The Perfect Blend - Us Two

The sight of that carbon black surface, smooth and solid to the touch, the weight of its shaft firmly caressing my palm; its body the perfect fit for my hand. Holding it close to my face, as if the perfect bend us two – it’s cool persona and my warm skin. 

My left hand reaches out to its base like as if caressing its neck just before a strong kiss. The right reaching out to the lens adjusting the view of the scene ahead. Then a pause to relish what we see – it was never just a click. Photography, my first love, this is an ode to thee.  

But that there is where I need to rewind. Lost? Why so? No. Lost no more. Adjust the frame and look, closely. At every undulating shadow, that dew drop just about to roll off that fresh vivid leaf. Look closely.

There was a point I remember all those years ago when I thought I faced a block. A photographers block if you will. Why? That urge to lift the camera to my eye, frame and shoot not an urge anymore. A transition of sorts.

I wondered was I leaving the art or was the art leaving me? Then I reasoned with myself – do I have to capture moments with a lens and a camera each time, isn't it enough to record it in my mind’s eye and save it there for eternity? Many agreed with me, the profound need of the statement leaving an incomplete silence in its wake. But I knew that was not all, I was missing something, a reason for this transition.

That’s when writing happened to me. And Photography stepped back, for a while. Through cliche phrases, through oft repeated lines, I pursued; each time expressing more of what I feel. 

Me: Clear that clutter (to that special someone, recently)

Him: Yes there are a couple of photographs I can discard. 

Me: Why would you do that? I ask.

Him: Keep only memories, memories in the mind.

Me: Oh but its the photographs that come in handy when the mind does not.

Those worlds...a bell rings... in the mindless recesses, when he reiterated the same words I convinced myself and the world into believing. A memory tells us only the things we want to remember, see. A photograph tells us things the way they truly were and that in itself is their purpose.

A writing community gave me feedback – there is so much adventure in your travels they said, tell us all about it, tell us what you see, paint that picture. We’ll know how you feel. 

That process of photography – to set your eyes on a single frame, touch every tone of its entity with your vision. Create, compose, may be even construct a scene the way you want it and then record it until eternity – that is what I was always meant to do. 

A Montage of Words

The past couple of weeks have been all about reading, writing and research; with worlds seeming to have enveloped me in a cocoon. As I stepped out for my morning run this Sunday morning too I was shown visually intriguing montages of our daily, seemingly mundane lives transforming themselves into candid frames for my study and observation. So after the end of the run, a collective of words seemed to have strung themselves in a memory game, as I progressed with each kilometer finding itself intertwined with the previous, compelling me to memorise the sequence for a complete string of 10.    

I read somewhere that focusing on a mantra helps dispel distractions while you focus on your run. It’s all nice to say but seldom easy to have a one point focus on a thought for all the while throughout your run. This is a string of scenes I came across during my Sunday run; one world sprung to mind for each one with seemed to have synced itself with every kilometer I covered. 

1. Breakfast. What’s a rickshaw to you today? A mode of transport, bringing to mind a foul interaction with the dozen or so drivers who refuse to take you to your destination each day? No none of that, thank you. Jogging along the Bandstand promenade, my eyes fell on a scene of cupcakes, bread and chai adorning the back seat of a rickshaw. It was a simple breakfast laid out neatly for two, the driver soulfully sipping his morning cuppa and a friend partaking in the sweetmeats. Both commuter and driver sipping a bite and pleasurably watching the morning surfs chime in. Doubt the most expensive bungalows on that route could experience this luxury.  It’s the kind of image that gives Bombay a happy candid allure as opposed to this rushed manic Mumbai we are a part of each day.
2. Play. Come let’s play I could almost hear him saying. A bunch of stray dogs loitering around a path in my run, one of them having found an interesting piece of scrap long enough for two of the dogs to wrestle with. So he playfully prances to his friend on the extreme right and nudges him with his muzzle, come let’s play! A noticeable change in their stride I saw, a graceful hybrid between a hop and a gallop. It just made me so happy. Later on my run tracking app Endomodo I noticed that particular km was my fastest, wonder whether that those few minutes their enthusiasm mingled with mine. 

