Subtler Nuances of Life

MacLeodGanj And The Monk of the Himalayas..

2016-07-24T13:47:00.002-07:00

After the Kashmir jaunt, there was another itinerary on my list and I was not going to miss it - Dharamshala in Himachal Pradesh, and not too far from Amritsar. The abode of the Most Holy Dalai Lama!
So one Saturday when I was off work I proceeded to the Amristar Inter State Bus terminal. I had enquired earlier, and the bearded Sikh had informed me that there was just one direct bus to Dharamshala from Amritsar and it was a Himachal State Transport bus that departed daily evening.
I noted that the Amritsar Inter State Bus stop was sanitised like the bus stands in my home state, a far cry away from dirty, infested bus terminals of North India usually packed with beggars. The Golden Temple effect I guessed. I recoiled at the memory of the dirty, heavily congested bus stops that I had experienced till then, especially the one at Jammu.
While on the bus I noticed there were two foreign couple seated some seats behind me, en route to the same destination.
One was a young man - woman hippy couple. The brunette was short and slightly built, with very curly dark hair spoke fluent English, though she she seemed more European than American or British, while her bespectacled companion kept mostly to himself; and the other was a pair of well built, sun tanned young men who looked Spanish, but seemed to have travelled from Australia. They were travelling all over the world picking up temporary janitorial jobs as they moved, to handle their daily expenses, I came to know from their idle banter.
One of the hippy men asked the brunette if the companion was her husband, but the woman replied matter of fact that they were not, but that is what they posing as to avoid being lynched by the "moral police", she added with a laugh!
Their talked moved to their experience in India, and the brunette remarked that India was so many countries rolled into one - with deserts, beaches, snow capped mountain peaks, forests, dense cities, backwaters, palaces and temples. To me that seemed to make sense and I agreed how true that was!
When we reached Dharamshala a good eight hours or so later, it was pretty dark. I came to learn that Dharamshala was actually a commercial centre while the Dalai Lama and his Tibetan followers actually resided a couple of kilometres on the upper reaches of Dharamshala near the foothills of the Himalayas, a hill station with the anglicised name of MacLeodGanj.
Since it was pretty late, I decided to put up at a hotel and leave the sight seeing for the next day. From Dharamshala I took a cab and asked the driver to take me to a not too expensive hotel. After a twenty minute ride we pulled up in front of a modern building that was built on a cliff overlooking the valley below. Two young locals arranged a single room for me from where I had a breathtaking view the twinkling lights of MacLeodGanj, the deep valley below and a snow covered peak rising above it.
I was feeling cold and got one of the young chaps to get me a bottle of gin from nearby bar. I got a little drunk and then faced a unique problem. I was smoking heavily and to keep the air moving and prevent being suffocated with the cigarette smoke, I had opened the ventilators above the windows, and when that didn't make it any better, put on the overhead fan as well.
The temperature outside was sub-zero and after a wash in the lukewarm tap water in the bath, I was literally freezing. Having heard of hypothermia and frost bite, I was not willing to take any chances. I put on two shirts and my jacket over it and slept with my socks and pants on. That make me warmer and I dozed off. A sight for sore eyes!
The next day I walked from the hotel up a steep incline towards MacLeodGanj town, which was literally nothing much but a few shanty buildings on either side of the road, with old wizened Tibetan women sitting outside, knitting woollen sweaters and socks, the men selling Buddhist mementos in improvised stalls. I noted one particular seedy building with a sign outside "Massage Parlour". Aware of the real purpose of massage parlours in Nepal and Thailand, I was a bit intrigued by the sign but didn't allow my curiosity to get the better of me and I moved on.
As it was already lunch time I decided to have lunch at a Tibetan eatery a ordered some soup and an unpronounceable dish whose name I didn't grasp. It was nothing to write home about except that it was heavily laced with herbs and spices with floating boiled chicken morsels that reminded me more of medical tonic than food. Guessed it kept the Tibetan warm in the cold weather.
Since I had nothing much to do I decided to walk up the few kilometres up a steep incline towards what was Upper Dharamshala. I enjoyed the crisp cool fresh air as I walked up and decided to have a quick omelette and noodles at a small wayside eatery intriguingly called "By Mistake". Well, it was "by mistake" that I had come across it in the first place! I noticed the same foreign couple who I had met in the bus walking up the mountain track behind me and the young woman who seemed to recognise me, smiled and yelled a "Hallo". I waved back.
It was there I met a young fellow traveller who accompanied me all the way up the the way up to upper Dharamshala. I welcomed his company and we started chatting about nothing in particular. It seemed he was originally from Himachal Pradesh but worked as a dairy engineer in Maharashtra, and every once in a year returned to Dharamshala and MacLeodGanj to have a walk up this very same mountain path,
As we made our way up, he relented to my request of couple of snaps of me against the breathtaking background of pine trees and the valley below. At one point we came across an old Buddhist monk with a walking stick trudging the way down. The old monk was taken aback when I asked him if I could take a snap of him with me. Nevertheless he nodded, and my friend took snaps and I reciprocated in kind. The monk understood English and we said our Thank You's before moving on.
As we made our way to the end of the trail, I noticed a couple of brand new cars parked on either side along the way, in the middle of nowhere and gathering dust. Seemed like some people had decided to visit but then decided to stay on, taken away by the rustic charm of MacLeodGanj!
At the summit we had our reward of hot piping tea and my companion decided to part ways with me as he had made up his mind to climb the forbidding hill that lay ahead with no visible way up. He pointed to a small temple at the top with a fluttering saffron flag atop. My friend said he was going to climb up all the way and take blessings of the gods. He was already breathing heavily but he had made up his mind to climb all the way up.
When I returned to MacLeodGanj, I did the usual tourist thing and visited the Dalai Lama's Buddhist monastery, the de facto capital of the Tibetan government in exile.
Prayer time was over and I entered the heavily guarded monastery teeming with Tibetan monks after a careful body check by Tibetan security. Nothing much to remark except I noticed that the sanctum sanctorum had piles and piles of Swiss chocolates and sweets neatly arranged into small mountains untouched by man or animal. Enough for the monks to survive a siege for months in case there was one! The chocolates were gifts by foreign well wishers and some even had unmoved tags saying "Gift from Germany by ..." etc. The Tibetan cause seemed to be popular across the world, cutting across nationalities.

