Friday, December 23, 2016

What if I fall? Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?






"Tell me about forty five minutes before you both have to start for the station, I'll get the dinner", said my cousin amidst socializing and gaming sessions post Diwali. Overpowering her statement, came another voice, "You guys have already missed the train!". This one was Jijaji, who was scanning through our tickets from Delhi to Pathankot on the midnight of October 31st. Kajal and I exchanged pale glances and dived into our phones to check the train details.

"The train is missed, there is a confusion with the date! No no, let us check again! 00:10 on 31st it it, today is 1st! What a blunder! Oh no, how will they go now? No matter what, I am not sending the two girls alone at night by any other means! Drop the plan, spend the vacation in Delhi! Let us check the flight tickets! How far is Jammu from Pathankot? Check the next flight to Amritsar! Drop the plan!"

The room was filled with a million advices and concerns followed by leg pulling and teasing by my aunts, cousins and brother-in-laws. Phew! Kajal and I remembered the night Ria had chosen the train and travel-date for us, and Kajal had booked it on the gunpoint. It wouldn't be a nice idea to deal with the explosive-bride in the heat of the moment, thought Kajal and I, and wore the most helpless face masks ever. Meanwhile, my two adorable jijajis were searching for all possible means to reach Pathankot at the earliest. Finally, after an hour of brainstorming and dinner gulping sessions, Jijaji booked a Shatabdi for us to travel early next morning. Three quick hours of sleeping, and jijaji dropped us to the station to reach Amritsar by noon.

"Amritsar??!!!" exclaimed mother.

Let me give a better picture - if it was any other city in the world, she would have started - "Do not go, what is the need to go? Why do you have to go everywhere? Did you eat? Do not keep going to everyone's house, call everyone home, do not go anywhere, did you eat? What did you eat? No need to go" :/ But because the gorgeous Amritsar it was, the conversation was a little different from the usual trend - "What? How did the train get missed? You girls are so careless, did you eat? Okay good that you are going to Amritsar, try visiting the Golden Temple there, Amritsar is a good city, also have langar there, but be careful. Should I ask mamaji to get you guys picked? Do goto the Golden Temple, but be careful, and do the bookings properly next time." Blahh! My mother happens to be a Punjabi, and anything related to Punjab elates her out of proportion.

We had to manage our ways from Amritsar to Pathankot before dusk. The wedding bells had to ring on the 2nd of November, and 1st evening was the cocktail. Little did we know that the Golden Temple was only about a kilometer away from the Amritsar station. We enquired the whereabouts of the beautiful monument from the locals. "Arun Jaitley is in the town, the routes are blocked, it would be slightly difficult to be back by 5PM", said Sardarji. Our next train to Pathankot was at 5PM, the only train for the day and gosh, it was 1:45PM already! "Sir, we will never be able to see the Golden Temple again, we really really want to see it, we have to reach Pathankot by evening, and we are not coming back, please help us, please", we started spilling serious raita, as if humanity was endangered and the golden enchanting enigma was the end of the world. Sardarji wore an affectionate smile, "Tussi je aa gaye ho etthe, te Babaji ke darshan kar ke hi jao, mai arrange karwa daanga!" He arranged an elderly rickshawala for us, given no cabs available. He directed the old man to keep our luggage in the cloak room, make sure we get darshan and bring us back by 5PM. And lo, so he did! No, the price charged was totally not a bomb-blast. The enthusiastic veteran himself was so promising, without expecting returns, he kept re-iterating, "Aapko darshan karwa ke hi aaoonga!". :) We both were a little scared in the beginning, our courage all spilled hither and thither, but meeting such wonderful people who extended their helping hands, we became composed. We were flabbergasted! (No I haven't flicked this 'flabbergasted' from TVF play I could swear). Golden Temple, a symbol of sublime peacefulness, is another chapter of its own. Every vivid sight of the Sikhs doing so much of selfless service would just steal your heart away. It represents the distinct identity, glory and heritage of the Sikhs. Sri Guru Granth Sahib, after its compilation, was first installed here at Sri Harimandir Sahib on August 16th, 1604 A.D. Built at a level lower than the surrounding land level, the Gurudwara teaches the lesson of egalitarianism and humanity. The four entrances of this holy shrine from all four directions signify that people belonging to any cast, creed, race, seeking solace, are equally welcome.

