Another slice of paradise ! Bakloh

Paradise to different people could mean divergent settings . To some it may be the mystical garden of Eden, to few it could be a place of fun , crowds gyrating to music , ostentatious partying to some and to others , adventure . I am satiated in a peaceful spot with natural beauty and tranquility ! A space where I can find myself once again ; where I am surrounded by mountains and hills , green valleys and meandering rivers where the flora and fauna silently watch me and I can gaze into the wilderness undisturbed for hours .A slumberous sort of place , where I can trace my steps into pages of history .

I was ever so fortunate to be able to travel to the remotest corners of India and also to places away from the touristy circuit ; untouched by the egregious behaviour of throngs hell bent on disturbing the peace. My first visit to Bakloh was not really planned . We were at another awesome locale close by and decided to stop over at this picturesque setting almost off the beaten track ! As we stepped on the pedal and climbed few steep hills , a whole vista opened up in front of us like a canvas where God seemed to be just about mixing the last bit of orange and pink to showcase the last rays of the setting sun . Somebody rightly said “ whoever made sunsets , had the best set of crayons ! “ We drove to the archaic Officer’s mess which was huge but had only a handful of people to honour it . This mess made of wood and glass panes was strategically located with a 360 degree stunning view of the Dauladhar ranges. I was fortunate to visit Bakloh twice . Once during spring and once during the beginning of winter when the Heavens had just started scooping dollops of Ice cream on to the mountain tops ! The beauty is indescribable if you are a lover of nature . Long fingers of sunshine piercing through thick fog as it danced around whimsically was a sight to behold . The wild roses and numerous wild flowers daintily dotted the little ponds and springs, that jerked out of the rocks which made Bakloh seem like Paradise during spring.

The evening we landed , we decided to have an early dinner and rest . By then , we were already consumed by the magnificence of the place . It was a full moon night. The silhouette of a once regal edifice dazzled against the silvery skyline .While I stood on the long verandah awestruck by the beauty, I could see the lights of the entire township twinkling like stars . I almost imagined Leopards leaping towards me from trees so tall or a black bear well camouflaged doing a bear crawl to reach me through the jungle like surroundings around ! This sent a shiver down my spine . What if they were for real ? Three fourths of the mess building was all shut and locked and shrouded in eerie darkness . Shadows of the big moon and lights against the glass panes played merry hell into my imagination . This tickled my inquisitiveness . I had to find out everything about this mystifying little hill station . There seemed to be many more interesting facts than met my eye.

The morning was magical , as though the sun was late to rise . I requested the officer ‘s mess to be completely opened. Most of the rooms seemed to have been shut forever . I felt like part of ‘Enid Blyton’s Five Find Outers ‘ and the mysteries they unravelled with their dog Buster !!! But instead of Pip , Daisy, Larry ,Fatty and Bets, I got around two elderly locals whose fore fathers and fathers had worked in various capacities here . I simply had to lend my ears and the gin seemed to continuously pour out of a bottle . This cantt. was primarily built for the 4th Gorkha Rifles in 1865 or 1866 and spanned around 15 kms and was a mere 25 kms from another erstwhile old British Cantonment, Dalhousie . It is part of the Chamba district of Himachal Pradesh .
In hill stations sun sets are early and before one realises ,the birds are flying away in flocks to roost . A sinister silence then engulfs the whole area . I decided to do my ‘walk through’ to the other rooms to understand what it could have been before the sun glided slowly to the west . I was soon enlightened on this and much more by my well versed ‘ guides ‘ ! There were huge table tennis rooms , card rooms and billiard rooms. The building seemed to be in good stead with a 4 GR crest boldly etched above the fire place in one of the rooms . Each and every room had plenty of glass panes to maximise the sunshine.Thus the least of the winter sun too could find its way through these panes , keeping away the depressive feeling that accompanies the frosty white winters.. As we kept shutting the doors once again , I felt as if the walls had plenty of stories to tell and had them all boxed up , never to be repeated again . I wished they would whisper into my ears about the soirées they had witnessed ,the bonfires and the ball rooms.

I went down the little cantt. road and soon came to the old bazar area , which continued to cling on to their bygone culture and more than anything their names ! One was called the 1/4 bazar which was bigger and the second one was the 2/4 bazar. although 1/4 Gorkha Rifles was raised in Pittoragarh , Uttarakhand and 2/4 Gorkha Rifles was raised at Bakloh itself. Bakloh was meant to be a Regimental centre ; a place where the families of soldiers and officers on the war front could reside and the injured could convalesce . Hill stations with it’s salubrious weather was ideal for hill troops like the Gorkhas and the British officers as well . These well situated and developed cantonments were also ideal for children ‘s education.