On my way back to Dharamshala by bus to Amritsar via Pathankot, I was caught by the irony of Kashmir and MacLeodGanj, just a few hundred kilometres from each other - one, where a people complained of being subjugated by their government, and the other where refugees subjugated by their own government, had decided to call home!

Socialist, Secular and Democratic Any More?

2015-10-20T01:54:00.000-07:00

When I was in Kuwait several years back, I wrote an email to a friend with the following content. I came across it recently and thought it would be fun to retrospect on it. However it made me think about something else too.

Every expatriate in Kuwait has some grouse against their Kuwaiti masters. They summarize:

Belief: Islamic countries have very tough laws. Arabs are very self disciplined.
Expatriate's interpretation: Kuwait's laws are made for expatriates, to protect Kuwaitis. The Kuwaitis have no law unto themselves. The more things come under the ban the more they thrive in secret.

Belief: Islamic law comes down heavily on those who pursue the three vices.
Expatriate's opinion who spent some time in a Bahrain office: That makes places like Bahrain and Nepal all the more a favorite getaway for the rich Arab where all three vices are take place with the knowledge of their Islam patrons back home.

Belief: Kuwait being very rich can afford to provide a lot of free public services.
Expatriate's interpretation: Everything is designed keeping in mind the welfare of the Kuwaiti. Land phones which Arab locals frequent are free. Mobiles which are more of utility to the expat are too expensive to keep; even incoming calls to mobiles are charged.

Belief: Since there is no politics in Kuwait and political parties are banned and the power of the State is supreme, there is no place for corruption.
Expatriate's Interpretation: The vice of corruption is practiced by individuals under a system called "vaastha" or influence. For example, if an influential Arab has powerful links in the government power structure, he can manipulate them to suit his needs.

