Nomadic Hymnal

Okay,  It happened two years ago.  After quitting my job and before finding a new one, I headed towards Spiti . With only my backpack for company, what I sought, to be as cliched as possible,  was a life changing experience.  And the plan was to tread the trails which I earlier could not because of the other cliche, little time.  For four days, I cycled and trekked around Kalpa , who rising from her lazy stupor wooed me with all she hid in her bosom, and never revealed until I  decided to forego the insurance of the tarred road. It could as well have been me rising from my stupor, as the hermit in me took over, and decided to move on, beyond Kalpa , towards the fairy tale lands of Kaza , K omik , Kibber , and every place that I yearned to be in, every time I was in Ladhhak , and every time I was in Kalpa . Leaving the tar insurance: Kalpa What? Whistle as you walk: Kalpa Hobbiton? Cheeni Gaon Monastery Hermits don't write travelogues, or ma

Streetlights appear unusually faint through my window; I really should have slept better last night. Wake up! shouts someone from a distance, but I am too exhausted to shout back. My eyes half shut, scattering all light that reaches my pupil, cant perceive which part of the town I am in, a vague sense of time tells me I should be home soon, since I have been traveling for a long time. The lights get dimmer, falling now on nothing else but the road divider, leaving everything else pitch dark. I am breathing too loud, disturbing the state of tranquility I have found, so I mellow down, getting slower, calmer, until I am perturbed no more by the sound. There are too many in the car; they will drive me to school, so I can drowse off for a while. But,  I am getting really late, its already dark, and the seat next to Bela's would already be taken, the school perhaps might be over, why don't they just let me sleep instead? I hope the Maths teacher doesn't come today, else I will

In continuation of: Part 1:  Nomadic Hymnal: Ladhhak: A Godless Pilgrimage Part 2:  Nomadic Hymnal: Leh: Realm of the Indus An hour from Leh, the Magnetic hill stood establishing literally, what in  metaphoric sense Leh has always been—magnetic. With engines off, our motorcycles moved uphill at 45 kmph, defying gravity, surrendering to the rebellious hill in its silent mutiny against the earth's force. Once released from the magnetic field, switching loyalities again, the bikes ran on horse power, occasionally speeding on the surprisingly well-maintained NH1. Simply Magnetic  The Indus, by now huge enough to command the reverence reserved for a goddess, moved parallel to the road, occasionally crossing it beneath feeble bridges in its haste to reach the Arabian Sea. At one such crossing, I collected a handful of silt and a bottle of water from the river as a memento of the journey. Indus: The Farewell Apart from a few rough patches, the road to Kargil, was "e

Continued from " Ladhhak: A Godless Pilgrimage " "First View of the Indus River," said a signboard as we entered Leh, and the river, which gave India its name, moved with skill and poise through an intricate arrangement of brown, green, and white. Meandering through the primordial mountains, the river had once nurtured the fields of the Harappans - the builders of the best planned cities on earth in their times. A witness to the rise and fall of those cities, the Indus glistened in the sun, as if smiling in condescension at the futility of the mankind's attempts to decipher cryptic ancient texts, for of them, she had always known but never revealed.                                            Nurturing Civilizations: The Mighty Indus My hymn to the mighty Indus:                                   Notional beliefs met reason in her course,                                   a reason vagarious as mankind, illusive as its faith,                                

Walking on the air as I was while hurtling past Ambala on my way home, I was already feeling nostalgic about what I had left behind. The ethereal memories of Ladhhak kept me awake, where the not so ethereal skeeters failed during my attempt at a quick nap in Ambala. Before giving up on sleep, I traveled backwards at the speed of thought, trying to backtrack mentally and fool myself into believing that there was more to come.                                                     Leaving the Plains: Chandigarh Ten of us committed attendance, five planned, three prepared and took leave from work, and finally just two of us set out for the road trip I've always wanted to be on. Sourabh rode his Avenger 220, he bought 6 months ago for the sole purpose of accomplishing this wheeled pilgrimage to Leh, and I made my veteran Enfield Bullet 2005 as comfortable as possible with the idea of doing long distances at high altitudes. The hot and humid mid June weather, although sapping, inspired