Enlightenment - Part I

Before we start this story, i'd like to dedicate this story to Amanda Sargent, Vaidehi Limaye and Charumathi. They provided the inspiration i needed for this story by way of their deep and meaningful insights. Hats off to you ladies! Now, without much ado, let's...

The sky was blue, the coast was looking azure, and along the much famed and much abused surf of Bombay called the Marine Drive, love seemed to be blossoming in the air. It was spring and the trees growing alongside the coast were in full bloom, their gaudy pink flowers throwing out a heady perfume that made the setting even more romantic :)

Shankar too was one of those lovey dovey couples dotting the surf, only enjoying the presence of his beloved! Shankar had been dating Shalu for over a year now, and in this wobbly, unstable world of emotions, adrenaline and hormones, they'd been doing pretty good. Shankar was lost in his little romantic cocoon, content to remain in the warm glow of an embrace with his beloved Shalu.

Time seemed to be flying by in addition to a few squawking seagulls and the ever present crows along the coastline. Nobody seemed to care, but this couple couldn't give a damn either! They were content among themselves...

And then the whole picture seemed to burst apart at the seams! Images began to distort and explode into just flashes of colour and light, the surf seemed to rip itself apart and everywhere around them, it was the same. A riot of colours, people, buildings, the whole world was denegenerating into a riot of colours, and then a flash of bright light...

Shankar woke up sweating and palpitating, his heart was pounding so hard in its rib cage it almost seemed to be ready to explode! Shocked, disarrayed and disturbed, Shankar rubbed his eyes to adjust his vision to the dimly lit kholi's environs. The fever dream had come to an end. And that was something Shankar didn't like...

The environs, the setting and Shalu, it was only too idyllic a setting, only too fantastic to be true. Shalu was engaged to be married, but not with Shankar. Shankar and Shalu had parted ways after a year of togetherness for "reasons". Be it Shalu's abusive nature or Shankar's constant absence, we never know what dealt the coup de grace, but this "lovey dovey" couple had parted ways, in ways not too soft and sweet.

Back at BDD Chawl 10, kholi number 110, Savitabai was only too happy to see her son returned to "normalcy". Of course, what Shankar was going through, nobody ever knew, none except Chunnilal, aka Chandu, aka Dedh Shanya! But we'll come to them later, Savitabai's offering tea now!

Savitabai was Shankar's mother, and as would any normal mother be, concerned about Shankar's love life. She was a strict and traditional Maharashtrian when it came to moral code, but was willing to accept Shankar's "would be wife", if he brought a good girl home! Alas, Shalu wasn't quite Savitabai's idea of a good homely girl. Shalu too was Maharashtrian and came from somewhat similar backgrounds. Her father and Shankar's father worked together at the BMC, but Shalu had come only a year back, after her graduation studies from Pune.

Cutting a long story short, Savitabai thought Shalu was far too aggressive for a girl, and quite rightly if you ask me! Shalu was a very dedicated lover, and could mother Shankar through the worst of his nightmares, if only she'd be a little more docile and gentle. Shalu had a terrible whiplash like tongue, and she used it freely. sometimes it felt to have a sharp steel blade running right through the heart, instead of hearing Shalu scream and bitch!

This combined with Savitabai's constant nagging about Shalu, Shalu's parents forcing Shankar to a decision, and Shalu's whiplash tongue was a potent and deadly combination that could drive the best of men insane! Indeed, Shankar was in a state of turmoil and indecision...

Back at the kholi, not kholi number 110, but a dark and dingy one in shadiest areas of the city, this was a place near Bombay Central. A left turn from Bhindi Bazaar led into a series of streets named after a certain Dr.Foras. But this place was better known by another name, Kamathipura. A veritable city within the city, kholi after kholi brimmed with loose women, or women forced by circumstance to make the vulva available to any Tom, Dick or Harry or any other fucker for a price. This was the infamous "Street of a thousand whores", "Rand Bazaar" in Hindi, the famous "City of mortal delights" if a philosopher could term it.

But Shankar came her not for satisfying his libido's thirst, he sought a different pleasure, something far worse and far more addictive, damaging one for that matter. There are chemicals, there are compounds, some are natural, others manufactured but they all serve the same purpose. For a handful of rupees, you could buy freedom from reality and escape into the world of dreams and illusions...

Shankar found it cheap although the compound was an expensive derivative of poppy, the market name for it was heroin. Hard core druggies dreaded the sound of the word, and others you needn't even ask. Only the damned came here for heroin, only those who wanted to live in their dreams, and die in a world of limbo, except that you didn't die until your body twisted and convoluted in misery and pain and mental torture, slowly. It killed you, one moment at a time...

The sound of the name Chandu or Chunnilal might make you think he was a scrawny pimp who offered relief in the form of narcotics as well, but Chandu was a dreaded name out there in Kamathipura. He'd come to power after a sea of bloodshed, atleast that's what legend has it. His own brother had pitted against him, and Chandu finished him off with a knife, one body part at a time. Chandu hated guns, and he took out his victims with a knife, often leaving a survivor too mangled and distorted to rejoin the force against him, and also serve as a message to future would be "bhais"!

