Dil Chahta Hai, kabhi na beete ye mastile din!

This was my second trip to Goa, taken at a time when chips were down professionally and future seemingly not so bright. I was fed up with my job, fed up with my life and fed up with the damn system. I needed a break. And break it did: my monotony, my gloom, my despair and my negativity. Taken in company of my closest friends from college it was bound to be great. But there were logistical hiccups first, and ensuing drama but how it ended was divine. Let my provide a detailed account:

The Background

I and my closest friends, Harshivl and Vinay, had long decided that we needed a true vacation aka. DCH style where we could get away from the drab of our routine jobs and truly be, well, ourselves. Timing was mid-april as we had a long weekend(fri,sat,sun), and that this would have been the last opportunity to meet before we all flew away. Besides, us 3 amigos, I invited Ivon(my good friend my SAP) and Harsh invited Arko (his bong friend from Patni days). Besides these two we did not invite anyone else due to some reasons beyond readers comprehension. Anyways, Arko acquiesced but Ivon refused due to personal issues. The logistics of planning and travel were immense. Vinay had to come from Mumbai, Arko from Pune and myself and Harsh from Bangalore. All had to get the bookings done, and arrive within hours of each other on the stipulated day. First problem came from ticket bookings wherein we did not get any bus bookings from Bangalore. Next was whether Arko and Vinay had to come together, and to make that happen they had to co-ordinate. After lot of drama, running around, and heartburns, we finally did manage to get tickets : I and Harsh would travel from Bangalore to Mangalore via Bus, and from there by train to Margao. Schedule was tight and success fragile. Arko got his bus booking from Pune but Mr. Vinay did not. Infact till the last moment we did not know how Vinay was coming, we only knew how we would break his bones if he did not show his face on friday morning at Goa. We later came to know that he sat up all night in the general compartment of a train from mumbai and arrived at Panjim on an open ticket (well Vinay has always been like this)! Now comes the big adventure : My trip from Bangalore to Goa.

Ghat Pe Waat

In the paucity of any comfortable travelling option (barring air which we deemed too expensive only to regret later), we decided to take a detour via Mangalore. Harsh booked bus tickets on KSRTC bus till Mangalore from where we had to take konkan railway. The tickets were last 2 on that bus i.e the last seats, window side. On the D-day there was trouble in the city due to a veteran Kannada actor's death. Though I assured Harshivl that we'll manage amidst the riots but he had doubts till the last moments. He then delayed on and on, raising the confusion about whether we would go or not. After many calls (both local/STD) Harsh sahib finally seemed to make up his mind and started dressing up. This could have gone disastriously wrong had I not anticipated his laziness and taken Bijen's bike (near home) and gone all the way till his house in BTM. Had I waited for him to arrive in an Auto till my house, we definitely would have missed the bus as there were no autos near his house, with time running out. It was the first time in my life when I had been angry at Harshivl, and I made it known. Anyways, after high drama and paying 100 bucks for a 2km distance in an auto we managed to get to bus station just in time. Guys, this so far was just the beginning of our woes. We were quite thrilled to be able to commence our journey, which manifested in our yapping incessently during the bus ride. We laughed, snickered, gossiped and mouthed choicest abuses ever known to man, as we took full advantage of sitting at the back. Almost all of the people in the bus were sound asleep with some giving dirty glances from time to time to let us know what they thought of our charade. Little did we know that fate would avenge them in short time. Just as we hit the section of road called ghats, the driver went berserk and drove at such ferocious speeds, cutting sharps corners, that it seemed like a roller-coaster ride more than a bus trip. The altitude, curves and narrow turns added to the effect. We? We both had shut our mouths completely and were holding on to dear life. My innards had jumbled themselves up in intricate patterns inside my belly, and even Harsh was not comfortable. When I couldn't hold any longer, I puked. I puked, and puked and puked, my head stuck outside the window like a poddle taking a ride in a swanky car (yeah, even the tongue had come out!). Harsh tried to comfort me by rubbing my back when I was puking, but didn't say a word. I tried chattting up a bit to lighten the morose atmosphere, but Harsh maintained a stoic silence. It was when he explicitly mentioned that he was in no mood to talk that I understood that he was waging a lone battle with his stomach and was not prepared to yield even an inch. Remembering his face, his upright posture, rigid body, and mouth sealed shut, makes me smile even to this day. But to his credit, he won the battle, he didn't puke. We were in such a hurry to get out of the bus that we got down at a wrong station, and then had to hurry to the actual railway station amidst high tension. This said, the rail ride was uneventful but absolutely tiring. After that the journey from Margao station to Margoa bus station; from there to Panjim, from there finally to Calangute where Arko and Vinay had parked their royal asses. Tempers were running high at that time, and we almost wanted to kill Vinay whilst he loafed on the beach making us wait. So, all I remember of that day was the journey from Bangalore to Goa; so exhausting, unwholesome, eventful, and mighty unbearable. We slept like a dog that night, trying to forget the nightmare that was that journey. Later, Harsh coined a simple but apt term for our ordeal : "Ghat pe waat lag gayi".

to be continued ...