The Inevitable

The trip to Banaras was long due. I had been dreaming about walking through the narrow lanes for a while now. Secretly, I was also hoping to find a gorgeous Banarasi saree to add to my wardrobe.

One day, while randomly texting each other about life post getting married, both Isha and I proposed that we take a short trip to Banaras. Talk about telepathy!

So there we were, with one small backpack each, boarding the overnight train to the oldest living city in India. The idea was to spend two days walking the city.

While browsing through Things to Do in Banaras lists, Isha categorically refused to go to Manikarnika Ghat, the cremation ghat. I agreed, half heartedly, though I really wanted to see the place that marks the end for upto three hundred people (or should I call them bodies?) everyday.

As luck would have it, Isha ended up being sick for the entire trip and without me wanting it, it became a solo trip of some sort.

As I walked along the Dashashwamedh Ghat, asking directions for Manikarnika Ghat, I stopped and thought if I really wanted to see dead bodies, first thing in Banaras. But that was only for a second, and I walked on.

I was wondering if I'll get to see a cremation (I wasn't aware of numbers at that point). On reaching The Ghat, I was surprised to see 3 pyres burning.

As I looked on, slightly surprised, slightly exhausted by heat, a tea seller told me, "You can sit here and watch." while pointing towards two wooden benches under a makeshift canopy one of which was occupied by three foreigners.

I don't remember how long I sat there, probably ten minutes, probably half an hour, but   in that duration I must have seen at least 10-12 bodies being brought. The moment I realised I had been sitting there for long, I started getting restless, I felt weird. It was one of those times when you start thinking about death, and why should we put so much effort in so many things when one day all we end up as is a burning pyre. I was cursing Isha for being sick and had just started regretting my decision to come alone to such place when I heard a phone ringing.

It was the tea seller's phone. I did not focus on the conversation, but all I remember is that, when he hung up, he announced, "Meri gharwali ko beta hua hai!" My wife gave birth to a boy!

And then, it all made sense, Death is inevitable and so is Birth. Life came full circle, once again. 

Full Circle!

Life comes full circle. All those kids that your parents ask you to follow the example of, Sharma ji's son, Verma ji's daughter or any random person they get to hear about are the people you hate while growing up. But you never realise when your transition to the other side happens. Although I am blessed with parents who did not make me follow other 'smart and intelligent' children, except for the annual disappointment with me when the UPSC results are out and they read about all the 'smart and intelligent' people, especially girls, making through it. It was their dream to see their daughter as an IAS officer (and at one point in life, mine too!).
But this circle is not about education or career or the mundane stuff that everyone gets to deal with. This is about something far more simple but far more liberating.
My parents, who are early risers and regular morning walkers, used to go to the neighbourhood park and come back with "That girl runs 10 rounds of the park" or "That guy does yoga for an hour".
Imagine my plight, I just did not want to do any of it.
Back in my school days, I never ran or played basketball/ volleyball/ handball, not even kabaddi :P. There! i said it! I hated sports or anything remotely related to sports. And I was sure I'll hate it for the rest of my life.
But life changes, so do you. That's the only thing you can be sure of. And it changed me.
I started running in 2014. It was difficult in the beginning to go beyond 100 meters without stopping to catch my breath or cheating with 'i'll walk fast, maybe it will be as good as running!'. But slowly I was getting better and I was liking it, which was a surprise to me.
I've been running on and off since last summer and have been regular for the last one month. I dont know how much distance I cover because kilometers sound scary to me and I dont want to compare it with anyone. I just want to be better than what I was yesterday so my unit of measurement is the number of rounds I run of the nearby park, the same one where the girl used to run 10!!
Honestly, I still haven't reached 10 (my target). I did 9 today.
Coming back to the circle, I saw someone notice me running. An uncle, around 45-50 years. 6th round he saw me, 7th round he smiled. At 8th, he showed me a thumbs up and stopped me to ask how much did I usually run. He seemed impressed with 9! :P He then asked me if I was into professional athletics. Imagine my happiness. A girl who could barely run 100 meters without panting being asked THIS!
And then he went on about importance of being physically active and how he is going to go home and tell his daughter about me!

It was meant to be written about!

Now that I look back, maybe I was meant to write this experience down from the beginning. The signs were all there, just that I did not understand.


Summer of 2014, started with my flight to Delhi from Amsterdam, via Helsinki. To understand the reasons behind taking this flight, lets go back few months. It was the month of March and I had to finally make a decision. What do I want to do for my thesis? I wasn't sure, like always. I consulted Somesh (officially: professor; unofficially: friend, philosopher, guide) about possible research fields. I told him my interest in real, live projects. He mentioned about a project in Colombo. I jumped at the opportunity of being able to do my research in a third country (first and second being India and Netherlands respectively).To cut things short, after many hiccups that involved visa issues and what not, my travelling dates and tickets were finalised.


