Fredericton, Canada

No, I have not been there yet. My dream of international travel was Bagger 288-ed by German consulate when they rejected my dependent-tourist visa to Germany?!. But still two of my poems made it to Canada without a passport or any of this visa shit.

Two of my poems were accepted and published in a Canadian literary magazine – Nashwaak Review. You would find my name in the magazine’s web page – http://w3.stu.ca/stu/about/publications/nashwaak/vol_26.aspx

I am promised a copy of the magazine. I’m waiting to see my name in print.

This is my second international publication after one of my Haiku got published in Croatia. – happy that atleast my writings find their way to all cool countries one by one..

this post just an attempt at a publicity stint…

Devenahalli Fort

On the first look the village of Devenahalli was some people, few monkeys, and a nearby airport. Some year back Devenahalli was just a tiny pimple on Bangalore’s rural map. Now it is an international airport – one of the many things that the IT delivered to the city. And one of the many things that you would probably not know about Devenahalli is that it has got a Fort, a demolished one; at least traces of the once formidable fort where the great Tipu Sultan was born.

From what I learnt in the history books:
Unlike many other maharajas and nizams, Tipu Sultan was a modest ruler. He never built any extravagant palaces, nor did he torment his subjects in building a structure that he saw in his dream just to express his love (With all due respect to Shah Jahan, Taj Mahal and its architectural marvel , he expressed his love enough by having 14 children with his wife. I think Taj Mahal was just Shah Jahan’s guilt in marble. No offence. After all, Taj Mahal is the face of Indian tourism). Tipu Sultan is definitely one of the important figures in Indian history. Not just because he built some awesome forts, but for the fact that he was one of the few rulers then to have enough balls to stand up against the English. And now the place of his birth is an un-regarded fort outside Bangalore (but definitely not abandoned- with the growing population, the fort does it part by rendering habitation to the locals of the village). For those of you with interest towards architecture there is a placard kept in the fort’s entrance describing the technical advancement and purpose with which the fort was built. For others there are several message of love and despair scribbled on the stones.

Sooner or later they are gonna build big apartments, hotels, and malls all around and on what is left of the fort. It will just exist as an un-regarded sentence in your child’s history book.  Like Oscar Wilde said: we know the price of everything and value of nothing.

Some of the pics ….

Hampi

Tags

ancient India, archaeologists, architecture, chillums, Hampi, Indian Kingdom, interesting story, the oldest human settlements on earth, Time

Preface: I wrote this article for a famous travel magazine. It could not find a place there, so it goes here.

Boulders and a seven centuries old dam, green fields and a river, mythical beings and folk lore, temples and palaces; Hampi is 26 acres of archeological ruins frozen in time. For those who have been to Hampi it is a time machine to the past- to some place in an Indian Kingdom 700 years ago. For the rest of you, in my humble opinion, it should go into your top whatever list of places to see before you die.

Little History:

Like many other places in India the name Hampi is an anglicized version of the local name, Hampe which was the capital city of the prosperous Vijayanagara Empire (translates to Victorious Empire in many Indian languages). According to one legend the Vijayanagara Empire was so rich at one point in time that they sold and bought diamonds on the streets- like we buy cheap shoes and socks on the roadsides. And according to various historians, archeologists, and local guides Vijayanagara is one of the first empires in the world to mint gold coins for everyday commerce.  When you visit Hampi be sure to hire a local guide, for they could tell the history of the ruined city, almost accurately. At the least their stories are definitely fascinating and blends in with the setting. You could find English speaking guides for reasonable rates at the Government tourism office in the main temple street.

Other side of the river

Hampi ruins are divided in to two by the mighty Tungabhadra (formed by rivers Tunga and Bhadra; and so the name). On the banks of the river is the still worshiped, 1300 years old Virupaksha temple. You could find flowers and vermilion to chillums and psychedelic t-shirts on the temple street. The temple’s architecture is so marvelous, that such a structure today wouldn’t be possible even with hi-tech precision instruments and today’s world-class architects. I would not write about the history of who built the temple for whom, and make an otherwise interesting story boring. Two main attractions of the temple: inverted shadow of the temple tower for its indigenous architecture and Lakshmi, the temple elephant; you wouldn’t miss the later-  easy to spot, but don’t miss out on the inverted shadow- it’s a bit tricky for it could easily escape normal eyes. Fifteen rupees ticket to the other bank of the river would take you to a different reality – a small self-contained tourist village.  I stayed in the much recommended Shanthi Guest House on other side of the river. The guest house was neat with green fields and boulder hills surrounded. One of the western tourists there told me “your land is so much giving”, looking at the green all around. I totally agree; no matter how much ever we do to the land here, she always gives.

