Jamshedpur diary

                                                                    With the newlyweds 

For those of us northerners ensconced in the hills and vales of Himachal, and accustomed to making occasional sorties to Chandigarh, Punjab or Delhi, the prospect of a travel to the northeast evokes a sense of eager anticipation. My maiden October-end Jamshedpur trip (for a wedding though) felt quite so, even if tad less exciting than, say, travelling to the pristine and remoter Meghalaya or Arunachal Pradesh.

 A 4-lane highway (NH 43) cuts through the terrain between Ranchi and Jamshedpur. On either side are vast vistas of paddy fields to soothe your weary eyes, being cradled by mother nature to yield a bountiful harvest for the Jharkhand’s Adivasi-kisaans.  Far beyond these fields, at frequent intervals, a graceful curve and arc of a hill juts into view. Clad in dark green canopy of sals, mahuas, bamboos and a lot many other trees, these hills seem to be watching the human traffic go by with a wary eye, perhaps in fear of modern man and his machine. Proud and protective of their mineral wealth and forest-bounties, these hills are home and hearth, ritual and worship, hope and joy, song and dance, breath and life for the adivasis like Hos, Santhals, Mundas, Kharias... At the same time, sadly, these pristine wonders of nature are also prone to hogging the headlines for reasons that are best left unsaid.

The traffic to and from is not so heavy or daunting. The most common sight that meets the eye is that of large, multi-wheeled trucks ferrying gargantuan machinery or the industrial stuff mined by the big capitalists, rolling by with unhurried authority of power. The Subarnarekha river (a name literally worth its weight in gold!) that ripples by gracefully, affords only a fleeting darshan to a road-bound onlooker, perhaps shy and scared of us humans. Or does it race by being mindful of the miles to travel for the rendezvous? Hurrying also, because perhaps it has stories to unravel… stories of lore and myths her beloved adivasi people have invested it with? One wonders.

Far in the distance, the cab driver shows us a flaming glimmer of crimson red light. “There, that is the Tata steel plant,” he says with an air of resigned inevitability.

Jamshedpur is a planned city with good roads, avenues, boulevards and neat buildings. Trees and greens abound. Needless to say, Tatas’ writ runs everywhere so palpably that you can cut a slice or two from the air and pocket it.

We have been housed on a very nice-looking campus of ‘United Club’. The rooms are excellent and the staff endearingly courteous, warm and soft-spoken. There is a small library that entices you with its rich array of magazines, dailies and a prized collection of books. There is a cafe next to it, a bar nearby, a gym, and a bustling restaurant. For me at least it is almost like being in Eden: “Jannat ka nazaara…” as a Bollywood song eulogising “vaadiye-Kashmir” goes.

In short, the two-night stay therefore is cosy, relaxing, rewarding and comfortable. There is joy and jokes, mirth and gaiety as the wedding guests mingle with the hosts for the pujas, rituals, feasts and song and dance. It culminates in a ‘reception’ on the sprawling lawns adorned with the food stalls and enlivened with music. We join the guests, greet the lovely newlyweds on the stage, pose for pics (with practiced ease and smiles), enjoy the food and the ambience, and are back to the guesthouse late in the night laden with thoughts of our departure next day.

A melange of images of the wedding and the city, mill the mind as the cab zooms by and as the ‘Subarnrekha’ smiles a golden goodbye. However, of all, the most enduring and poignant image is that of a visit to a ‘R P Patel Cheshire Home’, Patel Bagan, on the outskirts of Jamshedpur. Its tranquil green acres are inhabited by about 75 disadvantaged girls and elderly women being looked after with love and care by the dedicated staff.  The bride’s entire family – her dynamic, energetic, multi-faceted brother Ashish Kapoor, in particular – have a long and intimate affinity with this home. The dance and song with those smiling and love-filled souls we all participated in, still continues to haunt, inspire and rekindle the spirit of empathy, love and kindness in our dull and fused hearts.

 

                                                                                

At Cheshire home with inmates

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