En Route Paradise
Travel and tell no one, live a true love story and tell no one, live
happily and tell no one, people ruin beautiful things ~ Khalil Gibran
It's on this irony where I want to build
my story. On this quicksand is where I want to place my treasured
possession, in the hope it will fight all odds and remain my best memory
forever.
As the train galloped like a wild
pony in the jungles of Himachal, I moved ever so quickly to the dream
I envisaged. Destiny was waiting for me at the rendezvous. It's not the mere
conformity of regularity that I was breaking but the iron cords that
had bonded my dreams. Traveling away from the humid coastal lands of
Kerala through the spine of India embarked a quest of meeting my wildest
winter dreams. Winter wasn't the only foe I had to battle this journey, my
deficiency in Hindi stood like Goliath. But there was nothing that could hamper
me from traveling. A traveler finds his calling not in the confines of home
rather in the wilderness of his disquietude.
If it isn't by bus, it
isn't worth. That was always my mantra when it comes to traveling to Bangalore.
But bus operators don't have a big heart like Indian Railways. S6, 40. Nothing
special about it, but I love my numbers. Bangalore for me is
special, I look forward to every opportunity to visit. But this was not
just my first destination, it was the chance to see my brother's graduation. I
always believed that “Blood is stronger than water”. But he isn’t blood, he is
something more thicker than blood. I have seen him in close quarters since I
known him. To be the man he become, heeding to the higher calling when the
pastures were lush green is something that will speak for itself.
Two days at Bangalore means I
had ample time to look beyond shopping malls. With a Royal Enfield
bullet me and my childhood friend rode early into the morning to the outskirts
of Bangalore, with so many fellow riders challenging each other who will embrace
the first ray of sun. Nandi Hills stood couple of hours away from the busy digital capital of India. With its religious significance it was
never going to be deserted but then it was filled with software savvy heads
who needed solace. Nandi Hills like its name once meant is truly “Hills of
Happiness” And to savor this happiness there isn’t a better time than the
sunrise. To bask in the virgin sunrise along with the silver clouds is the
quest of every rider that refrain the early morning sleep. Maybe this was the
very thought that made the Tiger of Mysore, Tippu Sultan made a fort on its
peak. Tashk-e-Jannat, Heaven’s Envy it might have been. Maybe that’s why time
and gods conspired to not leave a stone upon another. But even the remnant
testifies the beauty that its name holds. I stood there in a river of fallen
lavender flowers with my camera to click probably the first of many sunrises in
this journey.
To travel the northern part of India
meant that I had to curb my appetite, especially beef. I went around Kerala
mess hogging beef every time I filled my plate. As I walked through the streets
of JayaNagar in my hoodie, I knew that I had passed the first test of cold.
Vajra Vayu, 4 A.M. That was all I had in mind as I made the walk back.
Go
Air! Yes, it was time to go air borne.
I loved airports and since I took my
first flight the obsession got real. Airports have plethora of characters to
fill a J K Rowling novel. And every character had a story to tell and I tried
face reading some as I munched on my extravagant masala dosa. But once I'm on
board, like my mobile, I'm switched off.
Delhi
Airport. To walk around the same place
my Dad worked years before was a dream come true. From Garden city to Capital
city. And all alone in the crowd. I couldn't have chosen a better day to reach
Delhi. It was the festival of colors, Holi. Airport staffs face adorned colors
of many shades as the codes of professional etiquette took a day off. And it
was time for my first setback of the trip. Terminal 3A was 8kms away from 1E.
That meant only one thing that I had to brace myself for the first Hindi
dialogue. Ola Cabs! I cancelled on two drivers as their Hindi couldn't come
down to my level and third guy whose face and car looked malnutritioned had the
willpower to decipher my gibberish. Zostel! That's the place I had my mind
drooling on ever since this trip was planned. Zostel, a backpacker’s paradise
where you meet people whose heart beat is in synchronization with the genre of
travelling. Zostel Delhi was nothing different, the place was in the busy
streets near New Delhi Railway station. The manager looked at me and said I
looked like Prabhu Deva. As much I didn't approve of it, I pleaded not to ask
me to dance. And in no time, I was down in the streets all ready to explore.