Breakfast. Play. Each thought compiled into a single composite word, nice I think..

3. Night out. A threesome step out of a vehicle, their Saturday night out bling still on, perhaps just about done with their all night revelries, the girls holding their stilettos in hand and the guy groggily leading them to a coffee shop. I am not much of a party animal, yet a minuscule pang of jealousy sprouts, hmm. Moving on. 

Breakfast. Play. Night out. Each kilometer personifying into a character of its own..

4. Food. A taxi driver almost done with his routine of washing up and sprucing up his wagon for the day, steps on to the side walk opens up a bag and spreads a bundle full of dry rice grains on to the floor. The light pit pat of the grains meeting the floor and the soft flutter of sparrows flying in for that generous meal, aha! It’s a mundane act, so full of compassion that its magic is so fleeting; it made me smile and thank the goodness in us all for making me a witness to it.    

Breakfast. Play. Night out. Food. Over and over I kept repeating the words, by now it was clear they demanded retention, assuring me of a well strung set..

5. Love. A lady stands with two dogs on leash, both standing in sync tall and proud of their doting human parent. No she was not cuddling and caressing either of them but a fellow third dog, albeit a stray one but a distant cousin or friend from another life. The joy with with he responded to her touch and the indulgent affection she showered on him even while her two own stood by..

This was getting tough for me, what with the short term memory retention issues I face.. yet I persisted - Breakfast. Play. Night out. Food. Love.

6. Privilege.  A black SUV, with very dark tinted glasses, and a big Maharashtra govt number plate is parked on the side of the road. A girl sits in, clearly waiting for her partner to come back. As I cross the car I see a group of young men sharing chai and smokes and whiling away an early morning in general, on my return from the same route I see one of those boys but his smoke and head back to the car. Citizens of the country are made to strip off the tinted shields from their cars after a case of molestation with a fine to all those who disobey. Yet this young chap, clearly a son of one of the great leaders of our country drives a vehicle with dark tinted glasses. As he turns on the ignition I think, what’s the point of privilege if its almost always exploited.

The rhythm set, my limbs flowing in sync with each other, not a move out of place, albeit slow but maintaining the rhythm. This mantra seemed to be helping. Breakfast. Play. Night out. Food. Love. Privilege.  

7. Solitary. It was like someone cut-pasted her out of a countryside scene into this urban landscape. There she was, this frail, old lady with a stack of firewood cradled with one arim on her head and a bundle of her belongings held protectively in the other. She walked barefoot on this narrow cobbled road as I jogged by and it almost felt like I was an out of place coloured blotch in this classic candid black and white photograph/ I almost saw her in black and white.

Now it was getting tough, both the run and the retention. ‘I am not playing this stupid game anymore,’ the mind says. Hmm. Breakfast. Play. Night out. Food. Love. Privilege. Solitary.      

8. Muscle moving on from that almost skeletal frame I see this mammoth creature, weighed down by his bulk. Rippling muscles from every sinewy his body, this man walks on in that classic body builder gait. We seemed to exchange a look that said, “Ah we all do what we think we want, sometimes not doing what we really need.”

‘Ok, now that’s it, you don’t think this is silly this Breakfast, Play, Night out, Food, Love, Privilege, Solitary, Muscle! They don’t even mean anything. How about we slow down and enjoy this gorgeous breeze’

Aha, nice, the mind was actually retaining it, so I said, ‘No, just a couple more, don’t disturb me now.’    

9. Study. I have completed a circuit around Bandra’s promenades by now and head towards Joggers park; just as I enter I see a boy slip but catch himself just before he tripped, another scene for my mind to get curious about.  The boy bends down to pick up a packet of biscuits that fell to the muddy track. As he bends picking up his snack for the day, my eyes trail to his left hand holding the bible of most last minute studying students - the Navneet Digest. I smile as I remember all those years ago, those last minute attempts to remember one line answers. I wonder though, how he planned to study in the midst of the many distractions in the park, but then I think who am I to judge.

I am not moving another step, I hear my mind say just as an alarm of my limbs slowing down strikes. Err no you don’t! Panic! What was it? Privilege? Something to do with dogs? What was it! I can’t remember!

