#he probably meant that it took place in Rajasthan

[troutlawyer]

My brother, watching Paheli with me, stoned off his gourd: Hey, did you know this movie takes place in a part of India?

Me, also stoned off my gourd:

My brother:

Me:

My brother:

Me: …Obviously???

#he probably meant that it took place in Rajasthan #we’re both white as hell btw #bollywood #hindi movies #paheli

[mouli-paul]

Kuldhara - 2020

Safari Jeep thrashed on the golden sand and made deep trails as it zoomed ahead from one part of the desert to the other. It didn’t feel at all like a joyride. I could hear Amey (my husband) talking to the driver amid all the thundering, “Bhaiyya, maza aa gaya”. And I looked at him in disbelief with whatever energy was left within me. At any moment we could have landed brutally on the sands and survived a fracture! The ride almost felt as if we were two marbles rattling vigorously inside a glass bottle. I mean how could he? My back was almost breaking and for hours I didn’t feel like myself post the unnecessary morning event. 

It was exactly a month before all this COVID hullabaloo robbed off all our happiness. We were happily staying overnight in a tent, taking an early morning camel ride and also this never-ever-again-in-this-life-I-am-going-to-take jeep safari. 

February 2020. Sam Sand Dunes. Jaisalmer. 

The desert was not of course our first destination. We started 5 days ago from Udaipur. Stayed two days there. Proceeded towards Jodhpur and stayed there two days as well. Rajasthan was the destination we had been long planning to take up. I cannot claim if we had done justice to the place as the 8 day trip was quite hectic for us considering that it was wholly covered riding a bike except the journey from Bangalore to Rajasthan, for which we had taken a flight. Distances between each city was close to 400 kms which took us almost 6-7 hours to commute. Most of the days we got up as early as 5 at dawn and that too it was February. Morning light didn’t appear anytime before 7 and our hands froze while travelling. Clearly, nothing was too comfortable but somehow all kinds of frustration used to simply vanish when we reached from one city to another. Rajasthan is for one word - Majestic!

Now going back to the unpleasant jeep safari, it was 9:30 in the morning when we were finally done with that tormenting episode. I also happened to misplace my phone in that short time. Approximately, twenty minutes of hither and thither went on to find it and we finally located the phone under the driver’s seat. Must have fallen from my hand during the jeep dance! I thoroughly felt that jeep safari shouldn’t even be any kind of sport, especially in the desert. First of all, it’s disrupting the desert’s natural formation. Second, it’s downright dangerous. Third, it’s a huge waste of money! Post a filling breakfast which consisted of poori, dal, some curry and a sweet (sorry, I don’t remember that vividly) we started our ride from the desert towards Jaisalmer city. The roads were quite empty except for the regular trucks and few vehicles. Our bike swooshed past barren tracts of land in the sideways. Occasionally we could spot a camel or two crossing the road or thoughtfully chewing on the desert shrubs. Satyajit Ray was quite right when he had said in ‘Sonar Kella’ that, “Here in Jaisalmer, camels roam around the streets just like cows and goats do in other cities.” After fifteen minutes from the time we started, Amey told me quite casually, “Kuldhara dekhna hain tumko?” (“Do you want to visit Kuldhara?”) to which I casually replied, “Haan, jaa sakte hain.” (“Yes, we can go.”). Distance from the sand dunes to Kuldhara is approximately 35 kms but due to no traffic and good roads, it took just half an hour for us to reach the place. 

Kuldhara is still considered as an off-beat destination and has been under the care of the Archaeological Survey of India. So, for the ones who are not aware of this place, here’s a bit of background story. Kuldhara or the haunted village as it is called was abandoned overnight by the villagers in the early 19th century. The reasons as to why it’s called haunted or why it had been abandoned are still confusing. I exactly do not remember from where I had heard about Kuldhara but it was a few years back when I came to know of this place. Back then it was just another random haunted village in India for me. It didn’t spark any kind of specific interest that could make me plan on visiting this place during this trip. Visit to Kuldhara was completely unplanned. The original inhabitants of the village were Paliwal Brahmins who had migrated from Pali to Jaisalmer region. Back then before Kuldhara was abandoned, the village was quite prosperous with a total of 84 sub-villages forming the total community. Also, the Paliwals were known to have an excellent understanding of agricultural activities which led them to successfully grow crops in the harsh conditions of the Thar region. They used to basically identify areas in the surrounding regions that stored gypsum rock. It’s a soft mineral made up of 20 percent water, beneath the surface. And, that’s quite true as we saw that for ourselves. While going towards Kuldhara there were large acres of land growing mustard and some other crops. There was mustard for sure as the whole square looked like a beautiful yellow carpet. 

Now, it has been a matter of surprise to many historians as to why and how a populous village like Kuldhara managed to simply vanish overnight? There are few articles online which have come up in the last few years writing the various theories on the reason behind the sudden disappearance. Mostly the stories have been collected from the few people who are in charge of looking after the site now. One theory and the most famous one is that of the Diwan of Jaisalmer, Salim Singh. It was about 200 years ago - an era of powerful kings and rulers and Salim Singh was of course no less sinister. He was quite well-known for his corruption and unethical tax-collecting methods. The actual tale began when this heartless ruler set his heart along with his eyes on the beautiful daughter of the village chief. He was determined to have the girl for his own. Any villager who would come in his way would be imposed with heavy taxes. Even though Salim Singh’s wrath petrified the locals, they were still loyal to their chief. Therefore, out of respect, the whole community fled the village overnight and well before the 24 hour deadline given by Salim Singh. It was the year 1825 when this incident happened and while doing this they had to leave behind everything they had worked for six centuries. Also, before leaving the entire village was placed under a curse. Not a single human could ever inhabit or enter this piece of land and whoever tried to do so would meet with death. Quite a story but it was the one believable of the many theories put forward. 

