Yet another day in Dayapar (in Kutch region where i worked for a few months as an India Fellow), I was eagerly waiting for a call from Parbat Bhai, the field coordinator for the western block in Sahjeevan. That day was supposed to be a field day. I was supposed to visit Khayyari, about 40km from where I stayed. The village is located on NH 754K, en route to Narayan Sarovar from Bhuj. However, I had another task in hand. The task was to find accommodation somewhere in Lakhpat where all field areas were accessible. For this task, Parbat Bhai had to share the contact information of a known landlord. Since he was held up with some other work, this got delayed.
Finally, he shared the number, but disappointment was all I experienced. The landlord had no available khaali ghar (empty house). In the meantime, waiting for an affirmation, I missed my 10:30am bus. Public transportation in Kutch is unreliable (i have mostly lived in a metro city in India where the situation is relatively better), and the next bus was scheduled to arrive around 1:30pm. It takes about 1 hour to reach Khayyari from Dayapar.
This meant I would hardly get time with the community as the last bus from Narayan Sarovar leaves at 6pm.
Respite From Solitude
Field days were my only respite from solitude as I stayed 120km away from the main office in Bhuj. Even the Dayapar office was located in some desolate corner of a gated society. So, even though it seemed infeasible, I decided to go. I knew I had to pull some stunt to reach there as early as possible. In the place where I had my nashta, basically fafda-jalebi and chai, I enquired if there were other ways to reach Khayyari before the next bus arrived. The kaka who owned the small stall told me that Boleros go to Vermanagar and Narayan Sarovar, charging nominally. These are ‘Maldhariyon Ki Gaadi’ (pastoralists’ vehicles).
Crossed the road and waited for a while. Finally, a maroon-colored, dusty, vintage Bolero arrived. The vehicle could easily accommodate seven to eight adults. Unsurprisingly, however, the driver bhai let about 15 people sit. I was asked to sit in the middle seat, where five people were already seated. They did make space for me, though.
Then joined another elderly woman with her small troop of four to five people. Kaki initially wanted to sit in the middle seat as sitting behind wouldn’t be comfortable. I was perplexed if I would be asked to move out of the space I somehow got. Fortunately, driver bhai asked kaki to adjust in the backseat with her folk. Since there was a lot of luggage and people, kaki was forced to sit in the middle seat.
I Was Tired
Exhausted as I was after waiting and feeling disappointed, I was reluctant. Immediately, I was reminded that I was accommodated even though there was technically no space. Hence, I scooched while the girls made space for yet another person. Kaki welcomed this with a broad smile. With a couple of more adjustments in the front seat, the vehicle took off. As everyone had come in their groups and spoke in Kutchi, I couldn’t relate. I zoned out. I got lost in my thoughts, desperately wanting to meet my folks in Bangalore. Then, I was reminded of how mundane and meaningless things had been at home, which assured me why I was here. However, this realization didn’t help me …
Making all this worse was the Bolero that ran on the road in a jerky manner. I was really annoyed at the co-fellow who was destined to complete his fellowship with me and left after a month. Wow! Another stream of thought that made me feel miserable. In addition, I was in a land where I did not speak their language, and they did not speak mine. All this made me a little vulnerable. Engulfed in my sad thoughts, added with the exhaustion, I got lost.
Suddenly, there was a hand that held my head against their shoulder. A gush of happy hormones was secreted that broke my spell of loneliness. A sudden sense of warmth thawed me. Although it was a stranger, the touch was familiar with a mother’s for a child. I heard kaki mumbling something in Kutchi. Given the context, I made sense of what she was saying. She told her companions that the child was exhausted and that her head was hanging loose in such a bad posture. Let me rest her head on my shoulder. It was after this that I realized I had fallen asleep.
Shedding Tears, Finally
A gesture so unexpected, so overwhelming, I couldn’t resist but silently shed some tears. After much time, I opened my eyes and was grateful for the warmth the pastoralist women offered. I thanked her with puppy eyes. With the same moisture in hers as well, she muttered something in Kutchi, which I knew was nothing related to the gratitude phrases I blabbered.
Finally, my destination arrived, and I paid my nominal fee after I got down. I held kaki’s hand again as a gesture of gratitude. The Kutchi style, she had my palm in her moist hands and bid me farewell.
Some images have been refined using AI with the help of another co-fellow, Pronamika Goswami
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