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| Jama Masjid |
Being Holi, I had to be careful not to be smeared with colors. The sight of my
Scottish roommate being bombarded with water balloons made my steps quicker
towards Connaught Place. Being a Monday and Holi meant that Delhi was asleep.
Connaught Place, Chandni Chowk, Red fort, Akshardham, Lotus Temple, Qutub Minar
all were closed. And I was kicked out from Jama Masgid for wearing
shorts. It felt more like Friday the 13th. I walked the streets of Delhi
disheartened and made my way to India Gate. Holi was the menu for the day
everywhere I went, be it the streets, India Gate or Lodhi Gardens. Speaking of
the latter, it had to be the surprise package of my Delhi visit. Lodhi Gardens,
was the tomb of the Mughal emperor Muhammad Lodhi and some more.
I saw the extensive array of Mughal architecture in my visit, every
monument had a garden attached to it and I loved it.
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| "Bhai ek photo?" |
I have heard about the
pollution in Delhi and now seen with my eyes. Lodhi Gardens stood as a breath
of fresh air for the Delhites. It wasn't just green, I could go flowery about
it but, na. The air was fresh, there were families playing cricket and there was
love in the air. Talking about love, I saw an elderly couple walking with arms
around each other. All I wanted then was something similar for me in the
future and a naughty young kid to photograph us for his Instagram feed like I
did. It reassured me that love isn't the naughty cuddling under the shade of
the tree but a silent procession in the garden. |
The Holi fever had died down by
evening and I was dying to get my hands on some Delhi food. But there was this
gentle whisper, "It's a long trip, you don't want to get sick" My
craving for travelling was stronger than food so I restricted myself to
Roti and Aloo Gobi.
"Prabu Deva, Had a good
day?" Receptionist asked with a smile. "Ha, Ha" I nodded as
I got on the lift. It wasn't just the Scottish boys in my room, there was
also a Brazilian couple. Whose name I had trouble pronouncing, they took me as
an ignorant fool. I had an early train to catch so I was swift in my
moves. That's when it felt like I heard squeaky rat voices. I looked back.
It was a reflex action and there was even a quicker reflex reaction as I
covered myself head to toe in blanket. It was squeaky but it wasn't rats rather
bunnies. I was not used to PDA's.
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| Tomb of Itimad ud Daulah |
Bhopal
Shatabdi! That's the train to catch if you
want to visit Agra. The earliest and the fastest train from New Delhi and with
food. As I exited the station I was covered by swarms of
rickshawalas. I had put on a stern look nodding off enquiries. Then
Noushad Khan happened! He looked at me and asked "Saab, Kaha jana
hai?" He had played the card and I had no option but accept
defeat. 600INR for a full day Agra Visit, Govt. fixed rates. Agra remains as
the epitome of Mughal architecture. Tomb of Itimad ud Daulah, Agra Fort, Mehtab
Bagh and Taj Mahal. Agra, all I ever knew about it was connected with the
marble wonder of the world. But that soon changed, I loved the Agra Fort the
best and the view from Mehtab Bagh was even more beautiful than the front view of
Taj Mahal. Mehtab Bagh, a small garden adjacent to Taj with Yamuna flowing
between them. The Taj Mahal was meant to be viewed, especially at night from
the pavilion at the edge of the pool in the Bagh. It must indeed have been
magical to view the Taj Mahal against a moonlight sky, with the reflection of
the mausoleum in the octagonal pool, the sweet smell of the white kamini
flowers and the song of the nightingale wafting through the air. Some sight it
had been! I thought sitting under the lonely tree near the mausoleum.
Restoration works are in place but damage done in my opinion is irrevocable.
