This times even though I wasn’t very excited somehow because of Work and also the pressure of going back to college and studies, I did take out a day to visit Jageshwar. Yet as I moved, I was stopped by the remarkable Lakhudiyar Caves and later my intuition took me towards a temple I did not even know existed yet it became the highlight of my travels this and I enjoyed it thoroughly.
As Writers our responsibility has evolved multifold in last one decade and all the more after Covid. World seems to be on the move even as we speak and Read. We are more busier than Ants and somehow it always feels today that ‘Life is Elsewhere’, at least for a major some. But if you ask me, Life is within and we are the creators of it. It might be hard and grinding but a lot of Grit and little discipline can see us engrossed in the most beautiful ways where time feels like an illusion. Writing comes to me as water to Well, in ancient times at least but today, less people seems to be happy with just water. Reading is giving way to watching. And watching is the new eating. We are eating with our eyes and we want even more. But I do not wish and never desired to start something which felt like a commission either a necessity. Like writing here on the ‘Road To Nara’ Blog has become nature and …
I left Delhi again. And you know, every time I leave Delhi for a town or even a city, I am surprised with how pleasant the life is outside. First thing that you always notice moving out of Delhi is how vast and wide-ranging the sky becomes. There are no more glimpses of Moons and Suns between buildings rather you become an observer of a painting happening.
I am not at all sure how did the British came up with the name ‘”the Ganges” for the Ganga. But I do know where the Ganga comes from! The river Ganga is formed at a place called Devprayag at the juncture of the Bhagirathi river and the Alaknanda river. The Bhagirathi is named after king Bhagiratha who brought down the celestial Ganga from the heavens. And the word Alaknanda literally means a young girl- the curls or the locks of hair of a young girl between 8 to 10 years which may also mean a young girl herself. The curls and locks of her hair are the waves of the river or the way of the Alaknanda in the Himalayas. When they meet at Devprayag- She is called the Ganga. Also read: The Last Journey to Ganga and scenes from my Ancestral village And The Ganga means ‘She who moves Swiftly’. It is ironical because after Devprayag, the valley slowly starts opening up. The water still remains chilled but here coming to Rishikesh from …
I had a quick two-day tour to Haridwar with parents. A meeting with a Guru was arranged and they were excited about it. I, as was the deal had only one plan; to walk as far and as close to the mother river Ganga, as much she allows. 4 a.m. When we reached Parents took to the ashram and I to the mother river. But this time without impressions. Past months have seen a difference in the way I am doing things and one thing that I am particularly peaceful about is leaving the camera first and then leaving this want, to make the most beautiful, meaningful looking photographs. I am not. I am not doing it. I am letting the days pass by without making any digital memory out of it. I feel no desire anymore to keep making memories. As of now I imagine I have done my quota of “always looking like a crow” to do something all the time. I am walking without me institutionally looking to make images or even …
January of 2023 is going to get over today. And for once I wanted to take out time to examine my last year’s archives before new year starts finding ways to create new journeys, i desired to assemble together those times; Journeys, though only handful they were, to keep them safe, here and create a reason to keep coming back, whenever needed to smile, over and over. Hence for one last time before we leave it all to memory and ongoing Life: One memory which will roam for long is going to be the death of my grandmother, and the times spent in the village along the river Ganges Mother posing on the roof of an Ashram, on the banks of Ganga in Haridwar was a memorable time. THE JOURNEY TO KASAR TEMPLE – ALMORA The first assignment came to document the sacred Kasar Devi Temple in Almora and finding a new home there like my own family, where we took a detour to visit a remarkable museum dedicated to Govind Ballabh Pant in Almora …
The morning arrived. A big day. Like a loved one’s birthday. And everything was planned. Even the time calculated for leisure. But leisure comes at a price. Millions abstain from eating that day. Reason could be their own. Mine was to celebrate. I had already spoken to Pandit Ji, I will be spending the night at the temple and hence I was taking the day lightly. I ate Moong Halwa, whatever was left of it. And stepped out for a stroll outside, to see the clouds, to breathe a few times deeply. To spread se beans and chapatis for birds and a ferocious black dog with whom I shared a biscuit and since then we were best of friends. Nearby I found a trail and was looking for the stream following its sound, when a local woman standing on the roof of her home, located on the top of that cottage hill called me thrice in succession. She stood right up at an angle close to 90 degrees asked me again if she can come …
The sleep that embraced me for three hours, left me floating in the symphony of absolute noiselessness. It was like soul refilling with ambrosian nectar liquor. Such tranquility that you start living the change when you wake up Kosher.
Pahadi Wilson was truly a Raja now, and the first thing a Raja does is mint coin in his own name. These are great Collector items today. He built a large Palace out of Deodar in Harsil.
The Museum was empty. If I ignore one woman sitting, scrolling through her facebook on phone. There was no one and nothing but the fragrance of hanging dank wood welcomed me. A feeling which comes just before entering a wormhole. Or the back side of a cinema, closed long ago. As I put first few steps walking parallel to the blue wall looking at the old, outdated, never cared for large sized prints of venerable Temples and this city; nostalgia started to evoke silent, irrelevant screams out of those bare prints.
