Temporary refuge from reality

With an increase in the disposable income in an Indian pocket, Indians have been ardent and religious about venturing into the travel fashion and the parallel world of Instagram and other related mediums. Well, there are a lot of speculations made about this culture of travel, whether in India or abroad. Getting into the statistics one realizes how travel and tourism has led to a boom in the economy after 1990s.

A temporary refuge from reality- Not Always! There are times when I have visited the most distinguished places. Far away from the bookmarked pages of the Lonely Planet and they were infact no refuge from reality but a step ahead towards what is Real and non fictitious.

It was back in July, 2010 that I started looking for these frequent hideouts. Fresh out of the high school, I was attending the KM college at the Delhi university (which I later dropped out) that I scheduled for a trek in Himachal after meeting this local at Dharmkot. I wasn’t a professional trekker, neither had I met Kabir Bunny through Ayan Mukherjee.

July 2010, Dharmkot, Dharmshala

The famous Triund Trek back in 2010 used to be the one that was often done with the nomads, whom you met on your way to the pass. It was way more virgin and pristine.

I generated this comparison after trekking the same stretch twice in the last 8 years. That’s how a place metamorphoses, grows, evolves, remodels in the course of time.

Disseminating love, Primitive Tinder.
Love quotes and messages that were retained

This takes me back to restoration project I was working on in Rajasthan where an old fort was being converted into a resort. The fort had once been under the Tomars and then even Ain-i-Akbari quotes about it. Right before the fort was undertaken by an Indian hotelier, it had seen a different time and phase before restoration began. Love messages were all across the walls. What’s really interesting is that those messages and quotes to the beloved were not completely removed during the refurbishment of the fort. Those too had become a part of the building’s life.

With so many unplanned trips for leisure and work so far and beautifully curated itinerary right during the course of travel, I strongly believe that an unplanned travel leaves you with prodigious transition in your lifestyle, ideology towards the human civilization and undoubtedly a gamut of memories that are far more sacred and genuine than the Instagram posts that you often update to consistently inform the peer and folks linked to you on social media.

In my last post on this blog where I had mentioned about my stay in India’s Northern most village on the Indo Pak border, I ended up my post with an insight of how strongly  I believe that some stereotypes and practices need to be simply left unattended or probably ignored because the transition in any society or civilization takes almost generations to happen, and that change infact is also towards a new change. Additionally, this new change might end up being outdated and characterized as a stereotype by the generations that are to follow us. My sole intention in giving this last statement is to understand how we often miss the charm and elixir of our lives while struggling to achieve something which has all been planned. Yes I believe in Karma and deeds!

rain round the clock
clicked from the cottage room

In May 2018, I had traveled to the North east of India to the states of Meghalaya and Assam. In Assam, I managed to hit a conversation with this young lady from Bangalore who runs a cottage hotel in a small village which is known to be the World’s largest island in an active River.  Firstly, this river is Brahmaputra. Secondly, I will emphasise that it is massive and surreal at some locations. Its as giant as the sea and very hostile and treacherous at some points. Calmer the flow of the river, deepest it is at that very point.  So the young lady from Bangalore who lives in this village Majuli had a good vision of how this very Island had changed and is reducing in area because of the increasing water level of the mighty water body around.The village is approached by a lot of Travelers, Film makers, Designers and Craftsmen from across the world. Amidst this, I was enlightened about the people living in this part of the country and their claims, struggles, demands and attitude towards the rest of the country. It’s merely a stretch of 17 kms of land which is a bottleneck that separates north east to the major part of the Indian subcontinent. I was interested in this interaction especially because it was not a local talking positive about his/her land. It was a resident who had relocated to Assam a couple of years back and had some genuine vision of the people of this place.

Assamese platter, @ Nagaon

I am a vegetarian and didn’t find any constrain in feeding myself in Assam and Meghalaya.  I was informed that the only place in the north east where I might have to struggle for food would be Nagaland.  But I am certain that the Marwaris and Jains who have settled in the north east since generations, must have made some provision for me even in Nagaland. I am a liberal vegetarian and a menu that I saw at a local dhaba which mentioned about beef didn’t surprise me. The only saffron I found there was the saffron which was being sold by a few kashmiris in a flea market.  There are certain tribes that are against the Indian government  but that too is because they are being enforced to shun their identity, their civilization, their values in the realm of patriotism and nationalism for the Indian mainland.  It was for the first time I did find some logic in the reservations that the Indian government makes, while I was told about these tribes. Well unfortunately, these reservations are often being misused by people who undoubtedly fall in these categories but do not really need it. I always pester that it should be the first generation learner that is to be catered to but their resentment to the Indian government makes them reject any such reservations and stay in utter isolation. They eat dogs, monkeys and pigs in some areas in Nagaland. Interesting, thats what the food cycle is all about. I still wonder why do people talk about banning some dog eating festival when they just had chicken ham for lunch! Interestingly, they also eat bamboo.

