A Wandering Mind

Skywatch Friday - Sights from my window

2013-05-03T12:28:00.002+05:30

As the summer sun rages, I hide inside the house while Samhith makes the most of his summer vacations playing outside with his friends, unmindful of the heat. I have been busy though, for the last few weeks, and haven't been able to write at all. Today, for Skywatch, are some images I clicked in these past few weeks... my only respite from the sun and the pending work....

The gorgeous Golden Laburnum has bloomed outside my window..... Right now, they cover just a few branches.... in a few weeks more, the tree will be filled with these beautiful yellow flowers.

Right opposite are more trees, the yellow flowers providing a bright contrast to the shades of green...

Summer is the time we see a lot of sunbirds.... this Female Purple Rumped Sunbird is just one of many...

A pair of Red Whiskered Bulbuls visit the tree every morning...

And this Red Vented Bulbul looks like it has had a hair-raising experience...

A pair of Tailor Birds have arrived to, but I haven't yet been able to discover where they have set up shop...

White Browed Fantail Flycatchers.... four of them are here, and they create such a racket, and seem to be playing, hopping from one branch to another, spreading their feathers and putting on a show! Now if only I could capture that!

Pigeons are common, but in the last few weeks, we have been noticing this white one, which seems to have set up house in the building next to ours.... it looks so pretty, doesnt it?

The Coppersmith Barbet is one bird whose call I have now begun to recognise... I hear this one calling out almost all day.... though I see him less often.... so good is he at blending with the leaves.

The sight of these beautiful flowers and birds has really helped make up for the terrible heat, and all the work I have been stuck with. However, what is really helping me get through all this is the thought of the trip coming up...... Next week, I am off again, first for a wedding, which is the best excuse for a family gathering, and then, for a short trip with just Samhith for company. Yes, mother and son are looking forward to a week of travel... without dad in tow! That should be interesting, don't you think?

Ashoka Flowers

2013-04-23T08:52:00.001+05:30

The only good things about summer are school holidays and the vibrant colours that surround me. This is the time the Ashoka tree outside my window blooms, and these gorgeous red flowers brighten my day each morning....

For years, I didn't even know that the Ashoka tree bore flowers. And then, one summer, they did. It was only when I read up more about them did I realise that most of the Ashoka trees we see around us - the tall, pillar like ones - aren't even real Ashokas. They are actually called 'False Ashokas'! The real Ashoka is much smaller, and every year, bears these beautiful red flowers which attract so many birds....

They truly brighten up my day!

Snapshots from Mumbai - Salt And the City

2013-04-22T11:16:00.003+05:30

Vast tracts of land cut up into squares - each filled with water... and sometimes, a white mound by the side.... These are the salt pans which line the highways leading into the city of Mumbai.....

At one time, this tiny island was only inhabited by fishermen, who caught the fish, which were then plentiful, made salt from the same water that gave them the fish, and stored the fish with the salt. They made their living from the sea, and considered it their God. That time has long gone. Mumbai evolved from a sleepy fishing island to the throbbing port city of the British, to the commercial capital of India.

These salt pans may not produce the bulk of the salt eaten by the country, but they still have their use. These salt pans, and the mangroves lining them are what keep our island afloat. Over the years, we have occupied land which had lain wild for centuries, reclaimed land from the sea, and even cut mangroves and filled in these salt pans, to build houses for our ever growing population. I wonder how much more the island can tolerate before finally allowing itself to be submerged into the sea once and for all.

Book Review: Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie

2013-04-21T11:25:00.004+05:30

In his introduction to Midnight’s Children, Salman Rushdie writes –

“As I placed Saleem (born at the midnight moment of Indian independence) at the centre... I understood that his time of birth would oblige me immensely to increase the size of my canvas. If he and India were to be paired, I would need to tell the story of both twins. Then Saleem, ever a striver for meaning, suggested to me that the whole of modern Indian history happened as it did because of him; that history, the life of his nation-twin, was somehow all his fault.”

Later, he elaborates, in Saleem’s own words –

“...it is Kali Yuga; the children of the hour of darkness were born ... in the midst of the age of darkness; so that although we found it easy to be brilliant, we were always confused about being good. ......”

And then –

“Reality can have metaphorical content; that does not make it less real. A thousand and one children were born; there were a thousand and one possibilities which had never been present in one place at one time before; and there were a thousand and one dead ends. Midnight’s children can be made to represent many things, according to your point of view; they can be represented as the last throw of everything antiquated and retrogressive in our myth-ridden nation, whose defeat was entirely desirable in the context of a modernizing, twentieth century economy; or as the true hope of freedom....”

That, in a nutshell, is what the book is about.

To elaborate a bit more, and get on with my review, here are some thoughts I had, as I read the book.

To begin with, it is not an easy read. I am usually a fast reader, but this book took me more than a month to read. It is not one of those books which you can read at one go. There are parts which make you stop and think, and the narrative at times makes you wonder where on earth the story is going.

The story might be about Saleem, but it is, in fact, a beautiful way of writing history. Every event in the book relates to events which occurred in India in the three decades following independence, and while the story is all about connecting Saleem, and the midnight’s children to the events, it does provide a look at the events in a manner other than simply reading about them in a newspaper or in an history book. This is something the author seems to have noticed, for he writes in his introduction –

“In the west, people tended to read Midnight’s children as a fantasy, while in India, people thought of it as pretty realistic, almost a history book.”

We all remember events, not just by themselves, but how they affected us. For example, I shall always remember Indira Gandhi’s assassination with our being stuck in Madras, worrying about our journey to Delhi, for my aunt’s wedding, and the Babri Masjid riots with being stuck in college, and getting into a running train in a desperate attempt to get back home safe. Yes, this is no way concerned with the book, but it’s what I loved about the book, his connecting of historical events with events in Saleem’s life. The only difference is, while we look at events in our life against the backdrop of events happening in our country, Saleem looks on at the events happening in the country against the events occurring in his life.... each connected with the other, by virtue of his time of birth.

Rushdie’s choice of the protagonist as the narrator, writing his autobiography, reading it out to his lover... is not just interesting, it is brilliant. It allows him to use a typically Indian narrative – rambling, lengthy, filled with anecdotes, jumping back and forth between different time periods, now talking of a time in the past, now jumping to the present, suddenly going way back in time, and once again leaping ahead, suggesting what is yet to come, tantalising the reader with bits of what lie ahead, constantly reminding us of events in the past (which was actually very useful, since I didn’t have to constantly refer to past happenings). If you have ever heard your grandmother tell you stories of her youth, you will surely see the similarity.

At first, as I struggled to read the book, I wondered why on earth it had won the Best of the Booker award. It was only by the time I completed it that I realised why. To start off with, there is the language – it is simple, easy enough for the casual reader, but good enough for the connoisseur; his choice of words for his characters is just about perfect, he manages to blend in Hindi slang and Indian English without taking anything away from the overall language of the book, something few Indian authors manage to achieve. Add to this his choice of metaphors for describing anything and everything... ranging from a torn bed sheet to the family nose inherited by Saleem, and you have a literary masterpiece!

Then there is his writing style – cynical, satirical, with the underlying sense of humour at the whole situation. He laughs at the typically Indian mentality, at times, cruelly and brutally honest, forces us to see things as they are. And yet, he holds on to the story, and our interest.

The very idea of midnight’s children itself is so typically Indian; it is so much in tune with our love for mythology and seeking a divine meaning, a higher reason for every single event, that it seems inevitable that the children will end up much like our own country – confused, corrupt and helpless.

And, just like almost everything in our country, he carries it a bit too far...The story could have been simpler with just a few midnight’s children, instead, he chooses a number which is difficult to handle, and even with just three of them being important, he fails to give each of them their place in the sun. The story might be Saleem’s. But in that case, the title should have been ‘Midnight’s Child”. Having associated Saleem’s destiny with other children, especially Shiva, I expected to read more about him as the book progressed, which didn’t happen. We hear of Shiva just off and on through the book, when, by rights, simply by virtue of his birth, he should have been a co-protagonist. But the story, narrated by Saleem, remains Saleem’s alone. But then, that was probably the author’s way of showing us the injustice in the world, in which case, he does succeed.