Whitewash: Kuwait is a lot more freer in than many other Islamic countries.
Expatriate's opinion: Expats can own utilities such as taxis or visa sponsorship only under the patronage of a Kuwaiti. The Kuwaiti gains by every entrepreneurial move of the expat.

The English daily, The Kuwait Times that I used to frequent (it is free) reveals how self indulgent the Kuwaitis are. Editorial headlines scream such silly questions like: What would we do without our Chicken? (they eat it for breakfast, lunch and supper) What would we do without our housemaids? (Housemaids are the most exploited lot in Gulf countries, working almost 24 X 7 hours and cater to the whimsical needs of lazy Arabs who practically do no work and plead stressful lives as an excuse)

Germany too has some things in common with Kuwait. Both are very ethnocentric and cannot comprehend an alien culture and are more of a closed society. But while Germany thrives on its technical expertise and skilled manpower sources, Kuwait exploits some silly black liquid deep under it's soil.

Belief: Ramadan is a period of penance and of self cleansing for the Muslim Arab.
Expatriate's interpretation: The spirit of Ramadan is self-restraint. But when they do not want others to drink or eat during the ROJA, that very spirit is broken.

That makes me think, if our government says a certain item is holy to a section and others who don't feel that way too have to bow to the diktat, are we in any way better than these Arab nations known to be among the most uncivilized and undemocratic? I am not asking any questions, nor giving any answers to any questions. But can we call our nation democratic per Se?

Party Yuh Hi Chaalegi!

