Travel | The Colour of Blur

Tag Archives: Travel

India: From Bharat and back

Posted on April 10, 2020 by Samar 3 comments

Statutory Warning: This post might read very narcissistic as it is essentially about a very personal journey.

The small boy from Babhnan was very sad looking at things happening in India, 3700 kms away from Hong Kong. Lakhs of migrant labours thrown on the roads in the middle of the Covid 19 lockdown, people starving, doctors being abused and attacked, slums in eerie silence,a religion being vilified and his own friends- urbane, middle and upper middle class locked in, getting depressed.

Small boy from Babhnan in front of his village house

It was essentially a journey back. From India to Bharat.

Sounds strange? As the constitution asserts that it is India that is Bharat, no? Yeah, in the constitution it is. Just like untouchability is banned and is a cognizable criminal offence in the same constitution. Believe it or not, traveling to India from Bharat is perhaps one of the longest, and the most arduous journeys, one can take upon. Even the far more fortunate ones like the small boy from Babhnan who ticked every box right barring one- so called upper caste? Right, in fact in a landed, locally dominant family. Male? Right? Father in government service? Right, actually a professor, even mom is a school principal. Born in a big town? Sorry, NO.

Yeah. It was a long and arduous journey even for a boy from a privileged family. The one who slowly scaled all the peaks and reached where he wanted to, living a life chasing his dreams- which did never go beyond, ironically, backpacking. The boy never fancied hotels, hostels were where he belonged to- meeting fellow travellers, sharing notes, jokes and often beers too! A fallout of having lived in hostels perhaps, as a boarding student, since he was just 12.

He was wondering how difficult this journey back to Bharat for those on the roads must be. And he remembered his.

Going to Gorakhpur at mere 12 as a boarding student. Then Allahabad, at 17. And from Allahabad to Shankargarh where he worked with the Kol Tribals and Snake Charmers, and often slept on the only cot in Balanath’s family- with snakes in their baskets below it. It was a journey of no return. A journey which seldom gets recognised, let alone reaching travel stories. It was to a myriad of slums, teaching children, dreaming of a better future for them.

This was the last house standing in a village named Jhalkusum in Komna block of Nuapada,
lost to Lower Indira irrigation project in Nuapada, Odisha, in 2013. We could not save it.

Then to Jabalpur- meeting fellow travelers- the unconventional ones. From there it was to almost every nook and corner of India: going to Hyderabad for some labour protest, Ranchi for right to food agitation. Often missing the must visit places, though.

From there it was to JNU: that was to change him even more. And a journey undertaken like none other- a bus journey demanding Right to Employment. 52 days, 12 states from Delhi to Maharashtra and back. Hundreds of places- big and small- sleeping in villages under mango trees- a throwback to the summer vacations in his village by the Manvar river decades ago. The journey succeeded, by the way, with the passing of Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act, 2005. The small boy from Babhnan smiled, after very long, thinking of this.

A village in Rewa, Madhya Pradesh. This one is still standing.

The journey was interesting, along with many jailbreaks- no not the iphone ones, real as they happen with activists. Basti, Allahabad, Nuapada, Kochi, Palanpur, Hyderabad, Bengaluru, Raipur, Amarkantak, Bhadrak, Chennai, Bhuvaneshwar, Agartala, Bishrampur, Shillong, Palakkad, Lansdowne, Kaithal, Indore, Solan, Gaya, Ranchi, Nagpur, Goa, Puruliya, Guwahati, Bhilwara, Jammu, Ropar, – he remembered some of the stops, in no order though. It was a journey full of horrors, of being in boats on what were villages, full of living people and all that come along with them, now submerged by some dam. It was a journey full of hopes, of Niyamgiri people successfully saving their lands for decades.

It's a fake, laboured smile extracted out in a reservoir that once was land belonging to Reyang and Chakma Adivasis. And there was a river sacrificed at the altar of development at Dumboor Dam, Tripura. — It’s a fake, laboured smile extracted out in a reservoir that once was land belonging to Reyang and Chakma Adivasis. And there was a river sacrificed at the altar of development. — at Dumboor Dam, Tripura.

