Cognizant Dawn

Sarpass Trek.........An experience of the mountains

2011-09-18T13:31:00.002+05:30

Part I..................more to come

The mountains always fascinate the people from the plains and beaches, and I was equally smitten by them by the snow clad peaks which rose to touch the sky.

Swatya had been deciding for too long to pay a visit to the mountains- she didn’t want only to see them but tread on them. The first time around it got cancelled because I could not join her since I had exams but the second time round, we did some careful planning and managed to register ourselves for the ‘Sar-Pass’ trek which is organized by the Youth Hostel Association of India [YHAI] every year.

We read blogs, articles on the internet and most of them stated that the trek is mighty difficult. As usual I ignored it because I thought there is nothing impossible.

Swatya’s flight reached her twenty minutes later than the scheduled time and I along with my roommate Mallika had my first experience of the Delhi airport express metro, when I went to pick her up. The airport is claustrophobic and too plastic, or should I say concrete. It is like an alien world. I did not like it. I felt like running away from there as soon as possible.

Swatya and I left for Kullu the same evening. Next day, we got off at Bhuntar and took a sharing taxi to Kasol, our base camp which is at an altitude of 6500’. There was a gentleman in our taxi who was smoking his lungs out and after introductions later in the base camp, we realized he was our trek-mate, the first one who we met- Vikas from our very own Bengaluru.

We were assigned to a tent [no. 11] and the only other girl present there was Amardeep. it was our first day in the base camp and I was thoroughly having fun- trying to absorb every little incident around us. We started in awe at the Pin Parvati peak which could be seen from the camp. The first day, otherwise was eventless.

After dinner, there was camp fire which was being organized by SP-21 [the batch that leaves for Sarpass on 21.05.11].All of us chanted- ‘Fire, fire, campfire’, together, some people from SP-20 and SP-21 performed. We applauded them for their spirit. And then we had a hot, yummy cup of bournvita and hit our beds, or should I say sleeping bags? The next day was freezing cold and we had started our training programme- the exercise session. We not only sweat our fats but also our fears out. We got back, had our breakfast and set out for the acclimatization walk. This was my first experience of a trek or anything close to one and I could relate to some of the experiences of trekkers that I had read and which were stored in some remote corner of my brain.

We walked in a single file, one behind the other- Amar in front of me and Swatya behind. It was a good climb. It had rained the previous day and the muddy path had become slippery. The climb and crossing over of trees finally took us to the top but getting down, the descent was much tougher. We were slipping but came down in pretty good time. We had become friends with many others by this time. We reached the river- which was our final destination that day. The river Parvati was flowing in her full fervour. The scene was mesmerizing. Swatya and I had some fun taking pictures, while Amar had a quick nap.

We reached the base camp, had a quick wash and then headed for lunch. We had a word with all the new friends that we had made. Post lunch was our orientation session with the Field Director and the Deputy Field Director. Formal introductions took place and SP-22 got to know each other. Both the Director and the Deputy Director appointed a group leader, deputy leader and a cultural leader- who was incharge of organizing the camp fire.

Kalpit, ‘Culprit’ was appointed our cultural leader and he along with some of his friends started the talent hunt for the camp fire. He came and asked Swatya, Amar and me and we blindly declined. But he made such a ‘cute’ sorry face that Amar and I agreed, with a lot of insistence from Swatya of course.

2011-04-10T20:38:00.006+05:30

It was just a very hectic and boring week, or should I say more than two and there was nothing else to do other than work, which was too much and the brain was too saturated to think or do anything. So the best option was to relax and sleep but sleep eludes one at times like these and hence the next option was to watch a movie. Some movies had released and we (some others who were sailing in the same ship) decided to watch ‘Tanu weds Manu’.

The promotions of the movie looked very promising and hence we bought tickets to finally go and watch it. The movie began with the same old drama of a NRI boy seeking a partner for life in his homeland, his parents going gaga over girls who they had not seen in person, over trivial and exaggerated errands at hand being overlooked for the sake of the wife-to-be who was unknown.

The heroine of the movie made an entry in the second scene and the hero fell deeply in love with her (love at the first sight……blah blah….) and consented to marry her without asking of her opinion (she was not in a position to give it because she had swallowed 5 sleeping pills with a glass of vodka). After sometime the lady caught up with him in the train puffing smoke through her mouth.

And I kept thinking…….What kind of a guy would like a female like her who was so spoilt rotten inside and out…….and the other half of the movie kept proving to me and making this question more stronger and deeper?