During lunch , the landscape was entirely different. We could see the entire ridge line as we sipped our hot soup which was so welcoming with the slight nip in the air . The Ranjit Sagar Dam on the river Ravi glistened like a thousand diamonds as the sun shone upon it . Bakloh , I was told was quite daunting during the rains with the clouds hanging low in a thick haze all around .Early evenings I would sit outside the mess ( probably a huge lawn during the yesteryears) . Indian evenings were never complete without hot tea and pakoras ! I would imagine the most bewitching ladies in hats , chaperoned by maids rambling along the cobbled roads in horse drawn carriages making their way either for high tea or to their own homes. Little babies in perambulators and rosy cheeked children with bonnets with their ayahs playing In gay abandon must have been a natural sight too !

Although there was hardly much left to describe of the yesteryear charm of the bungalows that housed the British officers , I walked around looking for some traces of the days gone by. The broken walls covered in creepers and pieces of mud stained chips of flooring obscured by moss, also seemed to be looking forward to somebody who would stray past. I wondered how Bakloh would have been at it’s best times . The Officer’s Mess lit up with chandeliers, silver candlesticks and table ware shining in the glow of the flames emanating from the fire place and the dinner gong sounding clear and vivid at appointed timings. People hurrying home and buddies making way to the bungalows to get uniforms ready for their sahebs must have been a usual sight I presume . I could visualise the ‘ kansamah’ ( cook ) , the butler ,the liveried waiters and masalchi ( the person who washed dishes )scurrying with their jobs with great professionalism . Those days the water carriers had an important role too , since water had to be brought from the springs. Winters were the most difficult phase for the helpers too. Wood had to be stocked for heating purposes and for the fireplaces. Chimney cleaners were also a common sight since the clogged chimney had to be cleaned before the onset of winter .

I seemed to have dug into quite a few layers of history during my very first visit to Bakloh with vignettes of the daily living of a past era . History &and imagination with folklore entwined , helped me to bring to life once again a large buzzy ancient Gorkha Cantt. which is now faded and almost obscure .Lt Col John Masters who was posted with 2/4 here still lives on through his books and the magic of this old fashioned township .

P.S: Kind courtesy Col Vikram Raghavan 1/4 GR , a good family friend, who also served in Bakloh has offered to get this piece published in his regimental magazine, for which I am immensely grateful.

‘House call’ doctors and the apothecary

 During the days of the baby boomers like me —the good old 60s and 70s ,I had never travelled to a doctor’s clinic for any kind of ailment . Everything was comfortably managed within the four walls of my home with our family doctor visiting us . He most often would be accompanied by the most consequential person in our lives, the compounder or the apothecary as he was known during earlier times .Compounders made customised medicines and syrups according to the instructions of the doctor , as per the requirement of each patient.

Unlike the present day when I see little kids bawling away ,when they see the ‘ white coat ‘ and are cajoled and wooed by their parents with their favourites ; we used to look forward to Dr Uncle ‘s visit . He was part and parcel of our home . My mother was in charge of all our medical problems and would read up a lot on this subject too . She was extremely systematic about maintaining our temperature , symptoms etc . All in all our Florence Nightingale who would give up her night sleep in case we were in pain or having high fever. After she did her basic research on us and found it beyond her healing powers , she would call for the doctor who was also our ‘ family physician ‘. Come hail or snow , whether there was electricity or not , he never turned us down as far as my memory goes . By the time it was time for the Dr to arrive , my mother would lay a neat tea tray with a lovely tray cloth and would be all set to receive the duo . A steel vessel specially kept for boiling syringes was also filled with water and in readiness ,besides of course a towel specially kept apart for the doctor . The doctor had our entire family history of illnesses and was also well acquainted with the latest tidings of the family ! Dr SK Das the first family doctor I remember while we lived in erstwhile Calcutta , knew how to get around the child and would easily and deftly perform his job . He was followed by Dr SK Sathe in Belgaum who was another extremely kind hearted man .The doctor and patient had equal faith in each other. We did not have to explain every time what allergy ran in the family , or whether the youngest had a bout of chicken pox recently ! He knew it all . He could recount every little bit and piece regarding each individual . To add a little zest to this topic — I am sure you would recollect the old Bollywood movies where it was raining incessantly and a woman was in travail . A man with an oversized black umbrella goes to fetch ‘Dr Babu’ and despite the inconvenience, the health care giver, ever willingly accompanied the man to the house at the dead of night .Those were the days of ungrudging, compassionate doctors. The days when ‘ Mercurochrome ‘ left a red stamp on cuts and we felt good when folks asked “ what happened beta ? hope u are not too hurt “ ? ! while we would limp a little more in want of more sympathy ! The days of soft sweet swab sticks used to paint the throat which was infected , the days of painful TABC ( typhoid , para typhoid and cholera ) injections given through those gigantic , formidable needles that incapacitated us for at least two days and not to forget the small pox vaccine stamped on your upper arm like a wax government seal, forever !Good riddance to the last three . It will always remain a painful reminder of yesteryears .

