CLIMBING A NEW HIGH

I had never climbed a mountain till I climbed this one. I always thought about scaling one when I’d watch rolling ranges from inside a train, car or a bus. The peaks were inviting…but I knew the lessons lay in the journey. As I discovered when I touched the base and the peak of Triund in Mcleodganj.

You know what’s in store right in the beginning. I don’t want to give it away but I have not known steeper roads before this. Giddy up! Local kids run past you as if the road is a flat field…heightening the feeling of your own immobility and breathlessness.

But sights get prettier as you move along…trees, trees and more trees! Dense forests give way to mountain paths and soon enough we were blessed with the company of two friendly mountain dogs.

The climb is almost 5 hours long. But I want to talk about the most important aspect of this terrain – that it makes you think and leaves you blank with physical exhaustation. Here, your brain is engaged in getting past stones of all sizes, maintaining a steady pace, soaking in all the natural beauty and getting lost in your own private thoughts - all at once. It’s rigourous meditation at best.

The view from the top is always nice…but getting there is another story. It kills you. It kills you even on your way down. The body asks for a break but you cannot give it. You have to keep your mind strong and just move..move..move! Screw the scenery…move…get out of here…into civilization….a hot tub…a glass of wine!

Beauty comes at a price…but the pain is worth it all. Never will you appreciate the feeling of feeling so dead. It makes you feel alive.

[Photo Credit: Nithya Hariharan]

Kiss by Gustav Klimt

THE COLORS OF LOVE

What is the color of love?

Red, blue, green or black…

Seasons change, Does love?

Here are some of my favourite verses on love.

Listen for the stream that tells you one thing.

Die on this bank.

Begin in me the way of rivers with the sea.

Rumi

He himself aroused longing to become mad in love.

He himself became Laila to steal Majnun's heart.

Himself He wept, himself consoled himself.

0, what a game of love He plays!

What a carefree game He plays!

Himself the lover, He himself is the Beloved.

Here logic and reason have no part to play.

Bullah rejoices in his union with the Beloved.

Why does He create separation now?

What a carefree game He plays!

Bulleh Shah

You've no idea how hard I've looked for a gift to bring You.
Nothing seemed right. What's the point of bringing gold to the gold mine, or water to the Ocean.

Everything I came up with was like taking spices to the Orient.

It's no good giving my heart and my soul because you already have these.

So- I've brought you a mirror. Look at yourself and remember me.

Rumi

Longing is the core of mystery.

Longing itself brings the cure.

The only rule is, Suffer the pain.

Your desire must be disciplined,

and what you want to happen in time, sacrificed.

Rumi

NO WAY BACK FROM HERE

“Lately, I've been Livin' in my head

The rest of me is dead…
Pleased to meet you take my hand,

There is no way back from here.”

Nothing better than those lyrics by Foo Fighters can describe Mcleodganj to me right now. I long to go back…because there really is no way back from there.

Never have I appreciated people-watching more than in this Tibetan refuge of India. But in turning this old British town into a refuge for themselves away from their homeland, the Tibetans have also made it one for every traveler. There are so many different faces here speaking different languages but wearing same expressions. The world is once microcosm here.

I wish I had clicked so many more photographs and so many portraits. If only every Tibetan from babies to the youngsters and the old, every Kashmiri pedlar, every hippie, every rich old foreign couple, every lonely traveler, every Indian honeymooned couple, every Buddhist monk, every himachali woman woodcutter, every mountain guide, every mountaineer, every trekker, every Tibetan rights activist, every wandering musician, every sadhu and conman were captured on film.

No, I still wouldn’t be satisfied. I’d go back again for more.

[Photo Credit: Harmanpreet Kaur]

IN TRANSIT

Random thoughts on the New Year 2008 – I’ve survived another 12 months… and enjoyed it, cried through some of it, and more or less have vagabonded and grown. Here’s to another one filled with wishes, experiences and flights of thought.

But this year worldwide will be one of change. And so it will be I hope in my life. A year of letting loose, learning and having fun!

A year of transit…a rite of passage…to a better present and future.

