Within & Without

This is hardly the time to write a post. My feet are killing me, I’m tired as hell and I’m not sure I can think straight but, I guess, in some ways the best time to write is when your defences are down. (As long as this lovely Karma Avoiding Mantra is playing, I guess they’ll stay down anyway.)

For the second day today, I walked the leather off my shoes again. In addition to all the walking I do here anyway, I walked down to St John in the Wilderness yesterday, which is a little over two kilometres down from Mcleodganj (three and a bit, actually, if you count the walk down from my hotel). The church is in a far worse state now than it was when I was here last and, yet, it had enough for me. I loved the place the last time I was here and I loved it this time. There isn’t very much to it, actually, except, for me, where it is set and the simple stone structure, the burial ground around it, the lovely trees and the general sense of calmness it exudes. I may have had some apprehensions while I was walking down to it but I’m so glad I went. It was definitely worth it.

Later, after the usual couple of hours on the terrace at Nick’s Italian Kitchen Restaurant, where I have lunch and do a little of my work, I spent a good part of the evening at the Temple, where some student-monks were engaged in a class and, perhaps, debating a theological point in that very dramatic manner that is unique to them. Unlike my last visit many years ago, however, I did spin the Prayer Wheels this time...on each of the three occasions I went there.

In the afternoon today, I was wandering around rather aimlessly when, without having planned it, I found myself on a long trek that took me beyond the Bhagsu Nag Temple and beyond the waterfall. I didn’t know where I was heading but kept going anyway, on what turned out to be a steep-ish climb that ended in a rather anti-climactic manner, and abruptly, at Shiva Cafe. In itself, the cafe is pretty ordinary but, when seen as a part of the whole climbing experience and the setting, it was pretty good. I would have regretted not going, as I do not going to Triund, which, a local chai-shop fellow told me, is a “piece of heaven”.

As my time here is done, I’m trying to figure out the trip. A friend, who’s been pestering me about it on mail, says “McL suits you” and that I should keep going back because, she says, it's the first time she’s really heard and felt me sounding so relaxed. (The italics are hers.) I guess, it’s true...partly.

Until I was on the bus to McLeodganj, I wasn’t sure I’d even make the trip because I really can’t remember when I last did something only for myself. Sounds strange even as I say it but it’s true. So, just getting here, in itself, was an achievement for me and that I’ve stayed on for about a week is an even bigger one.

As far as the place is concerned, sure, there’re the hills and there’s the peace and quiet and the trekking trails but, I think, McLeodganj is more than just a place. It’s an experience. And, perhaps, that’s the reason why a majority of Indian tourists who come here are only on a day visit. Because, after all, it was no more than a two-street town when I was last here and it isn’t a fair lot more now.

I have no doubt that I’ll be back soon and, hopefully, stay longer. In fact, I’d love to come back at the end of next month but I don’t know if I will. Just like I didn’t want to go alone on the trek to Triund, which is 11 kilometres one way, I don’t want to come here alone at the peak of winter.

Yeah, it’s been good but I also know that you can do what you want and you can go where you will but if you don’t have it in you, you won’t find it anywhere. Equally, if it’s in you, you can’t run from it.

Run

It’s been a long time coming but, finally, here I am in McLeodganj!

I was talking to a pleasant Tibetan chap on the bus last night. He did something of a double take when I told him how many years it’s been since I was here last. But, so much has changed, he said.

Much of the morning was spent in my room, working. But, I did have breakfast on the terrace, which had a lovely view of the valley. There was near perfect silence, except for the occasional whistling of a bird. Oh, of course, there was also the occasional sound of Chance pe dance kar le in the distance.

But, I have since walked around so much that, although it was overcast for most part and fairly cold, I was perspiring through the day. And, my legs are hurting. Yes, much has changed. The place seems dirtier. The roads are far worse now, pitted and furrowed. There’re many more hotels and restaurants. The Dhauladhar range, which wasn’t at its lushest the last time, seems almost completely stripped and bare. The Temple area seemed a little ragged too. And, the lovely St. John in the Wilderness, which was closed when our bus pulled in this morning, looked cold, desolate and uninviting. But, in the end, I’m glad I made the trip.

It wasn’t an easy decision to come here because, although I’m partly here to get away from the distractions that were keeping me from work, and I really do have to finish a lot of work, I’m here just as much to find a new distraction!

Poles Apart

Discovering something about yourself is not nearly as dramatic as one may have imagined this sort of thing to be. What it is, however, is a double-edged sword, liberating on the one hand and overwhelming on the other.

Of the two things that I've only just found out, I must confess, I've been very reluctant to admit the first to myself until now. But, then, it's also something that I can quietly live with and, so, it's alright. I can simply put it down to what is explained away as the second strike in Sonny's take on life and things. The other one, which does seem to explain a lot of things now, however, isn’t something to live quietly with :-)

Although I need to get it all out of my system, I'm not sure I want to talk about either right now. In any case, I’ll talk about the former only over my very dead and unmoving body :-) The latter? I don't feel up to it at the moment but, knowing me, I may just pick up the phone on an impulse tomorrow and talk to someone. But, again, knowing me, I may not. Either way, writing about it is a start, I guess.

I knew I had something in common with VVG!

Wired for It

Having finished almost the entire shooting for a project I'm working on, and for which we've now clocked over 3,500 kilometers by road, we were on our way back to Delhi from Varanasi yesterday. After yet another unexpected and, I daresay, undeserved setback, my cameraman turned to me and, for the second time in two days, said, "Your luck is really bad!" "Yeah," I said and smiled. "No, seriously...I don't believe in all these things but I think you're jinxed," he said sympathetically. I laughed. "Don't laugh," he said. "You should do something about it," he insisted.

On the previous day in Varanasi, however, for a fleeting few moments, I felt what I thought was pure joy. I was at the Dashaswamedh Ghat, shooting the public aarti (a ritualistic prayer) in the evening. If you haven't seen it before, the performance can be quite spectacular and, understandably, hundreds of people had gathered to watch it, among them dozens of foreigners. Like many of them, and to get a vantage point to shoot from, we hired a boat to get a good view of the spectacle. Thirty minutes into the aarti, by when we had already shot quite a lot of it and it was starting to seem repetitive, I sat down to relax and my attention shifted to those who were there to watch. Picking out people and faces from the crowd, I could see that so many of them were deeply engrossed in the proceedings, clapping and singing along. It seemed as though, even if it was briefly, they had, perhaps, made the connection with whatever or whoever it is they repose their faith in. That they must have felt enriched by the experience, I have no doubt. For some strange reason, just looking at their faces and watching them then made me smile and, I think, happy.

Living in the world we live in, I'm now never quite sure of anything, which is why, I guess, I always feel deeply moved even by little acts of kindness and by moments of simple but unquestionable purity.

I had no stake in the rituals or proceedings and, moreover, religion doesn't do anything for me at all. But, just to watch these people derive so much from the experience, it made me feel what I think was a moment of fleeting but pure joy.

Teach Your Children

One of the earliest lessons I learned in life was when I was still in school. In Class 7, we got a new Geography teacher, the very stylish Mrs S. On her first day with us, she said something that I, clearly, haven't forgotten to date.

To a twelve-year-old, the pearls of wisdom that burst forth from her gorgeous mouth were a tad scandalous and, for the same reason, it may not be very appropriate to quote her verbatim here. But, to temper her words with a modicum of reserve, the gist of it was: When you're getting screwed, you might as well enjoy it.

I can't honestly claim to have evolved to the enlightened state where I can fully enjoy it. But, I'm working on it. And, in the meantime, yeah, I am getting screwed :-)