Happy Holi to colour our lives, our dreams and to colour each other with hopes and joys! 

This year I sent sms to all my friends and family saying Happy Holi. And I wished the rest over phone. I usually don’t send such wishes. I usually don’t even call people. But lately life has taught me to keep in touch with friends and relatives. Its not enough to simply feel connected to other person, it is important to show it as well! 

Of course there is usually a set of people in your life who would love you even if you go and murder someone. I am not refering to them. I am talking to about those with whom you can spend your weekend once in a while or pass time with. You don’t appreciate how important they are for you. I have learnt in Mumbai local trains people have made friends to chat with while commuting and who have remained friends forever. There are too many faces of friendship to quantify or to attach a label to them. The idea is to keep the relationship alive by just a hello or a wish. And I am glad I m doing it now!

This time I didn’t make any new year resolutions or celebrations. But circumstances pushed me to dream harder. To make bigger plans. I don’t see much gay or fun in recent present so making long term plans. Less than five years are left before I turn 30, and there are few things I wanna do/have before the end of the golden years of youth!

- Make out at the top of a mountain, outside in rain and on a beach

- Have a honeymoon in Kashmir, and one in Austria; before that:

- Get Married

- Cook a proper 4 course delicious sumptous authentic Italian dinner 

- Get at least one article (or in worst case: a letter) published in good newspaper (not TOI, HT)

- Paint a wall of my house with graffiti; before that:

- Have a home where I live for at least 2 years at a stretch

- Be able to swim 1 km without stopping for breath or rest.

- Laugh as much as I laughed in last 25 years. Which means everyday I would have to laugh five times more. (sounds cheesy I know!)

- Get into a settled career path (for next 20-25 yrs)

- Own a beautiful evening gown. Wear it at least once.

- Own at least 4 comfortable beautiful pieces of footwear to go with my entire wardrobe.

- Go to some place new with my parents for a family vacation.

- Go on at least 5 one week long treks. One in each year. Hopefully one in Alpine ranges.

Thats all. While writing I couldn’t help thinking of Bucket List (or Dasvidaniya for hindi people). I guess I can’t help living life at the rim. But listing out all these tasks did fill me with lot of enthusiasm which is lacking in life these days.

Be it top IMDB movie rating, Booker Prize for Literary Achievements, or Nobel prize for various disciplines, they all mean the same thing to me. More masala for timepass and information. I watched The Dark Knight after reading its 9.1 and was amazed by the movie. Its diffcult to express how fascinated I was by the movie. I have definitely not watched a better movie on the big screen before.

I read Kiran Desai/Arundhati Roy/Jhumpa Lahiri, bought a Naipaul, plan buying Istanbul by Pamuk – all after the the news of awards/prizes they won.

Now, I am reading all the articles of Paul Krugman one by one patiently trying to make sense of them, coz after all he won the Nobel for economics!

Wish someday I would be able to distinguish for myself the top shots and won’t have to wait in newspapers to find them out!

I have many friends, thanks to the non-tech education I got myself into, who feel very strongly about gender discrimination. These are all girls. As a matter of fact, the male-female ratio in education sector is reverse of the same in the tech sector. These friends of mine are highly gender sensitive and protest at the slightest of provocation caused by unequal treatment based on gender. Simplest example would be: if their moms tell them to come back home at a certain time or not wear clothes which attract attention (leading to further troubles) as they travel in public transport – DTC buses or to behave in a certain fashion outside the world, they revert back. They ask their moms why their brothers are not given a similar sermon. On how to behave with girls, on how not to stare (etc), on how to behave in a certain fashion outside the world. A simple explanation to the query which occurs to me is a scene from college days when I was traveling in a vikram in Kanpur. I was being stared at, in a very humiliating fashion. I responded. Asked the guy to stop staring. It didn’t help! It was a little late in the evening, dark outside. I was alone. I don’t even remember why I was alone in late evening; there were very few such instances when I would step outside the campus alone, if at all. I got a little scared. Often once you speak up, the person stops staring. He also gets scared. But this guy was drunk. Now when I think of it, I wonder why I didn’t understand then that asking a drunk guy to do something sensible was impossible. Anyways, he stared at me the entire journey. Which was like 7-10 minutes long only. Now, to answer my friend, can her mother also lecture this drunken middle aged man on how to behave with girls? Isn’t the onus on the girl to save herself in case of a coming catastrophe. But this wouldn’t answer her completely. She was asking why her brother, and not the stranger, is also not lectured about dos/donts. Are there no rules for boys to follow?