The doctor would soon suggest medicines and the compounder would take out a small mortar and pestle to grind a quarter of a pink tablet , a half of a white one and some other full tablet ( not in that order or proportion ) powder it and put it into a small bottle and pour something in , akin to the colour of Rooh Afza and shake up the bottle till the powder dissolved well enough . Afterwards a paper strip with gradations was stuck neatly on the bottle which represented the dosage of the medicine . This would be mostly teaspoon measures . By then we children were super excited to see the coloured syrups and were willing to have it without a fuss thinking it to be some kind of ‘ manna ‘ from Heaven !! Thereafter some small talk with the family and the assurance that the Dr could be contacted at any time , night or day in case things went out of control . We dare think of calling up our physician these days at a wrong hour ! He wouldn’t be bothered whether we were living or dead the next day !

I remember my mother telling me that when I was around 2 years old , I had fever and became delirious. Our doctor rushed to our home and sat for at least four hours till my fever came down . He himself was putting cold compress on my forehead and medicating me . Such unreserved dedication !Somebody whom we admired for his simplicity , his professionalism and dexterity . The old timers believed in not just healing the body but also the mind and the soul . They believed in instilling confidence in patients . In fact they adopted families ! These were the virtuous doctors who stood by the Hyppocrates oath through thick and thin . These days I read the oath at the entrance of most hospitals ; more for our understanding and least for those it was made for !
Come to think of it , we as children lived less complicated lives compared to the ‘ zoomers ‘ and generation Alpha . Medical research certainly had not reached such excellent standards as now and doctors were not super specialists with a long line of degrees after their name . But we didn’t have as many diseases as we suffer today. The emotional , physical drain and empty pocket experience once we escape a multi speciality 5 star hospital was at all costs avoided because there never existed one .The ‘ touch and feel ‘ technique of knowing symptoms seems to have disappeared too . Knocking on the stomach between the index and the middle finger which gave different sounds is out of fashion now ! Mr ENT does not seem to know you have a heart and the Hepatologist thinks you are a headless chicken ! By the time the one day picnic running from pillar to post , at the hospital is over and we exit , we could have developed a new disease and may be back on the ‘ revolving chair ‘ once again !! The house call doctors made things so easy for the poor and rich alike . It was like shooting fish in a barrel ! My grandparents lived in our ancestral village in Kerala . Can you imagine those antiquated days when a street light was a luxury and even if it existed ,showed light only as bright as a fading candle . The heavy rains in the south and many more such hiccups were not stumbling blocks in the way of the doctors who so kindly gave personalised medical service . My grandparents were lucky to belong to a family of doctors . By any streak of bad luck if the telephone lines were down, they would still come hook or by crook when we sent a house help on cycle who knew the short cuts like the back of his palm to fetch the Dr brother or Dr cousin . I had never seen such a huge torch before or thereafter in my life like my doctor uncles had . Without exaggeration almost as big as a Lambretta scotter ‘s headlight ! The brown leather bag with medicines was held adeptly by the apothecary cum driver who would help the Dr out of the car while a senior member of the household would perform the welcome ceremony and soon the healing process would start . Amazingly, every time with few positive sentences . “ Pengale ( elder sister in Malayalam ) there is nothing wrong with you . What made you call me ? “ If it were meal time , they would join us depending on how busy they were . Enroute the Dr might look up somebody who was ill a fortnight ago to simply enquire. These healers were the bedrock of our society . Although many methods were archaic and orthodox they kept us alive and kicking !
The system of ‘ house call ‘ doctors peaked in the 1800s . Surprisingly not many abroad and a lot many of us here are aware that the first doctor was an Indian Sushruta by name who even conducted surgeries in the second century BC .This was the branch of medicine called Ayurveda whose founding fathers were Indians . It is still a very important alternate therapy . Lot of people still believe in healing through this method . Our epics like Mahabharata and Ramayana mention very distinctly about the healing by Ayurveda . Now we have come a long way as far as medicine is concerned. But are we not losing that human touch whilst healing ? It’s becoming like any other commercial industry . I remember unmistakably, that the poor were not denied medical aid for lack of money . The compounder maintained a book with individual names in it date wise . The amount due was also written in it .People paid up as and when they got their wages . I am lucky to have seen times like that when selfless service was rendered.
Here I recollect what Nathaniel Hawthorn once said.
“ Time flies over us , but leaves its shadows behind “ !!

177 days with my grandson !

       “ A child is like a butterfly in the wind

          Some can fly higher than the others ;   

               but each one flies the best it can .

          Why compare one with the other ?