BREATHE. Calm Down.

Ahh, something to do with an important part of the day? Ah yes! Breakfast.

Breakfast. Play. Night out. Food. Love. Privilege. Solitary. Muscle. Study.      

10. Celebration. The street is a buzz with the inaugural ceremony of an edifice made in honour of Sachin Tendulkar, on an otherwise quiet Sunday. Honestly I’d rather they have invested all that money in cleaning up the beach beyond the promenade. Rather I see it all neatly covered so as not to mar the celebrations of the day, a token to our favourite son of Bandra they say!

A new scene, I am glad the mind found something intriguing enough to overlook the apparent exhaustion during this last kilometer. Let’s check again what was it..

Breakfast. Play. Night Out. Food. Love. Privilege. Solitary. Muscle. Celebration      

What’s happened amazed me as every scene I came across triggered a thought. Each one of them could have lead to a barrage of thoughts and pretty much foiled my 10 km run plan. But the thoughts seemed to work in unison, they singled out a world representing each of them making it a string of montages and memories. What is a mantra but a set of world designed to help you maintain a single minded focus, this was it. The mantra that formed itself during the course of my run and made me repeat it till the end. It was a sum total of all my thoughts during the run and at the same time a focused rendition of one entirety with each thought somehow in sync with the next.    

Why have I shared this post on a travel blog you ask? because my mind travels even when I run. 

I Used to Travel to Escape

I used to travel to escape

Escape the familiar, the complex

I ask myself now, was it just that?

Was it not my instinct to explore, reach out, change

A beckon from the pulse of the intrepid, the surge of chaos?   

Now I travel to understand

Understand that people essentially everywhere are good

That goodness I feel when I am part of a sunrise,

That rush when I catch a train on time.

For a moment, a silent prayerful moment

In the blue mosque

I see a little girl

Silently observe the world go by

With a hand absentmindedly holding on to her grand dad.

Its just that. This pleasure of our travels,

It takes us by the hand

Silently, playfully,

Through the world’s wonders, its colours its splendours

For just that one magical moment, that warm smile from a stranger,

That is what I travelled all those miles away to experience,

Now, 

I travel to feel.   

To feel, to believe.

Calling All Digital Nomads, Head to Ghoomakad

Quitting a day job and running away to the hills seems like a romantic idea? We entertain it over a cuppa and conversations with friends, but leave it at that. And then I met a group of people who went ahead and did it. This is their story.

The welcoming party, Team Ghoomakad 

Digital Nomads

Fine things churn out of debauchery, so say the likes of those who have tasted extremes. Ayush Ghai and Pratyush, founders of mindgrep.com and Metataste, a personalised movie discovery engine perhaps experienced an epiphany, a calling on one of those traffic ridden commutes from their Delhi city existence. “I just want to go to the hills and never come back, are you in?” Ayush asks his long standing footloose friend Pratyush. And the story begins.  

(l-r) Pratyush, Jubin and Ayush

They set out to Himachal, lived out of their rucksacks, digital nomads pruning the city air out of their systems. “I am not going back, I don’t know about you” said Pratyush, smitten by the mountain air. Yes, I’d like that too, but we need to look for a place to set base,” replied Ayush. Now both the young lads, digital nomads, entrepreneurs in their right, yet still they needed a base, an anchor, not a hotel, something they could make their home in the hills. A quest for such an anchor thus began, they travelled through the villages, knocked on every door, explained their purpose. The stars aligned in a little village called Rakkar, 12 kms away from the popular tourist town of Dharamshala.

From the Founder

Our host Mohinder with Guddi

Meet Mohinder Sharma, resident of Rakkar, visionary among his people, and the first in his family to receive an education. He is well aware of concepts like sustainable development, eco tourism and was looking to connect with like-minds to help him kick-start his ideas. He said, “We are shepherds by profession; our ancestors led a nomadic existence travelling from one pasture to the other. Our homes were simple, made of mud and stone. They kept us warm in winters and kept out the heat in summers. Besides they looked so beautiful. And when we moved on, the people after us could use all that natural building material for their farms. Now with everyone building fixed ugly dabba cement homes, it only pollutes the environment. So I decided to build my home in a sustainable way just like my ancestors and invite travellers into my home for an authentic Himachali home stay experience.”