25 THINGS TO DO ON TURNING 25

1. Travel
2. Learn a musical instrument
3. Study
4. Cook
5. Drive
6. Write
7. Own film DVD’s
8. Drink more alcohol
9. Fall in love
10. Drink more water
11. Grow my hair
12. Learn how to Jive/Salsa/Belly
13. Do something illegal
14. Protest
15. Join a satanic cult or start my own
16. Go underground for a while
17. Click more photographs
18. Dance
19. Read Colin Thubron
20. Hang out, chill, relax
21. A day of Spa
22. Attend a film festival
23. Keep up the sarcasm
24. Let go

25. Dream on

WE DON’T NEED NO EDUCATION
How I define Pune

I always think of how pretty the city of Pune is, whenever I’m on my way out from there. It’s always been from behind an auto rickshaw seat, with luggage perched over my legs speeding towards an airport or a railway station, that I’ve reflected over my experiences and appreciated what’s moving past in front me and what’s being left behind.

There’s an old world charm about Pune. A place you’d probably go home to your grandparents and have wonderful childhood memories of playing under a tree. Of course the landscape has changed now, but the feeling is still there. The fact that it is a student city – makes it more of a Gurukul-like place. A place where you go as a student and then leave it as an adult.

And after spending a month at FTII this year, I wonder what it would be like if this institution that’s taught and inspired so many weren’t situated in Pune. The first talkie that came out of Prabhat studios, where FTII stands today was ‘Sant Tukaram’. Ironically the dhobi in FTII is called Tukaram and is probably as old as the studios themselves. And I feel that the spirit of that great Bhakti saint carries on year after year in this grand old campus… where great filmmakers and artists have applied their mind, body and soul (and lost it all) to the ultimate art of cinema.

Maybe it’s my fascination with anything that has a history. Maybe it’s my admiration for the free and the liberated. Its what defines the city of Pune for me – from the creative nuts at FTII to its IT types, from its foreign student population of the middle-east nations to the hippies of the Osho ashram.

It’s a state of mind.

They all come here to learn and be free.

MY YEAR IN DELHI

I finished reading William Dalrymple’s City of Djinns one year ago, cuddled up in a Y.W.C.A hostel room on a late rainy evening in Mumbai. I was in Maximum City – but the charms of the city that Dalrymple described before me took me to places in my imagination. It was mind travel through a city I knew nothing about and had a great deal of misconceptions.

I sit here today typing in front of an office terminal, in Delhi a year after, thinking how would I describe this past year? Have those misconceptions been cleared or have new ones taken their place?

Or maybe some of you who have always lived here may disagree with my romantic views. When I look at this city I think of images, frames, fleeting visuals that come and go. These are my memory postcards - which I’m unable to put in words.

That makes me a bad writer and William D a genius. For nothing puts my feelings into better words than the following excerpt from his book. A year ago it filled me with curiosity while today it’s the metaphor of my life.

“All the different ages of man were represented in the people of the city. Different millennia co-existed side by side. Minds set in different ages walked the same pavements, drank the same water, returned to the same dust.

But it was not until months later, when I met Pir Sadr-ud-Din, that I learned the secret that kept returning to new life. Delhi, said Pir Sadr-ud-Din, was a city of djinns. Though it had been burned by invaders time and time again, millennium after millennium, still the city was rebuilt; each time it rose like a phoenix from the fire.

Just as Hindus believe that a body will be reincarnated over and over again until it becomes perfect, so it seemed Delhi was destined to appear in a new incarnation century after century. The reason for this, said Sadr-ud-Din, was that the djinns loved Delhi so much they could never bear to see it empty or deserted.

To this day every house, every street corner was haunted by them. You could not see them, said Sadr-ud-Din, but if you concentrated you would be able to feel them: to hear their whisperings, or even if you were lucky, to sense their warm breath on your face.”

Feels good to be here.

[Photo Credit: Harmanpreet Kaur]

GOA - AUGUST 2007

Calangute beach, 5:30pm: Nothing’s changed here. As you walk down towards the beach, random strangers call you from behind empty bar tables. And you just say Hi to the friendly locals and smile. It’s so chilled out over here. No pretensions, because like you - everyone is in a holiday mood. So, service is slow wherever you go, but who cares. Goa is there to lounge and let lounge, to drink and let drink, to be and let be…

It’s much better here in the rainy season, though tides can get high…. But it’s a different high altogether to zip around in the rain and catch Goa’s lush green landscape, mountains and its coastline - at their best in the monsoon weather.