"Fuck off you mother fucking slugs and bastards, this is the MY world! And i'm no angel to finish you off painlessly and quickly if i find you to be on my wrong side!" was Chandu's watchword. And he did make sure his threats materialized. A bhai like this was feared even by the cops, specially when he looked into their eyes, with his one normal eye. The other had been gouged out by a huge scar which was the reminder of what a bear once did to him. What happened to the bear would make your guts turn, you get the point right??

Chandu ran a good number of brothels and a few of them had this hard drug heroin. Heroin was serious business, and had a few regular clientele. Of course, in a few months most of them would be found dead in a sewer or on the street drowned in their own blood or vomit. But the city had enough broken hearted souls and hardened hearts who chose to escape into the world of dreams, but for a moment's worth, to be at peace, to be with a family they could never have, to have a life they could never dream of in reality. Heroin kept them together for a miserable while, and once the effect wore off, it was time to inject again. So, you could have some dedicated clientele who'd live and perhaps even die in your little "cafe"!

It was three months since Shankar was into heroin, but then why would Shankar find solace in his dreams? Well, that was the only place he and Shalu could be together, forever. Of course subtract Shalu's evil tongue, Shankar's constant wandering, Savitabai, Shalu's parents, and the whole fucking world for that matter! They were together, as they'd been just a year ago, happy to be lost in each others arms.

It had been 3 hours since the last fix, and it was time to slip back into one. Life was far too empty to be lived, emptier than the eyes of a junkie who's lost his soul to heroin. And so, twisting and tying a length of rope around his forearm, Shankar constricted enough blood to make his veins visible, and also control the effect of the fix before the injection was completed. If you shot up before the fix was complete, you ended up wasting some good dream time, can't afford to do that can i? was Shankar's and every other such junkie's school of thought!

3 months ago Shankar and Shalu parted ways. Shalu wept bitterly and yet Shankar stood like a rock, almost unaffected by Shalu's pain. "I can't take it no longer Shalu, your vile tongue's worse than my mothers', and the prospect of facing you'll both together is something i cannot take! I'd rather break off from both of you'll and live by myself!"

"Can you live without me Shankar? Can you really live without my love Shankar? My parents will soon arrange a groom for me, and i'll survive somehow, but what about you?" Shalu asked almost piteously. It was hard to watch, even for me though i've seen things worse, a once loving couple breaking off is something even Time can't bear to watch.

And so, Shalu made her way home slowly, like a wounded animal limping off to its death. Indeed, Shalu was dead from within the moment Shankar spoke of the dreaded word "break-up". Before Shalu disappeared along one of life's curves, before she was out of sight, Shankar broke down in a weeping heap. He had no choice left with him. Shalu had been cruel on him, and so was his mother. They both loved him so much they could not see what they were doing to Shankar. And his once proudly beating heart sank into the depths of a depression, pumping only to live and nothing else!

Shikaar aur Shikaari...

Anyone who's ever been to the forest in the night, under a moonlit sky will understand what i'm talking about. The scene is set along the banks of the Waingunga river in the Seonee district of Madhya Pradesh, named Central Provinces until independence.

This poem was inspired by Rudyard Kipling, hats off to the man!

The central theme of hte poem is the conflict between man and animal, although the man considers himself to be just as much animal, as his comrades. A tussle between two Titans, both of great prowess and ego which ends in the untimely demise of one. But then, one's death means life for the other. It's a tale of shikaar in the true sense, and not guns and sealed beams and other shit! Read on further, go on...


Characters:
Akela - Chief of the Seonee pack. Old but experienced in the hunting strategy
Mowgli, Li'l Frog, Naked Wolf - The human child adopted by the Seonee pack
Brown Brother - Mowgli's "brother" and sire of Moti and Raksha
Mugger - A river crocodile. "Magar" in Hindi means crocodile

Under the light of the moonlit night, fall our footfalls ever so slight,
It was just a fruit falling, it was just an insect's might!

On Waingunga's loamy banks we wait,
For the one who's life's been sealed by Fate,
In the dense jungle of grass and reed,
Lurk the kill on whom we feed!

Hold still for now li'l frog, hold back your knife so bright,
Lest your blade catch the moonlight ever so slight,
And send them headlong, crashing away in fright!

Death looms in the air, Death looms upon us all
For easily swims Mugger, eager to see who's first to fall
Predator or prey, we're of the land
We're all the same to him, hunting along the river and sand

Said Brown Brother solemnly,

"Akela, behold that sambur stag in plain sight
Look at his form and grace, how great would be his might?
His antlers they cast a pall on the moonlight so bright
Weren't i Moti's spawn, i'd say i wouldn't dare him fight!"

Hidden in the tall grass, a pair of eyes began to gleam
Itching for the fray, trembling for the war scream
Smacking lips and trembling hand,
'Twas the li'l frog, the human in the hunter's band!

