The Salted Days - Day 2

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The Salted Days – Day Two

Navagam to Nadiad | 4 January 2026

The alarm rang at 4:30 am and was immediately met with good-natured protests. Someone had clearly set it too early, according to everyone else. Morning chatter filled the rooms, including yesterday’s unexpected philosophical detour via Indian toilets and Indian thought. Laughter travels easily before dawn.

We packed, regrouped, and began the day with a simple puja conducted by a coursemate. Warm poha and tea followed. At 7:02 am, we stepped out—an amusingly satisfying sight: a group of 60-plus walkers ready and assembled fifteen minutes before schedule, like well-trained cadets.

Police escort and NCC staff accompanied us as we set off toward Nadiad. The landscape slowly unfolded—brick kilns, open fields, and birds in abundance. Large water bodies hosted hundreds of egrets and cormorants, while bee-eaters and drongos darted across the morning light. The sunrise was majestic, almost ceremonial.

Yet, alongside the beauty was a sobering sight: plastic litter everywhere. Village roads strewn with garbage, an uncomfortable contrast to the serenity of the fields and birds.

We passed through Navagam, Bherai, Dhathal, and Govindpura. Cows tied outside almost every home, villagers stepping out to watch this chattering procession of senior citizens walking past history and real life. Near one large water body, we paused longer, watching the birds in quiet appreciation.

At Vasna Bujarg, we joined the main highway and stopped for tea—excellent ginger tea that seemed to restore both body and conversation. Historically, Gandhiji’s path here involved crossing the Vatrak river, with villagers reportedly lining up bullock carts tied together to help the marchers cross. Even today, there is no bridge. 

We detoured via the state highway, bypassed Matar, joined the National Highway, and then walked along the Golden Quadrilateral road. Traffic whizzed past as we trudged forward, passing beneath a newly constructed overbridge that will soon carry the Bullet Train between Mumbai and Ahmedabad—a striking overlay of timelines.

Matar, we learned, is a tehsil headquarters with 26 villages under it. Apart from issues related to illicit liquor distillation, it remains largely peaceful—an insight picked up along the way.

About fourteen kilometres short of Nadiad, we rested at a farmer’s hut, legs stretched under the shade. Lunch followed at Guru Nanak Hotel—rich and slightly spicy, tempered by generous glasses of cold masala chaas. We also shared a tea break with the policemen walking alongside us, moments of camaraderie that quietly bonded the group.

By evening, we crossed Dabhan and entered Nadiad—a bustling town of villas, new apartment complexes, and busy streets. Two large churches stood out as markers of the town’s layered character. Near the town centre, NCC cadets and ex-servicemen received us and escorted us through the main arterial road. Traffic slowed, then stopped in places. I caught myself smiling at the irony—had I been in one of those vehicles, I might have protested too.

At a major junction, we were asked to garland a larger-than-life statue of Gandhiji mounted on a ten-foot pedestal. Imagine our plight. After nearly forty kilometres of walking, climbing iron stairs with traffic halted all around tested both balance and resolve. We smiled, posed, accepted the moment—and then moved on.

The final kilometre brought us to Santram Mandir. Rooms with basic amenities awaited us. A hot water bath felt like a blessing. We met the Maharaj of the Mandir and later shared a delicious dinner served by young volunteer boys—simple, sincere, and deeply satisfying.

Seventy-five kilometres now behind us. Thighs and calves creaking, but spirits undiminished. Tomorrow’s walk to Anand is shorter. Step by step, we are drawing closer to Dandi.

Today’s lesson -  Life slows down as we walk. Driving through in a vehicle everything disappears in a blur. 

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