Man, woman and their travels

    As you watch travel vlogs on YouTube, you will often see a man and a woman touring fascinating and unexplored places in the world. There are also solo travelers, but I find "couples" to be the more interesting kind- a man and a woman. Just two people, braving against all odds. The kind of life these couples have chosen to live reminds me of the lives that early men had- living amongst nature, gathering food from the wild, and never settling in one place. The circumstances of these vlogger couples are quite similar but with the addition of technology to record their adventures and allow viewers to enjoy the journeys, albeit vicariously, through their films. During the 2020 lockdown, such travel videos were a delight to watch when all we could do was stay indoors for days.

    Man, as a living entity, is designed to thrive in the company of others and yearns to be a part of a community. Even if there isn't a community, the company of another person is enough to sail through life. Perhaps this is why, in these vlogs, you'll witness merely a guy and a woman doing everything on their own, most times without a group of people helping them. They enjoy traveling together, documenting their experiences, shooting their own photographs, and recording their strolls through the forest, only to return and retrieve the camera from the ground. In addition, life on these travels needs a plethora of knowledge on how to survive with minimal access to facilities. By nature, men and women are designed to possess different attributes which help them perform different tasks in life. While a woman, usually, is meticulous and disciplined, a man is seen to be good at decision-making and taking risks. These qualities work together to form a perfect alliance that enables them to face any challenge that life presents. Making them a complementary deal.

    Now, am I trying to advocate here that the combination of a man and a woman is the ideal scenario for traveling together? No, absolutely not. I'm talking about this pair of combinations as they fascinate me. My mind wonders how the basic instincts of a human drive him or her even after centuries of evolution. The desire to see new and different places has become one of the prime driving factors of modern life. Every soul has the desire to travel; some maybe be scared by the idea of it, find it exhausting to plan for one, or lack the initial funds to start a journey. But, if money were no obstacle, I'm sure a lot of people would pack their bags and leave for a trip this very instant. In fact, one of the prime reasons for hustling every day in the 9-5 jobs is to gather enough money to travel to that dream destination. Our hearts and minds yearn to visit places we've never seen before with our own eyes. And with these dreams in our unclosed eyes, we carry on with our daily work.

P.S. The birth of these thoughts took place while I was watching Ronnie & Barty's vlogs on YouTube. Absolutely mesmerizing, with brilliant voice-over, and captivating background music in each video. These guys know how to make a cinematic vlog which reminds me of the travel shows that I used to watch on Discovery and Travel & Living channels during my childhood.

A picturesque view from Meghalaya resembling a scene from The Shire from The Lord of the Rings

P.S. This piece was written a year back in June 2022. I'm publishing it in August 2023 as I saw it in my drafts and wanted it on my blog.

Holding on

 

Why I love reading books by William Dalrymple

    “Kohinoor” was the first novel that I read written by William Dalrymple. This book about a gem is indeed a gem of a book. The facts have been well researched as the book talks in meticulous detail about the origin and the travels of the diamond that we know today and how it came to be a part of the Crown Jewels of the United Kingdom. I first read about this diamond in a history class in school, and I've been captivated by it ever since. The book brings to light various scenes from Indian history and the passage of the ‘Mountain of Light’ (Koh-i-Noor) through multiple hands and finally being presented as a gift to Queen Victoria by the Boy-King Duleep Singh. I recommend this to anyone who is curious about the story of the stone. A remarkably interesting read indeed.

    The next book that I thoroughly enjoyed reading was William Dalrymple’s account of various places and communities of India in “The Age of Kali”. The work has been a culmination of first-hand information about incidents, events, customs, and norms from people who have lived through it all.

    It serves as a travelogue of the experiences that Dalrymple has gathered in his ten years of travel across the terrains of the Indian subcontinent. Picking up stories from the north to the south; from the land of Pakistan to what lies beyond the Indian Ocean. The book’s title refers to the fourth age of time, the Kali Yug, which India is believed to be at present. It is evident from the writing that the writer is overwhelmed as well as in awe of the beauty of the stories the country has to offer.

    I was particularly enthralled to learn how modernization came into being in Bangalore and the opposition that came with it from the localities who desperately tried to hold on to the charm of the old Bangalore city. Each of the true stories depicted in the book talks of something unheard of before. For anyone interested in discovering new tales about India, I assure you this book will feed your curiosity and keep you wanting more.

    Another interesting book I read from Mr. Dalrymple was “Nine Lives”. This was also the book that I got signed by the author at the "Times Literature Festival" held in Bangalore in February 2020. It was after attending many literature events that I finally got to meet him for an autograph and hear live from the author. 

