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The
Click Camera
After having bought a car, a second-hand Standard herald, for the first time somewhere around 1968, my better half and I decided to undertake a trip to the hills.
Frankly, we were very proud of our acquisition. It was the best I could afford as a young Flight Lieutenant. Very few Flight Lieutenants could sport a car in the sixties, two-wheelers being the most common mode of transportation. The Leave-Travel grant that the Government doled out was not generous enough to take care of the estimated expenses so, due to lack of funds, I disposed off a few bank shares (gifted by mother) to raise some dough.
Thanks to the Indian Army, one could book decent accommodation in their holiday homes, at a princely sum of Rupees 8 a day! The package included a small kitchenette (better equipped than our own!); a drawing and dining room plus a bedroom, all furnished tastefully, with a batman in attendance! What more could one ask for? Therefore, we booked our accommodation well in advance at Srinagar, and also at some reasonably decent rooms in Government rest houses at Pahalgaon and Gulmarg.
Finally, all things taken care of, we set course from Delhi towards the hills. After leaving the plains, our first halt for the night was at a beautiful place called Khud. The drive next morning to Banihal pass and Batote was exhilarating, to say the least - a once in a lifetime experience.
Srinagar was a bit disappointing. Apart from the famous gardens and the Dal Lake, there were not enough attractions to fully justify our ten-day stay. It was like any other town in the plains. The Moghal gardens, however, were simply out of this world, a feast for the eyes. We wanted to carry the memories of this trip so we went down to the Army canteen and bought a Click camera for the paltry sum of thirty rupees, plus buying a few rolls of film. It turned out to be the best investment we could make! Those black and white pictures, though sepia tinted with age, still provide great memories of the expedition.
It was our bad luck that towards the end of our stay, while starting the car, a short circuit led to a fire. Luckily, it was contained in time before the whole thing blew up in flames, which was a near possibility! The repairs left a big hole in the pocket. Nonetheless, we visited Gulmarg and then that paradise on earth, Pahalgam, the ultimate destination in the whole valley. It was nature in its pristine glory. We could chill the beer bottles to freezing cold in the stream that flowed down the hills into the town. The mouth-watering Paranthas, with generous helping of homemade butter; served with great affection by the Sardar ji at the Punjabi Dhaba down town, is still fresh in our minds. Living in the midst of nature - in a wooden lodge for a couple of days; hidden under the thick cluster of Pine trees; was a divine experience. A ten-day’s planned stay there seemed too short; one wished to settle down there forever, amongst the cluster of pine trees!
All good things, they say, come to end. Funds were running out faster than we thought. Our stay in that paradise had to be cut short. It made sense to pack up. We left with heavy heart, saying our goodbyes to the affable Sardar ji, who packed a few paranthas and pickle for the journey, refusing to accept payment!
To add to our worries, the car engine was consuming oil quite generously. It had to be replenished every three to four hours of driving! Panic had set in; the situation was getting very tense. We were desperate to make it to Chandigarh, where we could borrow some money from a long forgotten aunt, to tide us over the situation. However, by the time we hit Amritsar, it was already dark. Going any further was out of the question.
With little money left in the pocket, we had to stay for the night, and organize funds for the remaining journey. Fortunately, we spotted a taxi stand run by ex-servicemen. I explained my predicament to the elderly Sardarji, an ex-serviceman himself, who gave a patient hearing, and very kindly escorted us to a nearby hotel, where I offered to pay by cheque for food and stay, and some cash for the fuel! After a few phone calls, the owner obliged reluctantly, but advised us to visit him at his home the next morning, before departing. After our many hours of a tension, his acceptance was a great relief.
The following morning we were escorted to meet the kindly old man at his house. He seemed to be convinced by our story, and was ready to accept the cheque. However, his son had some reservations. To our embarrassment, he gave the example of an Army Captain who, in somewhat similar circumstances, had left a cheque which had then bounced! As a last resort, we offered to leave our wristwatches, or whatever they wished, as security.
Imagine our surprise when the young lad asked for our “Click camera”, worth thirty rupees, as security against the hotel bill of a few hundred rupees, plus the two hundred cash that he generously offered to pay for the petrol! We could hardly believe in our good luck. The poor fellow must have assumed it to be an expensive imported camera! We thanked them readily parting with the camera, and bolted out before allowing for any second thoughts.
An over-night stay at the aunt’s place took care of the rest of the ordeal. We finally reached Delhi, our home, thanking our stars.
Back in home, we forgot all about the camera. Three weeks later, the post-man delivered a parcel from Amritsar. It was the Click camera, neatly packed, as if it was some expensive stuff! The Good Samaritan must have spent more in packaging and forwarding, than the actual worth of the camera!
Over the years, we got rid of a whole lot of junk, but not that camera. The Click camera, which has been in disuse for ages, is still lying in the basement, as a memory of that generous old man.
Secret Garden II
Rej, Bent
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