Kanha-VII

Next morning we headed early for some place known as Sarhi. It was the third gateway, the other two being Kisli and Mukki, which led to the forest of Kanha and we were informed that it was a completely new, unexplored territory which had been opened only one month back. Few tourists even knew of its existence. The morning brought with it biting cold and none felt the snug security of sweaters enough to ward off the fierce freeze. It was literally chilly, jaw-rattlingly at that. Another jacket put on the already clumsy looking piles of woolen-wear that were us, we tip-toed out to the veranda outside our dormitory. It was still dark outside. We had to press the torches into action to navigate our way to the canteen to have our morning tea. That put in more vigor into us instantly ( this Central-Indian tea is markedly different from the variety we have here in Kolkata. Its actually all milk, and practically no-water stuff). We had our breakfast packed from the kitchen and as the other gypsies started to line-up at the gate, we jumped onto ours, waiting for the gate-lifting ceremony patiently. Every one looked raring to go. After all it was our last morning trip in the jungle. Every one wanted to make it a memorable one. As the gate opened gypsies started to move in and onto our car jumped in a familiar figure. He was the same person who had prescribed the efficacious 'jadi-booti' for Baeka the previous afternoon. And today he had come mentally prepared to handle 'the situation'. He insisted strongly that he sit alone, beside the driver, pre-empting any proximity to Baeka which could trigger another rapid-fire round of questions. Four of us were uncomfortably packed into the rear row of seats. But then, Raju guide (that was his name) looked determined this morning and we had to 'adjust'.

Easing into the meadows we could not believe our eyes. The familiarity of their faded green had vanished from them and a sea of mist had settled most condescendingly on top of the grass. It was as if we were inside a completely different forest in a completely different time. Raju was narrating to us how 27 villages, including his, had to be rehabilitated outside the forest margins to set up this Park. Lots of fertile tracts went waste and people suffered. Then, of course, the Govt. came to their aid and nowadays all was well with the villagers. In between sympathising for their plight we were discussing, in hushed tones, how the forest held back so many of its appearances just for the 'effect', so it seemed. And yet, it never failed to inspire awe with recurring novelty. Grand!

The roads familiar to us through the previous trips were now fast replacing some uncharted paths. The colours of the trees were different. The leaves a profusion of hues, some autumn red, some fresh green, at places deep-green left us fascinated. And yet, the marvel of the forest would not end. As we moved deeper into the forest and the Sun yawned in its first rays of light into the setting, everything seemed to have come to a stand-still just to witness this spectacle. Wherever we looked we saw an ocean of mist, far-stretched and imposing, rippling forward riding the waves of sunlight which had just recently invaded its slumber. And then what met our eyes made me think 'Heaven is here' and nowhere else could it be. Lodged on top of a small pool, we could not decide as to which side held a better view as both made us feel deprived, even for a second's delay in noticing them.

On our left, perched on a rock were two Adjutant Storks, spreading their wings to emulate flight and showing us in this process its complete wing-span. Black and beautiful. On the right the sight of a single long tree, dead and leafless, lodged against the backdrop of the faraway ranges covered in a cloud of mist and fog met our eyes. All along our way grandeur of the morning-forest had captivated us so much that we had been completely unaware of the killing-cold accompanying us. Running noses and frozen palms became the topic of discussion now and speculation was rife regarding the temperature. We had no way of knowing that. The chill was near complete. It breached every piece of clothing we had assiduously put on and pierced our very marrows. There was hardly any difference between Kanha and Kanchenjunga here, we felt.

The Sun was starting to reclaim its territory now, its rays pervading space and diffusing warmth. We saw a herd of cheetals stand up in alarm, their ears pointed in one single direction, feeling the air for danger. Kudai Dadar, as this place was called, had all the makings of a Topobon (meditation ground), where saints must have come in quest for salvation and truth. Moreover, I personally felt that this place could surely make saints out of ordinary men, even rogues. It had that quality of overwhelming purity in it. It had a sense of compelling divinity that was captivating and yet was so powerful that it could subjugate hearts and minds with a sensual persuasion, both subtle and alluring. We saw a tree resplendent with bright red fruits, hanging in bunches. Raju told us it was the Sinduri tree, used by tribal women as vermilion. The opulent crimson of the flowers was further magnified by the generosity of the sun shining on them.

