Pipli Khera

We set off on the national highway 1 from Delhi armed with two Royal Enfields.  We were in search of the village where dad lived for 9 months in the 70's. First stop was a town called Sonepat. It has completely changed since dad was here 36 years ago but he knew which road we needed to be on. We stopped at a police station to ask for directions, they were all sat on string beds drinking chi. They obviously had all the crime under control. We declined there offer of chi but followed a cop car back to the main road. He obviously thought we might struggle retracing 100m of straight road! Just up the main road was a big public school with a sign saying English speaking. We pulled the bikes up at one of the four security gates. They were a bit dismissive to begin with but gave in to our pestering and phoned an English speaking receptionist. She sent their private driver to the gate and dad explained we were looking for Pipli Khera. He directed us further 12 km up the national highway one. Back on the bikes we counted 12 km on the speedos. We stopped at a petrol station. The owner invited us into his office and made us chi. Dad explained what we were trying to do and mentioned the name of one of his old friends, Rameshwar Malik.

The owner said 'l know that family'. He got straight on the phone and rang Sanjay who then rang Pankaj. Pankaj, son of Rameshwar, didn't believe the petrol station owner, he said don't be silly. Eventually they were convinced it wasn't a joke so Pankaj and Sanjay were in the car on their way to meet us. Pankaj was a baby when dad was in the village so didn't remember him. However he knew about dad as the Englishman who rode his motorbike too fast. Pipli Khera is a small village in Haryana, a million miles from a tourist destination which made dad's stay there very memorable for the villagers who passed on the stories to their children. Everybody we met, young and old, had heard of dad's stay in the village, it was a big thing for them to have a foreigner living with them.

We left the motorbikes with the petrol station owner and got in Sanjay's car. He drove us to the village and we visited a few buildings where dad used to stay. One in particular was a 1st floor room over a buffalo shed where he lived for three months (photo). The village had changed dramatically, what was a population of 2000 is now 5000 but luckily some familiar buildings were still standing.  When we were walking through the village a few heads popped up, one in particular over a roof parapet wall. The elderly residents remembered dad and were pleased to see him. We had chi in the courtyard, where dad used to park his bike, with the brother of one of dad's old friends and a few locals. Dad was pleased to hear that most of his old friends were still about and we were able to meet up with them that afternoon.

We got back in the car and headed back for Sonipat, where the families were now living. We met Rameshwar, the person dad spent most time with and Sanjay's father, Ved Singh. Dad was again being remembered by people as the man who rode his motorbike too fast. Then back in the car to go and visit an Indian theme park called Chokhi Dhani. It is owned by Sonita and her husband. Sonita was also from the village.
We had a nice lunch then went back to the petrol station to pick the bikes up. Then we rode to Veesan's house where they kindly put us up for the night. We were driven to Sanjay's farm to have a look around. They were harvesting basmati rice and planting wheat in it's place. The fertile land of Haryana allows two harvests per year, one of rice and one of wheat. They showed us their buffalo and cow sheds.

That evening we returned to Chokhi Dhani theme park and met Sonita and her family. There was a Rajistani cultural experience with dancers, music, camel rides, magicians and traditional food. We were invited to Sanjay's car in the car park for a few beers. It seemed to be quite a popular drinking spot because alcohol was not served inside Chokhi Dhani. They ordered pakoras and bhajees which were delivered to the car. After beers we went back inside to the Rajistani restaurant where we sat on the floor and ate a meal off banana leaf plates. It was a good evening which we spent most of the time eating and drinking.

Lots of people we met recalled a story from 36 years ago. When dad was at the village he had to do some work on his bike so went to the bike mechanic in Sonepat. Lots of locals crowded around dad and the mechanic. The mechanic had heard dad's bike was fast in comparison to theirs so asked dad how much horsepower his bike was, he replied with 68. The most powerful bike in India at the time was 8 horsepower (measured in a slightly different way). The mechanic made a joke and everybody laughed along with him at dads claim, he said this foreigner doesn't have a clue, his bike can't be 68 hp. Dad said 'get your helmet'. He took the mechanic out and opened it up down a straight, through an s-bend and over a hump back bridge. The mechanic was actually shaking and white with fear when he got back. We learned on this trip that the mechanic had told his Indian friends some time after that if he was offered every property in Sonepat  (population 20,000) he wouldn't get back on that bike! We went to the same courtyard where the mechanic was based 36 years ago (photo of gates).

Later on in the morning the family barber arrived and we had a shave in their front garden.

We had a brilliant two days with the Malik family and their hospitality was generous and welcoming. It was excellent for dad to return and also for me to see where I had heard so many stories from throughout my childhood.

Rob