More wolf than man, he'd already show'd what he can
He'd slain Shere Khan, his mention struck fear among the Bundar's clan

"The stag'll die 'fore you'll in plain sight
waingunga's water'll flow crimson in the moonlight", was Mowgli the li'l frog claim
Scourge of the Red Dog, one among the Seonee pack of fame

All was not so quiet on the other side,
The weak and the young had nothing but to hide
Tush, tooth, talon or claw
Waited for them as was the jungle law

And yet one didn't bother as before,
Wading deep in the water, far from the shore
'Twas the sambur stag, Bhoora his name
Kaleeghatee was the place from whence he came

Kept he nibbling at the water lily,
What's there for me to fear silly!
It was barsaat, and he was in full rut,
Mightily muscled, and strong in gut

He'd once trounced Mugger with his hoof
Smashed a few teeth, and called his spoof!
Content he was nibbling the water lily,
For there was nothing for him to fear silly

Mowgli waded into the Waingunga, the reeds moved ever so slightly
And in the moonlight stood tall, the blade shining ever so brightly
And in the Seonee pack's sight, called out to Bhoora so proud of his might

"Kaaleeghatee's whence you came, but the Eternal Jungle's where you'll go
"Have you fed at your mother's breast? What prowess have you to show?"

The scream had shattered the silence of the night
'Twas the call for honour, the call for a fight

"Naked wolf of the Seonee pack, do you know who's it that you've dared?
I'll call your bluff, and run you shall tailless as you are scared!
My antlers'll rip your stomach, and splash gore,
Afore the moon's sigh, your remains'll wash ashore!"

With shattering roars, both combatants charged for a fight
Turbulent waters under Poornima's moon, reflected the terrible sight!

Mighty was Bhoora's charge, into Mowgli but he could not barge
Just as deft was Mowgli's knife, but could not score Bhoora's life
The water thrashed and splashed, thrashed and splashed!
And before long, Mowgli had a deep, telling gash

Bhoora's antlers managed a blow score
Thundered he with a mighty roar
Mowgli managed to stand, but only limp
Yet he stood tall, lest he been seen a wimp

Wounded as he was, he wasn't the one who'd die
Before his ears rang with his enemy's mortal cry
Jubilant in victory, Bhoora charged his last
To finish off the Naked wolf bloody and fast!

Muscles rippling and the head bent low, his antlers dripped Mowgli's gore
Charging with all his might, he charged toward the shore

As much in pain he was, his balls were in place and wits all right
And 'fore the stag drove in his killer charge, he made his strike
Deftly side stepped, and let the stag crash
And his knife carved the stag's throat in a slash!

Stricken, shocked and in pain, the stag could little but stumble
And in the reddening waters of the Waingunga gurgled his last mumble

The pack cried out in excitement and joy,
"Meat aplenty, and all the gore
Come along boys, drag the carcass to the shore..."

Mind over matter, relative Baa'nter!

It's been a while since i've had a conversation of this level; and a conversation in this context, i've certainly never had one! By the time you end reading this tale, you'd certainly think i'm slightly poorer of a few cents in my cranium up there. But then i assure you, the events that unfolded defied logic of any form that i'd ever seen!

And there and then it occurred, as do all good things in life, at a moment when you don't realize, and never expect. I found him on the street, patiently mulling and musing outside the Shalimar, unmindful of its surroundings, lost in its thoughts

"Peace be unto you my friend", quipped a voice distinctly different from the general humdrum around me. Intent scanning revealed nothing about the source of this voice, until it repeated itself again.

"Over here my friend, look below you..." and i looked down to see not a human but a being that i'd never seen before. Shaggy mane covered its body, and two twisted, massive horns protruded from a powerful skull. It looked a lot like Lucifer himself. Must've overheard me thinking of making a proposition on immaterial things, and wanted to buy my soul perhaps...

"It's not your soul i'm interested in friend, just a moment's worth of conversation! My days on this earth are numbered, and soon i shall be gone. I have no worries, for i have a lived a life long and ripe" said the Being in a flat voice, as if It was unafraid of dying.

"What's your name brother? Peace be unto you as well!" i replied as a measure of politeness, and intent on continuing this conversation.

"What's in a name? Call a rose by any other name, and yet it smells just as sweet" replied the Being. "Quoting Shakespeare!" i said to myself in the back of my mind, and then "It's not that i have a dislike for Shakespeare or something on personal levels, but i knew poets afore him who'd quoted verses and prose much better..."

I was certainly dealing with something on the levels of a Sphinx or a Yaksha! This guy's great with his knowledge, and his wit! "I'm known by a number of names, and Baa's what they call me around here..." the Being replied in a way i'm guaging to be the way It interacted with the world.

And here onwards started this most fabulous dialogue between being and Being...

    This world you know of, this world is old and mighty,
    Tread these grounds afore you are many. Some poor, some hoity toity...
    If you've got the time, i have the verse and rhyme
    I could sing to you a song, worth a penny, cent or dime

Before the time of Herakles, Darius and Alexander, roamed a race across Europe's heart
Swords were their strength, and swift was their dart...
They came here through the mountains, they came down in like a horde
No more of this vagrant life, no more of these mountains and tribes
We'll settle in this place, this's where our fortune's stored...