From there it was to Hong Kong, and then many places- including Kathmandu- home for over a month!

An anchor shrieking broke his chain of thoughts. He was back to the millions of journeys taking place from India to Bharat again. Journeys full of losses. Of jobs, dreams and hopes. No one wants to leave home, after all. If so many people from rural India did that, they did it under sheer compulsion. Be they privileged like the small boy writing this, or desperate- forced into distress migration. It is urban India, mostly metropolitan alone, which is their only escape route- a chance of finding a job, a life, a home- howsoever small- a shanty in a slum, home nonetheless.

This too shall pass, they would be fine. The boy tried to reassure himself. Amen.

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2020/

https://www.facebook.com/events/280869735882853/

Blogchatter

Hong Kong: Home Coming to a Harbour

Posted on April 9, 2020 by Samar 14 comments

It was a beautiful, sunny, and oh not so humid morning of March 2007 when a bright streak of light woke the boy from Babhnan with a start. He looked out of the window and it felt like the plane was about to land on water! He looked around, a little startled, saw everyone composed and so did he. A red eye flight, his first international one, he had taken 7 hours ago from Delhi had brought him to Hong Kong, the city he would soon call home.

Camping near the Tung Lung Chau Fort at the island by the same name.

Hong Kong. That was a full 6,000 years after humans first set foot in the territory. 2200 years after it became part of the Chinese Empire for the first time. 500 after the first European came here, Portugese Jorge Álvares.

Hong Kong: a jungle of concrete and grass. Where the East meets West. The financial capital of the world. And the Disneyland and the Ocean Park.

Local tip: If you must, go to the Ocean Park, it is so much better than the Disney.

This is an aerial view of the Ocean Park, the best theme park in Hong Kong. — An Aerial view of the Ocean Park.

The village boy was a little nervous, but he was armed with his most trusted weapon: a well rehearsed abandon bordering on disdain. Whole buildings of glass, so what? It is just the glitter. The Khadi kurta, rugged jeans and Hawai Chappal- the JNU uniform that got him many stares- from immigration to immigration was part of that abandon, a carefully rehearsed one, though.

He followed the crowd running to the immigration, pretending he was not, as if he had been clearing immigration since he was an infant. A faint smile ran through his cheeks. The memories of entering glass buildings when he had first come to Delhi were back. That careful look- on people behaving ‘normal’ and imitating them.

That was the only nervousness the boy would ever have with this city.

Hong Kong was nothing that those cinematic ‘establishing shots’ made it to be. Yeah, Victoria Harbour is beautiful, but it was only as much the city as is India Gate Delhi. The Peak too, only as much Hong Kong as Gateway of India was Mumbai.

Victoria Harbour during the symphony of light: the mandatory 'establishing shot' for HKSAR. — Victoria Harbour during the symphony of light: the mandatory ‘establishing shot’ for HKSAR.

Yeah, the ‘heart’ of Hong Kong is all glass and concrete. Provided you could call that place, always in flux with people moving in and out as they would from any financial hub Hong Kong in the first place. No one calls Dubai airport’s transit area Dubai, right? That glass and concrete part is only that much Hong Kong. People come here, mostly on short time assignments and go. Without even knowing the city.

Iconic Star Ferry Pier from the Hong Kong Island Side

Beyond that exist well-knit communities in villages 300 to 400 years old still farming. Many of them are still walled in a throwback to the times gone by.

The village boy immediately belonged here, settled in the first he took as home with windows looking at sprawling bonsai mandarin plantations on one hand and a lush green hill behind. It was not love at first sight, but a lifelong romance had begun.

The BOnsai Mandarin plantation right out of the window of my bedroom

A romance that would take him to the Tai Mo Shan- a hike traversing over 5 waterfalls, largest over a 100 meters in a row, in a single hike! Startled? The boy too was- only till he took a nice long swim in the natural pool in the third one. Or to the Tung Lung Fort built in 1722 to guard against the pirates. Or the Bride’s Pool- another waterfall combined with a beautiful valley praying for the wife who lost her life while crossing the waterways, after whom the waterfall took its name.

