Imt is some 35-40 kms from Nagpur,set right in the midst of sleepy villages called Dorli,Mouza,a distant Kohli and orange orchards.To get to IMT one has to either take a bus or own a ride.I ususally take the bus and spend the 45 minutes -1 hr ride gazing out.
Past Kalmeshwar the surroundings change visbly . You can’t help but marvel at the sharp cotrast. A vista of green,as far as your eyes can see,unfolds as you drive, leaving the city behind.Fields of wheat and vegetables abound as one moves further.Once in a while you will see a huddle of women crowding around a run down well ,loading their harvest of “Bathua”,the leaves still carrying the scent of fresh earth.
The first time I heard and paid any attention to Dorli was when I got the final acceptance letter form IMT.I couldn’t have imagined then that Dorli would grow to become an intrinsic part of my life or that it would leave such a lasting impression on my mind.
Dorli is the picturesque,little village about half a kilometere from IMT.It is where we head off at 6 am to eat a country breakfast of Poha,Jalebi and extra sweet tea. And it is as rustic as it could possibly get.Unassuming ,simple people who live simple lives and look askance at our sissy ,cityways of living.Its a refreshing change for most of us who have lived in cities all our life and read about village life only in books.
Its impossible to be not taken in by the breathtaking view.Rolling hills in the backdrop ,a pristine countryside dotted with festoons of flowers of myriad,vivid hues growing wild ,cows and goats nibbling away at grass impervious to what goes on around them ,the lilting sound of the rushing stream,the water so clear that you can see the softly rounded pebbles clearing bearing the marks of time and nature,winding trails that take you to the fields
and the villages beyond.
A little farther from Dorli,taking a detour from the main highway, probably a walk of 15-20 minutes,is the lake called Chandrabhaga.It is a manmade lake built for irrigating the fields around.As the lazy afternoon ebbs away, dusk falls and the sun plays hide and seek.The clouds take on the sensuous shade of vermillion.Redolent of life ,passion and conjugal bliss.The same hue reflecting in the lake and the wind softly carressing my hair and face.Its as if time has gone still,coagulated,and the moment will last forever.
Somewhere near the hills yonder one can see the matchbox sized train thundering away,its shrill whistle echoing.And the unmistakable tinkle of the bells around bullocks and you see men and women heading back to warm hearths and the safety of their homes.
In a life consumed by placement worries, innumerable deadlines for something or the other ,the ever depleting savings account,and relationship woes ,how we more othen than not miss out on whats right there in front of our eyes.How unaware and unmindful we are of the small ,subtle and sometimes mundane pleasures like listening to the birds,feeling the wind in your hair,watching the clouds flit by and take different shapes ,sometimes recognizable and sometimes not.
More than anything I am sure that I will miss Dorli the most when I leave.The fields ,the people,the bullockcarts,the lake,the hills…………