Just Be.

I walk on the water
towards the horizon.
I seek to melt and become one with you.
I seek to fly alike the flamingos.

Fly alike the flamingos,
wrapped in their pink underneath.
i look the silvery streaks
on the water beneath.

I walk on the water
to see myself with the flamingos.
I bath in the flame of horizon
wrapped under the flamingos.

I seek horizon,
where sky and earth ends to itself,
never to rise,
never to fall,
only to exist...

I fly with the flamingos,
I walk on the water ,
To find this horizon.
where, the skies cease to fall,
the earth ceases to rise,
Are in a ease to be...
Just be.

Digital Delusions

He sits in the chair partly incapacitated due to his age. I can imagine him sitting at his balcony and picturing the birds and the very few people meandering through the roads below as purposeful. He is not sure of his digital camera...but then he just knew that ways of buying and selling were the same and hence he bought it..his veins know the slight pain and clot they have to adhere along to help him take it near to his eyes...He sits in a cold chair heated by the heaters...he sits along the balcony...maybe a little behind and more ahead. I cannot see him and i haven't but i would certainly like to.

After clicking the pictures he places the camera and looks into the shots taken. He has shot many times...he had shot at flying birds like he was doing now and he did not like taking pictures of people...he never shot at people as he had done that many times...
The air gains weight with its numbness and a cold more colder seeps around him. He is used to that...There is not much of a sun shining, just enough to give hope. He might be a bit numb to hope by now.

Yes he is the old man, the left overs of mighty ruins. He is a soldier of his leader alike to the footmen of Ozymandias.
He is someone who walked the long miles in frost and of Frost.
He is someone with a metal plate in his head.

The delusions of WW1 and WW2 are with him now...they had been submerged and dissolved in the ever running moments of time, experience and people. They submerged in the peace after, in the economy after, in the comforts after. But they always came up when there was silence, and silence is eternal...it is the foundation...a necessity for any sound to exist.

Silence identifies Sound.

And now when that silence resurfaces...he is in many delusions as there are noises and images in his head. Only for his head.
And just like wines get better under earth, silence becomes cancerous under head. Imaginations get skewed, many colored glasses gain priority...and when he finds a head without a metal plate, a head with out inorganic screws, a head without delusions, he pukes...
He pukes it to the very earth that gave him, to the very nation that grew him up amongst the snow, shine and beer.
His eyes become clear. He takes his camera and he shoots at the birds again and he is not unhappy.
He sees the bird once more as it still stands and hasn't been fell...the wrinkles adjust enough for a smile on his face
He looks at his camera...he does not have to load the trigger...it was automatic...
Maybe he fears of the coming years...but he is imprisoned and more safe than any birds in his own delusions...
And when he has more of them...he just pukes

He pukes in Bavaria, Germany

Some Pictures of the trip described below

With no intention to arrive

March 24
6:30 am

Alarm rings, and with contempt I snooze it off …only to be woken up by Gaurav, my room mate (who henceforth shall be G). We together work 24 hours a day…him during the nights and I during the day (hmm mid-mornings maybe)…An Impulsive thought: This will not be just another day…after having been an agony uncle and ‘in agony’ for sometime I decided to tear up my daily routine or any routine I had for the ensuing weekend. Yup, a trip, to run away from the honking and bonking cars, chattering keyboards and my mouse which clicks alike dripping water… With these thoughts blipping in the first few seconds after my sleep and forty winks, my day began at 10:30 am.

The Plan, The Strategy, Ya-da, Ya-da…

For the next 90 minutes G and I went around as recruiting troopers in our living quarters but to no avail…they simply were not infected by our enthusiasm. In the end we met one Mr. I-tell-you-where-you-can-go who told us about places surrounding Bangalore namely the Coorg district, Chickmagalore district and of course: Mysore, its surrounding areas.

A skim and glance look-up on the internet told us that Chickmagalore would be a more viable option and we narrowed down on the places in that district. Chickmagalur is a supposedly called a calm and serene town…the latter adjective, ahem I am skeptical about it. Chickmagalur district is a coffee plantation site in the State of Karnataka, India. It is located at 1900 meters (approx) above the sea level and the district encompasses some of the beautiful temples built at the time of the Hoysala Dynasty that ruled South India in 16th C.

The places we chalked in our ‘Desire’ map were Kudremukh (an iron ore deposit), Bhadra Wild-life sanctuary, Kemmengundi (hill town), Sringeri (pilgrimage). The only information in possession: Chickmagalur is 247 kms from Bangalore (Capital, State of Karnataka…the Silicon Valley, Pub City and Traffic Ravine of India).

3:45 pm approx

After having a terrible Chinese lunch, G and I took the auto to the noisy Majestic Bus Depot and had a phantom thought that empty places would haunt us instead of buses (to Chickmagalur).