The whole village is completely in ruins now. Some portions of the villages have been restored by the Archaeological Survey of India. Taking a look at them you can get a general idea of the everyday life of a Paliwal Brahmin - the proximity of their huts, narrow lanes, small communities etc. There are also other theories such as the gradually diminishing water supply and also an earthquake which urged people to evacuate overnight. Kuldhara is also called a haunted village as I mentioned in the previous paragraphs but till now no correct evidence has been found to back that. But yes, the site is open to tourists only till 5 or 6 pm and even the caretaker doesn’t stay there at night. There are various research studies which are still taking place to unearth the exact mystery behind Kuldhara. Tawarikh-i-Jaisalmer, a book by Lakshmi Chand puts light on the demographic details of the region. If I ever succeed in buying and reading the book, I might be able to write a better piece on this region. 

When we took a right turn from the main highway towards Kuldhara, I must say I was a bit terrified. What if we encounter something? I was in half a mind to return but even the thought of it sounded silly in my head. Hence I kept mum and we went ahead. It took us some ten minutes to reach the place. For the first seven minutes we couldn’t find anything which would show that there were ruins of an abandoned village somewhere. Just barren lands with bits of mustard and other plantations. We had already taken a return when two locals who were riding behind us enquired. “Kuldhara jana hain aapko?” We nodded with “Haan”. “Aaage jaaiye, saamne hi hain.” It was a bit surprising as there was nothing in front. Still we went ahead and then I noticed a signboard with ‘Kuldhara’ written on it. Confirmed but still full of doubts we went ahead. After exactly five minutes we saw a huge gate on the left, a caretaker and quite a lot of tourists. There! I kind of heaved a sigh of relief. First of all, the place didn’t give me any kind of eerie feeling but it may be because we were there in broad daylight and in the presence of many other tourists. There were school children who had obviously come there for an educational trip, families who just dropped by like us and other people. 

So, it was true. The village was nothing but all ruins and hence nothing was visible from afar. Yes, there were few houses which had been restored basically to give  a glimpse of the local life there. But for the most part, it looked as if there really had been an earthquake. Just layers of demolished golden brick structures which did depict that the houses were not exactly mud huts but proper one storey constructions. The lanes between the villages were narrow. As we walked further, we came across a vast space surrounded by a few houses (probably the ones restored). Bunch of ladies were busy taking selfies standing in various corners of that space. We went inside one particular hut, the one which was in front to see what’s inside. It was very much like an usual village hut with a window, small courtyard, separate rooms and a flight of stairs that took you to the terrace. The place was visibly crowded which meant that Kuldhara is slowly on it’s way to becoming a popular tourist destination. There’s also a temple, quite a famous one which we didn’t go to. Oh! And I forgot to mention. They charge you a minimum of INR 20 at the gate. That’s the entry fee. 

While Amey was busy taking photographs, I ventured out a bit, went up on the terrace to take a look. It was quite a view from top. View of what a vast area of ruins could look like. Just a few months before I had been to Hampi which is again a city of ruins, but Kuldhara was a bit different. Hampi is of course beautiful, no doubt about that. But the ruins of Kuldhara were more dense, more impactful. The dilapidated houses were still clustered together. A mud inscription of a deer was etched on one particular wall. Hard to say whether it was done then or later by the restoration group. Also, it was a really beautiful, clear and sunny day. The sunrays were creating beautiful shadows in some of the places. I made some quick photographs along with a few video clips and but guess, I couldn’t do much justice to the place. A couple of hours more would have been good but we had to reach the city and roam there as well. It was post 12 when we finally departed from Kuldhara and started for Jaisalmer. 

I cannot give any specific ending to this write-up for Kuldhara as it is more of a documentation of the place. In the last two years, it has gained more popularity with tourists. But Kuldhara is a lot more than what I have written here. Also, while going to Bikaner from Jaisalmer the following day, we had stopped by a roadside shop to have lassi. The owner got quite curious looking at us and engaged us into a conversation. Most of it was from where we came, how long we have been travelling, what is our next destination. As the conversation was nearing an end he asked all of a sudden, 

“Aaplog Kuldhara gaye the? Hum wohin ke hain. Paliwal Brahmins.” That kind of surprised me.

I told him in return, “Haa, gaye toh the. Achha laga. Lekin aaplog abhi rehte kahaan pe ho?” 

“Hum toh yahin rehte hain. Jaisalmer mein. Hamare purvaj bahot pehle wahaan se nikal chuke the. Abhi toh kuch raha nahi wahaan pe.”

The fact is that even they are not aware of their own history, the actual story as to why a whole village had disappeared overnight. He didn’t press much on the matter and also didn’t launch with any further stories. Post a hurried goodbye we resumed our journey towards Bikaner, our next destination. 

#travel #travelphotoshoot #travel photo diary #travel photo blog #rajasthan #rajasthan tourist places #jaisalmer #desert #india #travelindia

[joyfullyimportantyouth-blog]

What I’ve Found From Riding Trains, by Isabelle Hoonan

Even if countries were connected across oceans by trains, I still wouldn’t take them every day. Even if the gilded splendors of a Moscow mosque or the thin air of Everest were readily available, I would take caution to parcel out this privilege. Perhaps I would hop on once a month to preserve the delicacy of anonymity. Riding a train to a foreign locale is an act of accepting calm before unsettlement. It is an intentional act of leaving, followed by a chaotic thrush of discovery with each new thing you encounter: it is a gift to not waste. Should the opportunity arise to disappear on a train for a while, towards something you do not know, it should still be reserved in rarity so it doesn’t lose its meanings.

Imagine closing your eyes in the shady enclave of the Redwoods and waking up to the smell of creamy espresso in Budapest. Your face is welted by the imprints of your backpack zipper because you took care to sleep on your few belongings. Instead of the steadiness of an airplane ride, sitting on a train is to be a witness of the changing landscapes, of the people coming on and off the platform, the scrum of moving forward and learning how to sit still.

I have found three things I have faith in while riding on trains: love, solitude, and asking questions. They are, in ways, extensions of each other. To love is to embed within the grains of affirmation and failure. The humility and ego that come uninvited with these experiences of loving require asking questions of yourself and another, while also stepping away to remember who you are outside of someone else.

There’s no order to loving and being alone and asking questions: they are all a combustion of reacting to what must be done to be better, to be greater than what we think we are. To survive. They are our mirrors of experience deepened into no-name meaning. Clarity is not a guarantee, because we all are capable of lying, of having former selves answer for us.  But a train pulls us along to see what is to come.

