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Can Tho: Call from the Mekong Delta

Posted on April 3, 2020 by Samar 3 comments

The boy from the River Manvar banks was back in Mekong Delta, ditching Da Nang, the up and arrived beach destination in Asia for the second time in a row within an year. No, he had nothing against the Seas. They always fascinated him. He now lives by the sea, in Hong Kong.

Onwards to Cai Rang Floating Market, biggest in the Mekong Delta

But the rivers are where the boy feels at home. Born and brought up in the foothills of the Himalayas, in the Gangetic plains also called Doaab, deltas are the place he belonged to. Places where everything revolved around the water earlier, most still does. He remembered the Monsoons: longingly waited for and scared off. Come, folk songs would plead the Gods of rains, but just enough to get us super crops, not to drown us, cut us off from the rest of the world for months.

As it is, he had realised that at the end of the day, every travellers seeks to find the home left behind somewhere deep within. Oh yeah- a quick note on Doaab- it literally means 2 waters- do is 2 and Aab is water in Arabic. That’s why Punjab is Punjab at both sides of the border- 5 waters, meaning 5 rivers. However much borders try to divide, rivers find a way to sneak out and unite. They just know how to.

This was what had brought the small boy to Can Tho, the biggest city in Mekong Delta and the fourth largest in Vietnam. The delta, like all other delta, has a fabulous history. Prehistory, actually, as almost all of the earliest human settlements started in deltas only just like the Indus Valley one.

The most fascinating thing about Can Tho, though, is that its past has a bridge to reach its present- a bridge called river Hậu River, a distributary of the mighty Mekong with its floating markets just like they were 300 years ago! Okay, the boats have become motorised, the wholesale ones jetties, many of them are now electrified and there are even floating (on the boats) petrol pumps! Everything else is the same: predawn rush of the wholesalers to these real floating markets with a bamboo pole with something hanging on the top- denoting what is that boat selling. If it’s fish then fish, vegetables then vegetables and if nothing- then boat itself!! Then come the boats selling breakfast and boats of retailers. Oh yeah and now also many tourists and some travelers too!

Cai Rang floating market in full glory. This one is the biggest in Mekong Delta and essentially a wholesale market. Just a 15 minutes boa — Cai Rang floating market in full glory

Same are the orchards inside, well connected with beautiful, almost mystic canals shaded by the coconut and palm trees, and the villages making rice paper, and so many other things, enough for one to get lost there alone for days.

Canals linking villages, lives, economy, everything

Can Tho is not only about these floating markets though. It has equally enchanting night markets 4 of them- open all night, by the way, unlike many night markets across the word, Go and eat traditional delicacies there like a local. Or head to the cacao farms reminding you of your own mango orchards lost in the villages left behind, many even having homestays- basic enough to take you on a trip down the memory lane.

Then there are magnificent temples, really intricate and different from one another unlike most of our run of the mill Shivalas and Mosques you can’t even differentiate from one another.

Doing all this, you would pass by the Can Tho Grand Prison many a times. Hardy enough to believe in justice. It is for you. A backpacker drunk on youth, or a tourist which ended up there in a tour: do go, it would sober you down.

Did I even talk about the hidden gem? Remember the 1992’s French Erotica Movie, The Lover, that took the world by storm, nay, sensuality? That helped bringing erotica inn Most of it was shot in Can Tho, in a small town some 17 kms away, in an over 150 years old house that remains the same even today!I had seen The Lover as a young adult, with the tape tucked inside my shirt smuggled into a friend’s house in 1997 or so in Allahabad. There I was in the house, I knew ever since.

This was the locale of the 1992 French Erotic classic, The Lover: It is called as Binh Thuy Ancient House, and also Binh Thuy Communal House — Locale of the 1992 French Erotic classic, The Lover: Binh Thuy Ancient House

Gosh! I forgot Ninh Kieu Wharf, I went to every single day there! Overlooked by a really tall statue Uncle Ho, as Ho Chi Minh is called across the country? It runs parallel to the river with a beautifully decorated bridge to itself, not going anywhere, just, to walk by the river and remember your own Manvar, 4400 kms away.

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Babhnan Boy: Milestone Zero

Posted on April 2, 2020 by Samar 7 comments

Aboard a ro-ro ferry on the mighty Mekong river, the young man thought of Manvar, a small rivulet 4,800 kms away, seeing a small boy swimming in it decades ago. Stupid, no?

