The Seven Rapid Conquerers

Japter 1- The Plan

Hmmm, on your marks, get, set, WAIT. ‘Where did we say we were going?’ Twelve heads don’t always function in congruence. Actually they never function in congruence; one of the many reasons that the dream trip we kept planning met its RIP at the conception stage itself.

With three babies off to the sweet land, one immersed in books and a reluctant one the secret seven set off to partly fulfill the mission. Of course it pained to be reduced in numbers but then sometimes things just don’t go the way we want them to.

Jaipur/ Dharamshala/ Agra/ Rishikesh- tippy tippy top which city do you want?! (I am amazed we actually came up with plans to each place like professional travel agents) Google be the hero, mostly. J

Not to bore you with details- dreadlocks (Rishikesh= hair of a rishi) prevailed!

Japter 2- ‘Bus lelo bus!’

I am not kidding. ISBT Kashmeri Gate is one place where tickets to buses are sold like veggies in a market. I won’t be surprised if they come up with an ‘Ek ke saath ek free’ offer! I don’t remember seeing so many buses ever. After getting lost, playing ring-a-ring-a-roses we saw our dream bus calling us- ‘Rishikesh Rishikesh’

Yes, we were now on a bus. Packed. Excited. The trip was finally happening. I think even before we sat down we started eating. Gluttons we be forever.

Seven hours of a rickety ride, which included talking, laughing, periodic shushing at the realization of humanity around, eating, absolute nonsense situation analyses and bouts of sleep, took us to arms of our Heidi-fantasy. – Mountains. Shimmering water. Blue Sky.

Japter 3- Dine and Dance

As fancy as it sounds, let me burst the bubble- dine= a huge loaf of bakery bread with cheese spread that we generously spread and dance= un-coordinated motion of limbs to old shady Hindi songs.

Seven people in a four bedroom suite can bring the roof down literally. Sleep brought dreams of ‘rapidly’ (thanks to Nabesh’s geography skills) paddling over the white sparkly water.

Well, there isn’t much to this chapter, so let’s proceed to the one that has the defining moment.

Japter 4- Bisht is the Best

‘Who all are coming?’

‘Seven girls.’

‘Oooh. Age-group?’

‘Early twenties’

‘Ahaaaa. Please wear shorts and come. No sarees and salwars.’

‘’

Obviously we started off by thinking that he belonged to a please-expose-legs-for-us-to-see category of men. Braving it, we marched forward after having breakfast in yes, our shorts.

The journey from the motel to the Bisht office was out of a ‘trip to the alps’-guidebook. Motorized Heidis running down the hills we clicked every turn and rock. Our dream was closer to accomplishment. The excitement sky rocketed when we saw our beautiful orange raft waiting for us.

I must admit here that Mr. Bisht did turn a few spirits wary with his like-you-know-who’s hmmms.

‘Have you girls rafted before?’

‘No.’

‘Hmmm. Know swimming?’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Has anybody fallen off the raft while paddling?’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Has anybody died while rafting?’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Ok, girls. Be careful. They’re your guides.’

Anyway, we went to the start point and forgot everything. The water was inches away from us and the mountains a few feet. We were in heaven. All padded we were ready for our battle. After preliminary instructions we sat put on edges, literally with our paddles.

‘Forward’

‘Stop’

‘Back’

Trust me it’s not as easy as it sounds.

Now I really can’t put our experience of crossing the rapids in words. It’s something everyone should feel. So, please go raft for yourself.

But what can be written about is our jumping into the cold Ganges, swimming , floating into eternity (special reference to Tuki), bumping into each other, tangling of ropes (Nabesh, Kazoo, Radhoo) and rescue missions (Mufasa and Fra).

Excerpts from the water conversations:

‘Where’s Radhoo?’

‘Under the raft.’

‘Chaudhary I am coming.’ (paddle paddle paddle!)

‘I want to stop drifting.’

‘I want to be near the boat.’

‘Who’s leg was that?’

‘Who’s that blue helmet bobbing?’

Everyone did finally get into the boat. Goal achieved.

Next on the agenda was cliff jumping to which initially only one consented but later pulled two more brave souls. 22 feet of free fall into the water- I won’t say more.

Drenched, dirty, exhausted we emerged victorious after two and a half hours. Pulled our raft up on shore and refueled with a banta each.

Japter 5- The Return of the Gluttons and Shopaholics

Bathing in glory the stomachs rumbled. Famished we were. After changing we walked to a nice restaurant to satiate ourselves. Boy, did we eat? No we hogged.

Our food stories don’t end with a meal. We are futuristic people. Bakery being everyone’s weakness it was obvious we’d buy everything he had. Apple cake+ banana cake+ chocolate cake.

‘One piece each?’

‘Nahi Bhaiya. Poora pack kar do.’

Loaded with tuck we drowned in the hippie-ness that surrounded us. Each bought a souvenir to commemorate our historic trip.

Japter 6- Jhula + The End

Ram, Lakshman and Ravana (soon Sita as well I assume) have jhulas named after them. It’s quite similar to the roads that are named after politicians. We saw all three and treaded over the two brothers. The water was at its shimmer-best with the sun setting, giving all its light to the water to absorb.

While two of us were blessed by the goo(d) others found peace in the distant humming of bhajans.

After climbing a 50 something stairs to get to the road for a tempo, we sat and left for the last stop- the bus stand. However, our adventures never end the expected way. On our way we passed by a bus whose driver yelled ‘Dilli Dilli’. That’s it. Tempo stop. Fly. Miraculously hop into the bus.

The journey back had its own adventure stories that we’d rather keep etched in cognitive history.