Places

The best way to get around Hampi is by bike. You could hire two wheelers for cheap on either side of the river. The first thing that you should probably do when you visit Hampi is to get a map of the ruins, else you it is very likely that you might miss some hidden treasures.  Sister rocks, Narashima statue, Krishna Temple Market ruins and the pond by it, burnt down palaces and mint area, royal bath, giant elephant stable, and a lot of history – the beauty and magic of these places are better experienced than to be read about.

I have a guitar. On an average it goes out of tune once in every week, and to tune it to perfection sometimes I need electronic gadgets. Nothing unique about it. It is a simple musical instrument made out of strings and wood.  Now imagine a stone, like ten feet tall and 4 feet wide, and if I tell you about 600 years back someone in India sculpted a beautiful sculpture out of the stone, you wouldn’t be surprised. But if I tell you someone made the sculpture that can produce musical notes several hundred years back, you might think I am making things up to make an interesting story. I am not making this up. It is still technically possible to make musical notes from the delicately carved pillars of the famous Vitala temple in Hampi. Sadly like many monuments in India, these pillars have suffered damages from curious tourists; so these days tapping on these pillars is not allowed to save whatever is left.

Anegundi is another place of importance near Hampi that is straight out of Indian mythology. This place according to local legend is considered to be Kishkindha, the monkey Kingdom from the great Hindu epic Ramayana. For those of you who are not familiar with Hindu mythology and Ramayana, Kishkindha is the eastern equivalent of the planet of the Apes except that they are far more righteous and brave beings according to the epic and are being worshiped as Gods in India.   This is one of those few places that exists both in mythology and in science, making you wonder what is what; according to archaeologists this is one of the oldest human settlements on earth.

Food

In Hampi village you can find all kind of restaurants from small homes serving Indian thali to German bakeries. Mango tree on the river bank is a famous place to eat made popular by lonely planet guide books; it is an authentic south Indian food experience.

A word of caution

I found some of the locals a little hostile to the outsiders, even if you have dark skin. Incidents like stolen petrol, punctured tyres, and torn shirts are common. One of the few things that many guide books get right about Hampi is safety.

The Last Word 

History is often times fascinating, and experiencing it is even more so; Hampi is just not history it is an experience, a time travel, and a beautiful dream. As I was standing in the middle of the ruins and hearing about its history, I saw a great Indian Kingdom rise to its full might and finally falling into nothing more than sand and stone. Apart from the experience and the time travel part, I was wondering what it tries to tell us; I think it tells us subtly that nothing can stand against the God called Time. We can build great nations, greatest economies, architecture marvels, wise religions and all that, but they can’t stand any longer than the Time itself. But the difference lies in how the Time is going to tell our stories to our children. Dear readers, I ask you to travel in time (if you believe in it, that is) to the future or simply imagine future, some thousand years from now, how do you see it? Like the way I see Hampi?

North Sikkim

Tags

China Border, Gurudongmar lake, Himalayas, Kanchenjunga, paradise, Sikkim, snow, Travel

I don’t know if I believe in God. Let us just assume He does exist. I don’t know what He does, what power He has; but I can tell one thing – He must be a very busy person with a very demanding job. And if he chose to go for a vacation, just like we humans do, he would go to Sikkim,…North. Formerly it was called Nye-mae-el, means Paradise in local language (believe you me; this is no kidding, and this is not like naming a City Garden City and slowly destroying all its garden with a plan). Now it got better (read: better than the best paradise you can ever imagine) and being called as Sikkim.  Sikkim is so beautiful; that even the best writers, photographers, creators of art & music, or any form of expression would not be able to fully describe its beauty.  Sikkim is one of India’s seven sister states of the North-East. It is divided into four:  north, south, east, and west; it can be reached from north Bengal, and gets better as you descend towards north. Gurudongmar Lake is one of the northern most parts of Sikkim (5km from China border) and definitely the highest point in Sikkim (over SEVENTEEN THOUSAND feet),and reaching there is like reaching an orgasm (spiritual, and otherwise) – a perfect climax to your journey in Sikkim.

