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DOWN MEMORY LANE

Portrait of a rugged crest

It’s something like Wuthering Heights, except that the Ring Road passes close by and fishmongers sit under a peepul tree with lamps and lanterns. The scene is very much in the Capital, off Naraina village where a gnarled tree uprooted by this summer’s storm lies a few yards away. It provided shade to many a wayfarer, but now it awaits the woodman’s axe. This tree, now dead and soon to be cut into pieces, must have stood for several years and seen the area being transformed from a wilderness into a habitation. But something of the old days still lingers in the evening vegetable market of which the fish sellers are a part.

When the sun sets behind the FCI building and casts its last rays on the murky water of the pond below it, and the train to Jaipur has passed by, the fish sellers prepare to receive their first customers. They sell their stuff by weight and the scales they use are old, dingy ones that have been long off-balance. But that hardly seems to make a difference to the trade. The seller weighs one scale down, almost touching the ground and the buyer seems to be satisfied. It’s only the fish that keep staring all the time.

You walk up and down the rugged terrain behind. There are bushes and babool trees and a winding way leading to the temple. Gradually this place will become like any other colony, for they are building flats to house the ever growing population. Until then you can take a stroll here. The kirtan is long over and the crowd has disappeared, but the filth left behind has become part of the soil over which new bushes will sprout.

From the high ground you can look up the water tank that serves as a reservoir for the inhabitants of Naraina; and looking down across the road you will see a deserted sentry tower. That’s part of the Cantonment area. In the daytime donkeys and mules canter round it — that’s if a cricket match is not on. The players use the tower as a pavilion and the umpire sometimes comes and stands below it. But late in the evening, the sentry tower evokes other thoughts — like the futility of maintaining a watch over something which will eventually need no vigilance and harbour only vagabonds at night.

It’s most distressing to think like that. You come back to the fishmongers. They are in a hurry to dispose of their stuff. A woman dangles a rohu from a slim arm “How much,” she asks. “Rupees” says the seller. “No, Rs.45”, says the woman, throwing the fish down and wiping her hand on her husband’s scooter dickey. “Okay”, says the man and throws the fish back at her. She picks it up and is soon speeding away on the scooter. A few fishes remain and they keep staring, with no more customers in sight, except a couple walking up the incline in the pale moonlight like Heathcliff and the girl he loved.

But the scenario is changing fast because of the extension of the Naraina flyover. Already it takes at least 40 minutes to cross over from Mayapuri/Raja Garden to Naraina. Many prefer to go via Kirti Nagar or Nangal Raya, over the Janak Sethu, to reach Dhaula Kuan. The increased traffic and consequent congestion will spell doom for the Rugged Heights and the view one gets from it. Perhaps the fishmongers may move out too and the sentry tower will be demolished. Then only memories will remain.

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