    “Nine Lives” depicts the stories of nine different individuals, each following a different religious path. While journeying across India in quest of modernity and ancient traditions, Dalrymple met these nine people and learned about their holy beliefs. The narrative is structured in such a way that the characters in each story speak for themselves. Here's a thought-provoking line, from a story titled “The Maker of Idols”, that reads- “It’s the faith of devotees that turns it (the idol) into a god.”

    I recall another intriguing story titled- “The Lady Twilight”. It recounts the life of Manisha Ma Bhairavi, who came to Tarapith in search of Ma Tara, and continued to stay there as she felt deep protection from the goddess. Tarapith in Bengal, noted for its Tantric temple and the adjoining cremation grounds, has witnessed the survival of some of the oldest forms of Tantric rites in India. While Sadhus and Tantrics live there amidst skulls and corpses, scavengers in the cremation ground, and confronting their fear of death, for Manisha Ma, it is her home, one “where even the most damaged and marginal can find intimacy and community”. One of the many practices and beliefs they follow there is the practice of drinking from a skull. They believe the skulls give them power- Shakti of Ma Tara. Each of these stories will make you wonder, "What is meant by religious belief?" and "Is it the same as spirituality?"

    The fourth book that I was reading from William Dalrymple’s list was “The Anarchy”. I completed a few pages of it before I left for the US. The book tells the story of how the British ruled India for decades through the establishment of the East India Company. I hope to complete it someday.

    

    Each of Dalrymple’s books tells us a distinct story.  It is an achievement of the author to be able to recount tales of history in such vivid detail and draw up images of the times that we can only imagine now. I have a great appreciation for the author who went scouring for these stories and preserved them for the reader's delight. A true historian of the modern day.

Images are from Times Literature Festival held in Bangalore in February 2020. That is where I met him and got a book signed. 

 

Gift from a lover

A poem for the day celebrating love.

Valentine's day, 2023.

Shuggie Bain - a review

I often read books that are well-received by the reader community or ones that have been awarded in the literature community. One such recent read was "Shuggie Bain", a debut novel by Douglas Stuart, winner of the 2020 Booker prize. As I started Shuggie Bain, I had a preconceived notion that it could be a lengthy, repetitive description of the despairing lives of the characters, and a bleak central theme in general which would make it difficult to continue reading till the end. These reservations of mine arise from my previous reading experience. I have often found that the books with awards or the ones most popular on everyone's must-read list are often not suited to what I consider an interesting read for me. I'm not criticizing any book or author here. It's a recurring thought that has often struck me when I finish such books. 

So with these thoughts, I picked Shuggie Bain anticipating it to be a gritty tale of depressing incidents referred to over and over again throughout the length of the book. However, I was in for a surprise. The book's narration is from the point of view of Shuggie Bain; talking about the experiences in his life, his dysfunctional family set in the suffering of the Glasgow community in the 1980s, and his relationship with his alcoholic mother, Agnes. 

Shuggie is a young boy trying to find himself amidst the difficulties that life is throwing at him. Abandoned by his father, Hugh Bain, and half-siblings, Leek and Catherine, Shuggie finds himself burdened with all sorts of responsibilities and care for Agnes through her alcoholism and depression. He faces additional struggles as he is often bullied and abused at school and in the neighborhood for his effeminate characteristics. It is only so much that a young boy could do to sustain himself in a world around him that is self-consuming, cruel, and scary. As the story progresses, people move in and out of Agnes's life, affecting her in ways that leave her more damaged than before. However, it is only Shuggie, out of her three children, who stays by her side till the end. Caring for her like she was his child, believing that his love for his mother could save her. Despite the depressing narrative, the parts portraying a child's love for his mother would warm your heart, even if for a few seconds.

Ultimately, this dark tale of a boy's struggles and his mother will make your heart cry out in pain. As much as you wish a ray of hope to shine on their souls, the author keeps giving you more than one reason that would continue breaking your heart. At no point in time will the thought of "feeling sympathetic for the duo" leave you. The theme is, no doubt, bleak and full of despair, however, the writing is what keeps you wanting to continue reading it. Raw emotions are described so vividly that makes you feel like the characters are your next-door neighbors and you want to visit them to check if everything is fine. The helplessness of the society they live in, marred by unemployment, poverty, violence, and addiction issues are the effects of Margaret Thatcher's policies in the 1980s leaving the poor and working-class of Scotland in utter turmoil. And all you could do as a reader is just read about one such affected family and feel sorry.