P.S. This book was sent to me for review by Random House India

Storming Sewri Part 4 - Uncovering hidden secrets

2013-04-13T15:08:00.000+05:30

It has been a hectic week, and I am so glad it is over! My computer had crashed, and then the internet did, and by the time they both got back, I have had loads of work piling on. Catching up with my posts has been a priority, so, in an attempt to at least complete one set of posts, here is the final in the Storming Sewri series....

The paved path leads us uphill, but the hill is scarcely visible. All we can see are tiny tenements lining the path on either side. As we climb further, the road (if I can call it that) gets narrower, and the houses more colourful. It almost feels like we are in a village, not in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world.

We are on Golanji Hill in Sewri. At one time, this hill was used as a firing range by the British soldiers, which earned it its name, from the Marathi word for bullets – goli.

At that time, the view from this hill would have been gorgeous, with the city stretching on one side, and the sea on the other. All around would have been other tiny hillocks, each with their vantage views. Today, we can barely make out any hillocks. The skyline is dominated by concrete..... each structure competing with the others to touch the sky. As to the sea, we have to strain to catch a glimpse of it. All we can see are broken tiles on the tenement roofs – a stark contrast to the modern towers.

Turning into a tiny, almost-invisible alley, we find ourselves right at the top – a bare patch of land, once the summit of the hill, now used as a playing field. A group of boys are busy playing cricket, and they stop to watch us. Evidently, outsiders like us are rare in this close knit community of the hill.

I wonder why this patch has been left alone, instead of being encroached by hutments like the rest of the hill. It takes me a while to realise that what has kept this patch bare are in fact, two huge electricity towers or transmission towers – right at the top of the hill. It turns out that these electric towers, or rather the original ones, were among the earliest to be installed in this city, bringing current over from the mainland, to light up this tiny island. Here is yet another nugget of history, which lies forgotten beneath the fast moving pace of the city.

I think I have seen it all, and yet, as we continue our walk, the surprises mount. We forget that we are in the middle of a crowded city. The old styled houses with their Tulsi plants take me back to another era.

We are reminded that this was once part of ‘Parel village’,

and here, in an unimposing structure, is what we have come to see.

It looks like a temple, but isn’t. Its simply a room, with a collapsible door, which is bolted tight. At first, I can barely make out what is inside.

The board outside tells me that its one of the oldest, and biggest monoliths of Shiva in Mumbai....

but I cannot see any details till I walk inside a tiny gate, and peer through the collapsible doors. And here is what I see –

This is the ‘Parel Shiva Heptad’ – a monolithic statue of Shiva, with seven faces, believed to date back to the 5^th or 6^th century AD. The image was found when the area was dug for road construction in 1931. While scholars wanted to display it in the Prince of Wales Museum, the locals refused to part with it. The museum eventually got a replica, and the image was installed in a shrine near where it was found. It is believed to represent Maheshamurthi – the full manifestation of Shiva.

There are a total of 11 figures in all – a central figure from whom 6 others emerge. Together, the seven represent Shiva in all his forms. At the bottom are 4 kneeling figures, representing the Ganas, his devotees, playing various musical instruments. Interestingly, though there are 11 figures, the image is locally called ‘Baradevi’ (12 goddesses).

A nearby temple where the image was originally placed after discovery.

We turn back at last, having finished our quest for the day. As we pass yet another hillock covered with hutments, I learn that this is the Sewri water reservoir. Yet another bit of history I have been ignorant about. Heading back home, I can’t put the trip behind, and tell everyone I meet about what I have seen.

Weeks have now passed, but as I sit and write this post, I am still consumed by the sense of wonder I felt at discovering the hidden bits of history at Sewri. And I cant help but wonder - what other secrets lurk beneath the surface of this city? Will I ever learn it all?

And now, having finally finished with the Storming Sewri series, a hearty ‘Thank you’ to the wonderful people at Travel-Logs, for introducing me to a part of the city I never knew existed.

For more details about the Parel Shiva Heptad, check out these links.

The Parel Heptad

Mumbai Mirror article

The Cauvery and her stories at Coorg

2013-04-11T10:30:00.000+05:30

Long, long ago, it is said, a crow overturned a pitcher of water. No, I am not talking of the Aesop’s fable, but instead, the story of the Kaveri.

As the legend goes, sage Agasthya held the sacred Kaveri in his kamandalu (a vessel for holding water) to perform his rituals. Meanwhile, the gods pondered about how they could liberate the river so she could enrich the whole land, and help the people, instead of being confined for the sage’s use alone. It was Ganesha, the elephant headed God, who volunteered for the task. Taking the form of a crow, he alighted on the kamandalu, and gently toppled it. The river rushed out, and flowed over the land, rendering it fertile, bringing water to parched throats. The sage, nevertheless, was angry. The water had been meant for him alone, a special gift from the gods. He rushed to hit the crow, and when it turned into Ganesha, he realised his error, and knocked himself on the temples with his clenched fists. The story is as old as time, yet the gesture lives on. Even today, people knock themselves on the head with their fists in front of Lord Ganesha, symbolically berating themselves for their selfishness. The Kaveri flows on too, though our human follies have managed to slow her down, and make her a seasonal river. Yet, her presence lingers over the region, rendering it rich and fertile. Nowhere is this more evident than at her birthplace, the very site where these events unfolded – Talacauvery.

Talacauvery (or Talakaveri) is located about 48 Kms from Madikeri. Atop the hill is a small tank, where the river is said to originate. On a normal day, there isn’t much to see here. There is just the tank with a small shrine to Kaveriamma, the deity of the river. A little higher are two more shrines, dedicated to those who brought her here – Ganesha, and Agastheeswara.

The river itself is seen only further down the hill, at Bhagamandala. It is only during the monsoon that the area comes alive, with water levels rising, culminating somewhere in mid October with a spurt of water which flows down visibly as the river. This is the day when crowds flock to Talacauvery for a sacred bath in one of the holiest of Indian rivers.

We visited Talacauvery in March, and in spite of the hot sun beating down on us, the place was surprisingly cool. Most pilgrims offer their prayers to Kaveri and bathe in the water, though bathing in the tank didn't seem too tempting to us. We chose instead to enjoy the verdant greenery that surrounded us. It is reassuring to note that the area has been declared as a wildlife sanctuary. The river surely has something to smile about!

At the foothills is Bhagamandala, and it is here that Kaveri shows herself as a river. She merges with the mountain stream known as Kannike, and a mythical river called the Sujyoti, to flow further down the hills and into the plains, through Karnataka and Tamilnadu, to eventually merge into the sea at Poompuhar.

Here, on the banks of the Kaveri is the Bhagandeshwara temple, with shrines to Lord Shiva as Bhagandeshwara, Lord Vishnu, Ganesha and Subramanya. The ancient temple is a simple one, built in the Kerala style of architecture, but with beautiful carvings inside.

We were told that during the monsoon, the river rose all the way up the temple steps, though we were lucky that there was still enough water to bathe in the confluence in summer.

Bathing in rivers or at confluences are considered sacred, but when the water is clear and cool, and we have the river to ourselves, it is more pleasure than anything else. What was intended to be a quick dip, turned into a swimming session lasting over an hour!

While my son frolicked in the water, swimming from one bank to the other, I found something else to occupy me – birds. A spotted dove pottered about on the other bank....

On the electric wires around, were flocks and flocks of swallows.....

They simply sat perched on the wires, as if taking a break from their work.....

... while others flew here and there, probably catching their food, but settling down every now and then for me to click.

Familiar with the story of Kaveri from childhood, I had imagined her as tempestuous and flighty, rushing eagerly to her freedom. However, here she was, calm and peaceful, completely at ease with herself and the world. And that is the image that will remain with me, for the years to come... of having the river to ourselves, for our pleasure alone, even if just for a little while, on a hot summer day!

This article, in a slightly shorter form, was originally posted on the Club Mahindra Blog.

Storming Sewri Part 3 - The Sewri Christian Cemetery

2013-04-10T12:13:00.000+05:30

It’s been a while since I wrote about my Sewri Walk with the Travel-Logs. My short trip to Coorg and all the unfinished work I found when I got back, resulted in the blog being neglected for quite a while. My son’s holidays begin next week, which implies that I will have even less time for the blog, so here is the next part in the Storming Sewri Series –

Flamingoes and the Fort – these were the two things I could count among the things I knew about Sewri. It was only when I ventured with our informative guides further inland, towards the heart of Sewri, that I realised just how little I knew about my city. Our first stop was at the Sewri Christian Cemetery.

