When things don’t go as planned (Part 1): Picnic to Tanda Falls

The picnic that refused to stay on track! A tale of unexpected detours and improvisations.

Apr 17, 2024

Although I pride myself on being systematic, one cannot expect to be right all the time. In such situations, one has to improvise. In my next three articles, I present some events where unexpected developments had to be faced.

In 1949, my maternal uncle Vasantmama was visiting us in Banaras. He had just returned from the UK, having acquired a Ph.D. degree in statistics at Cambridge University. When I asked him to describe what ‘statistics’ meant, he was very happy to respond. However, he did not stop there but also went on talking about probability and expected values…and his discourse went above my head. To get him to stop talking, I used diversionary tactics. “Uncle, how about a picnic and car ride?”

This change in topic arose from the fact that our school holidays for Dashahara and Diwali were soon due and I had been pressing my father for a picnic and car ride. Although he had not denied the request, he had not said “yes” either. To tilt the balance in favour of “yes” I used my trump card: I said that the excursion would be more enjoyable if we arranged it when Vasantmama was around.

Father agreed, and we arranged to have a picnic to Tanda Falls and the temple of Vindhya-Vasini. We asked a reliable taxi driver whose services we had used before. We estimated that the car drive, visits to scenic spots and rest in a local guest house would take around six hours. If we set off at nine in the morning, we should be back in daylight.

The taxi driver had been told to report by eight in the morning, which he did. But he was accompanied by a young man. “This is my nephew Banvari…I find him very useful on a long trip like this. May we take him with us?” asked the driver. Banvari was a typical “U.P. ka Bhaiya”. He addressed the driver as “Chachaji”. As things turned out, taking Banvari with us was a good decision.

The car Chachaji had brought was a Chevrolet of 1940 vintage. It could seat three adults on each of its two benches. I quickly estimated: The Driver, Banvari and Vasantmama would be on the front bench while Anant and I, together with our parents, would be on the back seat. So, we could all fit in. Soon, we were on the way. My location on the back seat was just behind Vasantmama in the front seat, so I could converse with him while in motion.

My first question to him was: “Will we have a puncture today?” Vasantmama was as usual careful in his answer. He explained that if the road is macademised or has a good concrete surface, and the car wheels are in good condition, the chance of a puncture would be small. Thereafter, I kept a steady watch on the state of the road. It seemed in good condition…

…But not for long! As we left the university campus where we lived, the road condition worsened. Looking through the rear window all I could see was a thick cloud of dust. And, it was not long before we felt unevenness in motion and the driver pulled up. “Tire puncture, Sir”, he muttered and announced that he and Banvaria would replace the tire with the good spare one. He estimated that it would take only ten minutes and suggested that we could wait on the sidelines.

He was not too far off his estimate and in fifteen minutes we were on our way. But now I had my second question for Vasantmama: What happens now if we have another puncture? We have no spare tire to replace the punctured one. Because we already had a puncture, is the chance of having another puncture small? Before Vasantmama could reply the driver spotted a villager on the road. He asked: Is there someone who will repair our punctured tire? Yes, was the reply; and he assured us that the fellow is half a mile down the road. We did find him and he did the repair job fast. If the roads are bad there will be more punctures and repair jobs will pay! Half an hour later we were on our way with a spare wheel in good condition. “I doubt if we could have got a repair job done so fast in England.” Admitted Vasantmama.

By now we were feeling hungry and made our way to the so-called guest house. It had barely furnished rooms: the VIP room had electric lights and fans. The housekeeper had been alerted about our visit and had arranged to get the room and attached bathroom cleaned up. He also had an earthenware ‘surahi’ filled with drinking water.

An excellent picnic was followed by a siesta, and we were prepared for the next item on the program. This was a visit to the Vindhyavasini temple. The temple was on a local summit and attracted good crowds on special occasions. On the day of our visit, there was no special occasion. So we had a relaxed visit and were able to pick up a few mementoes. We were well on our way, however, when I saw the driver slowing down. “Another puncture?” I asked, and the driver nodded. But by now I was no longer upset…I knew the drill. Not being far from the temple, I was sure that a local serviceman would be found and he would do the needful.

This indeed happened, and when we set off on the highway to Banaras, it was just after 4 p.m. Using the data provided by our driver and the milestones, Vasantmama expected that we should be home by 7.30 p.m.; punctures permitting, of course.

They did not permit it! We had to stop again for puncture number 4. No one in sight but one small lane branched off to the right…perhaps leading to some village? The driver sent off Banwari in search. He returned in ten minutes accompanied by a middle-aged gentleman who introduced himself as Ramji Pandit. He was a primary school teacher. After hearing our tale of woe, he smiled and had this suggestion. There was a reasonable service location about four miles down the highway. Let the Driver and Banwari follow up on the repair work. By early morning the car should be ready to drive to Banaras. So they would drive the car and reach your house by noon tomorrow. Meanwhile, you and your family wait here for the bus to Banaras which will pass this way in half an hour if it is on time. Usually, it is about 30-40 minutes late. This looked manageable, but he improved on this suggestion. “Rather than wait at this lonely spot for an indefinite period, come with me to my house for a cup of tea and to freshen up. I will post my elder son here to stop the bus and inform us so that you can go on it.”

My father readily agreed to the plan. My mother also found it attractive especially when she learnt that wild animals like wolves and cheetahs start their search for food after sunset. But Vasantmama was not happy. He believed that the nice gentleman was a village version of the highwayman. He retained this view until we boarded the bus for Banaras at around 7 p.m.

So all's well that ends well, I felt. But it had not ended yet! Our bus arrived at the newly constructed Malaviya Bridge on the Ganges. We had to cross it to reach the Banaras side. But no traffic was permitted on the bridge from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. as some maintenance work had to be carried out. As a concession we could cross the bridge on foot…a walk of about a mile.

After all our adventure this was nothing!