A rainy night. I am on a rickety old Punjab Roadways bus from Delhi to Chandigarh, Punjabi folk songs playing in the background. Water dripping from the AC ducts. The young man seated next to me seems to be ignorant of everything and is snoring loudly. I pretend to sleep but the volume of music is way too loud for me to drift away. So, I decide to keep looking out of that window in search of stories. We pass many a fields, all of which look the same to me in dark. I know the stories were lurking around in darkness, but somehow they refused to open up at this time.
It’s raining heavily, raindrops land at my window and I follow their trails from top to bottom, where they all merge. I long for the fragrance of rain water mixing with earth and making love. I curse the make-believe Volvo that I am on. It’s leaking AC ducts are making sure I don’t miss the rain, but it’s locked windows don’t let me smell the fragrance I am longing for. Punjabi songs are now done and dusted and soft Bollywood melodies of yesteryears are playing. The music isn’t loud now and I fall asleep dreaming of dimpled smiles and mustard fields as Tujhe Dekha To Ye Jana Sanam plays in the backdrop.
The rest of the night is a blur and I remember waking up to a rainy morning, around 4:45 am when the conductor announced that we’ve reached Zirakpur. That meant another fifteen minutes to Chandigarh, from where we had to take a cab to a village called Rail Majra, situated on the Phagwara-Mohali Highway, near the town of Ropar(or Rupnagar) overlooking the Shivalik range, the foothills of Himalayas. It was still drizzling when we got down at Chandigarh. The wet look adorned by the city made it look prettier than usual. Life had just got into action and I could spot a few people lazily beginning the day’s chores. A newspaper vendor passed by, trying to protect the papers from rain but the news he was carrying wasn’t really crisp anymore. Maybe damp words are best to describe whatever is in news these days.
Just when I was drifting away towards deep thoughts, I saw our cab pull over. We started the onward journey to Prakriti Farms, Rail Majra with hopes of weather playing along. Rains accompanied us throughout the journey and we reached the village in around forty-five minutes. Rail Majra seemed a village out of an old movie – bursting with morning energy, with kids playing around, cows mooing, birds chirping, and people stopping at staring at our car. We asked for directions a couple of times before completely losing our way in this small village. Thankfully, someone from Prakriti Farms (popularly called Colonel’s Farm by the villagers) offered to pick us up and this adventurous hide and seek in the lanes of Rail Majra came to an end.
A villager guided us to a piece of barren land, from where he claimed that we’ll be able to see the Colonel’s car. In no time, we saw a black scorpio coming towards us. Mr. Kaushal, who owns Prakriti Farms had come to pick us up and his gentle smile and stories of the village made us comfortable in no time. Soon, we reached our destination and were welcomed with biscuits over chai.
A round of formal introductions later, we sat there, admiring the greens and listening to interesting tales of the village. Almost nine years ago, this farm wasn’t a farm but an extended forest with bushes all over. The land belonged to Kaushal family who then decided to start this project and call it Prakriti Farms. True to it’s name (meaning nature) it is now an almost self-sufficient ecosystem in itself. It must have been a mammoth task to convert that wild forest into the perfect farm that it is today.
So far, this was way too much action for someone like me who is not a morning person. Strangely, this was a rare morning in the sense that I was loving it. The chirping of birds added a charm to the whole thing. But then, we decided to check out our tents and moved to the guest area. We were in for a pleasant surprise that looked like the picture below.
The tents were kind of luxurious for a farm-stay and we loved the fact that they were named after varieties of trees. Ours was called Gulmohar, which happens to be one of my favourites. The rust colored interiors matched that name. Even though we had just come to check out the tents, it was so cozy here that we decided to stay in for a while and enjoy our Gulmohar abode. We drifted off to dreamland soon, with pitter-patter of raindrops playing a perfect lullaby.
An hour later, we got up, got ready and joined the Kaushals for breakfast. Now, a trip to Punjab is incomplete without aalu-parathe and lassi and that’s precisely what we had for breakfast. I gulped down two glassfuls which was a first in life for me. Conversations over a hearty breakfast gave way to life-stories and we started getting a feeling that we’ve known the family for not just a few hours but forever.
How much ever I try, I can’t possibly sum up the experience at Prakriti Farms in a single post.There are way too many tales, too many experiences, too many firsts that unfolded here along with a little story of my own. Even after a week of coming back to jungles of concrete, my heart warms up just at the thought of time spent in nature’s lap at Prakriti Farms. Maybe that’s why I want to halt right here to savour the moment, preserving fodder for my next post about the farm.
A huge Thank You to Punjab Tourism for this perfect weekend getaway! To know more about Prakriti Farms, click here.
What an enlivening write-up!! While reading it, I’ve actually relived my imaginations and dreams of visiting the villages in PUNJAB – AAAhhhh!!! The name itself shout-out about it’s both the sides of vividness and serenity. Lovely Clicks especially of the tent (one of my imagination of living in a small cottage 🙂 ). This has awakened the dreamer to go and experience the one in real. Very beautifully portrayed (like a poetic composition).. Thanks for sharing!
Waiting for the to be continued part as well.. 🙂
It’s enjoyable to read articles and stories. I grateful that you shared this.