White sand, bright sun and turquoise water at The Andamans

Choosing the Andamans

My wife felt that our recent trips had an overdose of the Himalayan mountains. Again next year we have one more Himalayan trip up on our sleeves. So, for the trip in October, I had to plan something farthest from the Himalayas. Something in India and farthest from the Himalayas?...Hmm. How about the Andamans? Thats when I started my research on Andaman and Nicobar Islands - a conglomerate of islands placed way down

in the Bay of Bengal, not even in the Indian peninsula. The pictures of the islands and the beaches looked stunning. Initially, I was skeptical that they were photo-shopped by the travel agencies. While I was planning the first thing I realised is that you have to book the air tickets really early. I made a tentative itenary and found 5 nights in the different islands should be good to start with. That would also not require too much leave from our office. Clubbed with the Dussehera holiday, 3 days leave should be fine.

The Advanced Booking

This was perhaps the most organised and planned trip I made. For our trip in October, I booked air tickets in January. That's a good nine months before the trip. I did all possible research to make the most of the 6 days in Andaman. I contacted several travel agents...read the blogs and forums. Everything was meticulously planned. Its difficult to go there without a travel agent. But I am not very fond of them. They take you to the been-there-done-that places along with a whole bunch of other tourist. You lose the privacy and the quite moments with nature, which is the purpose of our vacation. I also like to plan my own itenary. After all, that gives me a lot of flexibility. After the hotel bookings and contacting one person in Port Blair who will sort out the ferry bookings as per my dates, I was very excited and looking forward to the vacation.

The last-moment hiccup

The day before leaving, as a customary checklist, I checked the weather of the place. I was in for a shock. It showed thunderstorms in the coming days. I rang the hotel manager, who said the weather is very rough in Port Blair and adjoining islands. He was skeptical how the flights would land in such a bad weather. Now that is disappointing. After detailed planning for eight months, you surely don't want to hear that your trip is at risk. I called the airlines, to be assured that the flight is departing as per schedule.

Day 1: 9th October, Wednesday

"Passengers, please fasten your seat belts"

We went to Chennai taking an overnight train. Then, we took the 2-hour SpiceJet flight to Port Blair. Within minutes of take off, we realised that we have a bumpy flight ahead. Just before landing at the Vir Savarkar Airport of Port Blair, I could see the turbulent sea below and scattered tiny islands. The sea and the place is also called "Kala Pani",

meaning black water. The reason is, during the overcast monsoon days, the sea becomes pitch dark. I could see that from my flight. I must say, it is terrifying. As if, you can hear the roar of the ferocious sea below. I considered myself to be fortunate to see this side of the place. At the same time I was very apprehensive of how our trip would shape up amidst the uncertain weather.

A driver came to receive us at the airport. He took us to our boarding at Andaman Teal House. We were very hungry...so straight away headed to a restaurant. It was still very much cloudy and very much windy. And yet from the dining area of the Fortuna Bay Resort, the green water was clearly visible. We wondered how it would look like on a sunny day. In the evening we headed to the Corbyn's Cove, the only beach in Port Blair. It was quite crowded. On inquiry, we came to know the reason, which was not at all pleasing to our ears. There are 2 more islands that we would hop to - Neil Island and Havelock Island. Both are via small ships (they call ferry here). The ferries did not operate for the last 2 days because of the cyclonic weather (Phalin) prevelant. Which means, people got stuck in the respective islands. The only beach in Port Blair is Corbyn's Cove and people have no other beach to go to!
As we went to bed we prayed for a sunny morning the next day.

Day 2: 10th October, Thursday

The delayed start 

Our ferry was scheduled to leave at 6:30 AM for Neil Island. At 5:30 AM we came to know that the ferry has been cancelled. Our hearts sank. So many days of planning and here we are at nature's mercy. Really, whatever we do and how advanced we think we are, we are more often than not dependent on mother Nature. As days rolled, the sky became clear. More importantly, the wind had stopped. "Ferry services are suspended when there is a strong wind around the area. Even if it rains, the ferry service continues,", the localities said. The ferry administrators are overcautious. The good news can around 10:30 AM. Our ferry would start at 12 noon. That was a great relief. As the ferry blew its horn and started the journey towards Neil Island, we were all so happy...
The ferry is primarily used by the local people who hop into the other islands for work and/or personal reasons. There were some Indian as well as foreign tourists. You could make out that all had a sense of relief that things have started moving. The ferry is of one and a half hours duration. I had read somewhere that the

best way to spend the journey is to go to the deck. So, even before the ship left the shores, I was up on the deck. As the ship sailed through the ocean, the sunrays glittered on the ripples of waves created by the ship. The wind was so refreshing. The air was so pure, so pollution-free! There were string of small islands on either sides, all covered with green trees. Your mind wanders here, there and everywhere. You can even find other ferries. You just gaze at the vast stretch of water and wonder how holed up we are in each one's world. And there is such a vast world beyond ours. There are so much to see,  so much to experience!

The first sight of emerald green waters at Neil Island.

It must have been a long time that I sat on the deck on ship and let my mind play around. A steward came and said that our destination, Neil Island, was 10 minutes away. I went to my seat, where my wife and daughter got a bit impatient. I will never forget the first sight of the shores of Neil Island. Vast stretches of absolute emerald green water beaded with stretches of white sand, something I was seeing for the first time

in my life. We all are dumb-founded for a few minutes. It was as if we were looking at some paintings. Driver Bijoy had come to receive us. We had booking in Tango Resort. We dropped our luggage and went for lunch at Sea Shells. We went to the beach near the jetty, called Bharatpur Beach, hoping to take ride on the glass-bottomed boat to explore the world under water. But due to low tide, we were told chances of seeing corals are bleak...its better we come the next day morning. So, we went to Sitapur beach. The roads were narrow and had abundance of greenery on either sides. There was no shortage of coconut trees, You could make out that the area receives plenty of rain. "It rains for six months here", said our driver Bijoy. This green was very different from the green that you even see in the Botanical Gardens. The location of the beach is very secluded. Its a small beach, engulfed by rocky hills on three sides and the sea lies in front. Because of the dark clouds and the fact that we were approaching evening (here sun sets around 5 PM during October) we perhaps did not see the Sitapur beach at her best. On a sunny day, the story would be completely different. It it can very well be your own private beach since few people know about this place.
When we returned to our hotel, only the last few minutes of the day's light remained. We walked to the beach in front of the hotel, Laxmanpur beach.
It was such a calm and peaceful place as the day came to an end. In the morning we were a worried lot. Now, here I am, sitting in a tiny island of the Bay of Bengal.The only thing that lies ahead of me is vast stretch of water. I felt a sense of pride for being an Indian. The more I explore my motherland, the more I discover myself. My perception of India has changed considerably in the last 2 years, since we starting exploring India. The country is much more than the corrupt politicians, congested roads and poverty. It has the majestic Himalayas in the north, the Indian ocean in the south and everything and everyone that lies between them are all so diverse. The majority of people of the country are nice people. The taxi drivers and hotel owners, the hotel and restaurant staffs...you can connect with them so easily. Not all are very well-versed about India's geographical boundaries. And yet, the sense of belonging to India is almost universal among these people. India is, perhaps, more about a concept and an ideology that is deep-rooted among the Indians. Merely drawing some international borders will not arouse the sense of pride and togetherness from within. Newspapers flash news that are sensational. The TV news channels air stories which sell. So, we get news of corruption, of murder, of rape and of scams and scandals. But India is much more than these. Sadly, most Indians also take pride in critisizing his or her motherland under the belief that it places him/her above the "general public" and puts him(her) under the bracket of a superior race. One has to travel through the length and breadth of the country to know what India is. No books, no documentaries can ever capture the core essence of India. At most, they can capture certain parts of her. To be able to know her, one should feel her from within.

