I wish i had spent more time on the beaches of Sri Lanka. Especially in the evenings, when breezes from the ocean soothes the tiredness away. But, it was a work-trip, and i really should not have expected much. For us people, who live far away from the coast, a trip to a beach does leave us wanting for more.

I wish.

p.s. This is hardly a travel diary entry.

When people here ask me if this is my first visit to Delhi, i tell, 'No'. Then i go on to say that i was here about fifteen years ago. I don't know how to say this exactly, but the impressions of that visit does not hold true anymore since Delhi's changed much over the last few years. Almost everybody i've talked to here is of that opinion. That said, it's not that i don't remember anything of that visit. I remember the Bahai House, where i first tasted Mountain Dew. I have faint memories of Chandni Chowk and Karol Bagh where we shopped. Coming to think of it, i do recollect more than i assumed i could, which is quite good, as i had thought they had faded into forgotten memories.

Nice.

Almost a year ago, we planned a vacation to Pondicherry and Chennai. I was searching for hotels where we could rent rooms. We wouldn't face problems in Chennai as Father had friends there. Pondicherry turned out to be quite a task. It wasn't actually, so as to say. Websites doled out information of mostly the likes of the Taj which are outside the back of the beyond with respect to monetary interests.

We finally called a friend there. I had forgotten her until then. She immediately suggested Hotel Jayaram. After hours of browsing through travel-related pages on the internet, i chanced upon Hotel Jayaram's contact number. I called them up and requested them if they could block two rooms for us. The receptionist replied that they didn't take bookings by telephone. I turn told them that we'll be providing them business and won't they make money as a result. After repeatedly stating my stand that if rooms were available on those dates, they had to provide us, and that i couldn't trip to Pondicherry to do he same, the receptionest relented.

Staying at Hotel Jayaram was pleasant. And the food there was delicious. One nice memory from there.

little pictures of India

My Little India
Manoj Das
National Book Trust, India

Das picks up local stories from various nooks of the country. Thrown in are senses of history, adventure, courage, humor which add colour to his visits. Short stories which make for good reading. With tales from Mahabharata to the Subhash Chandra Bose, each story is different from the other. With a good use of vocabulary, this book caters to everyone.

Quite a readable book. The photo on the cover page is alluring. It shows a flight of stairs which leads to a passage through a small archway. The start of the staircase is pitch dark, while light percolates through from the opposite direction.

disconnected thoughts

Thoughts can be stringed together or otherwise. I guess, it mainly depends on we see/think at that moment. I've had thoughts coming from the two poles one after another. Totally varied.

When i was atop Mullayana Giri in Chikamagaluru last week, i was reminded of an earlier visit to Jog Falls, in July this year. And also Talakaveri, to which we travelled about five/six years ago. My hand brushed across wet hair, while the other hand rested on a moist pair of jeans. We were on cloud 9 according to my professor. Having witnessed the Malnad in it's pristine greenery and the typical never-ending drizzle of the monsoons, i felt awed. Rain and green. What compliance!

I was working on oils today. After about four long months. Me, being happy, excited goes without saying. Resulting in a nice canvas. Hope i put it up here sometime. That apart, i grumbled that my other oils, those that i started with, and henceforth, are not good. When i look at this, i grimace. Really. I wish M could see what i did today. She would have loved it, i'm sure. This was the first time that i'd worked on canvas.

Temples and me have always been apart. At home, we've had this very different practice of not going to them. We do visit them once in a blue moon, when a puja is organised by somebody in the family. Nevertheless, a puja is performed once in seven days, i guess for it's sake. Or for mother's satisfaction. She has tried to inculcate those habits into me. The process of trying didn't yield anything. In fact, i think that she has begun delineating. Am i that influencing??!! Wow!! I should pat my back. I've had to explain this tendancy to a couple of friends, who were taken aback, some with expressions displayed on their face.

the city of dreams

We visited Bombay in the year 2002. It was quite a long period since we had gone on a winding tour. Of course, we were happy about it. Bombay and all the charisma attached to it. I wonder what made me fall for it. Of all the other metros that i've visited, Bombay stands out. Really.