To ask questions is not as intellectual as it may sound. It is to want to feel a situation outside of your life view, to know the stories that happened before the outcomes. It is to strive to not be trite no matter the hardships you’ve pillowed beneath the joys, because questions are not about who you are. To ask questions… is a loving choice of asking to know what you do not know, an act of saying you do not assume, that you will not judge, that you are listening. It is a gesture to surrender to the expanse of all that you may not ever know fully when you speak to someone. These moments of asking, in silence and the soft punctuation of voice, are interims of existing. They consist of an invisible transformation after everything that’s already been done but now voiced. They are a guiding prelude of everything you must do now. Hold onto them, let them go, and let them return.

I found love on a train in India. One morning, I was woken up by the strange strokes of small fingers against my dirty socks and the smell of burning trash when I blasted my eyes open. Three sets of children’s arms were half teetering on the ladder to my upper bunk, giggling as I twisted myself off of my lumpy backpack to face them. They ran away, bumping into old women in magenta and capsicum hued saris. They wove their way towards samosas being sold through the cracks of metal barred windows rusted from the 1950’s. I settled into my book, a pilfered find from a hostel back in Varanassi, Alex Haley’s “The Autobiography of Malcolm X.” My boyfriend slept soundly on the bunk below. The thin plastic mattress creaked as I shifted to stretch a little before we would get off in a few hours to the mayhem of Mumbai.

It would have been 28 hours on the train, our route starting in Varanassi near the ghats and ending in Mumbai’s maze-like metropolis, where cows walked in the roads next to skyscrapers. This was our second full month together, which began in Nepal in October and would end in May in Mumbai after seven months of travel, without a single day spent apart.

When I look back at this relationship, my very first boyfriend, I cannot help but feel that it was more than just my first series of train rides: it was learning how to give trust to uncertainty, because things always seemed to work themselves out after 28 hours. We rode so many trains on that trip that became a stamp of first love, the gift of freedom that gave us mornings huddled together on a rain soaked train winding its way through the jungle of Sri Lanka and the promising endlessness of starched bright desert in Jasailmer. 

Sometimes we were quiet from the night before, when we argued about money or about small infractions, like how I wasn’t okay eating street food (so dumb, just get sick it’s fine, I think now). Sometimes we were so content drinking chai out of small ceramic cups, a rupee each. Sometimes I could feel the burst of my heart against the walls of fear when he would run off the train with not a minute before it left, swinging around the corner into our section with newspaper-wrapped samosas and I would wrap my arms around him with this melting relief.

Those trains led us all around India, all the way to the North of Thailand from Bangkok, where we worked for a month at a holistic rehabilitation center near Chiang Rai. We found our way back to India running onto trains that led us from Kolkata to Agra, to Rajasthan. It pierces me how much of the good and the bad were catalysts of the train, of losing money and stumbling upon conversations of what we wanted in our lives that would last for hours... the exchange of ideas of what we were reading swelling our need to move and find things out for ourselves, together and apart in our own thoughts. The mixture of sitting still while staring at the reel of passing desert into darkness, only to watch it all fall away, brought the next round of chai’s and holding each other’s gaze. It was as if to let the other know we were there without saying anything, that it was okay to be afraid sometimes, to trust, because that too would fall away. Home was far away but becoming wherever we were sleeping that night. I imagine this when I imagine how my traveling life began on trains. I was twenty.

I found solitude on a train from Seattle to Bellingham. Amtrak became my constant companion my first year of college, when each ambling walk to class became myself obsessed with figuring out who I was going to be, and who I was going to be was not where I was in this docile hippie college town. The swarms of joining and breaking social groups in the dorms, where girls would form quick alliances then herd from gym to cafeteria to class, confused me. I had dreamed college would be a slew of coffee dates and discussing pretentiously directed seminars on Camus. People who had lived in Paris would become my friends, and they would inquire about my time living in England as a thirteen-year-old loner who found solace reading in the musty library and asking strangers if I could eat with them. Basically, I expected my life to be like a low-budget indie feature film.

Each weekend became a disappointment of how lame the parties were, although I still wanted to go to them, and classes packed with four-hundred people discussing Murphy’s Law. I would go home to see my parents and unload my existential grief, but these train rides gave me a harsh glare of my entitlement, my craving for direction that I couldn’t create at that moment, a space for me to daydream of what was to come, which involved going to far off places where I would truly feel like an “artist.”

So I would draw and draw, write, think, listening to music and seeing the mountains meeting the Sound in a new way. I remember my first winter break lugging my duffel onto the train and settling at a window seat, the saltiness of the air and my feelings weighing heavy on my pen as I set myself on drawing my way into Juilliard or some New York bound school. I was all about the accolades, the rewards, recognition. 

Doing art made me tired of myself sometimes, and for good reason, because I asked so many questions but didn’t know what else to do with myself. Why couldn’t I just be someone who simply enjoyed things? If I was to accept my peripatetic leanings, I needed to decide what kind of artist I would be, which is probably why I posed like a judgmental-sensitive Kate Moss fascist in all black 24/7, dangling my Baudelaire book and willingness to take a tequila shot at a fake rave because I was so intent on being well-rounded COOL. Ugh.

Maybe I’d be an actress or a street artist or… I don’t know. At that moment, I was really into replaying the start and stop of the night before, which had transpired like a really shitty Boy Meets World revival that I thought was really, really deep. I had tried to kiss a boy I’d already kissed before, swirling in innocent dorm drinking, celebrating the end of finals and the ending legalization of Four Lokos. He was from Colorado, liked watching Planet Earth but had sworn off weed in favor of incense, and was very unattainable because he was in an open relationship. So… complicated, and thus very appealing to figure out. This was even before astrological compatibility was en vogue.

He made me want to do shrooms because apparently you could see the universe in a kaleidoscope and have some Jungian insight about your priorities. He was worldly and had lived in the Utah desert and was set to go to India and wrote Arabic on his notecards with my calligraphy pens when we would study together in the library. But yes, he had rejected my optioning that we could be a thing, because he was focused and that made me angry, because it meant that I had none if I was going after a boy who wouldn’t chase me. So I did what I always did when I fell down, which was to reject the rejector and still chase after them half-heartedly and be sort of apocalyptic about how my art would always be the most consistent and torturous thing to pursue. I filled so many afternoons drained with furiously typing poems that I later hated. I wish I had seen the sweetness of it all then, which now I see as beautiful for trying to make things matter, even if it was all a bit contrived and suburban girl angsty, like a bad 90′s sitcom spinoff doused in nice clothing and bad cocktail choices in a college town.

