Keep Walking

Dreamy lights…
I am sleeping outside the tent…beside a small tree….
Horizon lays in front of me….its undulating landscape….juxtaposition between the dark sky and even darker water…make it all part of the same panorama…
Everything is wrapped under the blanket of darkness…as long as I can see…I can see water…still…sometimes flashes of light…comes out of the shadow of clouds on eastern end of the sky…it must be raining somewhere…smell of rain soaked winds…gentle breeze…soothing….

I could see the lights….its coming from the Linganamakki damm…twinkling under the open sky…splashed with the dazzling brilliance of thousands of neatly cut diamonds….Open emptiness…vast…eerie silence engulfs me…

I lie awake…
This place is magical…

What day it has been…memorable to say the least….
We started early…from Sagara…a small hamlet in Western Ghats near Jog Falls…followed by countless uphill climbs…moving up and down in a vast landscape…
Enchanting…sometimes tiring...sometimes awkward terrain…sometimes narrow escape…sometimes breaking into an impromptu song….

Crossed low lands…marshy…grassland…dense forests…evergreen…dripping green….unknown birds sing…dangerously beautiful spiders lazily roam around their intricately woven web…

Sometimes it is scorching….hot…brightly sunny…no shades anywhere…sometimes clouds come up from no where…covers the deep blue sky…it becomes murkier…wind picks up…but it is now slightly cooler now…
Flashes…
It is pouring now…leaving everything wet…soggy…shoes…socks…bag…I kept walking…
Roads seem to be never ending….serpentine…moving up...down…

Another two hours of walk…
Tiring…it is very tiring…every muscle on body are aching now…profusely sweating…headache…water is scanty….to be shared between eight of us….
Probably I can not walk anymore…my body had given up…hypoglycemia setting in…dry…absolute dry…rain had stopped long back…greenery has vanished into barren land….

I stop walking…sullen face…sun burnt…
Another 3 KM…I tell myself…Sourav da smiles…Himangshu is as cheerful as ever…followed by Shainish…Gaja and Sharad following briskly…Vijay picks up pace slowly…I look for help…Sunil…singing…

“Come on”….another 3 KM…just 3 KM…
Need to catch the last bus to Sagara…
“Come on Hurry Up”…Ganapathy is screaming by now…



"How many roads must a man walk down.
Before you call him a man?..."

I slowly start walking…lets walk...together....

Sunshine On My Shoulders

Kausani, Bageswar
Early morning…
Mist…fog…loneliness all around

I woke up early…I had planned to see the sunrise…when the first gleaming rays of the Sun falls upon the Panchachuli…the melting snow… early morning coldness…the splendid calmness….the faded solitude….it seems surreal…it creates a magic…

Icy cold winds sweep across the terraced slopes…
I was standing on the boundary wall of the Gandhi Ashram in Kausani….After days of traveling… I was taking a much desired break with myself….
Sometimes you need to be with yourself…you need to think about your losses, your gains…blessings and love that you have…put them into the deepest corner of your heart and keep on moving….I was reflecting on my prayers and promises…rhymes and reasons…speaking to them in silence.

I was on the edge of the compound boundary….overlooking the gorgeous twin village of Garur and Someshwar…covered in late night’s fog…blinking street lights…indicating the vast distance….the breeze from the farthest hills just caresses my face…

I feel sleepy…

I move across the huge cedar tree…to have a better view…
The little nights music reminds me of a long forgotten memory….memory of someone…someone I desperately loved…but unable hold onto….she slipped away…like silent night slowly, silently and softly….
“Silent as she comes
Softly as she goes
Ours is a love
That none must know”

The little night is slowly lifting its veil to give way to bright new morning….cold chilly night is slowly moving into a bright slightly warm dawn…

Never seen such a majestic view in my lifetime….in front of me stands the huge infinite range of magnificent Panchachuli…just beneath the wall of the Ashram…I can still see the villages…small huts…smoke coming out of the iron chimney…smoke mixed with wet fog creates a mirage….
The Kausani just waking up….
The old chaiwale of the Ashram in his light blue pullover and gandhian topi drifts apart…few tourists with blanket wrapped all around them….few Mountain lovers with prominent Nikon camera fitted with Zoom lenses…

I eagerly wait for the moment…crowds slowly build up in front of the prayer hall…
4.30AM….
The presence of sun is getting prominent…the jagged edges of mountains are becoming clearer…the villages lying in front of me are also much visible now…

There it comes…
The first rays…piercing through the clouds…touches the peak…..
Magic!!
The white snow turns into bright flaming orange…a hush all around…people are spellbound…clicks of camera…
The night has gone…it’s a new day…
As bright and beautiful as possible…a smell of lavender….a laughter…a lovely smiling face…its spring in Old Garhwal….

