Chapter 9

Nathan and Dhiru reached Kimpri at quarter to four. The weather here was terrible. The first thing they saw on reaching the village was that all the houses’ doors were closed. The people shut themselves in, it’s probably the cold. Nathan thought.

“We’ll have to ask someone about the Post Office. Dhiru stopped the jeep in the middle of the road, got down and sighed. This was a peculiarity about small villages; there were no shortcuts between huts. After half an hour of walking for over half a kilometer you could pretty well guess that the actual distance you have traveled from a bird’s eye view was less than a hundred meters.

He went over to a hut and knocked. A wizened old man opened the two small wooden doors and looked at him questioningly. His look seemed an unwelcome one in the cold. Dhiru enquired about the post office. Nathan could see from his seat in the jeep that the old man signaled forward and then left. Then said something and waited for a response from Dhiru. Dhiru nodded and must have thanked the man, and came back to the jeep.

“Just around the corner” Dhiru said as he sat in the driver’s seat and rubbed his hands together. He must have driven some two hundred meters forward and then he saw the post box. Its red colour was easily distinguishable amongst the dull background. Dhiru parked the jeep and they both got down.

They walked towards the Post office and saw that the road had been maintained properly only till a few meters ahead of the building. The building itself was two storied. The upper storey looked like a cheap imitation of a bollywoood haunted house. Just outside the post office, adjacent to one of its outer walls was a Police Post. It could hardly be called a Police Station, but would suffice for a village the size of Kimpri. It was a three feet by three feet cabin, with a semi-glass door. It was empty for now, except that Dhiru could see a blue colored coat and cap hanging from a hook inside it. The man must be inside the Post Office, he thought. They reached in front of the post office and saw that it had a solid steel shutter for doors. This must be the only building here blessed with that privilege, thought Nathan. Surrounded by all broken down and gloomy looking huts the post office was an anachronism. They climbed the three steps towards the counter of the post office and saw everyone inside looking at them. The lower storey was one big hall, with counters and parcels for partitions. In one corner a group of men huddled together near a hamaam. They wore a thick coat of heavy fabric in dark brownish colour which gave them an “official employee” look. One of them, seeing Nathan approach the front of the counter stood up and came to it.

“Can I help you?” he asked Nathan.

“Yes, I was supposed to rendezvous with my friends here at the post office…er… Mr. Parshuram?”

Mr. Parshuram was the Post Office Post Master.

The man in front of Nathan called aloud to the other corner of the room where a group of three men, all wearing an official black coat were having tea on a rather large table. “Saab, someone to meet you.”

Parshuram got up and approached Nathan. Before he could reach the counter, Nathan who was now more worried about his students, started to explain his situation. “I sent a letter to you, sir, explaining that I was to meet with four of my students here, and requested for you to make arrangements, for our stay…along with a guide?”

The man’s brow clouded a little and then he said smiling. “Oh! Now I remember. I had received a telegram from Palampur Post Office regarding the matter but they said they would confirm it later. I received a letter after that, about ten twelve days ago.”

Parshuram sensed that if the men were coming from Palampur they must be terribly exhausted. He asked them to follow him. Dhiru observed that the Post Office also doubled for a tea stall. The place although unorganized was not dirty and was quite warm. There were altogether five hamaams in the hall which contributed to the warm environment inside. The chimneys of the hamaams led upwards and vanished into the roof. The whole place smelt of paper and gum.

They reached the awkwardly big table and seeing them come, two others at the table vacated their seats. Parshuram signaled towards his left. It was the person who made tea and he understood. Parshuram sat at the table and Nathan sat opposite him. Dhiru kept standing. At a little distance from the table an old man sat by a small angithi with a dustpan and broom near him. He gave the appearance of one of the cleaning crew in the post office. Parshuram saw Nathan observing him and remarked “This man is mad; he lost his son up in the woods a few years back. We hired him as a cleaning man. Nice fellow otherwise. It must have been a long time since I have seen him utter a word. His name is Rampal.”

He then addressed him directly “Everything ok?” he asked. And the old man looked up slowly. There was a kind of dignity in his look. He raised both his hands and folded them above his forehead and nodded with a smile.

Parshuram then opened a drawer to the side of the table and fumbled in it for something. He took out a postcard sized envelope and placed it on the table so that it was to be read clearly from Nathan’s side of the table. It contained a telegram and a piece of folded A4 sized paper. Nathan recognized it. He had sent it from Palampur Post Office, but had also said that he would send another one and confirm his coming. Nathan had enquired about Kimpri Post Office from Palampur itself and had come to know that the Post Master was Mr. Parshuram.