Bride's Pool Waterfall — Bride’s Pool Waterfall

Or the stilted villages like Tai O with their unfolding bridges taking you straight to further south east- Vietnam and Cambodia.

And the villages with their centuries-old traditions living on for centuries- the dragon dances, the bun festivals in which a very rustic looking person sees you and you being the only non-Chinese there starts explaining the history and the ritual. And then that he is Vice President or this and that in HSBC or again, this or that!

Preparation for the Dragon Dance in Pok Fu Lam village

And yeah, the small bunkers, now shrines, dug by the Hong Kongers who resisted the Japanese during World War II with all their might, often making the biggest of the sacrifices. And the sprawling parks in the middle of the city with retired elderlies playing Mahjong all day, often also babysitting their grandchildren as both the parents would have gone to work.

Hong Kong is now home. Yeah, I often feel sad seeing a few of the fields in front of my house disappearing every year, yet, happy that forests make for them. Yeah, forests cover over 26,400 hectares of the total area of Hong Kong, about 23.8%- much more than during the World Wars.

Come, visit my home. But please please please, not on those 2 nights 3 days packages. I can share with you some best-kept secrets for a longer and better rendezvous with this harbor I now call home.

Ghazipur to Guangzhou: The opium trail

Posted on April 8, 2020 by Samar 10 comments

Magnificent Canton Tower in Guangzhou, briefly the tallest building of the world, stood in front of me. Inquiring, it seems, why I looked so familiar.

It wasn’t because I came from Hong Kong, just 129 kms away, I told him. Yet, I had to look familiar as the real, left behind home of the boy from Babhnan is a mere 190 kms away from Ghazipur. A small sleepy town the boy knew so well. A Kasba he has been to many times for things big and small- from family weddings to a pit stop on the way to Varanasi- a major pilgrim centre.

This is the Canton Tower, briefly the tallest building in the world. — Canton Tower

This is where this story started. A story that would change the world. It wasn’t one of those beautiful stories of the travellers and knowledge seekers who went from China to India- their Buddha’s home.

This was not a story of great scholars like Faxian or Xuanzang. It was a story of the Opium and the Raj. A story of wars and blood. Of Colonials and the Natives. Of victors and the vanquished for centuries to come.

Yeah, the story formally began in Ghazipur, still one of the single biggest opium producers in the world. It began with ith the Ghazipur Opium Factory, established as Benaras Opium Agency, an East India Company entity in 1820. The idea of exporting opium to China was that of Warren Hastings, the first governor general of British India, in 1780. Yet, the first few shipments, hardly found any takers. Ten years down the line, the scene had completely changed with scores of Chinese already addicted. The Qing dynasty was already cracking down threatening death sentences to smugglers, including the foreign merchants.

This was an almost unbelievable sequence in the Chimelong International Circus! My heart skipped a beat many a times! — An almost unbelievable stunt from the Chimelong International Circus

The British opposed this in the name of Free Trade and parity of the nations (sounds familiar, no?), and continued engaging in the illegal trade.

By the early 1820s, opium processed in Ghazipur would be sent to Calcutta (now Kolkata) for auction, then smuggled to the south China coast via the port of Canton (now Guangzhou). Canton was the only port through which the Chinese empire allowed, and regulated, foreign trade for centuries. Macau was the only exception with a small concession for a Portugese post in 1557, but not allowed to trade in China.

The skirmishes over opium escalated. The Qings sent Lin Zexu, from Fuzhou (aah, the world is so small) as Viceroy in 1839 to crack down on the illegal trade. He would appeal to the conscience of the Queen Victoria to stop the trade in a letter that would never reach her. He would try to forfeit opium offering tea in exchange, the British won’t listen to him. He would then use force: and a war would break out- the First Opium War- with the Qing’s defeat in 1842. The Qings would sign the Treaty of Nanking granting indemnity and extraterritoriality to the foreigners in China, would open 5 more ports and cede Hong Kong, my home now, to the British in perpetuity.