I have only been inside one cemetery in my life – the Banganga Goswami Cemetery, where Shankar’s great-grandfather, who took Sanyas (renounced the world), is buried. You can read the post I wrote about it here. The Sewri cemetery was the first Christian cemetery I was visiting, and frankly speaking, I was completely overwhelmed!

I wish I could show you the cemetery as it is....unfortunately, photography isn’t allowed, so I just have to describe it as well as I can.... Close your eyes then, and think of a simple, unpretentious gate. At first glance, it looks like a garden. It was, after all, a garden at one time – belonging to the Horticultural Society, and converted into a cemetery following the plague epidemic in the late 19^th century.

A path runs through the land, dividing people, even in death. One side is for the Catholics, the other for Protestants. The division doesn’t end there. Rich and poor alike might all turn to dust at the end of the day, but status and wealth does seem to linger on, seen in the tombstones and the space chosen for the resting places. Amidst the intricately carved tombstones lie nameless ones, simply marked. Family vaults tell us of generations who lived and died here, while angels atop tiny graves mark the place where children rest, having seen too little of life.

Amidst the unknown and faceless are people whose names live long beyond their life spans. Here lies Frederick William Stevens, architect of the Victoria Terminus (now Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus). His grave is simple, and it is only by blowing away the dust that we can read his name. In a farther corner is George Wittet, the architect of the Gateway of India. Also here is Joseph Baptista, who was the Mayor of Mumbai in 1925, but who, more interestingly, was the lawyer who defended Veer Savarakar. He was also a labour leader who took up the case of the mill workers. In such august company are also recent personages, such as Francis Newton Souza, the artist, and Dom Moraes.

Walking through a cemetery is something that, not unnaturally, brings up thoughts of death. Being a Hindu, I am so much more comfortable with the idea of turning into ashes, and reuniting with the elements, my name etched in memories, rather than on stones. However, there is no escaping the fact that tombstones do serve a purpose – as milestones in the path of history.

Coming up: The final part on the Storming Sewri series.

Skywatch Friday : Nature v/s Development

2013-04-05T11:01:00.000+05:30

For Skywatch Friday this week, here are our winged visitors, the flamingoes, seen against the backdrop of the Industrial skyline...

I have always wondered about what it is that brings the Flamingoes to Mumbai, year after year. The city is among the most crowded, a concrete jungle, always in a rush, and not always very hospitable. However, even more baffling is their choice of location - the Sewri mudflats as well as the mangrove forests near the creeks. Neither of these appears, at first glance, like a place birds would flock to. The mangroves are disappearing by t he day, filth is dumped into the creek, and as to the mudflats, they are messier than I had imagined them to be. And yet, the birds come here, year after year, though their numbers do seem to be dwindling. On the other hand, those which do arrive seem to be staying longer. A few years back, they disappeared with the first onset of summer, re-appearing only after the rains were completely over and done with. This year, it is already April, and the birds are still here. And take a look at the place they have chosen.... the shore is almost completely occupied by industries, most of which directly dump their waste into the sea. These photos were clicked during my recent Sewri Walk with the Travel-Logs. The first is the view from the Sewri Jetty, and the second from atop the Sewri Fort. And this is just one bit of the shore that can be seen.

Its indeed a sight which restores our faith in nature... that she can, and manages to hold her own in spite of all obstructions. Its indeed up to us now, to lend her a helping hand..... so that we can keep seeing such wonderful sights for years more.

Related Posts:

Storming Sewri Part 1 - Flamingoes

Storming Sewri Part 2 - Sewri Fort

Flamingoes at Sewri

A Date with the Flamingoes

More birds at Sewri

Waders and other water birds.. at the Sewri mudflats

On the trail of Maharana Pratap

2013-04-04T10:31:00.000+05:30

Rajasthan is most well known for its beautiful palaces and forts. The impressive architecture, the intricate detailing, the royal touch....much has been written about it. However, there is another face of Rajasthan – that of the Rajputs who fought for their land, for their freedom from outside influences. Among them, there is no name that shines brighter than that of Maharana Pratap.

Maharana Pratap... from the museum at Haldighati

Maharana Pratap was the eldest son of the Mewar King, Udai Singh. Though he was the crown prince, he had to live amidst the mountains, hidden from enemies. His star eventually rose, and he ascended the throne, though only symbolically, for he was fated to spend the greater part of his life living rough in the heart of the Aravalli ranges. His greatest triumph was a battle no one believed he would survive. As it happened, he did not win, but neither did he lose. He managed to strike terror in the heart of the enemy, and, till the end, refused to bow before the might of the Mughal Empire. So effective was he, that the Mughals actually retreated from the area he reigned over.

Maharana Pratap was a scion of the royal family of Mewar, and it is in Mewar that he is most remembered. It is impossible to visit the region, and not remember him. Let me take you along on a tour of some of the places associated with the legendary Maharana.

Kumbhalgarh

Kumbhalgarh Fort

Kumbhalgarh – the fortress bearing the name of one of the greatest rulers of Mewar – Maharana Kumbha, was also the birthplace of Maharana Pratap. That two such personalities should be so intimately connected with the fort shows its importance as well as its strength. Kumbhalgarh is most well known for its long wall – which is said to be second only to the Great Wall of China, and extends over 36 Km. Most of the wall is intact, and is built in such a way that it’s almost impossible to climb from the outside. At the top, it is wide enough for 4 horses to ride side by side!

At one time, the fort had over 360 temples within its walls, both Jain as well as Hindu temples. Today, little remains of this heritage, but a few temples and ruins of others. The palace itself is in ruins, but the women’s quarter, where Maharana Pratap was born on the 9^th of May, 1540, has a board informing us of the fact.

Kumbhalgarh is about 60 Km from Udaipur. There are a few resorts near the fort, but it is easier to do a day trip from Udaipur.

I visited Kumbhalgarh in 2008, and wrote a series of posts on the fort. Click here to read them.

Chittorgarh

Ruins at Chittorgarh

Though born at Kumbhalgarh, Pratap spent most of his life at Chittor. Chittorgarh, like Kumbhalgarh, owes much of its construction and strength to Maharana Kumbha. However, unlike Kumbhalgarh, it was attacked repeatedly by the Mughals. It witnessed not only victory and defeat, but it also witnessed the ultimate sacrifice when defeat was imminent – self immolation by women who did not want to be captured and misused by the Mughals – known as the Johar. Chittor witnessed not one, but three such Johars over several generations. It was during one such losing battle that Maharana Pratap was smuggled away with the king to the forests in the heart of the Aravalli ranges, which set the tone for the rest of his life.

Chittorgarh is about 113 Km from Udaipur. There are plenty of hotels in the area, and it is worth a stay, to attend the sound and light show held in the fort complex every evening.

Click here to read my post on Chittorgarh, published in Travel Thru History.

Gogunda

Model of Mandap at Gogunda... from the Maharana Pratap Museum at Haldighati

Today, Gogunda is a small town near Udaipur, but about 500 years ago, it must have been a thick forest. It was to Gogunda that Maharana Pratap and Udai Singh were brought for safe keeping. It was here that Udai Singh passed on, and Maharana Pratap was named the ruler of Mewar on the 28^th of February, 1572. The coronation must have been a simple affair, symbolic in nature, and today, there is just a small mandap or pavilion commemorating the event. However, a grand celebration is held here every year on the coronation day.

Gogunda is about 37 Km from Udaipur and about 20 Km from Haldighati. There isn’t much to see, except during the festival time. It can be combined with a day trip to Haldighati.

Haldighati

Haldighati

Haldighati – the turmeric coloured pass – is a name synonymous with Maharana Pratap and his horse, Chetak. This is where, on 21^st June, 1576, the guerrilla army led by Maharana Pratap, met the massive Mughal army, for a battle which is remembered even centuries later. The battle was marked by the impressive bravery shown by the tribals and Rajputs led by Maharana Pratap. The battle was inconclusive, as neither side won, but the horse, Chetak, was the true hero of the battle. When the Maharana was injured, the horse, in spite of his own injuries, managed to get his master to safety before succumbing to his wounds. A memorial to Chetak, as well as museum dedicated to the battle keep memories of this famous battle alive.

