My Experiments with Food-1

I love eating! Well who does not, everyone like to eat tasty food. Still, I do consider myself a foodie as I like to eat different genres of food all the time many a times at the cost of my pocket and at times at the cost of tummy. When I some dish that was alien to me so far, I am tempted beyond nature to sink my teeth in it. Although being a Northie my favorite is of course “Dal Makhani” & “Butter Chicken”. Many a times my food adventures become misadventures. Here I narrate one such incident that made me cry, literally.

One fine morning as I picked the morning newspaper from the doorstep, a leaflet fell through. It was the menu of a newly opened Hyderabadi restaurant in the vicinity of my home. A quick glance through the menu gave me an idea about the rates which were phenomenally reasonable. It only took me a couple of seconds to make up my mind to conquer this place in the afternoon with my fangs.

I reached the place in the middle of the afternoon and my first impression itself was bad. Standing for 5 min with no one to attend to the spices got to my head and I shouted. Seeing an angry customer at hand I was immediately ushered by one of the staff to a table. When I had come to the place I had thought of trying out the “briyani, there. But my foodie instincts insisted on trying something new this time. So I thought of trying something that was truly South Indian and distinct. We all have gad dosa idli, vada the typical south Indian delicacies. So I thought of trying the Andhra thali this time.

Well the order came and it included a big plate filled with rice and then the waiter came and put 1 spoonful of dal, vegetable, chutney and rasam and moved on. I was shocked, did he actually expect me to eat that humongous amount of rice with that much dal. I know southies can have a pound of rice with a cup of dal, but I not me. So I gave the waiter a bad stare and said “what do u expect me to do with this”. Well my experience so far was proving to be bad.

Anyways I started my meal and although not great I was munching through, 5 minutes down and I realized that the food was really spicy/hot. It also refreshed my memory that in Andhra they eat the most chili compared to the rest of India. Wow, how soon had I realized this fact. Still I though as I had paid for this so I might as well finish it, but with each bite it became more and more though. My eyes and my nose both were pouring down gallons of water and I was so embarrassed of my condition that I was keeping my head down so that the other people eating/relishing their food there did not see my pathetic condition.

I asked the waiter to get me a cola or a juice, but I guess it just wasn’t my day as he had none. So I had to be content with the luke warm water that he had kept on my table and risk jaundice. I thought of taking a break and to let the burning of my tongue die down and stated fiddling with my mobile and pretended I was doing something important and that’s why was ignoring my food. But misinterpreting my idleness the waiter thought that I wanted more supplements to finish my rice and poured dal and rasam in my plate.
It really wasn’t my day, with great reluctance I started of again cursing the very moment I had decided to come, cursing the entire clan of people who eat so much chili and finally cursing god for making me suffer. I took a couple of more bites and then decided I had had it, I could not endure this slow torture. So I suddenly got up and proceeded to the cashier leaving my food unfinished. When the cashier saw my face he was horrified, my eyes were bloodshot and watery, my nose was running and I looked like a actor in a opera doing a tragic scene of death and misery. Giving him no time to comment , I threw the money at his counter and dashed out to find the nearest sweet shop to douse the flames ignited in my mouth. The funny thing about this state is it makes you so helpless that you cant even talk.

So, this foodie experience turned out to be a disaster. I really wonder how that guy in “Man Vs Food “ does it, really respect that dude.

EDDFEST

It’s the dream of every metal fan to attend a concert of his/her favourite band once before they die. For us Indians this is a bit hard chiefly because most of the bands that we listen too(not talking about Boyzone,Britney, Beyonce) have ceased to exist or if they are still performing, India is never on their tour map.

So it was with great shock and delight that I received the news from my friend that my favourite band “Iron Maiden” will be performing in Banglore, India. India…were they actually coming here, “holy fuck” was I delighted. Metal freaks throughout the country were agog with the news and every one waited for the “E” day in great anticipation.

Tickets @1500 per head were a bit expensive but something I could afford for Maiden along with the traveling expenses. Leave from work was also not an issue, will simply fake illness, simple. Everything was planed tickets both train and concert were bought now all we could do was wait and wait and wait.

Finally, the day came, I was accompanied on this metal journey by my 2 seniors from college who shared my passion for the band. We boarded the train at night and soon realized we weren’t the only fans on board the train. In fact the train was packed with them. It wasn’t hard to identify people going for the concert, they had 3 distinct features disheveled appearance, long hair and black T shirt of some rock band . Of course there were some working professional like us whose outer features weren’t so distinct but from inside they were equally crazy.

