Stepping down from a new year spirit that was lost in the woods of hope & despair

 

By D N Singh

It was perhaps, incidentally, a wise departure from the breathless town lives, its scatterbrained charm and suffocating rush of life.

We were at the sky-kissing Kalinga Ghati hills and overlooking us was the century old Bungalow at the hilltop.

Couched in the lush green cluster of trees and plants it can remind all about the choice of people those days, the British officers, to have selected such a fantastic location where in winter the balmy morning sun light breaths synergy and in summer, the foliage swaying to the hilly breeze calms the nerves.

A perfect cut-out from nature for all seasons in a way and a template that still reminds of a heritage in the woods.

A cascading stone paved stairs climb up in a serpentine manner right up to the front courtyard of the forest Bungalow etched on the small hill.

The hill that stretches far off longitudinally oversees the winding narrow roads meandering through very small mud clad houses of tribal and the sight of an occasional small church comes to sight amid the patches of huts.

The spot and the environment is a domain of nature still remains wedded to a solitude that stretches for miles and a loneliness that of years which usually remain clad by misty cloth of the early mornings.

It was an unusual sight for us to notice a few sparsely clothed tribal kids loitering around still with Christmas caps and the sound of bells at the not so gorgeous churches.

We strode down the hill and walked a kilometer of so to have a tryst with a place that was what we were looking for.

One or two tea shops could be visible amid the blend of fog at dawn and the smoke billowing from their hearths by burning of fire wood, slowly flying into the nearby foliage and disappearing.

It did not take long to emerge clear from the smoky apron of the moring.

When asked for one tea shop owner gestured at us with a smile to wait till the hearth burns.

Tea at that hour in that bone-chilling cold of Kandhamal district served us like an elixir, making us realize the passage of the hot liquid through the throat and down below.

Suddenly we could notice a tall and broad shouldered man, with a little stoop in the back, heading towards the tea shop.

He was much past his middle-age, a bit broad face with unsaved beard stumps and a monkey cap on.

We made space for him on that wooden bench and he smiled at us with a nod of gratitude.

Taking his seat he said ‘Wish all a happy 2024’ in chaste Hindi and little knowing who we were, he introduced himself..Balbir Singh..and later we came to know that he was a soldier who had fought in 1971 war.

How are you here? I straight asked him.

Decommissioned after the war, Balbir Singh, was assigned with the task to join the people to oversee the rehabilitation of Bangladeshis in this part of Odisha and Malkangiri in particular.

The place and its purity made this soldier make his home carving a niche in the hill visible from the tea shop we were at. A battle fatigued soldier’s quest for a respite in the bosom of nature was obvious.

He invited us to his small house carved on a precipitous slope of the small hill, with several trees and plants making his front yard look like a soothing exception to the balding surrounding.

We were offered hot paratha and steaming hot Udhad ki dal by his wife who became a bereaved mother three years back in an encounter with Naxals in Malkangiri region  when Balbir’s son, a SOG commando, was martyred on this date 15 years back.

From that day the family never made Christmas or New Year a cause for celebration. Still Balbir Singh made us stride through his brave journey and how he is readying his second son for joining the army.

 

After a while there we excused ourselves and walked back to the Bungalow with a heavy heart after listening to the tales of bravery and sorrow of the elderly soldier.