Yesterday while traveling on one of the main roads in Delhi, where traffic moves at a high speed of 60-70kmph, I saw something which made me question too. We were in the area where there is a temple at a slight elevation just on the one side of the road. In the current festival season I could see line of devotees outside the templer. Just as we were crossing the temple, I saw a girl being held by the arm and moved to the safer side of the road and the man (his brother or husband) coming to the other side on which the traffic was flowing. There is no pedestal there for the people to move and the traffic is very fast. When I saw that gesture, the man coming to the traffic side while the woman being moved to the safer side, I wondered why is it that I have never seen vice-versa. Will a woman, even the one with strong feelings about gender equality, ever offer to take the riskier side? Isn’t the same woman who harps about all equality and fairness also used to taking for granted the “gentleman-ness” of man – which includes small things like running around to get popcorn in movie hall and big gestures like giving up the chance to be saved first – “Women and children first”. Whats the fairness in that? And do we accept these as cases of discrimination?

Ok, I got to admit the place sucks! Oops… let me re-phrase. The place sucks for everyone who is not a photographer. Still few eyebrows raised? mmmm.. I would re-re-phrase. The place sucks for those who are not photographers and who make the terrible mistake of hiring a guide. Guided tour is what everyone tells you to go for when in Hampi. ‘Everyone’ is generally comprised of that group of people who haven’t been there but have “heard” a lot about it. The guide takes you around the place, tells you something boring and mostly fake about the pretty stony statues and structures, strips you from any pleasure you could have got from the little aesthetic sense you have, and worst of all – you feel like being stuck in a history excursion from school.

Fortunately, we were a smart group. Apart from the smartest kid in our gang, who was busy taking notes from the guide’s fake gyan, we all were convinced that we need to end the educational tour. Hence: Exit Guide. Enter Beer. …. Enter fun! Enter running after firangi n desi babes (not fun)… and the best part: Enter Mango Tree! If you went to Hampi without visitng Mango Tree, you have literally wasted your entire time and money. Whats so good about MT? First of all the name: its exotic! Then, the awesome ambience, … you must have guessed that it is a restaurant. A restaurant built in the design of terrace farms. There are steps on the side of a hill on which tables are laid overlooking the river and the entire landscape from east to west. Though I didn’t like the food much, paneer pakoras and Chocolate milkshake were superb. Combo of MT and DumbC is addictive. I still miss resting on the hillside with an amazing view in front n non-stop playing dumb charades.

The first day got over in a flash and we were back to the hotel to take showers n relax. I had to leave in the morning next day to catch a train from bangalore next day. Half an hour before the departure of the night bus to bangalore we found out that the bus scheduled in morning are like those horrible state buses in which spending 8 hours would be the biggest torture. So we rushed to the bus depot, got a seat for me, and I was all set to go. The smartest kid (same one) came up with an idea that I can cancel my train and instead take a flight with pooling the same amount that I was spending in train and the rich kids from Citi and Pune funding the rest. The smart idea caught everyone’s attention. But my ego couldn’t say yes.

For Rescue came an idea from Sholay! Yups! The Brilliant educational film. The movie buff amongst us came up with the idea of tossing a coin to decide whether I stay or go. Everyone agreed. Coin was spinned. And I was to stay. For few moments, I thought those crazy chaps were just kidding me. But they were all serious! I still smile when I think of that moment. I stayed. And every minute of the entire trip was totally worth it. I m so glad that I m lucky with coins. Else I would have not forgiven myself for ditching the trip in middle.