When the Sun looked in complete control of the morning, we went back to Center-point for tea and snacks. Many foreigners were spreading out their elaborate breakfast outdoors. It looked as if there was a banquet of sorts commencing in the jungle. And most unfortunately, we were the only spectators to it. Our guide found out from others that the mercury had dipped to touch 0-degrees in the morning. Again ignorance had saved us the panic that this little information could have caused, if known earlier during the trip. Now, we could appreciate why it had been so bone-chillingly cold in the open. That gave us the shivers afresh. After having some samosas and bread-pakoras the six of us went in to see the museum as Chetan looked out for some of his work-related information in the vicinity. Inside the museum, we saw a documentary on Kanha and another one which showed a forest guard who escaped an attack by two young tigers. Another showed how one of the ranger's skull was almost ripped open by a sloth-bear. Both had made narrow escapes and were still very much alive and serving the forest. After lazing around and having a second round of tea from our now famous 'common-fund' we decided it was time we headed for Sarhi, our original destination.

The road to Sarhi was pristine, appealing and almost unexplored as promised. The long grass on the road was ample proof of its untrodden status till now. It was a long journey, but without the climb or turns of the road to Bahmni Dadar. Instead, on both sides were forest-brooks lined with boulders and little mounds on which grew a thin variety of wild-bamboo. Some were dried white and were in stark contrast to the otherwise rich green scenery. After an hour or so we ascertained that we were at a considerable altitude as the foothills of Vindhyas were visible. The hills were covered with greenery and housed Neelgais, the biggest of the Indian antelopes, we were told. We finally got a glimpse of a big herd of Neelgais but, the tall grass hindered our view. The guide told us that as they were totally unaccustomed to human presence they were extremely shy and ran away from our gypsy. Finally out of the Sarhi-gate we could come down from the car. Then, we headed for Bichhiya, a small suburb where we would have our lunch in some local Dhaba. They were dime a dozen according to Raju. We rode through a village from where Raju hailed. He came back in a while from his home and next stop was a Dhaba. While the food was being ordered, one by one everyone of us made a routine call back home as others explored the adventure of sitting on a charpoy. The anda-curry was all red-hot inflammable but, with no other option at hand, the curry was 'managed' with some lemon garnishing. An hour or so and we were heading back into the forest for the evening-trip. Life was becoming hectic but this was our last tryst with the forest and we braced ourself with the hope of seeing a tiger. Rajenbhai, as efficient as he is, quickly took us through the villages to Sarhi . Only once did we stop at Raju's field from where he picked some pea-plants and thrust onto our laps. We were half-way making a 'neat job' out of it when Avik started complaining that the shrub had started causing 'serious irritation' on his arms and legs. Quickly they were disposed off. I, Harry and Baeka, the ever curious ones in the group utilised this delay to explore further and asked for some water at Raju's place which was at a stone's throw. As hospitable as one could be, he made us sit inside his hut and rushed inside to bring some water. It was a nicely made up place. Neat and homely. He brought us water which was as cool as the ones we drink out of the water-cooler in our college. Soon we were inside the forest and anticipation was running high inside us.

On our return-trip we first came face to face with a gigantic bison. It stared at us for a while and then moved away nonchalantly. At one place we waited for while, Raju all ears to the monkeys calling at a distance. A gypsy came from the front and reported alarm calls. We moved forward and Raju inferred that we were very close to the tiger. It must be looking to cross the road to go to the water-hole on the other side, he said. For the next 20 minutes we were ricocheting back and forth in search of the elusive tiger. Then, suddenly, Raju called out, "Tiger, tiger!...... yehi pe thhaa..... uss taraf chala gaya....gaari pichhe lo..". Alu and Dudu approved of this claim as they too had seen a young one coming out of the thickets to cross the road. Startled by the sound of our gypsy approaching, it had gone right back to the safety of its familiar surroundings, thus, robbing us of a 'priceless sighting'.