When I arrived at Gangtok, it was already dark. Neatly laid roads, well-lit streets, traffic signals; Gangtok had all it takes to be an administrative capital. In the morning, it was nothing like it. My hotel room was on the terrace. It was freezing cold; I walked out of my room and saw things like: mist-wreathed mountains, a little sunrise, monks teaching little monks (they attain monkhood as early as eight), and the Khang-chen-dzonga. Yes, the mighty Kanchenjunga. Khang-chen-dzonga literally means ‘five treasures of the eternal snow’ namely: gold (the peak that is golden by the rising sun), silver (the snowy peak in shadow that is grey), gems, grains, and the holy books (the other peaks).  The peak becomes beautifully golden as the sun rays slowly gilds and unveils the grey mountain. In simple words, the view was like getting a good hit on a pleasant intoxicant (your favorite, whatever may it be, I leave that to you).

The next day we (I, my wife, and two locals from Mangan – which was epicenter of the recent earthquake in Sikkim) started to Lachen. We started with the Sun. 8hrs journey up the Himalayan hills; it was Einstein’s relativity put to practice. It ended so fast. The roads were pothole-free exactly till Gangtok ended, after which it was a rock-roll ride till Lachen. On the way I saw so many things, I met so less people, drank out of Himalayan streams, peed on Rhododendron roots, counted the number of bridges and butterflies, lost the count of both, prayed, chanted ,rotated prayer wheels; it was like acting in a divine movie. Teesta, what a name for a river! I don’t know the meaning of it, but just the sound of it would quench anybody’s thirst. I have never seen a more beautiful river. Sikkim has rich bio-diversity. I saw too many dead butterflies; apparently, Sikkim alone has got 500 different species of butterflies. I am big believer of chaos theory and the butterfly effect. Just imagine the butterfly effect all these butterflies would produce. It gets dark too early in mountains. When we reached the village of Lachen, it was dark and there was no power. All we could here was the sound of flowing stream somewhere near. We stayed at a two-storied house. I am very grateful to the hosts for the stay and the food.  We would start to Gurudongmarg at 3 the next day morning. All I remember of Lachen now are: the sound of the running stream, taste of the chicken curry, and beginning of my journey to Gurudongmarg.

The road to Gurudongmar is a spiritual transformation in itself; the thick Himalayan vegetation slowly disappearing, and the terrain slowly becoming more and more barren. What you see in the pictures are just atomic versions of what I saw – imagine the picture full blown all around you. I am finding it too difficult to describe its beauty in short. Someday I am going to write a book on this place. Till then, why Gurudongmar lake is a must visit?

• One of the highest lakes in the world that you can visit – over 17,000 ft
• A portion of the lake never freezes at a temperature that would easily freeze down your urine
• The lake has fascinating legends: The Lake is named after Guru Padmasmbhava, who according to a legend meditated here before he spread Buddhism to Bhutan and Tibet. Guru Nanak, the founder of Sikhism meditated here.
• Untouched beauty: Relatively unknown among tourists (due to permits and inaccessibility). True meaning of the word pristine.

After Lachen, we stayed in apple valleys of Lachung, from where we visited Yumthang (no, these are not made up names; neither are they names from Chinese menu), and zero point (China border). The beauty of these places is better experienced than to be read about.

North Sikkim in one-line: God’s holiday home

Gurudongmar Lake

Gangtok

Kanchenjunga from my room

Our Companions

Teesta

Road to Gurudongmar

Gurudongmar – the lake never freezes

Yumthang valley

Near China Border

The Versatile Blogger Award

Tags

random things, royal enfield bullet, rum and coke, versatile blogger award, zen buddhism

First things first – thank you DeeShrek for the award! It is a great gesture – I respect.

I have been awfully busy lately with writer’s block; that I needed a week’s time for this post.

Here are the rules for the Versatile Blogger Award:                                                                           

1. Nominate 15 fellow bloggers
2. Inform the bloggers of their nomination
3. Share 7 random things about yourself
4. Thank the blogger who nominated you
5. Add the Versatile BloggerAward Pic on your blog post.

My fifteen:

I am new to the blogging world – to write as well as to read blogs. In this little time I have come accross a lot of interesting blogs, ideas, and people. And I am sure I will find more.  Here are some of the blogs that I often vist (among wordpress blogs). Chiefly, they are someway related to travel. Each of them is honest and expressive in true sense of the word. My fifteen in no particular order…

• http://thepoetseye.wordpress.com/
• http://mytravelmap.wordpress.com
• http://thoughtsandrainstorms.wordpress.com
• http://www.the100dayblog.wordpress.com/
• http://petebuckley.wordpress.com/
• http://maekitso.wordpress.com/
• http://zendictive.wordpress.com/
• http://lesleycarter.wordpress.com/
• http://lifeinlaos.wordpress.com/
• http://tracilee.wordpress.com/
• http://teachtravelplay.com/
• http://beingmark.com/
• http://roryinnewzealand.wordpress.com/
• http://victortravelblog.com/
• http://sharkables.com/