We reached Bombay in the afternoon after about a day's journey from Bengaluru. We alighted, went straight to our place of stay. We had lunch and went about the place. We were led to Linking Road(hope i got the name correctly). This is supposed to be the main shopping area in the city. It is long road lined with shops, which sell clothes, footwear, accessories... what not. Company showrooms were present alongside with small walk-in shops. We were in awe. The road and the shop never seemed to end at all.

We decided to have our dinner at Chowpatty. I had heard of how snacks et al sell there. People flock there, to satisfy their taste buds. The elders rested on the sand, while we kids played on the beach until sundown. The sand was warm, with a pleasant breeze blowing in from the sea. This is the bestest attribute of the sea.

We approached one of the innumerable shops which sold chaats, papads, pakodas, sodas. With or without discretion, every stall appears the same. And we settled for one. Food came, and we put those spoonfuls inside, only to swallow it with difficulty. It is so different, the taste, which seems so unpalatable. Everything, right from pani puri, to pav bhajji. We left the stall, on an unhappy note. Saying that chaats at one's own place would understandably taste better. On coming back to our rooms, we had wholesome south-indian fare.

I don't remember the exact sequence of events.

We visited Water World. A launch takes us from the mainland to that place. It's about an hours journey. It was fun there. There was this water slide at a height. Nobody from our group had tried it. Me, being brave, came down by it. It was almost a free-fall, at the end of which, i was very glad to be on solid-ground. Three girls including me, deviated from the others. Father got worried that we were lost. A huge new place. Mother and another lady were on our lookout. Delight lit their faces, visibly. That we were scolded goes without mention. Another uncle lost his cell-phone and we decided to call it quits. Snacking at McDonald's, we again, gathered our strength.

Returning back to our lodge was tedious. Traffic jams haunted us. At the same time, it was pretty. The lights lining the waterfront. Awesome!

Another day was spent in travelling to the Elephanta Caves. These caves are again, located on an island, and can be reached by a launch. Huge sculptures of the Bodhisattva adorn the gloomy caves. There are about ten caves, which all contain the Buddha in various lights. The inside of these caves is real dank. Resting beside the sea, Bombay is humid enough. But, Elephanta Caves can drain one from all forms of moisture. We, later, drank fruit juices, flavoured milk to out hearts content.

We also saw the Mumba Devi temple, from which the city takes it's name. A flight of steps reach down to the sea. The temple is dirty, and one can avoid the steps. The Siddhi Vinayaka temple with it's gold plated ceiling has a golden idol of Lord Ganesha. This temple in particular is to bring luck to anybody, and her/his wish is said to be granted.

Linking Road beckoned there once again, with all it's shops. And we shopped and shopped.

Charming, one could say. Perhaps, that is that which pulled me tot it.

a stream by the mountains

We travelled from Darjeeling to Gangtok, in Tata Sumos. These four-wheelers are used pretty extensively in this region.

The road winds around the mountainside beside the Teesta. Roads are constructed so that each minute spent on that road allows one to intake amazing sights of the steep cliffs and the thin stream of water gurgling below. That's when i fell in love with the Teesta. Then, for a short
period of time. But, much cherished, of course.

The water there, is blue-grey in colour, and very cold to sense. It's perfect. The lush green of the hills, the blue-grey of the water, the brown of loose sand, including the tarred road that peeps in and out. Every time the road deviated form the riverside, i waited for the next moment when i could catch sight of the river.

I liked the sound of the word: Teesta. I was an ignorant fool not to find out the meaning behind it's name. I was told that it joins the Ganga at some place. Perhaps, it originates at the melting of a glacier, quite typical of any river arising in the Himalayas. It's ten long years since i've observed the river. Hope it has remained in it's pristine form. Wishful thinking when the world around us is sinking.

Inshallah!

patches of sun

The road looked wonderful. With scattered shadows of leaves and boughs from the trees which lined the avenue. It looked pretty. Dark patches amidst the steel-gray of tarred roads.

At times, one could spot beams of sunlight piercing through the green foliage. It created areas of sudden brightness, where the ground appeared lit. A dash of life amidst the dark jungle.

