26th December, 2015
Leaving Bhuj.
There was the trademark whistle of the train. The signal
turned green. The guard waved his flag. Didi, Rakesh-da and Hritik were waving
at us from the station. The last two days we had lots of fun and enjoyment. The
train was making a slow exit out of the platform, until they were out of sight.
Now, we were on the way to the land of deserts, palaces and colourful people,
the land of the Rajas and the Maharajas, the land we commonly called Rajasthan!
Yet, the hangover of Bhuj has not left us. The train journey was not boring,
otherwise. We met an Army men who talked about his life in the borders of our
motherland. How he was posted in world highest battlefield, the Siachen glacier
a year back when temperature plunged to an inhuman -50C and now, in the coming
summer, he would be posted in the deserts of Rajasthan, where temperature would
be easily 50C. I could not stop admiring him.
We reached Abu Road at midnight. The hotel I had booked was
very near to the station. We walked through the desolate streets to the hotel.
By the time we slept, it was around 2 AM in the morning. I have been awake for
the last 20 hours since I woke up at 4 AM to watch the sunrise at the White
Rann. It was indeed a long day.
Sunday, 27th December, 2015
Arriving Udaipur, The City of Lakes
The alarm clocked screamed at 6:30 AM. Morning was cold. By
8:30 AM we were on the road again! Our driver, Arjit, was zooming on the Abu
Road-Udaipur Highway at 100 kmph. The road was very scenic, with ridges on
either side of the road. The weather was pleasant.It was sunny. We stopped to
have breakfast on a highway restaurant. On the green lawns, carpeted by dew
drops, we smelt the  |
| Abu Road to Udaipur |
At around noon we entered Udaipur, the City of Lakes. Our
first stoppage was the vintage car museum. We realized that in the next few
days we will be rewinding our watches and be transported to the time of the
Rajas and the Maharajas. The Mercs and Rolls Royce surely added a dash of
glamour to whoever rode them.
The Udaipur Palace
Our next stop was the famous Udaipur Palace. A lot has been written about it. And there is
a great deal of history behind the palaces and, surely, each and every antique
pieces in its museum. But that’s not what I have come to look for in Udaipur. I
have come here to enjoy the beauty. The boat ride on Lake Pichola was very
pleasant. It was afternoon when the sun was blazing, but not hot. A cool
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| Boat Ride at Lake Pichola. Udaipur Palace at the backdrop |
After the ride we went to the museum and roamed around in
the palace. Every piece of work was so beautifully done and, more importantly,
preserved that they are worth applauding. We were hungry and had lunch in the
palace. There was a huge crowd in the painting galleries. I didn’t know that common Indians nurtured so
much interest in the field of art! I, for one, was not interested to push
myself and be pushed in the crowd. So, we excused ourselves to the other
galleries that were relatively less crowded. So, we explored the ammunitions gallery
instead. The weapons on display were of the best kind in those eras. Swords,
amours, knives, pistols, guns, bows and arrows of different types were on
display. They looked gorgeous behind those glass doors. In today’s context they
don’t have any other option either. No soldier, no army of any nation will use
them to defend themselves. And yet in those times the Rajputs used these to
ward off the strong Moghul army. How a few centuries change the world and her
people! Warfare, I believe, has got a paradigm shift in the last few centuries.
Horses versus tanks, bows and arrows versus the Kalashnikov, you name it! And
then onto the crystal gallery, which was an exhibition of the wealth the kings
enjoyed and also the fine taste that they shared.
While exploring the different entry and exit points, the
huge doors, we lost our way in the huge palace. Suddenly we found ourselves in the centre of a
huge and lavishly decorated banquet hall. It
From one of the windows I saw the sun setting behind the
hills skirting the Pichola Lake. Birds flew around. The water in the lake
glittered. A few boats were sailing on the lake, leaving a long trail of line
behind. The colour of the lake turned from silver to golden in a few hours
time.
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| Sunset at Lake Pichola |
An Evening at Udaipur
We were too tired to wait for the light and sound show,
which would start a good one hour later. So, we went to the hotel that I had
already booked. Aashiya Haveli. We had to leave our car at a market place and
take an auto-rickshaw through the narrow lanes of Udaipur. The city still had
its charm of an old city and yet a very beautiful one.