Seven random things about me:

This is utterly dangerous, still here it goes…

1. I like whisky and blues, rum and coke.
2. I am from a small town called Pollachi in Tamil Nadu.
3. I sometimes write poems at ToiletPaperPoetry
4. I dig Zen Buddhism and Haiku.
5. I used to own a Royal Enfield Bullet, hope to have it again someday.
6. Needless to say, I love travelling. Haven’t gone out of India though. Got my Schengen rejected once.
7. I dream to be a writer one day.

Versatile Blogger:

Thanks Again DeeShrek.

Top-Slip

Tags

Anaimali Hills, memories, Top-slip, Travel, Travel Writing, Western Ghats

Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital, Darjeeling, Ooty, Kodaikanal, and Top-slip: all of them have some things in common; all of them are hill stations in India, all of them were holiday homes for English during pre-independence times, and so the English names – this is known bit. All of them are much-written-about, famous-among-tourists destinations that you can find in just about any guide books on India; except one. Top-slip is not a made up name. It is less than half hour drive from the place of my birth, Pollachi in south India (not that there are any Pollachis in any other part of India or any other part of world that I know, but to identify the place and to-put-it-on-a-map: Top-Slip is a hill station in the Western Ghats, about 25 Kms from Pollachi in Coimbatore District, Tamil Nadu, India).

Well, now, why a fancy English name like Top-Slip for a place near Sethumadai village? According to the local history: under the British rule they used to cut the trees and transport them down the hill by slipping the logs downstream by the river that flows in the hills, so the name. Top-slip always has a special place in my heart. I grew up with stories about this place. Among the things that the English left behind, many are still in use, and of them very few are actually useful and still functioning. One of those useful leftovers is the road to Top-Slip. Top-Slip is very well connected with Pollachi by road. My grandfather apparently used these roads to smuggle rice from Kerala during the great rice famine in Tamil Nadu during the 60’s. I drove to this place recently on my trip to Pollachi, and wondered how beautiful it is and why I haven’t written about it yet…ok, to tell you the truth… and wondered why I haven’t realized that such a beautiful place exists so close to my town, and yet I hardly visit the place. The last time I went there was during college when my friends came over. (College seems so long ago…in a good way, like the Hippies from 60s would speak of Woodstock). It goes like this: say if you have Taj Mahal near your house at a walk-able distance, would you visit it everyday? You wouldn’t, probably you would not know about its existence until someone says, “Oh, you live in Agra? You must be visting Taj Mahal every weekend?”   Then you go something like, “Taj What? Oh, yes, sometimes” or if you try to be honest, you would say something like, “yeah, when relatives come”.

Coming back, I drove to top-slip during my recent Pollachi visit. It was a beautiful October morning, early monsoon or rainy summer; however you care to take it. Strictly speaking, like in many parts of India, there are no seasons in Pollachi; there are just terrains, and top-slip belongs to misty-mornings-and-rainy-sunshine-washed-green-hilly terrain. On the hill roads, I stopped to pee. Only sound I could hear was of the gigantic woods creaking, as if the trees were not able to hold the heavy silence. I vaguely remembered me as a school kid trekking the great Anaimali mountains of top-slip during my school days. The famous ornithologist, Salim Ali’s student was our trek guide.  I could see the famous Ambuli house at a distance (Ambuli is Moon in Tamil and Malyalam). The moon that I saw from the house years back had not set yet. I remembered picking up plastic bags dropped by local tourists, trying to clean the entire forest in one day by sunset. I remembered our guide telling the stories of forest fires, tribes, and why elephants become mad…As I write this and think about top-slip, I see the cursor on my screen blinking. I think it’s been blinking for quite sometime, trying to drag me back to reality. And the sad reality is that I have to go to work tomorrow.

I am not much of a photography artist or a gadget freak, but I am too tempted to put on the pictures of the place- as they tell in Tamil,” Yaam pettra inbam…” I will do it once I figure out how to embed the snaps in wordpress.

