THE INDIGO IMBROGLIO

 THE INDIGO IMBROGLIO

The thousands (nearly 60,000 as of now) who were meant to fly high are today literally grounded—ironically on World Soil Day—not for any environmental cause, but because they are stranded in Indigo hangars across India.

One of my colleagues, travelling with a student to take part in India International Science Congress, gets her flight from Doha to Delhi 6 hours delayed, only to realise that her Chandigarh connection is cancelled. But they are able to move ahead by taxi!

The voice of the middle class is loud and clear; the media amplifies it instantly. The plight of these thousands is rightly visible and heard.

At the very least, Indigo could show courtesy by cancelling doubtful flights in advance, giving passengers

the freedom to look for other options.

And the pity is that, unlike any other sector of transport, here the law of demand and supply appears to be having a totally free operational domain - with no norm to restrain extortion. This is evident in this incident, with fares going up 5 to 6 times, and even otherwise, during the festival or tourist season.

Now contrast this with Indian Railways.

On 27 November, 14 of my colleagues travelling from Sitapur to Ghaziabad by an express train scheduled to arrive at 3:45 pm finally saw it roll in only at 5:00 am the next day. They reached their staff development programme 12 hours late. Their long wait was stretched in small, hopeful extensions of 30 minutes to 2 hours. Nearly 1,000 passengers were affected.

Yet there was no news report, no outcry, no apology from the General Manager or the Minister—not even an acknowledgement. It is simply taken for granted that “this is how it is.” Hopefully this is now becoming more of an exception than the rule.

To be fair, train passengers still have options: they can step out, walk, take a rickshaw, hop on a truck, or catch a bus—even after boarding the train—if they really want to. But when our trains upgrade to Western standards, even these small freedoms will vanish. Centralised control and automated doors will never allow the typical Indian commuter’s instinctive flexibility.

THE RESILIENT INDIGO

After those tempestuous four or five days, when the travelling vocal middle class of India was really put to the test, revealing the monopolistic and exploitative free market, where the state can be a passive partner, I ventured to test the acclaimed Indigo again. My flight to Lucknow was booked just one day prior to the explicit eruption of the crisis. My mail would yield an automated response of appreciation followed by a do-not-reply mail with an advisory to go to the website, which will not be responsive, or  2 phone numbers which would stop after stage 1 or 2, or see WhatsApp recourse,, which would make you mad by asking you to check the website.  The website, after logging in would indicate 'you had been away for a long time'. The mail would cite your complaint reference and indicate that the case was closed. This repeated in cycles the next 5 days, with my request to either refund or assure that the flight would take off fell on deaf ears. Meanwhile, if the flight were to be cancelled I had few options with a packed week of engagements, which all depended on this crucial flight. AI and Spice Jet - all appeared extortionists, differing only in grade. However, on the 8th, unprompted, I receive both an email and a WhatsApp message: your flight is cancelled. You could opt for a full refund or a rescheduled flight the same day, two hours after the cancelled one.  I opt for the latter. WhatsApp assistance of Indigo came in handy when the website failed again. But a boarding pass would be issued immediately only if you have in for the next stage of extortion - of choosing seats ranging from 500 Rs to 3200 Rs.  Fortunately, this time you could opt for random allotment, only that you are punished by having to wait till 4 hours before the departure to get the boarding pass by email and WhatsApp. Finally, it did arrive, just about 3 hours before the departure time. At the airport, it all appeared normal. The flight was almost full. The passengers were all seated by 7 pm. Some movement was observed around the scheduled time of 7.25. But finally, it was 7.40 pm when it finally took off. All the same. It did touch down by 9.42 pm. More than 10 minutes ahead of the scheduled time. And just in another 10 minutes, my baggage also arrives, making it possible for me to catch one of the last trips of the Lucknow Metro!! Wow! That appears to be bouncing back. Real resilience! Hope that happens with adherence to the prescribed safety measures, both for the commuters and for the staff!

US trip - 2025

Greetings!

Summary of my trip to US: 

Lucknow - Delhi - Istanbul - New York

New York - Sacramento - Los Angeles - Houston

Houston - Mexico - Guadulupe - Guadalajara

Guadalajara - New York

Maryland - Baltimore - Alumni Gathering

Rhode Island - Providence - friendly visit

Cincinnati - Dayton (Ohio) - Chicago - New York

Details for those who have time and energy: 

This was a prolonged peregrination. I also note that this is my 25th year of visiting the US. The first was the longest one, way back in 2001 - from May to December. I experienced one of the most traumatic events of the modern history of the US and the world, the terror attack on the world tower. 

I set off on Sat July 19th night and arrived at Lucknow airport 100 kms away using public transport. I was well in time for my flight to Delhi. My plan to go to Delhi by bus was cancelled, as it was relaibly leanrt that the government sponsored kaavad jatras were likely to create major road blocks. Delhi - Istanbul, almost 5 hours at the IGA lounge thanks to a priority card in possession, then another 9 odd hours to New York, JFK. Indigo the first phase partner was generous to provide one warm vegetarian meal, with no entertainment whatsoever for the long 7 hour flight.  But the Turkish people, though not any that pleasant, were a bit more generous with food and entertainment.

No major questions asked at the immigration, though there was some unprecedented scene (for me) resembling the last judgement, where the sheep would be separated from the lambs, here, the. citizens being separated from the visitors! I was received at the airport by my 'sponsor' and friend, Fr Liju, formerly, my junior in CMI, and presently of the diocese of Brooklyn. O was to be at his parish of St Theresa of Lisieux (Little Flower) for the month of August as a resident.

There was an apartment all set for me in the rectory. As Turkish people had fed us well, I was soon in the bed.

Next day, Fr Liju briefly introduced me to the church routine and I took part in the daily morning prayer and mass at 8.45 am.  Soon I got ready and I was dropped off at the airport by Fr Liju for my trip to Sacramento, CA. This was a long trip - 2 hours to Detroit and another 3 to SA. There, the parish priest and the CMI cultural centre in charge Fr George Thadathil, received me with the young CMI, Fr Bibin Padiyara. We had some food - typical Malayalee kappa & meat, and then retired for the night. As per my request Fr G had arranged Mr Roy, a former CMI trainee, to take me around to San Francisco. The ride was good. San Francisco, especially the classical Golden Gate over the Pacific, was misty and cold, and I caught a cold. But relished the bridge. The weather, the view, and we liked around - enjoying unique flora and avian fauna. At the town, we had a typical British lunch of fish and chips. 

We returned. Had some food, and then I was dropped at the Greyhound bus stand, as suggested by me, making it comfortable and affordable for all concerned. Fr George took my ticket to LA and also gave me some pocket money. 

