A story that is full of leftover jumbled memories and the hypnotically intoxiating Music . The year 1988. I was with Mudra, Ahmedabad, and one of the accounts I was responsible for was RSWML, the manufacturer of the MAYUR brand of fabric headquartered at Gulabpura, Bhilwara.
At least twice a month, one would take an overnight train to Ajmer and then a Cab to Gulabpura to meet Shri Ladhajee (MD- RSWML). Before taking the all-white ambassador cab, one would find time to pay respect at Khawaja ka Darbar, the Ajmer Pir Dargah.
The drill was slightly different if there were no berths available on the overnight train or the meeting was suddenly called. In that case, one took the day train reaching Ajmer around 5 PM and then drove to Gulabpura in time for dinner. The night was spent at the factory guesthouse.
This story is about one such meeting. I was to go for the meeting alone as my direct boss, Raju Bhai (Mr Murugesan), was busy. So, it was the day train one took to Ajmer.
The train was delayed, and it was 8 PM by the time I reached Ajmer. The regular taxi driver was waiting and one left for Gulabpura. It was just a two-and-half-hour journey, including the halt for dinner at some roadside Dhaba.
It did not happen as planned. First, a punctured tyre some 45 minutes’ drive delayed us. Then there was a diversion due to an accident between Jatiya and Nasirabad further delayed us. The decision to drive during the night instead of the morning trip seemed jinxed.
It was getting late, and I was hungry by the moment. Those days, it was tough to find any Dhaba after Nandia. The unlit highway and the rushing trucks on two-lane NH 79 ensured we drove less than 50 km/hour. It was around 1230 AM when we crossed Nasirabad.
At around 1 AM, after Kumhariya but before Bandanwara, we saw some lights at a distance. Seemed like another decent-sized town. The sound of music drifted through the silent night, and it got louder as we took the turn after the hillock music. Even the road got better.
One could hear the intoxicating Qawwali in what could only be described as a hypnotising voice. The voice taking each word in a rhythmic float to its powerful meaning. The music high intoxicating. We saw a few shops and 20-30 people listening to the performance with rapt attention as we approached the place.
I asked the driver to park the car on the side and take some rest. Meanwhile, we could also eat something and enjoy the powerful singing. I kept listening; the sense of time was lost, and it was music I had never heard.
I found myself a small cot under the tree and made myself comfortable. I do not know when I went to sleep. The next time I opened my eyes, it was around eight in the morning.
The place was totally deserted. We were not on the highway but on some dirt track, and the car was parked at a distance. The cot I was sleeping on was at the edge of the track.
It was clear that we had lost our way. I did not remember getting off the highway. I remembered the mela type situation, qawaali, singing, good food and sleeping. But, there was no stage; and no sign that there was a gathering of people that night. However, the music still sounded in my head.
There were no stalls, and I felt heavy in the stomach, remembering the fabulous dinner I ate. The body was a bit tired, which I thought was due to sleeping in the small cot.
This was definitely crazy for me. The memories were too strong to negate. The last night’s feelings, sound, and visuals were too tough to discard as imagination. And then the car parked at a distance and us not being on the highway pointed to things differently.
I woke the car driver, who was sleeping in the front seat. He was equally surprised and confused. The driver was sure, it was not the place we stopped last night and wanted to leave immediately. He had heard such stories but never thought he would find himself in one.
We took time to find our way to the highway. And just before the dirt road met the highway, we met an old man with his goats. Naturally, we stopped to seek directions to Gulabpura. He looked at me and said a prayer.
He said ‘Joh Huwa Bhoolna Mat. Kaal Raat Rasta Bhatak Gayeh Kya. Koob Gana Suna Hoga’ (Never forget what happened here, you lost your way, must have spent that listening to the songs).
Before I could say anything. He added. Eisha Hota Raitha Hai. (This is not the first time, such things do happen) You may be destined to have this experience. Kismat Aachi Hai Aapki. Har Eek Ko Nahi Sunayi Deeti Hai Who Awaaz ( You were lucky, not every one gets to hear that sound).
He was not finished. Who Toh Saab Jagah Hai. (He is everywhere). It may be his way to call you to Khwaja Darbar. Before I could ask anything, the man looked at me, said something I could not hear and left.
I shared my experience with the client, who advised me not to drive through the night next time, and that it was not safe.
I had time at Ajmer before catching the train to Ahmedabad. So, I went to Khawaja Darbar to pay my respect in the evening. As I entered, I was transported into another world. Someone was singing the same Qawwali I heard last night, and the voice sounded familiar.
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