My elder son was visiting India for the second time, the first time after taking up a job. The younger son was in his third year of engineering. Being summer holidays, a trip was planned to the gorgeous Kulu-Manali. My elder of the younger sisters agreed to join us with her family. They were traveling from Mumbai. She has a daughter and a son, in a similar age group to my sons, and the foursome hit it off well with a vibrant relationship.

Planning was not easy. The internet was something I had heard of but never experienced. One of my colleagues, who was an avid traveler, helped me book hotel rooms in Manali and guided me on the spots to be visited.

The organization of the tour was left to me. The two families were to meet in Delhi. Accommodation was booked for them in Delhi for a day. Through another colleague in Delhi, a van was organized to take us to various places. The plan was to meet my sister’s family in Delhi, travel by van to Chandigarh, stay there for a couple of days, and then proceed to Manali in the same van. My colleagues were all so good. In Chandigarh, one of them promised to book a comfortable rest house for us.

Taking the van from the airport and picking up my sister’s family, we were on our way to Chandigarh. By the time we started, it was 10 p.m. The entire family was hungry. The driver assured us the whole route was filled with great dhabas. Randomly picking one, with great delight, all of us got out with the dominating idea of gobbling up whatever the dhaba could offer. So hungry, we didn’t mind the swarm of insects that were not only circling the light but, with great determination and intent, endeavoring to crash-land on our plates. How many succeeded and how many we swallowed with our food in the great hurry with which the delicious chapatis and side dishes were vanishing into our tummies, we can never find out. We presumed all was good because no one fell sick. These dhabas are wonderful places to eat: simple seating, homemade food, fresh and crisp, tastebuds stimulating, and wholesome. If they could avoid these tiny souls of insects from interfering, it would be that much better. Remember, I am talking about the late 1990s.

Without even remembering or bothering to call my friend from Chandigarh, we reached at 3 a.m. Unhesitatingly, we knocked on his door. The first question he asked was, “Why didn’t you tell me you will be late?” What a fool I was. Anyway, being the good Samaritan he was, we were welcomed. He was a bachelor, the same age as mine, and was sharing the flat with another official.

With great anticipation, when I asked him to direct me to the rest house, with a gentle and mischievous smile, he said, “This is the rest house. If I had told you earlier, knowing you, you would have refused. Why pay money when my flat is here with three big rooms?” Great guy. Staying there for two days, we toured Chandigarh with its wonderful rock gardens, artificial lake, cricket grounds, and so on. Chandigarh was lovely. Nicely planned with sectors, each sector having its own shopping complexes, residential areas, temples, and other places of worship. All one needed was available in each sector. Shopping complexes were in vastly spread-out areas with huge parking spaces in front.

Continued in 119. Not a Himalayan Blunder - Part 2