During the time when cameras were fought for, somebody spotted a bison. It's strength and sheer mass was visible from afar. Cameras clicked. Excited voices could be heard. With shushing in the background. Something to restore the quietness of the surroundings.

The pair of eyes lingered on that sun-lit stretch. And it remained etched in memory. When tree-lined roads were shown, those irregular forms that fell on those vehicles which regularly passes underneath them looked amazing.

I'm reminded of our safari at Nagarahole, as i write this. We visited the sanctuary about five-six years ago.

bridging the divide, when?

I'd been on a trip to the western ghats, last November. It was fantastic. Two professors, two PhD. scholars, and plenty of students, the seniors and us, the juniors.

I enjoyed every minute of it. An eye-opener, it surely was.

It was a three-day trip. The first day at Kollur and Kodachadri. Day 2 had us visiting Murdeshwara and Gokarna. YaNa and Sirsi was paid a visit on the third day.

Most are temple towns. Temples were just glanced at. Beaches were what we looked forward at. And we did have a blast.

While on the journey to Gokarna, i saw quite a number of soligas. I came face-to-face with them, later. I never imagined that i would get an opportunity to observe them, from close quarters.

When i visited the temple at Gokarna, i saw soliga women stand outside the temple selling posies of wildflowers. These bright flowers caught my fancy.

I visited the temple, early morning on the final day. A young soliga girl approached with bunches of flowers. I bought a small bouquet from her. It was to be offered to the deity, but i retained it. It was to accompany me for some time. I wanted to be reminded of them whenever i set my eyes on those flowers. While stepping inside, i observed that soligas were denied entry into the temple.

I came out after a few minutes. The soligas retracted to a small group whenever they saw those belonging to the 'superior class'. An aged soliga women placed flowers near the staircase that led into the temple. When asked the reason behind her not going inside the temple, she smile. A smiled. A smile which portrayed helplessness and sorrow. It was indeed a disturbing sight.

After all the angst and discussions that has gone in this direction, trying to uplift the weakened sections of the society. The divide is yet to be bridged. Hope it happens in the coming years.

the climb

The climb was strenuous. She opted to halt, but her friends pushed her forward. Words of encouragement flooded her way. Did she feel glad!!

She questioned her friend, 'How further is it?', every ten minutes. She checked her phone a number of times. There was no signal at all. Of course, she thought. They were in the middle of the jungle. Thankfully, her bag had a bottle of water, and her friend had powdered glucose with him. If not for both, she would have dropped out. Moreover, somebody sang for the batch, made by six-seven heads. To lift their spirits up. To urge them so that they move ahead.

After having asked the question repeatedly, they reached the peak. 'Ah!' she celebrated. She instantly, called home. Screaming in to the phone, she voiced her jubilation. She was beaming with happiness. In fact, everybody was. Afterall, it was quite an achievement, 'wasn't it?' she thought aloud. All the goading and famish finally resulted in something very pleasant. She assembled everybody at one place. Wanting to capture the smiles on different faces, she clicked photographs.

There was a faint orange glow around the peak. Seen between strands of dry grass, the setting sun looked beautiful. A low hubble-bubble rang about the place. As per directions pointed out, a friend and she walked to a tap. A mountain rivulet was fashioned into a ever-flowing tap. Fresh, clear water was flowing from it. She splashed some onto her tired face. Refreshing, it was!

Perhaps, that is the magic of fresh water form the hills, she thought. She declined the snack that was offered to her. A bottle of juice was shared between a friend and her. A voice called out her name. The others' were preparing to climb down the hill. The sun had already set.

They had to pass a cliff. A path lay on the edge of cliff. She glanced down the cliff while on her way up. It was steep. On the way down everybody was ordered not to look down the valley. Tasking, it was. The climb up had made her tired. Scratching herself against brambles which blocked her way, she stepped down. The rest of the group also sported scratches. Each one, thus realised.

The crowd kept themselves company by chatting. She was requested not to talk loudly, in case some wild beast was roaming in the nearby forest. The requests turned into orders, when the latter were not found to be useful.

