Sunday, September 20, 2020

Ganga Sagar – A pilgrim Voyage

 

Pilgrimage was never planned, it happened for me. Had been to various places with mythological connect all over India – a land of historical significance. Most visits had a story from the Indian epics or some of its branches or the dynasties that fill in our history books. Each beholds an era and either teaches one a moral lesson or help realize the essence of the place. With greying hairs feel these trips often help resetting values and virtues of life. Let me share a not so fresh, yet not so old experience.

Mahalaya was just over and city was getting ready for the Durga puja madness four years back. It was a Sunday and a Red-letter day for the country. November till January is the best time to visit, but we preferred a month early and in a week’s time decided to visit Ganga Sagar. Have read about this place in many Bengali novels and heard over national news clips. Every year on Makar Sankranti (14th Of January in general) lakhs and lakhs of devotees visit the place for heavenly blessings. Was curious but never had the courage to venture presuming the hardship of the transit would be tough to bear.

Ganga Sagar is down south of West Bengal in the district of South 24 Parganas. It is an island which experience the confluence of river Ganga and Bay of Bengal. In geography books that part of the map looks so cluttered with land and water bodies. Had never zoomed into these till we made this trip.

Googled all that I could and stood out to be the self-proclaimed guide to four elderly members who had the urge to make it happen. With old age comes anxiety that needs to be handled on time! We were all ready but the cab driver was late. Assuring that we would make up the lost thirty minutes delay on road (not sure how) we started making a move from the main city towards Diamond Harbour road.

It was exactly 6 am, when we stopped by the gas station before heading for NH12. We kept moving, leaving behind the management college at Jokha, the road side open market full of fresh vegetables and fish at Sarisha, the age old Sagarika lodge, advertisement of fairly new Punyalakshmi resort and the Ganges at Diamond Harbour… finally after two and half hours reached Kakdwip lot 9 – the Harwood Ferry. Decent crowd which had mix of locals and devotees. It costed us 8 rupees per person to get an entry pass for the ferry ride. A group of young men from Nepal and two officials from the local District office were co-passenger. With selfie stick the young team took lot of photographs of the mass and the nature. They were on a pleasure trip to India and had selected this spot to begin with.

Sharp at 9 am the ferry started. The water ripples were shining and we rode the tide. We managed to get some real estate. While waiting for the ferry, I had bought a coconut from a young teenager who stood beside the ticket counter. She had given a poly-pack which had a few more items, some which I couldn’t identify. She said I need to throw it in the Ganga to get blessings. More than blessings I thought she need to earn so I had got one. In the ferry realized that I can’t throw it. Glaring at the silver water, I sorted blessing for keeping the Ganges and the confluence clean. Dilemma of ritual and rational at times is very painful.

The young team posed to get themselves clicked in various posture combination while the government officials kept explaining his colleague some problem for a plan sanction. Same vessel, carried many minds from the same source to the same destination. Some enjoyed, some worried, and some remained oblivious. Such is life and its mood. I constantly toggled between the youthful action and the bottlenecked conversation. Suddenly realized the minutes arm had hopped 40 milestones. We were on the other side of the ferry. Google map was absolutely right!

Deal was struck at 600 rupees each leg. Five of us happily took our places in the Van. This was the third vehicle in the journey. The road was quite good. It was green and green on either side of the road with habitants here and there. In conversation learned during “Ganga Sagar” Mela (fair) in the month of January around eighteen lakhs of people visit and the roads are so flooded that footfalls result in overstepping. It was another forty minutes’ drive till we reached the ground that hosts the mela every year. One can walk from there, but we opted for the open vans which was a make-shift green room for next thirty minutes.

We dumped all our belongings and rushed to the river that looked more like the sea. The bank had fresh bricks and hence balancing the slope till the clay sand was easy. The fine clay better known as “Poli Mati” in the regional language, is believed to be a medicine for many chronic diseases. 

Devotees were spread across the river bank. A dip in natural cold water was relaxing. It had a conditioning effect – which I realized later. After a satisfying bath, all headed for the make-shift changing rooms on the bank of the river. In fresh apparels we sat on the wooden benches of the conch shell shop and had sweet water of the tender coconut. Visitors were experimenting but the shop owner was the best in blowing it the right way. It almost reminded me of the title song of the Television Mega serial revolving on Ramayana the epic. Well this old serial is my best lunch partner on these pandemic afternoons.

With contented mind we sat on the open van once more. The Temple – Kapil Muni’s ashram faces the river ghats, within a distance of around 200 meters. It was evident that investment were made to maintain and enrich the place to improve facilities for devotees. The best part of this pilgrim voyage was this temple. The temple is rectangular in shape. It had a few doors, however the main door was open for that day. One gets to see deceits in a row covering the long stretch of the temple floored with white marble. It was cool inside. Prayer was at free will. During the Makar Sankranti I suppose all the doors to the temple are opened and one can expect a huddle of devotees.

We spend some time in the temple hearing some history. How things went wrong for the King and finally how Ganges came down from the heaven to restore back life for generations to live. The healing touch of mother Ganges re-instilled life that stood as statute for long. The young priest offered us balls of sugar – popularly known as “Nokuldana” in our region as prasad. Mythology always offer some energy. With refuelled mindshare once more got up on the van. It took us back to the car parking lot around 500 meter from the temple. It was fifty bucks that we paid to that humble man who was a guide all through.

It was a few minutes past noon. Hungry souls had to munch some chips and Cadburys. The car was soaked in a sense of good feelings of having done something they wanted to do for a while. We crossed passed a local school where a cultural program was being hosted on the occasion of Gandhiji’s birthday. With that sweet tune in mind, reached the ferry point. The return trip started at 1 pm. The crowd was leaner. Learnt from regular commuters, that post 2 pm the ferry frequency decreases as river water starts ebbing. Early start is a key to this day trip.

Harwood ferry point was almost visible when it started raining cats and dogs. We got ready with our umbrellas – a must have for this trip. A quick call to our driver on that side of the river. We walked fast and he too was prompt. We had just reset ourselves in the cozy SUV that a T-storm hit the nature. The wipers kept moving and we opened up our packed lunch boxes. It was sharp 2 pm. The cold puri and the fried potato wedges tasted like never before. Sincere hunger turns all cold food warm. It’s all in mind! That was the lessons learnt from this pilgrimage of mine. Yes, off course we had some Sandesh too to say the lunch was over. We are Bengali’s at the end of the day.

God was kind, the storm gave way to sunshine – the one that one gets to see on a calm evening. The city was still in the wrap of after lunch nap when we hit the roads of the city of joy. We sensed the festivity in the air. Yes, pandals almost ready, with the biggest festival of eastern India – Durga Puja knocking the door. The wheels had covered exactly 200 Kilo meters when we got off at our residence at Dhakuria, in south Kolkata.

It was 5 o’ clock on the walk clock. The washing machine had started revolving to act on the laundry we carried back home. I sat with in the living room with a hot cup of tea. Between the sips opened up facebook … and then on you know what J

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