“Why didn’t you book in any of these hotels? Where are these
narrow lanes leading us to?”,
Debreena said as our auto negotiated a
two-wheeler which almost hit our vehicle.
And then we reached the Haveli. Pristine. It was what Udaipur
was. Had that old flavor and yet that modern touch. Modern rooms with
architectures and paintings that make you so comfortable and at ease. It was
right on the banks of the Lake Pichola. Debreena was too tired to wait for me
in the reception for the formalities. Our room was in the third floor. When I
entered in, after around 10 minutes, I saw my wife gazing at the lake from the
huge window of our room.
“One night is not enough in this hotel. You should have
booked this room for at least two nights!”, she said almost as soon as she came
to senses and saw me.
“But I thought you said completely different some time
back…”, I said.
We ordered some evening snacks and went to the terrace. The
lights of the palace, of the distant Jagmandir Palace, of the lake palace
hotels and hotels and restaurants along the banks of lake shone all over. It
was a quite evening. It reminds me of the famous song of Kishore Kumar:
“Woh shaam kuchh ajeeb thi
Yeh shaam bhi ajeeb hai
Woh kal bhi paas paas thi
Woh aaj bhi kareeb hai”
Yeh shaam bhi ajeeb hai
Woh kal bhi paas paas thi
Woh aaj bhi kareeb hai”
(There was something different about that evening
There is something special about this evening too.
That evening was so close to my heart
Even this evening is so dear)
 |
| From the terrace of Ashiyan Haveli, while sipping tea |
It was an evening when you take a sip at the cup of tea and
unshackle your thoughts and mind. You look across the lake, the man-made
palatial structures and the starry sky with the bright moon ahead. So many
shapeless thoughts jostle within. You don’t know whether you are dreaming. You
don’t know when the hands of the clock make a complete turn. You are just so
lost!
It was late night. Then we went for some shopping in
Udaipur. I had a razai to buy – one for me, another for a friend. In the famous
retail market of Hathipole of Udaipur, we found most of the shutters were down.
Luckily a few were open and we managed to buy the razai that I was looking for and some dress for my daughter. By the
time we were out of the shop, almost all the shops were closed and stray dogs
strolled on the roads.
We took another auto rickshaw and headed towards the
restaurant that was supposed to be one of the best in town. When we reached the
dining area, we were pleasantly surprised to find that just across the lake on
the opposite side was our haveli. In the evening our boat passed by this
lakeside restaurant. Soft live Hindustani Classical music, flute precisely, was
being played. People were having a good time. Meeting with old friends,
catching up with extended family, or be it a quiet dinner for lovebirds, you
have all in this restaurant. We ordered mutton biriyani and some kababs.
The
kababs just melted in our mouth. I can still smell the aroma of the biriyani.
And then kulfi to end the evening. We had one at the palace. But we cant resist
one more here.  |
| While we were having dinner |
The evening slowly turned into night. Lights of some havelis
were getting switched off. The city was falling silent. We returned to our hotel. The lights that lit
the lake and the hotels and restaurants were switched off. The lake was now
dimly lit. The lake seemed to take some respite from the boats and birds, and
the crowds and the cacophony. The waters of the lake shimmered at the gentle
touch of the breeze. It seemed the lake was breathing in and out as the city fell
asleep. Our room had a huge window. And the bed was adjacent to it. It was an
evening that still rings in my ear and appears in my dreams.
Watching the lake and its placid water, the reflection of
the light on it, I didn’t realise when I fell asleep. I woke up to a new day!
Monday, 28th December, 2015
Udaipur in the morning
The lake looked so much one with nature. The orange rays of
the sun sparkled on the lake. The buildings and palaces, mostly white, seemed
to have been gifted with a golden crown. We had a cup of tea under the morning
sun and the cold breeze. It was a different Udaipur. Last evening she was
wrapped in gold; this morning she is draped in silver. Last evening she was the
sunflower, now she is the jasmine.
