Amarkantak Diaries - Post #2

The easiest way to get from Mumbai to Amarkantak back in 1999 was to take a flight to Jabalpur and then a taxi for the balance of the journey.  But that would have been quite an abrupt transition – from a cushy urban existence to roughing it out completely alone in an unknown, somewhat uncharted and quite possibly inhospitable forest.  Plus, there was the Arun factor – we had planned to commence our trip from Indore, wander a bit through India’s massive central state of Madhya Pradesh, and then reach Amarkantak to start the Narmada trek. 

I thought quite a bit about it.  It seemed logical to start at Indore, where Arun’s sister Vinita lived. I dropped off my urban trappings and suitcase at her place, retaining only the bare minimum that I needed for the journey.  

My plan was to travel to Amarkantak the way most of India’s population travels – by passenger trains that stopped every quarter of an hour.  There happened to be a direct train from Indore to Pendra Road, the closest railhead to Amarkantak.  Back then, without online train schedules, one had to work one’s way through Newman’s Bradshaw, a thickish tome available at railway stations. Train 8233, Indore-Bilaspur Express Passenger, took a modest 21 hours and an astonishing 70 stops to meander through 900 kms within a single state.  To figure this out, one had to work through five different tables on well-separated pages of the Bradshaw – and excellent eyesight was mandated for the purpose.  Today, the same train – albeit upgraded now to a full Express with fewer stops, quicker average speed – can be looked up at a single URL https://www.confirmtkt.com/train-schedule/18233-INDB-BSP-EXP

I chose to travel by the lowest class – unreserved sitting-only – willing myself mentally to hardship.  Because I boarded at the starting point, it was surprisingly easy; I managed a window seat and had a ringside view of the exquisite vistas of Madhya Pradesh – forests, grazing pastures, hills, temple towns, rivers, lakes.  People came and went at every stop.  It felt like I was the only constant.  Fellow-passengers expressed surprise at my choice of extended route, train type and travel class given that there were faster, air-conditioned alternatives that I could have evidently afforded.  Most of them were locals – tradesman, farmers, daily wagers, hawkers covering less than a hundred km.  Their lives made for a fascinating tapestry far removed from my metropolitan milieu.  The things that concerned them – crop cycles, irrigation, multi-generational debt to usurious moneylenders, court cases over land disputes, runaway teens, the absence of hospitals near their homes – were completely different from what I would normally worry about.

Everyone had stories to share of someone or the other who had walked along the Narmada. One old lady said that only the bravest of the brave travelled solo on this journey; apparently only 1 out of 10 such ever made it back.  I smiled and told her that the tradition was to do it alone.  She responded, “Hardly anyone follows tradition these days.”  Another young man said that his father went off on this many years ago; the family believes he must have become an ascetic but remain hopeful that he will show up someday.  Apart from wild animals, there were natural hazards like slippery rocks, poisonous plants and mushrooms that famished pilgrims ingested inadvertently, wasps and hornets, sudden torrents, falling trees and, some averred, supernatural spirits that fed on stranded souls who lost their way inside the jungle.

The train made many stops and often lingered at tiny stations for seemingly unknown reasons.  People would get off and stretch their legs or relieve themselves till such time as the locomotive gave a warning whistle, but still waited to laggards to clamber on.  Yet, by the time it reached Pendra Road, it was just a couple of hours behind schedule and the sun was already somewhat low in the western sky.  In consonance with Murphy’s law, I disembarked only to find out that the hourly bus to Amarkantak had left just ten minutes earlier.  A goods truck headed in my desired direction offered to drop me off on the highway at the Balco Mine Junction, about 5 km from Amarkantak, if I treated the driver and cleaner tea and biscuits.

Two hours and a bit on winding roads in the Maikal Range, feeling a bit less spry after over 24 hours since I had left Indore, and I found myself alone at a fork in the road, dense forests all around, and a signpost that showed a Royal Bengal Tiger and stated firmly “Wild Animals Have Right of Way.”   The sun had almost set.  It was just a three-mile walk from here to the lodgings I had booked at Amarkantak.   

#amarkantakdiaries #SoloAdventure #NarmadaParikrama #trainjourney

© 2024 Anjan Ray