Chandra Taal - Where Man meets the Gods

This is the image of the lake Chrandrataal, where apparently Yudhisthira left his mortal body and moved to heaven. Did I ever imagine, that a reluctant traveler would leave his perch in the Deccan Plateau and leap for the mighty Himalayas? That would make a great story but for now, I was there and I, an almost comatose photographer clicked the image.

Did I think I would make it ever, to leave the zone of my comfort and move towards the unknown. I who turn my back even to the known? I cannot answer but to say that I was there and that is what matters.

More will come, but for today a reminder to myself that surprises do lurk around the corner and they need not always be bad.

Conversations

It’s just one of those times that you feel that everything you write is not what you want to write. I want to scream and shout to the world about the one great conversation had today with Mi, I want to tell everyone I know about how I did nothing more than to complain, whine and gossip. I want to share with all those I know that though I didn’t win anything, though it didn’t really lead anywhere or solve anything, it filled me with so much joy and contentment. I want to smile stupidly because I think that though no great things were done, I can get through the rest of the day basking in the sunlight of one talk.

I have always believed that being at peace with yourself is the greatest thing in world. I’m neither clever not clicky, nor confident or charming and the maximum I wish at most times is t be content. Was all that possible in the course of 17 minutes? yes, all that and more. How do you put into worlds the immense satisfaction you feel when you say exactly what you want to say and it’s received exactly how it’s supposed to be. How do you articulate that feeling that you can crib, cry or criticize with someone who knows exactly what you are trying to say. That perfect understanding which shelters you and saves you from judgment. No conflicts resolved, no angst repaired, no doubts removed, no depression lifted but still I feel like I’m on the top on the world.  I still am and will be there for some time to come.

Bits and Pieces

Of late, the bug of re-reading has really hit me hard. From books I have re-read over a period of time like says The last of Dusk or The Clear Light of Day to ones I have read only once like Midnight’s Children and Lunatic in my Head, I am rediscovering the joy of books I have once read and its simply fabulous to do it again. The forgotten phrases, those hazy plots and the crazy characters, all seem to come back and it really makes me glad that I’m doing something I wanted to do for a long time.

A visit to the Srikalahasthi Temple near Tirupati nearly made me weep recently. It is truly one of the most majestic temples in India, with huge pillars, intricate carvings and stones which are centuries old. Half of the temple has been shoddily white washed, with really bizarre temporary constructions and wires hanging on arbitrarily. Our immense talent in reducing a centuries old marvel to a shoddy joke really has no competition. This is the same temple which once used to make me wonder about the strength of men, to build something like this when you had no modern tools and then again to destroy something so beautiful when you have every conceivable modern aid.

I am hooked to Everybody likes Raymond, I don’t like half of it but am watching episode after episode, guess when the sitcom bite bites, it bites hard!

A night which never ends

12.32 am

Rekha Bharadwaj playing in the background.

Tossing and turning, awake and distrustful.
I finally throw off the covers and think what I can do now.
All the books I can read are not with me right now.
I have given up on television so long ago.

I think of cleaning my room but am not annoyed enough.
Get a bar of Toblerone, move quickly to my third one.
Thinking of browsing the net, but what more news will satisfy my curiosity?
So give up on yet another idea, another fleeting thought.

Want to call someone, but have exhausted everyone.
Open the window and the breeze comes in, cheering me up.
My only companion, which wafts in and out carefully.
I think I will trap it somehow but never act on it, like countless others.

12. 40 am

Jagjit Singh takes over

He fills the room with his pain and pathos.
He becomes a part of me and its my voice in the room suddenly.
I realize that we are both alone.
He, running away from grief, I running towards it.

Suddenly I realize that the kind wind is still around.
Engulfing and enlivening everything around.
Suddenly everything seems not so bleak..
I believe that this too shall pass.

I slowly return to where I rose from.
Thinking that one day everything shall come together.
I will assuage the losses and make good all that was not mine.
The kind breeze. A lilting song. A silent hope.

One day, all will be fine.