The night in the train was spent chit chatting , pulling each other’s leg, discussing some lingo’s and abuses that we had invented their and then and the usual guys talk. I was experiencing some discomfort in my throat but that did not stop be from shouting at the top of my lungs while gossiping. Morning came and I realized I was developing some sort of throat infection, great I am going to a concert to howl and head bang and I develop problem in my throat. By evening this infection had brought with its cousin the fever.

Being the usual thoughtless dudes we had no medicine with us nor the great railway stations where the train stopped at times had anything to offer in terms of medicine and food both. On top of that their was no pantry in the train, we cursed the guy who had made reservation on this fucking train, we had no food not much water and I was fucking sick….literally sick. The best part isn’t over yet, we thought of informing our friend with whom we were supposed to stay to arrange for some medicines for me, but voila of the 3 phones we had 2 did not have roaming facilities and mine’s battery was dead. I send a desperate SOS to our friend and my phone’s battery breathed its last, unaware is the message will be delivered on not.

We reached bagalore/luru at 11pm and took an auto for our friend’s place. I was visiting this city after almost 12-13 years it did look changed; the city was more crowded the traffic was more fucked up the smell of LPG filled the air.

The autowalla was a true bastard befitting his clan and dropped us at the wrong place, so at midnight and in a tired fucked up state I had to walk about 1km to locate our friend’s place. It was a relief to finally settle in the apartment and to know that my mobile had not failed me, I popped in few medicines and rested while the others drank beer and had pakora’s to my discomfort. Wow, what a trip I had come here to enjoy and had fallen sick like an asshole and while others drank and sang songs I picked up a magazine. I tried joining the party, but when it was evident that my voice could not be heard by anyone despite my full efforts I thought of going to a corner and sulking.

The morning was a little better but I still had a sore throat and slight fever. What disappointed me the most was I would not be able to shout and cheer the band for which I had traveled so many miles. Nevertheless, we thought of spending the time we had at our hands to explore the city. After roaming for some time we thought of checking out some good rock pubs in the city. We finally decided on “Styx” and here we saw many fans who had accompanied us on the train enjoying the music and pounding their legs on the floorboards.

What I am going to tell you next you might not believe but it is the truth. Being I lover of alcohol I did not want to miss my chance of enjoying with my friends by not drinking so I ordered some whiskey for me. Two large down and I was fit, hallelujah I was cured and was singing along with the music from the speakers. Who says booze cant cure problems.
So, a little tipsy and with my voice restored we left the pub for the show with elated hearts.

We reached the concert grounds after once again being cheated by the fucking auto guy. Damn these guys really know how to fool outsiders. Anyways, we gleefully reached the entrance where the bouncers were checking the tickets, I put my hands in my pocket to retrieve and what do we have here no ticket. This was really like a scene in a movie and color drained from my face, I mean now of all the ties I lose the ticket it was with me at the pub. The news was equally shocking for my friends, suddenly I was filled with questions “What will I do now?”, “Should I climb the fence and crash in?”, “Can I still buy a ticket somewhere?”. Occupied in these thoughts I started to retrace my steps , I must have walked about 300 meters when I found shining on the ground my ticket. Man, what are the chances of this you lose a ticket and then find it also amidst a so many people who were walking through the same path. If there was a time I thanked god with my whole heart it was this.

We had to punish our ears by listening to three bands before maiden started performing out of which Steve Harris’s daughter sucked the most and got the maximum boo’s from the crowd which was 20,000 strong. I can’t describe the feeling when Bruce popped up the stage and the band started playing “The Tropper”, I was mad with joy and was shouting and head banging like crazy. Being in the 4’th row from front I could see the band clearly it was once in a life time feel, you have to be a rock fan to understand it.
To describe the show I have no words, it was simply fantabulous a experience worth the pains that we had taken for it. To end this narrative by saying and we all lived happily ever after would not be right as the actual fun starts now. If our journey to Banglore was bad, our journey back was even worse.

We had initially decided that we could spend the night in the “waiting room” at the station as our friend’s apartment was pretty far and we had an early morning train to catch. It was with great difficulty by changing buses and walking like lost souls that we finally reached the station. There was hardly and activity in the platform and it looked like a scene from an old western classic. We located a dingy restaurant near the station where we had our dinner at 12.30 am. We were so tired, exhausted and hungry that no one had a heart to complain about the food.