“We should have stayed here for at least two days”, my wife
said again when we were about to get into the car. I agreed as I turned back to
see the pristine Lake Pichola, which has still not fully woken up from the
slumber.
 |
| The Golden Crown! |
At the World’s Second Longest Wall
Our next stop is at Kumbhalgar Fort. It is the world’s second
longest wall, just after the Great Wall of China. Sadly, only a handful of
Indians know about it. There is a famous line by Rabindranath Tagore, the first
Asian to win Noble Prize, “dekhite giyachhi sindhu dekha hoy nai chokshu meliya
ghor hote shudhu dui pa pheliya ekti ghasher shisher upor ekti shishir
bindu”. (I have travelled afar to see the ocean. And yet I have not seen the
beauty of the dew drops on the blades of the grasses in my backyard.) We,
Indians, are so obsessed about “foreign trips” that we hardly have enough time
to explore our motherland. For a true traveler, its not the name of the country
that should determine the place of visit, but the place itself that should
determine it. And there is always that satisfaction exploring my motherland.
Here, you not only get to see a new place, but, in the process, you also discover
your roots and explore the rich heritage that you are so much part of.
At Kumbhalgarh Fort, we parked our car parked at the parking
lot. And there lay in front of us a huge fort. When we looked up we wondered
how we could reach so high. And then we started. One step at a time. Pausing.
And starting again. Resting. And starting again. Gudiya grumbled for a moment.
And the next moment she was sprinting on the steep slopes of the fort. We saw
the stable, the places where the food was cooked, tank to store water.
While we were resting on a bench, a mother told her 10-years
old daughter to throw the empty water bottle in a corner of the fort, she shot
back saying. “No, I will only throw it in the dustbins. Havent you heard about
the Swatcha Bharat Abhijan (Make India Clean) that our PM is talking about”.
Way to go, girl!
Slowly we reached the terrace of the fort. It was windy up
here. The parking lot looked tiny. Here, only a few centuries back, the kings
and the soldiers marched along. Overlooking the barren and
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| Kumbhalgarh Fort |
As we were coming down, we realized that the number of
people has increased. The number of has cars increased. With an unreliable mobile
phone signal, we had a tough time finding our driver. Our lunch was not that
great. It was pretty ordinary by the standard set by Rajasthani cuisine.
At the Jain Temple of Ranakpur
The next stoppage was the Jain temple of Ranakpur. Not a
huge one, especially after you see those palaces and forts. A relatively small
and innocent one with a humble gate that welcomes you. As you enter in, you are
dumbstruck. The sculpture and work of
art on the walls of the temples, on the
 |
| The Jain Temple at Ranakpur |
Arriving Jodhpur
 |
| Rajasthani Thali |
We reached Jodhpur in the late evening. Like in Udaipur, the
car stopped near a market place. From there we had to take an autorickshaw
through the crowded streets. At one point, we were stranded for not less than
30 minutes while a marriage party was celebrating on the roads. It was
frustrating and at the same time a good experience. As we opened the huge gate
of the Singhvi Haveli, we found ourselves in a vintage house. While the one at
Udaipur was more modern than vintage, it is the other way round here. Walls had
nice paintings; the staircase was narrow and had murals of peacocks. Like in
Udaipur, we were given the best room, which was on the terrace. A narrow iron
staircase led us to
our room. There was a pair of sword criss-crossed on the
wall in the room. And from there the Meherangarh Fort was just a few yards away
as the crow flies. We were too tired to venture out for dinner. We ordered
thali at the restaurant of the hotel. There were enough variety of dishes to
serve the purpose. And then there was the Kulfi. We were getting addicted to
Kulfi in Rajasthan. Tuesday, 29th December, 2015
Jodhpur – The Blue City
I woke up early morning and went to the terrace. Camera hung
from my neck. I realised why it is called the blue city. It had that soothing
blue colour painted on most of the houses. It was fascinating. It was blue as
far as I can see in front of me, until the blue houses blended with the blue
sky at the distant horizon. Behind me was the huge Meherangarh Fort. It looked
like a massive demon overlooking the city. Parrots chirped and flew all over –
through the turrets and on the electric wires, from some holes on the fort and
the terrace. The blue houses had the narrow lanes dividing them. Later the
hotel owner said me that in ancient times lest the meat-eating “Khatriya” soldiers
enter the house of the vegetarian Brahmins and priests and “impure” them, th |
| The Blue City |
We had typical Rajasthani breakfast. And kulfi again! Its
strange that in those cold winter mornings kulfis don’t create sore throat or
running nose for me. But in Bangalore, a glass of cold water is enough to do
the damage to my throat. Through the narrow lanes, following the hand-written
signs we proceeded towards the fort. The houses were built one against the
other. They looked small and seemed deprived of the sunlight in most times of
the day. Presumably, these are the generations of the King’s priests and
soldiers. We entered the fort from its back gate. It had a slight inclination
and as entered the fort the slope became steeper. Only the early birds had
come. That’s one advantage we take in each of our visits – wake up early before
the crowd takes it over with their babble and jostling. Some musicians played
some sarangi, a commonly used musical instrument in this part of the world.