Though we missed the tiger, we saw a rare sight sometime later, a Barasingha, true to its name i.e The Indian Swamp Deer, was chomping on aquatic weeds in knee-deep water. We also saw a herd of bison crossing the road. They are an imposing emblem of strength and and just their sight can set one's pulse racing. But, to our good fortune we found all of them in good humor and they went about chomping on their quota of grass without any fuss. Finally as the sun was setting behind the Vindhyas, we spotted a wild-cat walking by the road. Baeka informed us that it was quite a rare sight. The tour till date had been great and undoubtedly something to cherish for the rest of our lives. The forest, in its multifarious colours and forms had presented itself before our eyes and fashioned the canvas of our minds with relentless vigor and subliminal finesse at every step. It had inspired and intimidated us, enthralled and enamored us. Though now the time had come to bid the forest a somber goodbye and look back at its chained gate with little regret and complete contentment we were all looking for an 'encore' in the near future.


Next Stop - Jabalpur.

to be continued...................................

Kanha - VI

It was decided that we skip the morning tour. Avik was having a bout of terrible indigestion and acidity, and the rest of us were feeling 'simply too tired'. Taking out one hectic morning trip out of the itinerary would do a world of good to rejuvenate our minds and replenish our vigor which was not lost at all but starting to sag a bit. After all we haven't had a good long sleep from the time we stepped off the train. The night brought in sleep which was made more sweeter by the knowledge that the morning held no rigors. People could just be in bed till they felt hunger rumbling inside them and that's exactly what they did. It was well past 11 when everyone finally seemed to have taken leave of their respective sleep-hang-overs. The morning was spent soaking in the sight and light of the forest, in the green sofa on the big veranda outside the dormitory. One by one a variety of snacks and cream-biscuits made their way to the cane-table. And as swiftly as they came in, they vanished. Lazing around the adjoining areas, looking out for birds and deers, myself, Baeka and Dudu ventured out onto the road for more. A five-minutes walk down it and there we found a place which looked custom-made for hosting a filmi 'dancing around trees' routine. Yet, it had a order of serenity to it. I egged Baeka into the woods for a closer look-in. The shade of the imposing sals lent a sense of eerie solemnity to the surroundings. Everything was so quiet, so still. The silence was punctuated at unequal intervals by the melodious calls of an Indian roller, a variety of bird found in these parts Baeka would tell me. Then the thought of having our baths and lunch occurred and promptly our secret tryst with the forest interrupted. We made for our hostel and from a distance saw cheetals crossing the road to reach a water-hole. A Jackal was also visible from a distance on our way back. Suddenly, we were reminded that we weren't allowed to roam about in the forest on foot by a passing motorcyclist who waved his hand at us with visible consternation. He was pointing to us the way to our lodge.


Inside the hostel, not yet satisfied with his nocturnal exploits from exploring the magic of using a western toilet the Indian way Avik was betting that he could finish his bath within 8 minutes. The last person to put up his money on a proposition which had even the slightest hint of 'loss', Dudu was the epitome of confidence at such a proposal propping up. He was all for the bet. And like in most cases which concern cash or convenience he won. Avik had taken just over 16 minutes to have his kaak-snaan ( crow-dip) of a shower and he still looked drenched. Towelling would account for another 10 minutes at the least. The rest of us being 'average guys' took our average times under the shower and headed for the canteen. It was lunch-time again. That much awaited hour when we would again take pleasure in startling our audience and bamboozling our hosts, the M.P tourism people who had the courage of thinking of the idea of 'having your fill' and implement it. We were teaching them an unpleasant lesson. Bowls made a bee-line for our table and were left marauded in no time. Rice, chapati, sabji, rajmaa, raytaa. Nothing was spared. Nothing was left. Not even the inconspicuous salad. Strolling back to the hostel in all our rotund glory we stopped to 'smell the roses' a little. A little hour of purposeless wandering refreshing the mind, helping us unwind.

At our door-step was waiting a boy of our age. He was to share the dormitory with us for the coming two days. Getting a little conversation underway we learnt that his name was Chetan and he was a final year student of Architecture and had come here for doing some research on the Forest Dept. structures. Gradually as the eager hindi-speakers amongst us ( that would be myself, Baeka and Harry) made headway in befriending Chetan, clearing a bed off our luggage for him and inquiring about his academic course the reluctant Hindi-bhashis in Avik and Dudu made slow yet steady progress. It was so arranged that Chetan would accompany us on our evening-trip.