The river is dead and the Taj is breathing its final breath. Noushad Khan rang
me, "Saab, Der ho rahi hai" I rushed my steps as he took me to a restaurant.
Bengali thali it was.
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| View of TAJ from Mehtab Bagh |
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| TAJ MAHAL |
40INR for Indians, 500INR for
Foreigners. It felt like day light robbery. But now as I write this down, I
feel it’s fair considering the currency advantage they have. Taj is dying but
it’s still a beauty. The intricate marble inside the tomb, the cold touch of
white marble. The aura around the place can be prerogative but I found
it magical. Agra fort, it’s a red stone enclave with many structures inside. It was
here Shah Jahan was kept as bondage by his son and there are fables about how
he viewed Taj Mahal which he built for his eternal love.
Noushad Khan took me around the
market before he dropped me back to the
station. Agra is everything Mughals wanted it to be and even
after centuries it sadly remains so. Apart from the UNESCO listed monuments
there is nothing pleasing to the eye, one of the unclean places I have been.
Maharana Pratap ISBT. After all my
diligent efforts to cut short my expense I made a blatant mistake which
cost me around 2k. A simple sleeper ticket from Agra Station to
Dehradun could have sufficed my quest.
ISBT
Dehradun. 4.10AM, 11°C.
Winter has come! I stood there
at the bus station, with a cold brain which had stopped functioning. As
the last batch of familiar faces disappeared into a Vikram auto, a cold sweat
of fear ran down my spine. To a place which is 12kms away and check-in not
possible in another 4 hours, I had to fight cold, fear and rickshawalas.
Harshit, my Airbnb host responded to my plea, "Come along man, no
issues" It was everything I wanted. Then came a Punjabi Auto Bhai, the
first among many Punjabis I acquainted in this journey and took me Gloraj.
Dehradun was not planned to be honest
but I made the visit because I loved Harshit's place. It was an
old British cottage that overlooked the mountains with a beautiful
garden, something you see in movies. And the people too, Harshit, his
dad and his mom made me feel like home. Even Sharmaji who stayed the room near
mine was polite, his green gypsy was something I envied all my days there. He
narrated his solo trips to Kasol, I saw the excitement that was still burning
in his eyes. Harshit's mom reminded me of my favorite teacher and the fact that
she herself was a teacher made the resemblance fair. "Alen, do you like
Aloo Paratha?" Yes, aunty. I like it. Musti, the white bull dog wagged his tail
as if it was for him. I hated his Barcelona jacket. Harshit and I had
a great chat, he drew a blueprint of stuff I need to do before he
left for his Vipasanas.
Mussoorie
Diversion, 10.00AM
It's from this diversion buses from
Dehradun takes the uphill climb to Mussoorie. And I was lucky
enough for the first time as a car stopped at my arm
distance. Hitchhiking is not a repeated process, you know it inside when to
stretch your hand. There were instances I walked for kilometers. It’s trusting
your gut and for the first time did the same. And in half and hour I was at
Mussoorie. Its here I saw my first glimpse of snowcapped mountains. I had one
full day at Mussoorie and I had to visit two places. George’s Everest and
Landour. I stood strong all this while when taxiwalas charged inhumane rates
and I always chose to walk away. But today, something inside made me succumb
and fall into their hands. Fate you might call it. Yes, I agree. If it wasn’t
for that I wouldn’t have been seeing the Himalayas. George Everest was largely
responsible for completing the section of the Great Trigonometrical Surveys
(GTS) of India. His house and office still stood tall facing the Himalayas. I sat on the mountain top with the chilly wind across my face. Even with three layers
of clothing, cold sneaked through.