Haldighati is about 40 Km from Udaipur. The best way to visit it is to make a day trip by car.

Click here to read my post on Haldighati, published on the Club Mahindra Blog.

Chawand

A model of the memorial at Chawand - from the museum at Haldighati

After the battle of Haldighati, the Mughals never attacked the Maharana on such a large scale. There were regular minor skirmishes, during which the guerrilla warriors had the upper hand, since they knew the mountains much better. They gave the Mughals a hard time, who eventually left the Maharana and his people alone. Though Maharana Pratap managed to capture back some parts of Mewar from the Mughals, he could never free the entire land from their influence. Since he had vowed not to live a comfortable and royal lifestyle while his land was ruled by invaders, he spent the rest of his life amidst the Aravallis as before, shifting from one place to another. He breathed his last at Chawand, on the 19^th of January, 1597. A memorial commemorating him stands here today.

Chawand is located about 60 Km from Udaipur.

All these places are located around Udaipur, and it is best to visit them, keeping Udaipur as a base.

This post was originally published on the Club Mahindra Blog.

Breaking the travel jinx

2013-04-03T09:24:00.000+05:30

Cooped up at home for over 3 months, we were in dire need of a short break. Which is why, we made use of the Holi and Good Friday holidays to escape from the city. Our destination - one which has eluded us for years, which we have booked tickets to, twice, and had to cancel both times. We hoped to get, as they say, 'third time lucky', and we did, heading out to Coorg for a too-short vacation, just to break the jinx!

I have been back for two days, and the time has been spent recuperating from the trip - mountains of clothes to be washed, house to be cleaned, chores to be done...... and I haven't even been able to update my blog till now. Yet, amidst all this chaos is a peace which comes from the fact that I did manage to get out, for however short a trip.... This will probably last me for a few more days, till the travel pangs begin anew! Meanwhile, I am re-living the wonderful experiences we had.... of Samhith swimming in the Kaveri at Bhagamandala.....

Enjoying the thrill of adventure at Club Mahindra, Coorg....

Playing with the elephants at Dubare...

And, for me, the sheer beauty of the mountains, and the pleasure of seeing birds where least expected...

The trip was a short one, but I have loads to share.... Now, if only I could take a second break from the chores.... just to sit down and write!

Storming Sewri Part 2 - The Sewri Fort

2013-03-26T12:36:00.002+05:30

I first read about Sewri Fort in an article on the various forts in Mumbai. Every time I visited the Sewri Jetty to see the flamingos and other birds, I wondered where the fort was. A friend later told me that it was just off the road we took to reach the jetty. Unfortunately, ardent birdwatchers aren’t always heritage enthusiasts, and I never found company to go to the fort. Much as I love to explore, going into a deserted and ruined fort alone didn't seem the safest thing to do, and the fort remained on my wish list for all these years. When Travel-Logs announced their Sewri Walk, the one place I was keen to visit was the fort. Thankfully, the dates and timings were convenient for once, and I eagerly jumped on to the bandwagon!

The Sewri fort was built in 1680 by the British, on the island of Parel. The main purpose of this fort was to act as a watch tower, given its vantage position overlooking the eastern seaboard as well as the mainland. It was captured by the Siddis in 1689, and remained in their hands for a few years till the British managed to drive them away once again. The fort is said to have been instrumental in repelling an attack by the Portuguese in 1772. So much for history... now for what remains of it....

The fort is barely visible from the road. Newer buildings have come up in the vicinity... not just warehouses, but also residential buildings, which succeed in hiding this remnant of our history. If I had gone there alone, I would have wondered if there really was a fort here.

Can you see the fort? This is the view as seen from the road?

Right at the entrance is a dargah, which is what draws crowds. We found ourselves there on an Urs day, and the place was teeming with people – pilgrims, loiterers, as well as policemen.

The fort has been ‘restored’, which seems to mean that almost everything has been covered with concrete. What I took to be the dome –like ceiling of the original structure is apparently an attempt to bolster the weight of the concrete used for reconstruction, something which is deeply disappointing.

In spite of all this, traces of the structure remain and help us imagine what it might have been like, in a day when the place was solely used as a look-out at a time when war could break out anytime!

It is obvious that this must have been a functional fort – there are no embellishments, no decorations. It’s simply a watchtower, with space for those assigned to it. Everywhere there are holes, probably used for cannons or rifles.

Though the fort is said to have been built in 1680, the date over the entrance says 1734.. or 1736, the variation coming from the way the last digit is inscribed...

And yet, there is something interesting about the design... the curves give it a completely different look from other forts I have seen.

Its such a pity that we have a tendency to deface every wall we can see... and heritage walls, even those covered with concrete, seem to invite people to render themselves immortal by etching their names on it!

The staircases are interesting... most of them curved, but unfortunately, thanks to the renovation, only a few of them actually lead somewhere!

Also, so much work has been done that it is now almost impossible to distinguish the different renovations carried out in different eras.

The best part of the fort is surely the view. On one side, you have an uninterrupted view of the sea... including the Gharapuri, or Elephanta Islands...

Unfortunately, while the view is great, it also shows us just how badly the mangroves have been maintained.

And on the other side, the view extends over Sewri – Wadala. If it weren’t for the high rises, we could probably see even further.

While I was searching for information about the fort, I realised that Mumbai once had 11 forts in all, of which 8 still remain, though mostly in ruins. Three have been demolished over the years. There are few cities in the world which can boast of such heritage, but it is sad to think that we hardly appreciate it. How many of us even know the forts within our city? And how many of them have we seen? Here is a timeline of the various forts in Mumbai. The image is from Wikipedia. For more information on the forts, click here.

My desire to visit the Sewri fort has now been fulfilled, but it has evoked another desire now... to visit all the forts left in Mumbai... or at least the ones which are open to the general public. Now let’s see how I can make that wish come true!

Storming Sewri Part 1 - Flamingos

2013-03-25T23:17:00.000+05:30

Last weekend, when I asked Samhith if he wanted to accompany me to Sewri, he replied, “But I have already seen flamingos!” I tried explaining that Sewri wasn’t just about flamingos, but he remained unconvinced. I signed up for the Sewri walk by Travel-Logs nevertheless, and dragged him along, remembering a time when Sewri, to me, meant even less.

While I was growing up in Mumbai, Sewri was simply a railway station on the Harbour line. That is, till the flamingos began arriving in hundreds, and then thousands.

I still remember the excitement I felt, when a friend told me about them, and I headed to her house for a glimpse of these exotic birds from her bedroom window. They were simply pink specks in the distance, and lacking good binoculars, they remained just that. It took me years to venture once again to Sewri, and see the birds up close. That visit led to many more, and, through the high magnification, telescopic lenses of avid birdwatchers, we soon familiarised ourselves with not just flamingos, but also sandpipers, herons, plovers, and many more water birds. Since then, every year has seen us heading to Sewri for our date with the birds. Soon, Samhith learnt to connect the name ‘Sewri’ with the flamingos.

Little did we realise that there was so much more to Sewri than just these avian visitors. It took a walk this Saturday afternoon with Travel-Logs to show us just how interesting this little corner of our city was!

We met our hosts from Travel-Logs at the Sewri Jetty at 4 in the evening, and were pleasantly surprised to see a huge flock of flamingos. The sheer variety of birds we see in the mornings were missing, but they were more than made up for, by the near presence of the flamingos and a flock of seagulls.

I had never seen Gulls before at Sewri, and was fascinated by them. All attempts to capture them in flight were in vain, and after a while, I gave up, and simply sat and watched them swoop down and grab their prey.

Speaking of prey, we saw mudskippers again, and caught this one in the water...

There were sandpipers here and there, though am not sure of the exact name. Any of you who can help me out, please leave a comment with the names of the birds...

A sole Black Headed Ibis pottered about, pecking in the mudflats, surrounded by Egrets.

A couple of Pond Herons showed themselves too...

And finally, just as we were almost ready to leave, we spotted a couple of Little Ringed Plovers, which urged us to stay just a little while more...