We reached the station and tried to locate the waiting room, but since “Lady Luck” was smiling(with her fangs out) on us there was no waiting room on the station. We cursed the friend who had made the travel arrangements, no problem we said we will spend the time chit chatting. Easier said than done, in our state we could barely talk for long and soon sleep overpowered us and we slowly started to drift of to sleep and would have been successful in that only if there was a place. The wooden benches on which we were lying so uncomfortable that only a dead body could rest on it. On top of that since it was February so it was cold and we had no sheets to cover ourselves with, smart boys.

By 3am when I could take it no longer I got up and sat on the bench, to my surprise my other 2 friends are snoring to glory and I am awake like a dumb fool. Suddenly a thought struck me, while we were trying to sleep on the benches the train on which we were supposed to travel had come on the same platform where we were sitting as it was supposed to depart from the same one in the morning. An idea came to my mind and I thought why not sleep in the train as it will be warm there. I tried opening the doors of few of the compartments but they were mostly locked, so I finally found open the door to the general compartment which again had wooden seats! I tried sleeping there but thanks to the numerous mosquitoes sleep was something I could not get.

By 4am while I was still twisting and turning I heard the voices of my friends, they too had woken up and were thinking of sleeping in the train.We somehow tracked our bogie and occupied our seats which were reserved by us, finally I thought I could sleep. Even though the seat was covered with a thick layer of dust, it did not matter to me, I could have slept amongst animals at that time. But my joy was short lived as some cleaning staff informed a railway constable and he asked us to vacate the seats as they needed to clean and do some shit with it. Again we were out in the cold staring at each other with puffed up eyes which were burning like coal.

By 5 am when the cleaning staff had done their due, we finally reoccupied our berths for good and the next thing I know is the shouts of a tea vendor by mid day. The others were already up and were planning for breakfast, why planning you ask, well simply because we were on such a wonderful trip that on this train also their was no panty moreover the train was not stopping at many places and wherever it stopped the stations were to small to have something good to eat and the stoppage time was fucking less. Around 2pm when the train stopped at a god forsaken place one of my friends got down, we were expecting some goodies on his return, but what he could muster in that time was , 3 idli’s and 1 packet of parle biscuits which I feed to dogs, wow it really was not our day. We nibbled on whatever we had but the thirst was still an issue. It felt as if we were hiking on some mountains with no supplies but in realty this was a simple train journey. Around 4pm the train once again stopped and this time I along with another friend got down. I located a decent shop and bought a bottle of water, I thought of buying some bananas as it was the only edible thing there, but before I could overcome the language barrier and tell the guy what I want the train started moving, I threw the money and the guy and rushed back with bananas in one hand and bottle in other. The train had already picked up speed and I literally threw myself inside with no free hand to grab the bar for support, half my body dangling outside the train. Phew!, that surely was a close shave. Finally had water after 14hrs.

The rest of the journey wasn’t as eventful but if you think that my miseries ended their, you have another things coming. We reached Pune around 2 and after some haggling convinced an autowalla to take us to our homes, since we lived in different places after dropping my friends the guy dropped me about 300 meters from my apartment. I just couldn’t wait to feel my bed after this gruesome trip, but I had half a dozen howling dogs between me and my bed. I had to wait for about 30 min for the dogs to disperse, during I tried to look for various alternates routes to reach my place but found none. Finally after half a hour I managed to reach my flat and thanked my stars for still being in one piece.

To say on this trip I experienced more than I bargained for would not be an understatement.

Visit to Sabarmati Ashram...

This time when I went back home to Ahmdabad, I chanced to visit “Gandhi Ashram” that is located on the bank of river Sabarmati in A’bad. Hold your horses, before you jump to any conclusion…..No…I repeat No ..i am not a fan of “The father of the nation” nor of his ideology, “Ahimsa” what bull crap. In fact I thank “Mr Godse” for what he did from the bottom of my heart. But being a history buff somehow my feet automatically took me to the said place.

First impression was as I had expected; a serene and quite place with lot of trees providing shade to visitors in this hot Indian summer. I started my visit with a small museum dedicated to the man, displaying his works, old photographs, letters etc.
Then I moved on to the hut where he had stayed , his belongings which were almost non existent, no wonder people in states auction his belongings as they are surely missing from the place where it should have been. We only have our government to thank for this.
Also saw the famous seat, table and charkha that we use to see in doordarshan when we were kids.