Next day was even more fun, with trek to the highest point in hampi, more of dumbC, trying stupid maneuvers in swimming pool of the hotel, and then an adventurous journey to Badami. To reach Badami we boarded a bus to reach some tongue-twister named town from where we were to take another bus to Hampi. By the time we reached the mid-way town, it was too late (9 at night) for buses and too late to get food and to late to hunt for rest place. Coz, we were in country side, and people there still follow the folk-sayings (early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy wealthy and wise)! So, we were all standing on the roadside, tired and bewildered. The photographers amongst us, who just loved Hampi, were trying their best not to get hit by us by going around and asking for help. Luckily, we got a taxi to drop us to Badami, which we reach at 12 in the night. We got lucky again and got decent rooms, but most importantly we got food!

I hadn’t slept (really) from 3 nights (not 2 ) so when I was told about 5 o’clock morning trip to some junk temples built some billions years ago by some other boring people, I was too tired to respond. So half of the cool gang didn’t go to that another boring place, and the rest half of smart people went. I remember the name of that place though – it was Peddiakkal (dunno if I spelled it right). I was told later that there were erotic sculptures in those temples, which made me repent a little for not going… but what the heck, nothing compares to Khajaraho.

At humanly hour, on the third day, we went to see caves and temple in Badami which were quite good. More of monkeying around and DumbC happened. After all that, we were too tired and too happy to think or act clearly. Yet, we managed to play cards till 11:30 at night in the train while coming back to Bangalore.

BTW, I didn’t mention above, but the two gultis in the trip also extended their trip from 2 to 3 days. After that the guy from Pune also extended his trip for few hours by canceling his train ticket and taking a late houred bus. So the lesson learnt is: Impulsive trips are the bestest and don’t hesitate to cancel and re-book your tickets. Its worth all the fun and masti you get in return. Second lesson: Doesn’t matter where you go, as long as the people with you are travel-freaks like yourself.

This post is being written mostly to help me frame some questions which are floating in my head in an unorganized fashion. So if you don’t understand even a word of it, please don’t mind.

Basically I am in that phase in life where “information”, for me, is knowledge and beyond. I am a sucker of info these days. I need to know what all is happening in the country (discounting north-eastern states, my apologies) in the field of elementary and secondary education and human resource development in general. For instance, I want to have a micro picture of what goes on inside a govt school in a remote village, in the different govt offices at cluster and block headquarters, at the district level, at the state level ministry and finally the MHRD at center and its other aiding bodies. Similarly, when I hear about the call centers working in remotest places possible in the country and praise about them, my antennas are activated.

Education is such a business which unfortunately can’t work independently in a way like Health does. I mean you can definitely say that an epidemic is bad coz it kills people. Good/bad is not so clear and distinct in the field of education. In Gujurat, good education is what gives one knowledge to run business. In Bihar, good education is what gets you into IAS. I m grossly generalizing here. But you get the point. More or less, from upper lower income to upper middle income groups, good education is the one which gets you a good job. Good job, in extension, generally means the one which allows you to have a good lifestyle. Ofcourse, good lifestyle is a personal call but these days we are finding it to be restricted to a certain kind of lifestyle more and more.

The picture I paint above is the factual reality. Now comes the dream I live in.

See, I was the youngest in my family. So perhaps as a kid I formed some notions in my head and people didn’t correct them thinking the notions to be just temporary. As a child, when I used to find my dad to be so tensed and kinda frustrated with his job as a bank manager I would feel very bad. One fateful day I sworn to myself that I wouldn’t do a job which I hate. I told myself that I would do something that everyday in the morning I would be excited to plunge myself into. Now, I was fortunate enough to be given every sort of help and facilities to fulfill my dream. Then, my dream became to help everyone,  who has a similar dream, achieve it. Again getting lucky, by the turn of events, I got into the field of education which is directly related to my old dream. I also found myself to be not alone. There were many like me, and many who were full time employed achieving it! Wow, I told myself.