All I could get was this horrible photo despite trying a `100 times! Those were the days! — I tried so hard to get this! Beat if you can! That’s Pearl River…

Oh Ghazipur and Gwanjhou, you changed the history of the world. And also personal history of the small boy from Babhnan. Had you both not played your role, Hong Kong would not become a British colony and would be one of the most unlikely places he could call home! This even as Charles Cornwallis, then Governor General of India sleeps in his grave overlooking the graceful Ganges in Ghazipur! Talk of the journies!

Anyways, back to Guangzhou, with a history of over 2200 years. Though the Canton part is perhaps the most fascinating part of its life, it is not the only one. Neither is the modern megapolis- one of the biggest foreign trade centres in China again! Sitting in the heart of Pearl River Delta, Guangzhou too has been one of the earliest cradles of the civilisation, with all its bounties.

Once in the city, start with a stroll by the river. Then go up in the sky, in the Canton Tower, and watch it flow down with grace.

Miss the old Circus days? You are at the right place, provided you could make that morally difficult decision- and vouch for yourself if animals, and humans are treated well. Once done, head to Chimelong International Circus, and/or Safari and/or resort. Want to imagine what Canton looked like? Head to Shamian Island- a major abode for the foreigners- a European oasis in the orient!

Don’t miss the over 2000 year old Mausoleum of Nanyue King Zhao Mo, discovered only in 1983! Nanyue, incidentally was an ancient kingdom encompassing parts of southern China and northern Vietnam And is considered to be a Chinese one by them, and a Vietnamese one by them.

This was after watching a circus performance in decades! — After watching a circus after decades!

Squeeze in some time for Sun Yat-Sen Memorial Hall as well and pay tributes to the city that played a major role in changing the history of China, and the world, yet another time with strings of revolutions against the Monarchy followed by the establishment of first, Republic of China and then, Peoples’ Republic of China.

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2020/

https://www.facebook.com/events/280869735882853/

BlogChatter

Fuzhou: A fortunate surprise

Posted on April 7, 2020 by Samar 13 comments

Fuzhou was not really in my bucket list. To be honest, I hardly knew about this city, like most of the travellers and even more of the tourists. This, despite it being the capital of Fujian province and one of the biggest cities in South China- my neighbourhood for last 8 years now.

This is one of the entrance of Sanfang Qixiang- roughly translated as the "three lanes and seven alleys" aka Beverly Hills of Imperial China! Founded in 708 AD, the 40 hectare complex has been home of over 400 of China's richest and most powerful! — Sanfang Qixiang- roughly translated as the “three lanes and seven alleys” aka Beverly Hills of Imperial China

But one fine day I found myself in Fuzhou. I had just spent a few days in Yongding county famous for its community houses called Tulous whom the USA mistook for nuclear reactors at the height of Cold War. (You can read about my travels to Tulous here). Next in line was Xiapu, beautiful beyond words for its scenic mudflats and life on the sea- with entire villages on sea! (My Xiapu Mudflats memories are here). And the road connecting them passed through Fuzhou making me wonder why not give the city a chance as well!

And lo and behold: It turned out to be one of the best of the decisions I had made in ages! Here I was in a city with a history of over 2200 years with the first settlements recorded here in 2nd century BCE!

Some of the restored houses in Sanfang Qixiang decorated with lanterns — Buildings decorated with lanterns in Sanfang Qixiang

And then there is over 1400 years old Sanfang Qixiang- roughly translated as the “three lanes and seven alleys” aka Beverly Hills of Imperial China! This one complex, slightly over 40 hectares in total area, founded in Tang Dynasty (618-907) and inhabited ever since is what over 400 of Imperial China’s the richest and most powerful men called home. Sadly, men alone as I found no mention of women despite repeated ‘family houses’.

Inside Lin Zexu Memorial Hall: Remembering the man who destroyed Opium Trade and thus caused the First Opium War

Talk about the man who sparked the First Opium War, Lin Zexu, a Qing official, Yan Fu, a Chinese scholar who translated Darwin’s theory of natural selection in Mandarin or Bing Xin who translated our own Gurudev, Ravindranath Tagore: they all called this complex home!

Lin Zexu: The man who started the opium wars!

