Sight seeing around Dharamshala - Part 2

 Late afternoon we reached Bhagsu-Nag, which had the Bhagsu-Nag temple and a waterfall. Our driver kindly narrated the story of King Bhagsu who had unwittingly drank water from the lake meant for Nag Devata, earning its wrath. In the fight that ensued the king was defeated and then pardoned. The temple was created to commemorate the event, although I have a feeling some part of the story is missing here. Shiva should have figured in at some point but the tablet I had taken for motion sickness was kicking in, I was too docile to ask anything.

The modest looking temple had many steps to climb and there were quite a few people so we went to the falls which needed a wee bit of walking. Dad was too tired so he sat down at the base of the temple while I urged my mom to give it a try and join us as far as she could. She came with us till mid way from where we could see the water falling from tall recesses way above and a lot of people thronging around at its foot. There was a path off the main one, which we followed to reach the lower rocks around which the stream from the waterfall snaked through, forming little pools of water. It was so clear that you could see the rocks gleaming beneath in the sun. 

Everybody abandoned their footwear and hopped on different boulders to wet their feet. Yours truly was too lazy to part with her hiking boots and hence walked around boulders, clicking pictures to her heart's fill. When it was time to leave, I climbed back the same way I came and reached the spot my brother had stowed away his shoes. As I climbed from there I lost grip on a small nook I had placed my feet on and went sliding down the sloping rock, head first but slowly as I was told later. I knew I was falling but I don't remember trying to do anything, I don't think I screamed. I had closed my eyes and at one point it felt like I stopped, I tried to hold on to something but then I couldn't and I slid again and in time I hit water and I thought I was floating, the current carrying me downwards. I remember thinking this is how it ends. In my head I had images of me just getting washed away in the falls, like they show in movies. Then I heard my brother asking me to stand up and I realized I was being too dramatic in very shallow waters, I just had to stand. 

Luckily I was not hurt despite the rocks and boulders. My brother had cuts on his back and ankle in trying to save me, he had turned me around so I didn't fall head first. I could feel pain at my hips, right knee, my arms but nothing too major. But for someone who didn't want to wet her feet, I was soaking in water, head to toe. The hilarity of the situation or the nerves from the adrenaline rush kept me giggling all the way back into the Bhagsu Nag market where I bought my "pahadi" kurta, a loose fitting jeans and "Pink" crocs - with hearts on the sides of the sole, in white and all shades of pink and a green shrek face at the front. 

The Bhagsu Nag temple has a small "pushkarni" and a larger swimming pool. I hoped that meant there might be a changing room, which wasn't to be. So I headed to a lodge and requested for a room to change. The manager was kind enough to oblige. My brother found a place near the swimming pool to change. And our little mis-adventure meant we could not see anything more in McCleod Ganj today. 

We stopped at a viewpoint on the way and bumped into a couple of ex-army men, one of whom hails from a place near Mysore. He was narrating his story while we drank our tea and ate the local doughnuts enjoying the view of Dauladhar peaks. 

Leaving you with this lovely poem by Billy Collins called 'The art of drowning'. How perfect.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=38176

Sight-seeing around Dharamshala - Part 1

 2 April, 2022

My parents, brother, sis-in-law and I are at the most picturesque homestays near Dharamshala. Snow can be seen on the towering mountains behind the near by rows of hills. I could just stay at home curled up with one of the many books stocked up in this house, while the tender april sun dances on my face. I have a whole week to do that.

We finished our sumptuous breakfast of aloo puri and headed for a sight-seeing trip around Macleod-ganj. We piled onto a 5 seater sedan to ferry 6 people across the twisting roads of these hills. Our first stop - Norbulingka Institute of Tibetan Culture Studies came about before we could complain about being crammed into this vehicle. Once you step into this institute, the calming sounds of flowing water take over, even the bulbul needs to raise its pitch to be heard in these parts. The landscaping artist has done a marvelous job utilizing the space so well. Our guide - Lhamo - joined us shortly and took us around to a number of workshops and studios that were open that day. It is a place where tibetan art and culture is taught to willing students and they eventually find employment within the institute or elsewhere. 