Work could wait for the next morning. We could already feel the positive vibes.

The evening trip was not too different from the previous evening trips owing to the fact that the gypsies were not allowed to travel far within the forest during the evening. Returning in time was a security issue in the jungle after sunset. The hazards of traveling inside the forest in total darkness was an avoidable anathema to us, considering the images ( or the lack of them) from our first night in the forest still fresh in our memories. The tiger-trail was quickly latched onto by the well co-ordinated guides and soon we were silent in anticipation of a tiger sighting. After waiting for quite some time with no reward we headed forward. I spotted a white vulture, perched atop a tree, looking contemplative with its gray feathers making for a royal gown. Surprisingly, our guide told us it was indeed called the 'King Vultute' and that it was extremely rare in these parts, battling extinction. Making a detour we came back to a spot where we could see a couple of gypsies eagerly awaiting the advent of a tiger. Suddenly, Avik and Dudu shouted out "sher, sher" in unison, the excitement in their voices rendered genuine by their volumes. Then as reason dawned, Avik whispered a husky, " Haa, haa..... wahaan pe sher thaa. Sher thaa. Chala gaya uss taraf." Dudu lent his voice of support to this assertion. Our guide and Baeka looked skeptical of the veracity of such a claim. Now, our car followed with another in tow in 'that' direction. Avik's blue-eyed 'English' beauty was on another car behind us, perhaps wary of her previous experience one would imagine. The tiger, as said by D & A combine, was heading towards the road when the sound of our approaching gypsy startled it and it made a prompt U-turn, only to disappear into the dense woods. I could not track it too.
Recovering from such a miss as a tiger-sighting the mood was a bit on the side of somberness for the rest of us. Avik had made good for his previous day's miss and was happy for it. Dudu was busy counting the exactitude of extracting 'value for money' from the two sightings 'only' he had had and glowing in its obvious sense of gain. Baeka peppered the guide with questions as to how life for them was inside the forest. What training they had received before getting inducted. What type of qualification was required for such a job. Etc etc and etc. The rest of us, especially Alu, worried that such queries were potential precursors to a voluntary van-vaas of a dear friend, were left speculating on the chances of such an unfortunate eventuality. Then as we were approaching the gate at the end of our trip, a single male Bison showed up in all its brute virility. It looked every bit the one-tonne demolition unit it is said to weigh, a fierce fighter and a symbol of massive strength and violence. While all of us were leaning over to have one glimpse of this shy monster, a piece of conversation stole into my ears and made our day. I could only clench my lips with my teeth to not let out a howl of a guffaw at that very moment. As I later narrated the 'little incident' to others people were rolling over the place with laughter, even the one at its receiving end, Baeka.

When everyone was busy accommodating the Bison within their camera frames, Alu had nimbly put a coupe de grace to all of Baeka's queries with a little chat with our guide ( Raju Yadav). He had said, "Iska sawaalon ka buraa mat maniyega, Bhaisaab......... picchli baar jab yeh Kanha ayaa thha...........tab tiger dekhtey waqt gypsy se girke isko dimaag mein chot ayaa thaa. tab se yeh har saal kanha ataa hain aur..........."

The guide had precluded all further narration with a wave of a hand and a sympathetic, " Haan, maalum chal raha hain. Magar, koi baat nahin, Sirji....... thoda jadi-booti de denge inke liye. roj pelaiyegaa..........bilkuul theek ho jayenge."


The rest, as they say, was history. A hilarious one at that.




to be continued...................................

Kanha- IV

I sleep for six to seven hours a day on an average. Sleep eludes me when its every other person's pastime. I envy people who have the services of this comforting mistress at their beck and call. They can just lie down, close their eyes and sleep settles over them like a warm blanket in no time. But, no. That does not happen to me. I do not pass out unless and until I am dead tired or it has been at least half an hour that I have tussled with sleep in my bed. Sometimes, I feel, I tire Sleep to sleep with me.
The first night inside Kanha was no exception. But with a reassurance of an old habit relapsing sleep diffused into my system within half an hour after the lights were put out.