It was after visiting the hut that something’s kicked in and some things that I saw that made my mood bitter and have made me share some of my thoughts. I am devil to the core, descendent of devil himself but I have certain ethics, I respect a place that has historical significance, I respect a person who has historical significance in this case the person who is given the status of father of our nation which is a big deal. The youth today might not agree with his beliefs but in the by gone era their were people ready to take a bullet for him and yes whatever ways he might employed he was a freedom fighter , he was a leader, he did play his part in the freedom struggle.

Now if you’re wondering why I am being so vocal about the chap is for the following reason. The sheer disrespect, lack of common sense and vulgarity displayed by my fellow countrymen present in the ashram just pissed me off. For starters people had made this place of such historical significance where pre independence dignitaries from all over the world came to meet Mr Mohandas K. Gandhi, where big decisions in regard to freedom struggle were taken into a “fucking” picnic spot. Excuse me folks, but I do not think this is a place where parents should come with their children to play ball and laugh and be merry. It is not a public park. This place is a part of our history, a symbol of our nation and you are only mocking this symbol by this crude and callow behavior.

I would not have minded had this been a singular incident, but there was more to follow. There was a sitting statue of the Gandhi in the middle of the park and people were getting their pictures clicked along with it. Perfectly fine, no issues but at least don’t pose by sitting on his head which was precisely the case with one kid and his father who had equal amount of brain as his kid was merrily clicking the picture. I mean seriously in Cartman’s words WTF. You don’t sit on someone’s head and in this case not on the head of a person of this magnitude. The bald head may look a tempting place to sit but its not, at least the parents should understand that much.

Just when I thought that this was the end of my horrendous experience, my excessively broad spectrum of vision made me spot two love birds pecking, and I don’t mean birds.
Ok, I am a very open mined guy and this necking is completely expected behavior according to me even in public place but for fuck’s sake spare this place. I am positive that the said couple would not have come here to see the place but to sit in their corner and enjoy their youth. This must be a regular meeting place of many more like them who would be flocking the ashram to have their private corner. Once again I have to say WTF man.

The above disturbing seen actually made me think that do we Indians give a “rat’s ass” about our past. Their were foreigners who had come to see the ashram and were behaving in quite a dignified manner and showed genuine interest in their surroundings but we the “people of India” had once again proved that we don’t care about our heritage. With couples engraving their name on buildings of historical significance. With youths playing football in this tranquil place and urinating in the open the list of our misdoings is endless.

All this makes you think, have we failed as a nation to teach our kids or even adults for that matter to respect all that that belongs to us our past, our culture, our heritage, our history. Why do Indians respect everyone except themselves. We are the folks who make spit on the walls of “Takshila” or”Nalanda” but who will marvel at the sight of “Harvard or Yale”. So the question is do we suffer from inferiority complex and don’t appreciate our own things when the whole world does. Well, I guess so!

A Tale

As he sat in a desolate corner of a suburban bar, licking the dripping froth from him beer mug, the events of the past few days began to unfold in front of him. So much had changed in those couple of days, what he had done would shape the rest of his life, he knew that. Although in the last year of his teen hood he looked mature for his age, something that he was proud of. He wondered if it was necessary to take that man’s life wouldn’t it have been alright just to let him go. But, he argued with himself “the man had tried to impose himself on his girl”, no one messes around with his girl he said aloud and took a large sip from the mug.

He remembered the sweet smile she gave him as he squeezed the trigger, a smile that was almost sadistic in nature. He remembered how she had battered the skull of the man with the pistol’s butt long after he was dead. This had surprised him a lot, but he thought not to think about all this. He didn’t want to remember her like this. He just wanted to remember her as the sweet little innocent girl that he loved so much. It had been just three weeks but he knew she was the girl for him, it was only by chance that he stumbled upon her through his junkie friends. His friends had thrown a party at a farm house and like many others she too was drawn by the thought of free booze and drugs.

At first she had appeared to him as another lost soul, but their was something in her eyes that galvanized him. Soon they started talking, firstly just small talk but eventually he realized that she was much deeper that she appeared , their was something mysterious in her that fascinated him. He was pained to see the puncture marks on her arms, where she had happily injected herself with her poison many a times. As to why it hurt him to see her like that he didn’t know, but it was then and there that he decided that he would be the change in her life.