Some sang with them. Typical folklore.
The beating of the drums alongside echoed from the walls of the fort as the
morning rays of the sun started warming them again.
 |
| Mehrangarh Fort |
We went inside, explored the fort, the decorated rooms and
the artistic works on the ceiling. Its not easy to describe what we saw. Or
heard. Or felt. Or smelt. All the sense organs work like in an orchestra. You
don’t hear a single instrument. It is the beautiful blend of the music is what
you take in and take back home. So, at the fort it was not only about the fort,
it was also about the musical instruments and folklore, the jingle of the
bangle and sarees that women in Rajasthan wear, the sound of the flapping of
the wings of the pigeons and parrots, the sight of blue sky and flocks of birds
flying across, about the big-moustached men and their colourful turban, not to
forget the painting, armory and other galleries inside the fort, laid down in
the form of exhibitions that created the spectacle. And as we peeped here and
had stopped there, we soon realized that we were on the terrace. When we looked
down we could see the blue city, still not fully awake. Far off through the fog
we could see the structure of Umaid Bhavan palace, our next destination.
At the grand Umaid Bhavan
Umaid Bhavan was a palace. Majectic gardens, beautiful halls,
large courtyards…A part of the palace has been converted to a hotel. A night’s
stay would make a big hole in my pocket.
It was around 10:30 in the morning and getting hot. We had malai kulfi
and got into the car. By the time we left
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| The Umaid Bhavan |
The lunch from Udaipur to Jodhpur was not upto the mark. So,
this time I ensured that we have a good lunch. And it was. At the end of a
sprawling garden, was this restaurant. When we reached the temple town of
Oshiyan, it was already around four. Oshiyan temple is renowned for the work of
art on the walls and pillars. Quite like the Ranakpur temple. But here we had a
problem. We were seriously running short of time. The total temple visit would
easily take an hour, which meant we would miss the birds at Khinchan. So, the
options were clear now: either the works at the Osiyan temple or the birds at
Khichan. You cant go for both. Not religious by any yardstick and having seen
the Ranakpur Temple just the day before, we decided to skip the creation of
man, for the creation of God!
With the birds at the Khichan village
When we were few kilometres from the village we could already
see flocks of birds flying above. Another couple of kilometres and we could
hear their sound. We got excited. Are the birds flying off as it is almost
sunset? Will there be enough birds left for us to see? Or is the God upset that
we have skipped “Him” and decided to greet us on an empty field?
We took a narrow village road. The last stretch, especially,
was on a rough track. We crossed a ridge. And….there lay in front of us
thousands of birds. Literally, birds in thousands. The number of birds I saw
that evening was much more than the total number of birds I saw in my whole
life till then. There were some water bodies around and the migratory birds
swamped those areas. They were walking. Some were flying. They flew high; they
flew low. As low as just a couple of feet over my head. It took some time for
us to get to our senses. Never did we see so many birds around. Gudiya ran
behind a few and tip toed towards some. Hundreds took off all at once and
hundreds landed at the
was birds all over – the ground, near the waterbody, up above. The greyish migratory birds. Innocent looks. Playing on the water body or just walking around, through the hedges.
 |
| Birds at the Khichan Village |
These migratory birds baffle me. How do they travel
thousands of kilometers and fly to the exactly same place every year and how do
they return? I read somewhere that they navigate, keeping the sun as the point
of reference. But then, the sun also keeps shifting positions throughout the
day. Don’t we require a whole book of complex mathematical formulae to do this?
And yet, these small and beautiful creatures do so with the most careless ease.
These small things amaze me. Evolutionists and scientists keep finding logics
and explanations to reason these. And the grey matter between my ears may be
even convinced by them. And yet somewhere deep down, the heart says that there
is a greater power, without whom/which this would have been just not possible.
Towards Jaisalmer
When we started the return journey, it was already sundown.
