All posts tagged: Everyday of my Life

The Rajpath and the Ruins

His yesterday’s guilt made him wake up dot at four in the brahm mahurat. Even though he left home at five. We reached on the Rajpath in the darkness of the dawn. Never was Delhi be heard and felt from the pride and the energy with which they marched past. With the bands of each regiment leading the way. The drums, the beats, the smell of the young sweat, the valor in the air. The discipline, the clacking of the iron bar beneath their marching boots to the tar ground woke us all up. The mist, vapours coming out of mouths while a woman officer commanding against the street lamps of Rajpath takes you close to colonial India’s cold faced armies. The varieties and improvisation that has gone through in making them could be seen. It was there day. It was our day. It was a day to feel Indian when only wind moved when the national anthem rang through our nerves together. Every being was still but the wind. A day that turned long. …

The day of the U-Turn

I offered Cynthia Tea, when 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 seamed contrasting in my head. And Just before getting close to half the way to Chilling, I u-turned from the gorgeous bridge over Zanskar and rode back like I wasn’t riding. Faster, anxious as one gets after getting a temporary …

RICE was it ?

The night was strange. It was a mix of sleeping deep and aware of some thing wrong. Two weeks were over in Leh and as I had planned I got a bike for myself from Angchuk. I wanted to have a classic 350 but after the new UT status, government has ordered the bike union to commercialise all the bikes or they ll be seized. I got a Himalayan with me. While coming down to the narrow path of lama ji lane, something must have happened, the tandem that joins the knee started giving me a limp. As I lied in bed in the night the pain was such non sense that I couldn’t really understand. Throughout night as I moved from one position to other, I could feel the weight of my leg. In the morning when other artists had left I got up annoyed and in haste positioned myself in Padmasana. The whole nerve from my face to toe went so white that I could not see a thing with my eyes open …

Amarnath in the times of article 370

Even after thinking about doing something daily, one ends up doing it, achieving it, finishing it only in the head. In the head is good, as it creates enough compound interest in head but it is not good enough. I have had ups and downs, and have been away from home for some time. I was in Kashmir when article 370 was taken off. I was one of the last person to have trekked the majestic Amarnath ji this year. Without any plan or any inclination to have wanted to do it but surrendering to flow of life is such it takes you along on the paths, and you would enjoy. I fell in love with the harmony of the few people who walked along, some saints barefoot, and two without a leg who finished approximately sixty kilometres in as many days as I did. Food, sweets, tea, love and the name of shiva. But the feeling was erratic even then. Tents, people were leaving a month before. And many had already left. The way …

Voice of the self

The skin is darker inside. I have been stretching every morning now. It stays at that. When five blue pills arrived the water came out of the old cooler. Cows were inappropriately fed. But I was thinking of my new shoe who had holed my ankle. The long walk is coming. For it I had to buy phone. The sun of delhi pierced the enthusiasm of a young man. But by the evening like you, the one reading this I started to find again the voice of the self.

Dhuni

So it is Logar who starts beating the drum every night. But for sometime. May be he does it for mangla. Or may be to heat himself up. It is cold. There is wind. Neem tree under which we sleep made noise all night. The morning arrived before us even for me. It is never too hard to bathe with cold water, I have examined it several times like past two days. Next nine days and may be one more some magic is planned. When sun arrived we went in the field and started filling mud. We first put it in a copper plate and placed over it a snake near quartz and twelve other stones in the direction of the water. Maharaj went to the temple on the mountain. I and the guy whose dream is to mine a mountain started putting the clay like the nine planets roam. Even though energy is needed to pour in them vital breath but we shall see tomorrow when maharaj will wake up. Later we went around …