Ironically, many of these historic houses had been abandoned and become subdivided squatter homes before their restoration in late 2000s, a telling comment on the power of time.

I had entered the complex doubting the famous saying that “One Sanfang Qixiang equals half of China’s modern history,” kept returning to it fully convinced. Exploring the lanes and alleys throughout the day and then a couple of drinks in one of the bars dotting An Tai Canal, marking the boundary of the Sanfang Qixiang.

Then there is a majestic manmade lake West Lake- excavated in 282 A.D. by Yan Gao (Yán Gāo 严高), an official of Jing Dynasty. Yeah, in 282 A.D.! Go to the lake in the morning and it would be a riot of colours both on the water turned golden by the morning rays and people: People practicing Tai Chi, aunties learning ballet in groups, the elderly reading, couples on morning walks! Name it! They are there! And true to Chinese quirks when it comes to traveling- they have built a Dinosaur Park at one corner of the lake! Believe it or not, I could not hold myself back from getting clicked with one of them!

majestic manmade lake West Lake- excavated in 282 A.D. by Yan Gao (Yán Gāo 严高), an official of Jing Dynasty. Yeah, in 282 A.D.! Go to the lake in the morning and it would be a riot of colours both on the water turned golden by the morning rays and people: People practicing Tai Chi, aunties learning ballet in groups, the elderly reading, couples on morning walks! Name it! They are there! — West Lake

Fuzhou has so much more to offer, sadly the small boy from Babhnan was short on time. So he passed by the majestic mosque so many times, yeah Islam is not banned in China despite whatever morons claim! In fact one of the most happening places I have ever been to in China is the Muslim Quarters of Xi’an with a huge, centuries old mosque that looked more a pagoda than a mosque!!

Fuzhou Mosque: :Legend has it that Prophet sent emissaries to Fuzhou in 628 A.D.

There is Drum Mountain in Gu Shan revered for its Buddhist Temple at the top, about half an hour away from the City Centre. In the very centre of the city are 3 mountains and a lake- which actually is a river Min!

A rather cheerful Chinese restaurant owner served me Onion Bhaji and Butter Naan and then sang a beautiful Bollywood song! Aah you gem of a woman, I miss you! — Butter Naan , “D”nion” Bhaji and live music : What else could one ask for?

Do try to steal a visit to China Shoushan Stone Museum for having a rare look at Shoushan stones and understand its history- how they are mined, carved and so on. These stones, also called agalmatolite are rare treasures and one carved stone may fetch millions of dollars in today’s market.

Of course the small boy from Babhnan could not squeeze the last two in his sojourn in Fuzhou. Mudflats in Xiapu were calling him. As it is, one life is never enough to see it all, but Fuzhou is close enough for a second visit!

See you again, Fuzhou, and you too, mates, perhaps in Fuzhou!

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2020/

https://www.facebook.com/events/280869735882853/

Blogchatter

Ernakulam: Exploring Nature’s own country

Posted on April 6, 2020 by Samar 9 comments

Ernakulam is an enigma. A district in which sits Kochi, one of the biggest cities in South India. It is also name of the part of a small section of Kochi, a city I have been to dozens of times. So Kochi is in Ernakulam district and Ernakulam is a locality inside Kochi Municipal Corporation. Hellua of a riddle, no? Just that you ain’t going to get time to solve it.

At the Kerala Folklore Museum in Kochi — At the Folklore Museum

The boy from Babhnan still remembers, vividly, the pleasant surprise he was in for when he landed in the town for the first time. He had always hated the term descent- for many reasons. His aversion to descent in landing came from the fact that descending in a city often killed their character. But for a few iconic landmarks, Delhi would look the same as Mumbai, sans the sea. Phnom Penh would look not much different from Raipur with both looking mofussil as against megapolises.

This is a picture of beautiful backwaters in Ernakulam, could not get the name right. — Beautiful Backwaters

Ernakulam looked none like that. There was a sea down there, a sea of greens with temples, churches and mosques too growing, almost organically with them. There were few of ugly skyscrapers. It was love at first sight. So was the view outside the airport. Almost rustic, rural, the boy from a small town so readily belonged to. It was love at first sight!