    I warred alongside them, i warred with the sword and fire
    Brought Hell upon the natives, and forced them to retire
    Beautiful was their civilization, beautiful was their land
    Reduced it we did, reduced it to shadows and sand...

i dared to ask,
"Is this Mohen Jo Daro that you speak of, the city of the dead...?"
"Where no living human dare tread...?"
Was my query pert and right
i wanted to know, to know His intellect's might
How much did He know, how far was He right!

    Pert was His reply,
    i know what i know, and what i know is right!
    Now listen carefully, afore i rejoin with the Light

Long after this war was over, came a warrior of the Light
Born to a royal king, born he was to fight
Yet not with a sword or axe, but wisdom and light!

    He carved out a path, he carved it right
    The path to eternal freedom, youth and delight
    By His sacrifice, He stood to gain
    The wisdom of the righteous, the escape from re-birth and pain

i served Him in his time, i served Him the best i could
For my efforts He rewarded me, with what He thought He should
"Immortality kisses the one, who'll show Desire nothing but disdain"
These were His words to me, the words i cherish till date
Holding them to my heart, i carved out my Fate

    Yet again i dared ask,
    "Wasn't He the Bodhisattva, Gautama Buddha was His name...?"
    "To show the path of righteous, is it not why He came...?"

Pert was His reply,
i know what i know, and what i know is right!
Now listen carefully, afore i rejoin with the Light!

    The time of wisdom had gone, it was time again for the dark
    The shade of peace was gone, the birds of carrion had begun to hark!
    We went to war, but this time we warred for defense
    Hordes poured in from the Hindu killer mountains
    Droves of horsemen had come in for the offense

On the sandy plains of the North, we engaged in war
Iron clashed with iron, iron cleaved flesh and bone
Mighty elephants rampaged, leaving behind only the dead and stone
We were a might by ourselves, you'd better leave us alone
This was our land, worth dying and killing for

    All that comes, must one day go
    And the clever enemy proved it to be so
    A flash of fire, and a clap of thunder
    Our men and our elephants, were rent asunder

Yet again dared i ask,
"Were they not the sons of Timur,
The sons of the lame, the sons of the Moor...?"

    Pert was His reply,
    i know what i know, and what i know is right!
    Now listen carefully, afore i rejoin with the Light!

Our time as kings was gone, alongwith the shadows and dust
As all that comes here, departure someday is a must...
And yet i survived, among the poets & among the scribes
Wit was my new weapon, sharp words were my jibes!

    'Twas now the golden age of talent
      Be it music, be it wit
      Rewards of gold, rewards of honour
      For the deserving one, for the best fit!

Music played so divine, music played so fine
The Gods would dole out for it, jugs of their wine
Wit ruled unchallenged, wit was the new name of jest
'Twasn't enough to be good, not if you weren't the best

    'Twas the court of the nine, the jewels of the crown
     Those who had them not, could do little but frown...

Yet again dared i ask,
"Don't you speak of Tansen, and don't you speak of Birbal"
"Master of music, & master of words"
"Weren't they quick of mind, weren't they quick as birds...?"

    Pert was His reply,
    i know what i know, and what i know is right!
    Now listen carefully, afore i rejoin with the Light!
   
Impatience was now drawing upon me, and time was to me dear
To cut this dialogue short, i spoke loud but with fear
   
    "Form of a beast, but tongue of a man"
    "None could last the race so long, the race you say you'd ran"
    "Tell me the truth, tell me who are you...?"
    "Show me your form, the one you know to be true!"

Laughingly replied Baa,
i am what i am, i choose what i choose to be
As a mortal, my true form you can never see                     
I've lived as a son of Man, i lived with the legends of yore
This form i don the last, afore i head for Hades shore

A time long ago, i know it not when
Received i a boon so great, a boon so strong
"Thou art deathless until you choose when..."
I thrived through the ages, i thrived for long
My life itself, became a part of the eternal song...

    "Then why's it that you walk on fours, and not two"
    "Be the timeless man, be the one that's you"

A curse by an insulted holy man, became my shame
I had to suffer for my sins, the holy man's blame
And so, i had to live the life of a goat
From a coat of gold & steel, brought down to a woollen coat!



At that moment, i know not whether 'twas the effect of the light on my eyes, or was it for real; i could see a single teardrop sparkling in Baa's eye. Baa was not completely detached after all.

What of my Fate, is my end anywhere near?
The butcher's axe, aye that'll deliver me my dear!

The sun had risen high up in the heavens, and the place was beginning to bustle with people, and it was a strange spectacle for a few. A few who thought i was a fool to be talking to an animal! An animal that was about to be taken away for slaughter!

The "owner" came up to me and asked, "What is it that you want sir...? You've been staring at my goat for a good while now! Is there anything that you want...?"

"Where did you get this goat my friend, where did you get your goat so dear...?"

"I bought him at a fair in Kashmir, aye he wasn't worth much i could tell you that. But his meat'll surely be tender! He'll cross over today, for there's a feast in the noon"

"Give him a clean finish, will you? That's all i ask of you. Let him suffer not for long..." was my last appeal to Baa's executioner, and with these words and a final parting look at Baa, i could see him smile, i turned my back around and retraced my steps...