Top-Slip in one line:

To me: “faded memories of a forgetful mind”

To people who are happy with clichéd-boring-normal words:  “Heaven on earth”

In general: “Virgin hills of Western Ghats”

 

Kolkata

Tags

Amar shonar Bangla, Calcutta, Indian Archeological Museum, Kolkata, Mamiyar Veedu, Mark Twain, posto, Pujo, Shoshur Badi, Tagore, Travel Writing

“The average man is profoundly ignorant of countries that lie remote from his own.  When they are mentioned in his presence one or two facts and maybe a couple of names rise like torches in his mind, lighting up an inch or two of it and leaving the rest all dark.”  – this is according to Mark Twain. I agree to certain extent. Talk of India, Mark Twain’s average man would think of Kamasutra and tigers; I don’t know why tigers of all animals; some of my friends in the US of A made their western friends believe that tigers are domesticated  in Indian villages, and obviously making them believe wasn’t difficult. Mark Twain’s observation holds true not just for countries that lie remote but for cities as well.  For example mention of Bangalore to the average man he might think of the IT industry and jackass auto drivers may be, and that is all.  Calcutta paints different picture to different people. To me, well, I will not tell it all; 1. because I married a girl from there, and 2. I want to be married to this girl life long – at least that’s the hope. According to Twain in his book “Following the Equator”, the mention of Calcutta infallibly brings up the Black Hole, which many of us (including proud people of Kolkata) do not know of. To many of us now, this time, in India (I include Indians working abroad as well), Kolkata means: a lot of people (I mean the crowd), Victoria Memorial, Eden Gardens, Dada (of Cricket), Mother Teresa, Tagore, Bose, rasogolla (pronounced Roshogolla, don’t ask me why), hot and humid weather, brothels and many more.
After three visits to the city and with considerable time spent on the streets of Kolkata, to me the city is very special and unique. The city that has a place for you, no matter what you do and who you are. Unlike Bangalore, in Kolkata you are never away from reality. A place like Bangalore can often be disillusioning; you hardly interact with the locals, few local markets, more malls and departmental stores, a.c. buildings, no sweat, almost everything is a call away. And we here in Bangalore try to chase the ‘American Dream’ which is actually an illusion even in America. In Kolkata you would not get anything without sweating for it (literally and figuratively), you stay up close with the reality. Kolkata is the one of the few places where 50 paisa is still very much in use- five rupee and fifty paisa for a 2 km rickshaw drop, chai is one rupee and fifty paisa. In Bangalore fifty paisa suddenly comes to use only because the price of Wills Milds Cigarette is now 5.50 and not 5, otherwise fifty paisa is gone out of use long ago.
Food:
Ah!!! Talking of food, any place that has Bengal influence of cooking is God’s own kitchen. I have never tasted anything like Kolkata’s street food. Just the sounds of the food names are appetizing – kobirajee, egg devil, mach bhaja, macher jhol ,posto; just tell the names of the food that you get in Kolkata, I will eat anything that you offer… anything.  The best time to taste Kolkata street food is during Pujo, which is like religious equivalent of Woodstock in terms of crowd, and a must-see.

There is an eighty year old restaurant/cake shop by the name ‘Flurys’ which is famous for it’s cakes and pastries – one of the best in India.
Music and literature:
Imagine a family. A father, mother, a college going kid, grandmother, grandfather, and some uncles and aunts if you want to add more complications. Given the time that we live in, what can be the common topic for a general discussion, you know, just a topic to kill some time- yes, I just didn’t think it was impossible; I thought it was ridiculous… until I visited Kolkata. Music and books are important part of Kolkata’s culture. Everybody seems to know music and everyone in the family discusses literature. The Bengali literature is rich, new and upcoming authors are widely read and encouraged. Rabindra Sangeet, which is Tagore’s poetry and music combined, is a common place thing. Whenever people meet they start singing, out of nowhere like the flashmobs. And at times being an outsider I feel very odd to sit in between and put a smile as if I understand everything.
Places:
Kolkata has got many places for any type of tourists. Maidan, Victoria, Fort William, Indian Archeological Museum, Howrah Bridge, Hoogly, Outram ghat are known some. ‘One should spend a month in the museum, an enchanted palace of Indian antiquities’ writes Twain in his travel journal on Calcutta- this was in 1890s. Now you can imagine the number of things to see in the Museum. Believe me, the English has not taken everything, well, at least the cheaper ones are left behind and you can find them in the Museum. Jokes apart, the museum is very very interesting, even for a history-illiterate like me.
Now some of the not so known places: college street- you can find anything that’s ever been printed in the world so far here. If you are lucky you can find some famous manuscripts as well.  Rabindranath Tagore’s family house, called as Takur Badi locally. And Hog Market (also called as New Market), Sealdah railway station – about two lakh people at any given time, and Ochterlony(Shahid Minar) to name some.
Public transport is the cheapest and in my opinion the best in India. Kolkata tramways is the oldest in Asia, and a history in motion.  You will also find a lot of old pre-independence buildings.
Events:
One word- PUJO.
People:
People are in general slow and government places even more so – one of the worst in India; some tell the situations are changing, but I don’t know much to comment. But working class people (work meaning real work like pulling rickshaw, building roads, and stuff) are very hard working and sincere – incidents like rickshaw wala refusing to take a rupee extra as a kindness gesture are common. Kolkata girls are sweet. People in general are very kind and helpful.
This city is a fine example of life itself.
Kolkata in One-Line:
In the words of the great bearded one- “Amar shonar Bangla”.
To me- Mamiyar Veedu (kind of proud) – for those who do not understand tamil, translation : Shoshur Badi or Sasural.