I woke up to see Baeka covered from head to toe in winter-gear. Three to four layers of clothing to be topped by a fine jacket made me feel warm from inside somehow. Empathy, maybe. His monkey-cap lay ready beside him, resting like a weathered shield awaiting its call to duty. I wondered if it was really that cold outside. Reluctantly leaving the comfort of my blanket, I stepped out to realize Baeka was doing the least he could to keep off the biting cold. It was freezing outside and coupled with the advent of a steady breeze things felt even worse. Dudu, the ever vigilant and the unnecessarily anxious soul that he is thought it better to keep to the warmth of the blanket for a bit longer. Alu was next out of bed after me. Dudu followed, never the one to be left behind last at anything. Harry was looking every bit 'the baby boy in a dreamy daze' that is so typical of him after he wakes up in the morning, sitting up on the bed, not letting off the blanket, staring at people on their move, waiting for that opportune moment to step out and get to work. Avik, was still somewhere lost in his blissful slumber that refused to part with his company even at this hour of morning exigency. The 'daily chores' were swiftly done away with and then started a session which saw 'the great unraveling episode' with our respective baggages playing the lead roles. Every kind of warm clothing, woolen or otherwise, known to human kind found their way out into the open and everyone made the other feel 'ill-equipped' for facing the morning chill with their cache.
There is something magical about the weather in Madhya Pradesh we were told. The days can be pleasant and warm in the winter but, sweltering in the summer whereas nights, irrespective of the season remain a soothing refuge by being cool and comfortable. However cold or chilly, it was a happy haven for us; panting souls roaming the roads in the midst of May with the full blast of the Kolkata Sun and the inexorable humidity we couldn't have asked for a better clime for a outing.


All in readiness, our gypsy arrived with Rajenbhai at the wheel and soon we were all waiting in a queue of cars raring to get in first and have the first glimpse of the forest under the wrap of mist and fog. Baeka, slave to his temperamental tummy, got one of his normally numerous calls of nature as the gates were just about to be opened. Panic set into the herd. "Were we going to be marooned in this island of desolation and come last in the race we should have won otherwise ?", "Was this the first of sign of things to come? Was this an ill-omen for us?" were the questions troubling the weak at heart. The stolid preferred to think on the lines of, " How late would Baeka render us?" and "Why us, always ?". One doubts if even Rajenbhai was all praise for Nature's timing at this crucial a juncture. All queries, frivolous or frightened, were answered at the sight of Baeka approaching us, a 'liberated bliss' sketched clear on his features, a gratified smile diffusing in all its human effortlessness. We were left aghast at this 'miracle' of sorts as to how one could ease ones' self in just under 60 seconds. As the gypsy kicked up dirt and pierced into the open meadows one more was added to the number of 'The Biggest Unsolved Mysteries of the World' with the likes of Bermuda Triangle and Riemann Hypothesis.

'The Curious Clean-up Act', we would call it later.


The forest shrouded in the mystery of the morning mist looked breathtakingly beautiful, as if waking up in all its childish reluctance to the nudge of nascent rays the headmaster like Sun lavished on it with an eye towards inculcating the lesson of seeking Truth in Beauty. The meadow was covered with a thick blanket of mist, which looked more like rising from it than setting on it. Two bamboo thickets converged overhead, in the middle of the road, looking every bit a 'Welcome' sign. Our destination was 'Bahmni Dadar', the highest point of Kanha. By the sound of it we knew it would be a longish journey and had collected our breakfast wrapped in aluminium foils from the tourist canteen. There was a thin sense of urgency, not too pressing though, in reaching there as quickly as possible considering that the view from the top was most beautiful during the early hours, gradually decaying to the tyranny of the sun as the day progressed. We had to hurry to be on time. But, we were lucky that hardly anyone had made plans to be there this morning. So it seemed by the silence that greeted us as our gypsy took hairpin bends and tumultuous turns like on hilly roads. Life for the next one hour was a roller-coaster ride. At places the beauty of the forest fascinated with unfailing regularity. Peacocks made way for us and cheetals looked cautious. After a heady climb, which our guide told us was about 850 odd meters above the sea-level, a sight met our eyes which captivated our senses for the last-leg of our journey. This was it! Bahmni Dadar!