Slowly she began to be sober more often, she liked his company, it was first time in her life that she had someone dedicated to her. She was aware of the control she had over him and this delighted her. But for him she had become everything her thoughts enveloped his mind day and night. Even in his dreams she was present in some form or other. So he wasn’t surprised at himself when one day he told her “I can do anything for you”. She had laughed then, ruffled his hair and called him cute which made him blush and made her laugh more. But he had meant those words.

So when she came to him that night in a distraught state with her clothes torn at places and her face scratched, he just uttered three words who, when, where. He knew where his father kept his pistol, he was only ten when his father had taught him how to use it.

They waited for the man to leave the restaurant where he was dining, this wait though agonizing had its soothing effect, as he decided against killing the man just a few punches here and their would be enough he thought.

At gun point they had taken the man to an isolated corner of a street where he had begged for her forgiveness, but she had only laughed at this. “Kill him “she had shouted, he tried to reason with her but when she said “kill him, if you love me”, he knew he had to do it.

He could still hear the echo of the gunshot ringing in his ear, as he sat there sipping his beer, the glass was almost empty now. The noise of the gun had drawn an emaciated beggar to the scene but he hadn’t given much thought about this until yesterday when he read the newspaper headlines “Brother of local mafia boss slain”, the picture of the man there appeared vaguely familiar to him. It was then that he fully understood the gravity of the situation, the thick muck in which he was. But he was confident that his identity would not be revealed. He drained whatever was left in the mug in one big gulp and decided to head home. As he stepped outside he was greeted by the midnight chill, he rubbed his palms and started walking. It would take him just 15 minutes to reach home 10 if he took the shortcut. A cold gust made him pull up the collar of his overcoat and he decided to take the shortcut.

As he started walking he soon realized there was another person taking the same route as his, he looked back and saw a man in mid forties smoking a cigarette. It didn’t appear to him then that the man was following him and had been given a contract on him. It was only when he neared his home and the man was still behind him did he suspect that something was wrong. He could have dashed and been safe inside his home, but something in his mind stopped him from doing that, he didn’t want the man to know where he lived. So he ran in another direction away from his home, as he ran the man followed. For his age the man was a good runner and the boy found it very hard to get him off his tracks. The cat and dog chase went on for a while until the boy made a wrong decision, one of the many wrong decisions he had taken recently.

He turned into an alley, a mistake he soon realized when he saw the wall at the other end staring back at him. He turned back to get in the open, to make another attempt, to run further but the assailant was standing at the other end with a smirk on his face, he knew the chase was finally over. Physically the man was much weaker than the boy, but the gleaming colt in his hand gave him the advantage. So this is how it is going to end the boy thought. He had seen such things happening in movies, people dying with an unknown bullet to their name, but you just could not believe that it could happen to you too. It is true he thought, when people say that your whole life flashes past you as your about to die , he could see everything clearly now his childhood, his family, his friends, the stupidities of adolescence, the first smoke, his first kill……. His chain of thoughts was broken by hot metal piercing his heart, the “tut” of the silencer came afterwards. The bullet ripped his heart and got lodged in the rib cage. He fell down with a thud on his knees, this would have hurt normally but the numbness had already crept in. As he lay there like a tree whose stump has just been cut, he smiled as everything became lucid to him the girl, the love and the betrayal.

The shooter was a veteran of many kills, he had seen too many people die, most of them he himself put in an early grave, they mostly shout and shriek when they died. There was eeriness in the silence of this boy, the calmness with which he had accepted his fate seemed quite strange. He took a few steps towards his victim with the sound of his boots reverberating in the alley. They both looked at each other, lot of unanswered questions in the boy’s mind; the man was a professional, this was his job.

The silence was finally broken by the executioner “ok kid its time to die” the first words spoken by either one of them in the past half an hour, the line was one of his favorites, he had picked it up from an old western classic. He placed the revolver on the boy’s temple, the gun coughed again and the boy fell sideways with the smile still there and the eyes wide open.

The man bent down and closed the boy’s eyes , open eyes of a body was one thing he didn’t like , bodies ask too many questions why, what, who……the answers to which he never had.

Kashmir Diaries......

Here is a small(rather big) narrative on my Kashmir travel...