“I’m okay,” I would think after I would finish the train ride and disembark towards another destination: home, filled with heated coffee cups and roads I knew well enough to sleepwalk drive, even for a temporary time. I was nineteen.

I found asking questions on a train heading from Toulouse to Bordeaux to St. Foy La Grande. I was twenty-five, on the heels of a breakup, and headed to go meditate for a week straight to “get rid of” this self-antagonizing, self-fabling stewing. I wanted to stop screwing myself over. I couldn’t keep dwelling.

It was time to transfer at Bordeaux, a mad dash to get my ticket and run to the next train for St. Foy La Grande, where Buddhist nuns would be awaiting to bring a group of us to Thich Nhat Hahn’s “hamlets.”

I scanned the train times and asked a stern looking attendant where I was supposed to go in halting French, trying to rephrase before she threw her hands up and gave up. “Fuck… okay,” I got mad at myself then realized this was whatever, I’d figure it out. I decided to say c’est la vie and run to the platform I thought was usually the route, with an end stop of Bergerac. I ran through a bunch of peacoats and perfectly lipsticked French faces to the platform with an end stop of Bergerac and found it was my stop: ça roule.

“Is this the train to St. Foy La Grande?” a woman asked me in English. She was carrying a small luggage with her and had a twangy Australian accent, looked about in her sixties, and had sassy frosted pink lipstick and had matched her powder blue luggage to her cashmere sweater. She was also traveling alone and had a beautiful French train employee named Pierre carrying her other bag for her. Her name was Sheryl. I liked her immediately. She had the exact kind of throw caution to the wind but take care of yourself older woman allure that I wanted. We ended up talking the whole train ride to St. Foy La Grande, where I asked her questions and she asked me some and more.

I asked where she was from (New Zealand, my faulty mistake). I asked why she traveled (her husband had died a few years ago and she needed to move). She gave me the salt of the earth older woman advice that I so craved as a wandering but not quite so young but sometimes a beginner mid-twenty-something-year-old.

“I started traveling when I was young, but over the last few years I haven’t settled much until now,” she told me. “No matter how much I moved around after Alan’s death, the grief still followed me. I could be waking up in a villa in Santorini, greeted by the sun and the surf, looking fantastic in a white string bikini with sangria and pool boys surrounding me, and I would sometimes feel close to nothing. I would feel grateful while watching a sunset, but my head would be a haze of sadness. These things follow you, you know. Loss. You just have to learn how to sit still with time and somehow, after going through all of that hell, you find some light without needing to try so hard.”

Now she was having a light affair with her gardener and had the cut the bullshit and go be awesome attitude that was hard-earned with age and experience.

“Honey, as hard as it is, it’s important to learn how to keep it light. I was like you and tried to find the depth in questions.  I wondered how men who didn’t wonder so much about me could be figured out or try and find something that didn’t quite exist in them. Just learn to leave it. Just be an international woman of mystery, and the suitors will come calling, but they’re only the appetizer. The most important journeys, like train rides, are the ones where you ride alone or are accompanied by a friend to cut you up in laughter. Or the ones you stare out the window wondering where you’re meant to be. These journeys are the ones that sweeten the real love, that bring a friendship deeper to yourself or with a girlfriend. They are the ones where you discover yourself most that will give you the type of grace and grit that allow you to say hello and goodbye to places and people that don’t ask anything from you as long as you don’t ask anything from them. These sweeten the deal of life.”

When I headed back from St. Foy La Grande to Bordeaux to Toulouse Matabieu, I had spent a week meditating, especially on Sheryl’s life wisdom. I had thought a lot and not thought so much simultaneously. Who knew breathing could be breathing into something greater. It lightened my soul to feel the depth of being good enough for now again, of being curious, of realizing it wasn’t all about me, all these thoughts and feelings backstories but not the main show.

The main show was being right here, no dress rehearsal needed or discussing too much so as to not infringe upon instinct to act with that grace and grit Sheryl spoke of. I sipped a super fine glass of wine after a week of tea and watched a sheet of bright blue sky and laughed at and with myself, this me sitting at a cafe by the train station while the nuns waved, pretty damn happy with myself. Because being young and free can be a whole life thing if you can laugh a wild laughter in the heart of sadness, not to discredit, but to say “I’m back” even for just a second. I was twenty-six.

#womenwhotravel ridingtrains travelwisdom

[todaybharatnews]