So it was to be on all his later trips to Kerala. From Ernakulam to Thrissur and then a long road trip to Marayur through reserved forest sanctuary to famous tea plantations of Munnar and back.

A warrior Goddess in the Kerala Follore Museum,

Wait, it is about Ernakulam, right. There we are. A beautiful district with lots of history, fun and a very happy vibe to it. Go to the Fort area and roam around Mattancherry which supposedly takes its name from Mutton sellers who dotted the street and so it became Muttoncherry- slowly evolving into Mattancherry- Cherry meaning street in Kerala.

Once immersed in the history of the area along with a must visit to the museum there- ask around for a quick backwaters tour for the next day and enjoy Kearala’s beauty in all its glory. Keep some time with you though, as it would take a minimum of 6 hours by a non motorised boat- and that is is the way to go- with pit stops in villages along the beautiful canals. And do not forget to strike a conversation or few with the local boatmen, most of them understand at least Bollywood Hindi. No mean deal that in South India, with many of the regions avere to Hindi imposition and righteously so!

Conversations with a local boatman. — Conversations with a local boatman, sorry, could not resist the greed of posting this one too!

Once done, visit the Kerala Folklore Museum, located at, mind it, Folklore Junction in the heart of the city. Immerse yourself in the history and artifacts of Malabar region, and again, you would require hours and hours for that!

Ernakulam, of course has many other places to offer- the famous Summer Palace, the Thattekad Bird Sanctuary, established by no less than the Master himself- Salim Ali in 1986, and the first in Kerala, the shopping areas like Mahatma Gandhi Road- of course, the man has earned this respect, and so on.

Poster of Che Guevara somewhere in Ernakulam — Meeting Che

What I count as a must, though, is taking a road trip to the interiors of the district. Kerala villages are like, perhaps, none other in India. You won’t believe how really narrow lanes take you to the real riches- not only material one but also cultural one. I have never seen villages cleaner than those in Kerala across India! Stop at roadside stalls for local delicacies, including beef if you are a lover unlike this vegetarian by culture village boy.

And yeah, do not forget to say hi to all the revolutionaries you would come across- Che Guevara, Fidel Castro, Ho Chi Minh, name them, sans, surprisingly, Mao. Something to do with the split in Communist Party of India with Maoists having gone on a different path.

Go, explore Ernakulam in beautiful Kerala, God’s or not, the small boy doesn’t know as he slowly turned atheist, but Nature’s very own for sure!

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2020/

https://www.facebook.com/events/280869735882853/

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2020/

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.

#atozchallenge
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2020/
https://www.facebook.com/events/280869735882853/
https://www.theblogchatter.com/the-road-runner-challenge-blogchattera2z-is-here/

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

#atozchallenge
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2020/
https://www.facebook.com/events/280869735882853/
https://www.theblogchatter.com/the-road-runner-challenge-blogchattera2z-is-here/

Ayodhya to Ayutthaya: Buddha in a Banyan Tree

Posted on April 1, 2020 by Samar 14 comments

Buddha in the tree roots… This one statue is enough to make Ayutthaya a must visit

Buddha looked at me from the roots of the Banyan tree. His peaceful eyes showering blessings at me, a boy who had come to meet him from Ayodhya, the city whose name his Ayutthaya has taken. All the Buddha had, though, was his head, severed by the Burmese invaders more than three centuries ago. Yet invaders came and went, then died, Buddha lives on.

I was in Ayutthaya. World’s biggest city in the 1700s, capital of then Siam! Ayutthaya, a city of over a million people even in those days. Ayutthaya, a city which invited traders and sailors from across the world and had different quarters established for them just outside the walls of the city, in fact the river, Chao Phraya… Chinese, Portuguese, Indians, Japanese, Persians, Afghans, Spaniards, Dutch, English, and French…. Ayutthaya, where St. Joseph’s Church, built by the French in 1666 still stands tall, a whopping 350 years after! A city then looted, razed and finally burnt down by the Burmese in 1767.

