Diary from My Unknown Hometown… Rohtak – Part 3

When I think about Rohtak these days, I miss my childhood home more than anything else. My home, my room, the balcony, and the stray monkeys on the ledge in the balcony, I miss them all. The voices around my home, the smells of a thousand kinds, and the floating music from sources unknown and unaccounted for, still haunt me as I open my eyes to another morning, years later, in a different city, and a different home, and a different room.

I would like to believe that my home was somewhere on hills, with music of nature, cooing birds, and fragrance of flowers. I made it sound like that, no? Wishful thinking, but it does not mean in any way that I would have preferred my home to be at any other place than it was. Well, my home was at a place that was the business, political, religious, and (then) geographical center of the city. The place was and is still called ‘Bhiwani Stand’ which strikes as odd because Bhiwani is another neighboring town. So why was a place named after another city in Rohtak? It was pretty simple. Much before I was born, the starting point for buses to Bhiwani was this place, thus, the name, Bhiwani Stand. In the 21 years that I spent in that home, the name was changed to reflect one or the other politician’s greatness but the only name people remembered for use was Bhiwani Stand.

This place was not a colony, neither a lane, nor a market. For me it would always be a place that led that to other places and not a place in itself. A circular fountain at the head of a road divider gave it the shape of a lollypop. The most amazing thing about Bhiwani Stand was the roads on the two sides of the road divider. I know that sounds stupid. It’s a road divider because it has roads on the two sides that it can divide. Right? Yes, but what made it amazing were the roads that these two roads led to. These two roads led to eight other, most important roads and areas of the city. At one corner of the fountain was the Railway Road that led to the city railway station, the old-style havelis of the business communities, and numerous other important markets such as the one for Wood, furniture, and the one for grains. At the other corner of the fountain were three roads with a single opening point from the fountain. The first of these roads led to the oldest areas of Rohtak such as Babra Mohalla and Chameli market. The second of these roads led to Quilla Road. At that point of time, Quilla Road was the hub of utility as well as lifestyle shopping for Rohtak. It wasn’t a fashion rage if it wasn’t sold on Quilla Road. The third road, the Civil Road led to the rest of the city, the Medical College, schools, colleges, major residential colonies. All these three roads were really important for me. The first one had one of my best friends’ home and my favorite Chaat walla. The second one was the place to hang-out. The third was the road that led to the park and my school, and then later on my college.

On the left of the lollypop, exactly where the fountain ended and the divider began, was a turn to Shourie Market, Asia’s biggest cloth trading market. The place is named after Mr. H D Shourie, father of the famous writer and journalist, Arun Shourie. Mr. H D Shourie was Deputy Commissioner of Rohtak in the end of the 50s. Much of the development in the city is attributed to him. On the left again, exactly where the lollypop ended, was a turn to the Dairy Market. Dairies account for a huge business for Rohtak. The end of the lollypop led to a road which never had a name as far as I remember. I only knew that it led to the City Bus Stand, called as Bus Adda. The last road, on the right, at the end of the lollypop was a road that connected to the first road to my favorite Chaat walla’s shop. This was a shortcut from my home but there were a few stray bulls and cows on this road, making it scary for me to use it.

The head of the fountain had Lal Majid, a mosque, the end of the divider had Durga Bhawan Mandir, a Hindu temple. A little ahead on the road to City bus Stand was a Gurudwara, a Sikh temple. No, we were not an apt example of National Integration and Religious harmony. We were more of a demonstration of the noise that all religions blare from loudspeakers in the name of worship. We were a witness to the processions celebrating Hindu and Sikh festivals all year round. We were also a witness to the sparse Muslim population that stood out of the crowd, only on Friday afternoons.

Bhiwani Stand was a makeshift auditorium for all kinds of political functions, religious processions, and even weddings. My Dad and Granddad were fond of listening to some of the political leaders and I was fond of watching religious processions. We never really had to go anywhere except our own balcony and we would still be in the helm of things. We were the only motionless pieces of humanity in the midst of noises that journeyed across Bhiwani Stand to drive into one road or the other, to walk to destinations of savory sweets, destinations of shining sarees, destinations of religious faith, and destinations that I never could imagine.

If destinations defined people then I was the one without a definition. I was the unnoticed, silent witness, an observer and a listener, not by choice but by design. As I would stand in the balcony every evening, acutely aware that a stray monkey might jump over me, I would beat an old tin lid of a broken jar to play music to the blaring patriotic songs during Elections. I would tap my feet on floor every time a marriage procession passed. And I would lean on my elbows and clap for people dancing with religious processions. I was an observer who flowed with the flow of journeys that other people made. My journey lay in changing moods of the journeys often, not in reaching anywhere…

There are so many stories I can recount from the days of observations and pondering. I will be posting them in subsequent posts.