Yes! There are buses every one hour to Chickmagalur from Bangalore!

With an optimized budget in our hands we got into our seats. My broken Kannada saw us the way through in getting the required tickets and also know from a passenger nearby that it would take us 6 hours to reach there! Well since there was not much to see in the town of Chickmagalore, we had to go some place elsewhere. And now that it would be night by the time we reach we decided to stay put at Chickmagalur.

On the way the ‘Desire’ map was under continuous editions. We cut its corners and flapped its ears and it pretty much had a circular shape when we were done discussing.

We arrived at Chickmagalur at 10:50 pm and settled in a lodging facility which was already occupied by a mosquito army and we became its Fish ‘N’ Chip…L

March 25
6:30 am

Chickmagalur is a small town…with filth and petty shops selling all the things one might not need. At the time we ventured out none of the shops had opened apart from a few tea and biscuit vendors…on enquiring we came to know that shops opened by 9 am.

After my sleepless night and a contradicting one for G (looks like he is insensitive to mosquitoes) we hurried to the bus stand and decided to go to Kemmengundi a hill station situated 55 kms from Chickmagalur town…

The lazy town had its effect on us as we slowly sauntered to find a bus…here again the seats, ceilings and windows were reserved by the mosquitoes. On enquiring the locals, taxiwallas and the-guy-sitting-drinking-tea-smoking-beedi one comes to know that one has to catch two buses to reach kemmengundi. The route: Chickmagalur-Lingadahalli-Kemmengundi.


KemmenGundi

We boarded the bus at 8:15 am and after 15 minutes the place around us started changing and I started having a deja-vu but nevertheless refreshing…the petty shops started retreating back, driven by the shrubs that were growing bigger as we moved on…the wheels trembled as they grained on the remaining asphalt. After the mini-infantry of the shrubs, giant banyans and eucalyptus tree advanced alike the cavalry to remove traces of any commercial leftovers strewn on the ground…

Humans do live but they have to co-exist here.

Smoke from a boiling pot of hot water seemed the only trace of inhabitance around and Lingadahalli was no where in sight and we cared less.

At 9 pm after 45 minutes of a shot-in-the-arm bliss we arrived in Lingadahalli and so did the cows, shops, a small bus stand and its people trying to conquer the whole place by their mere presence.

We received a merry welcome feasted on fresh fruits, stocked our water bottles…adhering to the Indian Stretchable Time (IST)…the bus to kemmengundi scheduled at 9:15 am arrived at around 10:30 am…It was the only bus for the mornings.

G’s Spirits soared higher with the bus, and he was photographing every other cow and tree on the way. I dozed due to drowsiness of last night. We crossed villages like krishnarajapura, Ballavara on the way…

Not to mention, the nature can turn you green with envy, and we were kind of intoxicated and all we could do is hear to moans of the bus and nature belittling us with its silence, the weather was cold and everybody was silent and people called in and called out of the bus at various intervals and we never knew/bothered to ask when we would alight.

And when the time did come we were caught unawares. The bus stopped near a gate…this gate was the entrance to kemmengundi…now whoever could expect a gate for a town! Paying the entry fee of Rs.5 each…we walked through the entrance…

The roads and quality of the same improved and there was a horticulture nursery and trees attired us for the skies…

After we were done with taking-room-settle-down syndrome…we went to the near by map board and realised that kemmengundi is surrounded by hills…further one can go to forests in Muthodi for which one has to hire private transport from here. The hill station had only one phone to talk within the country…our mobile phones failed to pick-up and retain any continuous networks…we bothered about it and then turned numb as we started our hike towards the gardens in a terrace cultivation style.

We further hiked and found ourselves at around 5000 feet, our enthusiasm made it up for the thinning of air out there.

Two main places to look forward at kemmengundi would be

The Shanthi falls
The ‘Z’ Point

A hiking of around 12 kms will lead you to Shanthi falls followed by another 3 kms to ‘Z’ point. We reached atop of the hill and were happy, exhausted.

This place is smaller than a town or even a village when compared to inhabitance rate…there are no ‘people’ living here. There are horticulture nurseries, officials, caretakers, one telephone exchange, around 6 lodges (2 rooms each), one mini bus parking place, one small hospital, a broken watch tower and around 70 (caretakers, officials inclusive) living on a continuous basis. A preserved piece of land…

Sunday, Bloody Sunday…

After a deep sleep under the cold breeze and blankets we woke up like on any Sunday and rushed with the morning chores to catch the bus back to Lingadahalli. We were to go to Billibajangara Hills, Belur, and halebid before returning back to Bangalore. Huge distances were to be covered and a lot to see and do. But the day had something else in store for us.