I do not believe in love at first sights……..Big problem……lots of people say it happens and they do fall for somebody else……Secondly, I could not understand the patience or should I say tolerance levels of Mannu (Madhavan’s character in the movie) being exploited. Was he depicting the modern day Lord Ram? I guess he would have been happily loving the girl even if she had kicked him in his arse literally which she anyways otherwise did in the movie.

Bottomline- It was highly dumb, bad characterization…….the lady almost looked like a slut saving a few scenes (thanks to her clothes and the make-up). A very bad picture painted about why girls get enrolled in DU (Delhi University)…….to cultivate bad habits and have various boyfriends who they can dump according to their convenience. It was an utter waste of (our) resources…….i.e. money…………talent(could not qualify as a resource since it was not used)was not in use........anywhere.

2011-03-19T23:53:00.005+05:30

Disclaimer-This is an article review, as part of an academic assessment, the original article being "The language of Delhi-Birth, growth, banishment, reinvention by Sohail Hashmi", featured in the book- Celebrating Delhi.

‘Languages do not only transform over time, they also exist in different incarnations simultaneously within a specified region’. The authenticity of a language is difficult to determine if it is spoken in different places- as is with Braj whose area of expanse is from Agra –Mathura- Bharatpur and the language seems modified or changed with the inculcation of some different words, which are now very much a part of the lexicon, and it is how the masses have imbibed it as a part of literature.

Before getting into the intricacies of the form that languages derived due to the mutual influence over each other, it is also of great significance of how this change came about to be.

With the advent of the Aryans, the society was divided into four classes- Chaturvarnashreni- Brahmins, Vaisya, Kshatriya and the Shudra.’ Sanskrit’ here became the language of the effluent- which was a very limited stratum of society and was forbidden from learning to the Shudras. This practice continued till two princes- Buddha and Mahavira decided to preach the doctrines or philosophies in Pali and Magadhi , the native language of the masses bringing down with it the resplendent dominance of Sanskrit.

The Mughals, on their advent and ascent, propagated Persian as their language per se. And amidst the marching armies and hectic construction activity, there existed a silent, relentless growing presence- that of the Sufis. The Sufis opened their doors to all cadres of society- the rich and the poor, the healthy and the sick- for consultation in matters both blasphemous and sacred. They were in continual touch with the Bhakti poets in the same era-particularly the Nirgunis.

Nizam-Ud-Din Auliya instructed his disciple- the multifaceted Amir Khusrao to write in ‘Hindavi’ (a mix of Khadi boli, Turkish, Persian, Arabic and the local dialects), the language of the masses then. Disciples of Nizam-Ud-Din Auliya travelled far and wide to Punjab, Hyderabad and Gulbarga and carried with them Hindavi which is till date spoken and understood in those regions.

The capital of the Mughals kept shifting from Delhi to Agra and vice versa but Delhi became the stronghold when Shahajahan decided to build Shahajahanabad. It is during this time to which the birth of ‘Urdu’ can be traced to. ‘Ordu’ literally means an army camp, in Turkish and this was the language that had grown in the battlefields, in the market place and in the shrines of the Sufis. It had in a way democratised the creative process.

When the British came to India and had decided to learn the Persian language which was used in the Mughal courts, John Borthwick Gilchrist- an ardent traveller advised them to learn ‘Hindustani’ instead, since it was spoken and understood by the masses across the sub continent. And hence the ‘Hindustani’ and ‘Urdu’ became the languages of the Hindus and the Mohammedans respectively which eventually contributed to the two nation theory, the Partition of India and the creation of Pakistan.

Hence the language of Delhi, is a Creole, where the process of assimilation-like how it has been for all other languages happens at two levels- words from other languages are appropriated as they are to be used in their original sense. This happens primarily with words that have no parallel in that particular language. And the other level is, when a word or term is taken and transformed to give a different meaning.

This is usually how languages have developed and grown and they will continue to do so. Despite changes, languages manage to retain their original flavour and charisma and continue to inspire many a few to speak, read and write in them.

And as is said- ‘Languages survive and grow as long as they are able to change with the changing needs of the society that created them, after which they become part of another to give birth to a new Creole- as is the language of Delhi’.

2011-02-19T00:01:00.001+05:30

Of what trials and tribulations,
Do I think of or speak of,
When without you, I have naught.
But I am a speck of dust in the whirl wind.