The place belied all our expectations as to how a vantage point should look like. Unlike places of high altitude, this was really a plateau, a completely flat piece of land nestling at a reasonable altitude. The vegetation was the surprise-package. It was as green as green could be. Every shade of it. Faded, fresh, fertile. The sprawling meadows reminded me of Discovery channel documentaries on Africa once more. Sunlight was filtering in through a shadow of clouds, the sort of thing we know heralds a doibo-baani ( divine message) in our mythological serials.

We were streaming past the tall grasses which hindered clear sight and it seemed as if somewhere deep inside them was in ambush a tiger for its prey. The very thought was thrilling and going by our surroundings my supposition seemed every bit possible. Enthused, I stood up on my seat ( which was beside the driver's) to soak in the sight and the sounds. The breeze was strong now, now that we were at a reasonable height it was becoming more pronounced. A few meters ahead and we were face to face with a small herd of samvars. They were really close and two of them seemed far from shy. Actually two posed for the cameras, folding a foreleg in true emulation of the alert-deer pose. "What business, Mister? So early in the morning, eh ? Jobless humans!", it seemed to be saying.


At last we were at Bahmni Dadar. All jumped out to touch land at last. It had been quite a long journey. We rushed off to the edge to have a glimpse of the entirety of Kanha from there. It was truly a beautiful view. A natural spectacle riveting to every detail by the sheer power of its size and extent. I accepted the fact that sighting one of 131 tigers in this vast expanse of blinding greenery was but a little short of zealous optimism. Not a subscriber to such 'brightness and light' that often drives an element of wishfulness in the name of Hope into humans, I took solace in the fact that one night inside the forest and already 'one tiger sighting' was good enough for us, starters. In that way we were fortunate, judging by the sheer probability perspective of another sighting in the offing.

A prolonged photo-session later when everyone clicked everyone else, clutching and holding onto anything in sight ( e.g a rock with a notice engraved on it) we jumped into the car to head home.
The breakfast-foil forayed out and was quickly emptied to the cry of our aching tummies.
Baeka pointed out at a strange white bird, the Changeable Hawk-Eagle, on our way back. But, it promptly flew away precluding any possibility of taking a picture for future research. The rest of the journey was spent on an argument raised by Avik as to why the changeable hawk-eagle was so queerly named ? Was it hawk by the day and eagle by the night thereby justifying the 'changeable' part? Aren't hawks and eagles the same thing indeed? Not finding suitable answers to buttress his otherwise suspicious inclination towards the wild Avik concluded with his trademark callous indifference (bordering on restlessness at not having found a satisfying answer) that, "such hawks were dime a dozen in Kolkata too. The average Chil it was.". All this while Alu was giving constant company to more such hilarious theories on 'Apt Nomenclature'. There were comparisons being drawn between the Deer Park in Shantiniketan and Kanha and how it too housed a variety of deers. The animal lover in Baeka was aghast at such a horrendous proclamation ridden with falsity and ignorance. Some comparisons just never fail to blow your lid off. As battle-lines were being drawn we again offloaded for a while to see the place where it is believed Sravan's ( the character who carried his blind parents around in Ramayana) parents were cremated. Our guide pointed out to us that not a single blade of grass grew on the two mounds till date.

In serious need of a cup of tea or two to rejuvenate our senses from the overdose of an exhilarating optical extravaganza we stationed ourselves at the Center-point inside Kanha. It had a spacious canteen which served piping hot tea, samosas and bread-pakoras, had a parking space, green benches and to the delight of Bekaa and Aka ( i.e Harry) a set of 'spectacular' toilets.
Next we headed for our hostel. Adequate rest would be of essence considering we also had an evening-trip coming up shortly. But it would be a post-lunch affair and how much we were looking forward to that!

Food came first. Everything could just follow. Like always, no exceptions. No exemptions.




to be continued ..........................................................

Kanha- III

The adda session slowly drowning in intermittent cries of hunger, we decided it was time for dinner. The door of the dormitory was being locked when something of a spectacle struck us down cold.