 I have been to this place earlier as well, but this adventure journey was remarkably different from the earlier one. The helpers prominently knew we were two helpless tourists and needed guidance to explore. One sevak uncle appeared out of nowhere, and directed us the way to have some tea. The helper serving tea wanted us to have a full cup instead of half. The gestures in underlying tones everywhere kept hinting - it is love and humanity that makes the world go round. Another helper directed us the way to langar.  A school-going young sevak saw us, and accompanied us till we called it a day in the golden attraction. He made sure we ate well, did not take, instead snatched away our plates and kept them in the washing section (while snatching away the empty plates, he said, "Aap meri didi ho na, fir dedo bartan warna gusse ho jaoonga"). He then took us to the chambers where roti making machineries were installed. The sight was so beautiful, different sections of men and women doing various "seva" like serving food and water, serving tea, applying ghee on rotis, washing dishes and a lot more. It was  breathtakingly wonderful! A beautful sight beyond the dotcom, mankind selflessly serving mankind.

Wanting to stay back here for a longer duration, we made our way back to the station. The old humble good-hearted rickshawala waited patiently for us to be back, and seemed genuinely happy that we could visit Babaji! 5:05PM at the station, the train to Pathankot was beaming at us on platform number 1, when we realised we also needed a ticket to get in! IRCTC app ditched us like it ditches the whole wide nation on and off. The ladies' queue, and all other queues for that matter were larger than the normal large! We thought of going to the counter and crying, but in vain. The ladies, who were anyway abusing each other at 120 decibels, began hurling abuses at us too, for breaking the queue. We requested the people in front to buy us tickets, but the expedition miserably seemed to fail. Hiring a cab was the next option, but none of us would get the permission from home - A, and B - we were scared to goto Pathankot in the cab at night. It was ten minutes for the train to start, when the guards suggested us to board the train and be comfortable! "Nothing will happen, just get in!", they assured us. We ran towards the train dragging our luggage full of wedding and trekking attires, passing boggie by boggie, not finding a sane one. Giving up hope on the overcrowded train, we barged into the second last coach, and stood there on the entrance, even though we could not see a space to breathe enough. The world ain't that bad, they say. There came three sane looking guys in an insane train, who helped us keep the luggage up, and offered us their seats, choosing to stand themselves. We sat with a 500Rs note in our hands, expecting to negotiate with the TT, only to realize that it was a passenger train and the tickets would have costed us Rs25 each! Whoa! This was too funny to be true. There wasn't a sign of the TT, not till eternity.  A couple in the coach began a candid conversation with us, and also offered their tickets to us just in case there was a checking at the main exit! Infact, they accompanied us till the exit and guided the driver with the directions, in their local dialect, who was to come pick us up. The world appeared wonderful!

Utsav Resorts, it was!

The cocktail were to begin when we hurriedly met the rest of our gang and went on to live on crocin and disprin. Ria looked stunning, danced like a diva and yelled at us like a, you know what! ;)
Catching onto some sleep helped us a great deal, the next day. Next morning was all about haldi, a lot of photo-sessions, photo-bombings, and fere. Each time a picture had to be clicked, a photogenic Sonia made sure she placed herself in the middle of the group! :) The cheesy pictures came out extremely well, the props were a delight to cling onto during the entire click click session! By then, Chhavi had arrived too. Rita kept surprising us by being always, (and I mean always) on time and looking lovelier than lovely. The day passed in a jiffy, one dress after the other, one ceremony after the other, dawn embraced dusk within the wink of an eye!