Day 3: 11th October, Friday

The painting on the huge canvas!

The sun would rise a few minutes past 5 o'clock. So, I had set the alarm at 4:30. I woke up, got fresh and walked upto the Laxmanpur beach that was only a few yards from the room, just in front of the resort. The white sand bordered the entire shoreline. The darkness was giving way to the first rays of the sun. There were innumerous mollusc strewn all over. Never have I seen such a galaxy of living mollusc in my life. They came in different shapes and sizes, colours and orientation. I carefully walked on the stretch, lest I step on

any of them. I could not see any other human beings around. I was wondering what would I do if I suddenly find a crocodile or a snake on my way. The thought was not utopian as we saw a snake in our dining area the previous night. I was proven correct a few hours later. That walk on the white sands, with the crystal clear vast stretch of water ahead and the soft morning sun was one of the most peaceful walks I have ever had. I kept clicking photos of everything that was around. I saw schools of tiny coloured fishes swimming in the water. I returned to my room at around 6:15 AM. My daughter and wife had just woke up.
We had our breakfast and went to the famous "Rock Formation". It was a great sight to see an enormous

rock that has formed into an arc. We crossed that rock formation and went a few hundred metres ahead. The entire area were covered with irregular rocks. So you have to be careful in each of your steps. A slip on those slippery rocks can be quite painful. My daughter was excited to see little fishes and prawns playing in the water locked by those rocks. It was quite an adventure. When we were returning, we saw a snake holed up on the mountain walls. It had beautiful black and white stripes on its body. I am sure I would have a different tale to tell had it been lying in one of the rocks. Or may be, there were some and we did not see them. And they did not bother us either.
There are so many small things that tell a lot more. When we were returning from "Rock Formation", we saw many others going towards it. Yes, we were the early birds. When I looked at their shoes, I was amused. One lady wore slippers. A man wore a formal leather shoe. A newly-married bride was wearing high heels. And then there were some with the Reebok-Nike sports shoes. I didn't get a chance to see how they managed to reach all the way to the Rock Formation through the muddy and  rocky area!

Before our ferry to Havelock Island, which starts at 2 PM, we went to the last beach, rather returned to the last beach - the Bharatpur Beach. The day was sunny. The beach had a completely new look, compared to what it was yesterday. The glass-bottomed boats were anchored casually on the shores. Day's business had not taken off yet. What stood in front of us was a huge canvas, where the Almighty seemed to have drawn a marvelous painting. Emerald green crystal clear water and specks of white cloud floating above. My daughter jumped into the waters. It was low tide. A few meters from the beach we saw a patch of white sand amidst the water. We walked upto that area. We spent the time lazily. When the tide came, we took the glass-bottomed, which would show us the corals. I don't know swimming. So, I was hesitant whether to
try snorkeling. But then I thought, with a little bit of precaution, let me take a chance. And then insisted my wife to also to try it out. To be honest, the corals in Bharatpur beach were not great. They were few and far between. There was a treasury of corals waiting for us in Havelock Island. But the best part of the snorkeling at Bharatpur beach was that it shed the initial inhibition and fear we had about it. That helped us is taking full advantage of the world under sea at Elephanta Beach!

The more crowded Havelock!

We reached Havelock at 3:30 PM. Our initial greetings with the Havelock Island was not warm. The jetty of Neil Island was a long one. It was scenic to find the long jetty, stretching a few hundred metres into the green sea. And there were some picturesque trees with aerial roots beside it. The jetty at Haveolock Island was a very short one. There were a lot more people around. Even the taxi which was supposed to pick us up failed to turn up. Dark clouds began to hover overhead. We reached our resort. Our cottage at Dolphin Resort

was beautiful and the entire area had lots of trees and greenery all around. We did not waste time and staright-away walked onto the beach in front of it, the Vijaynagar Beach. The waves were very small and the water was shallow. It was about 4:30 and yet you knew the darkness is just a few minutes away. Our stay at Havelock was for two nights. My wife wondered whether we were better off at Neil Island. 

It started drizzling again. At one point the power went off. We could hear creeks of beetles and croaks of toads piercing through the darkness. We sat on some chairs, under the garden umbrella, laid near the shore. We could hear the sound of the faint sound waves and catch a glimpse of the moon above when the dark
clouds gave way. Otherwise, it was pitch-dark.
Really, just the presence of sun or its absence can make a world of difference. The very existence of day and night, around which the lives and living creatures revolve is only due to that one phenomenon - the presence and absence of sun. Everything else in nature, otherwise, remains the same. Our lives are so different during day and during night. When the sun shone on the Bharatpur Island, it looked so picture-perfect and it seemed like a paradise. Only the evening before when the sun had faded, Bharatpur Island was a pale shadow of it when it is sunny. At night, it is devoid of any beauty - no emerald green waters, no white sand! Even a cloudy day can be such a dampener. The sun plays such a crucial role in our lives and we hardly take a notice of it. No wonder, since ancient civilizations the Sun God is worshiped in different names, like Ra in Egyptian civilisation, Inti in Inca civilization, Helios in Greek civilisation, Utu in Mesopotamia...During those days, when the concept of artificial light was non-existent, people relied on sunlight as it was the only source of light and with it, hope! The absence of it, the darkness, brings with it uncertainty, fear and helplessness.

We may have come a long way since those days. But, the fact remains, that without the sun everything around would have been non-existent and meaningless.

Day 4: 12th October, Saturday

The wonderful world under the sea

Actually, we lost the date and day during the journey...ours was more of Day 1, Day 2 etc. Its only when I sit to write the blog, do I refer to my calendar to know on what day and what date was and where we were then. There is also another interesting thing we realised on the days at Neil and Havelock Island. A life without mobile! Our mobile network (thank you, Vodafone!) did not have a presence in those islands. Primarily, BSNL and occasionally Airtel  network was available in those islands. So, in a way, nobody could contact us. There was no beep of email or sms notification. We would forget our mobiles at hotel rooms and not worry about the missed calls. 

The day , like the previous one, started very early for me. We would go to the Elephanta Beach. That beach,

though in Havelock Island, is accessible only via speed boats. We were at the jetty by seven in the morning. We reached to Elephanta beach before the crowd had arrived. We were again the first one to arrive there. What a great beach it is. We set out for the glass-bottomed boat again. And we were stunned. This beach had such a constellation of corals. There were fishes - big and small. Soon, we were up for snorkeling. Having gathered the mental strength from our maiden try at Bharatpur Island, this time we were not hesitant to take the plunge. I told our guide to take us to the deeper part where we can find more beautiful corals. It a world about which I had no clue previously. A few youtube videos before the journey did not do any justice to what we had experienced. It was a world where silence is omnipresent. There were schools of coloured fishes and coloured corals. As the sunlight pierced into the seabed, the light and shadow danced to the tunes of the the big and the small fishes, who found their way through the corals and the stones. Its difficult to describe the experience. The guide whispered in my ear names of some fishes and corals. But I was not interested into the technicalities of it. I was enthralled by what was being played in front of me by hundreds of living creatures under water. What a wonderful colourful world it was. And all so harmonious. I have been to some national parks and used to seeing the regular animals. But this is completely different from all that. Here creatures are not captivated or bounded. Here, the wildness has not been chained by human shackles and boundaries. I am thankful to get a glimpse of this amazing world. Even today when I close my eyes, I can see those fishes and corals in front of my eyes.