The bus ride was fine and the lady who was at the wheel for the fairly long trip of about 400 miles, reached us before time. I was received there by Bella and Garry, faithful senior parishioners of Fr Sebastian Vettickal. They took me for breakfast, which was heavy, but to which I did full justice. 

Then we arrived at the rectory - I was glad to see Fr Savience, my predecessor at SHC, with his brother there. He was on a personal visit. We exchanged pleasantries. He was to leave that night itself. 

 After a while, Sebastian arrived, he is negotiating with some problem with his heart. We were meeting after a long time - almost 30 years. According to his arrangement, Bella and Garry came again, took me aaround the Botanical Garden, the Hollywood area, and then a fabulous exhibition of a 18th century painting of Crucifixion and a modern sequel of Resurrection - something really worth seeing. We returned. We had some dinner. And next day, after the mass, I was taken to a bus station, from where buses ply to the airport for a very reasoanble rate (USD 12). This is a great arrangement to reduce traffic and the burden on the commuters and their friends as well.

I flew to Houston, where Biji and Aniyan came to receive me. It is a one hour drive. At their home in Sugarland, familiar to me from several visits now, Aleena had prepared some food in spite of her busy schedule of job and volunteering in the Church.  It was salmon and shrimp! Good effort, though there is room for improvement. 

The next day, I was taken to St Thomas Aquinas by Aniyan and I had meetings with the acting President, the vice President for international affairs and Dr Beena, the head of the business school, who is the daughter of the erstwhile chief engineer of our Rajagiri Engineering College. Later on, I attended the regular mass of the campus at 1200. It was St James' Day. And then I was treated to the classic texan steak at the very famous local restaurant, and sent off with promises of follow-up.  In the evening, Palakkappillil (Kiliyatt) Paul hosted a local alumni gathering.  Though the food was good, the giant steak of the afternoon would not let me eat anything more. The gathering was cordial and informal, and I got to know them better. The next day, Brigit also gave me some gifts, and they dropped me off at the airport. 

MEXICO - GUADALAJARA - IFCU I flew to Mexico and waited almost 4 hours for my colleagues from Christ University - the VC and the in-charge of the international office - to arrive. The local resident Malayalee, Augustine, introduced to us by Fr Jobichan was there and was very obliging. He took us too the place of our residence at the seminary of the the Scalabrianos. Fr Rector received us well. We retired for the night in the comfort of a religious home, and woke up to offer mass. 

Guadalupe: After a breakfast, we were led by Augustine to the famous (and perhaps, the oldest) Marian pilgrim centre of Guadalupe, about an hour drive from where we were lodged.  The history of its development into a pilgrim centre is interesting - with an apparition to a farmer/shepherd Juan (pronounced Huan, meaning John) sometime in the 17th century. After much testing the bishop was convinced of something extraordinary there, and it got established as a Marian centre, with Mother Mary in a typically Mexican attire. 

Pilgrims throng in thousands, and there are masses - one after the other. The devotion is palpable. There are groups coming from different parts of the country or the continent, and camping on the premises, reminding me of the melas of UP; the drastic difference seen in cleanliness and orderliness, in spite of the rush; and very minimal littering. 

We were invited for the birthday celebrations of Augustine's son - and were the chief guests.   The next morning, we left for Guadalajara (pronounced gWadalahara) about 500 kms away.  There we were received by a deacon Lalo of Scalabrianos, who is to be ordained this year. While the Christ University people were lodged in a top hotel, I chose the seminary accommodation of the Scalabrianos, as the hotel accommodation would have been around 75 to 100 USD per day.  

The assembly of the Catholic Universities began with a simple inaugural function - 2 cardinals and 3 bishops, besides several other Vatican dignitaries. It was followed by solemn Eucharist with the university choir making a powerful impact. And then there was cocktail dinner by the host university. 

The conference was costing me about 850 euros, which was funded by Bijnor province, for which I work now. That was gracious of them. This included just the conference and accompanying programmes, and meals on the site.  It amounted to Rs. 87000 in Indian rupees. The cost of travel and accommodation, extra. Perhaps, this is the last time I attended this gathering.  I had always been critical of it, saying that it was not being 'catholic' but rather an exclusive club - highly Eurocentric. But those criticisms had fallen on deaf ears. 

The five-day gathering was engaging with presentations, reflections, sharing and also election for a new committee. Now, Christ VC would represent Indian Catholic universities (read, Colleges) on this board. Prior to him, I was representing them.  There are some 400 Catholic Colleges in India.  One special feature of the programme was an outing to Tequila (a region which makes the popular Mexican alcohol - Tequila. It is made out of Agave - a thorny desert plant, resembling pineapple. It grows large enough to have a stem weighing 30 to 40 kilos in about 3 years. Shorn of all its leaf-blades, it would resemble a huge pineapple, and is called its 'heart', which is cut, dried, processed to make Tequila).  We were introduced to the drink and had a fabulous lunch on the factory dining hall. 

St. Therese of Liseux Parish - Brooklyn, New York From there I hurried back to Brooklyn on August 2nd morning, and managed to reach the rectory  flying across the middle of US for almost 3 hours.  Next day onwards, I remained practically stay put there - regular mass at 9 am, confessions on Saturday evening, sick calls and annointing as and when required, baptisms - pre-arranged, and some funerals. 

My friend Sajan made his bicycle available and that kept me mobile.  The beautiful Prospect Park was just 3 miles away, and in that there was well laid bicycle tracks for bicyclists.  Good many of the city roads in New York have provision for a bicycle track, and it is safe that way. However, I still found it safer to ride a bike in Kochi and/or in India than anywhere else.  As we are a free country, and since we don't follow any rules, it is easier for us here😜😜. 

We had a gathering at Manikath Sunny's place of former SH students and a few turned up. I went there by bus after the mass, and returned by a late night bus to arrive well in time for the next day's mass. 

Dayton of Wright Brothers I had a vague idea that there was something to see in Kentucky - other than the fried chicken. There were quite a few CMI brothers working there, however, my only available free days of Saturday and Sunday would be the busiest days for them. Hence, I switched to a Plan B without delay. There was our alumnus, Mr Bejoy John, who had welcomed me that side and promised to link me to a Catholic university in his neighbourhood. He was quick to respond and instead of my proposal to drive from Dayton to the Chicago meet, he decided to fly and booked ticket for me too. So, winding up on the 5th of September with the usual mass, followed by a funeral mass, I rushed to airport - and with a stop over at Chicago Midway, proceeded to Cincinnatti, where I was received by Bejoy and his family member Cuckoo (a mix of Golden terrier and something else); a very very friendly and intelligent dog. The next day we spent in exploring the feats of Wright brothers and other Dayton pioneers. Visiting the original bicycle workshop of the brothers from where they flew to the heights of atmosphere. Then we visited the Airforce Museum - a great show of the growth of air defence from the earliest to the latest times. It is worth exploring for a whole day!! 