Coming back to Goa, two years after I came here last, was not just a drunken state of happiness, but it truly felt like the Bob Marley song, “I know a place, where we can carry on.”

[Photo Credit: Urvashi Sibal]

COLOURFUL JAIPUR

Two days in the city of Jaipur were a burst of colours. From the sandstone pink of the city walls to the bandhani's and mojaris in the bazaars and the colourful costumes of the local folk. Jaipur was a treat for the senses. Vibrant colours, beautiful architecture, a rich cuisine, and a variety of sights and sounds that leave a lasting impression of a city seeped in history and culture.

There's not really much to do except for some basics - check out old forts, eat well and most of all shop! But apart from these basics, Jaipur packs a punch because it combines the old with the new and the rural way of life with the modern.

Like Delhi, Jaipur has history dating back centuries which makes a drive through the city, a drive through history. Driving along the Delhi-Jaipur highway, you pass rolling hills that are a part of the Aravalli range, and arid vegetation that form a part of the desert landscape. Sharp, bare and desolate. There is something eeringly beautiful about it. And if you are driving to Jaipur in the night, then be prepared to fall into a spell. For the rising and falling silhouttes of the rolling ranges won't stop haunting your mind throughout the journey.

You must enter Jaipur's city walls after the sun goes down. Ancient walls crawl across the edges of the rugged landscape, like the Great Wall of China and you meander round them till you see the Amer fort bathed in yellow lights. Unnoticable in the night, the pink coloured walls and buildings of Jaipur by daylight, seem quite unbelievable. I mean, you've always read about how pink Jaipur is, but when you see it with your eyes, you wonder how the colour pink can be a part of the city's culture. Sandstone pink can be found everywhere in the old areas of the city, including the newly constructed flyovers - merging the old with the new so well.

The bazaars by the Hawa Mahal are full of everything that you can think of as ethnic and typically rajasthani. Delightfully coloured mojaris, bandhanis, razais, silver jewellery, hand crafted umberellas and pottery - it's a shopper's paradise.

And you cannot leave without checking out Chokhi Dhani. You'll be reminded of it all along your drive to Jaipur through the numerous hoardings on the highway, and you'll keep wondering how its pronounced. And at peak tourist season, it is PACKED! Spend a few hours in this typical rajasthani village set up for your pleasure - to live like your ancestors did, stretching it out on the charpai, sipping tea in kulhars and playing marbles. But you get to see the rajasthani fare that you came there for from folk dances, puppet shows and camel rides to yes, the food.

Its one big mela, one huge party! Just like the city itself - where the fun never ends.

[Photo Credit: Harmanpreet Kaur]

AGRA BOUND

The Taj by moonlight, the mysterious Agra fort and the ruins of the never inhabited Fatehpur Sikri - these were some of the sights that made up my trip to the city of Agra. On a two day visit to the once Mughal capital, I came back with memories of beautiful Mughal architecture and imaginative glimpses into the rich pleasurable life of the Mughal dynasty.

Enter the city of Agra - and you are greeted by Akbar's tomb. It is a towering piece of architecture in red sandstone and as you drive past it, it is as if Akbar himself welcomes you into the city that was the capital of his vast empire. Further into the city, the Red Fort or the Agra fort looms large in front of you. Brick red walls that have been standing there for centuries, when there were no roads or electric poles, and when visitors or attackers galloped towards it. And a few yards away, you can just catch the white tomb of the Taj Mahal, teasing you and beckoning you towards it.

Walk into the Agra fort, and you enter a different world. Gigantic gates and high walled slopes later, is the sprawling mahal of Jehangir. A local guide will tell you that the well nearby is where he took his bath as a child. And you keep moving from one part to another, each unique serving a new purpose. Be it Shah Jahan's daughter Jahanra's palace, the Sheesh Mahal or the royal dressing room and the Diwaan-i-aam where the king sat with his courtiers and met his public. Sit there admidst the wide open spaces of the fort, watch birds flutter and fly across the dusky evening sky over minarets and tombs of dead kings and queens, and imagine a period of richness and culture.