I had been to Angkor Wat and seen the ruins, much bigger than anything Ayutthaya could offer. Yet, this one was far more personal. For someone like me, born in a village near Ayodhya, it was nothing less than a pilgrimage. Being in a city that takes its name from the rusty, mofussil town Ayodhya three oceans and countless rivers away was a surreal experience, a journey within.

On the touristy boat at Chao Praya River

Taking a boat ride in the Chao Phraya river was remembering the Saryu river thousands of kilometers away. Seeing Buddha after Buddha with their heads severed a reminder of Ayodhya, again, and all the religious violence committed in its name.

And it was on this boat that I remembered the astonishment in the eyes of my co passenger, an Indian, when I told him that I was going to Ayutthaya.

Ayutthaya? Where is that in Thailand was the prompt, and spontaneous question. I was not surprised. For a country still not catching up with backpacking, also the one where many go to only the places they can get their, and often vegetarian only, food, Ayutthaya wasn’t a likely choice in any case. Even if it is just 85 kilometers from Bangkok and can be visited over a day trip- I stayed there for three nights though. Going to Thailand often means going to Bangkok and/or Pattaya (pronounced Pataiya) and for obvious reasons.

When the sun sets on Wat Chaiwatthanaram in Ayutthaya.

The conversation broke with the inflight announcement: We have started our descent and would shortly land in Bangkok. The announcement running in my head was different though: We shall go to Bangkok via Ayutthaya, Suphanburi, Kanchanaburi, Hell Fire Pass and Pattaya. The route has seen horrifying wars like Burmese raising Ayutthaya to ground and the Japanese killing over 1 lakh prisoners of war forcing them to labour for Thai-Burmese Railways for rushing supplies for Indian front.

I have rarely seen places more beautiful, and more saddening. And more encouraging and inspiring. As I wrote in the beginning, invaders die, Buddhas live on. Do look for your Ayutthaya, or Ayodhya. If you happen to be near this one, though, do visit the Buddha there. Tell him that a small boy from Ayodhya sends him hugs.

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2020/

https://www.facebook.com/events/280869735882853/

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2020/

बभनान से बैंकाक और अयोध्या से अयुथया तक

Posted on March 12, 2019 by Samar Leave a comment

अयुथया? ये कहाँ है थाईलैंड में? जहाज में बगल बैठे ‘टूरिस्ट’ से ये सवाल न भी सुना होता दरअसल तो भी आश्चर्य नहीं होता। रोज हिंदुस्तान से थाईलैंड आने वाले हजारों लोगों में से कितने जानते होंगे ऐसे कस्बों का नाम- भले ही वो फिर बैंकाक से सिर्फ 80 किलोमीटर दूर क्यों न हो. एक तो अपनी तरफ अमूमन थाईलैंड जाने का मतलब बैंकाक और पटाया (स्थानीय अंदाज में पतइया) जाना होता है, और वह भी खास वजहों से. दूसरे माज़ी से, इतिहास से हमारा रिश्ता कभी बहुत करीब का नहीं रहा- इस कदर कि हम अपनी पर आ जाएँ तो सिकंदर को गंगा तट पर हरा भी सकते हैं और भगत सिंह को काला पानी भी भेज सकते हैं!

बखैर- अयुथया बोले तो फ्र नखोन सी अयुथया। अयुथया! यूनेस्को से प्रमाणित विश्व धरोहर शहर.
थाईलैंड का सिमरीप – थाईलैंड का अंगकोर वाट. अच्छा ठीक है- उस स्तर पर भव्य नहीं, उतना पुराना भी नहीं और उतना संरक्षित भी नहीं- पर फिर जाएगा तो उसी के करीब जाएगा। दर्जनों भव्य मंदिर, असल में वाट, एक बड़ा सा चर्च और मस्जिद वाला कस्बाई सा शहर अद्भुत है- और भी अद्भुत अगर आप चारो तरफ से नदी से घिरे इस शहर में उतरती शाम को नाव से देखें- मंदिरों पर बरसती सुनहली किरणें, स्टिल्टेड (नदी/पानीज़मीन- कहीं भी खम्भों पर बनाये गये) घर और शानदार हवा- इस शहर से इश्क़ न हो जाए तो कहियेगा।