Why city life is not so cool?

Tags

children, city life, Himalayas, nature, plastic, Sikkim, thoughts, Travel, Writing

Preface: I wrote this about an year ago for a local magazine called Kshitij. Since it is some way related to travcl, I put it here…

I am an urban dweller. I live in one of the fastest developed Indian cities- Bangalore. Honestly I am a bit uncomfortable about the fact, but I have to live with it. Coming back, I am an urbanite. I eat packaged cereals for breakfast, I use sophisticated automobile to commute to my workplace, I work to make rich people richer, and in turn I become richer every year. I earn a lot of money, spend more than I earn and consume more than I need. All these seem to keep me happy, rather show me happy except for the times when I sit alone with a drink or when I write.

Recently, I had been to two places which people at Kshitij call “moved” me to the core. One is Lachen, a small village in North Sikkim and another is Attakatti; though it sounds more like a made-up name, there exists a place by that name in the hills of western Ghats near Pollachi where I was born. My stay at these two places were long enough for me to study some differences it had with the so-called city life (some were subtle, but often the differences were very imposing). Obviously both these places were way toooo less polluted than Bangalore; the only time you would see some smoke is when people cook or during forest fire – both in my opinion are completely natural, organic (sick of this word) and most of the times un-avoidable.

Children in these villages go to/come back from school walking hand-in-hand, without their parents, singing/playing/catching butterflies/peeing/laughing, more importantly travelling all the way to school and not carried like livestock to school. They seem to know that their parents have lot more important things to do than to take them to school, also the parents seem to believe that being overprotective of their children is to actually hinder them from growing up and learning. Both parents and children are not concerned about the marks or attendance – which I think is an awesome way to bring up a kid. Ah, and toys: Once a wise man that I know told me, toy is way the child sees the world – a deep thought. Children in these villages make their own toys: balls out of fruits, vehicles out of plastic bottles thrown away by tourists. Yes, talking of plastics: Plastics are not evil in these villages. People there re-use plastics in every which way possible. As George Carlin once said (I am paraphrasing it) ‘Plastic came out of the earth. The earth probably sees plastic as just another one of its children.’ Except for the fact that it is man-made, plastic is more like God – burn it, bury it or eat it, plastics can’t be destroyed. People in these villages seem to understand this fact.May be that is why houses there do not have dustbins, because they don’t waste anything. I was not very surprised to find no medical shops in both these places. Air is pure, food is pure, and money is less so naturally people are healthy in general. In Lachen, I was the only fool to panic when I knew that all the networks (mobile) were completely jammed by the Indian (actually Indo-Tibet – they don’t seem to recognize Tibet as China or they have not changed the sign boards for a longtime) military for security reasons. Yeah, yeah – deserted in the foothills of Himalayas with waterfall and lush green and birds chirping all around and no way to communicate to the outside world might seem too romantic to some of you, but for me it was like losing one of my legs while Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy was behind my back. Coming back, this is a place where mobile phones have not yet replaced one of the people’s body part (arms).

When I was coming back I happened to bump into one of those educated-do-gooders of some NGO, like the ones you see in western movies these days. One of them claimed “We are trying to teach them how to lead a better life”. I could not take that shit. I am saying we should start learning life from them. My idea is to get these village dwellers to city and learn from them because I am afraid we would spoil their basket if we go to their place to learn (any tourist infested place from Ooty to Kathmandu is an example).

