More Indian Than I Thought

My first international trip happened a couple decades back. I was fresh out of college, a novice teen with big dreams and a lot of curiosity to see 'The World' - A world that was defined by the many books I had read all through my growing years and of course the many English movies. Though thrilled at the prospect of finally being able to explore and experience the pages of those books and movies in real, stepping out of a sheltered life into a big wide world of the unknown presented some apprehensions.

My parents had come to see me off at the airport. The hardest part was bidding farewell to a crying mother. After a long hug and promises to write long detailed letters, I headed towards the journey forward. When the announcement for the boarding knocked into my ears, the feeling finally sunk in, I was 'REALLY' leaving. Leaving the country I knew so well. Leaving my home. Leaving my people. Leaving my family. Leaving my friends. Leaving everything that I loved and cared for.

With moistened eyes, I walked solemnly towards the aircraft, trying hard to control my lachrymal glands, trickling tears anyway, against my wishes :((

At the entrance gate, an Italian flight attendant smiled and welcomed me with a warm "Namaste".  I reverted with a namaste.

Having noticed my sad face, she asked, “Going out for the first time?”

I nodded silently. I wasn’t in a mood to converse.

She said, “Don’t worry! You won't be too far from home." In her broken Hindi, she continued “Gar idar bi hai.” (There’s a home here as well)

Instantly my face brightened. I laughed.

“You know Hindi”

“ Mai koshish kar rahi hai" (I am trying)

“Bohut Achcha (very good) That’s so very sweet of you”

I already felt comfortable. Perhaps the world outside won’t be as scary as I imagined it could be.  Maybe I can find a home there as well.

The air hostess asked me, “So, you live in Bombay?” (since I had boarded from Bombay)

I replied, “ No, I am coming from Delhi”

“Ah!!! You are traveling to Milan?”

“ No!! to the US for higher studies. Milan is a transit"

“ So you got your Visa from the Delhi consulate?”

“Actually No, I went to the Chennai consulate to get my visa stamped”

“Were you studying in Chennai?”

“No, I studied in Hyderabad”

“Oh, so you got your passport work done from Hyderabad”

“No,  I got my passport made from Bhopal”

“Oh!!! Is that where you are from?”

“No, my father works in MP, I am a Bengali”

“Oh! So I guess you were born in Kolkata”

“No, I was born in Assam”

“My dear you are more Indian than I thought"

A Short Tryst With The Mountains

Where Journeys end, stories begin

During a trek to a remote, mystic monastery, I stopped over for a month at a tiny village in Zanskar Valley. The hamlet, felt like the last point on earth, beyond which lay miles and miles of barren mountains - majestic, immovable, invincible yet ever changing! Once in a while random adventure seekers trekked across them, enduring all the adversities, of a rough terrain inhabited by snow leopards, for that ineffable, glorious feeling of having triumphed over the untamed.  Aware of my limitations, I contended myself by capturing the breathtaking experience in my camera.

Some days, the mountains were cloaked behind layers of cottony clouds waiting to reveal well-kept secrets. Some days, the peaks glistened with fresh dust of snow while romancing the sunrays kissing them. Some days, they looked dry, barren and lifeless as if in mourning. Yet other days, they looked like a surreal painting on a bright blue canvas.  The mountain-scape kept changing, mysterious, intimidating to sublime and alluring.

The mountains spoke a story of change.  Change, they say is inevitable but not everlasting. It brings with it the apprehension of letting go the known yet it gives the thrill of discovering the unknown.

Alice In Ladakh

“While nature can mystify, architecture can stir the soul”

A few years back, in my process to heal after a certain personal setback, I had decided to hit the road for a solo soul search. The lone trail led me to the mystical ‘land of passes’. What began as a sudden whim, eventually, turned into a magical journey of amazing discoveries.

Some wise soul had once said, “you don’t need magic to disappear; all you need is a destination”. Ladakh is one such thaumaturgic destination.

Traveling and healing are connected in a weird way. Traveling may not be a panacea but it does bring positive changes in perspectives. A place as beautiful as Ladakh, with its many untouched, unexplored, ethereal, exotic locales, possesses the magical charm to heal and rejuvenate.  Its natural beauty is beyond comprehension; almost a painting on a life-size canvas and as amazing is its architectural splendor.

Being an architect, monasteries and particularly their architecture, caught my attention.  Whether it was the secluded, spiritual cave temples of Zanskar or the colorful, vibrant gompas of Indus or the tall statues of Nubra, Ladakh revealed a rich treasure trove of art and architecture. The breathtaking clay and wooden edifices ensconced amidst the rugged Himalayan terrains and gorgeous, clear azure sky presented a surreal spectacle hard to find anywhere else on earth (and I literally mean it).

….

“There is a place. Like no place on Earth. A land full of wonder, mystery, and danger!” said the maddest Hatter

“That is impossible” Alice replied flaunting her 7 and a half-year-old attitude.

“Only if you believe it is! Every adventure requires a first step” snubbed back the hatter.

…..

If I am Alice, Ladakh is my wonderland. Fairy tales do come true - Where Journeys end, stories begin.