As we ignorantly walked into each of these spaces, Lhamo would explain what is being taught within and the students would show us what they are working without any outward display of annoyance at our intrusion. The buddhist imagery which we are not faniliar with, we tried to associate to their equivalent ones in our legends. The painting workshop piqued my interest. The master had put up a sketch on a board at the center - it was of a diety called "Tara" sitting on a wide lotus, with curls and twists all drawn to proportion. And some students were sketching it and painting it. There were two groups of classes, one which used acrylic colors and created an embossing effect for some and the other group which did the "Thangka" painting using naturally made dyes and pure gold. My mom was very curious and walked up to each student finding out what each was drawing and her exclamations filled the room. 

In flitting from one workshop to another we had reached two storey levels higher and stepping out of this last workshop, we were treated to an amazing view of Dauladhar range right behind where we stood. After admiring this serene view we headed to the Buddha temple where the main statue was made of a head of gold and gold plated bronze body. I tried to sit idle in its quiet quarters.

Next we headed to Naddi viewpoint which is where Triund trek starts. We were rewarded with magnificent views of the might Dauladhar range up and close. These are peaks rising over 4000m which reared their snow capped heads in between swift moving clouds. With my brother's new phone which could erase any ugly power grid lines, we have some really good photos to take back home. I wish we reached here by evening and not high noon. The heat haze over exposed all the photos on my camera. 

We headed to munch some momos - surprisingly even my parents who are generally very reserved about what goes in their mouths, gulped a few of these yummy steamed momos. After this we headed to a cafe near our next tourist stop, which served some disappointing food. The tourist spot deserves a post of its own. Watch out for the next one.

Back here

Mar 21, 2022

I took a long walk to Lalbagh yesterday. But people run 21kms three times a week. (This I know from the latest challenge I've taken up!) 

Google Maps indicated it was exactly 8KM from where I stayed, which fit the precise conditions of the Bikat Challenge. I wore my boots and set out with a bottle of water. Google led me through random side streets whose residents were waking up, perhaps to my clip-clop stride. Some early risers looked up mid way through brushing their teeth, as I marched on a mission. The narrowing mud road, the odd stares from the guys cleaning their trucks, brought home the warnings on the google maps on the unreliability of the route. I turned around, undeterred, re-traced my steps all the way and took a less crazy road (for the time being).

The less crazy roads are the ones which are the main street - for people and dogs and garbage. With my new found courage around dogs, and a soft corner for people, I braced myself for the assault on my olfactory senses. I veered on a wider road without consulting the maps and added another kilometer to my itinerary. I was joined by some herding cattle along the narrow turns for a bit of a thrill and soon I joined early morning traffic on the high profile "Ring-road".

The next good stretch was next to BMS women's college, barring the brief crossing on bull temple road and soon enough I passed Bugle Rock and eased into lanes lined with well aged trees and their drooping boughs laden with spring flowers. I found myself walking along the surprisingly calm junction around Krishna Rao park and the street I had never walked on that led nicely to Lalbagh. Even with enough people around, it didn't seem too crowded and I ventured in, at the cost of 30 bucks and sunk into the first empty bench facing the lake.

10 KMs said my app, sweat soaked, sore feet, hair tied uncaringly into a bun, was worth it. The place was calm and cloudy, my mind was more the latter than former. I let myself feel the gravity of all of this. Eventually, I ended up meditating. 

So here are a few pics from the walk.

(P.S. I've been on so many walks in UK. I never felt like I had to put up a post anywhere. I could casually share things with people I know would appreciate it. Alas.)

Mirth

I try to discern some conversations
Rather, the residue of such.
Those subtle misplaced vibes -
A glance exchanged or A whisper,
A gasp held back and The sudden hush.
The very, many manipulations at play.
Indirect cues that tug at my mind,
Taunting me to lay their schemes bare.

Oh! That temptation to laugh
For not having better than to gossip about me.

Insignificant processes

If
A thousand thoughts
Racing, out pacing
The sinewy arms of comprehension
Sprint faster than a syllable,
How would you express all you felt ?

And if
Instead, they stood still,
Ran deep
And in silence,
Still, beyond detection,
How would you even feel such a thing?