The United flight to Chicago insisted that the only handbag be checked in, for USD 40.00. However, there were just 5 passengers, and the only air crew on board decided to treat all of us as first class passengers. Offering us a free drink and refreshement on the house during the 40 minutes flight. 

Chicago: The Chicago gathering was all the more enriching thanks to the efforts made by the senior alumnus Herald, and the young alumnus Allen. Allen's whole family was involved and was almost overwhelmingly hospitable to me - though I am unused to any such niceties. But I had no choice. Allen's excellent PR work led to a good coverage on the media. The small programme got some sponsorship as well. The gathering was informal - all those who wanted to share something had time for it. Then we had a singing session with two of the sponsors from IDF (India Development Foundation) regaling the audience with their talent. 

Pope Leo's Chicago Neighbourhood - Dalton The next day, Allen and Herald took me around - on their plans, I had to cancel my planned visit to Fr John Kizhakkedan (hope you all remember him), who had established a scholarship for SH in my name.  We visited the childhood home of the present Pope Leo, a very ordinary, almost run down neighbourhood and home. Now a black settlement in a very neglected part of the Chicago suburb of Dolton. His parish church of St Mary's was found dilapidated and abandoned.  His home has been given a facelift after he was elected pope.  People have started visiting the place. There is a friendly policewoman on guard. The next door neighbour, Dana, who confessed herself to be an Evangelist, has taken upon herself to host the visitors, providing them directions, and for those who need some refreshments for the usual price. She also gathers prayer requests and get them blessed by some priest coming to visit the place. While the visit in itself was not of any interest to me, the possibility of a backward neighbourhood developing and becoming a better place thanks to someone from that neighbourhood being elected Pope is appealing to me. 

Broken Wagon Bison Farm Then we went to visit a farm rearing the Great Buffaloes (Bisons) of the 

native Americans.  The species almost on the verge of extinction due to the exploitation by the colonisers - killing millions for their skin, and also as a political strategy of depleting resources of the natives, so as to force them out of their localities - saw a great come back, thanks to the conservation efforts from the early 20th century including those by the leaders like President Roosevelt (himself an avid hunter turned conservationist).  Birde's Broken Wagon Bison (BWB) farm, which began about 20 years ago with just 4 cows, have now more than 120 animals.  This is the American national animal, and almost a sacred animal for the native Americans - however, that does not prevent them from rearing them and eating their meat!! The souvenir shop offers the skulls of buffaloes with horns, ranging from $75 to $200. They were generous enough to take the three of us on a farm wagon to the farm, where we remained amidst the herd of buffaloes grazing on the 160 acre ground - some of them really huge.

 

Heartian Family of Allen: After an Onam meal at Allen's home,  with kids of Allen's sister Anu (also our alumna - their maternal Grandfather, maternal uncle etc were also Heartian alumni) becoming unusually friendly with me, I had to bid good bye. Allen took me for a night ride of the down town around the River Chicago. I posed for a picture at the Art Institute of Chicago, where Swami Vivekananda made history by presenting the greatness of Vedanta to an American audience.  The street is named after him. 

On my insistence, Allen drops me at the airport. Flight is at 6 am, and they would not do the security clearance before 3 am. So we wait. Security cleared, the rest of the matter is normal.  At Laguardia, I rely on public transport - bus to subway (Metro), subway to Times Square, changing to No. 2 train, getting down at Newkirk and Little Haiti, then bus B8 to 45th street. Next three hours are spent in washing and packing, and by 4 pm, Fr Liju drops me at JFK. With sweets for friends and  staff my minimal baggage is overloaded.  For the permitted 46 kilos, I had just 28 kilos, but I felt overburdened by that. The major components were sweets/dry fruits for students & staff and the CMI house, and about half a dozen fiction books (received free) for the library. 

The Indigo connection from Istanbul was significant only for its near empty vessel, which permitted all those who wanted to stretch and sleep, a provision for that. Otherwise, there was nothing to do in that - no in-flight entertainment, no-food-or-refreshment-flight, except one warm meal for the entire stretch of the 7-hour flight! 

Arriving at 5 am in Delhi, I try to extend my air trip to Lucknow to gain 4 to 5 hours and show my face at the office for the day - but the price for the only flight that would suit my purpose is prohibitive - more than Rs. 10000 (usual fare around Rs 3500), plus Rs. 1200 for every kilo of the additional check-in baggage.  Though it was a tough task reaching and loading the four bags I was having, I thought it was trouble worth to save over Rs. 20000.00.

But connecting to public transport was not all that difficult - Airport express line takes you to New Delhi station in about 25 minutes, you shift to the Yellow Line to the next station (Rajeev Chowk), from there you get the blue line going to Vaishali, and you are there at ISBT Anand Vihar - all these stations accessible by lift! Even though I was willing to engage a porter (perhaps for the first time), I didn't have to do that - nor did I find porters readily available.  I get a Haryana Roadways bus to Sitapur by 8 am.  The conductor is quite friendly having guessed that I have travelled from abroad. Wants to share his share of US stories of his nephews and cousins who go there in 'the no. 2 channel', still finding it a risk worth taking!! He owes me Rs. 72. I wait to see if he asks for that after all that friendly chat. But he conveniently forgets it, but backed with dollar power, I treat it as a tip!! There are any number of trans-gender people out there in begging trade, and they coerce men to contribute.  Though never yielding to any such pressures, this time, I check my wallet and finding a 20 rupee note, donate the same. At the stop-over Dhaba, I treat myself to 2 masala kulhad tea and 2 packets of potato chips. I notice that he is charging Rs. 10 extra on each packet.  The usual me, either argue for the MRP, or decide not to purchase, making it known to them. But I don't. I am changing, or I am just getting old!!

At Sitapur, I get an e-rickshaw - the driver is not willing to fix any rate and insists on 'aap ki marzi'. He takes me to the monastery door, and I pay him a generous fee of Rs. 100.00 (usually 50 or 60), and he does not stand for any argument. 

Thus ends my trip of 1 month and 20 days. 