From Right Under Our Nose!!

Valley of Flowers in Tawang

Location: A hotel in Tawang.

Early morning at 5:00 a.m., someone knocked at our door. The knock got louder and louder to finally knock me out of my deep slumber. Assuming it was the tour driver for a wake-up call,  I dragged my sheepy 'zzzzzzz' legs to the door hardly noticing it wasn't bolted. Much too drowsy to even realize the 'unusual', I opened the door to find two quizzical faces staring at me. One of them I recognized as the hotel owner and the other a complete stranger.

"Yes?"I asked, trying hard to open my eyes.

"Is that your bag?" said the guy pointing at a few things near the staircase.

I glanced in the said direction. There was my bag, my camera, my friend's bag, my friend's camera, and her phone. Hmm! Where is my phone? I wondered!! Oh! yes! it's safe under my pillow - answers why, it didn't quite make its way up there.

"Yes, those are our things, but why are they outside our room?" I asked the obviously silly question, still trying to figure out if it was real or some weird dream. Flummoxed, I pinched myself - Ouch!!! It's definitely happening. Reality had started to dawn, gradually!!

SHOCK eventually replaced SLEEP!! Seriously? Did this actually happen!! I vividly remembered, switching off the idiot box around 3ish, and checking the door bolt before hitting the sack. How and when did someone enter our room! ?? This was unbelievably absurd!!

The commotion had woken my friend as well. Confused and shaken, she scanned through the stuff frantically!! "Kay all the money is gone!!!" I keep money in parts, in all possible pockets of my bags including the camera pouch when traveling. The thief had ransacked our bags thoroughly to not leave a single penny! He was clever enough to not take the mobile phones and our cameras. My camera is pretty outdated and antique for anyone's taste but my friend's was a pricey brand new slr !!! Some nerve he had to escape that temptation!!!. Hmmm!! An educated thief knows where to draw the line!! He was probably, somewhere very close, hence, chose to loot only the cash, intelligently ignoring anything that could get him caught easily.

The scary part was, the thief had opened our door, entered our room somewhere around 4am and taken all our stuff out and we heard nothing!!!! Instincts suggested it had to be a hotel staff. Most likely, our dinner was drugged which had us sleeping so soundly. Most disconcerting was the thought that worse could have actually happened!!!

We lodged an FIR at a local police station but to no great benefit. The officer in charge and his aide did a routine investigation quite nonchalantly and left us a note that if they come across any clues, we will be informed. Of course, that never quite transpired.

Disheartened, we decided to leave Tawang the next day. As the day moved on and the sun suddenly showed up all bright and warm after two days of non-stop cold rains, we reluctantly changed our minds. We had made it this far after a very rough journey, bad roads, two big landslides, an annoying travel mate, and 18 hours of continuous downpour.  Going back without exploring the place would be such a shame. Bad experiences happen but that shouldn't make us change our course. With that thought, we urged ourselves to the lakes early next morning. It was a decision well made! The enchanting beauty of the valley of flowers totally wooed us.

Shungetsar Lake

Arunachal is definitely a not-to-miss destination but it's wise to be cautious. Locals mentioned such things were not very uncommon. Hmmm!!

Disclaimer: We do not want to discourage anyone from visiting Arunachal. Just a forewarning for fellow travelers to be aware and alert!  We were robbed in Miami and Rome as well :P Happens everywhere !!!

La Citta D'amore - Venezia

The Closure  - A Short Story

“Hey, so you went to Venice? Found these photographs in the old album."
           "Hmm"
"When?”

Not sure. Long back.”

“Interesting!! Did you know.......”

“ Know! What ?”

“Ummm!! Never mind.....just silly!”

“Hmm! I'm going out with my team now. Should be back in a few hours. Be prepared with a good story!”

“In your dreams, Sir :P !! I have an exam in a week. Ciao”

“Fine see you in a week then.”

“Hey, am not studying 24/7 for a week! Sean!! You there? Sean??? Sean? Why are you so difficult sometimes -?”

Sean never returned. His photographs adorn her room. The many beautiful moments that she still lives for. Her friendly young neighbors surprised her with a 90th birthday cake that morning. Birthdays, that she had stopped counting after that fateful day that took away an irreplaceable part of her.

In her quivering voice, she said, ‘I didn’t tell him that day. He would've laughed like he always did when he found me childish." She turned towards the photograph of a fairly handsome guy perhaps in his late 20s, with deep-set eyes, squarish face, crew-cut hair, and tanned complexion, "You were standing in front of St. Mark’s statue, waving at the camera with that silly grin of yours. Your shy smile imprinted in my heart forever. "..And...did you know..." her voice trailed, "..... that girl in polka dots looking at you? Millions of tourists click the same photograph at that same spot. Would you feel the same oneness with every single person in those millions? Perhaps not. I couldn’t tell you that day. I was scared! Not of you but of me! I was scared of the feeling and I was scared to reveal it." 