Circa 2010: The small boy from Babhnan aboard a ro-ro ferry in Phnom Penh

No. Be they in Bombay or Beijing, small town kids never go anywhere alone. Wherever they go, they go with their homes lost behind in their villages, Kasbahs or small towns. You can see that in their eyes- that sudden wetness that gives them away with all their longings and belongings. They might be proud of their journeys or disappointed with themselves, they would suddenly look away, seeking refuge in the same lost villages they grew up in. No matter what exiled them- be it hunger, war or career, their lost homes are the cross they carry alone.

Be it distress migration for the poor ones or chasing dreams for the more fortunate, the small town kids are destined for exile. Just like that young man aboard that Ro Ro Ferry in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

The school in Babhnan in which I studied till 8th grade now

They know that despite all the speeches by the great leaders promising them the moon, they don’t get even proper roads that can connect Delhi with their villages. They know that they are the past of the country, running behind the metros by decades. They know that bridges don’t connect the past with the future, they only make fortunes for those promising these bridges!

They know that they would have to go, leaving all the memories behind and chase their dreams in places that could be anything, but would never become home.

The small boy from Babhnan knew this. He knew that every passing year is another year close to exile, that began at 12, just 12 when he was sent to a boarding school in nearby Gorakhpur. Home was no longer home, it was just a holiday. Holi, Diwali, Dussehra, Summer Vacations. His own agricultural fields were no longer his playfields where he would steal tractor rides. The “Middle School” Cricket ground in Babhnan that seemed like the biggest possible in the world had suddenly changed to a joke, a tiny joke on that, on the name of a cricket ground.

Slowly, the small town kids’ school bags would start getting heavier and their ‘holiday visits’ fewer. Gorakhpur for secondaries would change to Allahabad for grads, Allahabad to JNU for Research, Delhi to Hong Kong for work. With every dislocation changing friends, acquaintances, neighbors, everything.

Ironically, exile was never the saddest part of the story. It was the small boy from Babhnan not knowing that this a one way road- a point of no real returns. That those who fail and return would looked upon for their lives. That those who ‘succeed’ would have hardly any time for returning- for taking that stroll on the railway station that once defined their lives: that set them on the path of chasing their dreams as far as those trains could go. The same one from which this small boy from Babhnan started dreaming of traveling the world and telling the tales.

His friends listened to him with rapt attention about the places they had never travelled to. The places this small boy hadn’t either, the places whose details he pieced together with the: names of the trains and where they go with information he got from his parents, their colleagues, newspapers, name it.

So success or failure, these kids would be sort of jinxed, of not returning. Mahesh would better become Mat and work as a cyber collie, Lalita as Linda, is she was fortunate enough in a patriarchal society to be allowed to chase her dreams, they would dread to return.

And when they would for the occasional visits- nothing would be the same. The most promising kid in their class would have become a grocer they would have nothing much to talk about. The best batsman in their team would be selling medicines. And they both would be uncomfortable with the small boy from Babhnan’s success, the small boy with loss. Of the home. Forever.

Only mercy? He would be taking Babhnan to places, making that nondescript mofussil town, a mere blur on the map of the country known around, even if in his own smaller circles.

At the Babhnan Railway Station, this January

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उस लड़के ने अंगकोर वाट पे सूरज उगते देखा है!

Posted on June 12, 2018 by Samar 7 comments

दूसरी बार आए हैं यहाँ- आप्रवासन अधिकारी ने पूछा था।

हाँ, 8 साल बाद- मेरे जवाब पर वो हँस पड़ा था। और मैं सोच रहा था कि ‘स्टेट’ कहीं की हो, सब जानती है! पिछला पासपोर्ट ‘एक्सपायर’ हुए ज़माने हुए, इस वाले में वो वीज़ा नहीं था। फिर भी.

ख़ैर, उतरते जहाज़ से बाहर दिख रहा नज़ारा बता रहा था कि फ़्नोम पेन्ह (या नामपेन्ह? कुछ ख़ास नहीं बदला है। नीचे अब भी सड़कें बहुत कम थीं, मेकांग अब भी उतनी ही विशाल दिखती है, और सामने दिख रहे शहर में बहुमंज़िला इमारतें अब भी गिनी चुनी ही थीं- 2008 की पिछली यात्रा से शायद बस दो तीन ही बढ़ी हों।