Uttarakhand Darshan

March 2025  

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Uttarakhand Darshan

A khand separated from the erstwhile undivided Uttar Pradesh, initially Uttranchal (2000). In 2007, Uttarakhand comprising thirteen districts, with Haridwar, Dehradun and Udhamsingh Nagar as plains and the rest of the districts as hills in the two regions of Garhwal and Kumaon. Barring a bike ride to Nainital, this was my first trip to the famous Kumaon hills –familiar to me thanks to Jim Corbett. Holi holidays gave a few days to cover the 500 odd kilometres to Munsiari, almost 7200 ft above msl.
My plan was a motorbike ride to Champawat. It was my confrere, Fr Jimmy, who suggested that I join their team, which was any way going to Champawat. Once there, my predecessor at Sacred Heart, Sitapur, and long-time friend, Fr Denny took over, and stretched our trip beyond any of my plans for this short break.
Sitapur – Maigelganj – Mohammadi – Powayan – Philibit Reserve Forest - Puranapur – Khatima - Banbasa – Tanakpur – Shukhi Dhang – Champawat – Lohaghat – Pithoragarh – Jauljibi – Baram – Madkot – Munsiari
Almost 500 kms one way – hills and winding roads, hairpin curves. Champawat about 6000 ft above msl itself is cool and pleasing; Deodhars and pines all around, and open areas spotted with wild pear and peach trees in full bloom of white and pink. As we go up, Rhododendrons in deep red, red and pink colours welcome you. These lower Himalayan stretches in this season provide a wide varieity of flowers – from grass and herbs to shrubs and trees. A reat to the eyes, and a feast for Munsiari stretch from Madkot presents the hills snow caps and powdery snow below them. It is fabulous. Eco park is a private resort on forest land, however, done with taste, with ten triangular tents erected on platforms about 10 ft high, with the green tin roofs covering the two-storied triangular structure, suitable to accommodate a family of four. There is a kitchen to provide food as per your orders. The Eco park has patches of snow from the last snowfall in February.
It was drizzle in the evening, and heavy rain in the morning, which prevented us from a much looked forward to trek uphills at Khaliya, about 6 kms, giving a clear view of the snow fields. Hopefully another time. The experienced members of our team were almost sure that it would snow, but it didn’t.
The staff at Eco Park say that there had been very less snow this year on account of the warm year. That is sad news. Back, with a detour to Darchula a town on both Indian and Nepalese sides of the river Sharada, which flows there with youthful vigour. The small town is so congested that you can’t find a space to park your vehicle. We have a quick walk around and across the bridge, finding a ‘tea-stall’ with great difficulty, and try some veg momos. Typical Indian style tea stalls could not be found, but food stalls all around, invariably with spirits available. I am yet to make sure if I got this right.
We travelled back to reach Champawat at night, and the morning we were blessed with a resounding shower of hail stones, which covered school ground with a white blanket for about half hour. Fortunately, it appeared not to be the season of any major crops in the area, though the pretty peach blooms did bear the brunt.
We drive down to Sitapur, another 6 hours. In all about 1100 kms on the Kumaon hills, a refreshing treat to eyes and mind. To my surprise, the scorpio, with a provision for the display of fuel efficiency, indicated at certain segments down hill upto 32 kms per litre of diesel, while the trip averaged around 18 kms per litre! That was a consolation! Fr Jimmy says, that vehicle is indeed a unique one, as far as fuel efficiency is concerned.

Sitapur - Mishrikh-Naimish – Chaurasi (84) Kosiya Parikrama of Holi

Mishrikh-Naimish – 84 Kosiya Parikrama of Holi

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Sleepy Sitapur turns spectacular come Holi – the five days culminating in Holi are perhaps the most central days for Mishrit. The chaurasi kosi parikrama of Mishrikh attracts hundreds of thousands. In tune with the professed Sanatanism, the Yogi government tries to promote the pilgrimage, combining both the ideological and economic agenda. Apparently, it is now becoming fashionable for the state cabinet to meet in such venues, underscoring the twin agenda. Naturally, with lakhs, perhaps, millions turning up for this very rare and unique pilgrimage, it can definitely be a centre for pilgrim tourism. It is amazing to observe the faith and devotion (shraddha) - the uninterrupted flow of people – going for the circumambulance of 12 km around the township of Mishrikh (From mishrit – after ‘mixture’ of the teerth of all the sacred rivers, as a boon for Maharshi Dadhichi, who could be Puranic prototype ‘organ-donor’ for Indian Knowledge System, donating one’s bones to be transformed into divine weapons for the destruction of wicked powers affecting the [human] world). The full course of parikrama of 84 kosi of 252 kms (1 kos = 3 kms) is said to touch all the 15 centres touched by Lord Ram as he passed this region on his vanvas. The roads, the streets, the houses, the open spaces, the shop-floors, the schools, even private houses are kept open for the pilgrims so that they may complete the parikrama in the easiest manner possible. There are any number of pandals for the devotees to find shelter and bhandaras offering free food. The whole city is covered with tents (tamboos) – people pour in with the family and friends, and with the bare minimum requirements, pitching a tent with a taat (a polythene sheet, stitched from sacks), cooking food, and finding time for the parikrama. While the aam yaatri treads on foot, there are special parikramas on elephant or chariot. There are several Naga sannyasis taking part of the pilgrimage, perhaps, after their visit to the Kumbh mela at Prayagraj. The great gathering naturally extends as a big mela, with great and affordable shopping opportunities for the pilgrims, a dip in the sacred Dadhichi kund, all sorts of pravacans, a variety of cultural programmes – religious and secular, several rides of a typical amusement park, a circus.

The state highway 21 from Sitapur to Hardoi is blocked for all sorts of four-wheelers and public transport for the smooth conduct of the pilgrimage and the control of the crowd. So for Mishrit people, it implies a camping time with the milling crowds of the pilgrims from different parts of the country.

I noticed camps from Odissa and Delhi. Perhaps there are from other parts of the country as well. The most impressive camp is that of a modern-day high-profile guru, Anil Kumar Shastri of Shri Ved Vyas Dham Trust. It is a bit away from the crowd and their tamboos – more elegant, class. He is said to have hundreds of brahmacari followers, and is said to have accomplished the complete parikrama on a fabulous chariot.

Guided by my faculty colleague Mr Sandeep Kumar, it was an enriching experience - glimpse of a culturally rich Sitapur!

Freedom after COVID19 - First flight after Covid Times 2022

This was my first flight in 2 years – from 2020 February to Delhi and this was the first on this very auspicious-looking day – 2/2/2022, that I boarded a flight. From 30 degree Celsius to 18 degree, and as I am winding up the day, it is just 13 degree Celsius.  I have put on a jacket, and am still feeling cold, not feeling okay to sit straight, rather gather myself closer together to feel warm.