And all that was just the beginning..... We had yet to go a long way... and re-discover a part of our city I knew almost nothing about. And just to keep you guessing, I have decided to do this as a series.... so you can look forward to something interesting to read in the next few days. Incidentally, I shall be travelling again tomorrow, to a place which has eluded me for long. I will be gone for less than a week, and when I get back, I will hopefully have loads more to show you!

Skywatch Friday - Reflections

2013-03-22T09:16:00.001+05:30

For skywatch today is this photo which I clicked from the salt pans which line the Eastern Express Highway, near Mulund. The Reflection of the tall buildings in the water accumulated in the salt pans was a sight I could not resist.

These salt pans don't just provide a change from the monotony of the tall buildings, but also attract a huge variety of birds to this concrete jungle. The Bhandup Pumping Station, which is on a lane leading towards the creek from these salt pans, is a favourite birding spot, especially for water birds. To see the variety of birds even an amateur like me spotted, and managed to photograph, click here.

Birdwatching at Bhandup Pumping Station

For more beautiful skies from around the world, visit the Skywatch Page.

Book Review: Barfani Baba; To Amarnath, Happily - By Aabha Vatsa

2013-03-20T11:59:00.000+05:30

‘Amarnath’ one of the names of Lord Shiva, implies not simply that He is immortal, but that he is beyond immortality, above the concept of life and death, the one who controls all, death included. That is the very concept behind the holy shrine where He is known by that name. The Amarnath cave is situated in a terrain which is certainly among the toughest to cover, and the idol isn’t just a stone, but ice, or rather, water, which has no beginning and no end; which takes different forms, yet doesn’t lose its character; but above all, which sustains life itself! A journey to the Amarnath cave is thus not simply a visit to a shrine, but one which makes you think of life itself, to ponder on issues of life, death and everything in between. It is this thought that Aabha Vatsa puts forth in her book ‘Barfani Baba; To Amarnath, Happily’.

I have known Aabha for a while now, and though we have not yet met, we have connected through our blogs. When I heard she was off to Amarnath, I must confess to a tiny seed of jealousy, for her name was added to the long list of people I know who have been blessed to make the journey, and it rankled somewhere, that He hadn’t called me yet. And then again, there was the thought that I probably wasn’t ready for it. As of now, it was enough for me to read about it, and yearn for it..... and maybe the yearning would be fulfilled someday! Therefore, when Aabha asked me if I would like to read and review her book, I jumped at the chance.

‘Barfani Baba’ or ‘Lord of Ice’ is how Lord Amarnath is known, colloquially. Aabha’s choice of title is truly appropriate, for while the pilgrimage is all about a personal, spiritual quest, the yatra itself is one which relates more to the faith of the masses. People are drawn to the shrine for various reasons – spiritual, religious, curiosity, a personal test of endurance, and many others, but what carries most people through the most gruelling of challenges laid out by the harsh terrain, is faith – if not their own, that of their companions, their fellow yatris.

The book is a compilation of Aabha’s own experiences during the yatra, and she is honest and completely open about it all – from her enthusiasm to her fears, her beliefs to her doubts. It is a book which reassures people that the yatra is indeed possible for all, without covering up or passing over the difficulties and hardships.

Her candid description of the vital 48 hours of the yatra, where she struggles to hold herself upright, even on horses and palkhis, is something which reminded me of my very first pilgrimage to Kedarnath, as a young girl. Reading about her aches and pains, imagining her shivering in wet clothes, brought back memories of my mother and grandfather trudging into our room at Kedarnath, late in the night, amidst heavy snowfall. Her relief at seeing her daughter brought a smile to my face, and I remembered the thrill I felt, seeing my mom after we got separated on the path. These experiences are more than 25 years old, but reading the book made me relive those memories after a very long time.

It is experiences like these which make a pilgrimage memorable, but Aabha’s book is as much a fount of information as it is a travelogue. She intersperses her narrative with detailed information about various parts of the yatra. The information these days is easily available on websites, but through her experiences, you understand the reasons for the rules and regulations set out by the Amarnath Shrine Board for the yatra. The narrative and the information together can be really useful for someone who is planning to go on the yatra, whether by the trekking route, or by helicopter.

Aabha has chronicled her journey beautifully, from her initial excitement, to the practicalities, the fear and anxiety of the journey to the fulfilment on its completion. It is a book which underlines the spirituality of the journey, and makes you want to set off right away.

Birdwatching at Bhandup Pumping Station, Mumbai

2013-03-19T11:50:00.004+05:30

Sunday mornings are meant for relaxation... to catch up on some much needed sleep. But when opportunity beckons, even the little chap who struggles to get out of bed for school, is up and awake with the first ring of the alarm, eager to be on his way. Such a long awaited opportunity came our way this Sunday, with the BNHS organising a bird watching trip to the Bhandup Pumping station.

A pumping station is where the sewage from the city ends up, and finds its way into the waste water management system. What then, is the attraction for birdwatchers? The attraction is its proximity to water... in this case, the creek. I have been reading and hearing so much about the variety of birds seen there, but going alone didn't seem too feasible, or even practical. Most of my bird watching trips have been with the BNHS, since they are extremely good with children, and I am always accompanied by Samhith! That their focus is more on education and awareness is evident, especially in the way they handle kids and keep their enthusiasm going!

Thus it was, that we were at the meeting point, bang on time, all set to walk to see the birds. There were about 20 of us in all, and led by Dr. Ketki, we made our way along the saltpans, stopping every now and then to peer through binoculars or click with our cameras at the variety of bird life in the heart of the city.

The first bird we spotted was a Pond Heron.... showing off its camouflaging skills...

The bird life in the mangroves was an eye opener.... See the dense undergrowth? This is what keeps the city from flooding all the time. It is indeed up to us to protect them, and thus, our city!

An Ashy Prinia posed for a while on a branch....

Pied starlings flew and screeched, and one obliged us by sitting still long enough for me to click...

White cheeked Bulbuls were certainly the birds of the day. They were so visible, and so plentiful, that I wondered why I had seen none of them before in Mumbai!

We have always noticed Little Cormorants near the salt pans. There were a number of them around, sunning themselves.....

It was interesting to learn that cormorants, unlike other water birds, have no oil glands to help keep their feathers dry. That’s the reason we see them so often sitting with their wings spread out, so that they dry themselves before diving into the water again to catch their food. It’s such interesting titbits of information which make a bird watching trip with the BNHS so much fun!

Egrets were certainly the most numerous among all the birds. There were Little Egrets...

And Median Egrets....

Sitting on every pole....

A little further, in a small inlet of backwaters, we saw a lone Painted Stork... at close quarters.

A Coppersmith Barbet preened itself, probably showing off to a female...

A spotted dove perched on a wire

And an Oriental Magpie Robin flew around, and posed for a bit...

And a whole flock of Weaver Birds kept us occupied for quite a while...

A Golden Oriole played hide and seek amidst the yellowing leaves of a tree...

The pumping station itself was much better than I had imagined, with some efforts being made to keep the area clean, at least within the premises.... outside, well, as usual, that’s another matter entirely! However, the proximity to water does seem to attract a large number of birds. Though the sun was up and the day was heating up, we managed to spot quite a few to make the early morning jaunt worthwhile!

Within the enclosure itself, were flocks of Gull Billed Terns.....

And Common Sandpipers...

And a little further on, in the creek, were the larger water birds we had all been waiting for... There were a few Lesser Flamingos...

Black Winged Stilts...

More Gull Billed Terns, and also Brown headed Gulls...

A lone Grey Heron stood in the water, on the other side of the creek.... and this is the best I could capture...

Further along the path, the creek narrowed further, or probably it was a water inlet from the Pumping station, because, here we could see the effluents which are such a common feature of water bodies in the city... However, in the middle of all that, were Garganey Ducks..... which have travelled all the way from Russia!

There were males and females, and when we arrived, there must have been at least a couple of dozen!

However, with two kids and a number of enthusiastic, but amateur adults, our approach was quite audible, and the ducks flew off, leaving us just a few to try our photographic skills on.

Meanwhile, the rest of the flock flew overhead, and were treated to the sight of ducks flying in formation, encircling the area, waiting for us to leave!