Day 1: On the Road…

We(me & my parents) started early for our destination (Srinagar).. with morning showers greeting us. The drive was smooth owing to the good work done by BRO on the roads. I could see the vegetation changing as we climbed up & up the mountains with Kikar and Deodar trees dominating the landscape. We had our breakfast at Patnitop (no I’ve not made up that name) which is a great hill station about 45 km from udhampur . At an altitude of 7000ft it is the highest town in that region and quite a tourist spot. The place was engulfed in fog and I could even see "light clouds" below in the deep ravines. Rushing waters of Chenab caught with us at Batote which is also a tourist spot... although I didn’t notice much that was worth the trouble.

At Ramban we had our lunch, at 4000ft this place was unexpectedly hot..... as an oven. Incidentally Ramban was followed by Ramsoo, there is a Ramkot 50km south and a Ramnagar and "Rampur"(Cliché right!!) too nearby. Wow…talk about obsession with the Lord Ram. An hour later came the famous “Jawahar Tunnel”(3km in length) near Banihal which is the connecting link between Jammu “and” Kashmir and thus was obviously a high security zone. I’ll be honest with you till this point I wasn’t much impressed by the scenery, I mean there were mountains, gorges, rivers etc. but I have seen this in plenty.

But I had to eat my words as I had my first glimpse of the Kashmir after crossing the tunnel. The mountains gave way to a beautiful valley, with Chinar and Deodar trees everywhere and the men & women working on paddy fields. The place almost looked like a part of great Indian plains except for the high mountains which were visible a bit far away and reminded you that you stood 5000ft above the sea.

As we approached Awantipoora I could see shops littered with cricket bats, there was only one item on display in the shops “Bats” that’s it. But, then this is the place where you get the famous Kashmir willow of which bats are made. It was around 4pm that we reached Srinagar and had my first glimpse of Jhelum river which flows through the city. Dad had made arrangements for accommodation in Badmi Bagh cantt. which was like a highly fortified citadel with gates closing as early as 7.30pm. Another interesting fact that I should mention and which actually took me by surprise was that the whole stretch from Banihal to Srinagar had 2 jawans from CRPF every 100-150 meters, now that’s security!!

We went to see an ancient Shiv Temple which was in the cantt. itself, a bit later in the evening, the temple was rumored to be at least 1100 years old, it was lost for centuries buried under ground and was found recently about 20 years back. Their was a small party at the mess where we were staying after attending it, I straight away went to my bed to catch on a much deserved sleep.

Day2: Srinagar

The second day was spend exploring the city, with my dad in particular being quite excited as he was visiting the city again after a span of 25 years. Firstly we went to “Shankracharya” temple which is about 800 years and is the temple in the song “Jai jai shiv shankar” in which rajesh khanna dances all around the temple . Unfortunately the times had changed and leave alone dancing I wasn’t even allowed to take my camera inside. The temple commanded a spectacular view of the city as it was situated on the top of a hill. Being tourist season the temple was thronged by people and if you were searching for “peace and quiet” that was the last place where you would have found it. You can also see “Hari Parbat” from there which used to be the king’s retreat more than half a century ago. Now the fort just lies there unkempt as “Karan Singh” the now maharaja hardly comes here due to lack of guts.

After taking the lord’s blessing I decided to sink my teeth into some kashmiri delicacies .

I must tell all my non-veggies bro’s that “Wazwan” is a thing to try before you die. It constitutes of various dishes like “Ghostaba”, “Roganjosh”, “Yakhni”etc. and it tasty beyond description. Man as I right this my mouth has already started watering….

After fulfilling our appetite we decided to head for the “Mogul gardens” which comprise of “Nishat & Shalimar” gardens and “Chashm e Shahi”. We started off with Nishat which is just quite near the famous “Dal” lake. I have seen my fair share of gardens and this one was…. how shall I put it ….decent enough. Could see loads of “honeymooners” having some…ahem….private time.

As I descended the stairs to head for our next destination I saw that the locals had found a ingenious way to mint money…”Water Surfing” which was nothing but a “fatta”( flat board” tied to a desi motor boat. As I was in a adventurous mood and my dad in a generous mood so I embarked on this endeavor of mine. I enjoyed the ride, although sadly it lasted for a very ephemeral duration during which my mum’s heart must have skipped many beats.

Shalimar was not much different from Nishat except for the fact that the crowd was a bit scarce there. Chasm e shahi proved out to be nothing but a natural spring, from which Indira Gandhi used to drink water. Well, don’t know about her but it tasted quite normal to me.

