Representative Image.
Credit: iStock Photo
Recently, I looked at the first item on my bucket list: to visit Kolar Gold Fields (KGF), the place where I was born and spent my childhood years. My son, who had flown in from the United States for just a week, was astonished to discover that this had been on my list for nearly 15 years.
"Dad, we're going there the day after tomorrow, once I've recovered from my jet lag," he exclaimed. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I realised I could no longer postpone the trip.
I began planning our itinerary, eager to relive fond memories. My schedule was simple. Starting with the ‘5-Lights Circle’, we would drive down to see the familiar sights: the KGF Club, whose membership was once exclusively reserved for ‘Europeans’; the theatre that screened only English movies; Gifford's shaft, the second deepest mine in the world, which would appear on the right; and further along, the company’s hospital, Spencer’s shop on the left, and St Joseph’s Convent with the English Warehouse and Cresswell standing on either side.
Next on the route was the majestic Edgar’s Shaft, which towered above the landscape like a miniature Eiffel Tower. From there, I planned to get down at the Marikuppam Railway Station and walk to our old house, just as I used to back in the day. That house, with its rooms and the swing in the garden, was to be my last destination in KGF. I wanted to wander around the playground where we once played cricket and football, and flew kites. I longed to peek into the garage where Mr Roome once laboured over his model of the mines. On the way back, I planned to stop at St Joseph’s Convent, where my sisters studied.
As we set off, my excitement grew. The drive from the 5-Lights Circle was scenic, with lush green trees lining the road. But the familiar landmarks I yearned for – the club, theatre, shafts, or shops -- were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was only an endless expanse of trees and shrubs. The road stretched on, longer than I remembered, with no signs of the places etched in my memory. We stopped to ask a passer-by for directions to Marikuppam Railway Station. “You have come too far,” he said. “Go back and you will see it on your right.”
We turned back, but the station never appeared. Finally we gave up and decided to head home. It was a disappointing anticlimax. The KGF of my dream did not exist anymore.
As we drove towards Bengaluru, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. However, my son's company more than made up for it. We chatted, laughed, and reminisced. I remembered a wise exchange between a pupil and a sage. "What is more important, the destination or the journey?" asked the pupil. “Company," replied the sage.
That was the truth of my trip – the wonderful company of my son.