A Recent Ramble

("Bacchus", Michelangelo)


So, he's high
And he has a story
He hopes you buy
- About him, and well, nothing else
He's too afraid might others see

The doors of perception never worked
Coz someone knocked puked leaked entered
So anyway, we wont forget
Showcasing his own solidities of no tone

Its the evening
(ironies ringing)
And I have seen him all already.
I saw him dirty, crouching, on the bed
Saw him see his wounds as they bled
Saw his feet tremble and hurt turn red
Saw him strip - naked, bleeding, red
Saw the water bend over his head

And he doesn't seek anyhing you think he does
No poetic licence, no poetic nonsense
No pretentious laughter
Fuck off, pretentious bastards.

He just wants his own salvation, not yours
His own Ecstacy
A smile
A throbbing heart
- that's all

Water
Cold,cold water
Black wet hair over his head
Black wet hair (everywhere else)
I see him clean, I see him pure
I see the water touch him
And with it bring
One-ness, Numbness, Nun-ness
Love.

Shangri La is where he rests
Sleepy, tired, seeking, anxious
I went to him and I did pull
The pillow that rested beneath his head
And made holes in it and blew the feathers out
To be never found, ever again
So, stuck he is, and he cant fly
I blew the wings, ask me why.

Flat naked dirty thin
Wet fresh cleansing new
Combs his hair
Sees people stare
(doesn't care)
And readies his face to be himself

Masks are off
- marooned, lost in a sea of booze.
The mind if free
And your self is given back to you.

Reunion, reinvention, rediscovery, clothes.
Masks, dance, jazz, floss
Music, money, empty laughs
You, me, pretentious bastards.

And now he drinks -
Beer, I think
To be himself.
To live. To breathe. To sleep.
To be happy. To die.
To live on and laugh like us.

And now, I see his loneliness ripen
- into the Fruit of Knowledge.

Thursday

I have had my dream--like others--
and it has come to nothing, so that
I remain now carelessly
with feet planted on the ground
and look up at the sky--
feeling my clothes about me,
the weight of my body in my shoes,
the rim of my hat, air passing in and out
at my nose--and decide to dream no more.

William Carlos Williams

What immortal hand or eye, could framy thy fearful symmetry ?

"Oh boy! I love you so much."

When I am formulated . . .

I love how children make everything seem so simple. 2 + 2 equals 4. Life, as a kid, is lived with certain structured, unquestionable axioms like that which help make sense out of each single day. Wish I could get all simple, heirchial, structured, unquestioning again :P.

Here's an interesting take on death (something we haven't found structured formulated explanation to), from the magical, simple perspective of children. life + death = nature. Well, perhaps.



Dont you just love Calvin ?! (even after all he does to susie!). Will write soon about the fantastic wonderland of Bill Waterson.

In Pursuit.

So, I got my CAT preparatory material today. Lots of books. I love the fragrance of New Books. Felt like a schoolboy, excited and upbeat, as one always is, about starting my preperation soon. Somehow, somewhere in between things always get messed up. But I hope I get here. Well, well.

Read an article about back-packing. Filled my sails with a new found air. This is it. This is how I want to spend the rest of my life. At times, I just want to go ahead, lose it. Get bald. Not marry, not have children, spend my life making friends, clicking pictures, globe-trotting with Eliot's Prufrock and Other Observations in hand, and an i-Pod full of all my favorite music, earning just enough to afford my grand odesseys. Earning just enough to afford my grand odesseys. Here comes the cut !

Turns out I have idema, caused by exertion and the doc's advised rest for a week. A bit frustrating, but then I find time to blog. So, what the heck!

Soul Searching, Huh ?

I have been here before.
I have done this before.

But that was then. Different fake-name. Different (fake) game.
No more am I all that I was. No more will I be all that I am.

So, here we are. To record what will never be new again. To be naked and unpretentious. To flaunt my soul. To, someday I hope, truly find it.

With all my (fake and actual) weight, I attempt to pronounce myself to your world. Hello.

Himalayan Diaries

Photo : S. Bathe
1) 18th may 2005, 6:08 PM.

A pink tent. A billboard proclaiming 'YHAI WELCOMES YOU!". The crisp sound of the river Parvati meandering its way through the rocks. Laughter and ghazals inside the tent. It's 18:08 at Kasol base camp. Day two of our rendezvous with the Himalayas, and who knows, so much more. I've finally managed making it to here, after thinking about doing so for five continuous summers. The Sar Pass trekking expedition (yeah right, I'm trying to make it sound grand). We're another 13,900 feet away from finding ourselves. In the midst of it, some great friends, some rough terrains, some snowball fights, some warm camp-fires and a whole lot of fun.

Punjab Mail some 5 days ago with Dad waving for as long as he would seems like so far away. So do our confrontations with some sindhis on the train who insisted on playing dumb-charades at the top of their voices (imagine how that woks out) and our lasting impressions of the animate countryside (or so it seemed from the train window). I'm so truly in the hereness and the nowness of the moment – the impact is astounding. In the cozy confines of my tent, with my sleeping bag and my ruck sack all over me, I am.