The narrow lanes of Bangalore are far away…

Silent night

8th October, 2001
Spring...Dussehra

A small time big delight for me…
Generally a staunch Bengali like me desires to spend Dussehra or Bijoya Doshomi in Kolkata…with family and friends...amongst bhashan and dhunuchi naach…amongst Dhakis...slowly peaking up their amazing beats…with all the memories from your childhood passing you by…you stand quietly in the crowd…observing…enjoying…reminiscing your school days…first night out with your friends…your first crush…your first loss…it comes back to you…

But somehow, I felt restless…something was missing in the air, festivity was there…huge monumental pandals crowd the city streets, millions of people on road, last minutes shopping in Gariahat bazaar, late night meeting in clubs, frenzied discussion about who will eventually win the first prize in Pandal decoration, joys, laughter everywhere….but still that homely feeling, relentless adda with your friends, a place where you can be your own...that was missing...

My parents were in Rishikesh...most of my friends were busy with their IIT, JEE preparations…

I packed my bag…folded my bedding…and decided to walk again…

Now, here I am, standing near the old dusty Mahatma Gandhi statue in Almora main chowk…
Lights just fading away in horizon…they create beautiful shadows on the deodar covered roads…they remain silent…calmness everywhere…

But there seemed to be a silent anticipation everywhere…the old rickety porter…the little school girl…the little kid on the other side of the road who sells breads…the fat grocery man near the bright’s corner…everyone seemed to be excited…though reluctantly…
They ought to be excited...today is Dussehra…

I walked down the narrow path down the gully...trailing bushes guide me to the main road…

Almora has a fabled Dussehra celebration, entire towns lit up in colors, lights in the evening… music played…narrating the tales of Lord Ram-Sita…tales of old folklores…tales of Gods and Demons….these celebrations are echoing part of the old mountain towns…they have very little to celebrate…for them life was and still is a simple story of yesterday, today and tomorrow….

Procession would be coming towards the Gandhi chowk via old bazaar…
Perfect photo OP for me…
I took out my old cannon camera and started moving towards the bazaar.
It is small market place… stoned carved floors…throbbing with people…

I waited…slowly crowds built up…from all parts of the society… old, young, middle aged, men, women kids...all…bright clothes...youthful exuberence all around me...
Slowly the procession was coming towards the middle of the bazaar…it will stop there for 15 minutes…
I gaze intensely…
Glistening…enchanting scenes…huge cart…two young kids dressed as Ram-Laxman…
Behind them an aged Pujari holding a mike…people were showering rose petals…smells of delightful incense stick...flowers…jasmine mixed with cold mountain winds…gives me a high…its evening...

I took a deep breath….
But I needed to take a good camera angle…but from where to take…
I looked up…I was standing on the staircase of small two storied wooden house, nicely carved…small wooden window…open...
A pair of beautiful kohl lined eyes curiously peeping outside…

Suddenly...the eyes focused on me…
Few seconds passed…
I was transfixed…I wanted to see the owner of the eyes…so desparetly...
A beautiful voice, asked me “Aap Ashram main rahte hai na?”…“Are not you staying at ashram?”

I nodded…but how does she know…I wondered
I was getting restless…I wanted to see her…She was standing in darkness…aloof...silently observing the crowd passing by...

She again said “I live in the house opposite to it…”. She was silent…procession now ten meters away from the narrow lane in front of me…
She said again “If you want to take a nice snap…come towards the balcony”

I walked towards the staircase…spring in my limb...moved up and there was I...standing on a small balcony…on a side of small bazaar...overlooking the procession...

But I am standing opposite to an angel…her kohl lined eyes had a smudged look...mixed with a lost romanticism and loneliness…innocent...she was lost in something...

She was again speaking to me…but…but I could not hear her…procession now exactly opposite to the window…her voice got drowned in the chatter…thousands of people moving along with the procession…like the pied piper of Hamlin…they are following the gigantic statues of Ravana the demon God…Its their night to celebrate…the sound, lights, non-stops songs, laughter, joys…

The silent night slows spreads over the sleepy old Almora...
Let them celebrate…Let them take their joys with them...I will take my memories with me...