Majuli was a short stay of my travel and towards the end of my stay in the north east after covering Johrat, Kaziranga, and Guwahati. Before the aforesaid areas of Assam, I had already covered  Meghalaya.  Shillong was the hub and the hotspot. Extremely lively and a different vibe it offers. The main market shuts at 10pm, but till the time the market is open it manages to hit the zenith of celebration, charisma, liberty and frolic. The local buses played guns and roses, the lady running the wine shop suggested me this local rice beer, there was live music all throughout the day in some or the other cafe that made the main market (Police bazaar) a place to visit and grasp the feel. 

Shillong is blessed to have such vivid places of interest in the vicinity that one can plan a single day escape to these places that are geographically and culturally very different to one another. Owing to the fact that it is that part of the Himalayan belt which is less explored, places like Mawlynnong, Nohkalikai, Dawki, Mawsmai hold a very different character , quite contrary to the Himalayas of the Northern India.

This is how locations are
 in a Manirantnam's film

Sunset by the Brahmaputra
Travel partner-Hero Roadster

Maylynnong holds the title of being the cleanest village in India. There you see the gush of tourist disembarking their respective cars hunts for the locally made wicker dustbins to contribute to this village. The Indian tourist and traveller who reaches here is often excited to dump the trash in the readily available bins therefore adding a feather to his cap.

Welcome to Mawsmai, Right from the geography lessons you hit the caves that are an escape to the stone age with live stalactites and stalagmites being formed over centuries.

At the local barber in Kaziranga.
discovering this new revolution
 in the country or maybe world, Undercut!

#postmyloveletter
@Majuli

 India once had three time zones. Bombay, Madras and Calcutta which I personally believe is precise for country like India. This is owing to the fact that while the DJ is rolling the last track of the extended night part in a weekend home at Sainik farms in Delhi, the following day has already begun in the North East and the cattle has reported marked its presence in the paddy field on the shores of Brahmaputra.
Additionally, there are also a few observations that cnnect this country on a very intangible front. The first being Indian post’s post offices with their red and yellow logo being spotted almost everywhere and the other being the State bank of India. I often find these two very apt. Almost an year back I started of capturing Indian post offices in whatever location I spotted them hashtaging them as #postmyloveletter 

In addition to the above two, a recent addition to this has been the Undercut, Thats no less than a revolution!

With an insight about the north east and  what differentiates the seven sisters, it was time I head back to Delhi. I had covered two of the seven but a fair good understanding of this region of the country and a triggered desire to plan for the Hornbill festival and the Zero festival in future. ;)

Back to the grind, back to the Mudra.

Turtuk

It was pitch dark and I was waiting for the last meal of the day at Shayok home stay's DIY gazeebo. LED bulbs at subsidized rates by the Government of India had reached this part of the country as informed by a local. The host was in the kitchen and the essence of the South Asian Spices could assure me that I was in the Indian Subcontinent.

Hiraeth brought me my Tea. No denying the fact that the number of the Thankyous we Indians say while we are traveling, if inculcated in our regular lives, this country will be a different experience to live in. While thanking Hiraeth for the tea, I expressed my curiosity if there was a third person in the kitchen who was disseminating the essence of the saute. It was his wife in the kitchen.

The bridge of the village across
Shayok River. 

Hiraeth was a Government school teacher and used to help his wife in the daily chores in the evening. He had studied English Literature at the Jamia University in Delhi. After having lived in the capital for almost 5 years he shifted back to his home and later got married. His wife who was now expecting their first baby needed more of his involvement in the home stay business. Not known to many travelers till the last decade, they stayed in the Northern most village on the Indian mainland. A few kilometers away is Pakistan. After serving the dinner the couple left for their home which was in the same lane a few properties away.

Pakistan is just a few kilometers away.
I have always been fascinated with Pakistan. after growing up in North India and after having met beautiful and interesting people from Delhi, Himachal, Punjab and of course my homeland Jammu and Kashmir, I have developed an understanding of what the partition of 1947 would  have costed the ones who suffered. Had there been no partition, I would have not been really interested to seek and insight into this country that we call as Pakistan. My grandfather worked in Pakistan before the partition. It was the nature of his job which made him travel extensively. So here I am assuming how the bus journey from Sialkot to Jammu would have been similar to a bus journey from Delhi to Chandigarh today.  But in the current time if I reciprocate the journey from Jammu to Sialkot, I am certain that we will be sighting green flags all around in our imagination. No surprises that most of the Indians would have not even heard of the town Sialkot (which is the manufacturer of maximum bagpipes in the world) in present day Pakistan. Interestingly, I came across an incident when a family member residing in Hyderabad (India) was asked to submit a copy of his Indian passport to parcel some goods from Hyderabad to Jammu. Well, the courier guy was then informed that Jammu is in India. Is ignorance really a bliss?

