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Yatra

It all had begun with a telecon. I was asked to suggest ways with which to make female readers feel more connected to a certain daily paper. No one ever told me what happened about my esteemed views but I got a call to attend an all women's journo's conclave in Bhopal.
As a rule I detest all kinds of congregations and gatherings, where I am on unfamiliar grounds or among half-baked acquaintences- that too women. But as anyone might guess that I would not have been writing this piece had I been able to get myself out of the situation.
On a not-so-hot afternoon, thanks to my travelling companions, we managed to miss teh bus that was to take us to Delhi. Anyhow we loaded the luggage and selces on to a taxi and headed out of the city. Though we reached the railway station an hour before the train's scheduled time yet boarded the wrong compartment owing to the fact that the woman who guided us to our seats was looking at the return ticket rather than the current.
And then, when after a lot of running around we managed to reach our seats we were told by a kind stranger that the train had no pantry car and hence no food till we reached Bhopal.
If you have to undertake travel in any part of India, you are told a hundred times not to talk top a stranger and even a greater numebr of times to not to take anything to eat from a staranger. Un/fortunately ew did nhot have much choice and had to share the kind gentleman's biryani.
So much so for the yatra, but one look at the hotel where I was to stay made me forget all woes. A breathtakingly beautiful lake welcomed us as the sun rose from the horizon. An early fisherman was spreading his net on the waters as his son looked over with sleepy eyes.
I wondered like a sleepy cloud.

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