Right v/s Righteous

This poem is dedicated to the hero hidden beneath a villain's tag. Wind back your clocks to a few milennia, and you can picturize this scene.

The sun is setting, and two great armies have gathered at a chosen ground, alongside their allies and minions alike. The warriors they say their prayers, write letters to their loved ones, sharpen their weapons, or perhaps just stay put waiting for the day to get over. But deep beneath all of them beats the same feeling as does their heart, the day that'll dawn tomorrow. The first day of the Mahabharat...

The philosopher, preceptor, and ally of the Pandav clan, Krishna walks out from his quarters in the camp, and is seen crossing over to the other side, none other than the cousins of the Pandavas, the Kauravas...
It's too late now for peace talks and cessation of hostilities, the weapons have now been drawn. All that could be done is last through the fray!

Among the Kauravas is a Pandava, a son of Kunti. He did not stray from the Pandavas, indeed he never knew his Pandav origins until recently. He is Kunti's first born, born to an unwed Kunti sired by the Sun God himself. He's known as Karna, the son of Radha, born to a humble charioteer...

The Kaurav clan too is just as anxious as the Pandav clan, waiting for the long night to end, and begin the fray!
Yet, Karna stands perplexed. The word we'd now use would be a conundrum. Karna's is to fight his own blood brothers, whose cause he knows to be righteous and just.

His true brothers never treated him as one of their own, that because they never knew him to be their brother. Jeering and sneering at every opportunity, and Arjun, the third son of Pandu vowed to meet Karna in a duel in the field of battle.

On the other hand, Karna now fought for a man who was a tyrant to the Pandav clan. A man who's 99 brothers never lost an opportunity to belittle the Pandavas, and seized the kingdom of the Pandavas by unfair means. But, this man who was called Suyodhan, and history would call Duryodhan was a kind hearted and generous soul who went out of his way to help the poor, and was the greatest supporter to Karna. Crowning him the King of Anga, Suyodhan ensured Karna was respected and treated as an equal amongst his adversaries.

Well, a lot of things happened that should not have happened, and here we are, on the plains of Kurukshetra, where this dialogue took place. Krishna had crossed over to meet Karna, to try and convince him to join the path of the goodness, justice and what was rightful.

Said the Omniscient Krishna to the valiant Pandava,

"O Kaunteya, thou art not Radha's sire
 O eldest Pandav, must you not wage this war for your brethren, for their rightful empire?
 Whomsoever's cause it may be, if it may be good
 It is for them that i have as a rock always stood"

"Leave behind your worry, leave behind your care
 For you leave not a good man, but a one who giveth not what's fair
 Aye, this is the path of good, and many a heartache must you bear
 But this is the path of victory, march along if you dare"

"Your friend, your benefactor has been greedy, and has been bold
 Is this something that needs to be to you told?
 His ambition is to claim all of Hastinapur as his prize
 And not offer his cousins a yard's length of land in size"

"Call upon him as a friend, call if you must
 But can you not heed, the call of the just?
 Treason to a traitor, that's no treason at all
 To stand strong with good, than with evil fall..."

"Your virtues, for themselves they speak
 You have never been the one who's oppressed the weak
 I call upon you to join those who're right,
 For their cause i call upon you to join the fight..."

Smiling bravely, for Karna knew deep within his mind, victory was certain for those who had Krishna for support. And alongwith this certain victory, was Karna's certain death...

"Born weren't we to the same mother?
 Yet why's it that You pit us against each other?"

"Born was i not by the grace of the Sun,
 But received i nothing beyond hatred and scorn
 Known am i not as the charioteer's son?
 An equal amongst the lowest born!"

"Received i aplenty many a curse and woe
 I shalt die at the mercy of my foe
 Werest i to leave behind those who did kindness show?
 Afore them my proud head would but hang low!"

"Sins and crimes aplenty i've sowed, and there'll more be to sow
 An evil man pitted against justice's how my name shalt go
 Of these things i care not a jot,
 As long as gratitude to a friend's well placed in my thought..."

"By the twang of my Vijaya, my bow
 Loyalty's a virtue greater than good, i shalt show!
 If righteousness told me against right must i go,
 Then let it be my destiny, let it be so..."
Karna accepted his Fate bravely, and went down fighting the Pandavas. He met his end at the hands of his arch enemy and younger brother Arjun, who launched an arrow that severed his proud head from his body, just as he was struggling to extract his chariot...

Karna knew Suyodhan's cause to be evil, yet he chose to stay the course for he valued greater the good that Suyodhan had done for him more than the evils that he committed against the Pandavas.

Song for Siddhartha

Prince Siddhartha, as well all know, left behind his title, lordship, and wealth to become a saint, in the quest for what we call today, enlightenement...

Having lived a life of luxury and splendour, and yet seeing no joy in it, Prince Siddhartha chose the path of renunciation. In the darkness of the night, when sleep shut the human eye, Prince Siddhartha silently crept out of his comfortable bed, knowing very well that once he embarked on this journey, he could never return back to his family, his inheritance...

Astride his favourite steer Kanthaka, unknown to anyone, Prince Siddhartha answered his call to Destiny, and finally achieved the status what we know him today as, the Gautama Buddha, the Bodhisattva...