           Each one is different , each one is special

                      Each one is beautiful  

                                        Anonymous 

             I decided to undertake an eighteen hour journey , across the oceans just to spend some valuable time with my two and a half year old ! I thought it was important for him  to know his kith and kin as he grew up , especially being on an alien land . He needed to know our culture ,our rich heritage and our history.  I was keen he started understanding and speaking at least two Indian languages . English came to him naturally in any case . I had a few basic aspirations for him .  Eating home cooked meals and not making French fries , pizza and burgers as his staple . Taking up some hobby around the house , trying to help his mother ,so that he could grow up to be sufficiently independent . Yes , these classes often went through the roof with no stop in sight for the little one as he pranced around and kept repeating the words laughing  aloud . His large beautiful eyes spoke more than he expressed .

             I honestly cannot pinpoint at which moment during my  sojourn there, did I  unleash the child  within me ! I saw Vardaan grow month after month , a little bigger , more naughtier , trying to be more persuasive and more expressive .  His vocabulary seemed to be exceptional for a two and a half year old and  he had  become candidly chatty.  He wanted to speak like an adult at the fastest and questioned when in doubt ! He used to come out with rather funny words like ‘ Poisomus  Creme‘ just because we used to prevail upon him not to lick his body lotion and creme  since it was poisonous . His barrage of questions was never ending . He wanted to ape each of us in behaviour and speech .  He was forever confused whether he should call us  Appacha and Ammachy in Malayalam ( for grandparents )or Papa and Mama like his parents addressed us . After the initial few days he decided to sleep between  the two of us in our bed . He would come with his ‘ cudally , cudally ‘ pillow  ( read as cuddly ) and his softy , softy blanket along with MITER ( Mr ) TUTU his favourite teddy who was as tall as him . Tutu was his first Christmas gift from us . He was christened Tutu by my husband because we were on the brink of the year 2022 ! He had nick named his stuffed toys with all kinds of fascinating  names like  Mr Monu , Mr Capy , Mr Myrtle , Mr Cuddles  etc and this entire entourage would find their way to our bed . He  was very particular that we said good night to each of them , which could be sometimes so vigorous to the extent of stifling us !! 

      Then came the season of story telling . He was more interested in listening to real time stories and  would also suggest the plot . Initially it began with two cops and two thieves and this would be re-enacted many times over . Finally he knew the story verbatim and before I could come to the next line he would tell me what came ahead ! “ Mama there was a big cave in the forest “ and the size of the cave would be extended by both his little hands so much so that it would hit his grandfather’s  head with a thud which was not so welcome to him who was in zee zee land already ! His admiration for the cops there was tremendous , especially the siren on their vehicle . Showing our photograph his mother told Varu that his grandfather was in the Army at one point in time . Soon came the retort “ it is called the cop army Mama “ ! He has such a sense of present wit that he can make anybody burst  into splits of laughter. The  IQ for a little midget of his age is staggering . He can give uninterrupted attention to conversations and is an excellent transmitter !The minute somebody rings the door bell , lo and behold our man is there with his adorable social graces . My little elf would be soon transformed into the best kid in the lane with everybody loading him with compliments ! The other side of the coin seemed to be meant only for us to see !! One day when the bell rang , his mother asked him who it was . This was the time our toddler was trying his hand with long sentences and eloquent words . What he replied was really funny . “ Mom there is nobody people there “!

Although this little poppet is our personal physician at home ; even extending his benevolence to the neighbors but when he had to go to his pediatrician , it was quite a nightmare ! At home when he went overboard washing his trucks and toys , I kept reminding him of his  Dr Shetty in case he caught a cough or cold !! At first he used to plead not to do so giving the excuse “Amma can’t you see how messy it is ?” but since it became once too often and irresistible for him , he told me “ Mama please bring Dr Chetty ( Shetty ) . I am not scared!"  Indeed sacred games of different kind !! 

Another episode I cannot forget is when my son ‘s Audi had a flat and he called the way side service , this little man was all eyes and ears . Next day onwards , he started opening out the wheels of each of his toy cars and trucks including his tricycles. Finally what was left was a a pile of junk yard cars . His experiments came forthwith before he forgot the subject .The gleam in his eyes with a hint of a smile never stopped intriguing  me. I knew that the little computer was working overtime in his little head!

His gait is very commanding . Hands locked behind , penchant for dressing  ( to which his mother was a major contributor ), then he would come running to me for brushing his hair , baby lotion on his face and a small request in my ears “ put some parpume ( perfume ) ! Indulging him in these fun things was my passion . Finally one look in the mirror and he would ask “ am I handshome “ ! I could hear his mom shout out from their room “ handsome is what handsome does “ !!