She coughed as her frail body, now all bones, trembled. The veins showed through the thin light skin. With her shaky hands, she lifted a photo frame kept on the side table. There were two photographs. One had the same young man and the other a pretty bubbly girl waving at the photographer much the same way. The girl in the polka dot! a stark familiarity one couldn't ignore. 65 years hadn't changed those deep blue dreamy eyes. " I love Venice. I loved it, the moment I stepped out of the train, walked out of the station, and saw the water sparkling in the sun. Unbeknownst to you, that’s where I had seen you for the first time. I have a photograph at St. Mark's waving at the world and at you... Had you noticed me?’

She was about to keep the frames back when it slipped from her hand and crashed into pieces. She carefully picked the photographs, noticing a scribble she had failed to see before. Her weak eyes could barely read a word. She hobbled back to the desk for the magnifying glass.

'You were lovely in the pink polka dots, Rosa. It took me four years to find the blue-eyed gal I had waved at in Venice. Happy Birthday!'  Sean

"..And it took me 65 years to find that you knew it all the while." A drop of tear sealed the closure.

 

On our last night in Venice, standing alone on Rialto Bridge, I looked around. I saw a guitarist strumming an old classic, a young girl selling flowers, and groups of young students (I assumed) partying on a ferry passing by. A very old couple climbed up the stairs towards me. They may have shared decades of togetherness! My hopelessly romantic mind immediately spun stories. It was all around them, in their smiles, in their eyes, in their holding of hands, in their slow quiet saunter - there seemed to be no hurry, no time fleeting away, it was their night together and forever. He bought a flower from the cherub flower girl perhaps 9 and gave it to his grace. I was smitten by the two and the idea of a 'happily ever after'.

Still musing on, I chanced to observe a couple (engaged or newlywed I presumed), enjoying a romantic candlelight dinner in a canal-side restaurant. He was trying his best to please her. It was sweet and funny. It may have been an arranged one perhaps! the storyteller in me wondered. The rolly polly cute bride was all shy and blushing and the really thin groom was trying every "gentleman-should do" stuff; pulling the chair for her, getting her a glass of wine, giving her a rose, and even clicking photographs of her every move! Sweet, he will gift her a collage this Valentine's Day, the yarn kept spinning.

I guess you might find the same scenes in many other places. Perhaps it was just the moment. Those people around, the beautiful music, the night, the light shining on the water, the stillness yet the crowd, the quietness yet the sound. I also fell in love with Ms. Rosa! For a very brief moment, I missed the company of someone but then the whole ambiance of the place just stole away that feeling...! 

If someone were to ask me "Which is the most romantic place on earth? My answer would have been Venezia - "La Citta D'amore. It can take your breath away."

It’s not like the utopian Swiss paradise or the exotic Caribbean getaway but has a charm unique in itself. Mysterious, alluring, ethereal, a city unlike any other! Venice is like a big live theater and every moving body is an actor. History, mystery, art, and architecture fascinate me and this city has all the necessary flavors, the byzantine edifices, the dark narrow alleys, the masquerade masks, the grand bridges, the winding canals, the traditional gondolas, and romantic Italian music.

Surreal romanticism was built into a tangible form. Well, that’s the closest I can define Venice as. To some, it may seem an irrational exaggeration but I guess, sometimes you come to like something unreasonably over others because something about it makes you feel connected.  

We had taken the train to Venice from Milan, a beautiful journey through gorgeous Italian valleys transiting to the coast. It poured cats and dogs for the two days we spent in Venice with intermittent sunny breaks once in a while ( fortunately!!! ) for the craved photo sessions :)

It's very very easy to get lost in this maze of a city. There are just too many narrow alleys all looking much the same :) Interestingly enough, we couldn't even find our hotel for a very long time. I had a huge bag and carrying it around was quite a task for my small frame. The trolley wouldn't work with the hundreds of steps and bridges (539 bridges to be precise) and yes it's definitely not the place for stilettos. It was a painful mistake, I had made, even after being warned by my well-wishing friends.

Two days are not sufficient for this fascinating place. We had to rush through the fantabulous assortment of basilicas, churches, and synagogues, a total shame :(. I hope to revisit someday at leisure to savor this artistic treat to the last morsel. Like every popular tourist destination, there are shops all over. The Venetian specialty is the Murano glass jewelry and the theater masks. Bargaining certainly works. 

The Legend

Legend has it that if you seek eternal love, a couple must kiss under every single bridge in Venice and under the bridge of Sighs at sunset. The bridge of Sighs or Ponte de Sospiri was built by Antonio Contini in the 17th century. It gets its name from a local story. The bridge connects the inquisitor's room, a part of the Doge's palace, and a prison. The prisoners saw the last of the world at the bridge and sighed before getting executed hence the name! Well supposedly it's more a legend than a fact since by the time the bridge was completed, executions and inquisitions were a history. Some say the bridge got its name after Byron used its reference in his poetic narration 'The Childe Harolds pilgrimage'. 

I  stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand: I saw from out the waves her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand: A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles Where Venice sate in her state, thron'd on her hundred isles!'

Samuel Rogers had said of Venice 'There is a glorious city in the sea' and truly it is so!