Mind you,
Mess is the hidden order.

Chadar Trek

What if your toes are dripping wet? Always?
And all your five layers of clothing are cold and moist
If your backpack is full of bricks
And the zips on your bag are sharp thorns waiting to sting you at their touch
If it takes 3 attempts to tuck in and close your sleeping bag
And after you are all settled to rest, you realize you need to pee and have to go through all the above all over again!

That's what no one tells you about trekking in peak winter in Ladakh.
But that is the only thing you need to prepare for. The cold. Accept that it will beat you, leave you irritated, famished and hopeless. Accept and pray for it to get colder even, for that is the only thing that ensures that there is a proper sheet of ice for you to walk on. That is all you need to complete the Chadar trek.The will to accept and yet push yourself further. No one dies of moistness. No one dies of tiredness. Unless you let it diminish your will.

What came in handy:
Down jacket - pick one with a hood and as many pockets as possible
Fleece pant
Good woolen socks
Gum boots
Rain pants
Thermals
Gloves - inner and outer layers. Buy waterproof one with loops in it so it can stay on your hand even when u dont want to use it.
Balaclava
Woolen cap - choose one with ear flaps
Thermos flask to keep your water warm
Vaseline and sunscreen

What was not needed:
Sun hat - you can manage with wollen cap/bandana
Spare inners - you'll never want to change unless you fall into the water and are wet.
Liners - you won't have time or patience to slip into that
Trekking pole - a nuisance when walking on solid ice. doesn't help much on rocky paths either.
Trekking shoes - you won't have patience to tie lace. pick something that is easy to slip into and has a decent grip.

Just have a spare for all the clothing needed. 
Cut all your nails before you leave for the trek
Do enough squats to be able to sit on two rocks long enough to shit.
Carry enough bandages, tissues and sanitizers
Carry an antiseptic cream/anti bacterial powder
Carry some turmeric, pepper powder and drink with hot water/black tea to avoid catching cold.
And walk. Listen to the crumbling ice under your feet, feel the rhythm of your stride, feel the snow fall on your face, smile some and walk.

The Aryavarta Chronicles

Aryavarta Chronicles. Just finished reading this trilogy. What do you expect when you know much of most of the story? Well, the first 2 books held nothing remarkable,but this last one just left me unsettled. Like I wished there were more pages, like this story should not have ended, at least not with me feeling like this, bereft.

I had started reading this in the hopes of getting a different perspective on Draupadi, one of the few intriguing female characters you could ever find in an Indian context. But in the end I seemed to have sympathized with characters I never gave a second thought about before. Like Abhimanyu, Uttara, Balabhadra. I think I am mourning more than any for the death of Krishna. For he had come to represent hope and smiles, someone who could turn the tide in my favorite character's favor, I think I feel most for the fact that Draupadi will no longer get to see him and is doomed to her life here on earth.

The Epilogue though was most fitting.

I think I enjoyed the journey this series provided. More towards the end even with, or perhaps just for, the lingering wishful feeling it left me with.

Now, I can.

Another Saturday afternoon, she shut her laptop nonchalantly. Her dad flung the newspaper aside.

 

She was tired of the newsfeed on her Facebook wall. Everyone seemed to be going places-the single guys on their backpacking ventures, the happy couples on their never ending honeymoon, the single girls hanging-out with their buddy groups. She wanted some part of each of these. For long now, she had imagined her life to be tagged #Backpacking #Happy #Single. If only....

 

Her Dad was frustrated to read about yet another rape case. He looked at his daughter. Their recent conversation still nagging him. He knew how much she loved being outdoors and how good she was with her camera. But his concern had weighed more than that when he had refused her taking up a challenging assignment as a travel photographer.

 

The next day she found, gift wrapped by her bedside, an ASUS Zenfone with a note:

"Go for it, but know that I'll be waiting to hear from you"

 

He was genuinely happy seeing her excitedly checking all the features the phone provided. And suddenly.. like magic...she was no longer there. Panic struck him as he was desperately clawing at where she had stood a second before. She could not understand why he was calling her so alarmingly. She locked her phone and tried to calm her Dad. But he seemed all the more shocked at her touch.