We start tomorrow at 8:15 in the morning for Datseri. It's our day tomorrow. We'll be clapped for, and hand-shaked while we start off, just like we've clapped for and hand-shaked and back patted our previous groups. The feeling might be a bit scary, but we're all too drowned in anticipation to worry about it. It's rained 3 days on the trot, but we're trying to be optimistic. Hope its calm tomorrow. Providence Divine. The first two days were so much fun. So was our journey, though I lost my Nikon camera there (wasn't my fault! I've become so used to saying it and I'm so not looking forward to a time when even I'm going to stop buying it). On the bus itself we made friends with this group of mumbaikars. We stayed in the same hotel at Kullu, and boarded the same bus. They're all twice our ages, but we still gel well with them. And I don't see why we cant be great companions. In fact we already are beginning to be. We're in the same camp, for starters. All of us. Kullu was where we got our first impressions of what awaited us, where we had nice hot water baths, which we'll be deprived of for days to come now. It was at Kullu that we got on the bus (a rooftop ride!) that took us where we are.

It's quite surprising how the world's second highest village (also our base camp) is so well connected – telephone lines and internet cafes and even electricity (d-uh!). Israelis all around, doping away to Lord Shiva. It's like Pattaya for prostitutes, down here for drugs, or at least that's what it might become pretty soon. If there ever was a time to stop this, it's now. It might hit the Himachal economy big time, but I still think it's worth it. Anyway, that's not bothering me. Not for now, at least.

We had our acclimatization walk yesterday. The day started with the much talked about 'bed-tea' and an exercise-session where we met this another Mumbai group we made friends with – who were, like us, deprived of company. Saumya (Mufasa!), Yukti (She Who Never Flinched From Correcting My Grammer ) and Sneha (… er… umm… well….). And we're not forgetting Arjun here (daba ke khao!). I think it's a good start – the right group, the right mood and the right cant-find-the-right-wordishness. Perfect ingredients that would make up vivid memories that we'll someday look back and laugh about.

I did "If" at the camp. I thought it'll be a good idea as it truly epitomizes the spirit of a kind of endurance and being infallible – all of which is what trekking is all about. Where there is life, there is hope. Lots of both here. Reassuring.

I'll also put in something about the mountains here. A sudden clash between two huge land masses hardly seems the right explanation that might have caused these mountains –mighty, mysterious, mystical. It must've been so much more. There's something about the Himalayas that's not there among other ranges. Maybe I'll find out someday. It's only when you come here, that you discover how small you really are. Ughgh, that's the whistle. Dinner, I think. Gotta go. (I did go. Too late. Ended up having chapatis that were more like chewing gum.)

2)
20th May, 2005. 7:16 A.M

You couldn't possible find a better spot to write. I'm sitting on a log of wood that once upon a time stood tall as a tree; before it was burned down to accommodate my hips. Very little light inside my tent, so had to get here. Don't regret it. Looking around, I know of snow covered mountains that stand all around, birds chattering away to morning glory, trails leading to places knowable unknown. I'm at Datseri. We climbed 4 kilo-meters from the base camp to get here. Yesterday's trek was as best as you could ask for. Optimism truly pays. The sky was clear and a warm sunshine (yes, dual meanings, Saumya) played around the trails. A happy thing, considering the fact that it's been raining three days on the trot before this. Today doesn't look as good. Clouds all around, threatening bad weather. It's been the highest snowfall in 20 years, around this place this year, and we don't want it to rain.. (rain here means snow up there). Next thing we know might be a blizzard coming our way.

I was feeling terrible from yesterday evening. Slight fever and cold , but more than that, I felt like I was just forced 50 tequila shots, like I was high or something. When I woke up, Arjun helped me with some acupressure, by stomping on my feet with all his might until I was able to gasp out for help! That put things in shape, my fever could not be more painful than at least what he did to me! But surprisingly, I'm feeling so much better. Psychologically, at least. Oh and I had a crocine. It might've been the altitude, or the lack of oxygen (?), that did me in. Anyway, now that it's over. I just hope it doesn't rain today. I don't mind being cold, but I'm so not looking forward to being wet.

We had a camp-fire last night (Karan anchored!). I wish I had done something, but I was in no shape. I was just sitting there, eyes closed, numb, with a vague feeling that there were people around singing and clapping and reciting Bachhan poetries and singing ghazals.

We leave for Tindarban at 10 today. It's 5 kilo-meters up-hill. Shouldn't be that tough, thankfully. I hope to report by 4 and catch up on some sleep. I need a lot of rest, considering my current state of unwellness (or whatever the right word is) and the fact that we hit snow tomorrow (We – hit – snow – tomorrow!!!). Worse, when we're there, we'll have to be very careful. Worse, my digestive system is beginning to trouble me. I've been trying to get my food intake out , unsuccessfully so. Doing it out in the open does not help my cause a great deal (I had an accident which I will not elucidate here).