“Another 170 km”, said Arjit…as he drove on the highway from
Jodhpur to Jaisalmer. And that was to Jaisalmer. Ours was 30 km on the outskirt
of Jaisalmer, amidst the Sam Dunes in the Thar Desert. So, that was a lot.
The railway track ran parallel to the road. Up above, it
seemed someone had thrown a dash of vermillion all over. The thorny dry lean
and thin plants stared at us from the fields on either sides. Both sides of the road had the shrubs and
cactus strewn. There was hardly any
greenery. It was
 |
| Vermillioned! |
Our accommodation was in one of the desert tents, Ratnawali
Camps. At night, when the road had no lights, it was easy to miss the small
arrow on the roadside that gave the direction to the camp. The cluster of
lights dazzling in the desert was the city of Jaisalmer.
“How much more?...its already past 9”, Debreena asked from
the back seat of the car.
“Another 30 km..may be an hour”, I said in a low voice. We
had started around 8 in the morning from Jodhpur, hiking up the Mehernagarh
Fort and still have not reached our destination.
Jaisalmer passed. I rang them.
“You will find the arrow on your right”, they informed when
we asked about the location.
“Any landmark?”
“None”
Understandable. A road runs through a desert. What landmark
can we expect there?
I asked Arjit to slow down the speed of the car. My eyes
hawked each and every signal in the dark. But I knew its unavoidable. A miss
can prove quite costly. We could be driving up and down the highway the whole
night.
“That’s the arrow”, I leaped from the front seat when I
found the small sign board with “Ratnwali Camps” and a red arrow below it. And
the arrow is pointing towards the darker barren lands on the right. Faintly we
could see 1-2 lights far off.
“Lets drive towards those lights”.
The car left the road. Now we were making our own roads
through the desert, keeping the light as our destination. It was pitch dark all
around, except for those lights. The car was swaying left and right. We didn’t
know whether a proper road existed at all to those camps. I was talking to the
managers of the camps over the phone. “Yes, we can see the headlights of your
car”, they said, much to our relief. After huffing and puffing, at last we
reached the camps. The yellow halogen lights flooded the camps, in contrast to
the pitch darkness outside. We were welcomed in the most traditional way. The
tent was a huge one and very comfortable too. We were informed to have dinner
first. We were already late. By the time we were done with the dinner, it was
almost mid night. It was cold. And I had a plan for the next morning, for which
I was already negotiating with the manager.
“Do you arrange camel rides to take me towards the sunrise
point?”
Wednesday, 30th December, 2015
Morning in Jaisalmer
I woke before the alarm clock screamed. Rubbed my eyes, put
on the warm clothes without making any sound, and crawled out of the tent. Arjit
drove me to the camel point. There a camel man was waiting for me with a camel.
Hopping onto a camel is never easy. You have to follow the rhythm of the camel
getting up, otherwise a nasty fall awaits you. So, you have to first lean
backwards when the camel starts with standing on its rear legs. Then as the
camel stands on its front foot, you have to lean forward. And then one last
time you lean backwards again, when the camel is ready to start. After about 20
minutes, I reached the Sam Sand Dunes, where the horizon is visible almost
uninterruptedly. And the sun rose again! For the umpteen time I was watching
the sun rise and getting awed by the sheer beauty and the magnificence of the
moment.
When I had returned to the camps, Debreena and Gudiya were
having breakfast. I had a quick bite too. Took a shower. And within an hour we were
driving towards the city of Jaisalmer. Our first stoppage was Patwan ki Haveli.
It’s the work of art that grabs your eyes. There are shops inside. There were
stalls selling T-shirts capturing the flavor of Rajasthan, some were selling
the Rajathani dolls, some peacock feathers…it was a hustling bustling market
place. We explored the interiors of the Haveli, studded with coloured glasses
and stones. And then we went to Sonar Kella, the Fort of Jaisalmer.
 |
| As the sun rises in the desert |
At last at Sonar Kella
Sonar Kella is a very popular detective movie in Bengali,
directed by the Oscar-winning late Satyajit Ray. Sonar Kella means the Golden
Fortress. I have seen the movie no less than 20 times since childhood. And I am
no exception! It was always my dream to visit the Sonar Kella or the Fort of
Jaisalmer. When I stood in front of that I was living my dream. It took me not less than 30 year to reach this place. It took me 30 years to turn a dream to reality. It’s a feeling
that is difficult to put into words. The Fort of Jaisalmer was a huge one. In
fact it had an entire township inside. Scooters honking and buzzing around,
however, was the difference of the Sonar Kella of my dreams and the reality.