Then I started to look around more. I found that these people like me were like a drop in the ocean. Because in factual reality education is more closely related to a culture than with individual aims and aspirations. Ofcourse, the latter are also influenced and shaped by the culture to an extent, but a lot of it also comes naturally to a person. For instance, I know many people who like curriculum development research work. They are damn creative and interesting people. They love to play with concepts in their subject field. There are other kind of people who implement the curriculum developed by the first kind in schools. These people are better at spreading and refining the research work, which needs different skill sets. Now if say, the culture regarded the first kind to be better, say in terms of, intellect or money or any other means, we might see more people going for it than for the second kind of work. Ultimately, if this gap between a person’s interest/ability/natural liking towards something and the kind of work s/he ends up coz of the cultural control over his/her decision making process, if this gap could be reduced by education then I would say to some extent we have achieved our purpose.

Now I started writing this blog because “development” is a word that puts me to unease. In education sector, a lot of work/reports/researches get passed in the name of development. Many, in fact most, NGOs or non-profit organizations get funding and lots of credit (which gets them more funding) on doing work which works in hand with what I called above as factual reality. Like BPOs running in remote villages, internet kiosks for rural development, schools running in under-developed regions on traditional models but producing good results in comparison to dysfunctional govt schools, village tourism and so on. I am in favor of any kind of work which helps people in any way, so I am not against any of these interventions I stated. What I am disappointed about is the path which is followed, everywhere, for development. I mean do we have to go through the same old way of first creating short term solutions which result in more chaos and wrong and then when we have reached an apex of chaos, order will automatically follow. Education is definitely meaningless if it doesn’t equip a person to earn his living and lead a life he wishes for. But then if education stifles his ability to dream and decision for himself in the process, what is left for achieving anyways?!

Technically Mr Negi wasn’t our guide. As in, he didn’t take us up the narrow path on to a trek. But he guided us to whatever hiking/treking we did in Narkanda. He works with the government mountaineering and sports cell in Narkanda which is a branch of the Manali headquarters. It was due to his valuable suggestions that we could enjoy the beauty of a small town.

To thank him we invited him for evening tea and general bulla. It turned out that the guide was actually an instructor. He takes skiing courses for the military trainees. And on top of that, he was no ordinary instructor. He believes in, what educationists call, integrated learning. He was telling us how he doesn’t generally like people from plains. Coz that lot is either typical tourist type, who make noise and are involved in all sorts of rowdy acts. Or the tough people who only want to stick to learning the sport and find it macho. When he teaches skiing he likes to take lessons on everything related to skiing. That means he would talk about formation of snow, difference between snow and ice, about mountaineous flora, different types of rocks, formation of rock types, environmental issues, and our mental attitude in harsh climate regions and sports. He stressed that it doesn’t just require lot of strength and will to survive in such climate or master adventurous sports, but also compassion for and bonding with people. In a nutshell, he quite simply combined science, botony, geography, environmental sciences and moral behavior with outdoor sports and activity!

Isn’t it weird how huge corporates get money and fame on such ideas, elite schools get popular in the name of progessive education, so many people have debated on integrated learning teachniques, while a simple man from hills finds it quite natural to think like that? Meeting such people is the best thing about traveling. Traveling to less known places.

FYI: Mr Negi can be contacted at 09418050816.

Off topic one-liner: Staying away from home, in the middle of nowhere, is turning out to be v good for my blog!