Conditioned as an Indian so far, I will not deny the fact that I was a little scared that night; dismayed. Maybe the over thinker in me got activated and made me believe that I might be questioned by anyone for not calling myself Siddhiqui. The next moment I woke up to the Aazaan from the nearby mosque and it was right before the dawn. The time when the only active members of any village would be the cattle. Leaving a message for the host next to the Holy Quran on my table I checked out of the accommodation.

Off to school in the valley.

There were no travel agents in the village to book me a ride to the closest town and further cnnecting me to Leh. There was one spot from where some limted cars passed. Waiting at that spot the same morning, I happened to hit an interesting conversation with a young man in his 40s . He pointed towards a peak and remarked it as Pakistan. Well, that close!

Paparazzi!

After the 1971 war between India and Pakistan, This village was one of the very few villages that were undertaken by the Indian Army.
My proximity to the neighboring country took me back to this funny incident when the dating application on my phone last year in Jammu was reaching out and detecting only Pakistani Women. so was I using Tinder across the border, internationally?

At the local taxi stand

The young man in his 40s shared his honest belief that how difficult was it to change from one nationality to another,"Our currencies changed, National Anthem, leaders,Army, All changed "
He informed me that this had lead to a major issue of Identity crisis in the village. Maybe that is the reason why the kids I had met last evening at the local polo ground of the village had their best cricket players comprising of players from both India and Pakistan, The first Indian player they quoted was Kohli after a bunch of their favorite Pakistan players topping their respective lists.

Khardungla was rough unlike this guy who drove me to Leh.

Almost half an hour of a sensible interaction with this man I got into a shared SUV. Sharing the ride with all the locals hailing from the same terrain and heading to Leh. All were students heading to college after spending a good time at home during Eid. On the front seat to me was a young girl clad in black burka. Zainab was a student of Science t the Undergraduate level in the government colllege at Leh.  Accompanied by her brother who was a doctor in Srinagar.

Passing through the barren valleys of the Karakoram range, I was introduced to the recent tracks of Coke Studio Pakistan- season 9. The only lady in the car was requesting when the track was to be changed and what track had to be played next.  3 hours post our start we were ascending towards Khardungla pass when I experienced my first live snowfall. Zainab turned around and asked if she was expected to shut the window, which I didn't want owing to the surreal experience. Khardungla was rough to us. Delayed by the snowfall we reacheD Leh at 10 in the night.


I did not exchange any numbers and e-mail ids with anyone I had met during this ride. I instead wanted to keep it sacred.

Turtuk made me meet some really sweet, honest, pure and safe people till now. (provided one follows some norms made by the Balti clan.)

Norms, Conditions, Requests, Rules, Ideology, Ideals or Hegemony.
Whatever you may want to call it!

https://youtu.be/GMxillp487w

A day in Diu; Isle of Calm

By now I had developed a fair understanding to decipher the widely spoken dialect of Gujarati in the Indian state of Gujarat. I had also owned a magnetic compass that I traded from an old merchant selling valuables from a ship which was dismantled in Alang back in the beginning of this century. Unpredictable as always, I had a day to spend in this part of India. I was too close to the coast that an overnight journey by road could offer me some valuable exposure to the island of Diu. And, the next moment I was seated in a Gujarat state roadways bus to Somnath via Diu. Next to me were two ladies from the Rabari clan. My portable phone charger was a bit astonishing to them!

3 AM, half asleep and I was woken up by an unbridled gush of the pungent smell of fish. I was passing Jafarabad. 'How about trying some sea food the following morning in Diu?'  but life is not just about writing travel blogs and gastronomic experiences that the vegetarian in me would have persuaded me to have sea food the next morning.

Amidst all you see the Indian flag.  but what does the saffron symbolize here? 

                                              

Soda bottle opener wala; for about two decades Diu was inhabited by Parsis. 
Considering the proximity to Gujarat,  Diu is a blessing  for alcoholics of Gujarat, tiny bars have opened up like grocery stores in any other Indian town.

Panikota, Diu

Fort Diu

For how many times will the cannonballs fly before they are forever banned? Fort Diu

Portuguese or the Mughals, Jaalis; connecting us since the inception.
Setting up of the local market

I think she was a Siddi in Diu.
 Ignorant about the camera.
 For the love for tea

No matter which part of this country, the color has to pop out on the roads.