Unfolding the beauty of the Havelock Island 

As the day rolled, crowd began to throng the Elephanta Beach, for this is one of the must-see places when you visit Havelock Island. It was also getting cloudy. The place seemed to lose the charm that it had early on in the day. While we were returning in the speed-boat, a gush of wind brought in some drizzle, which drenched us completely. We had lunch in the great ambiance of "Full Moon Cafe". Then we went to Kalapathar Beach. It was noon. I don't know whether the timing of the day and the bright sun above had anything to do, but the colour of the water seemed so picture-perfect that we feel it was the most scenic

beaches we had ever seen. We pinched ourselves to make sure we are not dreaming. We were the only ones in the beach. The sound of the waves breaking on the shores and the whistling of the wind as they passed through the trees behind the beach were all that you can hear. Time seemed to stand still. I dont recollect how long we stayed there - 15 minutes, 30 minutes, 1 hour....I don't remember. But one thing is for sure, however long I would have stayed there, I would still yearn to stay there longer. A picture or two can give you an idea of what I am talking. But, surely, no words will. My daughter started playing with the sand and the breaking waves. My wife strolled along, collecting some corals. I kept my camera busy.

Our last destination of the day was Radhanagar Beach, rated as the best Asian Beach in 2004 by the Times Magazine. The beach is the most famous one in the region. Hence, the presence of a lot of people did not surprise us. The beach was very different from Kalapathar Beach. It was crowded, almost thrice the size of

Kalapathar beach and not at all rocky.We had lots of fun in water. The sunset at Radhanagar Beach was stunning.
One of the best things about travel is that you not only get to see a lot of new places, but you also meet people who are different in their own way. The driver, Bijoy, of Neil Island needs a special mention. He was a smart lad. When I realised that he was "taking care" of three tourist groups, including us, on the same day, I was not very pleased. But the way he timed the groups, we never felt he was giving any less attention to us. Not only that, when another tourist group lost their purse, he called the police and ensured that the bag was found in less than two hours! The people in the Andamans are married to someone in nearby islands or they go to study in another island. So, they live in a small closed community of their own. For example, the driver of Havelock Island is a relative of the hotel manager of Havelock Island and he also knew the person from Port Blair, who arranged all our tickets and accommodation, because they played cricket together! He was also a relative to my travel agent in Havelock Island. The people here are very down-to-earth. There is a simplicity in these people, which made our journey even more pleasant. The manager of "Full Moon Cafe", Dipankar, arranged for an auto driver who would deliver our dinner to our hotel room. These are people whom you connect to instantly and even in your first meeting, you feel that you have known them for years. People went out of their way to help you and make your stay more comfortable and enjoyable.

Day 5: 13th October, Sunday

Rain in the Andamans

I woke up in the morning and walked upto the quiet Vijaynagar Beach. The sky was clear initially. Suddenly from nowhere dark clouds gathered on the the distant islands. What lay in front of me was an unique phenomenon. I can actually see the rain lashing portions of the distant island from the dark and dense clouds. Soon, I felt raindrops on me. But the phenomenon I was witnessing was too tempting for me to leave. Of course, in a few minutes I had to take shelter under a roof, for the sake of my camera.
Rains in the Andamans is pleasing for the eyes. It rains very heavily and those green trees and plants get another round of shower. The sound of the raindrops falling on the leaves will mesmerise you. The showers are of short spell and give no warning before the arrival. Anytime you can be caught off-guard by the rains here. They are mostly brought in by the floating clouds. Once that cloud leaves the island, its sunny, as usual.

Beginning of the End

Durga Puja, the most celebrated festivals of the Bengalis, was in full swing. On Sunday morning we took the ferry to Port Blair. But before that we just had enough time to visit the idol of Godess Durga in a decent pandal near the jetty. By then, I had got used to ferry rides.Even my wife and daughter decided to join me on the deck. The refreshing cool breeze, glittering water and bright sun were hard to let go. In the evening, we went to Chidiya Tapu beach and a sunset point nearby. We had high hopes of swimming, one last time in the Andamans. But a warning notice was put up since crocodiles were spotted in the area twice in the last as many weeks.
At Radhanagar Beach during sunset, we saw a person singing most un-melodiously and imitating a famous Hindi movie scene, while his daughter recorded the animated moments. Needless to say, he made a joke out of himself. Because of the swimming ban here, some people just stayed on the shores where water just touches your feet. One person in his mid-fifties, wearing only thongs, was rolling on the wet sand. It was one thing in life he could have easily done away with! And at the sunset point in Chidiya Tapu, when people were amazed at the sunset, someone started shouting that he had just clicked a "million dollar photo" using his "unsmart phone". I wish I went up to him and asked him to show me, before he hits that jackpot and becomes a millionaire!


Another spectacular sunset. Here, the water did not have the colours that those in Havelock and Neil Island had. So, my wife was a bit depressed and told me the place is not that great and photos would not come out well. I differed in my opinion. To me, there is a difference between photos and reality. In a photo, the viewer sees only those area which the photo displays and not even a millimeter beyond it. While, when we see something, we take in as much as we can without filtering out the "unwanted" part from the vision. Its like whether you want to serve the entire dinner to your guest, irrespective of the taste of each dish, or you just want them to have the best dishes. You can call it manipulation or you can call "having an eye to filter the beauty". It depends whether you want to separate the chaff from the wheat and preserve it in an organised way for the rest of your life or just have something in your closet, no matter how crude and unstructured they are!
My wife later admitted that the photos were deserves applaud.
In the evening, we went to the infamous Cellular Jail of Andaman. the light and sound show demonstrated how our freedom fighters were tortured and how strong were their zeal to see an independent India. It was a heart-wrenching, and at the same time, inspirational show. Sense of patriotism filled the air.

Day 5: 13th October, Sunday

Mount Harriet and an almost missed flight

This was bound to happen - sooner or later! The way I plan our trips, there is little margin of error. Despite the fact that our flight is at 12:30 noon, we decided to go to Mount Harriet, Port Blair's highest point. It was a good 70-odd kilometre one-way. Our 2-hour journey was through a typical rural India. Reflections on the water bodies of the distant coconut tress and clouds were a feast to the eyes. Our car zoomed in the narrow roads, occasionally slowing down when trucks and vehicles approached from the other side. Both sides of the road, were generally, muddy, thanks to the on-and-off rain for the last few days. Often we caught sight of
the distant ocean and soon it got lost behind the canopy. A small break at a typical tea stall for stretching our legs. The last few kilometres to Mount Harriet was all the more thrilling. Through the dense rain forest, our car moved up in the spiraling road. Not much of a sunlight was able to pierce through the forest. It was cooler up here. At one point a herd of cows blocked our road. We waited patiently for a good 5-minutes for them to make way. The Mount Harriet peak offered some great views of the adjoining canopied islands and the ocean, jutting into them. On the way back, we stopped at a place to take photos of fleet of boats under the most beautiful azure and in the backdrop of islands.