As per my speculation for future decades of my life, formed by looking at sample data from many-many lives around me (i have huge extended family with 12 uncles n aunts and I am the youngest in my generation at my mother’s side), I believe the best time to invest on books and music is either in or before twenties or in fifties (in case you take an early retirement). During college days like a true 6 pointer I would snatch any free minute and devote it either to day dreaming or to sweetest (in)activity of sleeping.  But once they were over, sleep also became a scarce commodity. Especially on weekday nights. After listening to plenty of Dev Anand in Guide – din dhal jaaye, raat na aaya; paying telephone bills which were equivalent to my house rent; I finally picked up Enid Blyton’s bed time stories.

One thing led to another and now I can’t go to bed without a book in my hand. If it is a beautiful piece something like Amitav Ghosh’s The Glass Palace, then it doesn’t last too many nights because I carry it forward to the day as well. The best bets are what are called timepass books. Like:

- Mediocre But Arrogant (Abhijit Bhaduri)

- State of Fear (Michael Crichton)

- Jeffery Archer (The fourth estate, A Twist in a Tail, Not a Penny Less Not a Penny More)

- Khaled Hosseini (The Kite Runner, A thousand Splendid Suns)

- Riot (Shashi Tharoor)

to name a few. These books are not so gripping that you can’t wait for another day to pass before you pick them again. They don’t leave with you introspective questions, like Mistry does. Neither do they give any such information, like Ghosh does, which would prompt you to jump out of bed to start you comp for googling and wikipedia-ing. They are perfect adult versions of Blyton’s and other classic children writings. Good guys Vs Bad guys. Happy endings. Or at least manageable well-defined endings. Unlike the twins meeting again after so and so years of separation as in The God of Small Things, which leaves you so unsatisfied (read depressed) that you need to find something delicious in kitchen to make up for it.

Until now this was the only impression I carried about these kinds of books. Also include Sidney Sheldon and any thriller/mystery novel in the above list. All are timepass books, not great pieces of literature. What I recently realized was, these books make pretty good source of information (which could be either correct or incorrect). In the least, they do manage to give a whole other perspective which was so far missing from your life. For instance, State of Fear (SoF) talks about corruption/politics/fraud in the major environmental agencies which claim to be sensitive towards nature. In the Fourth Estate by Archer one gets a small preview on the fight between newspaper giants and how it has permanent effects on the print media. I was reminded of TOI and HT fights and how the supplements just started coming when we were in middle school which now seem indispensable – even Indian Express has 3-4 supplements coming these days! Hosseini gives a picture and history of Afghanistan, which I take with a pint of salt, as it is coming from an American. But nonetheless, it is anytime better than those magazines articles on Baghdad (who knows the difference between Baghdad and Kabul anyways – they all are Muslims, themselves fundamentalists or under the capture of fundamentalists!), at least it is enjoyable!

In fact, writing a good story book and passing information through it seems to be a very good idea. Also it is a very difficult one. After writing so many assignments, I still dread writing an article on Caste (which I started writing today before changing to a less disputed topic). Because every time I start on it, I only end up reading more about it! Someday I am hoping, I would escape from procrastination and start writing on Caste.  Till then, I am glad to have found this new respect for the authors of timepass books! Also it is because of them that I am not yet insomniac!

Yesterday, I was finally able to take my folks to an acclaimed play, “Class of ‘84“, staged at IHC, enacted by all small n big screen celebrities. During most of the play and in interval I was only trying to figure out where I have seen those people before, obviously except Rajit Kapoor who was simply awesome. Only later at night, did I realize that one guy among them played the dead son of Hazaar Chaurasi ki Maa!

The play was about college friends meeting as a group after 17 years after one of their friend’s dies. They seemed to be fighting a lot on stage, which was the only difference I could find between this plot and the plot of TV series Friends. In F.R.I.E.N.D.S the characters usually don’t have unresolved conflicts or tensions, because they see each other everyday, never left anything unsaid or in middle. Each season (a combination of some serials with one issue) ended in its own style without any continuation with the next season.