 

"Where the hell did you vanish!" he stammered still half-believing his own eyes.

She had no reply as she had stood exactly where she was. Her mind wandered to the feature she was checking: The Cloak. Grabbing her phone and reading about it, she realized she now had the power she longed for. Unlike Mr. India, She  knew the technology behind this. She would appear to vanish while her mobile took care to re-construct her background visual; masking her presence, fooling everybody around. Her own technology assisted Invisibility cloak.

 

This was her superpower. A safe escape during any life threatening situation.[except the bears and the rest of animal world]. Working at odd hours, walking on empty streets, star gazing, catching that breath-taking sunrise, she could go any place anytime without a fear of harm. Without having to find a safe hang-out group. Without her Dad having to worry.

 

Her poster perfect pictures now say #Backpacking #Happy #Single

 

Check out this link http://www.asus.com/campaign/zenfone/IN/ to find out more about this incredible mobile. Who knows what super power you might unravel.

 

 

I, me, myself

If similes are excused, I'd be the Supernova.

Collapsing in the gravity of my own thoughts

(con)Fusing every matter to a momentous implosion 

Beyond which, I'd remain just a whiff of air.

My paradigm

Only they can pen jolly
Who can submit to his heart.
I can afford no such folly,
For many a secret might be persuaded by words
A few past memories, the incessasant fall,
The occasional Spring and Summer warmth or may be all


If I had to let it be known,
My existence questioned, truth be shown?
Let the flower bloom sheltered away from the world brutal
They are mine alone. Pain or joy, simply beautiful!

Net-self not self?

This post has been written for http://blogjunta.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=143:2011-04-22-06-08-01&catid=34:tgd&Itemid=139


Do people reveal their true self Anywhere at all?
The apt answer would be - Not willingly!!

We as humans would always want to put our best foot forward, flash our pearlies, bat our eyelids and hide our dirty feet in Nike. But mind you, the smelly socks are up for everyone's attention. Lets face it most of the people are looking for acknowledgement from people across the globe. And its often too hard to be true in front of the mirror. We definitely want to project our best, want to sound correct, look great and wear the right attitude. Of course it’s all about how one "appears", honey!



But then, personality is something that seeps through even the most powerful barricade. It’s the subtle things that can tell a lot about a person. A little attention and you can find out a lot about them. An offhand remark about women or even racist overtones can be caught by following a person on the net for some time. One can be guarded or superfluous but one can sure whiff the scent of their true selves.



So I would say, yes people do reveal their true self but involuntarily.

To have loved and lost

                                       (Coutesy: www.pond5.com )

Love is a season.
Spring for some,
Winter for many...


For me though,
It is perpetual
Unceasing Autumn


Every vibrant moment
Deciduous and crumbling
And crushed within two winks

This Post has been Published as a part of

Celebrations

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 16; the sixteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Come a festival, we splurge
Exuberance in everything we indulge
Love, laughter and loads of sweets
Every person merrily greets
But perhaps we must change
Ready to share with the ones denied
A little love if we spared
Then shall He be real pleased
In other's joy, if we beamed.
Of all the things He created, remember
None is less precious, My dear!
So lets give and show Him we dare to care

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

A leaf from my Travelogue

A Boatman's Hi-fi

I lay still on my back as I watched an eagle hovering some 10 metres above. Its wide wings stretched Glider-like, heavy grey clouds in the background...


The icy cold water touching my feet. "Chin up... keep your arms wider" I hear Mahendra instruct with his typical Nepalese accent.



This was in the training pool, learning how to float with life jackets ON . We were at Tata Tea Estate in Coorg; River rafting for the first time.



We spent a good 20 minutes in the pool learning our positions, about how to row forwards and backwards, what to do if you fall into the water, what NOT to do.. Our ever-smiling tutor patiently going over the safety measures.

