It was in December 1966 that I landed in the city of Nasik – to attend an interview. And I stayed on.

The time was when the West Indies visited Calcutta to play a Test match. ODIs were unheard of in the sixties! The day I landed at Howrah station, after attending the interview, I was greeted with front page photographs of a West Indian cricketer running for his life along Outram Road – with his bat raised in the air!! Apparently, something had gone wrong in the course of play.

Coming back to Nasik – in 1966, the train fare from Howrah to Nasik was a measly Rs 34.00 with reservation charges of just 25 paise! This nominal charge entitled the ticket holder to a really pleasant journey. Unauthorized passengers never dared to enter reserved coaches. Payment of 25 paise meant that one berth of the 3-tier compartment was yours till you reached your destination. Seventy-five berths and seventy-five passengers. Simple mathematics. In order to cater to the culinary needs of the valued passengers, there used to be Dining cars attached to, especially, the Super-fast trains. The attendants of these dining cars pampered the passengers no end. They never had any ulterior motives. They wanted to make the journey as pleasant as possible. They knew that, on reaching Howrah, every one will go his way – chances of a second meeting were as remote as the flowering of a lotus in the desert! In case such an incident did take place, the dining car attendant would display his second identity – that of a poet-cum-philosopher-cum-politician. He would recite modern poems or wax eloquent on the Marxist movement or even try to enroll you as a subscriber to his very own little magazine. Yes, Bengalees have always been like that. Several identities rolled into one. The very concept of little magazines is a unique example of true Bengali culture. As and when any Bengali starts to mature, the poet in him awakens. He recites poetry, he dreams poetry, and he thinks that he is the next Tagore!! He sends samples of his literary works to Editors all over and, when such samples fail to see the light of day, he decides to go it alone. With a couple of like minded individuals and by pooling a couple of hundred rupees, a magazine is born – to cater to the literary works of the core group. Little magazines started in the sixties and, a few have really stood the tests of time and survived. Some astounding poets have come up via this silent revolution. But then, these are the exceptions and they form a different story altogether.

We are in the process of rediscovering India…..

Today the fare from Howrah to Nasik is in the region of Rs 500.00 and possessing a reservation does not, necessarily, guarantee you the comforts that you would normally associate with long distance travel. Throughout the day you would be disturbed by the entry and exit of short distance passengers and an assortment of vendors who sell anything from air-pillows to cold drinks. The friendly dining-car attendant has been replaced by pantry-car waiters who are professionals to the core. They tempt you with innumerable concoctions and no love is lost between these waiters and the passengers – to them, hungry and thirsty passengers have very little choice and accept whatever is dished out without a whimper. Breakfast and lunch come in casseroles and tea and coffee are dispensed from thermos in throwaway cups. With new Ministers at the helm, alternate methods of dispensing tea, coffee, cold drinks are being considered. Of course, the number of trains through Nasik has certainly increased over these years and you have options of traveling in ordinary three-tier sleepers or in the three-tier AC sleepers. Also, prestigious trains like the Gitanjali have regular halts now at Nasik, thanks to an earlier Railway minister. But, that is a different kettle of fish altogether.

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Originating in the mountains of the Brahmagiri in Trimbakeswar, the Godavari wends its way through the Deccan plateau and flows into the Indian Ocean, bisecting the country into two halves. Starting as a trickle, it grows from strength to strength till its confluence in the Bay of Bengal and, the first important city on the banks of this mighty river is Nasik (also called as Nashik). Till thirty-six years ago, Nasik was known to the outside world more as a pilgrimage center where kumbhmela was held once every twelve years.

I arrived in Nasik in 1967 – just one year before the kumbhmela of 1968. I was employed in Hindustan Aeronautics Limited and, whilst I stayed in Deolali, my work place was in Ojhar – a distance of nearly 30 Kms.. I used to travel by our company bus and, the only memory I have of the 1968 mela was that I had to get myself inoculated since the bus would travel touching Nasik. The inoculation was a precaution against spread of epidemics. The next kumbhmela that I witnessed was in 1980. I am not much of a believer in the fact that just by immersing oneself in the waters of the Godavari, one can wash off all of ones sins! Moreover, I was still a young man and my idea of cleansing oneself of sins was not commensurate with the thinking of others. Therefore, I did not involve myself much. However, in the next kumbhmela in 1992 I decided that enough was enough. Staying in Nasik and not witnessing the kumbhmela was an unpardonable offence like visiting Paris and not taking in the Eiffel Tower. My relatives saw the makings of Satan in me. A non believer in the Holy Scriptures deserved to be isolated in Society. Hence, throwing caution to the winds, I prepared to take the plunge. And, what a plunge it was!!

People from all over the country come here to participate in kumbhmela. But, today, there is the added incentive of participation in a very different kind of mela – the mela of Industries, the mela of IT revolution. Thirty-six years ago, one had enough leisure time to relax on the banks of the Godavari, atop the Hill Temple or amidst the Pandu caves. The only worthwhile industrial activity in those days was confined to the village of Ojhar, situated approximately 30 Kms. from the Railway station, where an aircraft factory was being set up to manufacture the sophisticated MiG class of fighters. And, of course, the India Security Press which printed currency notes and the Government of India Press which printed Stationary. The villages of Ambad and Satpur were not even in the map of the Nasik of the sixties.