Darkness!
Believe me, if you haven't been to a forest before, take it from me, "There are few things as supremely intimidating as a walk inside a forest in the night". It was literally 'pitch black' outside. The six of us were left looking askance at each other. Alu had suddenly become oblivious of any sensation known hitherto to mankind as 'hunger'. Dudu looked visibly shaken. With a resolve that ravenous men have when danger separates them from their food we moved forward in a battle formation that would make a retreat look more honorable. Small torches made their best attempt at lighting up the road for us but, what they really did was magnify the sheer completeness of the darkness. And that at all didn't serve the purpose!
We inched to the canteen where promptly the tables were set. The good food ( albeit completely vegetarian) assuaged to some extent the rigors of our recent 'adventure' and at the same time galvanizing strength and courage for a rerun on our way back to the hostel. Post-dinner I called out everybody to look up at the sky which was littered with countless constellations we knew no name of. The clarity of the sky coupled with the sheer presence of the dark forest, waiting almost in an endless anticipation made me feel dizzy by its sheer import. The stars were so real yet so distant. One feels too very lonely at times like these. The endless extent of Creation belittles you and you feel insignificant and small. Yet, there is an empowering satisfaction, a sense of absolute liberation in accepting that smallness, that insignificance. I don't know if it's normal or not but, at times like this I feel like dying. It makes me feel it would be the most wonderful moment to leave this world, when I am at complete peace with everything around me.


Digressions! Digressions!

So, after our rendezvous with the stars was left incomplete, we headed for the hostel with measured steps. We would be making an early start tomorrow. "Have to get up at 5. Get ready by 5:45. Gypsy arrives at 6"- made a mental note. The morning trip would be to a place called 'Bahmni Dadar' ( entirely Baekaa's idea considering he was the pro amongst us).
The chill was setting into the air and I suspected it was something around 5 or 6 degree Celsius. Thank God we had no way of being certain of the temperature!! That was one way of keeping warm. Ignorance.




to be continued.........................................

A Climber Growing Up My Wall

Last afternoon when I was free

Ambling aimless all by me

At my backyard made this find

Of one luscious climber tree.

Growing off one seedy crack

I did marvel at its knack

Of surviving the cruel heat

Running up an unseen track.

Tendrils hung in mystery curl

Every node in eager knurl

As if reaching out for help

To let its nascent leaves unfurl.

Taking moments off my praise

Reason intervened my gaze

I considered uprooting it

And put the trouble all ablaze.

Craven, it did seem at first

For this summer it won’t last

Though I pondered if the clouds

Would come early to its thirst.

My mind from me wanted to know

If some kindness I could show

To let this harmless climber live

And come back later, see it grow.

That very moment I could sense

Tender leaves wilt in suspense

No fruit or flower tempting me

That often makes for recompense.

And while I turned my back to leave

I sensed a feeling of reprieve

In unheard words of thankfulness

That I had let that climber live.

My tribute to Robert Frost and his poems which inspired me through the simplicity of their verse and gravity of their import. This was written a couple of years back as a humble homage.

photo:google-images

UTOPIA

Set me free from hungry hands

Set me free from mortal chains

Lead me to a better world

Where no tears tickle pain.

Let be this a piece of land

Where flocking birds do sing

In rain and sun and summer-time

In season of gold-harvesting.

Let us draw no battle lines

Amongst brothers, amongst creed

With enough to feed sustenance

Not a grain to appease greed.

Noble be the way of life

Let courage lead us to some place

Wherein shade of thunder sleeps

A dreamy damsel of solace.

Void or brimming, fast or slow

Death will still in ambush wait

Until then, let life be good

Until then, let love sedate.

Ode to Cleopatra

Her bend of nose like birds of prey

Her lips carved out of lust

Her mane the shape of setting sun

Her tresses dark as dusk.

Her secrets dwelled in wells of heart

Her eyes kept all to her.

Her smile concocted enigma

Which none could decipher.

Entranced, enraptured came to her

Men of Blood and Might.

Hearts on fire with a zeal

Desires burning bright.

The Bard could not in wildest dreams

Envision that his Muse

Would this day be robbed of Pride

Her legend made recluse.

Veils of mystery now to yield

The Mistress of the Nile.

A single Fading Coin to make

Beauty stand on trial.

Yet, with every equinox

When beauty is conceived

A smile resplendent with intrigue

I hear Cleopatra breathe.

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