The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I got miles to go before I sleep
and Miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost (1874-1963)
Monday, December 19, 2011
WRT
WRT- previous post, for those who did not use short forms in class notes its With Reference to. ( I could have written the full form itself instead of such a long explanation)
Any way, in the graveyard where we were, in the photographers lingo, shooting around, few kids, obviously excited looking at what we were doing, gave us company for a while. I have to say they were not only fun but were not at all shy of the camera! check out the photos you will know.
Any way, in the graveyard where we were, in the photographers lingo, shooting around, few kids, obviously excited looking at what we were doing, gave us company for a while. I have to say they were not only fun but were not at all shy of the camera! check out the photos you will know.
Rajdhani Express 3
Weekend one
The morning alarm was an awaited one. A 200km journey on the cards. Where to? To one of the wonders of the world. One of the most famous grave sites. The Pyramids of Giza and Aztecs might come in your head. It is because I have not mentioned the purpose behind this grave. Love. This marble edifice has found its place in every Indian’s heart. Form some its an inspiration for some it is the poster on the Barbers door. But they know the Taj Mahal.
Blame the harmones or how our civilization has progressed; the thumping of a 350cc motorbike is always music to a boy’s ear. We ride on meticulously laid out roads. Stopping for the occasional tea. But the civilized roads, like civilization itself, met its end. An incomplete expressway. We continue on mud. Much slower. More dirtier. Manuvering on the muddy “motorable” service road is like our country’s state. We have tasted the fruits of development. But we are on a slow track now. Bumpy and dusty. On One side is the lure of the lush green fields of prosperity, while on the other is the grey dry development. We have so far moved on enjoying both the sides. Each separately. But will these three paths meet somewhere in the future. Not in the near future. May be the distant one.
The aim was to visit one of the most Islamic grave site. We ended up in an Islamic graveyard alright. But it was nowhere close to Agra. We were in a graveyard for the worshippers of Mecca, in one of the holiest places for the Hindus. Mathura. It was here , these very grounds , where lord Krishna took birth. Like most religious centers, Mathura is also dirty. The roads are filled with dust ,dung and devotion. It is one of those places which has an identity crisis whether it is a village, a town or a city.
We were there, deciding whether to head to Taj or take a U-turn and find a road, a proper road back to Delhi. Our thoughts were like a pendulum, until we saw the temple with around 200 people, lined up in front of the temple and countless more inside, to have one look at the idol. Devotion and belief acted as force fields to the people who were waiting outside. The dry afternoon sun, the dust from the roads, the smoke from the vehicles, cow dung filled streets , nothing mattered. Their souls needed no cleansing, it was their feet and faces that needed some.
From that sight the bike had a mind of its own and decided to take the highway. Stopping occasionally at dhabhas and tea stalls we reached back with a lot of memories and a lot more road sense!!
The morning alarm was an awaited one. A 200km journey on the cards. Where to? To one of the wonders of the world. One of the most famous grave sites. The Pyramids of Giza and Aztecs might come in your head. It is because I have not mentioned the purpose behind this grave. Love. This marble edifice has found its place in every Indian’s heart. Form some its an inspiration for some it is the poster on the Barbers door. But they know the Taj Mahal.
Blame the harmones or how our civilization has progressed; the thumping of a 350cc motorbike is always music to a boy’s ear. We ride on meticulously laid out roads. Stopping for the occasional tea. But the civilized roads, like civilization itself, met its end. An incomplete expressway. We continue on mud. Much slower. More dirtier. Manuvering on the muddy “motorable” service road is like our country’s state. We have tasted the fruits of development. But we are on a slow track now. Bumpy and dusty. On One side is the lure of the lush green fields of prosperity, while on the other is the grey dry development. We have so far moved on enjoying both the sides. Each separately. But will these three paths meet somewhere in the future. Not in the near future. May be the distant one.
The aim was to visit one of the most Islamic grave site. We ended up in an Islamic graveyard alright. But it was nowhere close to Agra. We were in a graveyard for the worshippers of Mecca, in one of the holiest places for the Hindus. Mathura. It was here , these very grounds , where lord Krishna took birth. Like most religious centers, Mathura is also dirty. The roads are filled with dust ,dung and devotion. It is one of those places which has an identity crisis whether it is a village, a town or a city.
We were there, deciding whether to head to Taj or take a U-turn and find a road, a proper road back to Delhi. Our thoughts were like a pendulum, until we saw the temple with around 200 people, lined up in front of the temple and countless more inside, to have one look at the idol. Devotion and belief acted as force fields to the people who were waiting outside. The dry afternoon sun, the dust from the roads, the smoke from the vehicles, cow dung filled streets , nothing mattered. Their souls needed no cleansing, it was their feet and faces that needed some.
From that sight the bike had a mind of its own and decided to take the highway. Stopping occasionally at dhabhas and tea stalls we reached back with a lot of memories and a lot more road sense!!
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Rajdhani Express 2
THE CITY
A week into the fast paced life of the rajdhani. This city has a soul of its own. Wide arteries and veins, with fast moving people , who are the blood of this control room of civilization. It is wired mixture. Fast paced life, impatient people, with a lot of places of civilized relaxation. Mammoth concrete structures juxtaposed against historical buildings, imperial mansions and religious houses. People run. Run across roads. Run for work. Run for trains. Buses. Run from each other. Run for time. Sometimes against it. Every citizen trying to make a kingdom out of his own world, in a city of plenty and a city of constraints. Petrol bunks, Gas stations fuel the busses and autos. Chole bature , parota push carts fuel the people and rickshaw wallas. Did the city conquer the state? Or did the state devour the city? Or do the kingdoms of all citizen merge in unison? Delhi is something to be experienced.
