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It was to be a routine trip to Etah through bumps, bambas and breakers -but it ended up with something very interesting and exciting.

Indeed, it started off in a routine manner. The journey began from National Highway No. 2 (NH2), from Agra towards Firozabad. Driving on that stretch of NH2 is bliss: the six-lane carriageway is sans traffic, well marked and extremely smooth, and much better than the sector between Delhi and Agra. Lest we forget that we are actually in east UP, the bliss had to end pretty soon. Leaving the butter-smooth NH-2 en route at Tundla, we turned left on the high-way towards Etah, and were immediately greeted by broken roads, impossibly rough jerks and a cloud of dust.

Mercifully, the narrow road to Etah is overall much better compared to other places I have visited, except for the grueling stretch at a place called Nagla Beech. No, there is no ocean here, though there is enough sand to give the ‘beach’ effect. Nagla, as we learnt later, is a local word for small or mini , equivalent to dera in Punjabi.

The scenery was pretty much the same also except that on Basant Panchmi, the sarson fields seemed to sway in full bright basanti color!

On route we stopped at Awagarh, our first visit.

Etah

Etah is hardly a town to write about crippled and crumbling, it is an ugly mass of concrete and dirt thrown together, with traffic sense conspicuous by its absence. We got caught in the first of the many jams of the day. Worse, we had to go to a place near the Ghantaghar, which is in a narrow market place where my Santro could barely fit in.

Finishing work in Etah by two, we took G.T.Road towards Aligarh, to visit a small village called Pilua. It was on this route that my eye caught onto a signage displaying the name of Soron, some 45 kilometers off the road, on the right hand side. My adventure antenna was buzzing hard Soron is on the banks of River Ganges, and I was keen to visit it. However, my colleague reasoned that we would get too late, and it wasn t really safe to be on the drive on this route very late.

Pilua

A village that springs up from nowhere on G.T.Road, Pilua is like any other that I have visited so often in the past few months. Purely an agriculturist belt, it has no businesses not even proper shops where one can buy decent biscuits, as our host informed us.

The manager of the office that we were visiting gave enough information on the road and route to Soron to have me enough perked up. Brushing aside my colleague s complaints and grumbles and fears and reasons, I turned the car back towards Etah and turned on the way, just before entering the city, towards Soron. It was three pm, and I promised him that we will reach in an hour and start off back from there by 5 pm maximum!

Kasganj

Admittedly, the road was a delight and even in the narrowness, I eyed the speedometer cross the eighty mark several times. The good part lasted till we reached Kasganj. I had thought it would be just a village. However, Kasganj turned out to be a full town, and here we drove right into its long market place, and got stuck there! The road was so restricted that two cars couldn t pass simultaneously. Plus, the shops, the rickshaws, the thelas, the cyclists all added to the confusion. It took us half-an-hour to trudge our way out.

Soron

It is a village of pundits, poojas and prasads. Almost a mini-Hardwar, the place is often visited to do shraadhs and assorted other rituals. The market was lined with an array of halwais, with tempting jalebis stocked up tantalizingly. We visited the office we had to and hadn t really bargained for a garrulous officer, who was overall kind but ate up a lot of our time. Pulling ourselves away, we asked him where the Ganges Ghat is. He sent a guide along to help us find the way.

And it was a major disappointment! The ghat was just a small kund , with several temples on the sides, but there was no river. I eyed the greenish water of the kund with a heavy heart; surely, this couldn’t be the reason for the town’s popularity in this part of the country!

No, it isn’t, the helpful person informed. The flowing river is only seven-eight kilometers away, and the road is quite fine. I looked at the kund , and then at my colleague, internally debating whether to take the risk or not after all it was already past five pm. No! It was boldly written across his face. But, I argued, having come this far we couldn t just drive away without seeing the river- especially when it is only seven kilometers away.

Well, the winner is usually the one who has the control and in this case I was driving. So, we set out to find the holy river.

Even before we could exit Soron, we were caught in the third of the major traffic jam- which chewed up some more of our precious time.

Ganga

The river is eight kilometers ahead of Soron, on the road to Bareilly and the route is partially good. The pot-holes are not visible, but the car swayed up and down as if on a slow-motion merry-go-ride- and the road is disconcertingly empty.

At last, the majestic river the pride of India and the holiest one for Hindus was on our sight. In our hurry, I drove the car right upto the banks and to my horror found it stuck in the bank s sand. The more I accelerated the deeper it stuck in till the time it refused to budge.

Local children ran towards us shouting excitedly “Gaadi phans gayi! Gaadi phans gayi!!”

The sun was about to finish its day s chores, and that was the one single moment I felt a small fear clamp my heart.

The children offered to help but at a price. The negotiations ended at Rs 150, with not much leverage on my side. After all, it was my car that was stuck and I had to take help if I wanted to reach home!

They pushed and heaved the car out from the shifting smooth white sand, and I was relieved.

O Ganga Mayya

Strange I had heard Latadidi ’s song Ganga mayya mein jab tak paani rahe that very morning, and its choral leitmotif Ganga, O Ganga Mayya was playing in my mind’s loop.

Another enterprising kid offered to take us in a boat to the middle of the river, to enable us to carry back the holy water (in the plastic miniature bottles that we had purchased in Soron itself). For the size of the child, he displayed quite a bit of strength in ferrying the boat.

The river was beautiful, and the setting sun added to the complete experience. The wind was mild and balmy. The water though not clean- shone in the dying light, as it lapped luxuriously on its onward journey, where multitudes would be taking a dip on this day.

Yesterday was Basant Panchmi also the day of Shaahi Snaan at Ardh Kumbh Mela. We couldn’t obviously take a dip. But I managed to bow before the Mother River Ganga on this auspicious day and take Her blessings. I believe there was an upper force that worked full-time to enable me to reach there a visit that was never planned or thought of.

Return Trip

On our return- from Ganga to Yamuna - we were caught in an insufferably long traffic jam, caused by a punctured tractor. If that wasn t enough, after entering Agra, I was caught in yet another long queue on the arterial M.G.Road and reached home at 11:30 in the night - exhausted but sated.

The trip was a success and I loved each moment of it. Can’t say the same for my colleague, though!

Related Posts : Bamba And Bumps , On The Road , …And Some More Travails

Technorati : Etah, Ganga, Ganges, Road, Soron, Traffic, Travel

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This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 24th, 2007 at 10:06 am and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.