As we set out of the training pool to brave the wild river, we all exchanged smiles - somewhere between nervous and excited. Our trainer egged us excitedly . We had to cross 5 rapids. One class two and the others Class 3 rapids. We did a boatman's Hi-Fi - Oars together and yelled "LaLapati Jap Jap". Now, that's a supposed chant word which Mahendra taught us. Whatever it meant, it buoyed our spirits for sure :)


At the call of "All forwards" we rowed in sync till we reached the boulder where the river took a swift turn between boulders - our first rapid. We said hello to "Good Morning Coffee". Yes. The rapids are baptised too :). We held onto the rope tied to our boat as the current carried us through the boulders and our boat plunged into the waters..."Ooooh..." we exulted even as our boat stayed afloat.


It felt amazing..couldn't wait for the second one-The Grasshopper. We knew what it meant. The pathway was riddled with boulders and the waters leapt from one to another. We were instructed to go down on our knees and hold the rope as we hit the rapid. I can still feel the splash of water. We were Wowing even with our teeth clattering as we drifted to the calmer edges.


At the next rapid we did what is known as "surfing". This meant that we go against the waves and "surf" as the boat rocks left to right. This was scary but exhilarating and we were screaming our throats off. Phew! The final "Big Bang", as the rapid is called, left us asking for more.


Truly worth every penny spent for all the fun we had. Would suggest this to anybody who is heading anywhere near Coorg. Its the coolest and the safest place and all thanks to our coach Mahendra for making it an amazing experience.

Labyrinth - Kate Mosse

Labyrinth, by Kate Mosse

I picked up this book when I was enticed by the notion of Holy Grail, thanks to The Da vinci code. Believe me, it sure surpassed my expectation.

Meet Dr. Alice Tanner, who is taking part in an architechtural dig. She accidentally opens a cave which is ancient and like always holds many secrets- a couple of skeletons to begin with which then leads to things far sinister. Now meet Alais, who is entrusted with 3 sacred books which she is to gaurd as Languedoc is under seige. The army proceeds to take hold of the city as it believes to have given refuge to the so called heretics but their motive is to take cutody of those 3 books which hold secret powers.The story of these two ladies proceeds parallely and 800 years apart in time. Their fate tied together in a strange fashion. Alice is in grave danger and she has no clue what her pursuers want. Then she meets the only person who knows both these ladies, whose years of long wait culminates in a dramatic fashion. The author has the arduous task of taking the reader through the troubled era of crusades and link it to present day france with a fine narration and intriguing plot. The book being set in two different eras, the author resorts to the use of the archaic occitan lingo for the older era.Thus ensuring that you do not lose your way in the Labyrinth.

A very fascinating read and the 700 odd pages do justice to your patience.

My Debut in Kitchen

If nothing, it takes a lot of patience to cook the right meal. My frustration was at its peak when 3 of 4 Dosas came out in 6 pieces! Barked a few abuses to myself and braced for the 5th.

Somehow all this reminds me of Harry Potter's Potions class.
Stir twice, wait till its "Golden Brown"...Put in only so much as you can smell. Not more not less!
:) I'd love to be in Snape's class....

So here I was, in kitchen for most part of the day. My routine being cook, wash, clean..cook, wash, clean. But it felt good when in the end you watch people eat what you made. And it only proved one thing - They dint want to let me down. My gran noted that it wasn't salty enough. But my dad and bro still munched it with no complaints.

Well, Its not easy to get it all right. And its not like you are cooking for yourself...Maybe I make a bad cook but I love it!

Weekend

I had written this sometime back but nevertheless I post it now and here:

_________________________________________________________________________________

Weekened!!
Lots of things running in my mind so wondering wat really merits a write up.
The beginning of the week i was musing abt the words that had impact on me. Bits n pieces of poetry that influcenced me, inspired me since childhood. Then the mid week crisis hit upon me and I wanted to do something about my life. The stuck-in-the-rut feeling began to sap all the energy in me. Then came saturday and the TOI crest edition with well written articles that kept me engaged. Then the sunday times with my ever favorite columnists and I was caught in their web of words.