      We all love music in the family and my son  sings beautifully and plays the guitar . Sure it is in this little one ‘s genes as well . He loves hearing his father sing and loves to hear songs play on the google . One of my favourite hobbies is to hear the evergreen oldies too. Very soon I was  dumbfounded to hear this cutie sing the first two lines of the song “ Deewana hua Badal “ ! That was the start point of our singing and drama classes ! Without much delay , he started giving commands to ‘ Aunty Google ‘. “ ok google play Deewana hua Badal by Asha Bhonsle and Mohammed Rafi from the film Kashmir ki Kali “ I was absolutely mystified at this rapid fire round from him . Without much of a time lapse , he graduated to singing a whole stanza and by the time we left , he could somehow sing the whole track with his cute words sprinkled in . For example instead of  ‘ mehaboob ‘ it would be mehabooj and when it came to the “ Aha , ha , ha , ha , ha “ part he would make a quick little shake of his  little bottom and watch whether we were approving !  Very soon he moved on to Rajesh Khanna’s songs  and the amusement of it all was when he one day requested me “ Mama can you please call Shammi Kapoor and Sharmila Tagore to my house ? “ That took the cake ! Usually instead of beating around the bush I like to give him simple and straight forward answers as I used to do with my son . But this time I was bemused how to explain  that this hero he so revered had crossed the rainbow bridge . Finally after much brain scratching I conceded defeat and told him that I would try my best ! 

       My grandie is a very affable toddler and a people ‘s person . He loves having people over including the little dogs who cross their home on walks . He would never fail to greet anybody and introduce himself and ask them their names and what they did . When folks clinked glasses and said ‘ cheers ‘ he would run and get his little tumbler with juice or water and do the same saying “ cheers to good times “ ! Seemed like one of   yesterday ‘s Kingfisher airlines advertisement ! The  orange  lips which the juice left alongside his mature etiquettes always brought a giggle to me . Once we were invited by a friend to dinner and they were enquiring of our choice of drink . Pat came a little voice from somewhere  “ I’ll have  wine” !

He has a great deal of equanimity . When we both had to go out , he would come darting and hold  our hands lest we slip anywhere . He would then say “ now walk very slow-ly  Appacha , Ammachy . Similarly when we got back , he would rush to my side of the SUV to open it and I had to put up an act of him helping me out ! From carrying light to moderately heavy groceries he did it all . His gentlemanly garb would get frayed only when he used to decide to experiment with the naughty side of him ! Under the elastic label of ‘ helping ‘ , he would squeeze out some water from his bottle , run for the mop and start wiping up the area till his mom caught him red handed . 

       We had gifted him a ‘ Doctor ‘s  set ‘ few months ago . Since I had a bad back , he used to come with his bag and ask me whether I have a BUBU ( hurt ) . Then he would wear his specs and check the heartbeat ,  poke something into my nose and give two three jabs left right and centre and finally an all ok certificate and scoots  ! His favourite cartoon character is BLIPPY and sure he learnt  quite a lot from him . Came Halloween and our little man decided to dress like BLIPPY . His favoritism for  ROOMBA was unparalleled . On many a night before bed he would hug me and say “ Ammachy I love you tooooo much ; more than the ROOMBA and its docking station !! I realised this was his  highest standard of love . It was more than an award for me !

       The Sun God slowly started smiling and the cold began receding . We wanted to start a garden going for them . My littlest member was the most enthusiastic . We got him a gardening set and pair of gloves which could house one more set of little hands in them . Yet he would diligently wear them and be with us trying to pull tufts of grass , calling himself CESARO ( the name of their gardener ) till this phase of messing  around was over ! Initially he felt pinching flowers was normal . Then I thought of a novel idea . I told him that he is in charge of the garden and must take care of it well and water it  till I came next ! I think this is working well . Then there is LORENA who is a house keeper who comes to clean the house . The moment she is in , the little sweetie would be after her calling her name in a sing song manner “ LORAAIINA did you wash your hands ? did you wipe your hands on my Papa ‘s towel ? ! “ I don’t think it would have been much of a problem for Hank Ketcham to have written the cartoon strip Dennis the Menace and make Dennis so delightful and captivating so much so I am still in love with him. The author would have to just  watch few children like mine closely and boom would pop out a Mr Dennis ! My children just told me that after I got back to my Indian shores ,  my little one has almost turned to be a singing minstrel like those specialist entertainers of the 1830s visiting their neighbours and singing all the Hindi songs he knew while they went about their chores. I miss his drools and tight hugs .They oozed with affection.

         Vardaan means ‘A BOON ‘ in Sanskrit .  All what I want to tell you son  is that  “ I love you to the moon and back ”! This phrase originated from one of the best selling picture books ‘ Guess how much I love you ‘ by Sam Mc Bratney. Till we meet again Verdi for more frolic and fun .  Be like the anemone - carefree , bright and beautiful and keep fluttering in the breeze . Your innocent laughter and pranks will always remind me of a packaged box of rainbows and sunshine .      

