That state called Uttar Pradesh

The following is the review of my 40-day stay in Eastern Uttar Pradesh:

Madhu Varma was that chap at school who was awful in History.

I was at the place where sometime in the early 1920s, the police station was set on fire, resulting in the calling off of the Non-Cooperation Movement. I had my market visit in the city most famous for the disputed site which got divided into 3 parts as recently as 7 days back. I lived for a few days in the world's oldest city and visited the town which has a pillar from which the National Emblem of India is inspired from.

'Look, Mrs Devanapalli, now you have to believe me. I did pay attention in a few of your lectures'.

Madhu Varma was that kid who couldn't pack his school bag to save his life.

I had to pack/unpack luggage and change hotel rooms more times than the number of zeros in a quadrillion. I have now become an effective packer with keen sensibilities in optimal space utilization and time reduction.

Look, Ma. I can pack better than even you.

Reaching inaccessible places by travelling in a tractor, listening to village elders discussing politics under a big banyan tree, watching little kids fool around under the not-so-strict supervision of a disgruntled and disinterested school teacher made me feel like the character Mohan in the Bollywood movie, 'Swades'.

But then, it wasn't as romantic as it was shown in the movie. Well, on all the journeys, the passenger next to me was very sleepy and irritatingly, his head kept falling on my shoulder every now and then. And well, the village elders conversed in Bhojpuri and they weren't exactly in awe of the well dressed (ahem!), well educated (ahem! ahem!) city boy and they weren't exactly looking up to him to solve make their problems. And well, I wouldn't have been able to do a better job than the resentful, public school teacher even if I did try.

I've spent countless hours stuck in traffic (Eastern Uttar Pradesh seems like, is home to half the world's population). I have skipped more meals in the last one month than I have over the past one year. I got sick of seeing thousands and thousands of grass-chewing cows and paan-chewing humans.

Also waiting on a railway platform (populated by monkeys) for 12 hours in Azamgarh, travelling in the woeful local buses on woeful roads in Sonbhadra, riding a Bajaj scooter for 200 odd kilometers in heavy rain in Mau & Ballia on my birthday, convincing a group of prostitutes that we (myself and a company sales executive) weren't interested in what they had to offer while passing through the red-light area of Basti weren't exactly pleasant experiences. The power cuts in Gorakhpur, the heat in Deoria and the insects in Mirzapur were all killing.

But then the place had its charm. The crudeness in the language, the sun-burnt faces of the people, the earthen cups of tea.....

I hated Hubli then and I hate it now. Although living in Eastern Uttar Pradesh was quite a struggle, I look back fondly on my time there.

And when my TSE from Varanasi called me up in the evening and asked me about my well- being, I replied in my broken Hindi, 'Yaar, UP ki bahut yaad aata hai'.

Anyway, whatever!