“Roads blocked!”
“WHAT????”
And then they
all started laughing.
I closed my eyes
and breathed. And in my mind, I undid all the planning those two words had
triggered.
They find it fun,
telling me such things.
They trick me every
evening.
And like every time,
their trick works.
But then my
fears are not totally misplaced.
Why, the other day,
the route had broken down at three places. And it had taken 7 hours to get a
green signal. And then, one day, I had reached the office late – having braved
a caving road and a minor transshipment.
But this last Saturday,
topped them all.
The route was
slippery through and through.
The Beas roared,
fumed and swelled.
The clouds
thundered and the lightning crackled almost all day long. A mighty tree broke
down. And with it came down, many temporary shops that had nestled under it in
good times.
The stretch
across Thalout looked beautiful but intimidating with the water about to rise
up to the road and the Rainsh Nala imitating a smaller version of the Niagara
Falls.
The black mounds of rocks, now, mere rubble,
greeted us at every corner near Hanogi Mata Nyaas.
The Jogani Mata
stretch was crossed under heavy torrents of water dripping from mountains
looming over the road. People crowded the temple, their eyes locked on the
cracks, watchful and warning of the final collapse. The muddy debris was
sliding down, fast, furious.
Between Pandoh
and Dayod, the PWD and JCB people were working hard, to keep the debris off the
road. Salute to their spirit.
Sambhal was the
nightmare. Two monstrous rocks had fallen and the route had been blocked off
completely. JCB’s had failed. And drilling machines were already sweating.
And, here my
writing fails me.
All I remember
is a rock pierced our car from one side, muddy debris hurled towards us from
the other side and ardent, loud prayers filled the air around me.
I later heard
they blasted the dinosaur.