Everything was going according to plan, until we hit a roadblock while returning. We were supposed to take the ferry, wherein even cars are transported. The problem came when we missed two ferries on a trot as they give preference to locals and 2-wheelers over the 4-wheelers. Our car could not be taken on board. And then we had this eternal wait for the third ferry, which was nowhere to be seen. The clock ticking, we had little option, but to pray for a ferry in the next few minutes.. Suddenly, I realised that there was a passenger-only ferry a few yards away. Without thinking twice, we picked up the luggage, left the car, bid adieu to our good drive, Sanjit, and jumped on it. This took us to the other end and from there an auto took us to the airport just in time. It was almost 11:30. All window seats were booked. In the flight, I requested
my co-passenger, who had the window seat, to click pictures of the tiny islands as our flight took off. He obliged with some great shots.

Concluding thoughts

This vacation was refreshing. There were so many emotions and roller-coaster ride all along. It had its initial moments of anxiety with the ferry getting cancelled. There was the moment of "awe" when we were about to touch the jetty at Neil Island. The moment of heavenly peace to walk on the white sand of the lonely Lakshmanpur Beach in Neil Island. The bone-chilling sight of a snake that looked beautiful and yet poisonous, holed up on the mountain walls. The maiden ship journey, where everywhere you look around

you only see vast stretches of green water. The Kalapathar Beach that looked too beautiful to be true. Watching my daughter having a ball at the Radhanagar Beach and run to the waves and away from them! Standing on the Vijaynagar Beach that day morning and watch dark clouds gather on the distant islands and the rain lashing onto them, a sight aptly captured in my camera. And then the dampener that swimming is prohibited at Chidiya Tapu, only to be rejuvenated by the sight of a great sunset. Last, but not the least, the panic of almost missing the flight. The journey had so much to offer and it is hard to believe that all these occurred in just six days! 

We vowed to come back here again in the next few years. Till then, I will explore other parts of my motherland and ,through her, discover ourselves...And my travelogues shall continue...

Our result-obsessed society

Since childhood we become obsessed with results - the final result, the end result.. From the first day we set foot in school, we are pretty much told to study well and study hard. The reason? "You have to fare well in the exams. Better than your classmates." And the exam will be held right at the end of the academic year - one year later. So, all that you do in one year is keep an eye on those exam dates. The whole year you play, you sing, you dance...but dont forget the exams. Even if you do, the exams will never forget or rather forgive you, if you are insincere towards studies. So, you know you are having a good time the whole year and you also know whether it is actually "good" or "bad" will depend how you do in the exams. Whether you are a "good boy" or "good girl" depends solely on your exam results. The entire year in summed up by a week-long exam. As exams near, tension grips, not only the student, but his or her parents and everyone around. Once the results are out, neighbours and relatives show how much they care! The same cycle follows the next year, the year after and on and on. There is a lot of fun in studying, but the focus on a good result ruins it. An entire year of fun is lost because someone said that you have a week-long exam at the end of it. And then there is the BIG destination that parents point out to their kids - to be a doctor or an engineer that lies a good 10-15 years ahead. The entire childhood is lost in chasing dreams and achieving results. Nobody cares about the journey of growing up and,somewhere, quietly it dies a natural death.

Even I believed a lot in destination and cared little about the journey. But that's until I went to Auli (I have written a blog on it). It is during those days that I realised how beautiful can a journey be...and how much one should enjoy the journey itself instead of getting obsessed by the result or destination, which lies in the distant future. I planned so much about how I would enjoy in Auli. When we undertook the journey, we passed over Haridwar, Rishikesh, Devaprayag and Rudraprayag and found gorgeous rivers and might mountain range as companions all along the mountainous road. I realised the journey itself was so much enjoyable, so much interesting, so much precious. And that we should cherish our moments in the journey rather than being consumed by thoughts of the destination.

We are too occupied with the destination, the result and the financial gain. The journey is never enjoyed as a journey. It is always viewed as a means to reach a destination that lies way ahead in future. A journey is always weighed by the destination it leads to. My MBA was expensive in financial terms. One of the questions I have to face quite often is, "Did spending so much on your UK MBA pay off?" Now, how do I answer that? If you ask me purely on financial terms, then I would perhaps fail to put up a very encouraging profit and loss statement, if I were to make it today. But the journey cannot be summed up in any quantifiable number. My journey of more than a year revolving around Cranfield is what makes it special - the things that are taught inside the class and those that you learn from the environment. Things that actually enrich and enlighten you.The things that I cannot explain, however hard I try.

This result-oriented, or rather result-obsessed, attitude percolates into our day-to-day life. Every time we set out to do something, we keep thinking of the probable result and the possible outcome. As we grow up, we weigh this result in terms of the financial gains. And then we try putting a price tag to everything that we do. Is the purpose of our life to make financial gains in all the "transactions" we make? Why do you sometimes indulge in some good and expensive food and clothes, if basic food and clothes were sufficient for your survival? Is there any material gain that I get during the short trips that I make from time to time. In fact, strictly speaking, there is a financial loss. But, how do I explain someone how much I discover myself each time I visit another fascinating part of my motherland and the world, at large? We have mastered the art of measuring the materialistic parameters of the world, but not the world of the mind and the soul.
People practice for years to climb peaks like the Mt. Everest or the Kanchenjunga. And then they climb them in days and stay at the summit (which were their supposed destination for years) for minutes. What actually makes the climb so appealing is the journey that started with the first day of preparation and not necessarily the few minutes at the summit. It is the journey that makes the destination so special.

I am not sure whether any destination is a permanent destination and any result is ultimate. Destination may be lying way ahead...and yet we don't know whether that is the real destination or that is also a part of a greater journey. The ones that we come across in our lives are more of milestones, to me. You reach one and then you reach another and another. They are like bends and curves that you find in any journey. Some may be easy to tackle; some like the hair-pin bends will be difficult to negotiate; sometimes the ride will be smooth.  If you think that by negotiating the bend ahead you will reach your destination, nothing can be further from truth. The bends are not destination in itself - they should not be mistaken for destination. So,if you focus only on the curves and close your eyes and ears to the twitter of the birds, raindrops on blades of grass and the changing colours of the sky during sunrise and sunset, you have missed some invaluable moments, which are lost forever, never to return. Bends and curves will come in everyone's journey, because they are part of the journey; they make the journey!

My anecdotes, their life!

The world has become much more modern, mechanical and monotonous. When we talk of the cities, we think them as a whole, as a conglomerate of tall buildings, swanky roads and great flyovers, and not necessarily of the individuals who make the city full of life. However, if we are mindful of our surroundings, we come across so many people and so many small incidents involving them. For me, these spark some momentary thoughts which can be put down in  few sentences and which lingers not more than a few minutes. But then suddenly, one lonely morning, like winter fog, these thoughts engulf me along with a handful of questions. And I have no clue what their answers can possibly be.