There were more pond herons here, and also Black Winged Stilts, and it was so obvious where the latter gets its name from..... the huge, stilt-like legs which seemed to go on forever... I wondered how the birds managed to balance themselves!

Apart from these, there were also other birds we saw – an Asian Koel, Shrikes, Prinias, Tailor Birds, Barn Swallows, Rosy Starlings, Little Green Bee Eaters, Red Whiskered and Red Vented Bulbuls, and some of us even spotted a Marsh Harrier. However, I wasn’t able to capture any of these with my lens. Maybe that calls for another trip!

We had walked for over two and a half hours, mostly under the harsh sun, and by the time we were done, we were just too tired. Besides, in the general enthusiasm to see the maximum number of birds, everyone had left their cars right at the entrance, near the salt pans, unlike the more experienced birdwatchers whom we met at the creek, who had driven right up, and preferred to watch the varieties of water birds before the sun came up. We thus had a long walk ahead of us, and all we had time for, before beginning our weary trudge back, was to introduce ourselves and name one species we had seen. And undoubtedly, it was the kids who won the day, their enthusiasm infectious. If there was anyone who was more enthusiastic than even the children, it had to be Dr Ketki. We thoroughly enjoyed our morning jaunt to Bhandup, and look forward to many more!

Information:

Bhandup Pumping Station is located on the Eastern Express Highway, near the turn off for the Mulund Airoli Link Road.

The road near the salt pans is quite wide, though it gets narrower near the pumping stations. However, it is possible to drive right up to the creek. Also, the distance from the Highway to the creek is certainly within walking distance. The place can be quite deserted, so it is best not to go alone. Most Sunday mornings, there are birdwatchers in the area, so you will be sure to find company.

There is no specific time to see birds. The birds you spot depends on the tide at the time, and at different times, you might spot different varieties of birds.

BNHS organises regular birdwatching trips to various places in Mumbai, and details can be found on their website. If you are an amateur, or are taking kids along, it is advisable to go with the BNHS for their sheer wealth of information, as well as their patience and enthusiasm for children.

BNHS Website: http://www.bnhs.org/

CEC BNHS Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/cec.bnhs

Skywatch Friday - On the riverside

2013-03-15T09:14:00.000+05:30

For Skywatch today, is a scene that could be from anywhere in rural India..... a riverside scene....

A cowherd brings his cows and buffaloes to the river... they drink and they bathe... and so does he. I clicked this somewhere in interior Maharashtra, while on our way to the Lonar Crater, but, as I said before, it could be from any part of the country.

Book Review: The Rose Grower by Michelle De Kretser

2013-03-14T10:30:00.000+05:30

The 14^th of July, 1789 - A date which would become famous as Bastille Day, a symbol of the uprising of the common man against the tyranny of the monarchs. The date would soon be etched in the pages of history, but in a small corner of France, the date is memorable too... for another reason. On that eventful day, “labourers working in the fields around Montsignac, a village in Gascony, saw a man fall out of the sky.” So begins the novel, “The Rose Grower” by Michelle De Kretser.

Stephen Fletcher, an American Balloonist, is the man who ‘fell out of the sky’. He is taken to the nearest house, the residence of the Saint Pierres, and Stephen proceeds to fall in love with the first face he sets eyes on – Claire, the eldest daughter, even though she is married and has a son by the rich and snobbish Hubert De Montferrant.

The Rose Grower in the title is Sophie, the second child, the plain girl, who stands no chance against the charms of her older and so much more beautiful sister. She is the one who runs the family, keeps it together, manages to eke out a living in the worsening situation, and still manages to grow roses, always creating new varieties, and carries in her heart, the dream of creating the perfect crimson rose. For,

“In eighteenth century Europe, crimson roses do not exist. There are red-purple roses, of course, and rosy reds, and a sumptuous deep pink overclouded with plum and mulberry.”

Sophie, all of 22 years, is all set to live out her life as an old maid, till the accident brings irreversible changes in her life. Even as Stephen falls in love with, and begins an affair with Claire, Sophie falls in love with the adventurous stranger. Meanwhile, a young, idealistic doctor from the poorest section of the village, Joseph Morel, finds himself inexplicably attracted to the girl. Joseph is poor and idealistic, but he is also ambitious and has big dreams of righting the wrongs of the world. Drawn into a group of well off revolutionaries, themselves a mirror of the regime they plan to overthrow, he constantly struggles with himself, both, in the matter of love, as well his beliefs and ideals.

Michelle De Kretser takes us through events as they occur in the lives of these people, and those around them, against the backdrop of the French Revolution. The story spans a decade, the most tumultuous time in the history of France. Their lives mirror the tumult, and the happenings around them inextricably link lives and fortunes together.

Stories related to the Holocaust or the French Revolution usually tend to be a grim reminder of the worst face of mankind, and the underlying tragedy looms over the situation all the time. It is the same with this one too, though Michelle De Kretser manages to keep the Revolution at a distance, chronicling the events as they take place, far from the serene and simple village. It is only when the events occur closer that we sense the change in mood, and even then, she keeps the tragedy at bay, usually with her description of the roses and the manner in which Sophie grafts them together, to bring out the best in varieties together, in a single rose. A rose so perfectly red... the perfect crimson... which will flower through the year... the flower she hopes to create... which she will name the only thing there is to look forward to – ‘L’Avenir – The Future’.

Michelle De Kretser’s poetic words are what make this book such a wonderful read. And the same words are what make the book and its characters stay with you, long after you have finished reading!

P.S. This book was sent to me for review by Random House India

Faces in the Crowd: The Innocence of Childhood

2013-03-13T17:26:00.000+05:30

'The Innocence of childhood' is a much used and cliched phrase, which barely seems to apply these days when kids seem to grow up faster than we can think... in every way. And then, to see a child, completely immersed in herself, enjoying herself to the hilt, totally unaware of those around her... is a sight that warms the heart!

A few days back, I attended a dance programme at the temple in our complex. The performance was one among many, held as part of the temple's Shivaratri celebrations, spread over 10 days. My sister was one of the performers, which is why I was there, and as usual, I clicked away, having no eyes for anyone but her. You can see her photos on my Facebook page. I was waiting for her, later, when I noticed this kid in the first row, happily dancing by herself, trying to imitate the movements of the dancers on stage.

Her mother and grandmother tried their best to get her to sit down. She did listen to them, but she was up again, dancing away, while the others in the audience looked on, indulgently.

I have tried to capture the scene as it struck me.... the silhouette of the girl against the colorful background of the dancers. I don't know how well I have managed, but I hope these photos have brought a smile to your faces!

Nageshwar Temple, Aundha Nagnath

2013-03-10T14:08:00.000+05:30

The Rudram chanting (hymns dedicated to Rudra, or Lord Shiva) seemed to fill the entire space. The sound reverberated within the small, cavernous shrine, the stone walls echoing the words over and over again till the air itself seemed to pulsate with the same rhythm as the chanting. In such a charged atmosphere, the simple act of placing a bilva leaf on the Shiva lingam and pouring water on it, seemed much more than a mere ritual. It was this divine experience that made our visit to Aundha Nagnath so memorable.

The temple of Nageshwar at Aundha Nagnath is said to be among the 12 Jyotirlingams. It is an extremely ancient temple, first said to have been built by the Pandavas during their exile, which brought them to this place, which was then a dense forest. The forest itself has a story much older. It was called ‘Darukavanam’, or the forest of Daruka. Daruka was a demon, who, in spite of being a devotee of Lord Shiva, troubled the hermits who resided in the forest and made their lives miserable. The hermits prayed to Lord Shiva who himself destroyed the demon. Before he died, Daruka repented for his actions and asked that he and his misdeeds be remembered forever, as a warning to others, and thus Shiva agreed to stay on in the forest, which henceforth was called ‘Darukavanam’.

There isn’t much information available about the history of the temple or its architecture. A statue of Ahilyabai Holkar at the entrance suggests that the enterprising lady who is responsible for the preservation of most ancient temples in northern India had something to do with the restoration of this one too, but no mention is made of her in information available about the temple.

This is, however, one of the most beautiful and decorative temples in the area. The walls and pillars seem to be ancient ones, remnants of the oldest structure here, while the spire and the ceiling seem to have been renovated in more recent times. The whitewashed spire is a stark contrast to the ancient black stone of the walls.

