Mornings in forests are beautiful. And I am saying this after a sum total of 1 early morning in a jungle. Its an absolute delight. The freshness. The dew. The cold stinging air. The smoke from logs burnt to warm hands. And the smell of fresh tea being boiled.
I left Raigarh with a heavy heart and heavy eyes having seen the news through the night following what was on at home minute by minute. But then I had to move on.
The night was peaceful. The morning was blissful. I rode hard for about 70 kilometers before I reached a small bridge with a couple of tea stalls around it before rising into the hills. I was sipping my tea when everyone else was huddled into a TV running news in Oriya. I didn’t quite understand what was going on when I finally started catching words and phrases. Something was on in Mumbai. I then heard R R Patil, then the Commissioner then someone else saying the NSG, Marcos and the Army had been deployed. I missed a heartbeat. Something was wrong. Horribly.
The problem with college boys is that they are too eager to do too many things and expect everyone around them to be the same. Unfortunately, once you leave college and join a job, all that energy vanishes somewhere. That’s especially the case when you are as lazy as I am and have as sedate a job as investment banking. So when these guys (including a close family friend of mine in the final year of college) asked me to ride with them on an after-exam night ride to Puri, I hesitated. And was promptly asked to shut my mouth and come along. So I spent the night watching random movies with random stories waiting for time to arrive. It did. At 3.30 in the morning.
Hope everyone around here is safe. Those bastards must pay.