कमाल ये कि एयरपोर्ट के बीचोंबीच अब भी एक छोटा सा तालाब है- ठीक वैसे जैसे पिछली बार था- शुक्र है टैक्सीवे के बग़ल, रनवे के नहीं। और हवाई अड्डा अब भी उतना ही छोटा था जितनी पिछली बार, जिसे देख तब भी रायपुर हवाई अड्डा याद आया था! (आज भी नहीं समझ आता कि रायपुर ही क्यों याद आया, कोई और छोटा हवाई अड्डा क्यों नहीं दसियों पर तो उतरा हूँ मैं! और कमाल- हवाई जहाज़ से सामान निकालने के लिए अब भी ट्रैक्टर ही था। अंदर अब भी वैसे व्यस्त नज़र आते अधिकारी थे जैसे व्यस्त केवल आप्रवासन अधिकारी ही नज़र आ सकते हैं। इमिग्रेशन से 10 मीटर से भी कम दूरी में नज़र आती कन्वेयर बेल्ट्स थीं, और अगले 10 में ख़त्म हो जाता अराइवल लाउंज!
हम फिर से कंबोडिया आ पहुँचे थे.

पर एक बड़ा फ़र्क़ था इस बार. वेलकम टू कंबोडिया- स्टैम्प के साथ पासपोर्ट लौटाते हुए इमीग्रेशन ऑफिसर ने कहा था और भागते ख़यालों को पल भर का ब्रेक लग गया था और एक नया सफर शुरू हो गया था!

This is just before the sunrise…

अबकी बार की यात्रा अंगकोर वाट के लिए थी. उस अंगकोर वाट के लिए जो दुनिया का सबसे बड़ा मंदिर परिसर है, जिससे पहली मुठभेड़ यूपी बोर्ड की छठवीं की हिन्दी की पाठ्य पुस्तक ज्ञान भारती (या सातवीं की? या आठवीं की?) में हुई थी, जिससे जाना था कि ये भगवान विष्णु के लिए 12वीं सदी में बनाया गया था. भारत के नक़्शे पर धुंधलके भर तक न दिखने वाले पूर्वी उत्तर प्रदेश के उस बड़े से गाँव में पढ़ते हुए तब कुछ नहीं पता था कि ऐसे मंदिर को देखने पर कैसा लगेगा!

तब तो खैर ये भी कहाँ पता था कि भगवन विष्णु के लिए बनाया गया ये मंदिर बढ़ते बढ़ते बौद्ध विहार हो गया था. हाँ, धान और गेंहूं के खेतों के रास्ते स्कूल जाने वाले उस गंवई लड़के तो तब भी ये पता था कि एक दिन उसे अंगकोर वाट देखना ही देखना है. कैसे भी! पर बस, देखना है!

और अब बहुत पतझड़ बाद वो लड़का नाम पेन्ह में खड़ा था- अंगकोर वाट से पहली डेट को तैयार!

लड़का दोपहर की फ्लाइट से उतरा था, देर रात नाम पेन से कुछ 6 घंटे दूर सिएम रीप (या सियाम रीप?) की ‘स्लीपर’ बस लेने को. लड़के के भीतर के शातिर बैकपैकर ने सालों की ऐसी यात्राओं में ऐसे करतब सीख लिए थे जिनसे कम पैसे में ज़्यादा घूमने को मिले। ऐसे की दिन भर वो नाम पेन घूमें जहाँ दशक भर बाद आये थे, और जिससे पहली मुठभेड़ ने उस वामपंथी को भीतर तक हिला दिया था. हाँ- नाम पेन से पहली मुठभेड़ उस लड़के की ‘मेरे नाम में नहीं’ वाले भाव से भी पहली मुलाक़ात थी, इस भाव के सोशल मीडिया पर हैश टैग बन जाने के सालों पहले!

पर इस बार लड़के को अपनी कंबोडिया से डेट को उदास नहीं करना था! इस बार चाओ पोनहिया यात हाईस्कूल, यानी तुओल स्लेंग जनसंहार संग्रहालय, उर्फ एस 21 बनने के पहले के स्कूल का नाम और किलिंग फील्ड्स दोनों को आखिरी दिन के लिए रखना था! पिछली सिहरन अब भी याद जो थी! स्मृति में ठीक-ठीक दर्ज है कि पांवों ने तब उस इमारत में घुसने से इनकार सा कर दिया था, कि खुद को लगभग घसीट कर अंदर घुसना पड़ा था। दिमाग में बस एक बात चल रही थी- न, ये कत्ल हम वामपंथियों के नाम पर किए गए हैं। कि भले हजारों किलोमीटर दूर एक दूसरे देश के वासी सही, इन हत्याओं में हमारी भी भूमिका है! खैर, न जाने कैसे खुद को खींच के में खींच लाने पर पहला स्वागत कब्रों ने किया था। उन लोगों की कब्रों ने जो खमेर रूज सरकार के पतन के चंद रोज पहले मार डाले गए थे।