A week into the fast paced life of the rajdhani. This city has a soul of its own. Wide arteries and veins, with fast moving people , who are the blood of this control room of civilization. It is wired mixture. Fast paced life, impatient people, with a lot of places of civilized relaxation. Mammoth concrete structures juxtaposed against historical buildings, imperial mansions and religious houses. People run. Run across roads. Run for work. Run for trains. Buses. Run from each other. Run for time. Sometimes against it. Every citizen trying to make a kingdom out of his own world, in a city of plenty and a city of constraints. Petrol bunks, Gas stations fuel the busses and autos. Chole bature , parota push carts fuel the people and rickshaw wallas. Did the city conquer the state? Or did the state devour the city? Or do the kingdoms of all citizen merge in unison? Delhi is something to be experienced.
Rajdhani Express 1
And all of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain…..
The unforgettable words of R L Stevenson fill my head , as my hair is styled by the wind and my eyes survey the fast moving sights of far away hills, plains brown green and yellow. The fragrance of the earth is abruptly interrupted by the smell of the engines smoke. Rhythmic beats of the metal wheels and rails and long solos by the rail horn. Rexin seats, the comfort of being uncomfortable. This is truly a sensuous experience.
14 hours have passed since the experience started. 16 more to go. The journey from the south of India to the capital is an enriching experience. The sights are sounds of the journey provide the background score for the nostalgic stories of co passengers. “I ran and caught a train once”, “..one of the cleanest stations..”, “…it was the time of emergency..”. Mundane stories fuelled by enthusiasm act a catalysts to conversations. No topic is left untouched. Opinions, analysis, criticisms, facts and even gossip.
Three people from three completely different areas of work, interests amd origin share the journey. One a businessman, frequent on trains, thanks to all the trade fairs. Two , an army man, travelling to report to duty after a break. Three, its I. travelling with a purpose, a purpose of change.
There might be some thoughts which people get when they travel by rail. How did they lay the tracks? How did they plan it? To name a few. One question I got in my mind, for which the answer is not measurable. How much can we learn from co passengers? By learn, I want to stress that this is education not by syllabus but by lived experience. This education has no theorems nor ant formulae, no thesis or anti thesis, no assignments nor exams, but this interaction, teaches. With the small amount of time I have spent with my co passengers I have learnt History, geography, politics, anthropology and even cooking. If I ever become a citizen capable of influencing policy making, or if I ever get the power itself , I would certainly make 30 hour train journeys in Second class a mandatory assignment for college students. They need not write any reports of the journey nor give colourful power point presentations, they just have to make the journey.
The train moves from one state to the other. As I write this previous statement, two things come into my mind. Imagine a train which could move from one state of matter to another? I bet Ms Rowling did not get this idea! The other thought is that our mind is like a train on a long journey. Our mind, working constantly trying to reach reason, trying to reach destinations, chugs along. Our minds move from one state to the other too, more frequently than our travelling counterpart.
Fly as thick as driving rain…..
The unforgettable words of R L Stevenson fill my head , as my hair is styled by the wind and my eyes survey the fast moving sights of far away hills, plains brown green and yellow. The fragrance of the earth is abruptly interrupted by the smell of the engines smoke. Rhythmic beats of the metal wheels and rails and long solos by the rail horn. Rexin seats, the comfort of being uncomfortable. This is truly a sensuous experience.
14 hours have passed since the experience started. 16 more to go. The journey from the south of India to the capital is an enriching experience. The sights are sounds of the journey provide the background score for the nostalgic stories of co passengers. “I ran and caught a train once”, “..one of the cleanest stations..”, “…it was the time of emergency..”. Mundane stories fuelled by enthusiasm act a catalysts to conversations. No topic is left untouched. Opinions, analysis, criticisms, facts and even gossip.
Three people from three completely different areas of work, interests amd origin share the journey. One a businessman, frequent on trains, thanks to all the trade fairs. Two , an army man, travelling to report to duty after a break. Three, its I. travelling with a purpose, a purpose of change.
There might be some thoughts which people get when they travel by rail. How did they lay the tracks? How did they plan it? To name a few. One question I got in my mind, for which the answer is not measurable. How much can we learn from co passengers? By learn, I want to stress that this is education not by syllabus but by lived experience. This education has no theorems nor ant formulae, no thesis or anti thesis, no assignments nor exams, but this interaction, teaches. With the small amount of time I have spent with my co passengers I have learnt History, geography, politics, anthropology and even cooking. If I ever become a citizen capable of influencing policy making, or if I ever get the power itself , I would certainly make 30 hour train journeys in Second class a mandatory assignment for college students. They need not write any reports of the journey nor give colourful power point presentations, they just have to make the journey.
The train moves from one state to the other. As I write this previous statement, two things come into my mind. Imagine a train which could move from one state of matter to another? I bet Ms Rowling did not get this idea! The other thought is that our mind is like a train on a long journey. Our mind, working constantly trying to reach reason, trying to reach destinations, chugs along. Our minds move from one state to the other too, more frequently than our travelling counterpart.
Rajdhani Express
For once you wont find the usual 1 to 10 list on my blog, but i will be posting a series of posts which I write after being inspired by our capital New Delhi ( That should explain the Rajdhani part of the title ). I am expressing my thought/experiences/opinions so I found it apt to put an 'express' in the title. So here goes all about 'Dilli'!
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