Page 152 - Musings 2021

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A Secret Diary
Rajitha M

My wristwatch showed 9:30 am when the train halted at Siliguri station. A minute later, at the
whistle of the guard, the train cooed and moved forward, belching out clouds of grey smoke
towards the blissful blue sky. I was lucky enough to get a window seat and was already
mesmerized by the unparalleled scenic beauty of the snow-capped hills. I did not blink even
for a second for fear of missing out on the exciting and spectacular views the idyllic location
offered throughout the two-hour journey. The vintage toy train chugged its way through the
bustle of the bazaar, sometimes parallel to the roads, often halted at quaint little stations, and
at other times moved upward in zig zags. Looking down to the deep treacherous valley made
me dizzy. I felt like falling into a seemingly endless abyss. The loco curved up and around the
hill before steaming into the final station. “Welcome to Darjeeling,” the gentle female voice
announced. No sooner had the train halted than the passengers rushed to get out. As I was in
no hurry, I waited till the crowd settled. The tonga services waited outside the station to pick
up the passengers, and some of them haggled over the fare.

As I was strapped for cash, I preferred to take a 2 kms walk with my backpack to the cottage
atop the hill. The morning breeze tingled my cheeks. As I walked through the narrow path
flanked by tea gardens, I witnessed scores of women plucking leaves with huge baskets on
their back and merrily humming the lore of bygone heroes. The strong aroma of the tea
leaves and the occasional humming of cuckoos pervaded the place. The sky started turning
sapphire, unblemished and cloudless. The whole place was throbbing with tranquillity, and I
felt like I was in heaven. I stopped at a board that read “Oasis Cottage.” It directed me to take
a left. I continued walking around 50 metres or so to finally arrive at the cottage. There was
not a soul in sight!

“Sahib...” I turned to see a man in shabby clothes and a turban tied around his head.

“Jeremy Brooks”, I introduced myself.

He nodded as if recognizing me and uttered rather politely, “but you are a week early, sir. The
cleaning is still going on.”

“It’s okay. Could you please tell me where I can find Mr. Arthur Harley?”

“Hey Brooks, what a surprise! You little punk, you said next week”, Harley appeared out of
nowhere and punched me in my tummy.

“Yeah. A slight change of plans. The baby is due in two weeks, and Daisy expects me.”

“Oh, I see. Ram, tidy up the pace. We’ll be right back.”

Ram nodded yes and rushed in. Harley was living nearby and he took me to his home. After
helping ourselves with a sumptuous meal, I left for the cottage. The living room was crowded
with furniture and old paintings. Hung from the ceiling was a colourful chandelier to lighten
up the interior at night. I went to the bedroom upstairs and ensconced myself under the warm
blankets.

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