सो लड़के ने एक बार जोर से सर झटक ज़ेहन को वापस अंगकोर वाट खींच लाने की कोशिश की, जाकर बस कंपनी के ऑफिस में सामान रखा- और फिर निकल पड़ा- वापस उस मेकांग के किनारे घूमने जिसे उसने सालों पहले देखा था, जहाँ गंगा से अपना नाम लेने वाली इस नदी पर उसे अपनी मनवर याद आयी थी! वहाँ से निकल फिर रसियन मार्किट जहाँ रसियन भले ही एक भी न मिलते हों, कंबोडिया खूब मिलता है! उसके बाद रो रो फेरी से (वही जो मोदी गुजरात चुनाव जीतने के लिए लाये थे पर जो चली आज तक नहीं) से सिल्क आइलैंड जाना, वाट नाम (नाम मंदिर) जाना पर इन सब पे बातें अगली किसी पोस्ट में! रात के साढ़े दस बज आये थे, लड़के को सिएम रीप की बस पकड़नी थी.

देखना था कि अंगकोर वाट पर उगते सूरज के जिस दृश्य ने ट्रेवल बुक्स में लाखों पन्ने गला दिए वो सच में उतना शानदार है या फिर ये बस ऐसे ही एक और जुमला निकलेगा! अपनी आँखों से ये देखने का वक़्त आ गया था!

और यकीन करिये, जब देखा तो पलकों ने झपकने से इंकार कर दिया! तिकी रहीं, एकटक! 800 साल से ज़्यादा पुरानी उस भव्य इमारत, दरअसल इमारतों को काले अँधेरे से सुनहली चमक में बदलते देखने के बाद उतना सुन्दर कुछ शायद नहीं ही देखना था! कभी नहीं! या फिर देखना था- है! वापस इसी अंगकोर वाट में किसी रोज़! कहते हैं कि अंगकोर पे हर मौसम में अलग सूरज उगता है. सबसे सुन्दर बारिशों के मौसम में! तब जब सब हरा हो जाता है.

लौट आयेंगे किसी बारिश में फिर, लड़के ने सोचा था!

Hindi

I have seen the sun rising on the Angkor Wat….

Posted on June 11, 2018 by Samar 6 comments

Second time in here? Asked the Immigration Officer at the Phnom Penh International Airport (អាកាសយានដ្ឋានអន្តរជាតិពោធិ៍ចិនតុង in Khmer).

The Glory of Dawn

Yeah, I replied. Smiling. Another travel was about to begin with the stamp announcing the beginning of another travel and this time it was for Angkor Wat, world’s largest temple complex originally constructed in 12th century as a Hindu Temple but slowly becoming a Buddhist one over the years. With no idea about what to expect when I finally meet this behemoth of a temple decades ago in the small mofussil kasba I grew up.

This is just before the sunrise…

Yeah, it was there in the Hindi Text Book of class 6th of our UP Board, formally the Board of High School and Intermediate Education, Uttar Pradesh. Of course it was there in Gyan Bharti sans the information of it having slowly become Buddhist, something I was to discover later on. What I did know even then, back as a lanky kid who went to school via wheat and paddy fields that one day I have to go there and see Angkor Wat for sure. Whenever, but definitely. And there I was, many a autumns later- all set for my Angkor Date!

I had landed in Phnom Penh in early hours of the afternoon with a late night sleeper bus to Siem Reap, around 6 hours away from the capital city. The shrewd backpacker in me had made this plan with design- the design of using the time to roam around in Phnom Penh, a city I was visiting almost a decade after of the first one which has shaken me- a fiery Leftist from within. Yeah, that was my first encounter with Not In My Name feeling, many many rains before the times it took the social media by a storm.

And there was no way I was going to let anything ruin my date with Cambodia. So there I went, dropped by luggage at the Bus company’s office and of it was to walk by the Mekong- named after the Ganga, to Russian Market (which had no Russians though), Wat Phnom and so on.

Walking by Mekong and crossing over to the Silk Island on a Ro-Ro ferry is an experience in itself- but more on that later. It was already 10.30, the time to take the bus and start for the Temple Date!

And of course for the famed Sunrise over the Angkor Wat! Yeah, the sight is so famous that the Travel Books have burnt tonnes and tonnes of trees to debate if it is really worth it or a mere hype. I was to find it out on my own.

And believe me, I was floored once I saw it. I have never seen anything even remotely close! Never means never! Sunrise at the Angkor Wat- that’s a sight to die for. I am going there again, for sure. Perhaps in all seasons- they say that rainy seasons are the best to see Angkor Wat getting taken over by greenery so may be in the rains!

Here are the pictures of that sunrise!