This is Safar store from where I hired a bicycle . Pedaling across the Isle of Calm. An extremely humble  and a learned  man who runs this store since decades. Not many such cycle stores exist in Diu owing to the growing demand of Motor cycles. I doubt if I would have hired a bike even even if I had been carrying my Driving licence. Cycling for 12 miles after 12 years! A decision resulting to  mixed emotions.

Jalandhar  Beach

Nadia Caves
Travertine, No?

Reminiscence of festa de deu

Bicycle track around the island.

Church of our Lady of Remedes

Bus stand, Diu.

One of the bridges that connects Diu to the Indian mainland.

Reaching the town back at around 4PM, I returned the bicycle to Safar Stores and started back for Delhi. By the end of the day I had spent a brief but a good time with people carrying a lineage from Africa, Portugal, Israel. None of them were tourists, all Indians, settled here in DIU, Well connected to rest of the world, living in a calm on the Ilha de Calma.

Mosaic tiles through the golden mean

In one of my previous attempts on this blog I had compared the Fibonacci with the Paisley. Last week I was in Gujarat to review the work happening on one of the residential projects that I am handling on behalf of the Delhi based Architectural firm I work with, K2INDIA. It's a renovation project that we are doing where in we are expanding the first residential property designed by Ar.Charles Correa in India. A very interesting and amalgamated play of levels, heights and angles indeed! At one of the levels I was glued to what a woman was busy doing. A very evident contributor to the art of mosaic laying that was started in the age of Mesopotamian civilization, this young woman was collecting little pieces of tiles by breaking big solid pieces of tiles. What interests me is the pattern she was following while breaking. Did someone just brief her on the golden mean??? Don't forget to adore the baby in deep sleep while his mauma is busy contributing to this form of Art ;) 

Alang; a porthole onshore.

The permanent stains of oil and grease on my leather shoes is a souvenir I brought back from Alang. My frequent travel to Gujarat in the recent past enlightened me about Alang on the western coast of the Gulf of Khambat. Considered to be one of the world's largest shipyards, Alang recycles half of world's ships.

The swirl of the windmills while approaching the shore, the moisture laden winds and a drizzle followed by a strong sun was all that was essential to make this brief visit drenched in filth and dirt. Dirty in real sense, beautiful in a realistic sense. Apparently, Alang is one such evident example of business tourism in India where one encounters cargo ships, containers, passenger ships, cruises that approach this shore for their final breakdown bringing along people from Korea (of course South), Japan, Europe, South East Asia and locally from all parts of India.

I hence spotted lesser Gujratis in Gujarat. Loads of young men from Bihar and UP are here making this place sound very different to how Gujarat sounds. A sea shore for someone who comes from a landlocked area of India's National capital is typically a beach in Kerala or a shack in Goan waters but this was a third dimension. A shore with Ships of all sizes lined, fumes in the air of continuous welding and burning, moisture of the western coast and noise of course from all the dismantling happening around. One of the workers took me to this cargo which was a live example for me.

As a practicing spatial designer I couldn't stop myself from admiring the fact that the best possible way to see efficient space planning is to get into a ship. And if its a ship getting dismantled, its a blessing indeed! You not only visually observe a sectional elevation of this massive structure being chopped off in parts but you even practically experience it finding yourself standing at one of the levels.

Climbing to the third level from the deck using the technically called 'bulwark ladder', I found myself in some machine room which was not a room. Actually, I was inside the engine which was now half opened! Felt as an anti body inside the engine of an automobile. Like how they show in automobile engine oil animated graphic ads with the gear starts moving at a faster pace when poured the special engine oil.

Further up, there was this part which seemed to be a habitable part of a cargo ship. My attention was grabbed by this plant which was still alive in a ship, breaking of which had started 2 months back.

About the materials and stuff gathered from any ship, there is a different chapter to the story. There are merchants who deal in specific stuff and leftover. So you have one trader who deals only in reclaimed wood and you end up getting good quality wood that has survived at least 20 years in the global ocean waters and then you have series of shops selling machinery that is further purchased by mechanics, industrial design students and small scale industries. From toilet paper to computers, electricals to old paintings, anchors to bunk beds, life jackets to Jack Daniel glass ware. You get everything here for your next startup!

And heres a mere flowchart of how transportation and businesses happen that I had learnt in school books.

This visit was one of those unplanned ones that strengthen my ideology that travel can never be planned. The perception of travel in this age of DSLRs has to be instant. Any location can be beautiful, charming and picturesque. With a time restriction, it was time for me to head North and catch the last flight of the day to Delhi. Taking back home not just the oil stains and soiled denims from Alang, I did managed to trade an age old compass from one of the shops selling antiques which I don't think I am ever going to use pertaining to my 'rolling Stone, no direction home ideology'