Then came the final part the thing for which Srinagar is most famous for “Dal Lake”. The lake is huge but only a small part of it is frequented by tourists. Most of lake is unfortunately covered with weeds which is destroying it, but the govt. is taking steps to save it. The “Shikara” ride reminded me of “Shammi Kapoor” in the movie “Kashmir ki Kali”. Speaking of which let me tell my bro’s(girls can skip this sentence) Kashmiri babes are “AWESOME”. The first expression that left my lips after I saw them was…as Cartman would have said “SHWEET”!!. Honestly their pulchritude( Yo! Oxford) is unparalleled to dames of other places(no offense).

Hmmmmmm…..oh yeah I was talking about the lake, pardon me from getting carried away. There were loads of “House Boats” which had funny English names like “Neil Armstron”, but I must say the wood work on them was worth admiring. The best part is that many locals use shikaras for selling stuff to the tourists boating in the lake like some jewelery etc and trading with each other in the lake itself. 15 min after and 500 rupees lighter we decided to call it a day. On the way back our driver showed us various parts of the city. Srinagar is a decent city with good roads(Better than Pune) and infrastructure, thanks to the constant grants from the central govt. You did feel as you were in Pakistan though as all the signs on the shops had either English or urdu as their language. The language “Kashmiri” that they spoke was a funny one with no resemblance whatsoever with Dogri that was spoken just 50 miles away.

Example: Tumhara naam kya hai? (Hindi)

Kush bush pushu? (Kashmiri)

Ok! Ok! Maybe that’s a bit exaggerated but still just wanted to convey my point.

The city as such looked quite peaceful, except the omnipresent security personals and a couple of bullet ridden buildings being the only reminder of the extent of militancy which had plagued the city.

Day 3: Sonamarg

We began our forward journey somewhere around afternoon after a heavy breakfast. The vehicle that was provided to us was actually an army vehicle which was painted to look like any ordinary Sumo and carried dual number plates(Talk about being under cover!!). This was a normal precaution as we were traveling through militancy infested area. Just 25km outside Srinagar, "Sind" river appeared and kept us company till Sonamarg.

Sonamarg!!, what can I say….. if I say that it is beautiful, than I would not be doing justice to its beauty. I’ve seen pictures of Switzerland and thats the thing with which I can compare Sonamarg. There is so much greenery there… the trees, the valley, glacier, river, flowers, sheep’s grazing on the slopes…..you can only sit in amazement and admire the magnificent work of nature. It was pure, almost divine and I could even say virgin to some extent. Although the wind was cold and almost piercing, but it was fine. The place was picture perfect, a perfect place to camp. This set me wondering if Sonamarg was so beautiful than how would Gulmarg and Pehalgam be which were considered even better than Sonamarg when it came to beauty. I agree its not wrong to say that “Kashmir is heaven on earth”.

Due to shortage of time we couldn’t stay for long there and had to move on towards Baltal which was like a base camp for "amaranth yatra". Baltal was swarming with people some what like a locust invasion, you could only see tents, vehicles and long lines for checking(which we somehow manage to evade) for miles together. Its true religion and faith is a thing that can mobilize Indians instantly. Here was a place far away from civilization and at 9000ft it was quite inhospitable for many, but the sheer multitude of people present there amazed me.

Our accommodation here was a tent as that’s the only abode in this part. But there were all basic amenities in it bed, sleeping bag, light bulbs, portable toilet,water etc etc. After some rest we decided to explore the place, their were many "bhandaras" nearby. These were basically temporary joints opened by volunteers coming from various parts of India providing free food, free medicines and rest to all the pilgrims. The work done by these volunteers was seriously commendable as it wasn’t simple to establish bhandaras from logistic point of view and required considerable effort and money.People involved had taken a sabbatical from there work and business for 2 whole months.

We retired to bed early as had to get up by 4.30am, but god had some other plans for me and I hardly slept the whole night and kept tossing and turning on my bed.

Day 4 : Amarnath Cave

The morning was a bit chilly, thankfully we had ample woolen clothing. I was some what pleased to know that we would be going on “Horses”(Courtesy ASC AT coy) and not the usual Mules or Ponies as were rented by most of the people. But my happiness soon vanished when I realized that unlike their brothers.... horses were not calm or docile..... in fact these words were alien to them. It had been many years since I had sat on a horse and to re experience it a mountainous trek was last thing on my mind. But putting these thoughts aside we began our long journey with the lord’s name on our lips. Let me put this thing clearly across your minds, if comfort is what you seek than this is the last place you should be. The path is treacherous, steep, narrow, uneven, and to top it all crowded. Their were multitude of people both ahead of me and behind me.I later on came to know that about 30,000 went for darshan that day.