The decoration was lovely, the arrangements were all in place. Ria had worked day in and day out on the knitty gritties of the entire occasion. All worth! The next day, after the bride bade bye-bye kisses to the whole lot, we hired our car and headed towards a quaint little town, McLeodGanj via Dharamsala. The good-natured adorable Rita wasn't joining us, and we bade her goodbye too. McLeodganj is a picture of rural and rustic beauty, packed in one. Woohooo! The much awaited venture began. Sonia, the gorgeous damsel, was already coughing, and my favorite Kajal got a soar throat too. An energetic bubbly Anusha was full on charged with her rayban on, and a tired sweet Chhavi took the
backseat to catch up a power nap.  So many adjectives, I know! :P McLeodGanj streets were beautiful, luring us to shop the Tibetan artifacts and handicrafts :P We made our way to the Bhagsu waterfalls, clicking about three and a half million pictures on the way to and fro. The water was freezing cold, the mid way steaming hot maggie was more than a delight to devour! The cafes on the streets of McLeodganj were a little wonderland in themselves. The sight of the white Dauladhar ranges from the cafe windows was picturesque! About 5PM, it started getting dark and we realized we are yet to book a hotel! This reminds me of all the hangout video meetings we had had before the trip, to finalize places, commutation and stay! But ended up with zero  bookings. Anusha and Chhavi took the responsibility on their fragile little shoulders, and went out of the cafe to take a look at the hotels they had shortlisted online. I made my way out to a nearby Namgyal Monastery with a sneezing cute Sonia and an ever joyful badmash Kajal.  It was first established by the III Dalai Lama in 1575 in Tibet, and was relocated to Dharamshala following the Tibetan uprising in 1959.
 Needless to say, the monastery was beautiful, with a huge golden Buddha statue, and the typical circular chimes. We then hurried our way into a hotel nearby, Asian Crown, on the main street chauraha. After freshening up and having dinner, we again went down to stroll the beautiful streets to have tea, far away from the cacophony of our busy lives. Life was so peaceful there. Back to the hotel at about 10:45PM, it was decided that we would stay in one of the two rooms and chit chat for a while before sleeping. Dead tired as we were, I knew what was happening. 12 midnight, these lovely girls presented a lovely cake, purchased from the nearby bakery. Happy birthday to me was the agenda, and I would thank them forever for the gesture; for keeping awake even after a dead tiring day, when they were not even well.  This is what friends do, trouble the birthday girl, ruin her beauty sleep, but with such everlasting impact and gestures! This was big for me, thank you girls, each one of you is a sweetheart!

Next day was about visiting the Illiterati Cafe, a strong recommendation from one of our friends. Trust me, this place is worth visiting. From the balcony where you could settle and have your kahwa forever, you would marvel at the sight of people paragliding like colorful birds in the sky. They also had a little dog whom they had named "Bhaisaab"! That tiny little creature refused to budge from the balcony we were seated in. Next venture was the Dalai Lama Temple, another monastery with beautiful golden statues, scriptures inscribed, chimes and the monks offering prayers. Something was common in these monasteries that caught our eye. The offerings were full of chocolates and bakery material.
Huge stacks of lotto choco pie, real fruit juices, imported chocolates, and canned cheesy spreads were offered in huge numbers. The teachings revolved around compassion, reincarnation, middle-way approach and world peace. The museum screamed about an unsung brutal story of the invasion of Tibet by China. The scripts narrated the tale of the Dalai Lama,
and how China made attempts to eradicate their culture, how India gave them shelter, and how many of their men and women gave up their life for justice. The scripts detailing their atrocities gave us goosebumps. Sad picture! Gathering our spirits back, we then had to head to Bir to keep our luggage in the hotel, and goto Billing for the next day early morning paragliding.  Known as the "Paragliding captial of India", the towns of Bir and Billing in Kangra district are extremely popular places for adventure sport. Bir is the take off site while Billing is the landing spot. Bir is situated 35 km from Palampur, while Billing is situated 14 km from Bir. On the way, we passed by the Dal Lake, which is not at all a tourist attraction and should totally not be visited. Never! There also is a sunset point nearby, where we took another million pictures, the best part of being a girl!

"Please give me five more minutes with the Sun" pleaded a dramatic Kajal, after which she had to be dragged back to the car. Anusha apparently had a selfie stick, which played our close friend and led us to the utmost realization that selfie sticks should not be associated with psychopaths! Good thing it is! It was dark when we reached Bir, in colenell's SagarMath. Paragliding is the order of the day in Bir-Billing. It is one of the top ten destinations in the world! After making several calls to various vendors and negotiating for prices, we called Col. Neeraj Rana for our perusal. Though the charges were slightly high, this army gentleman had the most convincing and confident voice for the impending venture we were to undertake. He said if anything goes wrong, ("God forbid"), you guys could sue me. He also asked us to check the certificates, and if the other vendors had a reserved parachute, just in case the glider malfunctions. Shockingly, 60% of them did not have it. The deal was done with Mr. Rana, anticipating the rejuvenating sojourn towards Billing next morning. The next early morning, Col. Rana came to the hotel to brief us with the technique, the dos and donts, and his pilots came from Billing to Bir to pick us up. Butterflies in the stomach! The journey rained the unmatchable view of the Dhauladhar ranges on us. The paragliding sight in Billing was delightful.
About 11 AM, the pilots helped us put on the harnesses. The sight had a large number of people, solo gliders and tandem gliders. My glider was laid first without my knowledge, and as soon as my pilot called me, I claimed to back out like a trained loser and go back. His convincing skills to "go first" and "we will not die" were in complete vain, as I was almost in tears. He had to remove my glider with a heavy heart. Before we could decide on the bravo who would go first, who would have been the champ Anusha, Sonia's glider was spread. Sonia cried only one fifth of the amount I had cried about not going first, and then went on to be the first one, obviously the proud one.