My friend’s-friend’s kid who has just turned 10 is already obese. He is a normal child. He has a lot of friends – inside computer; you know in facebook, computer game, Disney characters and stuff. But he does not know the name of the next door kid. He spends 3 hours in just travelling to school, 8 hours learning his lessons and the rest in front of computer or tv. I pity him. I can imagine how his future would be like – no different from what our present is, if not worse. As an afterthought, I have a recommendation/conclusion/moral of the story or whatever you may call–like the ones they have for essay writing in schools; we need to start de-learning a lot of stuff and go back to the roots to make our lives a little more cool and awesome.

Shravanabelagola

Tags

42, Bangalore, Chandra Gupta, God, Jain temple, meaning of life, monolith, philosophy, Shravanabelagola, Travel, Writing

For those of you who know about Shravanabelagola, it is the place of the world’s largest monolith stone statue – of the Jain saint Gomateshwara (no, He is not naked Buddha as many of us think). For those who do not know about it yet here is what Wikipedia has to say:” Shravanabelagola (Kannada: ಶ್ರವಣಬೆಳಗೊಳ Śravaṇabeḷagoḷa) is a city located in the Hassan district in the Indian state of Karnataka and is 158 km from Bangalore”- most part of the statement is true; it is not a city as mentioned, but a small beautiful village that’s about 50km from Hassan.

I drove down to Shravanabelagola about a month ago from Bangalore. I hate Bangalore for many reasons; to start with I work here (I’ve never liked any place that I lived in, you know, like Groucho’s joke). But if there is a reason for me to love Bangalore it’s the geographical proximity to many fascinating and relatively unknown historical places; for example: until recently I didn’t know Tipu Sultan’s birth place is around 30km from my house.  Shravanabelagola is one such place – it has no relation to Bangalore or to Tipu Sultan, except that it is a weekend drive from Bangalore.  I’ll try to start off like any other literature about this place does; Shravanebelagola = Shramana+Bela(White)+kola(Pond), meaning ‘White pond of Shramanas’ . Here is what I understand about who Shramanas are – in Jainism shramanas are those men who renounce everything they have to find the meaning of Life, Universe and Everything, in short they are Jain saints. Why ‘white pond’ – there is a pond in the middle of the village.   So I gather whoever wanted to renounce everything they have got to know the deeper meaning of life, they chose this place (that has a pond in the middle of the village) and so the name.  For those who dig a bit of history here is an interesting fact about  Shravanabelagola: Chandragupta Maurya, the first emperor of unified India and the grandfather of Ashoka the Great  meditated here after renouncing his kingdom, and starved to death (it is called Sallekhana  in Jainism).

The Bangalore-Hassan drive is beautiful; the roads are great (very few times that I don’t crib about paying tax to the Indian govt.).  Hassan-Shravanabelgola route is equally good. When you get closer to the town of Shravanabelagola, you could easily spot the towering naked statue of Gomateshwara. But keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel (yeah yeah, I know…), for the statue’s awe could kill you. I almost got myself killed trying to marvel at the statue when driving. The statue is about 60 feet tall, craftfully carved out of a single boulder. The statue is so awe-inspiring, that I climbed more that 500 steep steps to see the statue up close (for those who know me well enough- please believe me, I climbed all the way up. And for the rest, let us just leave it there…).

I am not gonna write about the history of who build the monument for whom, and make an interesting story boring; one could anyways get most of it from Mr. Wikipedia.  But we could definitely reflect upon the significance of such a size and awe of the monument. When I stood below the statue, I was obviously thinking how small I was with respect to the statue, you know, it was like the Total Perspective Vortex thing from Hitchhiker’s guide to the Galaxy – somebody build a 60 ft statue of a man (sorry, of God looking like a man) just to tell a man standing next to it, “you are nothing”.  Looking at the peaceful face of the statue changed my perspective a bit, may be, it just reminds man that wherever he is, he can see God …all he has to do is open his eyes and see.

Shravanabelagola in one line: God… naked to you.

Upcoming post: Belur/Halebid , Hampi, Sikkim, Gokarna – one of these… when: depends on how much lazy I get..