via Today Bharat Eager to go ahead with auspicious dates, couples marry online, complete with cousins dancing in coordination from across various locations This combination photo shows bride Keerti Narang posing for a picture at her home in Bareilly before her marriage with groom Sushen Dang who is seen dancing with his family in Mumbai, and a priest who solemnised the marriage sitting in Chhattisgarh. Under lockdown and far apart, Sushen Dang and Keerti Narang went online to say their marriage vows -- and pulled off a spectacular Indian wedding complete with thousands of guests and raucous Bollywood dancing. New Delhi: Under lockdown and far apart, Sushen Dang and Keerti Narang went online to say their marriage vows—and pulled off a spectacular Indian wedding complete with thousands of guests and raucous Bollywood dancing. In a country famous for lavish weddings that last for days, the young couple are among a growing number modifying their marriage ceremonies under a virus lockdown that has limited public gatherings. Eager to go ahead with the arranged marriage on the auspicious date selected for them by a priest, the pair turned to the internet to tie the knot. “We never imagined that even our online wedding would be so grand,” Dang, a 26-year-old data analyst who is based in Toronto, told AFP of the April 19 event. “A hundred guests joined in our celebration on the app. We live-streamed the ceremony on Facebook which was watched by another 16,000 people.” The nuptials spanned the country. Dang, decked out in a turban and traditional sherwani kurta, logged on from Mumbai on the coast of the Arabian Sea, while Narang—in her red bridal finery—joined from Bareilly in northern Uttar Pradesh state that borders Nepal. The priest overseeing proceedings chanted hymns as he sat before a ritual fire at his home in Raipur in the central state of Chhattisgarh, with guests logging in from Delhi, Gurgaon and the southern tech hub of Bangalore. There were minor hiccups—some elderly family members were accidentally unmuted and pets photo-bombed screens. But the energy levels remained high and the occasion was capped off with a fun Bollywood-style dance performance by their cousins. The wedding video posted on Facebook has so far garnered nearly 260,000 views, making the newly-weds “feel like celebrities”. Wedding blues The spread of the coronavirus and the nationwide lockdown took place as India’s wedding season was in full swing. In western Rajasthan state alone some 23,000 weddings meant to coincide with the Hindu Akshaya Tritiya festival on April 26 were called off due to the pandemic. More than 10 million weddings are held annually in the nation of 1.3 billion people, with the marriage industry estimated to be worth some $40-$50 billion, according to advisory firm KPMG. The sector—like the rest of the economy—is reeling from the impact of the virus, with planners, caterers and decorators among those who have incurred huge losses. “We thought, ‘Why don’t we be the flag-bearers and drive weddings online?’,” said Adhish Zaveri, marketing director at matrimonial website Shaadi.com which facilitated Dang and Narang’s wedding. “A wedding is probably the most important day of somebody’s life ... and we thought we have to make it as special and close to a real wedding as possible,” he told AFP. Online nuptials are among a string of weddings in India that have gone ahead amid the lockdown—with some unusual variations. One couple in Uttar Pradesh said “I do” inside a police station after more conventional venues like banquet halls, hotels and temples were all ordered closed during the lockdown. Home nuptials Zaveri said the significantly cheaper online ceremonies could become an option for couples amid the uncertainty about how long the pandemic is going to last. Couples are charged less than 100,000 rupees ($1,300) for the virtual services, Zaveri said, adding 12 more such weddings were in the pipeline. To give the online ceremonies a professional touch, make-up artists and sari-draping experts are hired to help the bride, while a folk singer is engaged to serenade the guests. All participants are sent logins and passwords so that strangers can’t gatecrash the event. Kirti Agrawal—who married her beau Avinash Singh Bagri on April 14 on the balcony of their relative’s flat as friends and family watched on a videoconferencing app—said the digital approach appealed to her. “Their (groom’s) family had planned a guest list of 8,000 to 10,000,” Agrawal told AFP. “It isn't that I am not a fan of big, fat weddings. But when I heard about the wedding-from-home idea, I was very happy.”

#IFTTT #Today Bharat

[hurakadli-blog]

My father was not a hero and yet I looked upto him

I never thought I would pen down this and I had almost quit blogging (Even tumblr said my account was non existent and my previous blogs were not visible. I had to retrieve the password and re-activate the account). And here I am, writing this in the most truthful manner possible, baring and sharing some memories.

I lost my 77 year old father very recently and a lot of things have been running on my mind since then. I felt writing and sharing this with my close family and friends might give some peace to me. I really dont know.

My father was not a hero and yet I looked upto him in almost all walks of my life - unknowingly, unwillingly in most places and admirably in few places may be. Infact, my wife keeps telling me that I’m a lot like my father ( and I always thought I was like my mother). My father was a completely self made man. He lost his parents very early in his life and pretty much became a doctor on his own. He sold cigarettes, pens, notebooks and other small student essentials in his medical college hostel to meet his tuition fees and daily expenses. Every penny he spent on himself and what he has left for us now was earned by him. I cannot even imagine how he could do that.

Me and my sister, while growing up, always thought money was always there with us. My father was very miserly and always looked for ‘sasta and tikaoo’ items when he took us for shopping school essentials like shoes, school bags, notebooks etc. and more often than not we ended up getting cheap, barely decent, but strong  items. We always wondered why he was like that and very obvious to that age, deprived feelings started accumulating within, which years later, came out in the form of extreme anger.  Now, if I look back, I think a part of that was probably justified. But I’m still not convinced he did the right things.  Even today, I spend very wisely ( still always looking at price tags first and product later!). Blood is thicker than water for a reason and not just like that.

Contrary to many families, my father introduced me to Hindi movies. Back then when I was in middle and high school, there was only 1 TV channel - DD1 at my home. DD1 used to broadcast 1 Hindi movie each on Friday night and Saturday night every week at 9.30pm. I have watched every single Amitabh Bachchan angry young man classic movie with my dad. How amazing is that! Amar Akbar Anthony, Muqqaddar ka sikandar, Parwana, Suhaag, Roti,Kapda Aur Makaan, Don, Namak Halaal, Namak Haram, Mard, Coolie, Kaala Pathhar, Deewar, Khuda Gawah, Naseeb, the timeless classic Sholay - we have watched almost everything together. Much to the dismay of others, we have even watched Bobby, Satyam Shivam Sundaram and Aradhana together. Even till date, a lot of friends and colleagues wonder how I can converse in Hindi so fluently inspite of being a South Indian. Some of them attribute that to my studying days in Pilani, Rajasthan. However, only I know that it is all because of the countless Hindi movies I have watched with my dad. And yet he didnt’t watch a single movie in theatre in 35 years.

With my father, it was always either his way or highway. There was no midway. This was applicable to any stranger or his own wife or son or brothers ( I’m intentionally leaving out daughter from this list as I have my doubts there as he always had a special soft spot for her) in exactly the same manner.  He was a really stubborn man. It was always a digital relationship status with him either 1 or 0. By nature, he was a very limited conversationalist and even in that he would talk only to people he liked and never said a hi or hello to the people he didn’t like. It used to be very frustrating and irritating for all of us in the immediate family. But 1 thing about this also was that he never talked ill of the people he disliked at their back. He never had a double faced personality.  I have always criticized this side of him. But of late, in last 2-3 years, I started realising how difficult a trait it was, to follow what you stand for, under any circumstances. Easier said than followed. But he was what he was and always stood his ground, right or wrong.  I may not be proud of a lot of his actions because of  this, but I’m definitely super proud of his rock solid firm attitude. I would want to develop that firm attitude some day.  