In my college days, watching Friends on comp was an event in itself. Girls would gather in one room (which ever one had the series on) and laugh and eat some canteen snacks out of each others’ plates. It was not just a TV show, it was trend settler. It was like an adult’s fairy tale – where times never change, friendships never end, there is a group of people who knew your deepest secrets and most importantly who loved you for who you are. The play also ended at the same note, when old buddies shared their secrets, only to be accepted, forgiven and loved. When friendships help you understand yourself better.

When I m brooding over things, I honestly wonder why fairy tales are written and made when they are never supposed to come true. It is an impossible setting in which people don’t change. For instance, I visited my closest friend from school days over the weekend. It was only her with whom I could maintain the closeness and understanding during and after the dynamic years of college. It seemed within our entire gang of school friends, only we two managed to become bitches (that is the apt description, believe me). Our value systems had changed in same direction, we two were the only ones who wanted to try every single thing in the world. Our adolescence, which Indian kids don’t have a chance to experience, was coming late in life. The definitions and limitations of right and wrong no longer mattered to us. We were to make our own values and rights and wrongs. And then like a blow of a canon (am reading abridged R L Stevenson lately) – boom! The girl was married off. Of course, we all know, nothing remains same after that.

I have only visited her twice, including the most recent visit, after her marriage. Both the times I had to go to sasuraal, her new home. Now I find it quite odd there, mostly because she doesn’t like it there, and so it doesn’t feel like her home. I mean at all of my friends’ places I chat a lot with uncles n aunties, siblings. I was especially close to her family because I have spent many nights there over these years. Now it seems so unreal, in the new setting where she is not even called by her old name. Her in-laws have even given her a new name! But it is not just about the new place. We two have changed so much that it is difficult to find things to talk about. I am still in the college mode of trying everything and she is in a completely opposite situation. She has nothing to look forward to for herself, nothing to get involved into aside day to day household chores. And she sounds so lost and bored all the time. In our first meeting, I tried to motivate her to get herself enrolled in some course whichever she likes and gave such other nonsensical ideas. But in this second meeting held 2-3 days back I couldn’t do that either. Because she is a full time mom now. She talks proudly about her daughter and one can see how much she adores the little thing. It is as if her whole world revolves around her baby. It is no wonder that she does a great job as a mom.

What is a wonder is that I couldn’t share her excitement well enough. I felt quite ashamed of myself because when we were kids we used to joke about being moms n aunts to each others’ kids. When one was into some forbidden prank, the other one’s eyes automatically said – i m gonna tell this to … your kids (obv not parents!). Yet now when the little princess was in my arms, I could feel no different than holding someone else’s baby. I played with her, talked to her, but it was still not something very special – it was just like years back when I held my baby nephew. My friend’s life is now defined by her baby, and mine by so many other things which keep on changing. I had a million things which I do or plan to do to tell her, but I didn’t. Because as soon as I start telling her, I feel her pain in listening to my freedom while she is severely prisoned in a marriage she didn’t even want. She still talks about the jobs she had, which she could never do. But this time I couldn’t even share her sorrow, the impatient me wanted the misery to end. That is how we are like – the cynical ones. When I start to show my fears about failure in something I would step into, my friends simply brush it aside saying – bullshit, you gotta try! That is exactly how I reacted to my friend’s cribbing first – do something. Don’t let you marriage ruin you. But it is easier said than done especially when you are stuck in an environment where you father in law is a drunkard, your husband a lesser one, your entire khandaan into business etc etc, and you a daughter-in-law not expected to work outside and only do what your mother-in-law expects you to. At that time, all the feminists in the world fail. The sociology books sound like a farce and I look upto my mother to give me answers. I advice my friend to find a balance, to create a smaller world for herself and her interests and manage her life in best possible way.

I felt very depressed when I came back from her house. Both of us had realized how different our lives are, how difficult it is to find common topics to talk about, how even our value systems have started drifting apart again. My life is nomadic to her, who is trying her best to settle and be happy in her new situation.

Really, why do people make fairy tales and why do people watch them?!