“I found it difficult to reach out to travellers, to share the idea of Ghoomakad with travellers and when Pratyush and Ayush landed at my door step, it was exactly what I needed.”

With a home base, wifi in the hills, these tech boys were all set to live their dream. Waking up to the sight of the Dhauladhar maintain range, a game of soccer with the village kids and then off to work by the stream flowing nearby, a work space and home stay with all the amenities of a city and the picturesque mountain-scapes was all set up. Jubin Mehta, a writer and story teller who joined the two tech boys a year back shares, “Once on a trek to Triund, I was travelling solo so had carried all my tech bags along, tech gadgets included and when I reach the top of the hill I was surprised to find amazing data connectivity at the top too. What more could I have asked for!” Moving to the mountains followed suit.  

Ayush notes suggestions during a brainstorming session with villagers, in the midst of a weave   

Glocalisation & Collaboration

My preference of stay to each destination I travel has always steered towards student hostels or home stays as opposed to hotels. I have found the experience of living with a local and exploring its flavours that much more wholesome than the objective hotel experience. And with online platforms like Airbnb connecting people, it is just a matter of time when hotels will cease to be the first choice for accommodations.    

Ghoomakad I’d say, it is an ideal experience for digital nomads, entrepreneurs and travellers alike. At Ghoomakad I experienced glocalisation in its truest form; with an evening spent watching live webcasts from Germany about the future of computing and the next spent with locals discussing organic farming initiatives and sustainable infrastructure in the village. It was amazing to see the openness with which the city bred tech brains aligned their thought processes with that of the simple, practical farmer and house maid, the toughest problems being solved with the simple collaborative ideas. This element of involvement is what was endearing.

Travel, yes; but if while travelling you’d like to do something, contribute to a sustainable goal, head to Ghoomakad, a work space, a home stay in the hills for wanderers and thinkers alike.

Website: http://ghoomakad.im/

Email: ghoomakad.im@gmail.com

Call: 09882226638 (Mohinder)

Goan River Rum, I mean Run!

As part of a ritual started off back in my college days, a trip to Goa was in order this December. Not just to be a beach bum but more to explore its lesser known locales. I chanced upon the Goa River Marathon one fine day and thought what a unique addition to the trip this will be! So I logged in, registered.

Over a 10 kilometer down hill and uphill route, across a river and onward to the beach, a route that took me around one of the few green stretches of Goa that was not open to exploring on foot, but for this day. I have to tell you, I am not much of a runner, more like a jogger, a slow one at that. So 10 kilometers can be a pretty long excursion, I am sure you will agree! Did I have a plan, a target time in which to complete the run you ask? Of course, not! Like Lao Tuz says, "A good traveller has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving." 

(l to r) My sister Yuktie Jhangiani, I and Girish Mallya, a photo op before the run with the ultra marathoner 

So I set off, half strolling, half brisk walking, taking to jogging only due to a nudge from down hill slopes. A friend's exasperated expression, "A run in Goa, you got to be kidding me!" brings a lazy grin to my face seeing as I am doing anything but running. 

As I reach the tip of another hill, I see a group of men and women huffing and puffing in the opposite direction of the run. I try to reach out to them to say, "Hey you are heading in the wrong direction." Before I voice my concerns, one of the men ask a police man standing near by, "How far is the station? We will miss our train!" That's when I notice bags strapped to their backs, and hand bags being shuffled between the group. A mental calculation suggested we were a good three kilometres away. I nod in approval, "A valid and relevant reason to run, that, yes." 

Another turn along the route and just as I began day dreaming again I notice something small and dark running towards me with such speed. No no it wasn't one of the super sprinters, they had whizzed pass a while back. My defense mechanism finally kicks in and I - yes - run! As I flew past the 6 kilometer mark the black shadowed creature ever reducing the distance between us, I saw him bend his head and flare his nostrils - a goat! I cry, a goat is attacking me! 

"What did I do!" I cry! And I wont lie this tale is true! 

