Welcome 2013

I guess a journey begins way ahead of its manifestation. It's birth is serendipitous .... in a book …. in somebody's conversation. Then again a travelogue is a silent conversation. 'Beyond Sky and Earth' by Jamie Zeppa is a beautifully written personal story of a young Westerner who travels half way around the world to Bhutan as an English teacher. I was reading a second hand copy purchased at Manali bus stand while returning from my first trek in the Himalayas in the Diwali of 2005. Instantly I was in love with the author, her book and Bhutan. A new journey had taken birth. Michael Palin’s Himalaya offered me my first glimpses of Bhutan. U tube fuelled the fire …. Paro airport, Jhomolhari, Tibet, Buddhism, Himalayas. The romance of a distant exotic land predominantly through a Western perspective. Heavily influenced by western thought I was myself straddling between materialism and meaning with an alarming tilt to materialism. It was not difficult to understand this romance.

One day Meghana asked me if I would like to go to Bhutan in May 2012. For a four day trip to Bhutan we had crossed the breadth of India through its cruel summer plains by rail. Bhutan came as a brief pleasant respite. Thanks to Sudhakar sir’ s approach the programme inclined heavily onto  nature. We got the glimpses of a wonderful country. A small trek to Taktsang Palphug Monastery was a part of it. A dramatic location for an extremely popular yet beautifully maintained monastery near Paro. This is the monastery also known as Tigers Nest, which encapsulates my journey to Bhutan. 

Bhutan was definitely a place for grown ups. I couldn’ t help wonder and envy Bhutan' s King who was way ahead of his times to dare take a middle path towards protecting his country’s identity, culture and not make the easy mistake of blindly following materialism and consumerism. Or was it part of a journey that the Buddha showed centuries ago?

Happy New Year

Rajneesh Gore

1 Jan 2013

Happy New Year 2012

It was just post noon and the tropical summer sun was burning everything around. What better time to conduct an heritage identification survey. Me and poor Vivek had made an early start and reached here across the Patalganga to look at Siddheshwar Mandir from the other side (as usual Pallavi’ s idea!). By the time we were near this spot, I just couldn’t continue driving. The vapors from the hot tarmac were drying up my eyes through my shades.

This spot was an oasis! On the banks of the silently flowing Patalganga was this serene spot. An old temple surrounded by big bakul trees.

Hot silent and extremely fragrant.

I saw what had to be seen, made Vivek do all the running around business, taking pictures …. while I rested.

Vivek took this picture of mine and created one more beautiful memory.

Wish you all a very Happy New Year

Rajneesh Gore

Dec 2012

Bakul

 Woke up in the morning and was fetching flowers for the gods and my late grandmother. Green champa, mogra and my current favourite bakul. I guess Meghana introduced me do these flowers …. fragrant, pungent and heady. As I pick up the flowers I remembered me ridiculing Meghana for what she was doing once. Haunched on her feet, duck walking for more than an hour in the shade of a large bakul tree she had painstakingly gathered these freshly fallen tiny white flowers strewn on the ground. Also this tree was a group of trees which we worshipped as a demi gods (yaksha) guarding our property. Close to it was big abandoned well and the place was notorious for large venomous snakes. The overall setting was a bit intimidating nevertheless extremely fragrant.

Not worth the efforts and the risk I had yelled at her for such tiny flowers however fragrant. I lectured her on being quick efficient and stop wasting precious time like this that too in such a place.

Like a good wife listening to her husband, she didn’t.

She collected all of it in a small kerchiff and then folded it loosely to form a small packet. When we came back home she put it in a small earthen pot with a lid along with some freshly picked all spice leaves. Then she forgot about it and so did I. A few days later she remembered her floral cashe and invited me to open it. I had a rough day and mocked at her. She just insisted that I obey. I opened the lid and poked my nose into the pot. The trapped fragrance of the flowers and the spice leaves was so divine it just transported me back to the place under the bakul tree. This was indeed a divine tree. The witch knew what she was doing. The best was the fragrance remained for many more months. It was pot porri our home made version... simple and casual. Unlike the multi coloured artficially stained versions we get at well ness stores and which worked best only in air conditioned rooms. This was a tropical flower and it grew more fragrant as the day grew hotter. 

If I personified bakul it would be a beautiful maiden of the forest .... like Satyavati whose fish stench was turned to a delicious odour after she satisfied the Sage Parashara. Later this same divine fragrance attracted Shantanu and which later in turn formed the opening for The Mahabharata.

What was also appealing apart from its profusion and fragrance was its aesthetics. Its ability to age gracefully. The deep rust coloured hues it picked when it wilted away and merged with the laterite earth. And man it required a lot of concentration to sieve these tiny fresh flowers from the dried ones and the laterite stone gravel. My android savy hands were so trigger happy I realized that I had collected more dry flowers than the freshly fallen white ones. Two hours later I had a hand full of these fragrant flowers. I transferred them to a kerchiff just the way Meghana does. What a pleasure to smell the lingering fragrance on my empty palms as the day went by.