Niti

Kamalesh Sharda

Description

Human psyche recalls the past from time to time. The pull to go back to the roots is strong and sometimes obsessive.
Deepak a second generation, successful son of a London businessman catches the bug to find his roots. To get relief from the rat race, he plans a trek to the Himalayas.
The therapeutic effect of walking alone in the mountains in serene nature he falls in love with the surroundings. The ancient historical contributions of the Himalayan region, mesmerizes him.
He takes a ride to Niti village from a fellow traveler. Unfortunate accident kills his companion injuring him badly. The villagers take care of him and nurse him back to health. He falls in love with his nurse. Deepak’s parents travel to India in search of their son. Unknown to Deepak, his father belonged to the area. He had abandoned his parents in search of a better life in the UK. Realizing his mistake, he commits to bring prosperity to the villagers. Deepak sets his roots in the village by marrying his nurse, Priti.

Sujets

• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 20 janvier 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669807834
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

NITI
Kamalesh Sharda

Copyright © 2022 by Kamalesh Sharda.
 
ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-6698-0784-1

eBook
978-1-6698-0783-4
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 07/05/2022
 
 
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
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CONTENTS
Dedication
Acknowledgements
 
Chapter 1:Rat Race
Chapter 2:In The Mountains
Chapter 3:Dehradun
Chapter 4:Joshimath
Chapter 5:Leaving the Capital
Chapter 6:Rishikesh
Chapter 7:On to Joshimath
Chapter 8:Joshimath
Chapter 9:Trekking Day 1
Chapter 10:Day 2
Chapter 11:Malari
Chapter 12:To Niti Village
Chapter 13:Niti
Chapter 14:The Tragedy
Chapter 15:Vigil for the Patient
Chapter 16:The Police
Chapter 17:Recovery
Chapter 18:Farmer’s Chores
Chapter 19:A Day at the Meadow
Chapter 20:Timarsain Mahadev Yatra
Chapter 21:Mahamrityunjaya Mantra
Chapter 22:Timmersain Mahadev Yatra
Chapter 23:Langar, Communal Meal
Chapter 24:Walk by The Dhauliganga River
Chapter 25:The Next Step
Chapter 26:Call from Inspector Ramesh
Chapter 27:Parents in Search of their Son
Chapter 28:Miracle Narrated
Chapter 29:Back to the Roots
Chapter 30:Formal Homage to Parents
Chapter 31:A Meeting on the Rock
Chapter 32:A Day in the Life of a Village Woman
Chapter 33:Homage to Barfani Baba
Chapter 34:Dronagiri Baba
Chapter 35:Dhara Site Preparation
Chapter 36:Home Coming
Chapter 37:Last rites for Dhara Landslide Victims
Chapter 38:Peace for the Departed Souls
Chapter 39:The Media Stampede
Chapter 40:A Night of Relief
Chapter 41:A Day Out
Chapter 42:The Proposal
Chapter 43:Return to London
Chapter 44:Dismantling from UK
Chapter 45:Homecoming
DEDICATION
I want to dedicate this book to my mother Kaushaliya Devi Sharda (Late) and my brother Dr. Arun Sharda (Late).
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I wish to acknowledge the contribution of my son, Vinay, and all the members of my extended family and friends in Canada, the USA, the UK, and India in providing material and support for this project. My special thanks to my brother, Surender, my sister -in-law Santosh, and my sister Sushma for helping to edit the manuscript of this novel.
CHAPTER 1
Rat Race
“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a multi-million pounds sterling project. We cannot afford to let it slip through our hands. A lot is riding on successful winning of this contract. I want you to go over each detail with a fine-tooth comb. The final version of the contract will be discussed in the presence of the Managing Director on the 19 th of February. Shirley, please stay behind for a few minutes after the adjournment. Thank you all,” stated Deepak, the business development manager.
Shirley Howard was the senior most member of the business development team at George Steven Limited. She had been successful in increasing the sales each year, over the decade. This was quite an achievement considering the difficult years after the worrisome exit of the United Kingdom from the European Union.
“I do not have a good feeling about the contract in its current form. What is your opinion Shirley?” asked Deepak with a worried look.
“The service content looks good. I think the price is going to be an issue. In normal times even that may not have been a hurdle but the political scene has changed. We will have to be better than our nearest competitor by a mile. If you see what I mean, “replied the team leader.
“I think I do. Where do you think we can cut some fat?” inquired the manager.
“I am not sure. The team will have to reduce the price by fifteen percent. We can show a lower price by eight percent and keep a contingency of seven percent if deemed necessary,” suggested Shirley.