One such is about a rag picker who collects all the waste papers, water bottles from the trash cans around our locality. He comes in his trolley every night, around eleven - twelve o'clock, when the surrounding is dead silent. At times, dogs bark when he is around. He seems to be unperturbed. I wonder what his life style is....I mean what does he do during the day? Where does he take all these trash to? Why did he choose such a work for his living? Its not he picks up all that he sees...he actually "scans" the garbage and by his search one can make out that he is looking for some specific kind of things. Today is Diwali. The streets are littered with cracker wraps and abandoned cracker packets...I saw his trolley just pass by with loads of them. He must have had a field day...what a life!

Another of a porter whom I once saw in Chennai railway station about a couple of years back. Short height, feeble legs, unshaven white beard. He had two huge suitcases piled on his head and was slowly climbing up the stairs of the footbridge. May be in his early fifties, but looked much older. He seemed to be mildly drunk. I wondered what his childhood would have been...surely he hadn't gone to school. May be he had a drunk father. Or may be he was an orphan, deprived of the love of parents since childhood. An abandoned child, he grew up in and around the railway station. One day when he felt the need to earn for his living he became a porter of the railway station. 

When I was small, we went to Darjeeling once. That was about 20 years back. There a driver took us to Gangtok. He was married, had a daughter who was then studying in Class Two. He had said that when his daughter would be in Class six or so, he would put her to a hostel and , along with his wife, go to one of the Gulf countries. "One can make a good living there. People save a lot...I plan to be there for a few years before returning here", he had said. Did he go to the Gulf? Did his life change or is he still driving along the Darjeeling-Gangtok route? If during any of my visits in that area, I chance to come across him, there is no way I can recognize him...I don't remember his face. What is he doing now?

"I am not rich, but make people rich". I will never forget these lines. A person used to come to our house to sell sugarcane during winter. When I asked what does he do for a living during summer or monsoon, this is what he said. He meant that he sold lottery tickets to persons in trains. He was a very jolly person. He used to come in the afternoon about once a week. And then there were weeks that he did not come. Winters passed and he did not turn up. Wonder what happened to him. Met with an accident? Or did he find a better business? Or may be he actually became rich when he hit a jackpot from his own lottery tickets...God knows.

Along the same lines in the incident of the "florist hawker". An old lady, who can barely carry her basket of flowers used to come on alternate days to our house in Bangalore. Winter was just setting in and she had no warm clothes. When I asked her, she narrated a sad story of how she once supported her four sons when they were small and now no one takes care of her. I took pity on her and bought a sweater for her. She had tears in her eyes...She came for a few more weeks...and then stopped coming. That was a couple of years back. I haven't seen her since then. May be that winter she did not survive...How, when, what..I shall never know.

After the recent catastrophe in the Uttarakhand, where thousands died, I had this feeling that among the dead, there are surely many whom I saw when we visited the area about one and a half years before the calamity. There were tea stalls and shops where we had halted, which may now have been washed away along with the owners. There were definitely relatives of the hotel staffs and hotel staffs themselves who have lost their lives to nature's fury. The driver, for example, who drove us for those six days...what happened to him? Where was he during those horrific days? Is he safe and driving along the same route? Did he survive? How did he survive? Was it a narrow escape?....

One summer afternoon about a couple of years back, I went to the airport to receive my parents. Suddenly I saw an old friend of mine. I was so excited to see him after so many years; but he seemed to shy away from me. Ignoring his strange behavior, I walked upto him. But he was fumbling and did not want to get into any meaningful conversation with me. What made him behave like that? He stayed in Delhi, and came to receive somebody in Bangalore Airport? Why was he not willing to talk to me about his life anymore? Was he trying to run away from his past?...But why? Family problem? Or any other personal tragedy?

The list of such anecdotes is never-ending. It deals with simple people and their simple lives. The quiet lives that we all live, through thick and thin. The daily struggle for existence. The zeal to live despite all hurdles. The hope to see a better tomorrow. 

For me, these are stories with no ending. These are paragraphs of my blog. But, for these real people, this is what we all commonly refer to as, "LIFE"!

What parents do not tell their kids!

Parents often scold their kids when they do badly or "fail" in exams. "Fail" means more like not meeting the parents expectations and not a fail in a subject or class. I think that is quite common with most of the parents and I do not blame any parent,in particular, for that. As parents, we always want our sons and daughters to win every single time - be it in studies, sports or other competition. From childhood we get a feeling that failure is untouchable; failure is humiliating; failure is the end of the road.
Parents seem to have a bagful of wise quotes for their kids except "Failure is the pillar of success". For them, the only way to success is winning, where failure is not an option. However "failed" a parent is, he or she can never see one in the offspring. So, from childhood, the word "failure" becomes synonymous with the word "fear".  For most students, the fun of studies is lost due to the scolding in case of a failure. For the same reason, I think many of us love history, geography, mathematics and science more now than we used to when we were students. And, mind you, this "failure" parameter is not absolute; it is relative to the expectation of the parents. Children enjoy sports, because parents seem less particular about losing in sports. But when it comes to studies, there is absolutely no room for failure. We are motivated to win, but never prepared to lose.


But, are we not missing the bigger picture in the whole process? If I had got 2 marks less in some History paper in Class Five, does it do any difference to me now? Sadly, for students, those 2 marks, a miscalculated arithmetic problem, a diagram without labeling, an essay with a couple of spelling mistakes are made to look like the roadblocks to their future career. And all these when the parents could have easily told "Its okay to fail, dear. Make sure you put up a better show next time. We all fail". Yes, "we all fail!". That's the word they never tell. Until the students grow up into adults and find for themselves, much later in my life, that "we all fail". True, we all love success and love to win, but failure is unavoidable. Parents forget to teach their kids how to accept failure gracefully and move on. So, for the kids, failure often comes as a shock and a disappointment.

The fear of failure makes us hesitant to take a risk. Every time before taking a risk, we think of the fearful consequences in case it does not click. After all we have become terrified of the word (failure) since childhood. In Western countries, parents are not so "protective" about their wards. Perhaps, that is why they have a greater risk-taking capability than us, Indians. May be, that is also a reason they are more adventurous and more entrepreneurial than their Eastern counterparts.

Failure is a part of our life since childhood. We fall when we first try to stand on our own. We fall when we leave our parents' fingers for the first time and try to walk on our own. In every phase of our life we stumble upon some things, we falter, we fall, we fail. Everyday there are moments where we don't get what we want. Is it not a type of failure?  Its not bad to fall. Its bad when that fall makes you a weaker person.

My daughter is only four now. When she grows up, one day I shall tell her, "Its okay to fail, dear. We all do. Just make sure you don't repeat the mistake. I know you can put up a better show". I would rather let her fall and fail and be there as a safety net, than develop a fear for failure in her. I would rather see her run and fall and bruise her ankle, than not run at all.
Failure will be part of her life in one form or the other. She has to face that with courage and dignity. The fear of failure will only take the fun out of an integral part of her life.

One day I would leave you

One day I would leave you -
With or without permission,
Like the gradual onset of night
Or the sudden gush of wind
And you could nothing about it!

You would look at my dresses
And my other personal belongings
And know not what to do with them.
You won't be able to throw them,
And yet their sight will aggrieve you.

You would look at the old albums
And flip over my photos...
The younger me, the older one,
The happier me, the sadder one
My laughter, my looks.

Each year my birthday would pass
And so our marriage anniversary.
And so many other dates
Which are so special to us...
You will miss me then...even more.