The big bad world has, my darling,
Influenced you to not think of my presence,
Though I may not be there in body,
I am there; thin as air- my spirit alive by your side.

Do not look for answers in their eyes,
They are traitors and obnoxious retards,
Listen to my voice, my yearn, my call-
Come away with me- I am your tot.

The child who you have reared for years,
How can you live without me by your side?
I am your life, your contrivance for survival,
I am your beginning and your end.

Oh mama! How can you let me go alone?
To the skies of pleasant blue that turn dirty black?
To the serene gods or to the fiery demons?
Come along dearie- be my lamp, my light.

We were there to stay and to be together,
Come darling- come to me, my world of air-
Of freedom, of cheer- filled with joy and laughter.
Shake a leg with me, come, prance a tune, sing a song aloud.
Come- be a part of me- for I am a part of you.

2011-02-18T23:56:00.004+05:30

The brown liquid brewed in the kettle,
Waiting to be lightened by the white,
The curtains swayed welcoming the yellow,
Jolting into the red of the bed,

Out came the cups with the brown liquid into the orange light,
Staggering came she, with the tray held in her palms,
Admiring him in the sole pajamas and his favourite vest,
She feared walking up to him, not wanting to disturb him,
Fighting against the test of tests.

Memories came flooding to her-
Of the meeting- the first that she had with her man-
When she sang the ‘daffodils’, and squinted in his direction her exquisite wink,
Flattered and flustered, he blushed with pleasure at her sight.

And then time worked like mercury in space,
The blues, the bumps- the rides, the thumps,
The winds, the rain- the clutter the pain,
All put together by their kith and kin.

What is life and what is love?
With him being the pigeon and her being the dove?
And now with over half a decade of being together,
With the orange day melting into the hues of grey-
She waits for him to rise, for him to recognize.

Trotting towards the bed, wishing his memory of her to be intact,
She shakes him awake from his slumber-
Expecting a sentient smile-
But alas! receives a vacant stare of hostility and destitution.

And destitution she feels too, with him being there but not in her world,
To be together, yet to act like strangers.
In this life-where the value of a minute,
When recognition manifolds, was unknown to her,

So she awaits the pink of the next day,
With the hot brown liquid again,
To seek acknowledgement from his face,
To reconcile with him for at least a gracious minute-
For her lifetime of boundless joy- which will ignite in her, a desire,
To see another pink transform into yellow and end in grey-
To rise again in April and to fade in May.

2011-02-02T20:19:00.007+05:30

We were asked to write an article about a landscape space and i chose to write about the one that was the first in my realisation.

“I am on a lion head”, I called out to him and turned around to see my little brother swinging his legs sitting on a curved elephant trunk. This is the most vivid memory I have of my first realization of a landscape space- which I acknowledge it as now but of my or should I say ‘our’ favourite park. We were a group of four, a terror in the neighbourhood, kids who were remembered, reprimanded for the pranks that we played.

We were packed off with one adult escort to this park- “our heaven”. And on this particular day, we had managed to come all on our own with a promise that we would get back well before dark. Though it was the season of the scorching summer, I still wore my red sleeveless knitted wool frock, carried a small picnic basket, held my little brother’s hand, who is not little anymore, and set off to the park.

The park’s, 4000sq.ft in area, entrance is from the north side and is located in a residential neighbourhood, two lanes away from the main road which is buzzing with heavy traffic.

The park’s main features are the animals heads which were built with concrete and which went upto a height of 1.5m, a little too tall for the kids who were our age then in primary school and it was a task for us to climb the animal heads without support or a push from the escort who had accompanied us- either our cousins, parents or grandparents.

Another feature which we all loved was watching now, and catching then, the little fish in the pink lotus pond. Sitting at the edge of the pond now, feels serene. The rhythmic movement of the fish in the water transports one into a different world where everything is quiet amidst the noise, everything is white amidst the colour and everything is me amidst the all.

The only concrete animal that was built in its entire form was the tortoise where we could go in through its shell and come out through its tail. Here is where we learnt to overcome our fears of the dark, where we learnt to rise after a fall, where we learnt to lend a hand and where we learnt amongst all trivial things, to share.

The big tamarind tree which was our third attraction for the ‘imli’ and well, this was what we filled our pockets with first and baskets later. This is where we learnt to play, learnt to hide- learnt to seek, learnt to be strong and sometimes weak- for the joy of oneself and others because it was the same, there was no duality in the joy- the same things made us happy, this was where our innocence was fostered.