On reaching level ground, they group halted for some time. A song was sung for us, a popular beautiful track. She checked her watch, it showed seven. They resumed their trek. Her feet started killing her. A story was told in order to divert minds. The forest was pitch-dark. A slight sound, would startle anybody. People talked in whispers, not to arouse the forest. Pin-drop silence ruled the surroundings.

They reached the starting point at about nine. Somebody could be heard at a distance. Our friends had arrived ahead of us, to find the place empty. Where was our bus?! Phones were taken out of their hiding places. They walked about the clearing in order to find signal, in phones whose screens were lit up. Dratted! In vain.

As time passed, more faces could be seen as light was shone into the path. A few dropped down, a few sighed; suddenly a babble was heard in the otherwise quiet forest. It was fun. A crowd of youngsters, stranded in a pitch-dark forest in the middle of nowhere. A lime was peeled. Ten hands shot up. The lucky ones got a sliver each, while the unlucky ones grumbled.

Nobody knew where the bus was. A professor had gone to the nearest town to get them food, they were told. Headlights came their way. A shout of joy rang through the clearing. The bus finally turned up, assumed everybody. A jeep came by. The driver stopped. He was shocked to see quite a large bunch, there. He informed that the last bus had gone. They'd missed it, and that they'd to spend the rest of the night in the forest. After a few audible gasps, the situation was explained to that guy. The guy shrugged, and drone off. Into the bright darkness.

The watch clicked away. The same four-wheeler was noticed by them a couple of times. The excitement reached a low.

A dim hum was audible form the distance. A larger automobile was observed this time. A hurrah! went up. The bus finally could be discerned, with bright headlights. Climbing into the bus, she was given a plate of flavoured rice. Tired that she was, she shoved morsels of food into her hungry mouth. Deciding that she was too worn out to eat anything, she passed her plate to a friend.

As the bus snailed it's way through sharp bends and curves inbetween mountains, a strange feeling of gay, satisfaction filled her. Turning towards her neighbour, she found the latter smiling.

It was a memorable day. A memory for an entire lifetime. 'How wonderful!!' mused she. Despite all the odds that they encountered, the battered body, toes which were burning.... and everything else.

a bland TTF

I've been accused of not updating my blog everytime i'm home. I actually wonder, if people do glance through whatever i write(i think not). Considering that most of my time is spent in another city.

I'd been to the Travel and Tourism Fair(TTF) which was held at the Kanteerava Indoor Stadium. I was impressed when they gave a pack of cards along with each ticket. Each card had the photo of a tourist destination. It was really a good effort.

Karnataka playing host, the Karnataka Tourism Development Corporation had put up a pretty good stall. With pillars and short sculptures hewn out of granite, it looked ethnic.

Not many state tourism development boards had stalls of their own, and i was disappointed and annoyed at the same time. Except for Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh, Uttaranchal, Bihar, Sikkim, i didn't see any other states showcasing their land. Most of the players were private, you know. Hotels, resorts, travel agents, the business lot, promoting their goods.

incredibleindia.org also had a stall. They were better than the rest, i should say. The posters were colourful and bright. My room shall adorn atleast one of them.

It could have been organized in a better way. I would like to be informed more about a state and it's tourist attractions, than a particular hotel and it's tarrifs.

Bah! Bah!

Kolkata, in my words

I visited Kolkata about ten years ago. I was keen. According to me, bengalis were different, in their lifestyle, and ways. Moreover i had read Satyajit Ray, Bibhutibhushan Bandhopadhyay etc.

Astonishment hit me when i stepped out of the railway station(not the Howrah station, i'm talking about the one in the city proper). It was DIRTY. I still hold the city to be untidy. Gutters opened almost everywhere. The extent of poverity is so high that people live on the roads. Quite happily at that. Deaths, births, everything happens by the roadside. I still remember this scene very vividly; an old man ws washing his dhoti in the waters of the gutter.

The population is so huge, that nothing is done to improve the living conditions. With influx from across the border worsening the situation.

We hired taxis, and went to our hotels. There was some problem with the rooms that we had booked. So we scanned a few hotels, before we zeroed on one. Were we relieved!