Small things and events
Would remind you of me;
You would wish I were there
To share your feelings and emotions
Like we did for so many years.

And then you would realise
That you truly loved me
And so did I.
And how I had become a habit
And you did not plan for such a void...

So, lets celebrate all these years of togetherness -
When the sun is bright
And the grass is green
The birds chirping
And the kids are playing.

For when the darkness will befall
The birds will return to their nests,
And the kids will return home.
A deadly silence will prevail.
You could nothing about it!

The Himalayan kingdom of Himachal Pradesh

Can we go to ...err...the Himalayas?

Generally I plan my vacation months ahead. But this was one was more impromptu. In mid-April I realised that I can perhaps just squeeze in a short trip around mid-May, that is a month from then. In May there are fewer places to go other than the mountains of the Himalayas. I popped my proposal to have a vacation in the Himalayan state of Himachal Pradesh to my wife. I was hesitant whether she would agree. If she did it meant we would go to the Himalayas 4 times in the last 19 months - Kashmir, Uttarakhand, West Bengal and ,this time, Himachal Pradesh. Not bad. My admiration for the Himalayas is no secret. But that does not mean she has to fall for the Himalayas too. She loves dogs; I dont! After a bit of coaxing, she agreed. Phew!
The next hurdle came in the form of selecting the destination. Overnight bus journey was something I wanted to avoid. And trains were fully booked and overflowed to waiting lists. But I was pretty desperate. Luckily, I found plenty of seats in a special train that would take us to Pathankot...and from there Dalhousie, Khajjiar and the likes.
So, on 15th of May, Wednesday, afternoon we were in the Indigo Airlines flight and off to Delhi.  Overnight train journey took us to Chakki Ban.

Thursday, the 16th May, 2013

It was morning 5:30 when the train stopped in the Chakki Bank railway station for 2 minutes halt. We jumped off the train. It was a clear sky, with few flakes of white clouds above. The station looked pretty clean. We could not find any porter, so carried the luggage up the foot-bridge. Our driver had arrived. I had given him a wake-up call at 4

AM. No sooner did we leave the plains of the Pathankot did we find ourselves in the spiraling mountain roads. It was early morning and traffic had not flooded the roads yet. So, it was a fairly smooth ride. We reached Dalhousie in about a couple of hours. But that is not where we would stay. Our destination was a place called Kalatop obout 15 km from Dalhousie.

Serenity at The Kalatop Forest Rest House

The last few kilometers to Kalatop was through huge devdar trees on stone-strewn narrow roads. The roads had many turns through the forest. We realised that as we were going deeper and deeper into the forest, we were moving out of the hustle and bustle of the civilised world. Gradually it was the sound of the car only and occasional tweets of the birds. Our road ended onto the huge gates, what looked like that of a old traditional old bungalow. It was the Kalatop Forest Guest House. Almost wrapped under the huge trees and beautifully lit by the yellow sunlight the small cottage looked absolutely stunning. I walked up to the caretaker and handed over my booking confirmation. He showed us our room.

It was pretty cold. Hard to believe that when the rest of India is reeling under severe heatwave, we are wearing thick pullovers and have been provided with thick blankets for the night. After placing the luggage inside the room and getting refreshed, we stepped out of the room and basked outside. After many many years, I was able to hear the sound of the wind as it whistled past the leaves and the trees. The silence of the surroundings was broken only by the tweeting of the birds from some distant branches and the sound of the breeze. The distant snow-capped Pir Panjal range was right opposite to our cottage. Soon we realised that we were the only guests in the sprawling bungalow. It was a privilege, indeed, to be so close to nature and not getting disturbed by any over-enthusiastic tourists. My daughter was having a great time. She was running  here and there, chasing butterflies, posing for the photographs. We had the lunch on garden, overseeing the beautiful mountain range. In the afternoon we decided to visit a mini-trek called Dainund peak.

Trek in The Dainkund Peak:

The car again rolled down slowly through the woods. It was so green and serene. After about an hour ride we reached the base point of Dainkund Peak. It is a small trek, where you climb up some 1-2 km to have a great view of the surroundings. We were initially skeptical whether my daughter would be able to climb up. Because carrying her and climbing was quiet a tedious job. We soon found that she enjoyed the journey and was pretty excited negotiating the way through the faintly-outlined roads and the green soft grass. The view from the top was mesmerizing. The roads snaked through the mountains. The surrounding mountains seemed closer. The afternoon sun made the walk a pleasant one. Daisy and other beautiful flowers grew all over the place. Butterflies, dragonflies, bees and other insects were having a feast. From one point in the Dainkund Peak trek, we could catch a glimpse of the Khajjiar, officially called the Switzerland of India and our destination for Day 3.After spending a few hours in the Dainkund point, we were driving back

Sunset at The Kalatop Forest Rest House

It is no secret that I have an admiration for sunrise and sunset. My photos and my blogs also have good dose of them. The sunset of the Kalatop was again a special one. With no other tourists around, I saw the sun slowly and stealthily hid behind the grand Pir Panjal range right opposite to our room. Just when the sunrays began to turn orange, the few villagers who lived below started returning back to their homes. Cattles and sheep lined to return to their herds. Women drove them, with stacks of dead twigs and brunches on their shoulders. A man returned from work and hugged his little son who was waiting in front of the doors. The difference between the tired smile from the man and the innocent one from the child was the difference between adulthood and childhood. The light was fading pretty fast, as was the temperature plummeting. My daughter was as energetic as ever. My wife was sitting on the garden chair. The golden sun rays fell on the patio. The breeze was becoming cooler. Up above birds flew in flocks and were returning to their nests. Flakes of white clouds have gathered. There was almost pin-drop silence. Sometimes I heard
jingling sound from some cows and bullocks returning home with their master. The life of the simple villagers here revolve round these basic activity. They are , perhaps, oblivion of the larger world outside. They are busy finding solutions to their problems, they are occupied in doing their daily duties honestly...and that be raising their family and earning bread and butter for them. During snow when this area is covered in snow, they migrate to the lower areas of the region. Once the snow melts, they return. When I talk of my motherland, I dont only mean people in the metros or those living a luxurious life or the urban middle class Indian. These people are also Indians. When we talk about the world, we dont only discuss about the Americans and the Europeans, but these humble people also, who have been living in some remote parts of the world for generations. It is my way of exploring my motherland, my world and myself.
The night was bone-chilling cold. As soon as it became dark, I slipped under the blanket. Good that there was no TV in the room. The mobile signal was weak. We were literally cut-off from the rest of the world. With no other guests or rooms around, it was dead silence in a pitch-dark Kalatop Forest.

Friday, the 17th May, 2013

Boating at The Chamera Lake

Chamera Lake is a little known lake in the Chamba district of Himachal Pradesh. It is around one to two hours from our accommodation at Kalatop. We checked out of our hotel early in the morning bidding farewell to the poetic Kalatop Forest Bungalow. Again through the woods and some more "adventurous" roads our car reached the lake in around 2 hours. We had already seen the lake from the top by stopping our car at a view point on the road. It looked green to the core. It was surrounded by mountains and a road

outlined the lake. When we reached the lake we found that the dreaded hands of commercialization had not got a good grip of the place yet. Only, one one boat surfed the lake at any point of time, unlike in lakes of other popular hill stations where fleets of boats criss-cross the lake.. There were only five to six stalls around selling snacks, chips etc. We took a good one-hour trip around the lake. I dont have the words to describe the experience. I hope the serenity is preserved in the coming years too. But I am sure as more and more people come to know about this place, we will see an increase in human activities around the area. First Kalatop and then this lake. Both are little know places. And both offer the exquisite view of the Himalayan beauty, unspoiled by the human infiltration.