This landscape space or my first idea of anything called a landscape space was the rocks and the climb, the painted concrete animal heads, a lotus pond with fish, a huge tamarind tree, a small jogging track and the ‘mali’ running behind us all, the vanilla cup cake and the red frock, the blue sky and the green cacti- all enclosed, all complimentary, all unique which transformed us, somewhere down the lane, into what we are today- a place where we made friends, who have stayed till date and will stay forever. A place where we danced and swayed, bright with laughter until our stomachs hurt and our eyes shined. Here is where we ‘grew up’ in the true sense of the word.

2010-10-29T01:07:00.003+05:30

The dice rolled again to show
That nobody could beat the destiny in row
He smacked his lips and clapped his hands
‘Gone’ he said, there goes your throne and here go your lands.

What do you have in the world that you love?
That thing which can get you back your honour and your pride?
In stunned silence, with heads bowed, the brothers thought of the one thing
Which they valued more than gold.

To the pedestal it was dragged as a bet,
The beautiful and graceful, the darling pet.

The dice rolled again in the clapped hands
‘Beat it’ he said and she is all yours.
He closed his eyes and kept the calm
I cannot leave you at bay and do you this harm….

She pinned her pain and stood like a wall,
Protecting their honour, in the eyes of them all.
It swept and withered like a leaf lost…..
The frost and the blue, the ice and the fall.

Am I the savior or am I the saved?
Am I a creature of the world so depraved?
They will lose me to a man so vindictive and unkind,
Who has lost his sanity and, in vain, his mind.

They think of me as a thing of great value,
They bet their lives, the men with this sorrow
With heaviness in the heart, they had turned to her
She stood there with their disappointment as their living sore!

Bare them as they have bared you, amongst the folk.
They will win back the land and treat this as a joke….
Bear down on them like a lightning crescent
Down goes the boat, to doom and descent.

Stand like a queen, with dignity upheld,
The kings are fighting for every tear unshed;
Fear is cruel and will eat you up raw,
They are your true friends, the sun you always saw.

The dice rolled, like a river outraged
Her might her sword, her thought her shield
Their shame bore the gruesome outcome
The shield got naïve and the sword turned to spade.

‘Lost’, ‘Aha’, ‘Lost’ he screamed, to them, in spite
She had realized her fate, much before the awful site.
She gazed at her beloveds, so feeble they seemed
They had fostered her the humiliation for her love redeemed.

2010-08-28T23:35:00.001+05:30

Don’t render me homeless said I to need
But he was bent upon doing so for greed
You are lame and useless and shelter you need not
You will wither and die whether you are in or you are out.

You ought not ask for the pleasure of it all
There are more others here deserved or not
But I am more worthy to him I said
He laughed at my plight and asked for the worthiness to be shed.

I claimed of class of creed and race
And said I outstand the rest in place
He spat out at me for being this way
And said only those with humility are sheltered in this space.

Oh hell I said and he offered me no place there
‘coz there are many sinners in this big bad world
Who qualify to stay there and you wont make it there too
I slumped and fell like a rock hit.
Send me some place with a roof on my head
I have been homeless alive
And I don’t want to be homeless when I am dead.

2010-05-05T00:23:00.001+05:30

The day seemed empty,
Like the paradigm of life,
Its diminishing beauty, with the diminishing light,
It took her back into the ecstatic time.....
Where happiness danced when they looked at each other,
Holding hands, exchanging vows,
Oh! The handsome beauty and the reckless nerd
Fell in love, the twosome, from the human herd.

Parents and friends gathered to celebrate,
The awesome champagne and the cake-chocolate
Oh! Wow thought her with dreamy blue eyes,
This is so pious, so wonderful and nice.

Up went her veil and the blue met the brown,
The smile reached the rouge and the cheek to the eyes,
Up went the flowers white,
To be held by somebody with great delight.

Love existed between the twosome,
Until the trivial toothpaste changed the rack,
The soaps changed place and the side of the bed got thrashed.

And then love floated like dust through the vacuum,
Got hung like towels to dry,
Got sliced like butter to toast the bread,
Got brewed like the coffee and the omelet to fry!!!

But this is fantastic thought the brown,
“I love you” he said to the blue,
The blue smiled but it stayed there and did not touch the cheek.
‘Is this love’ thought her and is he a geek?