From Kochi to Guwahati – Kochi presented a rather vacant, disciplined place, with very less crowd, and physical distance being observed to some extent. But the Indigo flight was almost full, and all the 3 seats in the row were occupied. The only way to feel a little safe was to have your mask on.

As I had more than 2 full hours, explored the possibility of free lounge access, which the Kochi lounge conveniently denied, whereas, in Kolkata, with the same list of companies, my card was welcome – for Rs. 2/- you had access to the basic facilities of the lounge – meals, cold drinks, coffee, tea… (I take it for another example of the Malayalee mind, rather than that of company stipulation). The Kolkata  lounge was fairly crowded.  I had four hours to spare – a few pages from Krishnamoorthy’s biography by Pupul Jaykar, 2 SIA (in the present format serving no intended purpose of SIA) meetings online and some lunch of dhaniya pulao & some form of ‘murg’ and delicious cold payasam…

The 55 mts flight over Brahmaputra to Guwahati was again crowded, and people were milling around the belt to retrieve their baggage.  Almost all were having their masks on. From the day of booking, the forbidding tone was evident – the exorbitant price of the ticket, with uncertainty looming large the extra amount involved in insurance, then the kind of coercion on the customer by leaving him no great choice but to reserve a seat with additional payment before you could proceed with the mandatory web-check-in, the formalities related to boarding pass and baggage tag, and the menacing messages regarding RTPCR and/or COVID vaccine certificate etc. finally, when it came to the real show, it all turned out to be a damp squib.  At the counter was Maria, wife of Bony, whose nuptial mass I had celebrated – she put me on the best seat possible, and without any hassle sent the luggage in.  No one was asking or saying anything about COVID or vaccine or RTPCR (except the perfunctory announcements by the air hostess, regarding social distancing while alighting), till I went out of Guwahati airport – there at the exit, there was someone asking for the proof of vaccine, and just presenting a digital copy of the same did the job, not even a scrutiny…

Guwahati was bustling with life – crowds all around, traffic jam.

I am at NE Social Work Forum, for a short stint of familiarising with social work scenario here, a learning opportunity – being out here as a learner, learning from the field, with veteran health professional and educationalist, Rev. Sebastian Ousepparampil, my good senior friend in the lead. 

Indian Roads again and the Public Transport Experience

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Not that I had not been using public transport during my busy career days as a SW educator, and later, as the HoI of a leading HEI of Keralam. But occasions were very limited, and it was Keralam. Now back to UP after 3 decades, I am observing with interest what the public transport experience of this enormously huge state. In less than 1 year I already had three long rides. 

Bus services in general have improved a great deal. The buses, the seats, the frequency, parallel services etc are much better. The roads definitely are - with the added national highways and expressways and the improved state highways.

In western & central UP, we have buses of UP roadways, Uttarakhand Parivahan Nigam, Delhi Transport Corporation, and not so infrequent Haryana, Punjab, Himachal & Rajasthan transport corporations. 

After the CMI gathering at  Coimbatore on our responses to our Common Home (where we discussed use of Public Transport as an indicator of our committment to our Common Home), I get a ride to Kochi airport as my good friend was travelling in the direction by the official Innova car. The odd 160 kms are covered in 3 hours & 15 mts. My attempt at online check-in with Air India is somehow converted into a Digi yatra in spite of not having the required app. That makes the various entry points at the airport easier. 

The flight takes off 15 mts late, but does a smooth landing at 11.50 pm 15 mts ahead of schedule. It takes half an hour to get out and almost 12.40 when I am finally ready to get to ISBT Kashmiri Gate. The prepaid taxi requires Ra 2500. An Uber biker induces me for a bike ride  and shows the Uber bid of Rs 460. It's a tough ride of around 45 minutes, and the last leg requires my assistance with waze support. He has managed to trick the arch Trickster like Uber while getting the benefits of the Uber label to get his due. I have no quarrel. 

It's past 1.50 am. And I find no direct services to Bijnor direction. My past experience of 1980s prompts me to take the Haridwar bus ready to move. It takes off at 2 am. The driver is very accommodating - he stops by a pan shop where one of the apparently inebriated young riders can get some bidi. The privileged seat across from the driver is given to another 2 so that they could have their fag while the bus is in motion. Apparently, a gracious gesture meant not to cause disturbance to fellow riders! 

The other bunch is making boisterous comments ranging from Har Har gange to Modi zindabad (more in a sense of disapproval than respect), feeling hungry etc. Finally forcing the conductor to warn him, and eventually show him the door forcefully. Fortunately, it ended there. No violence. I resigned to putting up with the smoking. Didn't just feel like challenging.  Halfway, I find an empty three-seater and managed to stretch on it till Haridwar. We are there by 5.50 am. I get a bus to Najibabad without delay, salute ganga mayya from the bus, and notice the drastic changes brought about on the tarmac patch running through the forest and farmlands. Just 15 kms before Najibabad, they stop for breakfast and I manage to get down at the Bijnor mode, just about 300 mts. From the ashram. It is some 300 kms and the cost is Rs 460.

Evening, I plan to board any bus going in the direction of Lucknow to reach Sitapur early morning. Fr Vijay takes initiative to arrange for a seat I  teh Lucknow bus from Haridwar with a driver Madan, a catholic, who drives the roadways on that route. I wait at the bus stop from 5.10. I get a call from the conductor Neeraj that they are not far away. It arrives at 5.25, I board and get the most comfortable seat with free space to stretch my leg - the double seat behind the first seat across from the driver. The google map indicates it is 395 kms. The ticket is for Rs 645. But the bus is not moving - a family comes out with an old man who needs to empty his bowels. He needs the support of his aging wife to accomplish it, and wash himself clean? Right in front of everyone - and all are putting up with it with no murmur.  The old man appears unconcerned about anything other than taking his next wavering step and be back on the bus. That duly accomplished, the bus moves and leaves Najibabad township only to turn in the opposite direction and stop for another 20 minutes for tea and snacks. These dhabas have greatly improved, with tolerably clean toilet facilities, snacks and typical North Indian food. I feel least attracted to any of the items including the kulhad tea. The noticeable addition is the welcoming announcement regarding the food with the warning that the bus will now go nonstop. 

The bus proceeds further and a very heavy rain lashes out at it, making the ride cool, but visibility minimal. The wipers are not functioning, both the driver & conductor make some effort to clean the glass. By now we are at Dhampur and they locate a small workshop, get a screwdriver, do some maneuvering to get them work. This is very unlike our KSRTC where the duo would have happily called off the trip,  calling up the office, and leaving the riders to fend for themselves, except for the support in putting them up on the next bus. Another 20 mts! And the rain is also gone. 