(Finally found the courage to write this down. Below is the travelogue of my stay in Naggar, a little town near Manali in Himachal, with a family which was running a local NGO – Ananda Society.)

It was the most difficult journey I have underwent so far, including the 10 hrs long treacherous trek to Hemkund Lokpal (4500mts above sea level). The memories of that one day of trek stay lightly with me and I look back at it without much feeling. But memories of those 10 days in Naggar stay close to my heart, strongly as ever. The experience which changed I way I perceive myself, it was like the feeling which you get when you first step in the pool. It’s a strange environment, you don’t know how to swim so you hold on to the railing tightly, and even though the water has a cooling effect, it’s the fear which takes hold of you.

Why did I go to Naggar?
I wanted to go to the hills and live there. A simple and sweet reason. Was it good enough? I didn’t know, so I had a backup reason. You need reasons to justify your actions to yourself – all the time! I was visiting a local NGO which was working in the area of cultivation and protection of medicinal plants and such endangered species. As a part of their programme, in exchange of manual labor which they require at their nurseries they used to run free computer and English classes for the local adolescents. Some of their kids have got placed in past 2-3 years. I was to teach English and help them design computer training classes during the time I was there.

How safe was it to venture into something like that?
I had read all about them on the internet and knew it was a recognized NGO. But, it was more or less a judgment call which I had to make about the risk I was about to take. There was not too much of risk, considering Naggar is a tourist place and I could always get a room in any hotel and take the next day bus if things go wrong. That was the solution to the worst case scenario. I usually don’t bother to work up alternatives to bad case scenarios.

The broken road winding upwards.
You need to be a very skilled driver to be able to take your jeep (car wont go) above the Naggar castle towards the Krishna Temple. It is not so famous among the many temples of Himachal that you would find it listed on internet, but while I was there, a Japanese guy did show up at the temple once. He was a graduate student from JNU, fluent in Hindi. Infact, he spoke better Hindi than me (which wouldn’t be a surprise to many I admit). He told us that he is doing his PhD in Hindi something. He was visiting the temples of HP as a part of his research, as a result his presence at the Krishna temple.

When I reached the temple, I was a little tired from the 15hrs bus journey and quite overwhelmed by the fact that I was actually there. Pappu (Neeraj), MD of NGO, had waited an hour at Patlikul bus stop for me. I was quite grateful to him for coming to pick me up. On our way to temple, he hinted me that I should not expect to be given some work right away. This put me to some unease as I am not a very social person. It is easier for me to find friends and comfort through a medium than none. Work was supposed to be just that medium. Now I would be put to a very difficult test. And an ordeal it did turn out to be.

Manju, the chirpy girl.

The youngest in the family, the most talkative one, a rebel at heart. The ngo (Ananda) was started by Neeraj and a British friend who like many other Europeans had decided to settle in Manali. Through the years they had fallen apart and ran two different NGOs. Ananda now mostly had family members, a few relatives and few headmen of the village as its trustees. Another Britisher, John, was also in the process of becoming a trustee who was the financial head of the trust and who was about to donate his entire life savings into it. He lived in the premises close to the temple which were used as guest rooms and often occupied by the family itself. He was very close to everyone in the family. One could safely say Ananda was more or less a family occupation. Of course, apart from being Brahmins and Pujaris of Krishna Temple, which meant no social function/ceremony in the neighboring region would be complete without them. They were required at every birth, marriage, death ceremonies anywhere within 4-5miles of radius.

I was to live in the room next to John’s and eat in the temple with everyone. The first question which was inquired by Pappu’s father, Pujari, was about my caste. At first I was a little taken back to get such a direct question, but later realized it was only to guarantee a legitimate entry anywhere within the temple and in the kitchen. It was Manju’s job to make me feel at home. She was the unacknowledged PR manager. We hit off quite well though of course everyone in the family including Manju had a difficult time placing me – I was neither a true guest being an Indian, nor a close friend. The only guests which these people have are foreigners who come to spend summers in Himalayas staying cheap in return of volunteer work. The foreigners have to face and respect certain customs – which include ‘weird’ untouchability practices. They can’t enter kitchen, or touch the cooked food, or enter the main temple area. These practices were implied on John as well, who would usually bring the raw vegetables from the town below for the dinner! What an irony!