Goa

Tags

Candolim beach, Casa Portuguesa, Chapora Fort, fado, fenny, Fort Aguada, forts, Goa, humor, Sex on the beach, Sinquerim beach, time machine, Travel Writing, travelogue, Vasco da Gama

Beer, beaches, coconut trees, umbrellas, a lot of thighs, and a few ass cheeks that’s Goa for you; superficially, of course. In depth it is much more: Green (a shade of green that is very unique to this place- similar to the one you see in the movie Lord of The Rings) and fresh, lonely and soothing, Fenny and Fado- all that is beautiful and pristine.  ‘Westerners have an eye for beauty in India’ I read somewhere, I totally agree; Portuguese came to Goa as merchants, fell in the love with its beauty, unlike us they didn’t write on famous monuments or pose for photos, but they conquered it and ruled for over 450 years(till 1961). You could still find Portuguese culture deeply imbibed in many parts of Goa. Panjim, Margoa, Mafosa, Baga, Calangutte, Anjuna, Aguada, Vasco da Gama: the names of the places here are too foreign to me. I am from kottampatti-mothirapuram neighborhood. No disrespect to where I come from, it is equally beautiful (little difference in culture though, here you‘ll find beautiful women in their underpants sunbathing, in my place you would find men in their underpants ploughing). Naturally there is history behind these facts.

I stayed in otherwise tourists infested north Goa, somewhere on the road that leads to the famous Baga beach;  given the time it wasn’t as crowded as I feared it to be. Just like any other tourist place in India you would find a lot of lonely planet recommended restaurants, ayurvedic massage centers, flea markets selling Om t-shirts(now you can buy anything with Om on it), chillum, cheap bags and other paraphernalia. Goa is the only place in India where you can buy liquor and petrol in pretty much any shop, well actually, any place.  Especially in north Goa; believe you me, I bought fuel for my bike and then alcohol for me from a house turned general store run by the family living in the back of the store – I appreciate this kind of commerce very much, you know what else would a man need, well atleast what else would a man on a vacation in Goa need. Local people are generally friendly and helpful with directions and stuff. In spite of a lot of money in Goa (apparently Goa is the richest state in India in terms of GDP) most of the local population is poor and mainly dependent on tourism and agriculture.

All the restaurants that I had been to served tasty food that mixed very well with Fenny, traditional local liquor. Cashew fenny is a must try, normally had dry before food, but tastes different each time you have it (in a good way).  Among the restaurants that I had been, Casa Portuguesa in Baga stands apart for its Old Portuguese ambience, food, and for its 300 year old heritage house turned restaurant. When you visit this place, ask for a man called Francisco who plays cool guitar and sings Fado, else you would miss a major part of the Portuguese experience.

If you are old enough to ride a bike but can’t ride one, and you are planning to visit Goa, the first thing you should do after reading this post is to learn riding a bike. The best thing in Goa for tourists is you can hire a bike. Roads guarded by coconut trees on both sides, fresh green paddy fields all around, sound of waves breaking somewhere in the background and no helmet; it is like that avenger ad – you will ‘feel like God’. History is fascinating always, well atleast, most of the times it is; being part of it is even more so, and if you want to have that feeling, go to Goa. Obviously you will be not become a part of Goa’s history (like you wouldn’t become Vaco’s mate chilling out with rum or your name wouldn’t appear in any of the history books if you just visit Goa), but with history all around you, you will certainly get the feeling of being in the past, may be sometime in 17^th century. Fort Aguada in north Goa is one such place. Build in 17^th century to serve as a fort and watering point to Portuguese ships, the fort takes you to a different time.  Better known for Dil Chahta Hai’s Amir-Saif-Akshay trio shot, this place started attracting tourists after the movie made it famous. Aguada means ‘watering point’ in Portuguese, obviously our people these days seem to take a different meaning out of it- evident from the heavy stench of urine from one of the corners of the fort. Sometimes thinking of the purposes that old monuments like this serve us (other than the tourist income): to some of us it is a time machine transporting us to a different time and to some others it is a perfect place to scribble their names (as one of my friends said the guy who built it didn’t leave a mark, but you find all weirdo names scribbled all over these monuments), whatever may it be, it is fascinating.  When you visit Fort Aguada don’t forget to read the placard kept in front of the fort describing the history, to me that was the key to the time machine, and I like the choice of words in it “the fort skirts the seashore”.  This certainly is not the best fort in Goa. The lesser known Chapora Fort is the best according to me. I am not gonna write about this fort 1. Because I go into this coma-like state thinking of how beautiful it is and 2. No matter how hard I try I can never fully tell you how beautiful it is.

There are many places of interest in north Goa. Sinquerim beach is one of the most beautiful beaches in Goa where there is a Taj which enjoys most of it. Luxury comes with a cost they say, but no worries the best things in this world comes free or atleast cheap, Candolim beach is equally beautiful and lonely(at least during monsoon). When you visit Goa make sure you have enough time in hand to explore. Time is never enough for a place like this, and monsoon is the best time to visit Goa.

Goa in one line : Sex on the beach (a bit of a cliche, but fits perfect…)