Like any other father-son relationship, even ours was a very complex one, filled with more fights than normal conversations. My father was a rebel and never listened to his father. I am a born rebel and hence I never listened to my father. Conflicts were bound to occur. ( Now that,  I have a son, my wife keeps telling me what goes around comes back. I hope not). Back in 2002, he wanted me to pursue a career in medicine while I wanted to study engineering. This led to a major faceoff in the house and we didnt talk to each other for quite sometime. And then later after I completed my engineering, he wanted to me go to the US or Europe for pursuing higher studies. This time around again I backed off and decided to stay back in India and disappointed him again. He never wanted any of his children to stay back in India ( a wish his daughter is fulfilling now). As destiny would have it, I was in the US for a very short 2 week trip when my father fell critically ill for the last time.

My father was a liberal and conservative both. For some reason known only to him, he firmly believed that every individual should be financially independent, especially every woman in every single household. All along in my entire life till now, I have not seen any other husband encourage his wife's career and put her career over his, more than my father. Back in 1992, when my parents decided to pursue post graduation in medicine, they got seats only for D.Ortho and D.G.O ( both diploma seats). This meant that they would never be on par with MD doctors and they would never be professors if at all they decided to join any medical college. Having understood this quickly, my father bargained hard with the college management for an arrangement wherein he would forego his D.Ortho seat in return for a MD (OBG) seat for my mother, which didn't happen. This truly showed how much he cared for my mother's career at the cost of his own career. Very recently, after my wife gave birth to my son and after my sister gave birth to my nephew, he was very keen on both of them joining back to work although he never said a single word to either of them. When both of them joined back to work, he rejoiced in his own characteristic silent manner without showing anything to either of them.

As I mentioned in the previous paragraph, my parents started their post graduation in 1992 and finished that in 1994. So, my father was 50 and my mother was 40 when they started their post graduation. No big deal! Just that most people would start planning their retirement at the age of 52 while my father was planning a new career. Right now, I'm 35 years old and I get so frustrated and scared when people around me talk about switching to a new verification methodology or changing the work domain. When he planned his career move, his teaching staff and professors were younger than him and made fun of his big pot belly and age in front of others. ( I got to know this first hand from one of his professors, much younger to him, visited our home much later in 2000 or so). My mother never wanted to pursue post graduation as she lacked confidence at the age of 40. Today, my mother is a reasonably successful gynaecologist in Shimoga. She credits a large part of her little success to my father. Had he not pushed her, she would have been a general practitioner even now.

While growing up, I always used to wonder why would any patient come to get treated from a gutka betel leaf chewing, curtly speaking insensitive doctor who gave injections in such painful manner.( I never took injections from him except for once and I got treated by a different orthopaedic doctor when I broke my left hand once). And his handwriting was horrific. ( He himself struggled to read he wrote). I found answer to this question years later when I understood what medical profession involved.  There are 2 aspects to medical treatment for any ailment - Diagnosis and Appropriate treatment. While most of us patients are really interested in getting the treatment and moving on with life, we fail to understand that if the ailment is not diagnosed properly, it cannot be treated. Bingo!! My father's expertise was diagnosis and not treatment. I have heard so many stories over the years about his dead accurate diagnosis now. People used to just come to him and show the reports and wait for him to speak. He would probably say 1 or 2 sentences in a very straightforward manner without mincing words and they accepted that gladly.

I have way too many memories which are coming to me now. But I neither have  the sufficient skillset to write a book nor the time to do so. I will keep those for myself. In a nutshell, he was a very simple, hard working, short tempered, stubborn man who pretty much kept to himself and stayed in that special room in our home where breathed his last, watching political news on TV  almost all the time while he was at home.

People who know me know that I'm a very big fan of Leander Paes. Lately, I started finding a lot of similarities between my father's and Leander Paes - both had their share of near death experiences and both fought through them and emerged as winners on more than one occassion, both eccentric, both with "dont give a fuck" attitude to the world.( Ofcourse my father didn't have many privileges which Paes enjoyed). If anyone is following Paes lately, he is urging his fans to support him in his "One Last Roar" campaign in 2020, at the end of which he will retire. My father last ate food on 22nd January 2020. He could not consume food for last 22 days of his life which has eaten me since his death. He didn't get his chance for "One Last Roar" and he passed away silently in his sleep on my parents 40th wedding anniversary on February 13th 2020.

Given a chance and choice, I would like to be reborn to same parents 100 times again with everything unchanged. I would like to grow up with my father, have the same fights all over again, probably in a more fierceful manner. However, next time around, I would want him to enjoy his life more.

As much as I would like to write as per norm "Rest in peace Appaji", I will not do that.

I sign off with this note " Keep roaring wherever you are in that other world Appaji", because I always liked seeing you that way.

[fadingfartconnoisseur]

My India Travel Itinerary: 1 Month Across India by Train!

Today I’m sharing my India travel itinerary with you all. One month in India may sound like a long time, but when you’re planning to travel in such a big country, one month can feel like a huge time constraint. Where should you go and what should you do?!

Sam and I ended up in India as part of our annual winter escape with his parents. So far we’ve done Southeast Asia and South America together, and this year they wanted to travel in India. The two big items on their travel bucket list were the Taj Mahal in Agra and the Ganges in Varanasi; aside from that we were free to plan the whole itinerary. Sam and I then started talking about Rajasthan, the trip started expanding, and next thing you knew, we were travelling the full width of the country by train from Jaisalmer to Kolkata!

I’ve already shared a few little snippets of our time in India in previous posts, but today I’m going to outline our 1-month India travel itinerary for anyone considering a similar trip.

1-Month India Travel Itinerary

Delhi

// 4 days //

Our first stop was Delhi and what an introduction to India! It was chaotic, it was colourful, and it was a whirlwind.

We spent our first day touring the Red Fort, which was once the main residence of the Mughal emperors. It may be called a fort, but this place is more like a walled city and you could easily spend half a day here visiting the bazaar, hammam, gardens, courtyards and palaces.

On our second day we toured Humayun’s Tomb which was commissioned by the Emperor’s wife after his death. It’s a majestic sight with beautiful surrounding grounds.

