All posts tagged: Art

Homeland

He woke up four inches below the snow like bed. But the day ahead was going to be as treacherous. He felt excited because travelling to rural India gave a smile to his face. Indian villages to a good extent still practice their civilisational old traditions. The air is different, the land for miles is green. But leaving Delhi behind is a lengthy affair. Their is an infrastructure push. Hundreds and thousands of trees that once gave beauty, breath and shade have now given way to expressway and highways and along with it empty, always being constructed high rise buildings. Slowly we start going past it. And we start seeing cow dung cakes kept for sun drying for kilometres. For centuries cow dung cakes known as “upla” in Hindi are used for cooking, cleaning homes and for homa- the fire worship. It’s smoke is known to purify the environment killing small insects and creatures. Many years ago someone said to Nara about India, when he was roaming in the river valleys of Kedar, that India …

The day of the U-Turn

I offered Cynthia Tea. She said “I am sorry, I am still not Indian’ and asked me to come up and look at the lines on her table. The table had a beautiful map. And this map sounded fulfilling. It had the river Indus, a path that will leave the road behind and lead to a narrow canyon. I must take that. And walk for an hour or two to the village of TAR where Cynthia’s best friend lives, in a cave like kitchen, where Ibex’s and snow leopards come sometimes to say hello. I left. In between late and very late. Almost not sure. Not excited. On my Himalayan. but something felt missing the whole day. More motivation! No. What had I thought and where am I leading myself to. The path seemed contrasting in my head. And Just before getting close to half the way to Chilling, I u-turned from a gorgeous bridge over Zanskar and rode back like I wasn’t riding. Faster, anxious as one gets after getting a temporary focus, on …

Arrival of the ancient mountains

In the night a train came. In it was an engine sleeping above Maharaj. So loud was his snore that I started going from bed to bed but to only kept get up enquiry after enquiry. In the morning as the sun rose, Aravalis were seen passing. Winters seemed gone, the moment I poured ground water on my head at four in the morning in February. A mountain starts from behind the ashram. And holds in him a panther they call Jacky. Jacky is popular and so much that he has come in the premises for if the cows go munching in the night. Me and Maharaj went to the Hinglaj temple and sang songs for two hours after we had food. I saw mangla while coming down and went near her to comb her stomach. During that time I learnt few new things about shukra and shiva, Shani and Vikramaditya. There is one Banayan, one neem, a library and enough blankets under the open sky. Rathore’s Kuladevi is Mata Nageahwari. Lights are out but …

Play a sport

Many a times when body starts feeling the temperature, it starts affecting every other small action, as simple as interaction. But there is one thing that has worked for me since my teenage years. Every time I felt tired or exhausted. When body felt like breaking up, lethargy, uneasiness or just plainly feeling low crept up. I always called up a friend and played a sport. Probably sweating it out, screaming, shouting and expressing every other emotion that comes with it. I learnt playing Table tennis only a few years ago and since then it has only added dimensions the way my body reacts while moving, watching the spin of the ball, or the moment when you know it has to be smashed. It has always been an exciting mix of playing serves with different arms of various nationalities and minds. It has made conversations start and built observations. It is as good as chess and as fast as instinct. I lost four games out of seven today but by the time it ended, my …

Love is everywhere

Cambodia has started to settle inside. It is hot. But Its winters here. Its Busy and Open. Moving slowly. Women from various countries as diverse as nature is are seen Smiling, enjoying. Much like Indian, Cambodians have a strong family sense. Rafa, was the first person i met on this fellowship. He was also the first person to arrive in Cambodia. Second became I. He is a good man. As we sat talking with each other the first day after meeting he opened up like he cannot hide. Tears coming down from eyes. He told me he is divorced. And is a father of a young girl, Maya. We bonded most beautifully and talked about photography and the history of Angkor workshops and things to be seen around about in Cambodia. I met a woman cycling, and found each other cycling to the river together. She is going through her divorce too. After documenting all day i got to a bar where i found a ping pong table. Ben with whom I played yesterday sat …

The Red Cambodian Bed

  I had been walking for last two days. But did not really reach anywhere. At the same time It took two days to understand two parallel road that looked similar and after reaching a circle went different ways. It took me time to understand two important Khmer words like Susrai/hello and okun/thank you. I finally decided to rent a cycle with city tyres. I think I have spent all day today roaming around the outskirts of Siem Reap and then sometimes away towards the urbanised rural area, and sometimes cycling far away along the river to Tonle sap and towards the country side. There are still days when i will be meeting my mentor for the workshop, but all this roaming is only to embrace as much information and varied subjects so as to present to the teachers what we will be working on as a project in Cambodia dedicated to Cambodian people, at least that is how i thought i would like to work. I am feeling so happy and so free in …