“That seems to be a tall order. I need not over emphasize the need to secure this deal. Do you mind working on your proposal with the group and keeping me in the loop?” concluded Deepak as he picked up his jacket.
Shirley nodded and they left the conference room on the 39 th floor of the Thames Tower overlooking the historical river flowing through the heart of London. They shared the elevator and expressed their desire to escape the stressful life even for a week or so. The short period of relative peace of the conference room was a far cry of the hundreds milling around on the ground floor. Deepak could hardly hear the bye from Shirley as she took her own route down the steps to the street.
The din grew louder as he crossed the street to join the crowd of well dressed people walking towards the Liverpool underground station. He once again felt like a no body amidst strangers. Grim faced people walking in one direction like zombies. The impending project in mind made him forget the surroundings as he merged with the pedestrians.
Liverpool underground station signs appeared. The crowd turned and poured into the station entrance devoured by the opening. Shoulder tight rows of pedestrians descended down on the escalators. Generally calm with occasional individual venting frustration on anyone trying to jump the queue.
“How long do I have to be part of this rat race?” wondered Deepak.
He took the next train which was fully occupied. As usual, he resorted to standing all the way.
He reached home at six thirty, an hour and half after leaving the office. The front door of the palatial home was open.
His father had immigrated to UK at the age of eighteen from India. An acquaintance in the restaurant business had sponsored him. People called him Mo, an abbreviation of his real name Mohinder. He had worked his way up and saved enough money to start his own restaurant business. Learning from other Indian expatriates, he saved enough money to buy a house. Being alone, he rented rooms to new immigrants and paid off the mortgage in five years. Discovering the formula, Mo purchased several properties. The shortage of housing in London had escalated the prices to an extent that had made house ownership out of reach for most first time buyers. Hot rental market provided incentive to owners to leverage their holdings to invest in newer properties. Mo had become a millionaire at the age of thirty five. He was able to buy a mansion in an elite area of greater London. He had fallen in love with a patron, and they were blessed with a boy. He had high hopes for his heir.
“Hello, anybody home?” shouted Deepak
The high cathedral ceiling echoed back his voice with no response. He removed his jacket and threw it on the living room sofa to investigate where his family was. He tried the back yard.
“So, there you are mom, “shouted the son.
“Welcome home, darling,” replied Shreya emerging from behind the rose bushes twenty feet away.
“I thought you would be waiting for me at the door, the way you used to do a few years back,” teased Deepak
“I am getting old my son. It is time you got married so that you can be pampered for the rest of your life,” retorted the mother.
“By the way Margaret had called asking for you. She was complaining you don’t return her calls. She is a good girl son. Margaret would make an excellent life partner for you,” commented Shreya.
“What is for dinner mom, I am starving?” said Deepak, changing the topic.
“I am waiting for Mo. He told me he would be back in an hour. It has been three hours all ready. He is probably yapping with his friends in the Staggs Head Pub. He will be stone drunk by now,” complained Shreya.
She left her chores and headed back into the house to make her only child, an English dinner. Deepak went to his room on the second floor to change.
“I will set up the table,” said Deepak
“Put out only two sets. I have no idea when the old man will return. Who knows he might pick up his favorite fish and chips on the way home,” said Shreya.
He could have at least called in,” commented Deepak.
“You know how he is. He has an opinion on everything. He is probably sitting somewhere and criticizing the move to get out of the European Union,” Shreya pointed out.
“May be I should call him to make sure he is ok,” retorted Deepak, picking up his phone.
The call went unanswered.
Mother and son commenced their meal. Then the phone rang and it was Mo. He was on the way and he had picked up fish and chips.
Minutes later Mo showed up and joined the family for dinner.
“I am sorry guys. I had stopped over at the pub and could not tolerate my pub mates praising the Prime Minister for taking UK out of the European Community. They are an ignorant lot. It took some time to put them right,” said Mo.
“I guess a few beers were part of your arsenal,” interceded, Shreya.
“Well you know that helps the thought process,” said Mo.
“That is the first, dad. You make your own science as you go along. I give y