As to our pace you can imagine for yourself, it took us 3.5 hrs to cover 13 km stretch and that is when we cut corners wherever it was possible and overtook many owing chiefly to skills of jawans guiding our horses. I am not at all shy to admit I was scared, yes I was.... and even you would have been had you been in my position with a deep gorge on one side and no space on the other and to top it all most of the first 5km was actually a land slide prone zone. Wow! Whenever I looked down or when horse climbed downhill(which is more scary) I could almost see the “Reaper” calling on to me with open arms, inviting me to see his dominions.

Somehow we reached the “Sangam” which is a conflux of 2 rivers one coming from the cave and other from Zozilla pass. I was glad to see that Indians had yet again proved that they were the dirtiest people on the planet. Just seeing the amount of garbage and filth appalled even me and I am one... who had braved tons of litter in my life. C’mon this was supposed to be a pious place.

After the sangam started a very steep climb which was more terrifying than before as the path was just 1-1.5m wide and it was as usual piled with people and animals. Just 5 min through and I heard a noise “Crack”, for those amongst you who are naïve, it was the sound of my butt cracking wide open. For the next 1 hr I was constantly mumbling lord’s name and asking forgiveness for all the sins(which incidentally were many) that I had committed. It was here that I decided if I live to see another day I would certainly pen down my experience. As I write these lines it appears to me that my fear was unnecessarily profound. But what I write is the state in which I was there and then. So after an agonizing hour of pain we finally came in the view of the “Holy Cave”, and the mountainous path had also given place to a frozen glacier, trot on which was “cool” owing totally to the cold wind that was blowing.

Finally we came to another camp where we let go of our horses and carried on the journey on foot. The sight of an endless line which was more than a mile long disheartened me. But by pulling a few strings read “Jugad” we managed an express VIP darshan.

Now let me tell you about the holy cave, firstly howsoever atheist you might be you gotta give credit to the work of nature, I mean at an altitude of 13500 ft in a cave you see a “Shiv Ling” shaped block of ice this is something that brings on the faith in you, there is no ice what soever elsewhere in the cave. Secondly there a story/legend about 2 white pigeons who reside in the cave and I saw them with my own naked eyes, co incidence …..certainly but you should also understand during my entire journey and even here when I gazed at my vast surroundings I could find no trace of any other life form particularly birds. You did feel in peace with yourself here, although the constant pushing by the crowd and the shrilling noise of the choppers(a mode of darshan for the privileged) did remind you that you were still on this god forsaken planet.

After the darshan we immediately decided to descend as the weather can be very treacherous at these heights and we certainly didn’t want to get caught in the rain. It was with great reluctance and trepidation that I mounted on my horse again. If the uphill climb was bad than the downhill was worse. I died from inside every single time the horse used to go “down the lane”, and the worst part was I could not relay my fears to my parents lest I would be called a coward. Anyways with no untoward incident our return progressed with me looking at my watch every 5 min and praying to god to pass the time quickly. You might think I am overstating the facts here, let me than inform you just a day prior to our trek 2 persons died and by the day 5 of the yatra reportedly 17 people had died, most of them due to cardiac arrest. So believe me this was a deadly stretch. We finally reached the base and I heaved a sign of relief. You would think after 8 hrs of traveling on horse back I would have loved to sit and relax, but with my blistered bums and aching hip bone I found that a daunting task.

We headed to a “Bhandara” as pangs of hunger had ignited our tummy's . After having my fill my eyes fell on a foot massager lying nearby and saw that many of the pilgrims were using it, so I thought why not me. With a bit of apprehension I sat on the chair and put my feet on the massager, their was a bhandara volunteer just sitting next to it and without a word he started pressing my feet. This took me by surprise, such unselfish behavior on the part of a human being was in itself inhuman. After that with aching bones we headed towards our tent to rest. This day would go down in my life as a day when died a thousand deaths.

Day 5 : Return of the King

Well most of the last day was spent in the journey back 12 hrs to be precise and Blah! Blah! Blah!

Chalo bhai Khatam kahani……