Category: Art

Her name is Raksha Kaur. She stands firm, guarding her precious corner at the tri-junction of Haryana, Punjab, and Rajasthan along NH 54 in Dabwali. In a corner of her house, Raksha runs a tiny store selling ‘Maniyari’ items; maniyari roughly translates to cosmetics and jewellery for women. Face cream, powder, lipstick, plastic pearl strings, rings with colourful stones, ear tops and cheap plastic toys sit on a sagging cot. Across her house two large banyan trees, older than Raksha, stand guard over her brick house and provide much-needed shade in this near-desert land. As a light drizzle and a cool breeze make for a pleasant drive, we witness a quieter battle unfolding at this bustling cross-roads.

Here, Raksha’s son, Pappu Khatri, runs a rudimentary tea stall on a prime plot of land. It is a piece of history; Raksha’s husband bought these 500 yards back in 1955 for the then-princely sum of ninety rupees. Decades later, when the highway cut through their property, more than half of their house was acquired, leaving them with a meagre compensation of just 5,000 rupees. Now, the real-estate mafia eyes the remaining land – prime corner property on the highway. The mother and son are currently battling a court case built on fictitious claims designed to dislodge them. Armed only with meagre resources but boundless resilience, this feisty duo refuses to back down.

Leaving Dabwali behind, the countryside opens up into amazing vistas as the excellent highway stretches toward Hanumangarh and Suratgarh. We are heading to meet my ailing aunt, but our journey will also take us deep into the past at Kalibangan. This 4,000-year-old site was once a provincial capital of the Indus Valley Civilization, perched on the left bank of the now-dried-up Ghaggar River. Today, this seasonal, monsoon-fed river has changed its course, flowing 50 km further west along a firm bund that stretches from Himachal Pradesh before finally terminating in the sands of the Thar Desert.

Once summer gives way to the monsoon and a cooler breeze flows over this rugged land I will come back and spend a day or two with these people to learn more about their lives and write a story about them. Till then, take care, Raksha ji and Pappu Khatri. The tea was precisely to my taste, deliciou​s – for which Pappu Khatri refused to take money.