Times have changed. Several million cusecs of water have flown down the Godavari since then.

Nasik today is a tremendously busy industrial center, which does not have time to even sleep. Fairly well connected by road and rail, industries are localized in the two villages of Ambad and Satpur in Nasik and Sinnar on the Pune highway. Sanction has also been granted for the setting up of STPs (Software Technology Parks) under the aegis of MIDC. The wide range of Industries, which have found permanent footholds and have become the pride of Nasik, range from Plastics to Transmission Towers. Some products have become household names like VIP suitcases and MICO spark plugs. And, to cater to the needs of people who have migrated to this part of the world, any number of eateries, shops and such subsidiary establishments have mushroomed all over the city. Not to mention a full fledged Engineering College and a Medical College. To meet the continuously rising demands of local transportation, bus routes are being extended and new ones are being introduced. Even then, during peak hours, one will have to, more often than not, travel standing. A situation which the old timers could never have imagined!

This tiny hamlet town of Nasik, situated less than 200 Kms. from Mumbai, the financial capital of the country, is poised for even further growth. Its wonderful environment used to, once upon a time, attract vacationers. Today, it attracts entrepreneurs.

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Returning to the Nasik of the late sixties….

When I came for interview, I stayed in a tiny hotel just outside the railway station. What prompted me to select that particular hotel were two large portraits of Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa Deb and Goddess Kali on either side of the Manager’s table. The room rent was Rs 8.00 and the accommodation comprised a single cot, one side table and a chair. The location of the hotel is where the auto rickshaws are now parked. Hotel Raj had not seen the light of day till then. Pavan was a still later addition, after Muktidham came into existence.

After my selection, when I joined service, I used to stay in Deolali with my friends. Most of us were into our first appointments and were bachelors. We stayed in a huge three-storey bungalow just adjacent to Sansari naka – it was affectionately known in the neighborhood as the bhoot-bungalow!  The rent for the complete accommodation was Rs 420.00 and was shared by the occupants. For dinner we patronized Vijaya Lunch Home situated just opposite the Municipal School on the main road. We paid Rs 35.00 per month for full non-vegetarian dinner. Rice was 85 to 90 paise and wheat 60 to 65 paise per Kg.! A basketful of onions could be had for only 10 paise – the basket would contain 1 to 1 ½ Kgs. Ten grams of Gold were available for as little as Rs 160.00. The ST bus fares were in denominations of 15 and 20 paise – you were not permitted to travel standing. Also, boarding a running bus or alighting from one was not tolerated by the bus conductor who was and, still is, the Supreme Commander of each ST bus. In fact, I was once reprimanded by the conductor for boarding the bus before it had stopped. The most popular two wheelers of the sixties were bicycles. There were only two varieties of Scooters – the Lambrettas and the Vespas - which were driven by a chosen few. Motor cycles were of the Harley-Davidson types of the Military Police. To commute short distances, the common man relied on the ST bus or on his own pair of feet. I have lived through such days!

Deolali of the late sixties was one of the most attractive summer getaways for Mumbaites. With the onset of summer vacations, all the Sanatoriums would be occupied with the young, the not so young and the old. They would bring with them the latest fashions from Mumbai. In the evenings, they would stroll lazily down the streets in groups, stopping to exchange pleasantries with acquaintances. Some of them would settle in the Bharat Cold Drinks House where a bottle of the original Coca-Cola could be had for only 20 paise – the same price as that of a glass of fresh limejuice! BCDH was also famous for its mouth-watering faloodas! Its patrons never seemed to be in any hurry. Other vacationers would walk down to Cathay or Adelphi – the two cinema halls, which ran English films. Or spend the evening atop the Temple Hill, an experience not easily forgotten – this landmark of Deolali was in a world of its own where time literally stood still. No fumes of auto-rickshaws. No dust hovering in the air. No obnoxious gases to destroy the freshness of the colorful bougainvilleas. There was lovely greenery all around and concretisation had not set in. The silence would be broken by the occasional clip-clop of the tongas or the sudden passing through of the State Transport bus en-route to South Deolali or one of the bicycles clanging along with its load of milk pots. Milk in pouches was something nobody could have visualized! However, the memories of Deolali that I had cherished for so long were shattered a couple of years back when I visited the place after a very long absence. It was a Deolali that I could not recognize. The smell of fresh green grass and horses at the bus stand had given way to the acrid stink of burnt petrol – auto rickshaws had taken over from the tongas. And the roads were filthily crowded with hawkers at every step.

Talking about cinema halls, the other popular ones were the Regimental and Bytco Talkies in Nasik Road and the Circle in Nasik City. And a favorite haunt of the younger generation was Bhagwant Rao’s right on the Main Road. The Regimental and the Bytco Talkies are no more. Modernization in the shape of the first ever flyover of Nasik has taken its toll!!

Of course, city dwellers had another option. That of sitting on the banks of a pollution free Godavari and dreaming their hearts out because the sixties were that period in ones life when one could expect ones dreams to be fulfilled –unlike today, where ones dreams are likely to remain dreams only.

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