Unknown to him, his charioteer Channa, his mentor and guide, watched him as Kanthaka pranced and circled around the palace gates thrice before taking final leave for good. We would like to imagine perhaps Channa sang a song similar to this as an ode to the future Bodhisattva...

In the darkness of the night,
You heed to destiny's call, o seeker of the light!
Leaving behind a child and wife,
Searching for an answer that'll fulfil this life...

Your path ahead will not be easy,
You have seen a life of women, wine and vice
Hunger'll stare you down, do not be queasy,
Begging and squirming for a few humble pice...

You know what's easy, you know what's right
You seek to challenge Fate's might!
May the Gods be with you in this fight
For you're the traveler of the night
Seeking to ascend from darkness to light!

Many afore you have this path tread,
What of their fate, people do dread
Carve out the path for all to see
Holy shall be thy name, glory shall be for thee

Kingship was in thy destiny,
A King's what you will be
Not just Kosala but all of Mankind you'll see...   

Your father tried his best,
To silence in you Destiny's unrest
But in the end his pain,
Shall be Mankind's salvation, shall be Mankind's gain...

To head out into the dark as you do, i could not dream nor dare,
For without me my family, would end up stark and bare!
With you may Fate, may Fate be kind and fair
And may you reach the hallowed heights,
The heights that even eagles don't dream or dare!

A glimpse into rural India - The yokel!

In order to write about someone, you need to do two things first and foremost. Stand in that person's shoes, and empathize with them, not sympathize. Often, writing a character sketch comes with the risk of becoming judgmental. Jugding someone based on what we understand is not at all justified, unless we're God, and i'm certainly not God! Anyways, now that i'm in deep water, i might as well swim with the sharks :)

It's been a while since i've been to this place, and the thought about writing about it did occur, but then Time and its endless tides buried it, and it would've remained there unless a fellow writer friend of mine didn't inspire me to take it up again. This time, as a character sketch!

How many of you'll have been to a village? By village, i mean a small settlement of humans far away from urban chaos, living a life of simplicity with little or no technical means. Of course, to find such settlements without electricity, concrete or running water is something of a rarity in rural Maharashtra. Nevertheless, the 'charm' or call it the 'bucolic lifestyle' persists to this day as it did a few hundred years ago!

Swargate at the wee hour of 03:00 AM

Hop into a bus at Swargate that heads for Gunjavane, and ask for the last stop. By bus i don't mean your AC Volvos or other modern monstrosities. The ubiquitous red and yellow known affectionately as'lal dabba', the State Transport (ST) bus is the lifeline of rural Maharashtra. I'm sure it's the case everywhere else in rural India, with some kind of bus service or the other. Coming back to the 'lal dabba', your co-passenger's bound to be a man wearing a white shirt and either a corresponding white pant or some other coloured trouser, or a loincloth! The head-dress would be a Gandhian cap which's an odd protection against the sun. I don't know what purpose does it serve, but it sure is worn by the locals. The Mumbai Police too has this cap for that matter!

Waiting till the End of Days!!

A rickety rackety affair is the lal dabba. Iron frames stuffed with coir or fibre or sometimes a bit of foam, covered with a rexine outer skin, peeling off most of the times, and a window that sometimes refuses to open unless Hercules himself comes down from Olympia and honours it!

You don't shut doors here, you slam 'em

The stops enroute your destination have funny names, or normal names that sound funny to you and me. Sometimes i do feel that living in my own land, i am as alien to it as much as a foreigner. Pennsylvania, Yorktown or New Hampshire are places we'd know more than some village just beyond the frontier land of Kalyan!! Speaking in a language that's foreign to my motherland, i take pride in the fact that i can converse with ease with a Caucasian even though i may never understand the plight of my rural brother. We are brothers born to the same mother, yet we both lead such different lives and never bother to even spare a thought about it.

Accents strange and bizarre play about as the waves on a rocky shore, and unless your ears are drowning in sound you call 'music', you'll certainly get a glimpse, small yet nevertheless a glimpse into the life of your rural kin.

As you peek out of the window if you're lucky to get one open, you'll see some sights that would leave your eyes slightly moist and a lump in your throat that refuses to die down. Rolling mountains, green meadows, vast treelines and perhaps a bird or two on a telegraph pole. Isn't this how it was all meant to be? Where did we falter, where is it that we went wrong, and brought upon ourselves the wrath of a juggernaut who'll die only when we cease to exist...

Bucolic, isn't it?

Was that the price we chose when we wanted 'better food' and modern 'amenities'...?

Come on now, quit being so pessimistic, and enjoy the serenity of the surroundings. Coming to the point of selecting Gunjavane, why are we going there? Well, it was the site of very many historic events, it was the capital of the erstwhile Maratha king Shivaji who rocked the Mughal empire from his roost atop Rajgad which is located at Gunjavane. Years rolled by, and the only difference between the people then and now is they wear shirts and trousers, live in brick houses, and claim with great pride, the presence of a relative in Mumbai or Pune. Yet, deep beneath the exterior beats the same simple heart that once pumped and bled for freedom from the grip of tyranny!