You can only go to the Taj Mahal by a tonga, rickshaw or a battery powered vehicle to prevent pollution around it. You can take your pick of the lot. The battery powered vehicle is expensive and faster but the tonga is so much more romantic. When I got onto it, the tongawalla called his horse names ranging from dhanno to veeru! If you get onto a rickshaw, chances are that the puller will eventually veer you into a U.P handloom house because he's being paid for it. But insist on going to the Taj first for obvious reasons.

After passing through two gates, you get a peek of the Taj from the silhouetted arch of the gateway. And the wonder that befalls your eyes once face to face, is a creation that happens only once. By daylight or by moonlight, the effect of the Taj's beauty cannot be put into words. It can only be felt and admired. It's so perfect! Look at it from any angle, and it's so well balanced. The purity of it's white colour, the intricate calligraphy on it and the rising minarets cannot take your eyes off it for a moment. Walk around it, lounge around it, laze over it's marble floor and ponder over the Yamuna. This tomb of Mumtaz Mahal and Shah Jahan is flanked by two red sandstone tombs on its either side. These belong to the other two wives of Shah Jehan. You tend to feel bad for them, but they too balance and compliment the Taj.

And you can see every type of human being here. Old and young, families and honeymooners, Europeans to South-east Asians, and Indians from every corner of the country. And while stepping out, every visitor turns around, for that last glimpse of a tomb, a marvel in architecture, a piece of art, a thing of beauty, with sheer poetry in every curve. For me the Taj Mahal was not just a monument, it was an experience.

[Photo Credit: Harmanpreet Kaur]

IAN WRIGHT….

…ON ENGLAND

“England is wonderful. From London you can just jump on the train and you can be out in the country in an hour, walk, have a lunch in a beautiful country pub and then come back. Suffolk is particularly beautiful. There are rivers everywhere, it is stunning, so many little villages… I have a friend who lives in the smallest village you can imagine, when I visit him everything just goes fffffff, and you're just so relaxed. As soon as you turn into a one-lane road, you feel the pressure and the weight coming off your shoulders, you just chill out! There is something about being with nature, being in the country, there is no stress. That's the nicer thing about travelling; you leave some of it behind and just concentrate on what is going on. The sea is always a beautiful thing to see. Even just going over bridges in London and looking at the Thames gives you this little magic instant.”

…ON TRAVEL PHILOSOPHY

“If you spend too much time thinking about it, then you miss it! Things come. Keep looking, meet different people, and exchange ideas. There is no rule."

"The first step is in your head. So don't think about it, buy a flight ticket tomorrow and then worry about it on the plane. This is the hardest step."

…ON WORST EXPERIENCES

"In Nepal, the kit didn't turn up and we lost two days. Then we went to the Monkey Temple and after two hours the director got bitten to the blood by a monkey, and was at risk of death from rabies. It was a disaster!"

"In Vanuatu, we visited the most accessible volcano in the world. It erupted every ten minutes, spitting out moulting lava all over the crater. It was unbelievable - until the wind changed. A piece of lava landed two meters away from my head. And we ran like scared rabbits crying like babies. But now I wish I had a lava burn mark on my arm to boast about in the pub. "

"Every single country you go to just blows your mind! You know with this job you always get five months condensed in three weeks! The final program gives you a splash of colors, a smell of the country, and that's where its success is I think."

…. FINALLY

"There is no secret; there is nothing mysterious about a rucksack. All you need is money, passport, and a change of clothes. Forget the rest."

THROUGH THE LENS

When travel and photography come together, it’s a heady combination. Now, I haven’t done much of the two together. But it’s something I wish I could do for the rest of my life.

Goa was my first real experience. With my Nikon FM10 in tow, I had the challenge before me to capture my friends, the place and laze away merrily. So, wherever I went, I observed everything with the eye to fit it into a good frame. My heartfelt apologies to my friends, who may have felt my neglect for them at the cost of a good photograph.

But the results just blow away any guilt. To see your passion take shape, evolve into colours, to view the expected and the unexpected, just gives me so much satisfaction and pride.

So, travel shows are not easy. You are not on a holiday. You are working for your audience’s leisure. I can only imagine that all one can think about is getting all the shots and the frames. That sounds disappointing for those who dream about such a job (including me).

But when I go back to my Goa experience I remember the madness that welled up within me, when I thought of a frame. I ceased to think about anything else, until my shutter clicked. So, what you need is passion. It is the only thing that takes you through life.