Then, it so happened that i was checking out my friend's CV. Page full of impressive achievement and somewhere a mention of how he finds interacting with people interesting and beneficial. I have never involved myself in anything i can proudly recount and that sinking feeling of being aware of my mediocrity, about my inability to do anything apart from the said - reading. It reminded me how boring i have become. Well not sure if thats what an introvert's life is like. An introvert takes a lot of time to interact with people. I am selective about the people I open up to. Not that I sulk and frown at a gathering but i tend to keep my mouth shut unless spoken to. This is wat triggered a debate within myself.

Am I shutting the beautiful world out? Is my non interaction the root cause of my boredom?
Can I fix it? 

Five times five

And soon I will turn 25.
At this point, there are too many things to ponder about.



25 whole years and still upto nothing. If anything my potential is waning my abilities dwindling and feels like surrendering myself to life. Am moving no step further.

Did I gossip? Did I not??

Some scars in life have no date etched upon them. And none of mine have.Much of my problems in life are cause of my un-eidetic memory.

A person X told person Y that she overheard me and a person Z laughing about him(viz Y).

Y was obviously upset cause both I and Z were his good friends. He did not however confront either me or Z about it. He kept it to himself. He forgot and forgave us both.

I got to know this much later. Having been forgiven by Z for a mistake I am not even aware makes me feel sour even after years. I was believed to have been scoffing at my own friend.

I have always hated people who backbite, people who do not stand upto their friends when they are not around. I believe that a true friend is not someone who appreciates you in front of you, its someone who can speak for you when you are not around. I always thought I did that. I always thought I was loyal to my friends. That was, infact, the only thing I was happy about myself.

And here was I, doing the very same. Did I really do it? Would I have really done it? Thats where my memory fails. I do not recall what the topic was nor what we were joking about. I sometimes feel compelled to ask Z what we were joking about. Let me tell you Z has quite a good memory. But I am not sure if Y wants Z to know about how he felt.

I want to know what we both were joking about. If its true I want to avoid making such jokes again and if not I can sleep with a better conscience. Every minute I feel indebted to Y's kind act and every minute I hate myself for hurting such a nice person. I hate myself cause I gossiped behind someone's back. I gossiped about my own friend


So when I am not even sure if I gossiped or not, I can't clarify to my friend nor dare face myself.

Sometimes Fship is all about staying away... Really??

Alex and Marty. The best of friends.

The friendship of a lion and a zebra, how long would it last? Till the starved lion pounces on the zebra?

Alex bites Marty driven by hunger, oblivious to the fact that its Marty, his best friend. The very next moment he realises it but its late. He has scared Marty.

How could he do that to his friend? What was he thinking he was doing? Why dint he realise? How could he lose his mind? Alex is scared and all confused as to how to set things right with Marty again.

That happened when Alex was hungry. And that also happens when I get angry. I have hurt too many people. Pleading sorry? I have done that so often and have sadly repeated things again.

Alex runs away from Marty and finds a cave. The most poignant scene I have ever come across. It depicts self-castigation in a single frozen frame. Shown simply with Alex cowering behind a boulder surrounded by huge poles with sharp ends and all the sharp ends pointing to Alex.

He isolates himself from his friend cause he knows he hurt Marty. He knows he can be dangerous and in his stupor might unknowingly, unwantingly harm Marty again.

Sometimes its better to miss a friend than trouble them with your presence and hurt them again and again. I shall miss my friends too.

Hang on...this is not the end.

Alex is Marty's best friend isn't he? He knows Alex more than himself. He knows its not Alex's fault. He works it out that Alex must be feeling lone and lost and as confused as himself. He cannot let his friend suffer like that, can he? Its his friend out there who needs him NOW more than ever. So Marty hunts down Alex in that forsaken jungle.

Heard this line before? A true friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the lines.

Now thats what Marty does. And thats what my friend did to me. The most powerful lines are the ones that come straight from heart. Its "Bas kar yaar. Bahut ho gaya. Chalo lets get going" that scores over a well paraphrased oratory of how much you mean to me.

Well, this is for my friend for knowing me better, for trusting me even after all that I have done, for simply believing that I can be better.

Now thats friendship. I wrote this so I dont make the same mistakes again. This serves as testimony to my resolve to be better. I dont want to lose my friends ever.

Well,

My dear friend,

I mean this. I wont let you down.

I shall control my temper and my sharp tongue.