All posts tagged: Walking around India

Almost Empty

Dawn 2 New Delhi Is it true that good days pass fast or even boring days sprint by too? And what about the rainy ones if it is only raining all day ? When the weeping of the clouds has taken the better out of you, amongst the buildings that only deal with touching the clouds. Like the society in front of mine is “Cloud 9”. And mine is “Angel Mercury”. And they are serious people! What would a boring day look like in the life of a modern Yogi? Too much comfort? Availability of Gadgets! No one talks of electricity anymore! Yog is an art and yoga is the union. Let me write fast because I have eaten rather lazily by the end of tonight when I had thought of skipping it. Ma cooked something irresistible. And when one is rarely at home, smells such a delicacy from the god’s hand herself. I would rather not eat for whole tomorrow than now. Tomorrow is the weekly fast day. This fast, though I have been …

Dawn: One

Dawn 1 New Delhi Dawn is comes every day. As outside like inside, mostly by the time it is ending. That feeling of a day gone. And all the imagination of doing and doing more rests. Inspiration is something one has to seek every where each moment. But it is as true that inspiration will come but it should find you working. I discovered Seth’s blog and heard him the other day. I am liking people who are wearing and predicting future with stats. I would like you to go and hear some of his talks if you still haven’t heard him. Rasool’s edit is done and I have sent it for approval. By noon tomorrow it should be approved and I hope to publish and make it live for the world night short of Indian Independence Day. I hope I can help Rasool. I have no idea if I fail to collect any amount, I do not think Rasool will see any day after  100th day. He is down with all kinds of chronic …

Riding to the Rajasthan Borders

Jaisalmer to Tanot : Longewala : Pabu ki dhani – After reaching back to Jaisalmer from Khuri i decided to travel to Longewala- a border village and visit Tanot temple. It was 120 kilometres from the city and buses would only go to Ramgarh-half way. So i rented a Suzuki bike and rode for 3 days around border villages. The road to Tanot temple was like riding a snake, and that snake is slithering across the horizon of Sand and Sky that too at night. It was late when i reached .Around 9. I went to the only hotel-dharamsala and found no body there. It was open. And it was empty. Unbolted doors were beating heavily. The wind was making an impression. And over all no body seemed to have any interest either in the temple or in the popular last army post. I seemed to be the only one- once excited visitor to have come to this ghost-not-even-a-town. I sat outside that hotel on earth near my bike, waiting for someone to happen. I …

In Omni to Hanley

When young, drive Omni. To zojila, to Leh, to Hanle, to tso moreri, to i don’t know what pass that came after hundred’s of horses ran to take left, we took towards sky- a concrete river bed on top of a conical mountain which went all afternoon. Many called it a road. Through a broken bridge, through the ditches connecting another ditch on the Yoga day. While laughing at others. While laughing atourselves. While stopping before every loop to the mountain up. The dancing carrier. The nostalgia of the petrol fumes over six days. As every bicycle left us behind. Our omni made it across the Rohtang. But always carry two people to push it through. We needed many only once. On the road with Omni | July 15.

Jaimaal

In her wedding dress that one day she stopped counting years, my favourite grandmother – I met J uncle on a rainy very cold january morning this year, near an empty swimming pool. His room – 705, is just beneath my room – 805, where i am writing this. J uncle had his own quiet world till he met my sister. My sister, she is a kathak dancer(banaras gharana). J uncle would not know about it for a month till one day they meet in the elevator, she moved and her ghungroo rolled from her bag. J uncle and his lovely wife had come from Banaras. In a quest to live with their son, they sold their house. They used to sing all morning there, he told me. He disliked it here. Everything. But he never spoke about it. He was just visibly sad. In his walk, thats how mostly i saw of him. A singer coming from a gharana who doesn’t sing anymore. In the meantime J uncle grew fond of my sister and …

Song of the playground

Photograph of the lost memory in flaring heat of Jaisalmer It is hot in Barmer. My right cheek has swelled. Ulcers recognized heat. I am staying with amma here, a Bhopa. Last night we decided to attend Pabu ki phad. Happens rarely now. A local god. Reincarnation of Laksman. Bhopas sing and dance for Pabu. For two nights Bhopas from all across the region had come to sing and dance reciting Pabu’s story. Anada Ram was the most prolific Ravanhatta musician. He died 33 years ago. His wife, Amma never sang after that. I am here to document her son. He never learnt Ravanhatta. He wanted to be a dancer. I have known him for eight months now. There were many other dancers from the community yesterday. Veer was going to show me one of his acts dancing on the mirror glass with fire in his mouth. He does not dance in the community. He is ashamed. I was awed last night. So were six hundred people. He got cut but still kept dancing. His …