The lunch was a hearty one. Typical Rajasthani spicy meat
with some assorted breads, overlooking the Sonar Kella. In the evening we went
to the Sam Sand Dunes.
 |
| Childhood dream - Sonar Kella |
Evening in the Sam Sand Dunes
The Sam Sand Dunes was buzzing with people all over. We took
the camel ride and then the camel cart. It was a grand mela at the Sand Dunes. Grandparents
came with their grandsons and grand-daughters. Lovers came, holding hands, to
watch the sunset. Kids came with their parents. There were lots of tourists, as
usual, both Indian and foreigners. And then there was brisk business – tea sellers,
camel ride ,balloons. Some local musicians performed on the dunes, surrounded
by people eager to take part in the local cultural milieu. Gudiya was busy
rolling over the sand and playing with it. Debreena was sitting quietly. I was
clicking pictures of the nature, of men, women and all that was around. The
sands turned golden with the setting sun. It was getting dark. It was getting
cold. We took a camel ride back to the camel point and from there Arjit took us
to the Ratnawali Camps.
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| Camel ride during Sunset |
Evening at the Ratnawali Camps
 |
| Cultural Program in the Evening |
When we reached the camps it was dark. We were welcomed in
the traditional way and found that the stage was all set for the cultural
evening. This is part of the package and is almost omni presence across all the
camps around this place. We soaked ourselves in the live dance and songs
performance. It was the local cultural display at her best. We were served hot
pakoras as we reclined on the make-shift sofas and enjoyed the program. Ladies
dancing with pots on their heads to the tunes of a host of
After dinner we took the night jeep safari. There was not
much activities in the safari. When the jeep stopped in the middle of nowhere in
the desert, it was pin drop silence. The moon shone beautifully above the
horizon; the stars shone brightly; the winds gushed through the mufflers.
Thursday, 31st December, 2015
Dune bashing and a Local Village
The next morning again we set out for the jeep safari before
the sunrise. The night before, Gudiya was feeling cold, especially as the jeep
was speeding through the desert. So, this time we took the sleeping bag too!
And it was quite comfortable. The desert looked refreshing in the morning. After
 |
| Dune Bashing |
 |
| A Local Village |
When they returned we decided to see a local village. So, he
took us to his village. Even in winter the village looked very dry. The driver
said that they face acute water problem almost all year round, especially
during summer. It’s a tough life out here. On the way back, we saw a huge
barren field with little bit shrubs around, a whole lot of sheep were grazing
whatever was left. A leafless tree stood in the middle. The sun was getting
warmer.
Once we returned to our camps, we knew it was packing time.
To pack our bags for the train in the evening. We thanked the camps manager for
their hospitality and arrangements.
A priceless collection
We still had some time before the train in the evening. So,
we did some shopping. I got a priceless piece of marine fossil in the desert.
The story goes like this:
The day before when we entered an emporium to buy souvenirs,
I caught sight of a piece of marine fossil. A year back at the Hikkim Village
in the remote Spiti Valley I had collected some marine fossils in the
Himalayas. This time I found the same in the deserts of Rajasthan. Those fossil
rocks were black in colour. This one is yellow in colour, with a gorgous
impression a snail on it.
“I want that”, I said to the shopkeeper.
“But this is not for sale. Its just a sample rock that we
show to the customers. With this rock we make this glass”, he said, picking up
a yellow coloured glass. In fact, it was one such glass that provided the ultimate
clue to solve the mystery to the detective in the movie “Sonar Kella”!
The above conversation took place on Day 1.
Day 2 I returned to the shop.
The shop keeper asked me “What do you want, Sir?”
And I insisted on the same thing. This time he agreed. I did
not know whether he understood the importance of the rock or its value. He
offered me at a quite affordable price. It was not just a rock, but a marine
fossil in the deserts, which got created millions of years ago when the
tectonic plates collided. Today that piece of witness, frozen in time, is
neatly kept in my drawing room.