‘Oh! I love him’ he said and she detested it.
‘But why do we need him here?’ Said she,
But it is my house and he stays and he cuddled it and it puddled in the place everywhere,
Whatever happened to her space……it existed nowhere
And she thought again……..is this love?

Then started the arguments……
Oh what a bad dress, what battered shoes…..
And then she asked….why did you let him take the car?
To which he said…..it is mine and don’t you go too far.

And then she thought again…..and deeply this time….is it his or WAS IT OURS?
And when she asked him aloud….the brown turned red and the blue turned white…..
And she asked herself……..what is love?

That’s when she reminded herself of the veil of fantasy,
When the vows were taken and the fingers ringed,
And up went the veil and she saw the mean brown
And the blue was dreamy with a veil of water…..
Of supposed happiness……or of glorified pain?

And now she sleeps at his bedside….
With the same thought delving deeper for tomorrow to answer…
Her timeless, priceless question……….
What would she be met tomorrow with-doubt and disgrace again like the ‘yesters
Or will the veil finally lift to cloudless, clear skies?????

2010-04-09T00:53:00.002+05:30

Birthday is just not a special day,
Its much more than what words can say,
Its not celebration that it asks for,
its an occasion to be thrived about.
Its special because the world got us and punishing because we got the world.
It’s a day where memories should be gathered and a day when worries should be smothered.
A day when you light a candle to celebrate that you have grown older.
And more importantly wiser.
A day to spread happiness and cheer, a day to live without fear.
So, happy birthday dear and have a great year.

This was for meds on her birthday.

2010-03-30T21:46:00.001+05:30

This was penned by nim and me during under-graduation in a chemistry or biology class when we found it extremely boring and she started writing it and i started adding to it. it was great fun and i adore some of her works which i am sure most of you must have read on her blog.

As soon as the night falls by,
The celestial abode comes out of the veil,
Revealing the untold mysteries of the sky,
Showing its dazzling beauty to the eye.
Amidst these dark clouds can be seen,
The jovial stars and their glitter so clean,
The look of the pale gray ground,
Shone them bright with a mystical sound.
The sparkle, the glitter, the shimmer, the shine,
A desire for it to be all mine,
Though my heart yearns for it my mind knows this,
The contrariety between reality and dream still poses.

2010-02-10T23:38:00.001+05:30

Arisen from the dawn,
A thought came to lead,
To the dungeon of despair,
like a germ of seed.

In her eye lay a tear beheld,
On the folds of her dress to be shed,
She waited for just the moment precise,
When she could avenge and show the world the despise.

Like a prey to get she leaped into foray,
Realizing too late to her dismay,
The world had too many like her in itself housed,
Torn by the wind and wet by the cloud.

A hollow bane and a furious cause,
Makes her wander through the pause,
Sitting alone she moves the wheels,
Heading her way through the trees.

She hopes to rise like the sun again,
Morning after morning with a receding claim.

2007-10-29T14:13:00.001+05:30

in the beautiful quiet of the night
he came into the light
expecting a rather sober welcome, he waded into sight
but, la behold, to his disappointment
there lay morning bright and no sign of a candle light.

he drifted and shifted, wanting to get rid of it all
in his arms, carrying her, he went to the fall
he let himself be drowned
because with her he wanted to be

he had waited for her but she had left him,
to embrace another world,
but he didn't want to let her go,
he cried and whined, prayed her to stay
but in the middle of the night though she had it her way.

she walked in the dark, ran to her beloved
but little did she know, her end awaited her there.
he took her in his arms, with joy he swayed
for his life was with him and the sight of death nowhere
together they sat in the middle of the night
dreaming of the morning........to begin afresh and bright

then came the sun into his manifold, rising through the dust;
for a new saga to be told.

through the trees he saw them both............
out came his dagger
his little girl lay in his hands, looking into his expressionless eyes.

the indecipherable look wouldn't pass him
he had killed his darling child
just because she loved him too.

.............and now at the waterfall, both have drowned
the daughter rising above and the father with no sound.........

2007-08-17T17:14:00.001+05:30

the tiny sparks of light to behold,
between shade and shadow the difference to be told,
the moon and the sun and the stars that shine,
give rise to a mystery and a feeling divine.

the browns become grays and the grays become brown,
to make me seem and sound like a clown.
the countless colours that seem just one,
no blues, no whites, all but one.

the rustle in my ears tells the story,
that another day is gone in the pages of history,
seems to me that i am of another kind,
who needs not eyes but just the mind.