The Backpacker

...But the songs were all wrong. 101.6 played "Bheege honth tere..." This was followed by some other romantic numbers and on came, "Ghar se nikalte hi..." Understand that it was early, yes about 6 am and stuck in a fog. In times like this emotions of many kind run rather high and fast. The romance brews. And one needs just a touch of the right songs to keep one going ahead. I wish, the songs were in reverse order (I had just passed the ghar se nikalte hi.....stage). Radio Four was a little better and 104.4 stuck to the ancient. Not the right song, I should say.

Weather, I say is the greatest equaliser, or the second best. Picture this: Early morning, with the visibility down to Zero, cold breeze and colder roads, one place does look like any other, dosent it? You are alone in the car, do not know what is around you, the trucks or car ahead of you are distinguishable only by the pattern of their red lights and the mist in thick swirls closing in fast and furiously...Imagine you have just got out of sleep and straight into this scene. Would you know where you are? No way. Until you turn on the radio. And if, if the radio is playing a Spanish number or Brazilian, you will not be wrong in assuming that you are in some other place.

Today was just one of those "lost in another world" days. All kinds of fancy overtook me and I was up and about on the roads at 5.13 am. No, do not ask me what I was doing out there so early. I did take a peek outside my window and saw nothing...and that actually helped me make my decision. It is not everyday one gets to wake up into a misty dream. And since I have covered 200 km to reach my office which is 30 km away from where I live. Naturally when everyone drives with their hazard on, and keep a safe 5m distance between each other, one is apt to feel a little romantic and lose ones head and feel like wandering away into the mist and get lost in it.

Thus, having swung onto a road that had no signboard I reached, after condiserable distance, another road which lead to a sand pit. Now, the piles of sand also takes on a romantic feature when enveloped in mist and on that mound of sand I sat till the mist settled into droplets on my hair. You see, the temperature also works hand in hand with the mist. It drops down drastically and one cannot help but shiver slightly when the wind catches the bare arm and back.

I was hungry. Cold is a good appetiser I found and after many many kilometers I reached civilisation...if one can call Al Qouz that. If I were to drive back on the roads I drove on this morning, i would never find Al Quoz.  It is very strange that when one gets lost, they do end up somewhere quite by chance or luck but when one is setting out to find a turn or a road, you dont. The long and short is that when I pulled up outside a hotel, weak from hunger, I was greeted by a bunch...no an army of Pathans (as we call our brothers from Pakistan) huddled around the few tables devouring steaming hot parathas! Not the one to back away from the sea of eyes, I joined them. Ah, the warmth of human touch...and tea and parathas...and I reached work just in time.

But the songs, I still say were all wrong.