No place like Hindan

When I say Hindan is heaven on earth, believe me. Air Force Station Hindan is a small township in itself with two small shopping complexes i...

When I say Hindan is heaven on earth, believe me. Air Force Station Hindan is a small township in itself with two small shopping complexes irreverently named after Delhi’s two biggest marketplaces, Connaught Place and Chandni Chowk. A vast lush green golf course with peacocks and wild rabbits make it a lovely place to loaf around.

But it is its people who make Hindan a perfect place to live in. When I say people, I mean the residents and the shopkeepers, subziwala, doodhwala, kiranewala et al. Being in the Indian Air Force, my husband gets posted out every two or three years. I have seen many Air Force stations in the past 20 years. It may sound bothersome to move every few years but it has a charm of its own — one can see different places and meet different people. Now we have got used to the idea of moving to a new place just when we have settled down comfortably. For us, settling down comfortably means having an honest domestic help, a doodhwala who believes in mixing only the minimum quantity of water in his milk, a subziwala inside the campus and a kirana chap who can deliver things at your home at short notice when an unexpected guest lands up. And then, the posting order comes, disrupting everything.

As it happened when we got posted to Hindan from the beautiful city of Bangalore. Frankly, I hadn’t heard much about Hindan and was a little apprehensive of going there. But once there, the friendliness of the people made us comfortable from day one. Be it Tinku the kirana guy, Pappu the doodhwala or Mr Arora the postman, it was a big family and we were its newest members. Talking about Pappu, he was not only very friendly but a chatterbox too. He was never in a hurry to go back and never ever asked for money. In fact, there was many a time that I had to pay him in thousands because I kept forgetting to pay his bill and he wouldn’t ask. When I told him to remind me every month for money, he showed me his overflowing wallet and said, ‘‘Memsaab, mera ghar aapke paise se thodi chalta hai’’ (I don’t have to depend on your money to run my house).

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Then I remember the day, a few years ago, when we heard of Lord Ganesha drinking milk. Well, I was very curious, but did not get the chance to catch a glimpse myself so I asked Pappu the next day whether he had offered milk to the deity. His reply was prompt, ‘‘Naa ji, Ganesh Bhagwan pani mila doodh nahin peete’’ (Oh no, Gods do not drink adulterated milk).

After two years, when my husband got posted to Leh — a non-family station — I had to stay back at Hindan with my children. But on each visit home, my husband got a rebuke from Pappu, ‘‘Saab, don’t you get food to eat there? You have lost so much of weight.’’ ‘‘Kya karen, Pappu, wahan mess ka khana milta hai.’’ he would reply jokingly, ‘‘And it is worse during winters as we don’t get fresh supply everyday. On top of it we don’t have a Pappu there to give me milk.’’ ‘‘OK saab ji, I will get you gajar halwa made by my mother. That will be good for you.’’ ‘‘Oh no Pappu,’’ I intervened at that juncture. ‘‘I will make it for your saab.’’ ‘‘Arre memsaab, you can’t match my mother’s halwa,’’ our milkman laughed, ‘‘After all, you get milk that is full of water.’’ And he did bring gajar halwa the very next day; it was indeed the tastiest halwa I have ever had!!

Now we live in a big city called Delhi. It is a nice and cultured metropolis. But we still miss the affection and closeness that the loving people of Hindan so generously shared with us.