I could go on rambling and perhaps even overshoot Gunjavane and reach some other village perhaps, and the conductor calls out loud and clear "Wakey, wakey those among you'll who sleep.."

A devotee of Pandharpur

The paved tar road has long since given way to dirt track. No fault of yours for not knowing it, the bus would've rocked and rumbled even if you raced it on a Formula 1 track! Small dust clouds fly up when your feet hit the ground. And then you see him, under the shade of the lil' tea store looking as if he's expecting the end of days, or an absolution perhaps...

The man in question, and discussion

The eyes themselves they convey no emotion or feeling. Its as if you were staring at the ocean, they seem just as unfathomable even if you stare back for an eternity. Well, that's perhaps bucolic for you my friend!! Time matters little out here, and the only ruling factor is the season. Lives change dramatically if an expected rainfall did not materialize, or poured far too much more than was required. The people living here are farmers and our friend with them eyes as deep as the ocean is no doubt a farmer or someone who's livelihood is in one way or the other linked with agriculture.

Life's simple yet tough for those among us who choose to make a living off the land, err quite literally! Global warming, El Nino and La Nina are great words for us, and perhaps nothing more than jargon in our lives except when the traffic gets blocked in the city. Well, for our ol' timer and folks like him, they spell the difference between life and death.

Crop, credit, loan, daughter(s) to be married, the month end bankruptcy, alcohol abuse if any form a part of a vicious cycle which ensnares most people out here, and a dramatic change in the weather doesn't do them any good! Like i said before, my rural brother pays the price for my luxury...

Now you know why those eyes stare back emptily back at you when you look into them...

Time to move over amigo, the tea cup's long since emptied and we have a long way to go ahead. A day's worth of trekking, and hard climbing wait ahead for you. Hup, hup, hup...

Into the unknown...

Certain habits grow on to become addictions, and addictions are somewhat tough to get rid of. Let's just call this one of my addictions. I get pins and needles, and my hands begin to tremble whenever its been a while since i've written something, and automatically the fingers reach out for the Notepad program on Windows and the rest is history...

Speaking of addictions, i'm host a good many among them. Slave to my senses, you may say must be my vice. You aren't completely wrong if you say that :) But there's something i place much higher above than all of this. This is a vice just as taxing as the aforementioned were. A strain on the wallet, and on the physique. But then, i'm an addict, and this is my fix! Come along then reader, let's go on a trip!

'Twas a weekend just like every other weekend. Time for the fix! After a good bout of searching online, i came across a good source. "TrekMates trek to Kulang...", the word Kulang was enough for me to get hooked. Yes, i'm addicted to trekking and wandering in some of the most godforsaken places on Earth armed with nothing more than a camera! Why do i do this? I've asked this question to myself just as many times as people have asked me, and i have not a satisfactory response to give. Perhaps, its the thrill of the unknown, the fantasy of meeting like minded new people, the excitement on achieving something that was never done before, or perhaps a small measure of peace that all of us seek, and so few of us ever find...

I'd place my bets on the last option. The mountains have their own charm in luring toward themselves a disturbed soul. The attraction's almost lethal, like a moth drawn to a flame. Unmistakeably it draws its victim to its fiery bosom, yet the moth fears not death, but seeks to embrace the flame in eternal love. Ahhh, romance :)

So, where were we? Ah yes, gung ho toward Kulang indeed! The group was totally unknown to me, nothing new for me, i'm quite used to heading out with unknown people and returning home with new friends! And so my adventure began from Dadar, catching the last local headed to Kasara. For those of you'll who haven't heard of Kasara, its the last station uptil which local (read electric) trains ply, the rails ahead are used only by mail and express trains. I met the co-captain for the trek, Manoj Kalwar. Not even a minute had passed before Manoj entrusted me with his valuables to call someone at the station. Gosh, you're a trusting soul, aren't you?? Well, thievery never appealed to me, so lets just call it opportunity forsaken!! Of course he did return back in a minute, finding me watching gingerly over his valuables. The train arrived, we got into the train, the rest of the team began to pull in at diff locations and blah, blah, blah...

Wakey, wakey at 2:00 AM, it's Kasara! Fcuk, just when i was slipping into a nice slumber! From hence, there were jeeps to take us uptil the base village. Enroute, we stopped for some essentials, namely tea and a chance to take a leak ;) This was at a place called Ghoti. Sounds funny huh? All you Mallus out there, pat yourself on the back, for what seemed like the last place where i'd find someone speak anything other than rural Marathi, a Mallu had set up a tea store! Woo hoo Mallu, you make us southies proud!

Tea in Patiala pegs flowed generously down 21 throats, and not to mention a few crusty biscuits. Heck, the tea was too good for the biscuit for that matter! After what seemed like the equivalent of a quarter, we decided to get going. All the while, you would've been thinking we were asleep and relaxing. Wrong you were, i was sleeping and the others were singing and making merry. Well, i'll make merry or make love provided my batteries are charged just right!!

And so finally we reached base camp, Ambewadi sleepy drowsy me despite all the tea. General instructions and introductions followed, who am i, what am i, where am i, blah, blah, blah...