The fourteenth night of the waning moon each month is special. But in the month of Falgun i.e. March, this 14th night is said to have an upsurge of Prana/energy in one’s system (also if one could sit still throughout night) that which even pulled Swami Vivekananda more than 130 years ago to this small little mountainous region called Almora. But more precisely to a place on the top of the Kashyapa hill known as Kasar Devi. A place or the temple structure dating back to 2nd century CE.
Continuing from FINDING Brahma Kamal: The Divine Flower Seat of Brahma: Nara on a four day trek to Rudranath : IV and The Quest for the Brahma Kamal : On a Rainy night from Delhi to Chamoli : I Pandava Forest and the Brahma Kamal : The Nights of Change in the Himalayas : II Days in the Hidden Valley of Mandal and a Small trek to Ma Anusuyadevi Temple : III : ँ : I woke up and saw two Golden Eagles, hovering above me. But my first thought were not the eagles in the sky but the leeches, what if they were dining on my hard earned blood all night! It was fine. One thing that I made peace with since my teaching days in the Karakoram Mountains was the sleeping bag. Travellers start keeping their Heart in there pockets when there is no coming back home; because their life becomes a home itself. It was a dawn to remember. Cloudless blue skies on a monsoon morning are rare at this altitude. But the wind …
They say, “once you decide what you really want, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” Only in my dream I once imagined myself walking towards one Brahma Kamal in the Higher reaches of the Himalayas, and today it was happening. Continuing from Days in the Hidden Valley of Mandal and a Small trek to Ma Anusuyadevi Temple : III Pandava Forest and the Brahma Kamal : The Nights of Change in the Himalayas : II and Finding Brahma Kamal : On a Rainy night from Delhi to Chamoli : I : ँ : It wasn’t easy to get Pluto to walk. Not because he did not want to, but he had Bhalu and Monkey, two dogs to feed. The play of life is such, that in first place I wasn’t even coming towards Gopeshwar to find my Divine Lotus; I was only going to the valley of Flowers. But Pluto’s presence in the valley nearby bum-steered my belief for a friend’s company. Somehow, ever since I have known Sumanto, and it’s been …
The last descent of the sun, unlike the day, feels leaving us the fastest. And how each day then once consumed, becomes thought of the night. Turning into complexly connected dreams in sleep. Each moment. Every missed yes, becomes only a memory once its gone and done with. Deep in the valley of Almora, there is a temple hidden in the oasis of many layers of devdars called Chitai Mata Temple or the Golu Devta Temple. On a cold morning when i decided to walk through the jungle of celestial trees, i didn’t know that i will never reach there. Not because villagers told me it was far. Or because i got frightened as villagers tried to stop me for the tiger might find me alone. To tell you, this the story of every mountain. For each valley you will visit, you will find one fearless man telling you to fear. For a tiger or two, or certainly a bear might arrive. And as always. I left. But as I left to not reach, i …
While studying culture and ancient practises in the Higher Himalayas.Continuing from Pandava Forest and the Brahma Kamal : The Nights of Change in the Himalayas and Finding Brahma Kamal : On a Rainy night from Delhi to Chamoli : ँ : Sumanto was waiting by the roadside, in front of the fisheries department. It was late in the night, very late by the mountain ways of life. Yet the most relieving part was that i wasn’t alone. With me was the last government bus, which i had to run after, in Rudraprayag to catch it. Had it not been that moment, i wouldn’t be making it even in my 30th hour of leaving New Delhi. It was cold. It was heavy. The restrain of the night, one which arrives after many days of rain. The climatic depression could still be felt. I could hear the droplets dropping off the leaves as I could hear myself heaving. The bus stopped. I bid byes to the driver, the conductor as i had been the only one riding …
While studying culture and ancient practises in the Higher Himalayas. Continuing from Pandava Forest and the Brahma Kamal : The Nights of Change in the Himalayas : ँ : Who would have known that a journey which merely started in documenting the culture of the mountains will end in a never-ending quest of finding the way to my own being. May be this is what Living in general teaches us. Like Googly in Cricket. Guruji and I came back to his home. It was cold and only a bulb far was filling the mountain home with some light. He stood for a while without speaking, almost waiting for the words to arrive. That mountain Narayan, that slope lead the last Pandava to Heaven, with a dog. We were seeing it together, in the dark. The tip of it shining, because moon was raining that night. And that is where you will find the Lotus of Brahma; a whole valley of flowers up there surrounds the divine flower; because they too revere it. They want to …
But before finding Brahma Kamal, Nara had to go through the forests where Pandavas once roamed. Pandavas! The mighty heros of the Indian Epic, Mahabharata. Who after defeating the Kauravas, after slaying their own uncles, brothers, friends in a battle that went on for 18 days, not night. The rule was to rest and sleep in the night; until Pandava’s sons were murdered. The rage from there onwards became the reason to kill; not merely win. The carnage started then. Pandavas killed each Kaurava till the last count one by one. It was a bitter victory. Pandavas went on to rule for 36 years. But the guilt of killing their own kept breathing in their minds. Pride over the years melt into feeling sinful. As sharp pangs of remorse led the Pandavas to leave their kingdom they had won; leaving their worldly clothes, ornaments, and even their weapons; to find eternal peace, to attain Moksha. It was during this search on their way to heaven, while walking for years in the mountains; numerous stories, …
ROAD TO NARA 