My trip to Goa with two……... Part 2 (pls read part 1 first)

To describe me as utterly shocked to the core is like throwing a dart as close to the bulls eye as possible. One can also describe me as spellbound and speechless partially because Mr. Manikant, who seemed to share my feelings, in his booming voice pounded questions at the driver who also looked shocked by the influx of so many queries. I guess Mr. Mohit was not shocked because he sat motionless, oblivious of what was going on with his huge tinted sunglasses on. May be he was taking a nap!

After the barrage of questions the hapless driver was finding it difficult to drive on the already damaged highway. The answers given by the driver did not elicit any new information.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” the pessimist resurfaced again. “It’s not as bad as it looks like, you still have your phone, internet and some books. They should keep you afloat for the next week” the optimist always seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

We reached the client location after travelling 20 minutes from the Goa-Karnataka border. The entry gate was unassuming. The moment we entered the factory premises, a cold breeze swept into from the car’s air conditioning on to my face, silence engulfed the vehicle different from the silence during the 2.5 hrs ride, a distinct peace settled into my heart, the surroundings could have inspired Robert Frost to pen something immortal. Involuntarily I reached for phone and to my horror I found there was no network. The cold breeze withdrew, silence during the ride took its rightful place again, the peace which settled itself on false pretences was kicked out and Robert Frost would not have dreamed of entering such a place.

“There is no network here!!” I blurted out.

“Only BSNL phones work here, sir” the driver said.

“I don’t use a mobile phone. People become slaves of mobiles.” declared Mr. Manikant.

“Only BSNL, shit man” I cried out

“Everybody has a mobile phone these days; they pay money to get enslaved, to loose their independence.” interpolated Mr. Manikant again.

“Only BSNL, are u sure” I asked driver, in a tone which in itself was the answer to the question I posed. The driver sympathetically nodded his head, to indicate that I was not the first one.

“Addiction……young people get addicted to mobiles. In my days the landline was only a mode of communication” concluded you know who.

First mode of transportation, now mode of communication. Before I could think of any other modes, I realised with yet another shock that no network meant no internet, since I used my phone to connect to the net. Despair…….yes despair would just about sum up my situation.

For the next three days, my elderly colleagues did what they did best and I did what I don’t do the best, which is, appreciating the greenery around, enjoying the tranquility of the place, soliloquizing, gazing at office furniture and stuff like that. At the end of the third day, while having my dinner, a brilliant thought stuck me – what if I can go back to Hyderabad (my home town) for the weekend, instead of travelling back to Delhi. The more I thought about it, the more plausible it seemed and before I finished my dinner, my spirits were on a new high.

Next day was beautiful. I could hear the birds chirping, experienced a gentle breeze and I heard Mr. Mohit talk. Just when things were going great, I was informed that Kapil was trying to get in touch with me. With a definite feeling of foreboding I dialed Kapil’s number. The long and short of the phone call, which you might have already guessed is not good news, is that ‘we’ have to go to Bhuj in Gujrat to another factory, for three more days.

What does a man do when his hopes are crushed and has to look forward to few more days of dread and horror? He sulks. And that’s what I did; I sulked for the whole day, succumbed to the inevitable and landed in Bhuj on Sunday morning.

What is the first thing, which comes to your mind when you hear about Bhuj. Yes….earthquakes! And what are the odds of an earthquake on Monday morning when I am fast asleep? At about 5 in the morning, an earthquake measuring 4.8 on the Richter scale (for the information of readers, no damage to property or life was reported) shook Bhuj. A nice ‘Welcome to Bhuj’ gift, isn’t it?

This client location had the almost the same characteristics of the previous one with one exception. Unlike Karwar which was endowed with ample greenery, Bhuj was totally dry. Only weeds grew in abundance in Bhuj. From experiencing a new high a few days back, my spirits plummeted to a new low during these days. But all was not lost; I could still go to Hyderabad this weekend if I was not sent to another godforsaken place, though I was not too optimistic about it and who can blame me?

My fear was not misplaced when Mr. Manikant cornered me on the third day at Bhuj and informed me that we were going to Jamnagar next for ‘only’ two days. Compared to all previous blows, this piece of news was taken by me pretty well; the primary reason being he also asked me to book the tickets for Delhi on Saturday.