Fortunately we found an uDupi restaurant, which served south indian dishes in their original style. We licked our plates clean, much to the amusement of the owner. Especially, when an uncle of mine served us sambar straight from the bucket which held all the sambar in that place. I guess, we finished all the sambar that was prepared. The boy who waited on us got scared!

On our first day, we visited a kali temple(i'm not sure about it's location). It was so shabby that i refused to step inside it, despite the stern face that my mother exhibited. That was the first time that i saw pundits pestering visitors to hire the former to perform pujas. The temple was actually closed, but these pundits offered to pray fto the door which shut the garbhagriha. I was bowled out!

The Birla Mandir, Belur Mutt were the other places of worhip that we visited. If i'm not wrong, we saw another place, but i cannot recollect at the moment. The latter lies on the shore of the Hooghly. Needless to say, the way to the riverside was filthy. I stood aside while mother and M worshipped.

The Victoria Memorial is a beautiful edifice. Built using white marble, during the colonial rule, it stands out surrounded by a green lawn. It houses artefacts, letters etc that we used by the british. Another site that i enjoyed was the Museum(the one in the middle fo the city, if i'm not mistaken, Kolkata has a musuem dedicated to science on the outskirts).

Of all the things that were on display, i remember the collection of stamps very well. Perhaps, that was one of the few things that we really observed. The rest of it was a hurried one. When we stepped out of the museum, we gobbled guavas, as we were hungry.

All of us were taken to saree shops, and the ladies bought bengali cotton sarees. Mother was bent on it. The saree that was bought there, is in perfect condition even now. She treasures it, i know.

Before we left, father and me went to a sweetmeat shop and bought a few kilograms of sandesh. The entire lot was over within a blink. Talk about bengali sweets, and eating them in Kolkata. It was fabulous.

Not to forget, the rides in the local trams, which proceeds at a snail's pace; the first-ever metro in the country, which whizes past you; and the seemingly-measly buses.

It was later(or is it before, i'm unsure) that i read 'The City Of Joy' by Dominique Lapierre. An eye-opener, indeed. To read the book and to pay a visit to Kolkotha. I was saddenned by the living conditions. Specially with the 'human horses' there. Frail men pulling tongas, which sat bulky women.

Overall, it was an experience to be felt. If one wants to witness the effects of the population boom, Kolkata is the place to be in. I so hope that everything develops for the better.

the magic of Darjeeling

One of the best places that i've visited, is Darjeeling. We went there in 1998, during the winter. I was waiting eagerly to get started. Excitement ruled M and me.

We alighted at Siliguri, and caught a bus to Darjeeling. I guess, that was the first time when i liked to feel the cold wind kiss my cheeks. Everytime, i sense the chill breezes lapping my cheeks, i'm transported back to Darjeeling.

We stopped at a roadside dhaba for tea. H uncle had suggested us to try momos'. We did, and we felt in love with them. So much so that i ate them day after day, for a week. They are steamed rice dumplings, with vegetables(especially cabbage), stuffed inside. Shaped like onions, they are served with hot and sweet-sour chutneys.

The nights were cold. We threw quilts on ourselves and shivered under them untill the desired warmth spread over us. During the daytime, a light woollen pullover was sufficient. Darjeeling is a beautiful town. Unspoilt then, i hope the same holds true as i speak.

Tiger Hill is the place to be, to witness a pristine sunrise. Provided, a clear sky beckons you. We were anxious the previous night. Dark clouds loomed around. However, the green signal was given, after much speculation.

Having woken at 4:30, we left our guest house wrapped in warm clothes. Each one of us had three if not two windcheaters, cardigans... Even with caps pulled over our ears, our teeth chattered and our bones ached. We had hired jeeps which took us there. On the way we were stopped by a young lady who carried a flask of coffee. She climbed in. When we did reach our destination, we found many women selling coffee.

A splendid sunrise awaited us. Soft orange light to spread. The Kanchenjhunga, other seemingly nearby peaks were bathed in a surreal pink glow. Beautiful! Words simply cannot describe the beauty of the moment. While cameras clicked amidst us, asking us to stand here and there, we stared at the eastern sky. A telescope provided a better view. I remember we scrambled to use it.

