Cricket at 9000 feet

Discarded robes

This shot was probably the most poignant. Young monks out of their robes indulging in sport. This young kid looked at the ball in hand. Robes scatterred at his feet his world suddenly looked his age; more colorful, less austere. I was a passer by. I passed. Leaving the kid with his reverie and robe.

Chitrey landscape

Chorten at Chitrey

Road to Chitrey; of cricket chortens monks

Road to chitrey was a winding dream. Dhoopi pines, Chortens adorned with prayer flags...young monks and ...cricket.

walking silence

tipsy words one vodka two vodka three vodka

moving on from manebhanjang

Night was cold and manebhanjang old. Such are traveller's travails; a place looks old in a day and you feel like moving on. to where is not the question....but there's a queasiness in the gut that el-dorado awaits the one who treads. packed our bags and our landrover moved on as guide on wheels, stopping by every half mile to let us catch up. First turn into the tall dhoopi pine jungle and manebhanjang disappeared. stone cobbled trek was still wet and slippery as monsoon had left not long ago. A few slips and bumps later we decided to take the road. Shiring sherpa greeted us with his perpetual smile.....and his T-shirt with One vodka two vodka three vodka print. Just as I was taking his picture a monk entered my frame......and frame of mind. Banter stopped for silence. Tashi dilay (budhist greetings in this area)....we exchanged greetings and I followed monk's trail with my digital rebel....his appearance and disappearance left the trail in more silence. Camera shutter bug-ged but it had to be done.

Manebhanjang bazaar

Manebhanjang bazaar (market) lined both sides of the main street running through it. Shops were rundown wooden planks painted green over again and again. Attire of young girls, coy smiles on their faces made up for lack of color on street. We went out for a casual stroll with a forewarning by SSB (Sashstra Seema Bal in hindi, Armed border-force deployed all alonh Indo nepal border to prevent cross border illegal trade and traffic) to watch out for Indo Nepal border markers. Here one doesn't know when one steps into Nepal inviting SSB's wrath. We were careful to watch out as warned but kids boys n girls darted across with least bit of bother. We soon ran into a big marker of Nepal border and decided to pose there, without infiltrating of course, standing on the politically correct side!

Of disarming simplicity and defiance

manebhanjang was surely not a visual treat. But simple ways of doing things touched hearts. The way our inn keeper's daughter served food and liquor with folded hands as if we were family; and that did score. the way we were greeted with "khadas"; silk scarves draped around neck. the way a boy was inflating a land rover tyre with a bicycle pump!!! Land rovers are WW-II vintage jeeps, the only vehicles plying from Manebhanjang to Phalut. The only complicated thing was the GL- gorkhaland number plates on land rovers and all other vehicles. These plates underscored a defiant mood in the hills. Gorkha land for others might be a political joke but for these people it was a cause to live for. (won't say die for)

Details of picture

oops!
I put the pic there but forgot to mention details. From right to left: Dhritiman(standing), the poet in the middle, my friend VK singh at Hotel Pradhan, Manebhanjang. They are wearing Khada; a ceremonial silk scarve usually worn around the neck. Mr Pradhan presented Khadas to the entire group as a welcome souvenir.

Singalila;The abode of Khangchendzonga and more

This thread is about my trek to Singalila national park, west bengal, India. The trek is known for views of Mount Khangchendzonga the third highest peak in the world, and mount everest. Both are visible from a place called Sandakphu-see pic "view of things to come". On a clear winter day the entire panorama with Mt everest, khangchendzonga, pandum, kumbhakaran studded on the horizon is breathtaking.
I'll start from NJP (new jal paiguri) the nearest railhead from where we drove down to Manebhanjang, the starting point of trek. And what a trek it was! It was the most well planned trek I've ever done. Everything worked with clockwork precision except rains. At NJP station we were received by Dhritiman; a geat wildlife photographer and a dear friend. On seeing me after three years he quipped"man you've gone old but glamorous." I took that as compliment and had inroductions with rest of team mates who were meeting Dhritiman for the first time. Actualy Dhriti had organised the whole thing through his company "Wandervogel adventures". The package included everything from NJP station onwards till the end of the trip at NJP station after good 11 days. So we were off quickly to the starting point called manebhanjang. We were there at 5 in the evening. Unwound and went out for a stroll in this sleepy village on Indo Nepal border. Nepal side houses didn't have electricity. People have same features as Nepalese. In the evening we had a starter party of sorts where we met an economist & poet! who was visiting the place again after 50 years! alongwith his sons and grandsons. His first visit to this place 50 years ago glistened in his eye as a distant dream. He wrote poetry but not to get published. Not upto the mark yet, he remarked. He spoke good accented english and parted our company after two drinks. No more! and walked away with good balance good gait. Poets afterall know balance and gait!!