From there we took a pedal rickshaw to the Lodhi Gardens which house beautiful tombs and they are a popular spot with families on weekends – we saw birthday parties, picnics, and plenty of cricket games taking place. Just outside the gardens you also have Lodi – The Garden Restaurant, which is a bit of a splurge but offers al fresco dining surrounded by nature.

Our third day in Delhi was reserved for visiting Jama Masjid in the morning. This is the largest mosque (by size) in all of India, so we couldn’t leave without a glimpse of the interior. Keep in mind that the mosque is not open to visitors during prayer times, so you’ll want to plan your visit accordingly.

Many people will tell you to get in and out of Delhi as quickly as possible, but even after three full days there I felt I could have used more time to see the rest of the sights.

If you have a bit more time you can consider visiting: India Gate, Safdarjung’s Tomb, the Lotus Temple, Akshardham Temple, Jantar Mantar, plus lots of markets. If you ask me, you need at least a week in Delhi to see it all! You can have a quick look of my Delhi highlights here.

Where I stayed:

Tara Palace Hotel Daryaganj

We booked this hotel because it was a modern property located in a quiet area, yet still within walking distance of the Red Fort. The rooms were spacious and clean, the staff was beyond helpful and friendly, and while there weren’t many restaurants on our street, the hotel served up great meals at their in-house restaurant.

Jaisalmer

// 3 days //

Jaisalmer was my favourite stop in Rajasthan. Yes, it was a long train ride to get there, but it was worth it in the end! Jaisalmer, also known as the Golden City, is one of those places that seemingly rises out of the desert like a mirage. The yellow sandstone buildings blend in with the colours of the sand, and the city has a bit of a magical feel to it.

The main attraction in town is the Jaisalmer Fort, but it’s such a massive place and there is so much to see and do that you could easily revisit again and again over the course of your stay.

Inside the fort, you can tour the Raj Mahal, the palace where royal members resided, and the Jain Temples, which are renowned for their intricate craftsmanship. As for souvenir shopping, there is no shortage of shops and stalls selling tapestries, hand painted postcards, leather goods, metalware, and all sorts of art and crafts.

Jaisalmer’s location also makes it a popular jump off point for camel treks in the Thar Desert. We did an afternoon trek where we rode camels, climbed dunes to watch the sunset, had dinner, waited for the stars to appear (sadly, it was an overcast night!), and then returned back to the city.

If you’re feeling a bit more adventurous you can camp out for the night or organize a longer tour. Sam did a 4-day camel trek through the Thar Desert many years back and he’s got some good stories from that trip – including surviving a flash flood that involved climbing trees and then seeking refuge in a small village! – but an afternoon excursion was enough for me.

If you have a bit more time in Jaisalmer you can also consider visiting Bada Bagh, a garden complex about 6 kilometres outside the city, which houses royal cenotaphs (empty tombs). You can find my full Jaisalmer itinerary here.

Where I stayed:

Tokyo Palace Hotel

This hotel was amazing and the rooms were full of character – exposed yellow sandstone, window day bed with silk pillows, traditional dark wood furniture, and colourful glass lanterns. They also had a great rooftop restaurant that had the best views of Jaisalmer Fort, plus a second rooftop where you could watch the sunrise. The staff were also very kind and helpful, and they offered a free pick-up and drop-off service at the train station.

Jodhpur

// 3 days //

Next up, we visited Jodhpur, the famed Blue City of Rajasthan. I was expecting it to be similar to Jaisalmer in size, but Jodhpur is a full blown city that can be a little tricky to navigate.

The main attraction in Jodhpur is Mehrangarh Fort, a place that looks like the setting of a fairy tale with elements of science fiction. Mehrangarh Fort houses an impressive museum where you can see paintings, costumes, armour, and furnishings that would have been used by the rulers. Inside the fort, there’s also a nice cafe called Café Mehran which serves up some of the best samosas I had in India.

We also visited the Sardar Market which encircles the Clock Tower. It was not my favourite area, but that does put you in close proximity to two really good restaurants that we coincidentally discovered. The first is Indique, which is a rooftop restaurant that’s popular for sunset drinks; and the second is Jhankar, which is set in a lush courtyard and serves up a delicious Rajisthani thali – this was my favourite restaurant in town!

When we weren’t eating in Jodhpur (and it seems that we visited more restaurants than we did attractions!), we were wandering the blue maze that is this city.

Where I stayed:

Jewel Palace Haveli

We got the Deluxe Room with Castle View and like the name suggests, we had amazing views of the fort and the blue city. Yes, that picture you see right above was taken from our hotel! While I loved staying in a traditional haveli, we did find the staff quite forgetful – we had to repeatedly ask for things like bedsheets, towels and toilet paper. So although I would recommend staying at a haveli as it’s such a unique type of accommodation, I would also suggest finding a property with better ratings. You can browse havelis in Jodhpur here.

Jaipur

// 3 days //

We then travelled to Jaipur, which is nicknamed the Pink City. The attractions in Jaipur were beautiful, but we also signed up for a day tour that turned into a bit of a nightmare. I would not recommend the day tour operated by RTDC (Rajasthan Tourism Development Commission); we raced from attraction to attraction with an unhappy guide who lost half the people in his group, scheduled several commission-based shopping stops, and had a very negative attitude, but that’s a story for another day.

If I were to redo my time in Jaipur, I would try to cover less attractions and visit these on my own, perhaps only hiring a driver to get me to some of the further sites.

Our longest stop of the day was at the City Palace and I’m glad we had the time to visit this place thoroughly. The City Palace is a complex housing several buildings within it and you could easily spend half a day wandering around. You have Mubarak Mahal, housing a textile museum; Chandra Mahal, the residence of the descendants of the former rulers of Jaipur; Diwan-i-Khas, the Hall of Private Audience; Diwan-i-Am, the Hall of Public Audience; and plenty more.

Just a short walk from the City Palace, you also have Jantar Mantar, which is a collection of architectural astronomical instruments that were built in the 18th century. There are a total of 19 instruments that would have been used to study the planets and the stars, and it kind of made me wish they did night tours so we could actually see these instruments put in action. Alas, the site closes at 4:30 in the afternoon!

On our tour we raced to three different forts – Nahargarh Fort, Jaigarh Fort, and the Amber Fort –  but to be honest, our visits were so brief that I can’t say I truly saw any of them. If I had to redo it, I would have chosen one fort – probably the Amber Fort since it’s just outside Jaipur – and focused on enjoying that one to the max.