Dalhousie

Dalhousie is one of the most popular hill stations in India. And that meant lots of shops, vehicles, tourists, crowd and chaos. Our hotel in Dalhousie was placed at a very nice location. As I removed the curtains of the huge windows of our room, I found snow-capped mountains , which seemed like an arms distance from our room. In the afternoon we went out to see the common sight seeing points. In the evening we went to the market area, where we had hot popcorn with steaming hot tea. Crowd and commercialization ensured that
the cold factor is not an issue here. At night when my wife and daughter slept, I stayed awake for more than an hour gazing at the mountains, seeing some tiny glows on them when any car or bus or lorry passed by. After many years I was saw clusters of fireflies just below our window.The world outside seemed to have been gone under a dark and cold blanket. The hotel was also quiet. I was feeling tired. So, went to sleep soon after.

Saturday, the 18th May, 2013

Breezy Jot (Chowari) Pass

Its difficult to keep us quiet.We are always on the move. The journey from Dalhousie to our next halt, Khajjiar, was around 20 km. So, we started early from Dalhousie and instead of directly going to Khajjiar, we went to the Jot Pass. This is one of the lesser know places around Dalhousie. But again a gem of a place. More than the destination, the journey was thrilling. Through the Devdar trees and along the snowy Pir Panjal range, on the empty road the drive was worth. The place was quite breezy. We climbed up to a high point. Saw some sheep and horses grazing at a distance in the green meadow. Another facet of the Himalayan mountains. We spent about an hour here. Really nothing much to do than to see the occasional cars and buses and lorries ply on the roads below. There was an abandoned hut with thatched roof. It was a place where you can have your mind wander and let your thoughts free.

Khajjiar - The mini Switzerland of India

Khajjiar has been officially recognised as the Mini Switzerland of India. Sometimes I wonder whether there is any Mini Himalayas in any other parts of the world. I dont think so. And the reason perhaps is the diverse and contrasting landscape of the Himalayas. There are vast green valleys, cold deserts, highest peaks, gorgous lakes...you name them. Those who haven't gone to the Himalayas will have no clue of the grandeur. Those who have gone, even a hundred times, are clueless of her grandeur. The word mountain or mountain range is very misleading in this case. For, the Himalayas is much more than that. The more we explored the more we are in awe. And the more we wanted to come back again and again to the Himalayan mountains.

When I was looking for accommodation in Khajjiar, people had one answer: stay in the HPTC (Himachal Pradesh Tourism Corp.) accommodation. Done. When I went to book, I saw except the relatively pricy Khajji cottage, everything else was booked. So, Khajji cottage be it. When we reached Khajjiar, I realised this is what is called a boon in disguise. The khajji cottage is placed at one corner of the vast green valley, surrounded by tall devdar trees. The entire world seemed to be on the other side! A walk to the restaurant takes a minimum of 20-25 minutes. The cottage was a heritage building, built about 150 years ago. Hugely spacious rooms, having provision for a fireplace, which made it  look like we have been transformed to some medieval days luxury.
The valley was crowded initially. But as the day was coming to an end, it seemed we owned the place! There were lots of activities going on. Romantic couples dressed like the locals and clicking photos. People took snaps with rabbits. There was no dearth of snacks and those street-side foods.People rode ponies. I decided to take one that circumfenced the entire valley. Not to miss are the innumerous sheep who graze.

They seemed fearless and  oblivious to the presence of human beings . They come almost beside you and start grazing, as if they don't care about our presence in their place. As the sun hid behind the tall trees and dusk approached, we slowly walked back to our isolation. At night, the moon shone clearly upon the vast field. Light from shops and buildings at the other end valley resembled stars. The darkness on the valley brought with it the fear of the unknown. What was hustling and bustling a few hours ago has fallen silent. The known world suddenly becomes unknown; the seen becomes unseen. In Puri through the darkness pierced the roaring sound of the sea waves. Here it is the deadly silence. Both are equally hair-raising, when you come to think of it. Both the cases are shrouded with mystery.It was cold. We had an early dinner and went to sleep. I dreamt of a white Khajjiar! Khajjiar in winter, when the entire area gets covered under thick layer of snow. I am sure one day I will turn that dream to a reality.

Sunday, the 19th May, 2013

Crowded Dharamsala

Dharamsala, about 120 km from Dalhousie, was not exactly on my list as it was difficult to fit it in our short trip. At the insistence of our driver, I thought to give it a try. It started off well, as we left Khajjiar when the first rays of the sun just started kissing the tall trees surrounding the valley.But when we reached Dharamsala we realised that we stepped inside an overcrowded stadium! There was an IPL cricket match the day before and people thronged in the small city. Though the surrounding mountains gave the city a very charming look, but the loads of cars, road blockages, people walking in the middle of the streets spoiled the beauty of the place. We were not very amused. And it was hot, too! We saw some places, most notably the residence of His Highness Dalai Lama, Triund trek point, tea gardens of nearby areas and then back to the Chakki Bank station, from where it all started 4 days back. This time the station seemed hot. Indeed it was hot. Not very clean and quite crowded, which is very much in contrast to the first impression I had about it on the morning of the first day when we landed here.


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Sweet Memories

From the Delhi airport my wife and daughter took the flight to Kolkata, where they would have an extended vacation. I took the flight to Bangalore. It was a short and sweet vacation. While on flight I was thinking of the last 4-5 days. As I write them now, I still remember them so vividly. There are so many days in our life which we pass, and not necessarily, live. So, I wont be able to recollect those days, even if they number to thousands. But these days of vacation and similar other days stand out from the rest in our lives. A life is

enriched by the number of memorable moments we live and remember. These vacations do exactly that.
They fill the treasure of moments with unforgettable memories. Time can take everything away from a man. But not bygone days, not memories. It is this bagful of sweet memories I bring every time from my vacation that makes these vacations so special. It is for these wonderful moments that I am ready to plan and toil and slog a thousand more forgetful moments. For, at the end of the day all the pain of planning and toiling will go. But, what will remain with me and what I can cherish for the rest of my life are those precious out-of-the-world moments.

The Walks and the Thoughts

Sometimes the walk is not just a walk. Some walks are longer than the others. Some walks seem endless. Some walks are joyful; some are soulful.Quite often they are the times I talk with myself. I reflect back. I dream. I get lost into myself.

During childhood the walk that I had with my maternal grandfather to see the trains reaching the railway station and then see them whistle away from there was one filled with excitement. We went there for days. He also took us for a walk to the riverside. We watched the ferry boats crossing the wide river (Ganges); fishermen on their boats spreading out the fishing nets and catching fish. My grandfather took us to the village, where we had some paddy fields. I remember a winter morning, in particular. We were all wrapped up in mufflers, sweaters and gloves. The village road seemed to have lost its way in the foggy winter. There were bamboo forests and mango trees on both sides of the brick road. We walked through them and some paddy fields. A typical childhood walk it was- with grandfather and an atmosphere that resembles the misty and dreamy days of fairyland.