What if I fall? What if I fall? Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?  One by one, we all were in the air. The sight and the experience were beyond description. The movements were almost poetic, a perfect blend of an extreme sport with the grace of mother nature. The acrobatics involved wing-over and 360 degree rotation, and I could swear, every minute in the air was worth it. It was easy, it was worth it! The pilots wait for the wind to make the glider go in the air, and all that is needed is three four steps to bid goodbye to the land beneath your feet.


Early morning is not the best time, as the thermal currents haven't taken over, and the glider requires more effort to move high up. You take off in Billing, and land in Bir in about twenty minutes. The landing was smooth for all of us, and the pride, phenomenal! After collecting the pictures and videos from the army camp and greeting thank yous to Col. Rana, we darted our ways towards Garden Cafe to have lunch.

This was another recommendation, and turned out to be a cozy little cafe again. Cheese laden cuisines and ginger lemon honey tea everywhere and every time had made our trip worthwhile. Sonia had gotten really sick in the journey, but had been managing. After paragliding, her illness bade her goodbye, and she was transformed into a super star. Anusha wasn't keeping well either, puking here and there with motion sickness. The James Bond of a Kajal too, was falling sick on and off, but would become okay with mere one tablet, and with claims! After finishing lunch, we went onto see an embellished Sherabling Monastery in Bir. This was a huge one, with a beautiful hall comprising an ornated Buddha statue. It had quarters to accommodate five hundred monks, three shrine halls, six shrine rooms and all of the traditional and modern monastic features.

Chhavi had to catch her train to Delhi at 8:50PM from Pathankot, and we had our trains to Delhi later in the night about 11PM. We were running late back to Pathankot after spending leisure hours in Garden Cafe and Sherabling Monastery. We kept telling Chhavi, even if the train is missed, it wouldn't be a deal if you just get in our train. After the Amritsar-Pathankot travel, our confidence to travel without tickets has hiked up to skyhigh :D The driver was under pressure, as if some deployment would explode and a million dollar deal would slip onto another competitor. He was slowly accelerating in the hilly landscapes as much as possible. A tensed Chhavi wore a gloomy expression and all of us kept consoling her about how beautiful life is, and it is okay to miss a train. 8:45PM, and trust me 8:45PM it was, when we reached the station. Anusha escorted Chhavi inside and a caring concerned Sonia ran recklessly behind them for the see off. Two more minutes and a phone call from Sonia says the train was late and had just arrived. Kajal and I rushed to get the platform ticket, only to realize Chhavi was playing the Simran of DDLJ to catch her coach, and Anusha supporting her morally in the marathon all the way long till the last coach. And Simran got into the train finally! We then had dinner in a nearby hotel and came back to the station to board our trains to the smog covered, eye burning, calamity struck Delhi. Bon Voyage! Beautiful place and wonderful friends, a journey so worthwhile!

Himachal, a must-go place!














Thursday, October 13, 2016

God's own, they say !

Settled comfortably in the slopes of Western Ghats, Kerala has been one of the most enchanting travel destination for travel freaks. The last thing you would expect from Kerala is to be a tropical paradise, and it truely is!

The beautiful backwaters of Kerala are a complicated labyrinth of canals, rivers, lakes and inlets where sea water and freshwater meet each other. Houseboats were traditionally used to transport harvested rice from the backwaters, but today they are mostly used for tourism. You get to choose from over 2000 houseboats roaming the canals. However, the best way to wander in those canals is by a kayak, since huge houseboats cannot sail amidst smaller canals where you get to see the wildlife and locals going around with their daily activities.