There is only one bus from KemmenGundi to Lingadahalli in the mornings and people depend on it heavily. Owing to our strict budget we included ourselves under the mercy of public transport. A ledge gave away, or so the bearing in the wheel and the only bus, the hope to wheel away to the nearest place Lingadahalli was 25 kms away, had broken down on the way.

We looked at each other and muttered under our breath, ‘It happens’ and went for a stroll outside the gate of kemmengundi…and then realised that Lingadahalli was 25 kms…the disguised chance showed up as the sun struck mist and the clocks struck noon. We decided to take a walk along the jungle.

A few errors here: we did not get enough water as we thought it would be just 30 minutes of a journey in the bus and in all the excitement of a mini trek we forgot to go back and buy new ones. Sun started to beat upon us and we started sweating in our backs. G was more excited to sight any wild animal by chance but I washed his dreams by reminding him that they come out only in the wee hours of mornings…but nevertheless we walked with feet on ground and our heads brimmed with wonderland images…and of course with an Empty bottle + A black bag.


I was a bit tired and numb with no more plans popping. The ‘mind and desire map’ shriveled with time and so did our strength…8 kms non-stop walk on treacherous slanting roads…and 17 more to go with no water/shop in sight…

In a way it is said reality digresses itself to suck upon myths, legends and stories and make them loose their identity. Here it’s true…As we hiked, on the way we chanced upon a petty stream from a narrow water fall behind a bridge stone. We took our bags and sat there… filled the bottle in the stream…yeah this was mineral water too…

Trekking on further we come to know there is yet another waterfall, a tourist place…yep that meant food and more water…but we weren’t sure of how many more kilometers…The name I guess was Kallatigiri.

Farishta….

Screech…dreeuuulllllll….a car stops by…whisks us by saying they are giving us a lift till the road that would lead to the waterfall and speeds. G’s thoughts play all the Hindi movies and kidnapping sequences, and I plot ways to escape…Scrreeech again, they say 2 kms to the right and you have the water fall. “Good Humans”, muttered G with myself nodding my head. 4 kms done!

We walk up another 2 kilometers to reach the fall, and it’s a fall with a temple of VeeraBadhreshwara below…the water that falls on the steps of the temple has many ingredients namely: water, fishes, plastic covers, pan and gutkha packets, rice, soap, detergents, shampoo, left over pieces of cloth and of course people still adding to the mélange…yeah it’s holy…so G baths in them, I wet my feet along the streams contributing our bit.

Time: 3:00 clock

13 kms to go…

Oh there were a lot of trees, only if I knew their real names and listen to the stories they bear.

A guy in a blue shirt starts to follow us and asks if we are trekking around, I nod my head…he speaks on in Kannnada…G looks to me for translation…

We find out that he had a squabble with his friends only to end up being left in the way… time passes by and we walk…

We reach the village Ballavara by 4:30 pm and still we have 8 kms to go…Blue Boy goes home… exit!

We reach leveled roads and hike on to rest after a non-stop 7 km stretch …Land and places turn arid around and sun starts to set…wasted lands and ravines emerge out of the greenery we left by…we cannot say where the mud wins over its conquerors.

We are tired…we talk about real estate and prices only to fall in silence again…we see yet another 5 miles to go…we sit down and are intoxicated by weariness. Every step gets counted…we walk on…


Farishta arrives again in the form of a tractor…and we get on to it…and we hand them some cigarettes and they are more than happy to drop us at Lingadahalli…all’s well…we arrive and yet life and moments have their twists…we are even to witness an ‘end’ here…

Temperate

Happiness, exhaustion and ruins of our enthusiasm is what we have now…we snack at a desi tea shop nearby and G wants the bus to come…its 6:30 pm and the bus to Chickmagalur is slated to be here (at Lingadahalli) at 7:30 pm…an hour amongst mosquitoes, commotion of the village market and silence beyond that…

I sit and wait and G walks around trying to contact people through the few phone booths around…We walk again to have another tea…asking every person around if there is a bus at all to Chickmagalur…they give affirmative noises and nods.

Sudden commotion brews up in the mini bus stand and all the people gather around…striking match lights at the place where we previously sat 10 minutes ago…G walks up to see if the excitation is caused by some thing or the other that fell out of our bags…(we are tired, disillusioned!!)…

We come to know a patient who had arrived from a nearby village to see the doctor had died in waiting…there is silence…and whole market is filled with hush and the dusk dawns meanwhile…I shift my legs uncomfortable and bus arrives…we sit inside and the seats are filled with few murky strains…the very trees that enlivened me lurk as shadows along the sides...

The run back to Chickmagalur ensues and we are there by 9:30 pm for dinner…we buy our tickets to Bangalore…smiles vanish and exhaustion overcame us…the ride turns rugged…foots swell…and we grin and wince at the same time…but I know there is a peace beneath us…what is it? It’s a smile…a smile beneath the wrinkles of exhaustion…a smile blend with the above experiences however small they might be.