On walking back to our jeep, the elders' decided to buy coffee from one of those many women who buzzed around the place. They drank the beverage with a grim look on their face. When questioned, they declared the coffee bad, that one cannot get south-indian coffee prepared in the south-indian fashion anywhere else!

On our way back from Tiger Hill, we stopped at Ghoom. Ghoom has a monastery, bang on the main road. The paintings on it depict the Buddha, in dominant reds and oranges.

Another spot that i remember is Rock Garden. It is quite far from the town. And the roads went up and down. The drivers' there are really careful. We drank Darjeeling tea there, and packed some to be taken home.

The native ladies were really pretty. With red lips adorning fair skin. Dressed in their traditional attire, we saw them work in tea gardens. They walked with ease, heavy loads et al. With nimble footsteps.

What made the stay awesome was the accommodating nature of our hostess. Mrs. Chetri provided us delicious, sumptous meals. We bombarded her living room with our shouts, squeals, fights, laughter... fighting for the remote control every now and then. Loud music could be heard on the last day. All were dancing. Pictures were captured to preserve those joyous moments. She must have sighed in relief when we bid good-bye.

I want to visit Darjeeling again. I know i will.

ps: tdna suggested that some photos would add charm to this post. Hence, the addition. One can find a lot more on Kalyan's photoblog on Darjeeling.

Pictures' courtsey: www.trekearth.com, www.travel-westbengal.com

touring the north

Our family has been a part of three tours. I mean, long ones. I so hope, we undergo more of these. Futile thoughts...

Father and two enterprising friends planned things well. We three families have visited the north, north-east, and the western parts of India. Those were the days. At get-togethers, most of the time is spent in reliving those moments. Amazing ones.

When we look back in time, it surprises us. Amongst the various surprises thrown in, i realise that i'm grown up, and pretty old.

We visited the north in 1994(?).

Some memories:

We alighted at Agra. Two days and a night inbetween was spent journeying to the north from Bangalore. That was the first time i saw samosas' and jilebis' econsumed for breakfast. Ewwww! How can anybody eat those for breakfast? Moreover people ate them without cleansing their mouths. It made me gag, if nothing else. A first insight into the ways of north-indians, such as this, for a child is not so pleasant.

If i remember right, the first place that we saw was the Taj Mahal. Excitement ruled me, then. One of the seven wonders of the world.... mausoleaum in marble....this and that. The exteriors was maintained in a very shabby state. Red stains, chracteristic of pan decorated the outer side of the compound wall. I thought, 'Do we really have to see this place?' Thankfully, the area inside was comparably well-kept. I hope it is tidy these days.

We were to catch a connecting train to Delhi(?) fom Haridwar(?). While waiting at the railway station at Haridwar, PLG uncle, somebody else and me were watching a nearby cart. The vendor(not older than 25) was selling some mixture, with lots of boiled potatos. A number of people did buy from him. We were jobless. Uncle suggested we buy a plate of whatever-chat that was. The three of us shared it. I guess, i never took to it. We disposed the leaf in which it was served, along with plenty of chopped potatos.

Our first night at Delhi, and we dined at Dasaprakash. Were we glad to eat proper south-indian food?! Ordering full meals for everybody despite the age, we gobbled the puris', rice, sambhar, rasam... like we've never tasted south-indian fare before. Manna from heaven!

From Mussorie we planned to go to Dehradun. I was so adament to visit Dehra and the Garhwals. I wanted to roam on the streets used by Ruskin Bond. To visualise Dehra from Bond's angle is enchanting. Unfortunately we couldn't make it to Dehra due to some reason. It left me upset and disappointed. To a great extent. I still desire to holiday at Dehra. With a Bond in my hand.

One of father's close friends' had shifted to Lucknow. Thus, we headed towards Lucknow. We hired a vehicle. It looks like an auto, and can fit more than ten people. Try imagining an enlarged version of our auto, with more seats in an extended posterior. Gomti runs in the middle of the city, and it stinks!! The water was a dull grey, plastic material, rubbish flowing along with the water. We were shocked to see the Gomti in such a sad condition. One of the many examples of water-pollution. A very good one, indeed!