The water-ride in the Cochin Port is another cookie in the basket . It is a major port on the Arabian Sea – Indian Ocean sea route. It was naturally formed by the great floods of Periyar. In the same ride, they give you a quick tour of Paradesi Synagogue and describe the Jewish practices, and their discipline -
just a nice different experience. You would also get to see from a little distance (at the entrance of the harbour), gigantic Chinese fishing nets operated by huge machines to earn a livelihood, solely by fishing. The Dutch Palace falls in your plate next, built by the Portugese. It was given to Raja Varma later. Followed by the Dutch Palace is St. Francis Church, built originally by the Portuguese; believed to be the first church built by Europeans in India. Vasco da Gama was originally buried here.You would also see innumerable big and small ships (containers and cruise vessels) taking goods/passengers to places far and wide.

Munnar, well known for its verdant hills draped in exotic tea plantations will take your breath away. A hundred of pages would be less to scribble the experience in this wonder-land.
Those fleeting few grey moments, suspended between inky blackness and early morning light, provide the most drama at times. Like they did one early morning, when we peeped out into the balcony, just to soak in the spectacular scene unfolding in front of us. The sky was still a dark purple, the silhouette of the mighty tea plantations looming large in the distance. Behind the ever-lasting greens, the dark purple subtly embraced the tinged pinkish-orange, even as the horizon appeared clear and cloudless.

We watched in awe as the pinkish orange turned into surreal gold, as the sun rose from behind the lush green dewy hills - a disc of deep crimson. I thought of the drawings I had done during art classes in primary school. But this was for real ! Just a few minutes, and the sun was over and above the hills, drenching everything in crisp bright light. We stood spellbound, cold notwithstanding.  The first rays also served for the birds to shake off their chirping and myriad calls; just the background score that this breath-taking sight needed.

As the morning wore on, we ventured out along narrow, winding roads up the hills, flanked for the most part, by deep gorges on one side and towering hills on the other. Occasionally, the dense foliage cleared to reveal a hamlet on either side. A walk to remember!

Getting drenched in the monsoon rain, sipping a steaming hot cup of ginger tea, feeling the raindrops on your palm amidst such marvellous picturesque paradise, is a unique experience of its own kind. Far far away from the noisy, dawn to dusk hustle bustle of our daily routines, the glorius sound of silence would provide you a perfect "me time"! .


Do not miss a luxuriant and easy way to achieve an instant calm and rejuvination with the most divine ancient Ayurvedic ritual  - Shirodhara. Practiced for more than 5000 years, Shirodhara oil treatment is based on ancient principles of Ayurvedic medicine. Translated from Sanskrit as a holistic healing Science, Ayurveda aims to harmonize the body, mind, senses and soul. Ayurveda may be an ancient Indian therapy, but its appeal is thoroughly modern. This holistic system of diet, herbal remedies and massage has become popular with thousands of celebrities, spa-goers and harried workers who wish to regain a balanced and healthy life. While you go on to choose one, make sure the ambience is worthwhile and the equipments do not need refilling and restarting, creating unnecessary bomb-blast sounds that would end up damaging the entire bliss.

I could go on writing about this little heaven on earth; I could go on visiting it year after year! God's own, they say!

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Letter from an Empath!

While I love to help others, I'm not responsible for fixing your life or catering to your toxicity. I'm not responsible for managing your triggers, walking on eggshells or telling you what you want to hear in order to keep the peace. I am not your emotional punching bag, nor am I your emotional sponge. I do not exist for your pleasure or as a site for your projected pain. My responsibility is to myself - to be my own person and stay true to myself; to heal my own wounds, manage my own triggers, and engage in self-care so that I can give to others authentically without depleting myself in the process. My responsibility is to maintain healthy boundaries, especially with those who are unhealthy.

If I Should Have a Daughter

When Sarah Kay herself narrated this one !

Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”
She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.
And “Baby,” I’ll tell her “don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”
But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boats nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.
I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind. Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this, “There’ll be days like this my momma said” when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you,” ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.
You will put the “wind” in win some lose some, you will put the “star” in starting over and over, and no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting I am pretty damn naive but I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
“Baby,” I’ll tell her “remember your mama is a worrier but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.”
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.

http://ohsarahkay.tumblr.com/b

What if I fall? Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?

" Tell me about forty five minutes before you both have to start for the station, I'll get the dinner" , said my co...