Mangalagiri- A mélange of colors

Offering something for everyone, Mangalagiri near Vijayawada has numerous charms in its folds. Rediscover the many charms of a village famous for its saris and temples…

At a distance of 18 kms from Vijayawada, Mangalagiri a place as famous for its temples as for the colorful bouquet of weaves it produces. Time spent in this sleepy village simply flies by, with its quaint streets, friendly villagers and numerous stores selling the famous Mangalari saris. You can visit the temple for a quick darshan, shop at the many stores, simply soak in the clean village air and walk around the countryside and farms.

Things to do in Mangalagiri

-          Panakala Narasimhaswamy temple perched atop the Mangalagiri hills was built in 1650 AD by Raja Vasireddy Venkadri Naidu, the ruler of the town. A splendid gate leads you to the main temple and the entrance is flanked a gigantic chariot or ratham.

Upon inquiry regarding the origins of the name of the temple an interesting story was told to us. The temple got its name from panakam (water mixed with jaggery) served as an offering to the deity. The region was prone to volcanic eruptions in the past due to the abundance of sulphur found in the region. The eruptions were attributed as the angry outbursts of Lord Narasimhaswamy and panakam was poured into the idol’s mouth to placate him. Till date every visitor offers jaggery water to the deity. The temple closes by 4 in the afternoon. 

-          Lakshmi Narasimhaswamy temple is located at the bottom of the hill and is the first thing you notice the minute you drive into the town with its arresting gopuram which towers over the town. Built in the 16^th century by Krishnadevaraya, the temple is beautiful and the intricate carvings on the gopuram speak volumes about the quality of artisans in the past. Walking around the temple transports you to the past with its fallen pillars, stone walls and vast spaces exuding heritage from every corner. 

-          Shopping for handlooms is a major draw. The temple town offers some of the finest cotton saris and fabric to the country and the town is full of stores where you can shop to your heart’s content. For those interested in knowing how the saris are made, a visit to the weavers loom is a must, the weavers are friendly and share interesting anecdotes. It takes about two days to complete a sari and the commonly seen motifs are mango, leaves, flowers and geometric designs. Fab India sources its fabric from here and the most arresting features of Mangalagiri fabric is its mélange of colors- reds, oranges, greens and yellow make the sari as vibrant as a rainbow. Bargaining is tough here as the storekeepers refuse to give in to any tactics employed by even the most seasoned shoppers.

.................................................................

Part of my first ever travel piece!

Doors

What secrets do you behold?
What lies behind the closed exteriors?

I think often of those soulful eyes sought to be mine
I think often of the recherche that ought to be mine

Restless and rancid,
Rancor runs amok

The purposeful silences and invidious glances
The if and buts of a promise never fulfilled

The beauty that lies within you
That which you seek never be known

Strong and Silent
Graceful and Gregarious

A withdrawn you and a withered me
Stare into oblivion fleeing all things glee

Will you not let me in
O my loved one

Yesterday

I was reading a couple of articles I had written early 2008, (one of which is the first ever pieces to be posted on this space) and was astounded by the irrelevant use of adjectives, the complete going overboard with the hyperbole and the lack of cohesiveness in writing. I was appalled by my own earlier writing. (Not that it’s any great now, but the quality has toned down considerably. In a 180 word  movie review I did of Revolutionary Road, I used 6 exclamation marks. 6!) On the same day I was talking to a colleague who wistfully remarked that life she was so happy in the past and now her life is a complete mess.

All of that really got me to wonder, were things really good in the past or does history always seem better because you don’t have to face it anymore? We've often heard of how simple things were in times gone by or how happy we once were, but was it really so? Isn't looking about the past and thinking how wonderful it was merely an exercise to divert attention from today and the odious everydayness it carries with it? Getting wistful about the past is alright but the sort of starry eyed-ness is nothing but escapism, an epiphany we have perfected over the years.

We look back at that which has happened only because it’s easier to deal with the past than the present, you can negotiate with it, believe that it happened your way and term it easy because you no longer have to face it or fight it. Past is important but present is sacrosanct. It is, because it allows you to shape your ideal of the future. While yesterday withholds you to ransom, today releases you with reason.

Today is a bright wonderful day. A day looming large with possibilities, enticing you with its exuberance and brimming over with the euphemisms. Allowing you to marauder alongside the margins, simmer in the silence of the known and covet the credulous innocence of the unknown.