Mr Rajput took me to the company
garden. I love gardens and I try to visit one everywhere I go. The effort to
keep them fresh is commendable. And I bid adieu to Rajput as I decided to walk
to the Mall Road. I walked past the Christ Church to the Tibetan Street, I had
to rush my steps if I have to reach Landour in time to see the sunset and be
back at Picture Parish to catch the last bus to Dehradun. It’s a steep climb
from Mall Road to Landour and I found myself often sitting at the steps of
shops catching breath. Landour, a small town in Mussoorie with missionary
hospitals and military architecture. For all that it had to offer there was
nothing that stood close to the sunset. I could have stayed there forever but
the temperature dropped and my bus would leave in half an hour. I sat in the
bus with a couple hoping they wouldn’t been as passionate as the Brazilian
bunnies. They weren’t, they were even steamier! But the nature was kind to me as
it veiled the day.
Dehradun,
8.00AM
All I remember was reaching my room
late. Harshit mom had vainly knocked on my door many times to call me for
dinner. This has the best sleep I had so far in the trip and well needed one.
Now I just had a day to visit Dehradun and to visit my friend’s family before I
head to Shimla. Aunty had already prepared my breakfast as I went all geared up
for the new day. Musti seems to have grown impatient since Harshit left and
dropped his Barcelona jacket. I guess, hatred is contagious.
This might be the first place I left
a part of myself. I wanted to ask aunty to pose for a photo with me but I just
couldn’t. The story is the same even if it’s a photo or letting someone know I
really want them to know. It’s the same.
Robber’s Cave. I had no idea of what
was there, just the name had me going and I was looted mercilessly by a cruel
crook. 30Mins, 300INR. But all those thoughts just vanished at the first dip in
the cold water of Robber’s Cave. Two huge rock formations and there is one arm
distance walking space between the two where cold water flows from the top. I
walked between the rocks barefooted in the water of crystal pebbles. All I
wanted was to be there all day but had to rush back to Mr. Greedy Greedyson.
New Theological College Dehradun.
This might not take much time, Hi Uncle and Aunty. Bye! 30Mins top. I had to
see them because Mr Canadawala was so adamant I had to meet his parents. All I
remember was Uncle taking my bag to the guest room and demanding me to cancel
the tickets. I was not given an option and my Shimla plan had to wait. A part of
me rejoiced as I was speaking Malayalam to my heart’s delight after many days.
My daily quota of Malayalam was restricted to 10mins I talk with my mom. I
stayed the night with this blessed family and attended another graduation. Like
Steve Jobs this was the closest I have come to graduations.
ISBT
Dehradun 5.00AM
Queen of Hill stations via Nakan.
There is an alternative way via Chandigarh but via Nakan the journey is
thrilling. Small roads that hug the mountain closely that bus can just scrape
through. This was my longest morning ride but I had homemade sandwiches to make
me satiated. Shimla stood 7000 feet above sea level and for someone who is
afraid of heights this is too much to comprehend. Shimla Mall Road has to be
the cleanest place I visited in this entire trip. Not just clean, but “Monica
clean” The Ridge, The Christ Church and The Scandal Point all were in the same
stretch. Christ Church is the second oldest church in North India. And from the
time I had planned to visit Shimla, The Scandal Point was something that made
me surprised. The place where the Patiala King who eloped with Viceroy’s
daughter came to be the famous scandal point. I continued walking down the Mall
road that’s when I came across a huge LCD screen in which Ravi Shastri was
commentating. I was cut off from everything; Arsenal, Test Cricket and
everything I loved except travelling. I looked up and saw the Jakhu Temple but
had to rush back to the bus station. Shimla didn’t offer much to me except the
cold breeze and the hot soup.
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| Zostel Manali |
ISBT
Manali, 4.00AM -4°C
I had prepared my mind and body to
push harder and it surprised me every time how much strength I could muster.
Temperature my mind can’t comprehend, let alone body. I walked 3kms with a 15kg
rucksack along the Old Manali Road to the Manu Temple Road. Clearly numbers
weren’t on my side and even with Google Maps continuously guiding direction my
frailities in Geography meant I was going around. My breath got heavier as I
made every climb and fell on the doorsteps of Drifters Café. Dogs might have
sensed my fear as they all started howling making the already cold night
chillier. That’s when I looked around and the saw snowcapped mountains in the
moonlit sky. These are the things you look for when you leave the confines of
comfort. I finally reached Zostel Manali after calling the manager for
directions. He gave me two blankets and showed me the common room.