A different world
The untouchable practices were very much alive in other aspects also. The lady during menstrual days was to stay in a room (like a storeroom), couldn’t enter temple, couldn’t touch anybody, couldn’t touch food and so on. The low castes were not allowed inside the temple, though after the morning puja they were given the prashaad like everyone else. Ofcourse, the pujari was careful enough not to touch them while giving them the prashaad. The life was what Gandhi lead- an austere life. Same food everyday, sweets only on birthdays or for some important puja, basic clothes, and such lifestyle. They still used wood chulla for everyday purposes. Though they had gas connection, but it was used only very occasionally for some special purpose. There was no other electric appliance in the household apart from 1-2 electric coils. The business of trust which meant 4-5 lappys in the house didn’t influence the lifestyle or cultural life of the family much. It wasn’t the question of finances as much as the mindset that such things are not required for simple living. The washing soap used was the one cheapest available in market which is locally made. I was under impression that the costly surf excel though expensive is cost effective because a little bit of it works wonder. Especially when the quality of cloth is at stake. I thought that it might be of little use in a household which spends most of its time in the kitchen garden (which was huge), apple orchards or nursing the cattle. The day to day pattern was more or less fixed for everyone – difficult for the women who had quite a lot of work from early morning till night. At times, I couldn’t help wondering why not get a washing machine? They obviously can afford it!

The young generation did feel against the caste related rituals but they didn’t think it appropriate to speak against them. Why? – was my question at every instance. I was even more confused to find the pujari cleaning the toilets early morning everyday! John who had left everything he had for 50-60 years of his life to retire with this family was also being treated as an outsider at the end! The family took pride that John doesn’t like London but Naggar. It was kind of a testament that foreign countries were no good. It wasn’t that everybody was deep rooted into traditional thinking and ways. Veena di (Manju’s elder sis) is highly independent and works in a cooperative store. Manju herself wants to get out of HP and live on her own in cities like Bangalore etc, where she can manage her own life, marry the man of her dreams and live a lavish life. Pappu wants to take Ananda into marketing of herbs, expand the nurseries which would result in some visible changes in otherwise sad scenario of vanishing species. Yet, to get something you have to give something. Manju would have to give up her family. Pappu would have to follow the old customs and practices as Ananda’s growth depends upon the support from villagers.

The evenings at Ananda
They were the best part of the day. I used to water the plants in the evening if I wasn’t down in the town or helping in kitchen. After the sun had set, far below the valley I could see the river which looked like painted as I couldn’t see the water movement from such a height. The glaciers and the mountains in front looked serene and it was the only tine when I was alone. I missed my privacy and home. Delicious tasty food, thousand different ways to entertain myself, internet connection, friends to talk to. It was only Manju with whom I could relate to – she seemed to have similar fleshly desires as mine.

The ordeal
I felt sick in the last few days and so left the place in a hurry. I knew I couldn’t get any work even if I stayed because the computer center was under renovation. And I had enough of the adventure.

Coming back was perhaps a good decision, because the insect bites on my body didn’t look good and took a month to die out. It was the after effect of the trip which wasn’t so good. I was left with memories of a place I couldn’t understand. A place which was so modern in terms of collection of books, scientific research on herbs, accumulation of laptops, yet so antique in traditions, customs, values and morals. And lifestyle. I realized I was too set in my own ways to get easily accustomed to a different pattern of living. This was among the hardest thing I have accepted about myself. And it left me with a fear for the coming days. An inhibition is the worst enemy of man – not greed. That is the quote I hold true. And inhibited I became for my further travels. Till today. In these past three months at home, I have realized the comforts of home are incomparable. To travel you need some discomfort within.