The sculptures and work on the outer walls are magnificent, and I wished I was able to click photographs inside too.

The sanctum is located deep inside, in a chamber which is a little lower than the ground level, and the cavernous chamber is where the lingam rests, and this is where the chanting of the Rudram adds to the mystique of the temple, making our visit here so memorable.

Incidentally, this is not the only shrine laying claim to be Nageshwar, the 8^th among the Jyotirlings. A temple near Dwaraka, on the coast of Gujarat bears the same name, and also the fame. The dispute arises from the description of the location of the temple, Darukavan. While the forests which once covered this part of central India were once known by this name, a legend also speaks of a part of the forest being carried out to sea by the demon, which leads to the second temple by the same name. I have visited both temples, (though I haven’t written about the one at Dwaraka, since my visit pre-dated the blog), and it is my experience at the two temples, which makes me incline towards the one at Aundha Nagnath. Very interestingly, Daruka van also means a forest of Daruka or Deodhar trees, which brings a third temple into this confusion – the one at Jageshwar in Uttarakhand, and the shrine there is also known as Jageshwar Jyotirling! We visited Jageshwar during our visit to Binsar, and you can read about it here. As to which one among the three is the true Jyotirling, it is as much your choice as it is mine! So, go, visit all three and let me know what you think!

Information:

Location: Aundha Nagnath is located about 60 Km from Nanded and 50 Km from Parbhani.

How to Reach:

By Train: The nearest railway station is Chondi, but a better choice is Parbhani or Nanded, which are well connected to all parts of India.

By Road: MSRTC has regular bus services to Aundha Nagnath from both, Nanded as well as Parbhani. Cars are also easily available for hire at both places. There are also shared vehicles available from Parbhani.
By Air: The nearest airport is at Aurangabad (around 200 Km).

Where to Stay: The Aundha Nagnath temple has some basic accommodation near the temple, and the bus stand also has some rooms, however, they are extremely basic pilgrim accommodation, and I wouldn’t expect too much from them. A better option is to stay at Nanded (the Sachkhand Gurudwara at Nanded has extremely good arrangements for accommodation) or at Parbhani.

Birds from my window - Oriental Magpie Robin

2013-03-06T14:38:00.000+05:30

It has been a while since I posted photos of birds, so here is one I see the most these days - the Oriental Magpie Robin.

There are three of these birds in our garden, and I see them frequently flying around, and can hear their distinctive, melodious call even before I see them! Capturing them on camera, however, has been another matter entirely, and I managed these only because the birds were nice enough to sit on the window ledge near my house, and also pose for a while on the tree right opposite my window!

Snapshots from Mumbai - Maharashtra Police Headquarters

2013-03-05T13:36:00.000+05:30

The Maharashtra Police Headquarters is a landmark at Colaba, for the road leading towards the Gateway of India. However, it wasn’t always known by this name.

This was once the Royal Alfred Sailor’s Home, built in the 1870s to accommodate 20 officers and 100 seamen. It was originally conceived in 1870 to commemorate the visit of Prince Alfred, the Duke of Edinburgh, who laid the foundation, during his visit, at the end of Hornby row. However, the location was later changed, and when work finally began in 1872, the foundation stone was shifted here. Designed by the same architect responsible for such masterpieces as the VT station and the Municipal Corporation building, F.W.Stevens, the building took 4 years to build, and was opened in 1876.

The most arresting thing about the structure is the sculpture of Neptune on the pediment right at the top.

Neptune, the Roman God of the sea, is depicted surrounded by mythical creatures such as mer-people (male as well as female), and sea horses. He is seated on a shell, and is surrounded by waves of water. Flanking this panel are two stylised sea lions, fitting into the theme.

In the late 1930s, the building was acquired by the government and became the seat of the Bombay Legislative Council. Extensions were made to suit the increased usage, and the building remained the seat of the Legislative Council even post Independence, till a new building was constructed for the purpose in 1982. This one then was handed over to the Maharashtra Police Department, which has, since then, used it as its Headquarters.

If you are ever in Colaba, or visiting the Museum, stop a while to stare at the beautiful sculpture atop the building. You might not be allowed to get close, considering the security, but its size and location make it easily visible from across the road!

For more information, check out the Maharashtra Police Website.

Post Offices of Shimla

2013-03-03T17:05:00.003+05:30

The bright red pyramidal roof stands out, marking it clearly against the rest of the buildings. The red and yellow symbol of India Post painted over the entrance is equally visible, indicating that it is the GPO – the General Post Office, at Shimla.

Inside, the GPO is a hub of activity. There are long queues at every counter, and there is scarcely any space to take a good look at the interiors. It looks just like any other post office, on a busy day. Heading into the Philately counter, however, is a pleasant change. There is just one person in the room, surrounded by papers, covers, stamps and the like. He looks up impatiently, but brightens up when we say we want the special cancellation of the GPO. His smile lights up the small office, and he happily takes out the stamping pad. The cancellation he is giving us is a special one – one issued for the date 12-12-12 (12^th December 2012).

The stamped image has a Monal on it, the state bird of Himachal Pradesh, and Samhith is excited at the fact that he now has a bird on his collection of special cancellations! And a bird he has just seen on a visit to a bird park! The official is amused, and his happiness is evident. There are obviously not many philately enthusiasts coming here, and certainly few this young!

This is one of the oldest GPOs in the northern parts of the country, built in 1883. The half timbered structure is an example of typical British hill architecture, with hollow pillars of brick and stone that help warm the interiors during the cold winter months.

Almost every building here, on the Mall, is a heritage structure, and yet the GPO building manages to stand out. And, like most of the buildings here, this too has seen its share of renovations in modern times. A major fire which broke out in 1972 almost succeeded in destroying it, but persistent efforts to renovate the structure were successful and the renovated building, preserving the original features was re-opened to the public in 1992.

A little further down the road, is another post office. This one is painted the same colours of white and red as the GPO, but looks too simple to be an important building. We are surprised to learn that this is a heritage structure too, albeit of a different kind. At a time when horses were the only means of bringing the mail to Shimla from the plains, this structure served as the stable for the horses!

The advent of the Kalka Shimla Railway line in 1903 retired the horses from service and rendered the building inoperative till the Postal Department decided to use it as a branch office!

Further down, at Chaura Maidan is a green and white building which looks more like a country cottage. It’s only the India Post symbol which marks it as another post office.

Considering our interest in Philately, it isn't surprising that the highlight of our heritage walk of Shimla turns out to be the post offices! However, it is surprising to see the state of preservation of each of these post offices. As I mentioned earlier, many of them have been renovated in recent times, but efforts have been made to retain as much of the design as possible, while modernizing the interiors to suit today’s modern world. Now, if only this was true of all our heritage buildings!

Faces in the Crowd - Young Entrepreneur

2013-03-02T16:48:00.002+05:30

Sitting by the window, the full glare of the sun falling on me, my thoughts can't but help return to the wonderful winter vacation we had at Shimla. No wonder then, that my choice for today's Faces in the Crowd is a kid we met at Narkanda.

We had spent hours skiing and playing in the snow at Narkanda, and were heading back, when this little chap came up and asked Samhith if he would like a ride on his sled. Of course, it wasn't really a sled, but just a plank of wood with a string attached to pull it. Samhith, even after all that playing, looked wistful, and the kid looked so earnest, that we agreed. What was meant to be one slide down the snow covered slope turned to much more, as we didn't have the heart to put an end to the fun Samhith was having.

As we waited for Samhith, we realized that this young guy wasn't the only one. There were more like him, all entertaining kids who were too young to ski, charging around Rs. 50 for a ride. The young entrepreneurs certainly made the most of the tourist season! We couldn't but help admiring them, and waited for Samhith to be done, so we could talk to them.

Eventually, when he did ruefully agree to get going, we asked the kid how old he was. It turned out he is at least 2 years older than Samhith!!!! Samhith himself looks small for his age, but this kid seems to be hardly bigger than him. I wonder.. is it in his genes, or is it malnutrition? From what I remember reading somewhere recently, India is said to be the second country with the largest number of malnourished children. Not a statistic to be proud of, certainly!!!!

