Saharanpur: A land of wondrous woodwork and ‘unwooden emotions’…

For me, to begin with, it was just one of those myriad trips I had to make as part of my professional assignments, in search of fulfilling stories which would gratify discerning and time-crunched readers… The early morning setting was perfect for an eternal romantic like my own self; with thick layers of fog adding more zing to the already frosty atmosphere in Delhi, but, unsurprisingly, I couldn’t savor the beauty of the nature as I had a train to catch, and, as always, I was late again… Having made it just in time, I settled down on the cozy chair in the first class compartment of a Dehradun-bound train… Preferring Chicago to Bob Marley, I let my mind snuggle down… Trying hard to hide the frustration of losing out on the window seat to a strange-looking stranger, I started skimming through the newspaper, albeit aloofly. With ‘I am all out of love’ by Chicago, hovering around in my ears, I began to feel more tranquil, yet sleep continued to stay away… When the train reached Meerut, a historic place associated with the Indian Rebellion of 1857 against East India Company of the British, my mind flew back to my school days and my beloved teachers who used to passionately teach us the glorious history of our great country. The next moment, I found myself standing on the soil (please read platform as I couldn’t have reached the actual soil as it was a bit far away) of Meerut and looking around with joie de vivre. I wanted to tell all my school friends, “Hey, you know where I am standing now? I am in Meerut, yes, the same place which used to and still evokes a sense of pride and patriotism in our minds…” But, unfortunately, they were all far away, most of them out of touch…

Four hours of journey and I was in Saharanpur, Uttar Pradesh. Immediately, my elation of being in a new place dipped, thanks to the filthy, stinking premises of the railway station. However, this sense of utter disappointment gave way to a sense of amusement the moment I stepped out of the station. What awaited me outside was a long line-up of bicycle rickshaws and I soon found myself mobbed by a group of untidily clad, dark-skinned, thin-framed ‘drivers’ of those rickshaws. I finally managed to escape unscathed from this maddening crowd and sneaked into a bicycle rickshaw parked a bit far. The young boy behind the wheel (read front wheel), with an unassuming yet expectant smile, pedaled his way through the crowded market roads, before dropping me in front my ‘destination shop’. Excited by the opportunity to flaunt my chaste Hindi-speaking skills, I initiated a casual chat with him and ended it on a high note, with a sense of pride, having successfully proven myself right and ended up paying him 20 rupees extra.


The rest of the day at this place, though not scenic by any standards, was an experience I would never forget. Humanity was the catchphrase of the day, as I was lent a helping hand by many a generous human being at various points. While some offered me food, some others willingly asked me to use their vehicles to commute, and the offers, of course, were declined with utmost respect, though I had to let them drop me wherever I wanted to go. I was overwhelmed because I didn’t feel like a stranger anymore in a strange place and I found that very strange. Though I had to endure the scorching heat and jagged roads begging for repair works, it was an enthralling day of memorable experiences. I walked around with my Canyon camera, copying various facets of life in that small town, and was engrossed by the extremely hardworking and humanitarian lot of people with simple lifestyles.The day, to my dismay, ended so abruptly and I chose to take the long walk back to the station through the main street of Saharanpur festooned with a series of shops on both the sides, showcasing skillfully crafted wooden handicrafts; an undisputed testimony to their unparalleled skills.

As the brightness of the day was taken over by the darkness of the night, I was ecstatic as I got my story ready in mind, but, at the same time, was a bit saddened at the thought of bidding good bye to a place and people who touched my heart deep inside. While the train was leaving the station, I, standing at the door, looked back and promised, “I will be back…that's for sure."

It would be extremely unfair if I dont thank my dear friend Aparna for instigating me to write about things other than love and relationships.. And I must tell you, after wrting this piece, I feel 'truly refreshed'..Thanks a ton my dear friend...