What's so great about this Kulang? What is Kulang? Kulang is a mountain fort in the Northern Sahyadri, and is a part of the formidable trio, Alang, Madan and Kulang. Bang opposite Kulang is Kalsubai, Maharashtra's highest pinnacle. Nothing so great about it, its an easy climb and the overall height is 5,300 odd feet. Kulang's slightly shorter at 4,820 feet but boasts of the highest climb from base camp to the mountain, and of course, sheer craggy cliffs lurk waiting for the careless trekker to lose footing.

This day wasn't clearly one of my best days, because i started out with a dizzy head and nearly lost balance while starting the climb. Nevertheless, the way ahead seemed much more stable, and i managed to hang around with the group. Enroute, we had to collect firewood. Why? Darling! Pizza Hut or Domino's doesn't provide delivery at such levels! So, we're cooking food, and we're cooking it on an open fire! Sure enough, we loaded our bags with the fuel and keep marching ahead. So far so good, and then came the chill, thrill or whatever ill you call it factor...

We were climbing up a steep flight of stairs carved off a rock wall when i suddenly felt something pushing me
toward the cliff!! FUCK!!! What's happening??? Realization dawned quickly thankfully! The stalks of firewood in my bag were poking out toward the rock face. These stalks were long and supple, and bent when i pushed myself up the stairs. "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction" said Newton a long time ago, and this is where he could gloat over his discovery! But this wasn't the time to celebrate science. I'm being pushed off the goddamn cliff man! The stalks were bending back into shape, and the resultant action, i was being pushed off. A fellow trekker volunteered to get the stalks out of my bag, and so the danger passed. Now i just had to lug the stalks up the mountain as i climbed. Climbing with one hand was far better than being pushed off handsfree!!

3.5 hours later, we summitted. Yay, the climb's over! Now what? The group breaks off searching for places, scenes or whatever that attracts their fancy and starts clicking their pics alongwith the same! Well, i ran a different course, and i had a telephoto lens with me (the only one carrying a 1.5 kg lens), and i set out hunting birds that called this place home.

Up in the mountain so high, there isn't as much wind as you'd like to think. It's rather still, and hence the rocks
up there still bear resemblance to something close to when they were formed. Maharahstra's plateaus are the work of passive volcanoes, and pieces of volcanic rock occur periodically across the Sahyadri. As for lifeforms, invertebrates would have been greater in number than the vertebrates. There were birds no doubt, but far and few and it required a bit of hunting to get to them!

Swoosh! Whoosh, Whirr! The birds were actually flying past me at touching distance! This sound was the rustle of their feathers! The world's fastest flying bird, the swift kept me pleasantly occupied as i tried time and again to capture this poetry in motion onto a frozen frame inside a black box!

Time passed thus and it was time for lunch! After lunch, a brief session of games served as our official ice-breaker, and God, it was FUN! Just as much fun as chasing the swifts! I had never heard of these games before, but they were really good! And our group leader Nilesh Patil surely knew just how to pull the strings right!

By evening, we were the best of friends, chatting away, poking fun as if we knew each other for years. How soon the human mind takes to bonding, doesn't it? All we need is just the right spark, the right person, and the right moment. The rest is magic! To be sharing personal details with someone whom you've just met a few hours before might sound rather odd to you. But then as trekkers, we bond, we share and we care, and we don't give a damn about secrets and shit like that!

And so, plenty of dirty linen kept the conversation colourful until sunset. Just before that occurred an incident that might appear somewhat funny to you, but i assure you, i wasn't pleased the least bit over the whole ruckus!

"MONKEY!!" The call went up, and at once dashed off 4 - 5 of us, including me toward the place where we'd camped for the day! We were camping in a cave, and our food, bedding and everything else of concern on a trek was in there. And a bunch of marauding monkeys found the treasury unguarded!

After a hot chase to the cave, we found our dinner missing! The monkeys had made off with the veggies we needed for the biryani! Aaarrrgh, you're soo dead meat monkey, lemme lay my hands on you, tonite we're cooking monkey curry with rice. And all of us agreed. Like hell, we had nothing but raw rice and spices to make do with for the night! What the fuck?

We found the trail of the monkeys, and we almost caught up with them, but they jumped down to a ledge below inacessible to us, and the bag of veggies was GONE! A big polythene bag full of veggies, GONE!!!

What now? Monkeys too far off to secure monkey meat, and no veggies! Well, raw rice and spice it is!

Post sunset and this 'dinner' was time for some ghostly stories. Legends and fables repeated over and over again over campfires and some songs kept us in good spirits. As for me, the full moon was just a day old, and i was busy romancing the moon with my cam!

Nights on a mountain can be chilly if you're not having the right gear. I had an old jacket, but was well covered in my sleeping bag. At dawn, 20 eager faces were awake before me to see the camera and my lens in action for sunrise. This place has some of the best views of both sunrise and sunset.

After breakfast and the ritual ablutions, it was time to move on. And we descended down, just as we made our way up, except that 21 strangers were replaced by 21 friends! And thus ended on a good note, yet another trek!

And yet again, another weekend, it'll be time for another fix. Perhaps another trek...?