I tend to brood over such thoughts, which refuse to leave me alone, but my husband has another way of looking at things. When I mentioned this to him, he had a simple explanation - the kid might not know his age, For all you know, he might be younger than Samhith!

So, what do you think?

Skywatch Friday - Annadale, Shimla

2013-03-01T09:36:00.000+05:30

Sometime around the year 1830, a young British officer exploring the area around the still developing hill town of Shimla, came upon a beautiful sight. Amidst the towering mountains, was a small stretch of plain land, a natural tableland, dwarfed by the mountain and forests, but presenting such a lovely view that he was reminded at once of the girl he had once loved, back in England. The man was Captain Charles Pratt Kennedy, the then Political Agent of Shimla, and he named the place ‘Annadale’ after his lost love.

Charles Pratt Kennedy doesn’t seem to have married his lady love... but the name he gave, stuck, and endures, centuries after him. It is sometimes mis-spelled as Annandale, but the romantic origin of the name still remains.

Annadale, in the early days of its discovery, was a popular haunt for the British. They came here for picnics, amusements, and games, and the ground became a popular haunt for polo matches. With the passage of time, the ground played host to races as well as cricket matches, and, with after Independence, was handed over to the Indian Army, which uses it as a helipad. If you look close, you can even see a helicopter there..

I wish the ground was still used for Polo or cricket... or even racing. It would be fun to see any sports held there. Meanwhile, the Army Heritage Museum at Annadale is worth a visit. More about that later....

Meanwhile, visit the Skywatch Friday page for more beautiful images from around the world!

Book Review: The Aryavarta Chronicles, Book 1: Govinda by Krishna Udayasankar

2013-02-28T22:13:00.001+05:30

Govinda. We know him by many names – Krishna, the dark one, Vaasudeva, the son of Vasudev, Gopala – the cowherd, and many more. Then why Govinda? Why choose this among all his names?

This was one of the questions on my mind when I began reading “The Aryavarta Chronicles, Book 1: Govinda” by Krishna Udayasankar. You can gauge the detailed work the author has put into it, simply by the beautiful way she explains her choice of name. She elaborates, not in the foreword or in any explanatory notes, but instead, through the words of Balabhadra, whom we also know as Balarama, Krishna’s older brother –

“They used to call you Krishna because of your dark skin. It was I who gave you the name Govinda. Did you think it was just another name for a gwala boy? The name contained all you meant to me. The cows that we used to tend are just metaphors for the senses with which every human chases the light of truth, the quest that defines us in every waking moment. You were a herdsman of these senses, my brother. You made me believe in the goodness of human beings, you made me dream of a better world, of something to live for, and that is why I named you Govinda”

What a beautiful way to describe Krishna! He is the one who did not take up arms in the Great War, but it is he who stands out among all those warriors. He might never have been a king, but he was accepted to be greater than all the kings put together. He was witness to, and even brought about events that brought about destruction on a scale never seen before. Yet, it is he who stands tall as a beacon of hope and goodness. Is it any wonder that we pray to Krishna as a God? And yet, this book is not just about Krishna. It is not the story of the simple and loveable cowherd Krishna. It is the story of the adult Krishna, the silent force behind the events of the Mahabharata.

The Mahabharata, as has been said often, means different things to different people. It is a story of politics, of intrigue, of statesmanship, of right and wrong, of duties and responsibility. But above all, it is history... or to put it more plausibly, a distorted version of history, where we have elevated historical characters to the status of gods and demigods. Hidden somewhere amidst the ever growing tree of mythology is a kernel of truth – the history of our ancestors. It is this history that Krishna Udayasankar tries to explore, in her own rendition of Vyasa’s immortal epic.

As she says, in the words of Yuyudhana,

“...what we call the beginning of civilization is really only the beginning of recorded history. The further we go back in time, the less we are certain about. Different people then begin to interpret and understand things differently. Some of these stories become indestructible myths and even acquire a supernatural tinge, because we start taking literally what might have been merely symbolic.”

As the title suggests, this is the story of Aryavarta – not just India, but the Indian Subcontinent as a whole. Its only southern India, or Dakshinavarta, which is excluded from this, mentioned only as the land chosen by the descendents of Pulastya, and as the abode of kings of the monkey banner. The residents of these lands are all the descendents of the 5 children of Brahma, the creator. From the lineage of the Firstborn Vasistha Varuna comes Vyasa; Kashyapa’s descendants are the kings of the Solar Dynasty, and from Atri’s lineage comes the Lunar Dynasty- the Kauravas, the Pandavas, the Yadus, and the Panchalas. Agni Angirasa’s kin are the Firewrights – those who have learnt to control the elements to their advantage, the scientists and the innovators of that era, and as for Pulastya’s descendants, this story is not about them.

The story begins at a time when Aryavarta is under the reign of Jarasandha. Most of the rulers of the independent states are his vassals, and satisfied with their status. Under this sheet of apparent calm are undercurrents, and further below, is a war that has been going on a long time – a war between the Firstborn and the Firewrights. The Firstborn, under the leadership of the Vyasa Dwaipayana, begin the tedious process of gathering and managing the collective knowledge of Aryavarta, creating an intricate system of scriptures and rituals. They are the ones who lay down the rules, determine right and wrong, moral and immoral. This power gives rise to a clash between them and the Firewrights, who as inventors, prefer to live by their own rules. This conflict of power leads to a drawn out war, which has lasted years, and has resulted in the almost complete extinction of the Firewrights by the time the story begins. It is this conflict which forms the essence of the book, and what I found most interesting about it. It challenges our concepts of the epic as we know it. It raises questions of right and wrong, and it makes us wonder about our own predilections too.

However, the conflict is not simply between the Firstborn and the Firewrights, There is another clash too... One that’s just below the surface, not as apparent, but still there, showing up every now and then... the clash between the classes, within the social fabric of the land. One where the Aryas, the nobles, consider themselves over and above the common men, where they believe that they have been born to rule, and that they alone, should. They are benevolent rulers, no doubt, but they fear the change in this accepted structure with the arrival of Govinda – a man of royal blood, but born in captivity, one who has lived his life as a cowherd, and even after victory, refuses the throne which is rightfully his. They cannot understand his abandonment of Mathura, and thus question his bravery, his intentions. They cannot accept the democratic rule he implements at Dwaraka, and fear his rise to power with the other kingdoms at Aryavarta. These layers and layers are what make this book not just an interesting, but thought provoking read.

Getting along with the story, it is one we are familiar with.... which is why, the characters are such a surprise. As befitting the epic, there are too many characters, but each of them is perfectly sketched. We see a different side of Shikandin, a completely new Sanjaya, an unexpected facet of Dharma, and a Panchali who is truly a queen fit to be an empress. And these are just a few. The best part of the book is undoubtedly Krishna Udayasankar’s portrayal of her innumerable characters. She has given every single one of them a voice of their own, which gives them their very own identity.... no matter how short their role.

There are surprises at every turn.... from Panchali’s marriage to the burning of Kandava. The killing of Jarasandha is a beautifully worked piece, bringing up questions of who is a good ruler. The empire building journey is an eye opener, showing us the warriors as they must have been, facing challenges we never read about elsewhere. Govinda’s interaction with the Kritya brings up thoughts about present day assassins, and the passage with Garud is simply too beautiful for words!

And finally, there is Govinda.... slowly working his way to make the best of the situation. As he explains himself towards the end to Panchali –

“ Always, always, I’ve tried to do what was right, what was in the interest of the greatest number, what was for the greater good of all. And that’s what your empire is – it’s a chance for us, the people of Aryavarta – not just its elite rulers – to find peace. It’s a chance for reason to prevail.”

There are many reasons that make this book as interesting as it is, but above all, there is the huge amount of research that has gone into it. Krishna Udayasankar treats it, not simply as a work of mythological fiction, but almost as a literary thesis, giving us a long list of sources and methods used, right at the very end. The references don’t just give you an idea of all the hard work, but beyond that, for the lover of the genre, this is a step to finding our own way into the world that once was.

P.S. I won the book as a prize for the Mythology edition of #TSBC, as I mentioned earlier. I wasn’t really required to write a review, but the book refused to lie low, and I read and re-read it till I just had to write about it just to leave it aside and go on to the next book awaiting me J