Cycling away to love

Sanjam Preet Singh

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On a cold December evening, a student of the Delhi College of Art is busy making a portrait in Connaught Place. Looking for subjects, he catches the sight of a blonde young woman in the crowd.

His signboard, “Ten rupees, ten minutes” for a portrait, draws her towards him. The young blonde Lotta asks the dark-haired PK Mahanandia to make her portrait. It is December 17, 1975 — he makes a mental note of their first meeting.

As Lotta takes a seat, PK gets nervous. His hands are shaking. A 10-minute job seems like an eternity. He gives up and apologises to her. To make up, he asks her to visit his college the next day.

They meet again and then again, and wander around old Delhi. Lotta is on a visit to India with her friends. They have travelled from Sweden in a van.

“What are your interests?” he asks her one day.

“Music. I play the flute,” she replies.

“What’s your sun sign?”

“Taurus,” she says.

‘His future wife will be musical… and be born under the sign of Taurus.’ PK recalls the prophecy an astrologer had made at the time of his birth. Will it come true? He has his doubts. ‘How can a boy born into a family of untouchables have a golden girl as his wife?’

One day, he overcomes his misgivings and tells her, “I love you.” He regrets it the moment he says it. What if she laughs or gets angry?

“So do I,” Lotta says and kisses him on the forehead.

A few days later, PK (28) tells her about his caste and she, about her ancestry. Lotta (19) comes from the family of knights and her full name is Charlotte von Schedvin.

“I am not proud of my noble caste. It doesn’t make me better than anyone else,” Lotta tells him. PK recalls the insults — ‘low-born’, the priests had called him and threw stones at him, the teacher who did not allow him to sit inside the classroom.

After meeting PK’s family in his hometown, Lotta leaves for Sweden in the spring of 1976. They exchange letters and, with every letter, longing for each other grows stronger.

After graduating from the college in June 1976, PK plans to visit Sweden. Their love has the chance to bloom in person. His meagre resources, however, discount the possibilities of flying, or travelling by car or motorcycle. “There is another way, though, on two wheels, powered by grit, tenacity and… love.”

He buys a lady’s Raleigh for Rs 60, and packs a sleeping bag, an extra pair of trousers and a blue shirt Lotta had sewn for him and sent. He is on his way to Sweden with $80 and a few hundred rupees. He marks the date in his diary: January 22, 1977.

A week after he starts his journey on the Grand Trunk Road, he reaches Amritsar. Enthusiasm gives way to despair. The previous day, he was turned away from the Pakistan border. “… It seems my adventure is over,” PK writes in his diary.

Call it divine intervention, he meets Mr Jain, an old acquaintance from Delhi, in the market. “I will buy you a plane ticket to Kabul,” Mr Jain says. “You are not unknown. I have read about you in the newspaper.” PK had become popular in Delhi after newspapers published stories about a young artist making portraits at Connaught Place. He had caught the attention of political leaders; his popularity soared after he sketched portraits of former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi and President Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed.

On the way to Kandahar, mounted on his new cycle he bought in Kabul, the enormity of the journey and the loneliness of the desert give way to despair. In such moments, the memories of Lotta and his family’s support in pursuing his destiny revive his faith.

In Kandahar, he meets a Belgian. PK tells him about his trip and the destination — “Boras in Switzerland”.

“Are you sure?” the Belgian asks. “Yes,” PK replies. He takes out a map and points to a spot. “This is Boras.”

“Yes, but it’s in Sweden,” the Belgian says firmly.

Lotta had told PK she was a Swede. But all along, he thought Swedes lived in Switzerland.

“How much further is Sweden from Switzerland,” he asks the Belgian. “About one-and-a-half-thousand kilometres more.”

Cycling through Qaemshahr, Shirgah and Pol-e-Sefid towns in Iran, he has just one thought: either be reunited with Lotta or die. He is driven only by emotions and not rational thought.

Once in Turkey, PK hitchhikes on trucks and catches the occasional bus rides.

He sets out on the last leg of the journey on a train, traversing Istanbul, Vienna, Copenhagen and Gothenburg. An Austrian girl, Linnea, whom he met in Afghanistan, arranged for his tickets.

On the way to Gothenburg, he reflects on his life in Delhi. He is reminded of the days when he did not have money to eat and a place to sleep, and of the people who fed him and gave him shelter en route; one of them arranged a visa to Iran.

At the Gothenburg Central, he alights, confused and anxious. He calls Lotta. His voice trembles. She cannot believe he is in Sweden. She drives from Boras to Gothenburg. They meet 16 months after they parted at a Delhi railway station. Neither of them speaks. They take a walk. May 28, 1977 – another date marked in PK’s mind.

Now married for more than 40 years with two children — Emelie (31) and Karl-Siddhartha (28) — PK and Lotta say there is no secret to a happy marriage, but simple, heartfelt openness to each other.

Journey of a book

Per J Anderson (54), a Swedish journalist who works for a travel magazine, has always been curious about the Indian culture. This explains his frequent visits to the country since 1980s and his numerous travel articles on India. His stories caught the attention of PK Mahanandia.

“After our first meeting in 1997, we became friends. I wrote about his life in the travel magazine I work for and then thought about doing something more,” says Per.

In 2007, he accompanied PK to his birthplace Athmallik in Orissa. “Then I realised how multi-layered, exciting and complex his story was. And I decided to document it in a book.” 

So, in 2013, he wrote a book titled New Delhi-Boras on PK’s journey in Swedish. The book has now been translated into English by Anna Holmwood. It will be released this Valentine’s Day. 

His simplicity won her

“I was attracted to PK’s simplicity. He is too naïve, almost like a child,” says Lotta. “He doesn’t feel the need to keep asserting himself and this is his strength.”

“When PK first met my parents, my father stretched his hand for a shake. But instead PK fell down on his feet. My parents did not know the Indian way of greeting elders. They thought PK was tired after a long journey and needed rest,” smiles Lotta.

Did they object to her decision about her life partner? “My parents were happy. They respected my choice,” Lotta says.

On the eve of Valentine’s Day, her message to couples is: “Spend time together without words and experience the stillness within.”

Life after

PK took up a temporary teaching position in the art department of a high school in Boras.

After the Swedish National Board of Education approved his degree from the Delhi Art College, he got a permanent position as an art teacher at Engelbrecht School.

He took early retirement to paint. He is often invited to give talks about his journey in schools and study groups. The UN has invited him to its conferences.

His daughter Emelie has finished studies in fashion management; his son Karl-Siddhartha is a pilot.