During school summer and winter holidays my father sometimes took us to vacation to some mountains or the seas. Then we had walks, as a family. The walk in the Darjeeling Mall and the Shimla Mall remains one of the most cherished walks of my life. They were lazy and walks without any destination - kind of wandering, I would say. On the contrary, the two-step two-minute walk to teacher when I knew that he was angry and I did not do my homework is something I would never like to recollect.Our school playground was about a kilometer from our school. So, during "PT classes" we walked  in a line to the playground. The road mainly ran along the stealthily flowing river Ganges. During the 10-minute walk, we played pranks on each other, we talked about our "match strategies" with our "rival teams". When we returned the talk depended on whether we won or lost - either euphoric or depressed.

During my engineering college days, the walk to the college hostel from the college gate seemed endless at times. Not for the distance, but perhaps, for the fact that I was never able to find myself at-home in that college. Sometimes I had the lonely walks in the huge college campus, where the narrow roads excused itself through the green grasses and tall trees with yellow and grayish buildings on either sides. Those walks were gloomy. I dreamt of the better world beyond the college compound walls. Yes, there was the usual college life. But the thoughts during those lonely walks was far from those.

When I first came to Bangalore, on Sunday evenings I had lonely walks in front of my house. Sometimes I walked upto the cyber cafe placed around two blocks from my house. Had a chat with my fiancee or some some old friends. And then late evening, when the chat was over, there was another slow walk through some dark by-lanes of the city. During those days I commuted by bus and the bus terminus was about a kilometer from my office. The walk from my office to the bus terminus with office bag hung from my shoulder was different. The thoughts during the walk had more to do with how I can become better at what I was doing and how not to get lost in the crowd.

One day there was this walk from my grandfather's room to the gate of my house, when I kind-of felt that it was the last time I am seeing him alive. My legs hardly carried me to the gate. In a couple of months, I realised I was right. When I am on some official trips abroad and have those weekends when there is not much to do, I take a walk in that city, in front of the hotel. The walk on the snow-covered apartment complex on a white Christmas morning in Salt Lake City, the walk in the hot and humid streets of Bangkok, the walk on the beautiful pavements of Melbourne, the walk on the crowded streets of Hanoi and the walk on the bone-chilling cold nights in Seoul are as diverse as they can be. And , yet, they all hold a special place in my heart.

The barefoot walk on the beaches of Goa with my wife was that of joy. The cool sea breeze, laden with moisture from the blue Arabian Sea, and the soft morning sun that greeted us made the walk a romantic one. During my MBA days I had to do a lot of walk from my Fedden House accommodation to the college buildings. Diverse thoughts played in my mind. Thoughts about life after MBA, thoughts about near and dear ones back home in India, thoughts about the English climate and the English dream...this walk and the thoughts repeated itself almost every single day during my stay in Cranfield.

The walk to hold my daughter for the first time and look into her barely-open eyes at 6:10 PM on 19th September, 2009, will always be special. The walk to teach her walk and the umpteen times I walked with her since then , holding her tiny fingers, are treasured walks. We had one walk on the banks of the river Ganges in the lap of the Himalays - peaceful and calm. Today when I see disturbing images of the place greatly devastated by rain, that walk becomes more special. It reminds me of the precious little moments in life.

The walk continues - in every sense. Walking from childhood to youth and then to adulthood. Walking from one phase of life and stepping into another. Walking through days and nights, walking through the years, walking through time.Walking to the sunset years...and ,who knows, may be to a better life after that?
The walking continues...for you, for me and for every one of us.

The wrath and the warmth of the Himalayas

I just love the Himalayas.Period.I am in awe and admiration over her pristine beauty and grandeur. The blue sky with flakes of woolly clouds, the green mountains and distant blue snow-capped hills, the murmuring brooks, the lonely sunsets, the chilling winter nights...I can see them all whenever I wish to. I feel at home there. If past lives exist, then surely I have been there in some form or the other, among those trees and those flora and fauna.

But the recent disaster in the Himalayas owing to the incessant rain in those regions has added one more dimension to my feelings to the mighty Himalayas. It is the feeling of deep respect, that one develops from a sublime and subtle fear; something that a kid has for his parents, I guess. However much we travel or trek, the Himalayas has a special place in Nature and we should never think that we are in control of her. Many of the Hindu mythologies revolve around the existence of the Himalayas. In fact, the Himalayas is the abode of the Hindu GOD of creation and destruction Lord Shiva. Lakhs of pilgrims undertake the Char-Dham yatra, as a ritual, primarily to pay homage to Lord Shiva and his different avatars. And now that yatra or pilgrimage tour is itself in shambles. Thousands struck, hoping to get rescued by the army. I can only imagine the horrifying experience those religious people are experiencing - the dreadful thoughts and the nightmarish nights and living every moment in a mix of hope and anxiety.

It is destruction, to say the least - destruction of roads, bridges, cities, house, dreams! The houses fell like a pack of cards; miles of towns, which cradled hundreds of huts, were washed away by the monstrous waters of the rivers, which only days before was the reason for their existence. We went there a year and a half back. Now when I compare those photos with the ones I see in news channels and newspapers I can hardly control my grief. The saline tears of those people have mixed with the muddy water that is gushing down the mountains with the ear-defying thunder. But perhaps this is Nature's way to creating new grounds for creation - getting rid of the old and making way for the new. Yes, eventually when the government figures will be out, we might find thousands have lost their lives in the calamity and thousands more missing. But when we consider the vastness of the Himalayas and her existence, then this is, at most, a small flurry and nothing more. I am sure that such events or even worse have taken places earlier and innumerable times in the history of the Himalayas. It might not have taken place within the living memory of anyone, but if the age-old rocks and boulders and the trees that dot the Himalayas could talk, they would have put a seal on my words.

Creation and destruction are like days and nights, like life and death. One cannot exist without the other. They need co-existence.  While one involves pain, the other joy and yet one is nothing without the other. New trees will show up where the fertile soil from the mountains have deposited. The boulders and rocks which somehow managed to stick around has been flung around. After 4-5 years traces of the destruction may remain. But another 2-3 years from then, Nature will get rid of the slightest dent of this calamity. It will get over it as if nothing has happened, just like during days there is no trace of nights except in our memories.

The warm sun will again rise over the Himalayan mountains. People will travel and trek across the mountain ranges once again after a brief pause. Some people may be hesitant initially to venture in those regions, but the zeal inside will conquer the fear. Today's week-long and month-long dark days will seem like a blip. People will talk about it. Those who experienced them first hand will recollect them from time to time. And then like the deposition of the soil on the river banks, other events in their lives will fade their memories about this horrific calamities. Deep inside in our DNAs we have been programmed to look for the light in the tunnel and not the darkness of the tunnel. That spirit is what keeping thousands of lives stuck in the Himalayan calamity, alive. We look forward towards the sun rise and the beginning of the day.

So, years after this disaster, life will be back to normal in the Himalayas, like it had been since eternity. It will foster the flora and fauna and continue to nurture a vast majority of the Indian civilisation, which depends in some way or the other on Her, most of all the water from the Himalayan rivers. Many years from now what will glitter are the marks of creation, not destruction - new trees, new roads, new bridges, new homes, new huts, new villages, new towns, and a whole set of new dreams of new people.