Tea and Goli Baje disappeared quickly.
After an entire night on the road, nobody had the energy to be polite about food.
Bags were left wherever there was space.
A few people went looking for bathrooms.
A few spread bedsheets in the hall and slept without bothering to unpack.
Harsh, who had slept through half the journey, found a pillow and continued where he had left off.
Ratna Aunty looked around the house and laughed.
“It looks like a hostel.”
Vinayak carried a folded sheet of paper in his pocket.
The itinerary.
He and Sudharma sat on the front porch while everyone slowly settled down.
“If we leave tomorrow by seven, Agumbe first,” Vinayak said.
“Nobody will be ready by seven.”
“Eight.”
“Possible.”
“Koodlu Falls after that.”
Sudharma nodded.
“Jogi Gundi before evening.”
Pacchu walked past them.
“You organisers finish planning. Drivers need sleep.”
He disappeared into one of the rooms.
The rest of the day moved slowly.
Some people slept.
Some walked around the village.
Some sat with Ratna Aunty in the kitchen and listened to stories about Vinayak’s childhood.
By evening, dinner was over early.
The house became quiet much sooner than anyone had expected.
The road had taken away everybody’s energy.
The next morning Vinayak stood in the courtyard.
“Ten minutes.”
A few people complained.
Someone asked for more coffee.
Someone else had misplaced a camera.
Pacchu checked the Sumo.
“Ten minutes,” he repeated.
The vehicles left almost on time.
Agumbe was green.
That was enough.
People took photographs.
Changed places.
Took the same photographs again.
At Koodlu Falls, shoes became a problem.
Some left them near a rock.
Some carried them.
Some forgot where they had kept them.
Nobody lost anything.
The path to Jogi Gundi was damp.
The office crowd had become easier with one another by then.
People walked together and then apart.
Conversations shifted.
So did groups.
A scream came from behind.
Everyone turned.
Jahnavi was looking at her ankle.
A small leech had attached itself.
Three people immediately started giving advice.
“Don’t touch it.”
“Pour water.”
“Wait.”
Sudharma bent down, pulled it away and threw it into the bushes.
“Poor fellow came for a picnic,” he said.
A few people laughed.
Jahnavi looked at the ground once more.
“Nothing happened,” he said.
Then someone called him for a group photograph.
By the time they returned to Vinayak’s house, everybody was tired.
Tea was waiting.
People washed up.
Changed clothes.
Pacchu asked who was ready for Manipal.
Almost everybody was.
The Sumo and the Tempo Traveller reached the town after sunset.
A couple of pubs.
Music that was louder than necessary.
Some beer. soft drinks.
Followed by walking outside because they wanted to talk.
Pacchu seemed to know somebody in every place.
Vinayak kept checking the time.
“We leave in fifteen minutes.”
Nobody argued.
When he stood up, everyone else stood up.
The vehicles returned to the house together.
The next morning, Vinayak folded the itinerary sheet and put it into his pocket.
“Boat timings won’t wait for office people.”
That was enough.
St. Mary’s Island passed in conversations and photographs.
People borrowed sunglasses and forgot to return them.
At Malpe Beach, most of the group ran into the water.
Shoes and bags formed a small hill on the sand.
Ganavi was among the first.
Sudharma followed.
A little later he noticed Jahnavi standing near the shore.
She had not moved.
“Not coming?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“What happened? Grandmother also told you to stay away from the sea like the lift?”
She smiled awkwardly.
“No.”
“Good. Then come.”
She stayed where she was.
Ganavi splashed water at Sudharma from behind.
He turned and ran back.
The conversation was forgotten.
Evening dinner divided the group.
The non-vegetarians went to Saddanna’s small meals place.
Fish curry.
Fish fry.
More rice than anyone expected.
The vegetarians stayed back with Ratna Aunty.
Rasam.
Beans pallya.
Rice.
Chilli bajji.
A few people crossed over after hearing what the other side was eating.
Nobody objected.
On the last morning they went for Sri Krishna Darshan.
The queue moved slowly.
The same people who had been talking without a break for two days stood quietly.
Breakfast followed.
Then both vehicles turned towards Sudharma’s village.
Lunch was already being prepared.
Rice.
Dalitoy.
Pathrode.
His mother moved between the kitchen and the dining area making sure plates were never empty.
After lunch, the house scattered the group.
Some sat in the front yard.
Some looked at old family photographs.
Some rested.
Some walked through the backyard.
Sudharma was busy introducing people to his family.
At one point he walked into the kitchen.
Ganavi was there helping his mother carry plates.
“This is Ganavi,” he said.
His mother smiled.
“I know. She has been helping me for the last twenty minutes.”
Ganavi laughed.
“There wasn’t much work.”
His mother handed her another plate.
“There is now.”
Outside, someone called Sudharma for a photograph.
He went.
Jahnavi was moving quietly through the house.
She stopped near the old photographs on the wall.
She looked into the small room where he had studied.
Later she was in the backyard.
Nobody asked what she was doing.
The afternoon became evening before anyone noticed.
Bags returned to the vehicles.
Pacchu checked the Sumo.
Vinayak counted people.
Someone remembered a towel left inside.
Someone else went looking for a charger.
Everyone assumed Sudharma was coming back with them.
He picked up a smaller bag.
“The bigger one stays,” he said.
Vinayak looked at him.
“Extending leave?”
“One week.”
“Good.”
“My mother will complain if I leave today.”
Ganavi nodded.
“Come back before appraisal.”
“I’ll try.”
There was nothing more to say.
People climbed into the vehicles.
Pacchu started the Sumo.
The Tempo Traveller followed.
Hands waved from open windows.
The two vehicles disappeared at the end of the road.
The house became quiet again.
Sudharma stood near the gate for a while.
Then he picked up the smaller bag and went inside.
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