Tag: keepwandering

Kite Festival in Ahmedabad

By Sanjeev Goel

Last night at 10:00 PM, I had caught the Gujarat Mail from Dadar (Mumbai). It’s now 6:00 AM and the train has reached The Manchester of India – Ahmedabad, slowing down as it approaches the railway station. As I look out of the train window and shut my travel log, I expect to see the tall smokestacks associated with big textile mills and industries.

As I look out of the puny three-wheeler autorickshaw speeding away from the railway station, I espy a lot of Mughal architecture – minarets, big and small, right near the railway station; interesting fort gates looming tall through which we ride; beautiful mosques et al – my first impression being that this surely must be a city with a lot of Mughal history, now transformed into a terribly crowded commercial hub. The driver, I must say, was either an ex-Ferrari driver or was imagining a cyclone following him. With both his hands gripped on the steering to weave-brake-zoom and honk, his foot would jut out first one way and then the other. It was only later when I saw other auto-drivers doing the same at road-intersections, that I deciphered that he wasn’t loosing his balance but merely using his foot to signal a turn!

As we crossed one of the bridges spanning the Sabarmati River, an interesting iron structure, we entered onto wide roads and a more disciplined traffic. My roving eyes could not help noticing the high frequency of teenaged girls riding sleek scooters among the crowded traffic, most of them riding double!

The rickshaw finally deposits me to the required address, after a 30-minute ride. Mr. and Mrs. Shah give me a warm welcome and call out to their son and daughter-in-law who along with the building’s neighbours can be heard whooping and shouting on the terrace – and the big day (Uttrayan) is tomorrow!

It’s now evening and Ankit (Shah Jr.) and wife Namrata are eagerly tying strings to about 40 kites. They intensely measure each knot before tying it tight and teach me how to do it the ‘only way’. The thread is wound round a cylindrical object referred to as ‘Firkee’. The thread itself is thickly coated with finely shred glass – the practice so that in the air their kites fight to reign supreme by cutting the clutter of the rest of the kites within reach. In fact, I can’t wait to see these “dogfights”

5:00 AM – I am awakened by shouts of joy and the din of cymbals (it’s later that I discover that what sounded like cymbals, were in fact big spoons being struck onto big steel plates – all from the household’s kitchen.) Surprised and curious, I rush out to find its Ankit and Namrata on the terrace already bathed and ready, flying kites!

By 9:00 AM, the sky is dotted all over by colourful kites. The terraces, as far as the eye can see, are choc-a-bloc with people of all ages. A kite swoops down, another sweeps a wide arc, yet another float by, and the ears reverberate to the sounds of victory, challenge and joy! The most common shouts are ‘Kaadey’ and ‘Kaapiyo chhe’. Irrespective of cuts on index fingers of most of the kite-flyers, the enthusiasm and the killer-instinct has to be seen to be believed!

Lunch is served by the ladies on the terrace itself – the speciality is a spicy vegetable preparation called ‘Oondhiya’ with ‘puris’. Like other terraces, ours too is blaring away the latest Hindi film hits on a 1000W stereo system. I am simply overwhelmed – all through the day, squinting into the hot sun, the shouting and the enthusiasm just does not seem to wane. As the sun sets, the music goes on but as visibility becomes poor, one by one the kites are all drawn in! Dinner is a lively community affair, with good natured teasing and counts of ‘kills’- the number of kites “cut”

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As dinner ends, I find people making a bee-line for their respective terraces once again. The sight that greets me as I come onto the terrace is awe-inspiring. The sky is dotted with lamps hung onto flying kites, with some kites carrying upto a dozen lamps like lights up a mountain trail! These lamps, called ‘Tukkals,’ are light – made of paper with candles in the centre. This time there are no kite-fights in the air, but as more and more lamps dot the blackness, the stars seem to have descended onto earth! As if this experience in itself was not enough, the Shahs also took me the next day to Akshardham – a huge complex of a contemporary Swami Narayan temple with beautifully well laid out gardens and hi-tech museum at Gandhinagar. On the way back we stopped at the exquisite step-well of Adalaj.

Jan 16, and I am on my way back to Mumbai….

(Sanjeev Goel is fond of dumb charade and travel, but insists that on journeys sleep is essential)

5 Tips for Nubra Valley in Ladakh

By Abhik Dutta

 

There are many valleys in the Himalayan range that just take your breath away because of their sheer beauty and magnificence. Many of these valleys are, however, on trek routes beyond the reach of many who are unable to walk to these heights. And those that are approachable by road are sometimes, more often than not, one of those tourist attractions that inspite of their beauty are pockmarked with tourists walking all over the place during the “season months. At times don’t we really wish we had a vale all to ourselves?

This wish of mine was granted during my first visit to Nubra Valley in Ladakh a few years back. Crossing the great Khardung La (18380ft), the JKSRTC bus meandered on the endless mountain track till suddenly the Shyok river valley opened up beneath us. Nothing had prepared me for the first sight, which I guess, has remained glued to me like the many monasteries that have for decades clung on to those barren and majestic slopes of the Nubra. There below us to the right the glistening river snaked its way through the wide gorge. Slowly as the entire panorama of the valley opened up ahead of us, the sheer setting, beauty and magnitude of the Nubra left me awestruck.