[Photo Credit: Harmanpreet Kaur]

THE PERFECT TRAVELOGUE

I bought the book, City of Djinns by William Dalrymple from the pavement behind Bombay University for Rs 130 only. The vendor promised me sixty rupees if I returned it back. The book never gave me a chance of that. For if I could, I would put every chapter of that book in gold.

Every word in it is so beautifully etched, that it made you travel in your mind. History never sounded so appealing, till when it came from Dalrymple’s words like a true story. He explores all aspects of Delhi, giving his opinions but maintaining that brilliant journalistic quality of being unbiased.

I treasure it as one of my favourite books, and respect him as the ideal travel writer. So much so, that when I wanted to buy his next book, I chose the fattest volume.

DRIVING THROUGH HERITAGE

I travel on the Delhi-Mathura highway everyday to work and back. Busy at all times of the day and packed with trucks of all sizes, I cross the border of an ancient town called Badarpur. Bursting with vehicles, you can manage to catch sight of an ancient structure tucked away admidst electrical wires. It’s the Badarpur Gate, and unfortunately it’s a beautiful ruin.

And then there are these slender archways, again in ruins. It was after a hectic day at work, that to avoid a traffic jam, my driver quickly swerved into an alley and drove me through narrow lanes outlined with ancient darwazas. Empty lanes in front of me, and with moonlight at it’s best, it was indeed a royal feeling.

I’m trying to find out about these ruins, but am unable to on the web. So, the mystery surrounding them shall continue and keep my imagination occupied.

BEFORE SUNRISE

I need to watch this movie again! I remember watching it on Star Movies so very long ago, and it left an imprint on my brain.

Before Sunrise… two strangers traveling through Europe, decide to go to Vienna and then fall in love. Walking and talking all night through an unknown city. And living for the moment, not knowing if they’d ever meet again.

QUEST FOR THE ULTIMATE TRAVEL SHOW

Ok, now I have grown up on the Lonely Planet. Ever since I saw Ian Wright in forgone places like Mongolia and Morocco, not only did i fall in love with him, but with the entire idea of travel as well. The show combined history, culture, socio-economics, food, humour, brilliantly composed music, good production and above all lost locales. Nothing more heady than that combination. (actually it can all fit into for a guy as well!)

Hardly anything that matches LP's stature has come out from India. See, nothing comes to your mind. Let me think, Channel V's road trips were good fun with Purab. Else everyting is concentrated over travel tips, where to go, how to go. Staid and boring. No personality, no character.

The ultimate travel show must feel like a journey.

So, Travel & Living is still my best bet.

"The world is like a book. And one who does not travel, reads only a page."

STEPPING OUT ON A JOURNEY?

While I was interning in The Statesman, Kolkata (oh how I feel snobbish while saying that!), there was a fellow intern from - no, not from another mass communication institute, but from London. He was all but 17 yrs of age (and quite tall), and he had just finished travelling all over India. His name was Robert Palmer. Come to think of it, I was on my way towards work, getting off at Esplanade and walking that short but sweaty length of pavement, avoiding streams of humanity, jostling beggars and hiding from the cruel sun at the same time, towards Statesman House. And I saw him, a tall lanky foreigner in a heavy backpack walking in front of me. Our destination was the same, and how I wish I knew how to step out on a journey just like him.

I am fascinated by all those travelling historians that we studied in history during school or college. That fellow called Ibn Bhatuta or Hieun Tsang. They didnt have to worry about flight tickets! They could hitch a ride or simply walk. I know it must have been killing to weather changing climate, storms, bandits and what not. But they ended up being royal guests of all the kingdoms they went to, even securing government posts and amassing huge wealth. Bah!

And then there is the British Empire. On the pretext of being the Company's servants, how many of those pukka sahibs got to travel and live in different countries and return home all bronzed.

When will i get my chance? Well I tell myself - "Traveller there are no roads. Roads are made by walking."

[Photo Credit: Prasad Deshpande]

If you've read the poem Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson, you'd know what wanderlust means. Ever since I understood that piece, in 9th or 10th class, the vagabond in me surged and has been growing ever since.

This blog is all about me, and well, a bit more about everything else.