2015-03-20T15:37:00.001-07:00

I had reached Srinagar by air, but I decided that my return trip would be by land to Amritsar via Jammu and Pathankot. I had decided to travel overnight. The journey turned out to be more interesting and dangerous than I had bargained for!
When I reached the Tourist Center, from where all state run buses run to Jammu, I was dismayed to find they ran only during the day. But as somebody pointed out there were plenty of private vehicles that would take me to Jammu for half the fare. There were all sorts of vehicles from Srinagar to Jammu - Tata Sumo, taxis, SUVs - and Tempo Travellers (a cross between an SUV and a van). They ran on a share basis, which meant that you shared even the taxis with other fellow passengers.
I decided not to take the Sumo or taxi, which I felt would be very uncomfortable if jammed with passengers. Instead I decided to take a Tempo Traveller. It would leave in another half an hour at 7 pm, and reach Jammu at dawn said the young driver who was incessantly hollering "Jammu! Jammu!". And the fare was reasonable. I preferred the Tempo Traveller since it's impossible to cram it with more than 11 people and the seats were comfortable so that you could doze off at night with the vibrations minimal.
As soon as we got the mandated 11 people and I handed a couple of 500 rupee notes to the driver, we were off. I noticed that the Kashmiri driver was very young, who just seemed to have got his driver's license, but watching him navigate left me no doubt of his driving prowess. It soon got dark and outside it was pitch darkness. Among our passengers was a young Sardarji who wore a baseball cap over his patka. The Sardarji was a jovial type and he kept the rest of us passengers entertained and had us in splits with his offhand jokes. He even had a mock conversation with his girlfriend on his mobile and made a public parody of their love talk. There was a long conversation with her on the topic of mobile phones and prepaid cards. When he told her over the phone that he had always believed her father was a doctor, but not of the veterinary kind, he had all the passengers laughing till they were literally ROFL.
The driver was playing Hindi and Urdu songs on the inbuilt music player for quite some time now. I recalled some of them from two decades back- played by Muslim paan thela wallahs in rural Maharashtra. The van picked up a few travelers en route, including some people who seemed to be apple merchants and the Traveller was properly packed to capacity.
The young driver picked up his first cigarette and was soon merrily puffing away and began chain smoking. Just a few hours later we were stopped by some army men. The driver was asked for his identification papers and driving license which he nervously handed over to the army man. A torch was shone into each of our faces through the driver window, and sensing trouble I too kept my identification papers ready. But I guessed some money changed hands and soon we were off. Since Srinagar was far behind us, I thought the rest of the travel would be untoward. How wrong I was!
After this adventure, the young Kashmiri driver, again chain smoking, had the music player back again at full blast. The Sardarji got restless and shouted to no one in particular to stop smoking. Sardarjis as a rule don't smoke and their abstinence has religious intonations. The driver paid no heed. It was my turn to complain. I asked the driver to lower the volume since the incessant music was blasting my eardrums. He lowered it for a few minutes but put it to full blast again. All of us passengers who were desperately trying to catch some sleep but were hapless.
At around two in the night I got up to find that the vehicle had stopped and the driver was having a heated conversation with somebody. It turned out that they were policemen who had stopped the vehicle. A long line of truck laded with goods were parked all along the road. The driver got restless and the conversation got more heated as I could hear the policeman cursing as he almost hit the driver. No good. The Tempo Traveller we were told, was not going anywhere till dawn.
We were informed that the local DGP of Police had put enacted a new decree that vehicles could move from Srinagar to Jammu only during day hours starting from 6 am. I got off the vehicle, since there was nothing else to do. I pulled out a cigarette and noted that one side of the road descended into a deep ravine and far far down I could see lights from a hydroelectric project in progress. It was then that I truly appreciated the driver's driving skills. One wrong move and we would be hurtling down that precipice and find mention in some news item as one more accident, that so often happens in Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh and Uttarkhand. Particularly when the tar on the roads disintegrates into potholes around treacherous bends.
I was joined by a young Kashmiri co-traveler who also lit a cigarette and asked me whether I knew someone called Ram Singh. It seemed this Ram Singh had to be feared and respected and only an ignoramus would not have heard of Ram Singh. The young guy informed me that Ram Singh was the DGP, and what Ram Singh says is the rule. No vehicles to Jammu till morning! Police were the law here.
We walked toward the police check-post and found a huge log obstructing the road preventing vehicles from barging ahead.
The apple merchant was having an animated conversation with the young Kashmiri driver.
"You don't know how to deal with these people", he was admonishing the driver. If the driver couldn't deal with the police, he said he would. He was contemplating giving a bribe. The driver protested that he didn't have enough money to bribe off all these policemen. An hour later, a hundred rupees was collected from each passenger, seemingly a bribe was paid, yet the vehicle was not allowed to proceed!
I returned to the warmth of the Traveller since it was pretty cold outside and I was shivering in the near zero temperature in spite of my jacket.
An hour later, the driver returned to the Traveller, and said there was no option but to return to Srinagar and start off in the morning again. When we were halfway to Jammu! The passengers protested. One of the passengers said he knew an alternate route and they could give it a try. After some thought, the driver decided not to, reason being that road too was probably blocked. The driver talked to someone over his mobile and informed us that one of his friends who was updated on exactly which bases were covered by the police was on the same route, so they would wait it out for his advice. True to his words, soon a Tata Sumo joined the long queue of vehicles at the road block. Our driver had some quick words with the his driver friend and returned to his seat. He said there was an alternate route they could take where he bet that we would be let through.
So the Tempo Traveller followed the Sumo till we reached a road barrier, which was lifted after a friendly conversation with some plainclothes men and we were on our way to Jammu! We had been stuck up for nearly one hour!
The music was blaring again and the driver was heavily smoking again in-spite of protests from both me and the Sardarji. The driver told us half apologetically that he was just trying to ward off sleep and the music helped him stay awake.
One particular song was being played incessantly in a loop at full volume. From the song, I could catch the words of a a male baritone voice mouthing"Aunty Police Bulayeegi.. Party Yuh Hi Chaalegi!" I found the reference to "police" and "party" funny. The party seemed to be us rag-tag group of passengers!
In-spite of the din, I soon fell asleep.
It was dawn when we reached Jammu. The driver had indeed made up for lost time.
I noticed that Jammu was much warmer almost hot, even at that early hour. Seemed like India after all.
I could hardly see any of the Kashmiri types around - the ones in the long black cloaks or Muslim women in black. However there seemed to be plenty of Sardarjis and lots of North India types, some obviously on pilgrimage. Jammu seemed to be more modern with flyovers and was the standard concrete jungle that any Indian capital is.
Now I now had to locate a bus to Pathankot in Punjab. That was some journey! The party finally dispersed!