The Scent of the Pines

 My love for travel is inextricably linked to savoring beauty and learning about the countless cultures of our vast country .I would love to go back and sit at an old fashioned table by the glow of a hurricane lamp and pen down innumerable memories almost getting smudged with the vagaries of time .

I lived two knockout years of my life at DHARAMSHALA in the winsome state of Himachal Pradesh ; bordered by the breathtaking view of the formidable Dauladhar ranges.

 The house in which we lived , an old fashioned British bungalow, built by a certain Col Neil was already a hundred years old ! The house was aptly named STILL BROOK owing to the gurgling stream flowing near by lapping against scores of interesting looking pebbles and moss ridden rocks .

Due to the huge earthquake that struck the Kangra valley in 1905 , our vintage home had been literally sliced into half and there were only the bigger debris which was visibly seen lying around as some integral part of the brook . The flooring still remained , a grim reminder of that horrendous day of history . The stables were in a shattered state too . I would sit in our lawn and see the brook spout and spurt ringing musical notes in my ears , as I often jotted down a page or two ; imagining a glorious bygone era , the bungalow replete in all its glory , horses and horsemen with the ‘ Gora Saheb ‘ with their silver spurs . My imagination would thus take wings !

Each season flitted by like a kaleidoscope . The candy floss toned sunsets in spring , to the greyish dark clouds which threatened to bring down buckets of rain , to the white snowy winters along with its flora and fauna were absolutely mesmeric . 

Summers made birds and butterflies congregate in our garden dipping into the flowers of contrasting hues while chameleons pranced around in gay abandon .We were surrounded by a pine forest which was endowed with floral notes of their own . The scent of the pines used to be very predominant during the summers . The children used to slither down the slopes of the hills slipping on the pine needles bruising their elbows and knees but not giving up on the fun and frolic they had ! During the rains the fog would hang heavily like a thick curtain. Would you be surprised if I said that the fog had its own fragrance . Open the doors and it would simply wisp in like an uninvited sinister guest !!

September to November was a welcome interlude from the harsh rain and frost . My son and I would sit in the sunshine as often as we could and chase the sun with our garden chairs till the warmth of the Surya Dev would slowly fade away giving space to a cool nip in the air . Col Neil may have left Still Brook eons ago but seemed to have left a chef behind !! As far as my memory goes , I must have baked the maximum where the ‘ FAUJ ‘ gave us the opportunity to call our home . From Apple pies to Diplomat puddings to Rum cakes et al !

Tourists flocked from all over to see the Dalai Lama ‘s monastery to trekking down the hills and walking down the alleys of McLeod Ganj . 

It was mystical to hear the Lamas chant their prayers turning the prayer wheels slowly . The green moss wrapped rocks and the ivy clinging to the walls was absolutely enthralling . It seemed like a slice of Tibet transported to India . The cafe’s on the slopes of the little town had interesting names like ‘ chocolate log ‘ etc. 

 

The by lanes beckoned to tourists with fascinating curios mostly the Tibetan kinds . As you came down from McLeod Ganj you would not miss a grand old church built during the British era called very relevantly as the ‘. St John’s church in the wilderness ‘ ! It is located in a wooded , lonesome area with a large cemetery where rests the souls of more than 18000 people of all ages who perished in the horrendous earthquake .The epitaphs touch many a chord of my heart and I literally lived those grim times all over again . Besides this , the tomb of Lord Elgin one of the viceroys of the East India Company is also inside the church premises. The 5000 odd year old BHAGSUNAG temple is a must see too . It is just a few kms away from McLeod Ganj . 

Winters brought in a lot of snow especially the year we were there. Water froze in the pipes , electric lines were knocked down for over a week and we lived by the light of a petromax 24/7 , with water being ferried from a spring close by. The pine cones gathered by my son during the good weather came to good use to light up our fire places .Undeterred by this tangible misery ,our spirits were high with our family ‘s first initiation to snow , frost and black ice.

It was so exciting at the prospect of making a snow man for my son with all the heaped up snow that lay around . We hammered the snow into shape right at our entrance and dressed him up handsomely with my husband’s cap , tie and scarf knowing for sure that this would surely come under tremendous flak and sure it did ! The minute my husband saw it , he shrieked in disbelief. “ why couldn’t you guys use the best of your clothes to dress this clown up “ ? We scrambled for firing cover ! To add to the histrionics his ‘ runner ‘ ( the office help ) chose that auspicious moment to hand over few files to the Saab . When he saw our carrot nosed , marble eyed snowman shine in the moon with his scarf fluttering in the wind ; he ran away shouting in chaste Nepali “ Saab ko kotha ma booth rahecha “ !! ( there is a ghost in sir ‘s house ).

I truly miss those wonderful days , so tranquil , so surreal ! I miss my son ‘s innocent boyhood days when our lives seemed out of a children’s story book ; mother and son partners in crime ! Such a contented life without other major distractions children of today have . Sheer unadulterated fun.