2 hours gone it has covered just about 30 kms. And from the target of 12.05 waze indicates now 1.24 am!  The bus moves on away from the expressway, and we are confronted with loud wailing from behind - I guess it is from a child who is looking for her dad gone out and not returned; but the wailing is persistent, the child appears inconsolable, while she babbles about the 'baba', and there is some effort by the fellow passengers to put her at ease. We realise that the senior person who had the problem with his bowels has now reached his destination - not the planned Lucknow hospital, but the ultimate one! That was why the young woman, presumably his daughter, was inconsolable. Now this has to be tackled. Another 10 kms or so, the bus stops by Kaanth Thaana in Muradabad, and another hour, police reporting is done, now the family is at peace, and the trip resumes.  All are at their ease and pace.  And the baba is made comfortable on his seat by his wife. At rare intervals, the muffled cries of the daughter emerge. At Rampur, the conductor tries to comfort the family by bringing some tea for them. I am at a loss as to what I could do to make things better.  I say a small silent prayer. 

There is another break for 15 mts. The bus has blocked off cars parked in the bus yard unauthorised.. They ask to adjust the bus so that they could go. There is no big argument - the driver comes back and adjusts the bus so that the unauthorised vehicles could get away without trouble. 

10.40 pm. It's now 5 hours of the trip. And we have covered just about 170 kms. The last stretch from Dhampur seemed to have been mainly through a forest patch. Now, we are on the expressway which means no humps, no red lights and greater speed. And the waze indicates the target time as 2.20 am. But I observe that even on the best stretches, the bus does not exceed 80 km. The conductor explains that the speed is limited by default. 

I doze off for a good 2 hours and find the suave driver unfamiliar to this route struggling to turn the vehicle back, having missed Shajahanpur. He has to trace back another 3 kilometres to find the stop. 

Now finally, the conductor Mr  Neeraj is at peace. He relaxes into the front seat parallel to the driver's seat and enjoys a fag. I am in no mood for arguments or adjustments. He gives the plan for the babaji for whom his people would arrive at a pre-determined spot.  

Contrasting Employee Responses: A family wants to get down at a convenient location before the Migelganj station - he facilitates that. It's late night. The family is made comfortable. That is in sharp contrast with Kerala conductors who work to rule in 'their best interests' - exceptions notwithstanding. I began this trip with a ride in a packed FP bus to Muvattupuzha from Karingachira. I had to get down at a convenient location to move to the private bus stand. When I told this to the young lady conductor she admonished me - oh you should have gotten down there and got into a private bus. (My all-grey [white] beard, apparently does not yet cut a venerable old figure with people it seems - at least no one shows the sympathy one ought to get at 60 of being a senior citizen.) The bus had just left the stop. She could very well have stopped the bus once again. I thought the bus would stop at the next junction, from where we could get a bus or an auto. But no! Then some youngsters pulled the bell string and the bus halted. I was about to get out, and then there was an argument between them and the conductor, and the bus moved on, and with my age and baggage, I didn't want to run the risk. A fierce argument erupted between the two parties and by then the bus reached the bus stand. I slipped out quietly while the argument continued. 

Here, I find the conductor directing the bus for a detour just to help the people of the Babaji (he was sporting a Gheruva dhoti & shirt, and was sporting long hair and a beard) to receive him into the awaiting tractor with ease. That is done. And that is the farewell trip. The driver had turned off the music after the news of his death by way of showing respect to the departed fellow traveller and his family. 

Contrast: At Muvattupuzha bus stand, the auto wallah asked Rs.60 for the trip which would have cost me. Rs. 40 if she were to let me off earlier. I didn't haggle. On reaching, I asked the driver politely if he would have change for Rs 40. He reacts rather fiercely arguing that it was Rs 60. I said peaceably that I did not ask for any less! Here in Sitapur, I cover a much longer distance by e-rickshaw and I pay Rs 50 happily for me and him, that too at midnight. What does that speak of? Standard of living or coat of living or organised labour power?  (However, the e-rickshaw ride along the bumpy 4 km track was really back-breaking! Unless you adjust yourself according to the bumps, you are bound to have the impact on your vertebral column without fail! I feared if the driver was being vindictive in some fashion.  Perhaps, the driver seat does not get the impact as would the passenger).

It's 3 am. In less than 48 hours, I have covered the Indian roads of Keralam, Tamil Nadu, Delhi, UP and UK in an Innova car, on a taxi bike, on Kerala SRTC, UP & UK buses, on foot, on a scooter and on an e-rickshaw. Altogether over 1000 kilometres - enjoying the rain and the changing landscape - generally green all over thanks to the monsoons, witnessing the haughty organisational power of labour in God's own country making it Dogs' own country (literally), the accommodative ownership of the state buses by its employees in North India, which help them to run on profit, and bidding farewell to a fellow traveller who just went thus 'tathagata:' 

I am still to come to terms with the bindas UP style where anywhere any road is a 'road to freedom' for them - oneway easily overcome by anybody charging in the opposite direction and the rest of the crowd accommodating that, barring the exceptional bad mouthing or cursing from those who think themselves to be 'trafficly sophisticated'.  The culture perhaps makes it God's own land for them! 

Hofuf Oasis - Saudi Arabia

It has been some time since I began to hear about the attractions of Saudi Arabia - that it had much more to offer than the desert.  It is one of the bigger nations in the region - area, population, GDP

Yes, in modern tourism, the desert sand dunes are indeed an attraction, and a ride through them, an adventure. There are camping tours, with traditional cuisine and dance, in the deserts. 

But the travellers are discovering better and more diverse attractions - natural and human-made.  Our exploration of Hofuf was such.  We learnt from several sources that Hofuf was the nearest spot from Bu Samra border for a Qatar resident to visit Saudi. I found it was 260 kilometres from Doha and 170 from the border. 

Obtaining Saudi Visa

I have never found obtaining a visa to another country this simple.  After initial confusion and exploration, I found the website to be used for visa application to Saudi Arabia. It was the world cup days of Doha 2022. Saudi was showing signs of thawing in relationships after the three-year-long blockade, which only served to strengthen Qatar as a nation, and make it more self-reliant on various fronts.  You apply, there was no fees for a holder of Hayya Card (the world cup identity card).  Some insurance amount had to be paid. And in almost a minute, you get an email with your visa attached. Phew!! As simple as that.  It was a multiple-entry visa valid for 3 months, extendable, if applied before the end of its validity period. 

Our MD opined that it was good to utilise the opportunity as his experience showed that Saudi was a difficult place to get entry to. 

