My Tryst With Pune.- Past Days

I am associated with Pune for past fifty nine years. It is the city, I loved most. I fell in love with this magnificent place in May 1950, when I stayed here, first time, for an enchanted long spell of nearly two months of my school term break. I found it to be the place of great heritage, culture and pristine charm. Today, in this concrete jungle buzzing with mad traffic and deafening sounds, where ugly looking muscle men stare at you at every nook and corner, through their political birthday posters, I detach myself, go far from the madding crowd and sit alone in the cool shade of my quiet garden, thinking of those bygone days. My mind rushes backwards at a crazy speed and starts searching for those lost footprints on the sands of that golden era.
A bird gives away a sharp and shrill trilling note and I jump a few years in my dream sequence. It again restarts after that short interruption. I am coming back to Pune from Kashmir on my annual leave. Few years have passed in between and now I am a commissioned officer in the Indian Army. My train arrives early in the morning, before scheduled arrival. I come out of station and waive towards the nearest Tonga, the horse carriage. The interior of the carriage is artistically decorated with brass and silver metal filigree work, which is well polished. The seats are soft and well padded. There are brass handles to hold and retain your balance during fast and bumpy ride. The carriage horse is a magnificent specimen which is well groomed. After I install myself firmly, the driver orders his animal and the joy-ride begins. I pass through lanes and by lanes of Rasta Peth, where ladies are busy in cleaning the frontage of their homes, followed by sprinkling of water and decorating the cleaned areas with white and coloured Rangoli. The mild scent of the joss sticks burnt in their worship rooms is pervading the entire stretch of the road. The Tonga takes a sharp turn and emerges on Laxmi Road. What a fantastic start of the day it is! No wonder it is engraved on my mind like a beautiful rock painting in a cave, which is still fresh after five decades. Soon familiar faces emerge out of doors and windows of the wada, my sister’s abode. The children come out running to greet me as for them I am a VVIP with nobody from my category in this entire lane. My sister comes out, all smiles. I enter the house, bow down and pay my respects to the elders in the traditional manner. They bless me and I settle down in the kitchen for a steaming cup of tea. This used to be the sequence of my arrival, every time I visited Pune.
This shocking reality derails my mind from the happy trend of thought in the serene ambience of my cool and picturesque garden, amidst little birds, dancing and waltzing amidst the foliage. I again pick up the thread and saunter in the premises of the Pune Railway Station. In my idle hours, I used to come to this wonderful spot and have some mouth watering snacks in the

restaurant on the first floor, adjacent to retiring rooms. Two buttered slices of toasted bread with two cutlets and a big cup of filtered coffee used to complete the fare. It was a clean spot with meticulously dressed waiters serving and waiting on you. The entire station used to be spick and span. There was mirror like cleanliness over here, with round the clock cleaning activity in progress. Even the staircase brass-covered railings used to be cleaned with metal polish daily, with a burnishing bright finish. No wonder, on the Platform No 1, Poona Station Master used to proudly display the Zonal Trophy for Best Railway Station, in a special showcase, for a number of years Now gone are those trophies, taking those painstaking station masters along with them. Now what remains behind is the present dirty and filthy station, managed by disinterested and sloppy staff. From Enquiry Counter to Station Superintendent’s office that magic touch is now missing. What now remains behind is so overpowering that I am now forced to beat a hasty retreat during my trysts with that place, which fascinated me once.
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Much is left to be covered on this passionate theme of mine. At a later date, I will write about all that is lost and left behind in this flow of time, I owe it to my beloved Pune.

Sharad Pitre.
05 March 2009.