I reached the end of the book to read the Acknowledgement section where the author mentions his mother, brother, and sister and their struggles. Stuart, the youngest of three siblings, was born in Sighthill, a housing estate in Glasgow, Scotland. His father left him and his family when he was young, and he was raised by a single mother who was battling alcoholism and addiction. His mother died from alcoholism-related health issues when he was 16. Perhaps, this novel is closer to reality than just a fictional read and the narrative style and tone are an inkling of that. The book is inspired by the actual story of Mr. Stuart's life and that is what makes it such a tragic and heartbreaking read. I believe a writer can write something with such make-believe conviction when the story is closer to home. And to imagine that Douglas Stuart could be the Shuggie Bain in reality, is just painful. Having the courage to write the story of his life as a debut novel and being awarded for it, speaks volumes of the wonderful work done by Douglas Stuart. Hope this makes you consider this book for your next read.

That wild blue flower

 Gentiana scabra, the Japanese gentian. 
Laitlum canyon, Meghalaya in the backdrop.

Oh why don't you see

My unfading love for thee,

vast and deep as the canyon,

and beyond everything

it could be!

I have so much to say,

Yet time is hard to find.

I wonder if it would suffice

with a poem that rhymes.

For I imagined our love will be,

Like the wild blue flower

Blooming unseen in the valley,

Hidden under the bower,

against all odds,

in abundance and glory.

Nevertheless it refused to be,

As uncaring and free as the

Winds and the sea.

And so I leave behind,

some thoughts well-defined,

some feelings unwind,

seeking that peace of mind.

Words said unsaid,

and letting go just fine.

Hoping in another lifetime,

you could be mine!

Counting blessings

Fuchsia thy name

What's fuchsia you ask-

Is it the colour or the flower?

Its none; perhaps its a reminder

of those happy days

when I was just a kid

Playing around in my frilly frocks

Blue, yellow and fuchsia coloured.

Perhaps its that dream

Something I saw in my mind's eye

The one where I painted the town

Fuchsia, in merriment

And danced to the sound of

Ringing bells.

Perhaps it that was song

Playing in my head all day long

Praising the fucshia

The one in my garden

Blooming in its glory.

Or perhaps it is none of these.

Perhaps it was the spur of that moment.

Leaving me with the question-

Why Fuchsia?

(Art by my friend Kunal Sarma. Here's his Instagram username: k_omoreb_i)

A kitten’s wish

(Art by my friend Mrigakhi Bora. Original creation by artist Vimal Chandran)

Why does the human live in a box like house?

Watching the idiot box all day

Only peeping out once or twice

To adjust the antenna signal in the way.

I am a little kitten, I stay outdoors all day

I dream of yummy things

And wish to lick a fishbone clean

Found in the roadside bin.

I wonder if the big fishes of the ocean

Would ever want to fly, like I do

Then I would meet them in the sky 

And twirl gracefully in my rainbow tutu.

For now I could play with the human

Only if it would come out and

Give me some milk and candies,

Sit in the lush green grass 

And watch the clouds dancing to 

The tune of the blowing wind.

Oh what a wonderful day that would be!

Once upon a December evening

 

(Dedicated to my dear friend Dishna Phukan. Here’s the link to her website :https://www.dishnaphukan.com/ )

Bathtub plants

Flora was a crazy lady. Thats what everybody had to say about her. She was a sane, young woman until the disappearance of her husband. Ever since then, she went into a recluse in her home. Her husband, Joseph was thought to have been killed in a plane crash in Japan. But no one knows if he is dead for sure. His body was never found. 

Nobody visited Flora, nor would she open the door to anybody. I was concerned about her, she was my friend. So I used to peep in to have a look at her every now and then. On most days she looked fine to me. Humming to herself as she tended to the plants she had grown in her bathtub. Yes, there was a mini garden in her bathtub. Strange as it may seem, the plants thrived with little sunlight and fresh air from the vent above the window. 

 

One fine day as I was returning from work, I heard a loud wail from her house. I ran towards the window to look. I saw Flora slumped on the floor. She was dressed in red and wore her pearls, looking like a woman on a date. But she looked distressed as she her eyes were fixated on a spot. Thats when my gaze shifted to the bathtub. The plants weren’t alive anymore. The tub was covered with some blue green looking substance; perhaps algae. It smelled foul, I could sense it even outside the house. What exactly was she doing in the bathtub? What was she growing there? Why are the plants dead so suddenly?

 

And then I saw Flora looking at me fiercely. Kohl stained eyes that whispered sinister intentions, teeth clenched, one hand plucking the pearl beads from the necklace. It scared me. I took my bag and ran from there as fast as I could, promising never to peep into her house again.