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| Skiing |
8.00AM. “To awaken quite alone in a
strange town is one of the most pleasant sensations in the world. You are
surrounded by adventure” Honey Ginger Lime! I had the first one and there
wasn’t anything else I wanted more. It was on that dining table I met all those
wonderful people. Manali suddenly became a lot dearer since I met them. Punjabi
acquaintance batch two, Su and Mu. And we three went to Solang Valley. Mu is a
masterful bargainer and how he convinced the taxi driver who asked 1200INR to
accept 600INR is something I will never understand. Me and Su were waving down
at our Savior. We were all geared up to finally see snow. I hoped the snow was
as white as it was in my dream. As the car slowly reached Solang, my excitement
crossed all boundaries. I walked heel first into the snow carrying my skiing
blades. Yes! I was going to ski. All this felt like something that I daydreamed. Mr.
PK, our drunk ski guide gave me crash course in skiing in five minutes. I was
like, that’s it?
“PK Bhai, PK Bhai Haath de do" He was drunk but he had
a good sense of humor. He lifted me up and I fell down again. And with my face
on snow, I learnt one absolute truth that it’s not easy. It was more falling
than skiing but yeah quite an experience. I quickly removed my skiing blades and fell into the snow. I saw people making snowman and throwing snow at each
other. I had none but it never bothered me. I rolled in snow like my Doberman
rolls in our lawn. The valley was like a big fair, it didn’t have fancy lights,
colorful balloons or even music. It was just white all around and that was
enough to make it beautiful.
Su and Mu went back to Zostel and I went to Vann Vihar,
relaxing and checking out the photos I took. "Which is that
camera?" I saw a young girl coming my way asking this. Alya, a DU student who
was visiting Manali with her mom Shiva. Soon aunty too joined and we spoke for
2 hours straight and about so many things. Punjabi acquaintance batch
three. We exchanged numbers and left. The day was getting better
every passing moment.
I had no way but have a hot soup as the cold was getting to
my soul. And I had to go back there for another soup in mins much to the
waiter's surprise, I met this another group of travelers and we hit it on
instantly. We walked through Old Manali Road window shopping.
Zostel Manali, 10.50AM
"Ready or not, we will start going in 10mins"
Shashi yelled. And poor guy Ankur who just checked in had no option but to swallow
the French toast. Zostel gang decided to do the long trek to Jogini Falls.
This was by far the best trek I took. 4 hours, it had pine forest, hills
covered with snow, withered apple trees, barns, streams that started from
glaciers above, friendly dogs accompanying us, vertical risky snowy terrain and
finally the water falls. The water was so cold that a dip in it would
freeze your brain. We all just sat there looking at the mountains
silently. I was starving that's when the gujju in our gang offered me some
Gujarati snacks. It was an explosion of extreme flavors. Sweet yet spicy. The
next trek was to the Vashist hot springs. And the dogs continued following
us, every dog in Himachal looked like wolves with their heavy fur. I
sat inside the temple as everyone went inside the mandir. And the irony
was people were more interested in taking selfie's with American girls in our
gang rather than praying. We went down Mandir road had hot momos and maggi, I
had totally forgotten that I had to leave for Dharamshala at night. And as
we all rushed our steps to Mall road, Baba sprained his ankle. He
climbed the hill but sprained his leg on level ground. We had to call a
taxi to reach Zostel. I took my bag and went to have my final honey ginger
lime. I had fallen for Manali and all my being wanted to stay here. And
somehow it slipped out of my mouth, "I don't want to leave" And
all I could remember was the guys saying cancel the tickets and Karan was
like "Dude, I have to leave now, I have paid for the room. You can stay
there" Su convinced the manager and for the first time I cancelled my
plans. I went for a walk, met the soup guys again. We all went
to Hadimpa Temple and even had the worst South Indian food together. We planned to
visit somewhere together.