Where Ravana is God and the Buddha is Lord

One more country off my bucket list, I wrote on Facebook as we were driving to the aerodrome on our way to the Emerald Isle. We were all spruced up as a family for an ecstatic experience that was coming our way. The 55 minute Sri Lanka airlines flight landed us in Colombo the capital of the stunning island country.

We had a whole week to explore and assimilate the varied experiences Sri Lanka had to offer. As we mostly do, we decided to drive. This time from Colombo to the untouched east. Though it was a long drive it was an exhilarating experience. The coconut palms, the lush green paddy fields and the lakes made us feel exuberant. Nature’s abundant beauty !

Dambulla was one first stops which is known for the monastery of the  Golden Buddha and a cave temple that dates back to the 12th century. We were there at midday and the golden Buddha was dazzling in the sunlight. Indeed a visual marvel.

From Dambulla, we headed to Trincomalee on the East Coast, the land of the turquoise green ocean. En route we pulled up for a few pictures of the resplendent, lake at Kantalai. Very picturesque and serene with a fishing boat lazily bobbing up and down against the fading glow of an alluring sunset. A photographers delight !

If your intent is to spend a delightful beach holiday on an unspoiled seashore with soft sands, gentle waters, and balmy weather; it is Trinco for you! It has two prominent beaches Nilaveli and Upuveli, besides of course the Pigeon Island. We decided to stop over at Nilaveli. The suite we stayed at the hotel was indeed a room with a view! It faced the ocean on three sides and was ethereal. Gazing at the sea with changing  bands of blue and green depending on the suns rays was divine. The sea was a shimmering blue at day as though the stars were taking a walk on the water. It changed colors so rapidly from blue to green and aquamarine. Fort Frederick is a historical old Dutch fort in Trinco with the Sea cocooned on three sides. The cool waters lashing against the rocks and breaking into a froth added to the beauty of this ancient fortress.

From Trincomalee we headed towards Kandy. It is the religious and cultural center of Sri Lanka. The secret tooth relic here is believed to be that of the Buddha which was supposed to have been smuggled into Sri Lanka by a princess hidden in her tresses. The world-famous Perahera festival is held here once a year. The sacred tooth is placed in a golden casket that is placed on a brilliantly caparisoned elephant. Many decorated elephants form part of this revered procession which is heralded by thousands of drummers and masked dancers. This procession goes all around the beautiful city of Kandy. It is an opulent sight to behold. Kandy also happens to be one of the oldest cities of Sri Lanka.

Kandy to Sigiriya was a charming journey with enchanting landscapes. Sigiriya is  an ancient rock fortress with a citadel, moat and murals A silent spectator to the vagaries of time. It is indeed a stunning edifice that makes you wonder how it could have been ever constructed at such a height with such finesse during such primeval times. The topmost part of the fort had a huge lion head with the four legs replete with huge claws below. Unfortunately, the head  according to locals had fallen off but the four legs still remain. A mesmerizing piece of art.

Our final destination was Colombo the capital of erstwhile Ceylon. It is surrounded by natural wetlands and lots of greenery. Short trips to GALLE & BENTOTA is worth every penny spent. Galle is famous for the old Dutch fort which is a UNESCO heritage site. Bentota has sandy stretches of beach with white sands, restful with a tangible sense of serenity. Sunset at Bentota is like a kaleidoscope transforming from pinks to orange and gold slowly melting into the deep west. It is ideal for swimming with the scintillating salty sea breeze blowing against you.

In case you are interested to carry home souvenirs, there is a variety you cannot keep off your itinerary . Though I must warn you that the cost is pretty steep. You will be spoiled for choice. Sri Lankan tea is excellent in case you are an avid tea drinker like me. 

Noritake, the famous crockery manufacturer, is worth a visit. Batik is another item worth putting into your shopping basket. Precious and semi precious stones are also a hallmark of Sri Lanka. Like in South India, oil lamps called Pahan are famous and also available for sale.

Seafood lovers, this is a one-stop destination where you can relish different kinds of culinary fare. Without a visit to the Ministry of crab, their flagship restaurant, your seafood cravings will never be satiated. It is a must visit not just for the delicately flavored food but also the ambience and the personal touch. The old Dutch hospital premises has been converted to house this premier restaurant to give it an old world charm. They have retained the structure with very few modifications.

Do pay your tribute to the fallen soldier of the Indian peacekeeping force (IPKF). The monument etched with names of our valiant martyrs whose blood fell on a foreign land, makes your heart thump in muted silence. A reverence beyond compare!

As usual, this was another enchanting holiday. Lived and relived every moment, creating lots of memories for posterity!

Vardaan - the Boon!

When life throws some grey moments, you can also expect some beautiful surprises to follow. Though these may be far and few, they leave an indelible stamp on your inward eye forever!