I was supposed to be in Colombo for 10 days, all by myself. My first ever solo trip!


It is on this trip I realised that travelling alone is the best form of education.


Coming back to the signs, on my flight from Amsterdam to Helsinki, I met and Indian person. He was around 60 years old, I think. We had a 5 hour transit in Helsinki before our flight to Delhi and what better way to use our time than making conversations about why/where/how we are travelling. He was from the field of journalism and was in Netherlands for the recently concluded Hockey World Cup (yes! there is something like that too). I was really impressed when he told me that attending sports events was his passion and he had attended more than 6 Hockey World Cups, 4 Olympics and Commonwealth Games. I never imagined someone with passion like his. Further, he told me he was working on a book on history of Indian hockey. The game which is believed to be the national sport of the country was introduced by the British to keep the lower economic classes occupied. The higher princely classes were involved in cricket and the rich merchants in golf. Though hockey was the poor man's game, India ended up winning almost all international competitions. There was a time when British decided to withdraw from Olympics because they did not want to lose against their colony. Some British players ended up playing from the Indian team. Something I found interesting was, British, Pakistan and Indian players who played for the same team in 1944 were on competing teams in 1948. This, and such other interesting stories were going to be a part of his book. I believe this was the first sign.


At the same airport, I also met the Pakistani lawyer who represented the widely covered Sarabjit Singh case in Pakistani jail. He, too, was working on the release of a book and was travelling to India for it. So, its not even been a day and I had already met two people who were writing books!


I reached my home in India the next morning and left for Colombo via Mumbai the same night, although none of this happened easily. The transition from 16 degrees in Rotterdam to 42 degrees in Delhi was almost killing me. Add to this my cancelled Delhi-Mumbai flight, and the perfect recipe for tempers flying is ready. After explaining the customer care representative my situation 3 times I finally got the flight rescheduled with only one glitch. I now had to wait 3 hours at Mumbai airport. Wow! what a beginning.


Next morning, tired and exhausted, I arrived in Colombo. I had a taxi waiting for me, thankfully. But tada! the driver doesn't know the way. It took us 2 hours to reach the hotel which should normally not take more than 45 minutes.


First half of day 1 was spent sleeping.

Contd...

Happy New Year!

If the first day of the year is any indication of how my coming year is going to be, then I am awaiting a really fun and fulfilling year this time around.
Spending time with family. Check!
Spending time with childhood friends. Check!
Morning jog and exercise. Check!
A wholesome healthy breakfast. Check!
Spending time with kids at the orphanage and bringing them sweets. Check!
Receiving payment for my freelance work. Check!
Going out to explore new places. Check!
Trying out new eating joints. Check!
Its still 18:30, lets see what the rest of the day has in store for me.
Welcome 2015! I've been meaning to see you for a while! :)

Fish with feet!

My dear friend Elisa recited an incident from the time when she attended a talk that was about going back to the home country after living abroad for education. The speaker compared people to 'fish' and according to her theory..
"There are big fish and small fish, fat fish and thin fish in this sea called life. Life, post travelling, changes you. The fish grow feet." That sounds strange! Fish with feet!!
"When we go back to where we come from, we are still the same fish. Except, we now have feet! We can now hop skip and jump. And we will get frustrated when we meet other fish who think differently, and move differently because the feet are missing. And once in a while, we might come across a fish that has feet, one who has traveled, like us and maybe then we will feel better about ourselves because we won't be alone!"

in my mind

"but part of you is screaming don’t you understand how much I have changed? And I don’t mean hair, weight, dress or anything else that has to do with appearance. I mean what’s going on inside of your head. The way your dreams have changed, they way you perceive people differently, the habits you’re happy you lost, the new things that are important to you."

How someone can describe what goes on in my mind is beyond my understanding. I no longer want the same things I wanted before I started this journey. I guess travel does mess up your mind. :)

For source blog read here.

The Lost Shoe

She was getting late and the bus ahead of her bus wasn’t moving a bit. It was hot and she was trying to look out of the large window of the bus as if looking out would mean an inflow of cool breeze. She noticed a family - a man, two women and two kids. No wait, there were three. One was a toddler, in his mother’s arms. The crowd on the sidewalk was chaotic, everyone trying to find a way to reach their destinations as early as possible. The lady with toddler tried to walk past a cycle rickshaw, and in the process brushed against another man walking in the opposite direction. The toddler was probably asleep; his foot got stuck and off came his shoe. She noticed the shoe fall on the ground. She wanted to shout out to the mother and let her know. And as it always happens, just then the bus started to move. She wanted to yell but she stopped. Perhaps she thought she was too sophisticated to be shouting out of the bus window, that too only for a stupid shoe which wasn’t worth more than fifty rupees. And that’s where it ended.

Elsewhere, in a small house in the slum area of the city, a child is crying because he lost his shoe. The mother is worried where she will get money to replace the pair of shoes. And the man is shouting at the mother, for being so careless.

If only.