Manali Mall Road, 10.30AM
Jagga Falls, it was the taxi driver's idea and we were
all just tagging along. Hindi songs, Tamil songs were going around in tandem.
Jagga Falls was a good 40 kms away from Mall Road and we visited Naggar castle
on the way. Jagga Falls was beautiful only in the figment of driver's
imagination. We sat on the wooden plank near the falls sharing silence and
soon a thali. 4 of us shared the thali sitting nearby the falls and
was arguably the best meal at Manali. The traditional bread Siddu, Nan
and Rice. Manali gave me so much in terms of experiences and
stories. We headed back to Manali, my bus was at 6.30 to Delhi. I had
fallen for Manali, even if I don't step my feet there again I wouldn't be sad.
For I had already made enough memories.
ISBT Delhi
8.00AM
Shashi and Lakshya left as I waited for my cousin's
car. I was still hungover on the intoxication of Manali even when I was
replying my cousin’s questions. My train was at 1.30PM. From the cold mountains
to the dry hot sand beds of India. I sat in the train with my earphones with a
heavy heart like a kid who lost his favorite toy. I had fallen for my foe I feared
this trip, winter.
Ujjain,
Rajasthan and Gujarat
I covered some villages in these area and it was an
experience different from everything I had till now. A reality check that made
me feel like a king even with all my needs. Water that tastes like rust,
temperature that can tan black itself, electricity and toilets a distant dream
and more importantly the standard of education. While I was traveling in a
local bus, I saw this little girl with her question paper and I asked for it.
10th Standard English Annual exam with MCQs, which normally a 5th
grade student in Kerala would comfortably answer. Gujarat is ---- state. And
options were funnier than Sunil Grover’s jokes. I had enough wheat and potato
that even the sight of ripened wheat fields made me sick. But then I saw a little
tribal girl running between them, whom I had met a day before. I waved my hands
to come along and she stopped there laughing like I have never seen a girl laughed before.
I clicked the best picture of my trip. I wondered if I had made a girl smiled
like the way I made her, I guess I might have. But even then I never saw it, I
have heard it but never have I seen it. Then she stood there smiling like a
princess. 38°C was too much for anyone but for someone who just came from -4C
was unthinkable. I spend 4 days in and around living a simpler life. Sleeping
outside, bathing outside from a hand pipe. I slept off under starry skies
trying to make out constellations.
INDORE
TRIVANDRUM EXPRESS
The dawn was here and the dream I didn’t want to wake up was
over. I sat there in that AC coach thinking it was good that I didn’t book
flight. I had some time to sort myself. I met two mothers in the coach, they
fed me well and taught me so much about life too. We also had our fair bit of
banter too.
This was a journey of extremes, from snowcapped Himalayan
hills to hot sand beds of Rajasthan, ripened golden wheat fields to withered
apple orchids, hot and sour soup to cold water. I saw the clear skies with
constellations I have no clue about but I found shapes that had the same like
my dream. I could fulfill my lust to see snow and I saw it here in the
boundaries of Hindustan. I can go on. I was a bloody hippie with broken Hindi,
a teenager who had won and lost in love, a poet who was inspired but short of
words. I lived them all and maybe more.
I might have second thoughts or even look at this in a different
perspective after some years. But right now, this is the truth I cherish. My
heart is brimming with thoughts that I hadn’t purposefully not written. This
makes me go back to the quote I began with. “… People ruin beautiful things.” I’m
not ready for that yet. I guess I will never be ready. So let them have an
eternal dwelling here in my heart.
I’m not yet sober, my friends have already had an earful. Yet
it feels like I have a million stories more to tell. Forward! Forward! That has
to be the war cry now. AND FORWARD I GO!
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