mention, the road was one straight patch of land, and not too many turns. “The only risk†he mentioned was “Vehicles coming from other side may not spot us! And that too in the rainâ€
Someone suggested that since we could spot them from their “working†headlights, we should get off the road and continue the journey once the other vehicle had passed by – the suggestion seemed agreeable. During the course of this 10 km / hour speed journey, we stopped thrice to let others go by. At all three times, we narrowly missed the other vehicle.
On the way, some villagers in the tempo joked about how this was a usual affair for this tempo, while others started singing to keep up the spirits. Still others warned that this was a curse and we would be killed! And then some more who rebuked those thoughts and began arguing in high pitch voices. All of this, while the tempo was trying to reach Gangavati safely.
At around 1.30 or 2.00 am in the morning, the tempo did finally reach Gangavati, much to our relief. The rain had stopped. There was a lone auto rickshaw on the road which we took to the hotel our friend had given us to check into – except that he didn’t book any rooms for us; his words “who comes to Gangavati this time of the year anyways?!†seemed reassuring that we would find accommodation in this supposedly best hotel of the town.
However to my friend’s misguided calculations, the entire continent seemed to have come to Gangavati that night. As we tried to get a room into a hotel, we were told that some rich party was having a marriage 2 days later, and the entire hotel was booked by their party. The hotel manager also assured us that not only them, but all hotels in the town had been booked towards this gala marriage.
This had considerably dampened our spirits – we were dead tired by now, and would have even slept on the roads by then; however we decided to try our luck at another hotel half a kilometer away. At that place too, we were given the same response – the entire hotel had been booked for the marriage. Dejected, depressed and really irritated, the tree of us began walking back to the bus station (and we didn’t really know what to do – we had our friend’s number, but it was not the cell phone era and we didn’t feel like disturbing the friend’s family at 2.00 am in morning).
While we were walking by the side of the lonely road, three people on a single motorcycle passed us by. One of them turned around and looked at us. We watched them pass by as one of them turned back and seemed to speak something. The motorcycle stopped at some distance and turned around. It was quite a lonely street, and having already been through a lot, we expected worse. We reasoned – they were three, we were three; we could perhaps handle them if it came to that.
As the guys approached us, I knew I had begun to feel a little uncomfortable already. The motorcycle stopped in front of us, and the guy who was driving asked – “What are you doing here at this time of the night!â€
Sach gave him a recount of what had happened and how we were out of luck with rooms. The guy remarked – “I think I can get you a room. I know all the rooms are booked for a couple of days nowâ€. He asked Sach to tag along, while living one of his aides with us. They being perfect strangers, I was not very comfortable with the idea of breaking up, though nonetheless Sach was so assured by the guy about the room, that he left with them. So I and Bads, along with this stranger started walking again towards the hotel that they said we would get a room.
Half way down the distance, Sach came back again with the guy and told us the first good news we had heard since that afternoon – “We have a room! And it is the best hotel we had been firstâ€. Our joys knew no bounds at that moment. Finally, there was something to look forward to; we couldn’t wait to get to the Hotel and sleep, and couldn’t care less how this room came to us.
Indeed, we did have a room that night. And it was a great big bedroom with 2 beds, and one extra bed – for the three of us, with TV and cable and A.C; for a town of that size, it was a commendable hotel. After we checked into the room, the guys who gave the room to us bid goodbyes, and offered to meet up with us next morning, and advised to take rest.
It was then Sach told us about this room. The guys were the bridegroom’s friends who had come from different parts of the state for his marriage. The room which we stayed belonged to them. Sach remarked that something about us convinced those guys that we were not robbers on the road, but homeless people looking around for a room to stay – and they decided to help. Since they had the whole hotel to themselves, and half of the rooms were occupied by the groom’s friends, the three of them “adjusted†into many different rooms to give up their room for us. It took a bit of convincing on their part for Sach to agree to this idea, but given the state we all were in that night, he did take up the room for us; and not only the room belonged to us for the night, but for the next night too.
And since the hotel was booked by marriage party, we didn’t end up paying for it either. “Its all taken care of”, the guys who helped us had told us then. After the nightmarish night, we did sleep very soundly. Next morning, the first thing we did was to meet up those guys and couldnt stop thanking them; we all had tea later. After which we proceeded to beat Vish black and blue.
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This incident still remains etched in my memory because of those guys who helped strangers out of nowhere. The funny thing is, I don’t even recall their names anymore, but I do recall their deed. Many a times I have often felt that if I was in their shoes, I probably would not have helped someone like that in the middle of the night. I wonder why they decided to help us out.
After that meet, we never really met them any time again. One of the guys met Sach over dinner in Hubli, once after which neither we heard from them, nor they from us. After some months it just slipped away – and slowly it just became another memorable incident. Till today however, I still wonder who were those guys and why did they ever help us.
Maybe, they were just good people, and we had the fortune or running into good people, when it mattered most to us. That one incident has made hopeful that good does exist in this world, and you do find good when you need it the most.