Another major landmark that we only got to see in passing through the bus window was Hawa Mahal, also known as the Palace of Winds. This is a pink structure that kind of resembles a honeycomb, which was used by ladies of the royal household who wanted to observe processions and everyday life in the city, but remain unseen.

Where I stayed:

Jai Niwas

We stayed at a little boutique hotel that had a bit of an old British feel. What sold me were the gardens complete with outdoor furniture so that you could enjoy a book or a cup of tea out on the lawn after a long day of sightseeing. The staff at this hotel were also very sweet, always helping us with directions and offering to find us transportation when needed.

Agra

// 4 days //

Our first full day in Agra was a Friday, which meant the Taj Mahal was closed for visitors, so we decided to visit Agra Fort instead. This was the residence of the Mughal emperors before they moved their capital over to Delhi and built the Red Fort, so it was kind of cool spotting some of the similarities between the two places.

The following day we made it to the Taj Mahal, which was even more beautiful in person than I expected. It’s funny, sometimes when you’ve seen a place in photos or documentaries, it can be a bit of a let down in person, but that was not the case with the Taj. It radiated against the bright blue skies, and then once we got closer we were able to see all the arabesques and floral details done in precious stones.

We also made time to visit the Taj Protected Forest, which is located just outside the east gate. This is a nice scenic walk and because there are a few lookout points you also get views of the Taj Mahal off in the distance.

Lastly, before hopping on the overnight train, we visited the Baby Taj, whose real name is the Tomb of I’timād-ud-Daulah. This tomb was built for Mizra Ghiyas Beg, who was the grandfather of Mumtaz Mahal (the woman the Taj Mahal was built for). This was the first Mughal structure to be built entirely out of marble and it’s often compared to a jewelry box because it is covered in semi-precious stones.

From the Baby Taj, it’s only a short drive to Mehtab Bagh, or the Moonlight Garden. The gardens sit directly behind the Taj and across the river, so it’s a popular spot to catch the sunset. You can read this post for a better look at the places we visited in Agra.

Where I stayed:

The Coral Court Homestay Hotel

Alright, so this was my favourite hotel of the whole trip! Not only was it a beautiful property lovingly decorated with trinkets from around the world, but it was also a short walk from East Gate, which made it very easy to get to the Taj Mahal on foot. I also loved that in the evenings we had the option of having dinner with the other hotel guests in a communal setting. They served home cooked vegetarian meals and we devoured every last bowl of pumpkin and eggplant curries. The hosts were lovely and I would highly recommend this place!

Varanasi

// 4 days //

After taking the overnight train from Agra, we arrived in Varanasi, which was the second last destination of our month in India.

The main attraction in Varanasi is the Ganges River and everything that happens along the water’s edge, so we spent our first morning walking along the ghats (the steps leading down to the river).

There was so much going on that we almost didn’t know where to look, but what surprised me the most was seeing people doing laundry in the Ganges! What?!?!?!

Hotel towels and bedsheets were being washed in the dark waters and these were then being draped to dry in the sun on the ghats. Laundry was happening not too far from where bodies were being cremated, and then people were bathing so close to the cremation site that the ashes were floating around their ankles…

I think that was the moment when I experienced culture shock in India.

Another popular activity in Varanasi is to go on a boat ride down the Ganges River. Sunrise and sunset draw people for soft, golden light – if you want the buildings to be illuminated, you’ll want to go at sunrise.

Hotels and tour operators across town can help you arrange this outing, or you can just walk down to the river and find a boatman on the spot.

We also attended the Ganga Aarti ceremony which takes place on Dashashwamedh Ghat starting at 6:45 p.m. This fire worship ceremony is performed by a group of priests soon after sundown, and crowds gather to watch them sing, burn incense, and light candles.

Places fill up fast so it’s good to arrive early if you want to snag a spot near the action. Some of the temples along the ghats offer priority seating for a small fee (about 50 rupees) where you can observe the ceremony from a high vantage point, or you can also pay to watch from a boat.

Where I stayed:  

Ganges Grand Hotel

I stayed at the Ganges Grand Hotel and while it was a great location and the rooms were clean and spacious, the hotel was located in a busy intersection, which meant the honking and traffic noise could be heard in the background from sunup to sundown. If you’re a light sleeper, you may want to look elsewhere, but aside from that I have no real complaints. They also served up some delicious Indian dishes in their restaurant. You can browse hotels in Varanasi here.

Kolkata

// 3 days //

This brings us to our final stop in India: Kolkata.

Admittedly, I didn’t do a whole lot of sightseeing in Kolkata since I got quite ill just before leaving Varanasi, but I did manage to explore a bit of the area on my last day there. Sam and I visited the Sir Stuart Hogg Market (also known as New Market), photographed the iconic yellow cabs, and then finished the day at Blue & Beyond, which is a nice little rooftop resto-bar in the Lindsay Hotel.

I would have liked to visit Mother Theresa’s Home, see the Victoria Memorial Hall, and walk around the Maidan, but sometimes you just can’t win them all.

Where I stayed: 

I can’t recommend the hotel where I stayed since I ended up sharing the room with a mouse! The Astoria Hotel looked great in photos, but we were placed in the “Old Wing”, which looked nothing like what we saw online. We found cigarette butts in the bathroom, a dirty shower, mouldy walls, but what’s worse was the staff’s lack of interest in their guests. Despite my hotel’s shortcomings, I did enjoy the neighbourhood, so I would suggest staying just east of the Maidan in what’s known as Colootola – you can search for Kolkata hotels here. There are lots of hotels and restaurants in this area, plus it also puts you within walking distance of many of the attractions.

And that finally concludes my month-long India travel itinerary. We visited a total of 7 destinations, giving ourselves 3-4 days in each place, and travelling entirely by train. I will say that travel in India is exhausting in ways that other destinations aren’t – don’t go into it thinking it’ll be a walk in the park! – but we also saw some beautiful sights and architectural wonders that made it all worth it. More posts from India with practical travel tips coming soon!

Have you travelled in India? Is there anything else you’d add to this India travel itinerary?

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