Two days in Jamnagar were a mere blur; with ticket to Hyderabad (I booked a ticket to Hyderabad instead of Delhi) in my hand, I entered the airport on Saturday. Could anything go wrong from here? I asked myself. Looking back at the two weeks anything could happen, but it seemed that gods were in a happy mood over the weekend partying somewhere in the heavens.

I spent two days blissfully in Hyderabad and on Monday evening I was on the flight back to Delhi. What I was about to face in Delhi was nothing compared to the last two weeks. But that’s another story!!

Epilogue: I like the word ‘Epilogue’ and that’s the reason I am writing one and whether this is an epilogue or not I have no idea. When I landed in Hyderabad I realised that Mr. Mohit had never been with us in Jamnagar. Back in Delhi I was told that he returned after the trip to Bhuj.

My trip to Goa with two……..

Rrrrrrrr……..rrrrrrr…… my phone started vibrating. I was attending this extremely boring “induction” programme, conducted for new joiners by my employer, on a Friday. Torn between the desire to sleep till the programme ends and to get out of the hall, I stepped outside the hall wondering who’s the caller, since the number was not stored in my phone book.

“Hello” I said

“Hello Nrupesh, this is Kapil from Valuation. You need to go to Goa for a week with two others for an assignment.”

The phrase “Goa for week” transported me directly to the beaches of Goa, bikini clad women, water sports and what not. What Kapil said next I don’t remember, but I exactly recollect my responses….. “hmmmm”, “ok”, “achha”, “sure”.

Have you read Lemony Snicket’s “A series of unfortunate events”? Even if you haven’t read it, the title is suggestive enough. Little did I know that sleeping would have been a much better option than taking the call.

With the tickets in my hand on Saturday, I was all set to go to Goa. I got another call from Kapil and he explained me that I have to accompany an engineer and an architect and my work would involve only coordinating with client, which seemed to increase my anticipation multifold..... little work means more time to spare and that too in Goa. “It is too good to be true Nrupesh”, the pessimistic in me tried to warn me but I paid little heed to it.

I landed at Goa on Monday morning. My colleagues who were flying in from Coimbatore, were to join me in an hour. I was waiting outside the airport reading a book when somebody tapped me on my shoulder. I turned around and my eyes met an elderly man in a safari suit, who I vaguely remember seeing him somewhere, but couldn’t place him at that moment.

“Are you from ABC consulting?” He asked

“Yeah” I replied, a little puzzled

“I am Manikant, K.L Manikant” he said as if that solved the puzzle. I know that I am quite popular in Hyderabad and wouldn’t be astonished if something of this sort had happened there. But was I that popular in Goa too? Unlikely. The only dreaded logical conclusion I could jump to was that he was one of my colleague. He was rotund and spoke with authority which would make a lesser man cower behind the suitcase. Trusting my logical ability, I said

“Hello Mr. Manikant, I am Nrupesh. Where is Mr……….”

“Mr. Mohit is with the luggage trolley. Where is our mode of transportation?”

How the hell would I know where our “mode” is? I said I would search for the placards and then comeback in a moment. There were no placards with our names on and that I conveyed it to Mr. Manikant who was now flanked by another elderly person, who could be none other than Mr. Mohit. Mr. Mohit was exactly the opposite of Mr. Manikant, not exactly “Laurel and Hardy” types, but close enough. I was not mistaken when he greeted me, his “hello” was similar to a “hello” spoken from a flawed flute, as opposed to the booming “I am Manikant”. I called up Kapil and our “mode” was going to be a little late. We waited in silence for the vehicle. “One week in Goa with two oldies for company” snickered my pessimistic friend. “But its Goa dude” assured my optimistic pal.

Within 20 minutes, I was nestled in the front seat of an Indica with the relics in the back seat.

“How far is the hotel from here?” I asked the driver expecting it to be not more than half an hour.

To this question the driver replied somewhat confused “We are going to the Company guest house sir. Its in Karwar in Karnataka, 120 Km from here and will take at least 2.5 hrs because the road is not good as it used to be a month back”

To be continued…..