Come to think of it now, I think it was a conspiracy to make me run, as with a little under two kilometres remaining, I ran for my life! From a goat, yes. I was later told the goat lost interest in the pursuit after spotting another unassuming innocent target. I wonder what it was I did that made him chase me so!      

The finish line, yes I ran here

Enjoyed I did in that gorgeous weather, beautiful route, what with rolling hills, being fed with little treats of oranges, bananas and more (courtesy the gracious Goa Marathon Team) and fab encouragement at every kilometer. It wasn't much of a river run though, what with parts of it resembling a sewer, but leading it back to Biana beach was a super idea - with the cool waves just perfect for those tired feet.   

Did I mention I was yelled at for being slow? "Its just 500 meters away, run, don't smile! yells a volunteer near the finish line. Ahh, the pleasures of leisure travel, what does he know.

101 Reasons to Travel

1. Travel to explore

2. Travel to change

3. Travel to experience

4. Travel to let go

5. Travel to get lost

6. Travel to be found 

7. Travel to find

8. Travel to step out of your comfort zone

9. Travel for perspective 

10.Travel for conversations

11. Travel for photographs

12. Travel to complete

13. Travel to compete

14. Travel to the past

15. Travel for the future

16. Travel in the present

17. Travel for romance

18. Travel to dare

19. Travel to lend a helping hand

20. Travel to teach

21. Travel to learn

22. Travel to dream

23. Travel to achieve

24. Travel to express

25. Travel to conserve

26. Travel to share

27. Travel to discover

28. Travel for friends

29. Travel for reasons

30. Travel for seasons

31. Travel to witness

32. Travel to laugh

33. Travel to cry

34. Travel to shock

35. Travel to surprise

36. Travel to the unknown

37. Travel to invent

38. Travel for music

39. Travel for festivals

40. Travel to drive

41. Travel for that heady feeling

42. Travel to help

43. Travel to guide

44. Travel to meet

45. Travel to leave

46. Travel to reach out

47. Travel to reach within

48. Travel to write

49. Travel to work

50. Travel for adventure

51. Travel to play

52. Travel to pray

53. Travel for the memories

54. Travel for the stories

55. Travel to confuse

56. Travel to amuse

57. Travel to lose

58. Travel to loose

59. Travel to hear

60. Travel to see

61. Travel to touch

62. Travel to feel

63. Travel to taste

64. Travel to smell

65. Travel to spend

66. Travel for time

67. Travel in time

68. Travel before it gets too late

69. Travel to gift

70. Travel to give

71. Travel to receive

72. Travel to believe

73. Travel to hope

74. Travel to sleep

75. Travel to awaken

76. Travel to introspect

77. Travel to respect

78. Travel for the mountains

79. Travel for the sea

80. Travel for the colours

81. Travel for the rain

82. Travel for harvest

83. Travel for spring

84. Travel for winter

85. Travel for summer

86. Travel to hide

87. Travel to simply be

88. Travel to imagine

89. Travel to wish

90. Travel to create

91. Travel to picture

92. Travel to paint

93. Travel to speak

94. Travel to listen

95. Travel to observe

96. Travel to seek

97. Travel to understand

98. Travel for your kids

99. Travel for patience

   100. Travel for wisdom

   101. Travel for the Love of Travel.

Dare to (day) Dream

You've entered the boss's durbar awaiting his precious digits on a mundane draft, your eyes dare to go where your feet don't..towards the big fat not so flat globe sitting smug on that grand oak desk. "Its been a while we met really, come on, give it a swish," your imagination kicks in and ha! The world swirls and says Sawasdee..Applause, clap, tap, cheer, poping champagne, "you just won a trip to your most favorite destination,"says the boss handing you a premier ticket to your dream destination."tap, tap, Smack!

That was boss waking you up from a midday drea...dataentry.

Travel More

Are you a checklist traveller or an experience traveller? The first question posed by my morning paper. Without a doubt, being the exotic places seeking, pillow loving, long story book liking lazy daisy I am, me being an experiential traveller seemed more like it.

Besides, the sound of a ‘checklist’ traveller seems like a lot of work(be  forewarned, pillow loving person talking)  

Entering the maze of cabinets, I begin sifting..sifting through memories of all my travels. 