I contacted my cousin Bindu there, and she welcomed me, and suggested some dates, which suited me too, though they happened to be the inaugural days of the world cup. The tickets cost me some 20000 rupees. I spent about 3 full days there - one day going around Riyadh town, a museum which was closed, Kingdom Centre, the tallest tower in Riyadh and half a day devoted to visiting Al Haeer lake park about 50 kms away - with a stream flowing in that area forming a lake, all out of wastewater.  It was well maintained.  The weather was good.  One day was dedicated to a long ride to Al Khobar after Dammam.  We drove up to the midpoint of the King Fahd Causeway about 25 kms in length. Further it was Bahrain border and we needed to obtain a visa for the same, and my cousins could not cross over, unless they get permissions from their employers. 

With another confrere added to the company, and summer holidays on, I thought why not try the Saudi visa once again, and if possible, go across driving.  I repeated the exercise, and a 5-minute exercise, but this time with a fee of about 110 USD paid online with credit card, did the trick. Joshy had some more trouble with the right kind of picture to be uploaded.  While applying for the visa, you are asked the mode of travel and the point of entry - I entered by land and the port of entry as Abu Samra.  I hope that would not prevent one from entering by air. 

Then we inspired our all-time ally on all our explorations, heartian Alan, and after some dilly-dallying he managed to obtain a visa. Now the matter was of the conveyance. Alan would not trust his car. The car I use cannot be taken across the border unless the standard procedure of authorisation through the administrative software 'Metrash' is done. This requires the consent of the employer.  I approached our M.D. and he agreed to do that for me, and the company PRO did that online procedure.  Perhaps, they too were doing it for the first time, and I had to instruct them.  I had heard that it had a fee of QR 10. But when he finally accomplished it, I saw the voucher for QR 25.  Mr Jacob, though had reservations regarding this trip, yet was solicitous to get the car insured across the border and would have done that but for my intimation regarding our last-minute change of plan. Alan could not free himself and we postponed the trip for another 2 weeks. Then finally, it was revealed that there was no need to do the insurance in advance it was only required at the border where they facilitate that. 

Our transport department got the car trip-ready by getting a thorough check of its condition - tyres, oil, spare tyre etc. and reported that all was in order. 

Both of us, now into ESD, were determined to keep the trip as waste free as possible.  We filled all our empty bottles with fresh water, and thus totally avoided additional water bottles. We got some fruit and juice for the trip.  A battery charger was installed (borrowed), and a power-bank charged, phones also fully charged. 

There is Alan, and also his friend and experienced Saudi visitor, Sri Lankan Mr Azhar (who speaks Arabic, Tamil, Sinhalese, Malayalam and English). 

I drove past the border control area. 90 kms from Doha we reach Abu Samra border.  There are 4 checkpoints from the Qatar side - first check, vehicle papers, people, and passport stamping; and 4 checkpoints on the Saudi side - entry, vehicle, insurance and customs.  The crucial point is the one to take fingerprints, for which you have to step out of the car, meet the officer and get the scan of all ten fingers - first, four fingers of both hands, and then, of the thumbs. Once this is done, your next trips don't require this. A vehicle insurance amount of QR 138 had to be paid. This is valid for 5 days (only). They appeared to prefer card payment - foreign cards would imply exchange charges as well. 

Alan was in control, determining the schedule and changing it at will. Our initial understanding was that we would travel to the nearest spot (vaguely, an oasis, which we later learnt, was Hofuf) in Saudi and explore there for a while, would try to reach up to Khobar border, and if time permits, will cross over to Bahrain, and if possible, meet with Mr Jose Pediakal, my school time friend and neighbour.  But on the way, Alan reveals that we would go straight to Khobar. I insist on crossing over to Bahrain.  

The next point is Al Khobar which is about 270 kilometres. We stop in between for fuelling and refreshments. But Azhar has the main purpose of fulfilling his prayer - fajr! That is the dedication of a devout muslim. At 3.45 am, he is awake and determined to do his obligatory prayer. We wait for about half hour there.  Then we travel for another hour and a half and reach the famed Causeway. There is a toll for the bridge 25 riyals. 

We hit the Bahrain border on the King Fahd Causeway, and the typical border scrutiny takes place there too.  An additional 45 Saudi Riyals (SAR) have to be paid as insurance. A Saudi visa permits you to enter Bahrain as well. A ride on the Causeway linking Saudi Arabia and Bahrain, 25 kilometres in length, the fruit of planning and negotiations of almost 50 years, is a pleasurable one, provided you have the front seat.  Regret is that you are not permitted to stop and relish the expanse of the sea.  The expected speed on the causeway is 100 km per hour, and slower traffic is not easily tolerated. The islands created along the causeway, with their lawns and restaurants, give you a feel of it, and a space to relax and refresh. 

Now the plans are gone awry, and I didn't feel like disturbing Jose but wanted to say hello, and if possible, do some groundwork for our alumni unit to be established.  I text him. It's a Friday, and still too early for anyone to wake up. 

We head towards the Sacred Heart Church and school in Manama, the capital.  It is found out easily. There are plenty of fairly clean washrooms there. Unlike Qatar, there appeared more Mangalorean, and Goans in the Church.  There were Philippinos as well.  There are no separate catholic churches for the different rites.  All managed to hold their masses in the same church. As in the case of the rest of the middle east, the diocese is almost entirely entrusted to capuchin priests.  They were not easily accessible to a stranger, and my texting our capuchin friends in Doha didn't yield any response.  Spent some time in the Church.  In fact, ideally, I should have participated in the Eucharist, at least till Jose turned up. But only after stepping out of the church did it occur to me to call Jose. It was around 6.20.  He said he would be there in 20 minutes. However, he took about 50 minutes. He sounded enthusiastic about us being there, and that was welcome. 

Alan also established contacts with his relatives who appeared on the scene and invited us to go to their place, in the neighbourhood.  However, when Jose said there was something to be seen around in Bahrain and that he would take us around, I had no more doubt. I joined him in his ... car, while the rest of the gang followed. We reached ahead of them, and on their arrival, they dropped Fr Joshy and left on their own to Alan's relatives. 

Jose lives comfortably away from the city at Palace Gardens, in Al Qurayyah. The house was very spacious - tastefully maintained.  I was meeting Jose's family, perhaps for the first time.  Though we were good friends and collaborators (especially on the KCSL platform) during our school days, after joining the seminary, I had hardly any contact with anyone of my schoolmates, and my local contacts were revived only after 30 years, when I came back with the assignment as the principal of Sacred Heart College.  By that time, Jose was away, and we hardly ever got any chance to meet later on.  Jose's wife, Anu, sister of another good friend Thomas Urumpath was very welcoming, and so too were his two sons Rohan, now about to venture as an entrepreneur, and the younger one Rahul, still finishing his studies in auditing.  Jose has grown with his company which was a small firm when he joined. Now it has over 300 staff to administer the organisation, and at any time over 1000 contract workers for the various projects they take up.  He is the Finance Director of the same, which is having a 27-floor building in the prime business area of Manama with 3 top floors  housing their offices.  We had a very refreshing breakfast, and a quick round of the compound which had been transformed into a lush green patch with great diversity, in a span of less than 6 months. Both husband and wife shared great enthusiasm for the green patch they had created and were still creating. 