Lichens as companions

We were huddled up in the shelter of this rock. Ten of us cramped in two four men tents as this was the only space available. Our rendezvous borasu pass beckoned us but we were to stay put untill early morning next day. There was not a soul around when these yellow spots caught my attention. hardy life! was where I just said there wasn't a soul around. The company of tenacious lichens gave us enough courage to hang on and cross the pass early morning the day after.

The descent from Borasu pass was very steep ending with 2 km walk across Jupkia glacier. Our legs barely supported our weight. And lo! we came across these blossoms right in the middle of glacier moraine. There were many clusters of them. It was poetry in toughest of times written in random verse! We moved on never knowing these flowers too had moved along with us. Moving us. Buyoing us.

sunrise in seraj

Each word said about morning walks in the hills is the truth, whole truth, nothing but the truth. Under a high sun this tree looked like a dirge.
Desolate bereft and dry.
Come morning and it showed spring nestling in its bosom as it filled the valley.
Resurrection is always near.
Hope and withstand.

sunrise in seraj

Waking up early in the morning during stay at Shoja one has to perch oneself at high vantage point to see the morning sun plant first kiss on the lofty peaks of distant dhauladhar range.
Blush on the horizon completes the plot.

Chai garam (hot cup of tea)

Intermittent showers of sunlight were of no help at Jalori pass. Screaming and biting wind threatened to embrittle our frames and shatter like shards of glass.
This man at the dhaba (a road side place for basic food) was a messiah putting God into glass of tea.
But it was so cold
that tea
by the time it filled the glass
was already c(old) !

The play of light

Yes I'm still in Seraj valley of Himachal pradesh. It was a field day for fog. Having to put up with endless gray was not what I had bargained for. Fog was around everything. My camera grew heavier each minute, tripod grew a a leg a minute. But I walked and walked. Fog stalked and stalked.

Patience pays.

Near Jalori pass (altitude 3000 M) fog lifted for an eternity long enough for it to wrap around tree waists and for me to to click.

click

click

Eternity can be a split second register!

"such a long journey"

After their long annual voyage shepherds return home from high pastures to their homes in lower valleys.It was october and gods were preparing to send everything into a wintery abode. These new born lamb kids warmed my heart as they passed by riding mule backs.
Life lives
wherever
whenever

All waters reach home

While trekking in Seraj valley in Himachal our trail ran into a dead end. A shephrd dog accompanying us from Shoja went surveying under tall undergrowth and returned. As if declaring " it's the end of the road buddies :(
We looked around and decided to follow this song.
Soon we reached a place where we saw a pile of firewood neatly tied with a rope. Ah! human presence. We all sat down a had our packed lunch listening to nature's concert. As a thanks giving gesture I took a long exposure of this stream to make the moment more vivid.

All waters reach home.

Forestisawoman

On way to village Sejwar through a jungle
I heard a rustle (or a jingle!)
I trained first my ears
then my camera
as these women silently brushed by
their movement got recorded as spirit of the jungle

Forestisawomanisaid!

Transformation

Transformation

This citying of landscape
This stunting of trees
These hovels of dens
These pygmied men

This convent of indulgence
This dark habit
These spires of intrigue

This love become date
Slapping bodies fornicate
This bonsai passion
This herculean fashion

This robbing..
Trees of girth
Eyes of mirth
Forest of flame

How do I say;
love’s in the air
and I love you dame.

Flowers

Flowers on page cropped
sharpened
hue deepened
furl frozen, framed
all
samed.
Flowers in real grow
sway
unfurl
emanate & age
edges fray, colors wither, bouquets fly
and die.
Exageration is apology
for dimension lost
and age
dimension's wage

Sun birds

Tiny sunbirds
in beak sqeak wing awkward, topple
over flower's levity
nectar smiles

Tiny sunbirds prick silence
fountains of sound
pour

Tiny sunbirds
in flights unmetered
streak the sky
with suns alight

Tiny birds
amidst rumour of paradise lost, Sun

Tiny suns bird

Tsunami

Come Tsunami...like a tear
it's arrival foretold
by quiver of lip I feel, Come

like a swollen river, easing
over the banks depositing
richness I live, Come

like a torrent, a crescendo preluded
by loom of clouds I see, Come

like a typhoon, a tornado galloping,
a thousand 'saurs beneath my ground I hear, Come

Come Tsunami bigger
than your richters meters miles
but show your face
gimme hunger horror death, come

like a bandit brandishing, look
straight and rob
straight, Don't come

surreptitious
like torpedo
snaking through water, Don't come

as capital which comes a christ
and departs a cross, Come

Come in any which way
gimme hunger horror death
but show your face, Come

like water.

birds fly at night

Birds fly at night, blindfolded
wings gently row, darkness
has no perch then or now

sacred trees now scared
fabled wind scarred

peace is dove-corpse
gift wrapped, dream sandstorm
eden charred.

Birds fly at night
blindfolded....