The pandemic brought untold misery to the world including our family and is still weaving its black veil across the globe. Yet I had something to thank God for - the birth of our first grandchild. Even though none of us could go across to help my daughter , she was blessed with a ‘work from home’ for the entire 9 months of her pregnancy, had plenty of rest and was able to have nourishing food and attention from my son. She enjoyed the 9 months without any stress, not even morning sickness.

The first scan I saw of my little grandie, was just a small dot. And instantly, I started calling him ‘Dotto’ . Soon Dotto started filling up the womb and became quite a busy and active baby. We would wait each day for his news and would keep imagining what he would be like. 

Months galloped and soon we had a virtual baby shower with the entire family. We started looking out for unusual baby names. One thing for sure was that we wanted a traditional Indian name with a strong meaning specially since the probability of him living in a different continent was high. Soon the purchases began .The registers started filling up with names and so did the registry . 

Ah! Those were such interesting days - so much to look forward to! We suddenly realised that time was closing on us and there was still tons to be done, especially since he was coming in the middle of a huge pandemic. Finally, the new furniture moved in , the nursery was done up and the bags for the hospital were packed and ready near the door, just waiting for the baby to press the alarm.

We were trying to fit into the shoes of the most coveted role of our lives - as grandparents. Eventually the countdown began. Since no alarm bells rang, our daughter was taken to the hospital. Video calls kept coming in one after the other and our perpetual question was - do you have any pain? I almost thought that the little one would be born on my son’s birthday . But he was born a day later almost at the same time as his father.

A little angel who lights up our lives like the first beam of the sun’s rays that spills its gold through the skylight - The cutest and sweetest grandson I could have ever wished for, an absolute Vardaan to our family, as his name suggests. 

At last we were able to meet our bundle of joy in the third week of June when he turned 9 months. While our children worked from home, the little boy kept adjusting to his new environment, just as we were trying to handle him with kid gloves. It seemed like redrafting the babyhood of my son. The feeding bottles, little toys, the baby gurgles and cries, the bathtub and the baby wipes, all seemed to have re-visited our home after taking a full circle. 

I realised how different each child is, even though they may belong to the same zodiac sign as one of the parents. While he kept learning , he was teaching us many a lesson too. Our little man is a huge bag of fun and laughter. He keeps us amused with his dancing, his little actions. He notices every little thing like he has magnifying glasses. He babbles a lot now and has his little vocabulary of 3-4 letter words, which he generously shoots at us. Such a marvel of God’s creation! 

By the blessing of God, we have been lucky to have him with us for four full months, again thanks to the pandemic. He came to our home wheeled in a pram and now he is running all around at supersonic speeds. He knows every nook and cranny and our day is made when he swoops into our arms. Our life these days unconditionally rallies around this lovely child.

He will be leaving soon and I know we will be in the doldrums once again without his captivating demeanour. We will miss the pitter patter of his soft feet all over the house, his gurgles and innocent looks. I guess a bane of the nuclear family system and the distances in between. I have already started wondering what he will be up to when we see him next.

Good luck my darling Varu, till we meet again! Know that as you are growing up, we are growing younger to keep pace with you and your pranks!

WOMEN CREATE and COMPLETE !

A very happy women’s day to you !

I recently went through a lot of messages where uplifting the woman was the main thrust. 

Commonly we discuss how men put down women and thrust their whimsical behaviour on them . But I was thinking of another parallel aspect concerning WOMEN . Do we realise that in many households despite the status, women hold the hands of men in ill treating another woman !

Examples are aplenty . The man blames the woman for bearing a girl child but when it comes to cursing the mother of the child, women join the men and why may I ask ? They themselves are women .Where has all that love and compassion gone ? The same mother has a different yardstick for the son and the daughter . How does her conscience allow it ? So susceptible to the make believe societal pressures ??

Another big menace in society is DOWRY. Why don’t the women of most households oppose it vehemently ? Why as a MIL or SIL do you want to count the nuggets and compare and contrast with illiterate people in society ? If I give something that I can afford to my daughter, it is ONLY for her and her only . Why does my daughter become someone lesser by not making her in laws richer ?

Why does a SON become a useless fellow if he stands up for his wife and points the mistakes in you, the mother or other sisters in law ? Don't you as the matriarch of the family have to take a rightful stand ?

Why do we as  educated women allow ourselves to be put down ? The first time somebody pushes you under water , you may take in a few gulps. But that should be the end of it . Keep yourself strong and formidable .

As Gandhiji said “ You must be the change you want to see in the world”.  A woman is a strong instrument of transformation. Literacy is the ability to read and write but true education is the ability to put it into behaviour and action. Let it begin in your very HOME!

REMEMBER, REAL QUEENS ADJUST EACH OTHER’S CROWNS !!!!