In spite of all these odds, I have to do what I have come here for. To get back in touch with myself. To continue noticing how bright the stars really are and remember that fact when I go back to Mumbai, where the sky and the stars are drowned among the street lights. To admire the terrain and know new people. To make friends. To be able to see things with new perspectives. To overcome odds. To prove myself.

Wow. Apollo smiles. The sun's suddenly out, and everything's bright - As if giving its approval to all that I just mentioned. It's the breakfast. I need to get my plate out.

3)

21st May, 2005.

I dig my toes into the sand
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds
Strewn across the world bridge
I lay my head against the wind
Pretending I am weightless
The sky resembles a backlit canopy
With holes punched in it
And in this moment I am happy…. Haa-ppy.

- Wish you were here, Incubus.



That's what I'm so like right now. Yeah – we'll replace the sand with snow, the ocean with the mountains, and the wind with my sleeping bag. Happy… Haa-ppy. I'm at Khadiaru Thatch, 10,200 feet. 7 kilometers climb from tindarban, which was 8500 feet, where we played cricket, where I told everyone about my first (and so far, only) confrontation with alcohol. But above al, most importantly, where I finally, after a week of being the constipated soul that I was, kicked the shit outta my system (literally so!). Shitting in the open, at a time when everyone else is busy playing cricket, is an experience of bliss. There was no one around, and it was the only moment in the entire trek when I felt, for the first time, that I, sitting behind that rock, was a part of the flora and fauna, rather than being a mere witness to it. Well, shit happens. Thankfully so.

If yesterday's trail was breathtaking (I'm feeling like saying so much more. It's almost cruel of me to trap all of that into just another 12 letter word, which is used often, even by people who've never been here).You could just stay there, near the stream, staring at the mountains, your mouth wide open, with a small sense lingering in the back of your mind that says there's an another world out there, which is inhabited by people, who know so little of the existence of this world. Unbelievable, right ?

4)

23rd May, 2005.


I'm angry with myself for not managing to put something in since two days now – Nagaru and Khadiaru Thatch. I'm at Biskeri, significantly lower. We crossed 14000 feet today – the highest we've had in the trek. But before I start with today, I'll try and continue from where I left. Last time, I was talking about sitting by the stream open-mouthed. I clicked some photographs there. Hope they come out right.

The trek till Khadiaru Thatch was tough. There was this time when some were sulking, and the others sulking at me (or what I imagined them doing). So I moved out, making way to walk alone (the inconsistently solitude loving soul that I am.) After appreciating this rather stunning view that I walked into, capturing it in my mind, absorbing its beauty, I wandered on. And I reached this hill-top which had been blocking my view of the trails ahead, that were to be tread on by us. Once on it, it finally rewarded me with the spectacle that I was for so long denied. There were, however, too many different trails out there to choose from. Anyway. At the top, as it was, the chilling, strong wind blew against me as I clung on to my stick, gasping, looking at the trails. One generally wears tee-shirts (unless it's Rahul Partoti, who'll wear anything you give him, even if there's a blizzard outside) while walking during the day-time - when the suns out, when your body temperature is warm. Even in the Himalayas. So was I. But I was at a peak of sorts now, unsheltered, the wind howling at me. So I caught up a tree and sat, or rather leaned against it with my ruck-sack cushioning me, so that the tree might be able to shelter, at least my back and head from the wind. The rest of my body – hands, knees, and others silhouetted, or rather, quite literally, chilled out. I looked out – at the clouds, the mountains, the trees, the sky, the snow, the sun. My legs sprawled over to the full length of the ground space. Though I had my head, my back, and a fair part of my legs blocked from the wind by the tree I leaned, of all the things, against; the rest of my body gave me a fair idea of how cold it was. I could see the strands of on my hand, rise in ovation for the mighty wind. I was freezing. I let myself freeze - at least for the time being. I think how I lay there, explains best what I am. My unending need for a support system – the tree I leaned onto. My desire to do different things – my wandering apart. Unsuccessfully so – I was freezing here. My laziness – Making the entire effort of take out woolens out of my ruck-sack was too complicated and cumbersome. Freezing was so much simpler! My looking out to the snow and the sky and the path ahead, in spite of the modest, mediocre hill-top I'm on. People ahead, people behind, me always somehow ending up where no one else does. On a peak, but a very small one, out to conquer bigger ones. The uncertain, confusing trail ahead – something like my fate as I see it right now. The wind – all the things against me and my stranding submission to them, not without, however, making sure I show them my back. Not moving behind, yet, not quite getting where I want to be. A trekking expedition is so much like life, isn't it?

But then again, other people came atop my little hill-top, where we had our lunch before we decided to push off. The wind still blew as much, but we moved to new patches. My little fantasy, however, stayed there.

We reached Khadiaru thatch, en route which, came our first bout with snow. The route was tough and we stuck together. There was this old lady, who I assisted during the tougher parts of the terrains. It's amazing. People who overcome obstacles, overcome themselves and succeed. It's like winning.