In Paris, rambling along the Champ Elysee, reaching the Louvre but not necessarily entering it, sitting by the lawns, rosé in hand, appreciating a beautiful watercolour painting unfold in my midst..

Come to think of it, a similar memory back home, in Mumbai, sitting by cafe by the sea, watching as another beautiful painting takes form. Both memories were neatly stored in the same cabinet, top drawer, file number 1a and b.

 Both experiences gathered from a different time and place.

So don’t go to Paris you ask? Nahi nahi! The Holidaywalas will go out of business!

It’s a contemplative attempt to understand the romance; or rather the enlightenment; experiential enlightenment of travel.  

Each experience makes me free to explore my own land.

Rather myself.

Each travel experience taught me that people are all essentially, fundamentally the same.

So by going to Paris, crossing off every famous monument from your check list, heading back triumphantly to tell your colleagues of your touch and go tour, what I ask have you experienced?

I ask myself..is this the pillow lover talking or the experiential traveller?

You’d rather not say! Let’s just say: 

Travel where your feet take you.

That Heady Feeling Again!

This is not a write up about a place you are about to visit or may like to visit any time, its not an expression of a beautiful locale and all the fun things you can do there..

It’s about that heady felling..

You’ve just hung up the phone and what immediately overwhelms you is that heady feeling..
You begin drafting your leave application letter and just as Mr. Boss signs it off, you’re off!
“A shawl perhaps, it’s going to be chilly out there in the open jungle of Ranthambore” You think; or “I’ll need those waterproof shoes for the rafting sector of that trek,” you plan.

A backpack, loafers, mosquitoes’ repellent, camera, ipod, floppy hat, sunglasses, swim suit, clothes, shoes, lotions and potions...all spell - A Holiday!

That heady feeling of excitement as the Rajdhani chugs onto Mumbai Central’s platform, you’re going to get on it, set your luggage under those nostalgia filled blue seats.
As the sun sets, you sit yourself or with your gang on the train steps, some smoking chai or sipping sutta. And as the train stops on a deserted station in the middle of nowhere, you quickly slip on your loafers and step out into the chilli night sky, blowing smoke rings.

Be it a road trip, flight or a sojourn by sea; the journey itself is what gives you that heady feeling.

So as a fellow traveller, I say this – don’t rush it, live that moment to its fullest, before you know it, you’ll have reached your destination, sauntered around only to get back to an overflowing inbox.

Roads oft Travelled

Trying to get myself to sleep last night, I got this random thought (one of the zillion, I'am sure you’ll agree) – A thought that life seems like a series of roads – roads we travel by to the destinations we have to reach.

Let me explain.
Starting from base camp – Mumbai.
Mumbai’s pot holed roads. Tell me, sometimes doesn’t life get way too bumpy, so bumpy that your eyes stray into the rare view mirror and say, “Hey, this has to be Mumbai??”

Or talk about some stomach lurching bends – everything’s going awesome, your friends are back, great job, a promise of something lovely and then – a steep hairpin bend – am back to the roads of Ladakh!

A synonym, a metaphor, but life sure seems like the roads we travel by...

Happiness..pure bliss – like the Mumbai-Pune express way! A new beginning in a relationship or friendship – like the mystery of an undefined forest trail, a dirt track – like the first question to a terrible exam paper... you see the metaphor emerge!

They indeed are, Roads oft Travelled..

Dying for a Road Trip

So the thing is, I am almost done with my course, the PGDM in Mass Com, and the first obvious thing that comes to my mind is - I have to go, some where any where, my favourite pace in the word may be - Leh, or a road trip down south may be - right up to the tip - Kanyakumari!

That feeling you get as you step into the Rajdhani knowing its your first step to reach the crisp chill in the hills..

Packing your brand new Woodlands for the trek up north and comfortable in the security of their 'I will never fail you' message.

Wow, I miss taking off! After two years of studying(ok, I admit lots of lukhagiri too)everyone's worried about placements, a good paypackage, etc. etc. But I just wanna go. Continue my travels, photograph, write, and travel some more..

Any Godfather out there willing to sponsor this child's dream?

Seriously.