“THIS is our room?” was the gasp of the moment, repeatedly heard
about six times in different voices. And yet, the common element of mild
disgust hardly managed to disguise itself as surprise.
A four peeling-pink walled room, with two wrought iron beds placed
side by side (that creaked every time you wanted to shift your buttocks), a
single window suffocated by more black coated iron grills (that served as a
souvenir site of heated nights), a little water closet that stunk no matter
what, and all of this lighted up brilliantly under the modest yellow glimmer of
a bulb overhead: greeted us when we entered through an alley smaller than a
crowded BEST bus aisle.
Akshay Lodge on the Mumbai-Solapur Highway was still our oasis in
the middle of nowhere – at first sight. Just as we entered Bhigwan, this seemed
a promising shelter for the night before bird-watching.
And promising it was.
The beds had mattresses still
covered with plastic and cotton sheets (where they weren't torn). So,
in addition to the creaks, the plastic shuffling and a few
snores amalgamated to create a sweet lullaby at night. My Bhabhi and I
were on one bed, while my aunt lay on the other. Sweet dreams turned even more
evasive than always.
A shot of Romanov after the tiring travel should have lulled me to
sleep in no time, but the night had other plans.
As I lay on my back, slightly cold, I watched the peeling ceiling
in January’s grimy darkness. I reviewed the Lodge, and tried imagining the days
(or nights) it would have had with its tenants.
It was interesting. The lodge. At a
strategic location on the highway, just after the Bhigwan ST stop, it had a
clean and neat façade for what lay inside. Even so,
it wasn't that bad after all. All they needed was some cleaning…
some good lighting…some maintenance…some bed sheets…some painting…some
air-fresheners…some more space…and a few odd things, at max. Otherwise, the lodge
was pretty well established.
They’d provided reasonable service, too, changing the dim lighting
to a higher voltage Phillips illumination after some verbose exchange with mom.
And the food. It was good. And the evening on the terrace. With the binoculars,
we did spot a few birds outside the bird-watching zone and had a good breath of
fresh air.
The cold started getting to me and I sat up to find an extra bed
sheet to wrap up. I found a fairly less battered one and put it up on me,
gingerly avoiding my face. I continued being a good host to my thoughts,
letting them have their leisurely stroll across extravagant avenues.
The cold was getting colder, and
further creaks from my side would leave no body unturned on the bed.
I tried turning to my ventral position with the least noise possible,
and managed to pull out only a few grunts from both sides. Once I was in
my desired position, the plastic and cotton covered mattress greeted me with
the smell of unknown sweat and grime.
I tuned back to facing the peeling ceiling. This night was going
to be a long one.
The sunrise waited patiently as everyone got up to brush their
teeth. There were scenes of fingers plucking on closed nostrils while spitting
toothpaste onto the floor of the Bathroom-cum-Toilet; water and human waste
getting clogged; hot water having no vestige of existence; and the anticipation
of heading out to light.
The narrow corridors out the room presented a sense of finding
treasure in a maze.
Akshay Lodge on the Mumbai-Solapur Highway gave us all some fond
memories and updated lists of the worst places we’ve ever stayed at.
It gave us: Ek Raat Aisi Bhi.
Or, as modesty would have it, my Bhabhi urging me to write an
anecdote of the same.
As for me, I had plans of my own. And thankfully, clean bed sheets
to look forward to.