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

“फ्र” बोले तो थाई में संस्कृत के “देव”, “नखोन” हुआ “नगर” “सी” शब्द श्री और “अयुथया” शब्द रामायण की अयोध्या नगरी। बोले तो “फ्र नखोन सी अयुथया” हुआ थाई में “देव नगरी श्री अयोध्या”। बोले तो जिस अयोध्या किनारे हम पले बढ़े, जिसकी मिट्टी में पुरखों की राख शामिल है, उस अयोध्या से तमाम समन्दर दूर अपना नाम लेने वाला एक छोटा सा क़स्बा। हाँ, ये क़स्बा हमेशा से छोटा नहीं था- और छोटे कि तो छोड़िये ही, जो 17वीं शताब्दी में दुनिया का सबसे बड़ा शहर था! 10 लाख की आबादी के साथ। जो कभी सियाम साम्राज्य की राजधानी था। जो फिर बर्मा के आक्रमणकारियों द्वारा नेस्तनाबूत कर दिया था। जो बचा था फिर जला दिया गया था। जो अब बताता है कि ज़मींदोज़ होने के बाद इतना बाक़ी है तो जब रहा होगा तो क्या रहा होगा।

यूँ तो अयुथया की आधिकारिक स्थापना 1351 में राजा यू थॉन्ग उर्फ रामाथिबोधि ने की- पर तमाम शिलालेख इशारा करते हैं कि शहर पहले से रहा होगा। और हाँ- रामाथिबोधि से याद आया कि थाईलैंड के राजा अपने को भगवान राम का अवतारा मानते हैं- 2014 में दुनिया बदल जाने के सैकड़ों साल पहले से. 1782 से अभी जो राजवंश चल रहा है वह खुद ही राम 1 से राम 9 तक पहुँच आया है. 1767 में बर्मा के हमलावरों द्वारा पूरा शहर लूट के जला दिए जाने तक बीच में कंबोडिया से शुरू कर बर्मा तक में प्रभाव रखने वाला बहुत बड़ा शहर रहा.बहुत सारे फॉरेन क्वार्टर्स के साथ- पुर्तगाली, जापानी, फ्रांसीसी-.

खैर, अंगकोर वाट देख चुके होने के बाद मैंने अपनी उम्मीद कम रखी थी- पर आप ये गलती न करियेगा। और अंगकोर वाट माने कंबोडिया यात्रा में शामिल न हो तो बिलकुल भी नहीं!

एयर होस्टेस ने ‘डिसेंट’ शुरू होने की घोषणा कर दी थी. बैंकाक नीचे दिखने लगा था. अयोध्या के छोरे को थाईलैंड की अयोध्या में पहुँचने में कुछ ही देर बाकी थी- एक नए देश से इश्क़ की शुरआत को भी. उड़ानों की उद्घोषणाएं याद हो आयीं थीं- हम अयुथया, सुफानबूड़ी, कंचनाबूड़ी, हेल फायर पास और पट्टाया होते हुए बैंकॉक जाएंगे- सफर थोड़ा भारी होगा, अयुथया और कंचनाबूड़ी दोनों की कहानी दो बहुत बड़े युद्धों और उनसे भी बड़ी तबाही की कहानी है पर- पहला बता ही दिया और दूसरा थाई बर्मीज रेलवे नाम के उस कहर की जो जापानियों ने दूसरे विश्वयुद्ध में नाज़िल किया था- हो सके तो वो शानदार फिल्म देखियेगा कभी- ब्रिज ऑन द रिवर क्वाई- स्पॉइलर अलर्ट: असल में क्वाई नाम की कोई नदी है नहीं, वो ब्रिज ज़रूर है- उस का नाम दो अलग अलग नदियों का नाम जोड़ के बना दिया था.

पर फिर ये कहानी जीवट की, प्रतिरोध की, संघर्ष की, फिर से उठ खड़े होने की कहानी भी है. आइये आपको साथ घुमाते हैं.

और कभी इधर घूमने की योजना बने तो सलाह ले सकते हैं- मानने न मानने को लेकर कोई ज़िद नहीं है.

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!