Brij Mohan Sharma
Life is a journey. And, in the course of this journey, all of us undergo variety of experiences- some sweet and some bitter, some memorable and some forgettable.
Here, I would like to share one of my memorable experiences with the readers.
Way back in September 1956, when I was serving in a Divisional Office at Jammu, I was deputed to Srinagar on an official business. After finishing my assignment, I hired a seat in a six-seater tourist van for my return journey.
When I boarded the van at Lal Chowk, Srinagar, I saw a tall and handsome young man of twenty or twenty-one coming towards the van accompanied by some friends who had, most probably, come to see him off. Since the van was ready to leave, the young man bade au revoir to this companions and boarded the van. He sat beside me on the two-seater chair, at the back.
After an initial silence of a few minutes, we introduced ourselves to each other, and got engaged in a tete a tete.
The young man belonged to Srinagar, and was a medical student studying outside the State. I found him very cordial, courteous and sweet-toungued. He spoke fluent English, Hindi, Urdu, Punjabi and, of course, Kashmiri- all with correct accent and pronounciation !
I used to smoke in those days, ( I was in my mid-twenties). I offered him a cigarette, but he politely declined, saying “No, thanks, I don’t smoke.”
While we were busy with our tete a tete, the driver of the van started loading extra passengers. Naturally, the bona fide passengers protested, but the driver turned a deaf ear. My colleague also gently impressed upon the driver to behave, but he was not in a mood to listen. He seemed to be a ruffian.
While we neared Pampore, my young companion saw a traffic inspector standing on the roadside. He signalled him, and the van came to a halt. My friend got down, and spoke to the Inspector about the highhandedness of the driver. As a result, the driver was challaned, and the unauthorised passengers dropped there and then.
It was about 10 am when we reached Qazigund, the first halt, in those days, for passengers to have their breakfast. There were many dhabas and fruit shops there. While I was heading for a dhaba, my colleague asked me to accompany him. He took me to the Dak Bungalow, and ordered breakfast for two. I still remember we had, on my choice, half-fried eggs with bread and hot tea.
Thereafter, we resumed our journey without any unnecessary stoppages. Jawahar Tunnel, at that point of time, was in the last phase of its completion. As such, we had to cross the Pir Panjal via the old tunnel, which was at the top of the mountain.
One could enjoy Nature’s majestic panorama from this spot. God has, indeed, been extraordinarily kind and bounteous in bestowing our part of the world with enchanting and enviable beauty. The far-stretching verdant valleys surrounded by lofty mountains and towering pines present an awesome and breath-taking sight. The soul-stirring melody produced by the whistling cool breezes loaded with fragrance of wild flowers and delicate aroma of pine trees breathe a new life into the viewer. For a while, he finds himself in a new world overwhelmingly ecstatic and far away from the uproarious cities and chronic conflicts of the world.
Journey, in those days, from Srinagar to Jammu or vice versa, by road, was a very tiresome and hectic undertaking. However, the present journey of mine with such a handsome and hilarious companion was, unbelieveable, most enjoyable. I did not feel fatigued at all.
My colleague, apart from relating to me some salient features of his academic pursuits, made me aware of the then prevailing political situation in the State, as also his own views about it, all in a most sophisticated and intellectually appealing manner, which enhanced my esteem for him.
While we were negotiating the serpentine curves of Banihal-Ramban road, my colleague told me that he would be getting down at Kud to meet and stay with his father for a few days and thereafter he would come to Jammu. He also asked me to procure a permit for him to carry five “seers” of desi ghee from Jammu to Jaipur. (we had not shifted to metric system of weightage then). The State Government had imposed a ban an export of desi ghee, most probably, to avoid its adulteration with dalda, which was newly introduced in the market. I promised to procure the permit for him. On my query asto where should I deliver it to him at Jammu, he smiled and told me not to bother about it. He would manage to collect it.
So, he got down at Kud, and I headed for Jammu. On my arrival here, I got the requisite permit for him.
After three or four days, when I reached my office which was located at Mubarak Mandi, I saw a tonga parked outside. It was heavily raining on that day, and the poor horse had drenched completely. (We didn’t have any taxis or autorickshaws in those days).
When I entered the hall, I was stunned, for a moment, to see my respectable friend sitting at amy desk and chatting with my office colleagues. Within no time, he had made all of them his admirers. I shook hands with him, and he gave me a warm hug. I handed over the permit of ghee to him, for which he thanked me warmly.
My readers must have, by now, guessed asto who this friend of mine was. If not, let me now reveal his name. His name is Dr Farooq Abdullah, our three-time former Chief Minister.
It was after twenty-one years, in 1977, that I met him again. I was then posted as Special Assistant to the then Chief Minister, Sheikh Abdullah, my friend’s revered father. Believe me, Farooq remembered each and every detail of our journey.
Even after his elevation as Chief Minister, I used to meet him off and on in my official capacity. He was always kind and coutreous to me.
Notwithstanding his recent political tantrums or intellectual gymnastics, he is, undoubtedly, possessed of a great personal magnetism. His distinct style of eloquence sauced with occasional humour, is a characteristic which compels the admiration of all.
(The author is a former Additional Secretary to Govt)
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