Jose shares the view of several well-to-do Indian ex-pats of the Middle East - that it is safer and more peaceful to live there (in Bahrain/the middle east) than in Keralam - in spite of all the lack of the so-called freedom (swatantryam as the SFI minions of the servile hypocritic Keralam, shout at the top of their voice during their apparently only engagement called 'samaram' - strike work).  For an average middle-class person, who does not to meddle with the law or mess with others, there is plenty of freedom, of entertainment, even engagement in voluntary action without making that very obvious, as Anu does with the prison ministry. Not to be accosted by the police, not to be questioned or intimidated by the religio/political moral police force, to be able to start one's venture with one's or borrowed money without having the prolonged harassment of the bureaucracy, not having to grease their palms, and then face the hostile resistance of politically backed employees, and not to be levying tax left and right on the citizens without providing any service that can justify such taxation...Isn't that what a citizen is entitled to, which s/he hardly ever gets in Keralam/India. So to hell with such a place and people! Better stay and earn peacefully elsewhere, and perhaps, 'give back' in terms of contributing to genuine causes of individual needs, or public needs especially those related to keeping the natural heritage intact. 

Bahrain may be the country that gives the highest degree of freedom among the middle east nations, symbolic of which is the free access to alcohol in the kingdom. I could not test or taste this freedom due to lack of time, and my determination to be the designated driver.  Jose also didn't permit any (typical Syrian Christian) hypocrisy and offered drinks to the visitors, with himself and the sons joining the company, while he warned that the one who drives must be safely free of any spirit, except the Holy One. 

Earlier, he took us to the new Catholic cathedral for the North Arabian diocese which covers Kuwait, Saudi Arabia and Qatar.  It is at Awali, about 20 kms away from the city centre.  The place is desert-like, with hardly any settlements around.  A hexagonal church, dedicated to Our Lady of Arabia built on a 9000 sq. m land donated by the King, it stands out in the region, and is visible from far. It is said to be the biggest church in the Middle East.  While the Cathedral church appears more conducive prayer, Our Lady of Rosary Church Doha, appears bigger to me.  He also took us to a small older cozy chapel, called Awali church, in the residential area of the Europeans who were there to establish the oil wells in the initial phase of oil discovery in the region.  He also drove us through the well-maintained Al Riffa area, resembling any tropical greener region. 

We visited the first oil well in the whole of the Middle East in Awali. It is converted into a museum.  The museum was not open, although the security pleasantly let us go and have a look around the first well. The region all around has oil wells. The terrain also boasts of some hills which are uniquely shaped and attractive. 

Bahrain's commercial city resembles other posh modern middle east cities like Dubai or Doha. There are some buildings which stand out for their modern architecture.  The museum is good, and the efforts to present the traditional lifestyle of the people are very educative. It indicates the difference oil and consequent wealth have made to the region.  I have often felt deprived with India having hardly any such resource worth mentioning. However, even without any of these, India is still flourishing; only if it had been free from corruption, it would have been far better off for all its citizens!   The floor of the entrance shows a peculiar design, which we later realise is the map of Bahrain spread over a huge hall covering about 1500 sq. ft. At the entrance prominently displayed are the pictures of Pope Francis' visit to Bahrain in 2022, and the chair and the car he used.  I get a picture taken with Pope Francis and King Hamad bin Isa bin Salman al Khalifa, that's for fun, though I chafe at the obsequiousness we tend to exhibit in meeting with people considered great because of their power. Jose said that the sea was just on the boundary of the museum, however, a vast area has been filled that the sea is now far away, thus the museum losing its charm of being on the shore. 

We also pass by Bab Al Bahrain - the gateway of Bahrain - which used to be the earlier commercial centre of Bahrain in olden times. Now it is modernized, but retaining some appearance of the old-time souq. 

On our return, we stop over to get a glimpse of the Royal Camel Farm just about 2 kilometres away from Jose's place; however, no one was being let in, as some contagion was feared among the camels.  It's a vast farm with hundreds of camels being housed and taken care of. 

We had a small discussion on forming an alumni group and had some lunch at Jose's place.  Then started our trip back hitting the Causeway which was just about 3 kilometres away from his home. We felt the toll officer tricked us by almost insisting on cash payment and not giving us a receipt. Perhaps such pilfering happens even in these countries, though on the whole explicit corruption is very minimal. But we were annoyed at the way in which he tried to trick us. 

In spite of my eyelids feeling very heavy, I kept a steady pace and managed to reach Hofuf within our set target time.  We were confronted directly by the hills of Hofuf, they stood before us like tall sculptured walls, with some effort at making the approach area before those majestic brick brown hills into a crude amusement park. Someone guided us to go further up and turn right to find road that would take us to the top of the hill, and about 2 kilometres ahead, we reach the parking area with an entrance to the park. The whole area is converted into a park, with many of the attractions (a cable car, 2 hanging bridges etc.) yet to be completed.  I was desperate to relieve myself and even the Bengali labourer doesn't think of any other option than the only toilet (the labourer pointed in a direction indicating 'washroom') apparently on the far end of the park, invisible from the entrance. In spite of the remoteness of the place, and facilities still in the process of making, the washrooms, separately for men and women, were kept rather clean and furnished with sufficient water. The top of the hill gives a beautiful view of the lush green valley, almost exclusively and thickly populated with date palms! It is a beautiful sight for a desert region. The hill lets you feel the power of the wind on the top; even at 7 pm, it gave the feeling of being in front of a furnace.  I guessed it would be much pleasanter starting November. We enjoyed the view, and went around hunting for an Arabian Mandi, in vain, and finally satisfied ourselves with Al Baik Chicken, famous all-over Saudi Arabia, from the modern and posh highway region of the locality. 

Then we pushed off and in 2 hours we were at the border, clearing the checkpoints and reaching back Doha by 1200 midnight! Altogether 925 kilometres trip in just about 26 hours covering 3 countries. 

I noted that our expenditure including the visa fees, fuel, tolls, insurance and food came to only a little above the amount I had spent to go to Riyadh by air last year.  

But Hofuf has not stopped attracting me - The tawny-tiny hills of Hofuf are beckoning me to come and explore them further!