The Haunted Kuladhara Village
The haunted Kuladhara Village was our next stop. A village
deserted by its people some hundreds of years back. There are some mythological
stories about how the villagers left the village to save their honour. Now all
that remains are the rubbles, the half destroyed houses, the empty kitchens and
the half-eaten staircases. You go to the terrace and see a whole cluster of
houses abandoned. Actually, it looks more of a Bollywood movie set. Things are
scattered and yet they are not messy. You don’t find any locals here, except
the drivers and some boys who call themselves guides. There was no village
around too. It is believed that the spirits don’t allow people to stay in the
village even today. Those
 |
| The haunted Kuladhara Village |
Our next and last visit was the place where we saw fossilled
plants. Now that’s something new and interesting. We talk of fossil animals…here
we saw fossil plants.
Friday, 1st January, 2016
The Kababs at Karim’s
The overnight train took us to Delhi, from where the flight
would take us to Kolkata. I had kept sufficient buffer time in Delhi, in case
the fog delays the train. The train was on time. This meant we had sufficient
time to hang around in Delhi and have lunch at the famous Karim’s. A restaurant
in a narrow galli (street) behind Jama Masjid. If you don’t know where it is,
you might never find it. But once you find it, you would never forget it! It
serves the most delicious kababs and mutton curries!
Our flight landed at Kolkata Airport around midnight.
Landing in Kolkata I realised that not an iota of change has come about. Professionalism
is definitely not one of the things the lazy city can ever boast of. Great food
- yes. Kid-hearted people - yes. Addas and gossips – a big yes. But professionalism?
The lesser you the better it is. For the last 7 days, I have been calling the
driver to pick us up from the airport. When I landed and called him, he
informed me that he was unable to come to pick me up from the airport. From Kolkata
I went to Chandannagore.
Chandannagore – the nest from where I started dreaming
Chandannagore. Once upon a time it was the world for me. Today she no
longer appeals to me. Gossips with Ria (cousin sister) and other relatives and meeting
my nephew for the first time, chatting with Sandipan, my childhood friend, on
the Strand road had their own share of fun and enjoyment. And then trying the
local chats and the lip-smacking delicacies from the not-so-sophisticated
restaurants were , no doubt, memorable.And that was all that I could do while I was there for about 36 hours in total. I flew back to Bangalore the following
day.
While in Chandannagore I realized that, to me, the town is more of reminiscence than exploring something new. Its about going to Strand and saying “We used to pass by this place every day while coming to school”. Chandannagore was about looking at the garden in front of our house and thinking about the daliah and marigold and rose that once filled the places, thanks to my father and grandfather.
This trip to Rajasthan will remain special for many things, especially for the "Sonar Kella" when my childhood dream was was a reality. And it this place, Chandannagore, from where I started dreaming since my childhood days. I
dreamt from my study room and classroom, looking outside at the vast sky, the
gliding birds and the floating clouds. I don’t remember what all I dreamt.
Perhaps about the bigger world outside. What I remember, however, is all the
while my books remained open. And
parents and teachers thought I was being “inattentive” and how “boys of that
age have problems in focusing in studies”.
After all, childhood is when you dream. And those dreams
have no barriers. I still remember the goose bumps I had when I was at the
famed 221 B Baker Street in London, the official residence of Sherlock Holmes,
my childhood hero. And then the Sonar Kella in Jaisalmer. A dream turned to
reality after almost 30 years. We keep dreaming and then strive to bring those
dreams to reality. And then another dream. A bigger one. And then another even
bigger. But they all started with those small dreams dreamt inside the small
nests. And once you feel the winds under your wings you leave the nest for the
world that is beckoning you. Its not a crime to fly. Its not a crime to reach out
for the vast world that lay beyond the nest and the rows of trees that cradles
many such nests.
So, when I see Gudiya looking outside the window, watching
birds and clouds, while the book is open in front of her, I don’t disturb her.
When she watches the rain and cant hear my call, I don’t call her twice. I know
she is dreaming. I know she is weaving a world inside her. That world which she
doesn’t find in her books. That Alice’s
wonderland which she doesn’t see around her. Let her find the joy in dreaming.
Let her dream about the world that’s beyond the nest we have built as a family.
After all, as the great Khalil Gibran goes on to say:
“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for
itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
But seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
As living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
And He bends you with His might
That His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
So He loves also the bow that is stable.”