After the lunch halt at Khalsar (10080ft) at the mouth of the valley, we entered a flat stretch of road with the enormous valley unraveling itself like a plot from a Hitchcock novel. We followed the turbulent and muddy Shyok and as it grew wider, so did the valley. We soon came to a bifurcation, the right fork leading to the villages of Sumur, Tegar and Panamic and onwards to the Siachen glacier; the left fork going to the villages of Diskit and Hundar. We took the left fork.

Over the next few days I stayed with local families and explored the valley on my own, my trusted backpack and camera slung across my back, my worries and moods scattered all over beyond the Saser glaciers..beyond Turtuk..beyond the mighty Siachen hidden behind the mountains to the north.

At Diskit, the little children were a revelation. Five tiny ones, they emerged from the forest. Prancing around me they led me to their school, introduced me to their teachers and little friends with permanently flowing noses that would put the Shyok to shame. Later they ran with me to their waterhole, where the clear stream water collected for a while before slipping over the log into the adjoining fields. Here, they stripped naked and jumped into the pool- their innocent laughter reverberating across the valley and right into my soul. Bidding them a fond farewell, I moved on deeper towards the end of the pasture, past farms hidden from sight by tall thorny shrubs. Suddenly the path opened up and an amazing sight unfolded! A rolling meadow with a stream running through it! Horses and cows grazed peacefully. This was no man’s land really. Here nature danced to the tune of chirping birds, trees swayed in the breeze echoing a haunting whisper across the meadow. Rocks whispered magic words that made the stream water gurgle with laughter. I sat and watched the sun setting gradually over the distant peaks, casting long shadows in the valley and removing some from my mind.

The days came and went and I clung on to each moment, each passing hour hoping against hope that the sun would never set and my long carefree walks would never end. I just didn’t want to arrive anywhere. Each day began early and ended well past the time when the villagers would turn off the lights and go off to sleep. I’d walk out of the room with a blanket wrapped tightly around me and gaze at the stars that shone so brightly, so close and so gently that I wondered why I searched for my God in a temple when he stared at me all the while from aboveAnd so it went. One hour overlapping the next, one mile extending into another. I hiked to the gompa at Hundar perched high above the bridge with a mesmerizing view of the valley beneath. I saw the monastery at Diskit and the impressive Shamstelling gompa at Sumur, rode across the dunes on the double humped bactrian camel that I hired from Abdul Razzak for a paltry Rs.150, got invited (and later drunk) at the delightfully amateurish Tegar village festival, and devoured the not so tasty “skiu” and the unpalatable “khambhir” served by my new found friends. T. Dorje taught me how easy it is to make friends and how a wonderful friendship can last all of one day. Perched precariously on his Bajaj Chetak, I went all over Panamic village and to his small dwelling where we shared his lunch and his many stories of Ladakh. He walked me to the hot springs, to his workshop where he taught the locals carpentry and introduced me to the locals as “mera Bambe ka dost.”

I left Sumur early one morning at 6am. I kept my money on a makeshift table in my room and slipped out of the house quietly so as not to wake up my wonderful hosts. I walked over to the village bus stand across the road. For an hour I sat there on a culvert watching a remote mountain village wake up to the sounds of a new day. I drifted in and out of moments that made up my days in the valley. The distant drone of an automobile jerked me from my reverie and slowly I stood up, dusted my pants and as the jeep rumbled towards me I stuck my thumb out in the direction of Leh.

Snippets for the traveller:

1.  Nubra Valley is best visited in July and August. Situated at an altitude of 10,000ft (the road never going above 10500 ft), it is warm and sunny during the day and pleasantly cold at night. The Nubra winter is harsh and almost unbearable for people not used to the plummeting mercury. Although the road through Khardungla is open throughout the year (as Nubra is also the gateway to Siachen glacier and the border post of Turtuk) it is not advisable to venture in there during the other months without proper arrangements.

2. One should spend a min of 3-4 days at the valley staying 2 nits at Diskit or Hundar and 2 nits at Sumur, Tegar or Tirath. Spend the first 2-3 nights at Leh, get acclimatized and only then venture the 7hr drive to Nubra.

3. One can stay in simple and basic lodges run by the local families. For those who to travel in comfort and style, a jeep safari is recommended with stay in deluxe campsites available at Tegar and Tirath which are open in July and August.

4. Inner line permits are required to visit the valley considering its proximity to the border. Permits can be obtained in Leh from the DM office.

5. Must see in Nubra is the “jheel” between Panamic and Tegar. Ask a local for directions. While going to Panamic, you will have to get off the road to the left, drive to a point after which the sand will not allow the vehicle to go any further. Thereafter, start walking in the direction of the grayish black mountain crossing a 1ft deep brook on the way. The “jheel” or the pond has a religious significance. Sitting on the banks one can see many reflections on the water. Some have seen a monastery, some a deity, some their future and most nothing. I believe the art of seeing something in there is to go with tremendous faith.

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