Travel In Home

Thank you for making Backpacker win

I was in Galibore, a fishing camp on the River Cauvery spotting the Flycatchers - Verditer, Tickells Blue and the Paradise flycatcher yesterday when I got a couple of congratulatory tweets from friends.Thanks Prashanth and Ramaswamy.

I realized that Backpacker has emerged as winner in Indibloggies 2008 in the travel category.Ugich Konitari also dropped a congratulatory comment on my post . Thanks UK and wish you the same for having won as well.

Its a great surprise and I am really happy. I thank every one of you for your support and votes.I know a few individuals who have voted for me, but a lot of you are out there . There were quite a few good travel blogs that were nominated and some of them are owned by friends of mine and I think they are great blogs as well.

Thank you for making backpacker win !

by Jour ~ Wednesday, December 16, 2009 0 comments

Driving down the Coromandel Coast - Part 1

It has always been my dream to traverse down the coastline and lose myself in dusty fishing hamlets. The smell of the sea lures me . The waves tell a story of their own. Dripping with foam, they gather around my feet as my toes snuggle into the sand refusing to let go. I stand on the edge of the shore and watch a pair of juvenile brahminy kites dive into the sea. They miss their catch, but they continue to scoop down into the waters until they succeed.

Elsewhere the echo of laughter drowns the rhythm of the waves. The silent shore suddenly transforms into a bustling market. The fisherfolk arrive brightly clad with a variety of catch . The women carry their baskets while the men drag their trawlers ashore and fold their nets. The boats bob on the surface as the women display their fares. The creatures of the sea lie serenely on the colourful rags as they attract customers. Their silver scales glitter as the day’s bargaining begins. It is business as usual.

I catch snippets of gossip. Their loud voices pierced with laughter cuts through the silence. The women try to sell me the crabs and prawns, but I walk away towards the backwaters close by where the nets are still cast by the fishermen. A pied kingfisher looks down from the branch scanning the surface for fish. I lose myself in the crowds and carry on with my journey .

It’s a long drive cruising down the coastline from Chennai to Tranquebar. Along the way, several hamlets interrupt my journey as I pause by to take in the local culture. Some of these nonchalant villages once wore a cloak of a different identity. They were erstwhile thriving ports of powerful kingdoms or bustling settlements of Europeans but are today lost in a maze of huts and fields overlooking the shores. While some became popular tourist spots, a lot remain hidden behind the garb of a simple village. My tryst with the Coromandel coast begins with the quest for these lost pieces of history.

The highway runs parallel to the Bay of Bengal as I drive from Chennai towards Mahabalipuram . The East Coast Road rushes past stretches of blue and green as the casuarina groves interrupt the ocean view. Tsunami camps bring back memories of a furious nature as I look at the contrast of a tame sea gently lashing the shore. We buzz past the ancient Pallava port of Mahabalipuram and drive down towards Kalpakkam , the centre of atomic research near Chennai. My first destination was an erstwhile battlefield .

They say the power of imagination can recreate anything. However , it took me a while to imagine that a quiet fishing village with a handful of shops could be anything close to a battlefield. I go back several centuries when the entire landscape was dotted with fortresses which were seats of power. The seas were choppy and filled with fleets which fought each other. The maps altered and the boundaries changed. The tamil speaking locals had morphed into European nationalities. The Dutch, the Danes, the Portuguese, the French and the British were all here fighting for control over present day Tamil Nadu and Pondicherry.

I am in Sadras or Sadarangapatinam, looking at a restored 17th century Dutch fortress and a cemetery that tell the story of the Battle of Sadras fought between the fleets of the British with the French and the Dutch. An inconclusive battle, the wars were an aftermath of the 18th century European politics set against the American War of Independence. The canons , a watch tower , the warehouses and the tombs at the cemetery are the possible reminders that this was once a centre of power. Although the British fleet suffered a setback in the first war, eventually the British East India Company took over the settlement in the early 19th century.

Sadras , often assumed as a twin city of Madras (today’s Chennai) has a history that even dates earlier to the Chola feudatories and later on was ruled by the Vijaynagar empire. A weaving centre, it is known for muslin which was exported to Europe. The colonial hangover suddenly disappears as a self styled colourful tourist guide accosts us . He looks straight out of a Kollywood film studio and offer to take us around. It is amusing to listen to his stories as he tries to extract money from us and even wants to take us for a ride around Sadras in our car.

There is glitter all over him, he wears blue rimmed plastic sunglasses, an orange whistle around his neck and has pink nail polish. He looks straight out of a Kollywood set, speaks only in English and calls himself ‘a furniture doctor’ who does part time guiding around the fort. A sensible decision would have been to walk away while he is on the phone, but we decide to take his picture. Pleased as punch, he introduces himself as Anand and says that he has just returned from his daughter’s birthday party. We know he is a trickster and as we leave , a local policeman walks past us saying, “He is mental, madam.” We leave them yelling at each other, wondering about the colourful people we meet while travelling and move on towards Pondicherry.

This story was published in Windows and Aisles, the inflight magazine of Paramount Airlines recently. I will be posting them in parts as its rather long..Travelwise will be launching this trail in January.

by Jour ~ Sunday, December 13, 2009 0 comments

Its red hot this Skywatch Friday

Braving the sun ! I fought my allergy to the UV rays to get these shots near Belur last weekend .I love the red sky.

Watch more pictures of skies here

by Jour ~ Friday, December 11, 2009 0 comments

Faces of Ladakh

We were returning from Nubra Valley when I saw this lady standing outside what looked like a house in Ladakh with two other women who had shovels with them. I took their permission to take their pictures when this lady started smiling and shyly refused to pose, but the others cajoled her .None of them knew Hindi and so I could not converse with them or ask their names.

by Jour ~ Tuesday, December 8, 2009 0 comments

Bangalore skies get all dramatic

There is a lot of drama in the skies these days.. Bangalore skies are all fired up and dramatic during sunsets these days. I enjoy twilights and sometime back, I had posted my thoughts on twilights in one of my blogs.

Watch more pictures of the sky at Skywatch Friday

Btw, I was pleasantly surprised when I found a mail in my inbox informing me that I have been nominated for Indibloggies -2008 in the travel category. There are quite a few blogs out there in other segments as well. I would appreciate it if you can take a few moments and vote for me .

by Jour ~ Thursday, December 3, 2009 0 comments

Life in the Tungabhadra

The Tungabhadra river separates the two ancient heritage towns - Hampi and Anegundi. The river serves as to bridge the people who want to commute betweem the two towns, ever since the man made structure collapsed a while ago.

by Jour ~ Wednesday, December 2, 2009 0 comments

India through my eyes - A formula for a clean city

As we walked in Kasauli rather aimlessly, we saw this warning near the Kasauli Club.Must say it works..the place was rather clean

Btw, I was pleasantly surprised when I found a mail in my inbox informing me that I have been nominated for Indibloggies -2008 in the travel category. There are quite a few blogs out there in other segments as well. I would appreciate it if you can take a few moments and vote for me .

Another temptation for travel buffs out there. Arun, my partner at Travelwise is planning a trek to Goecha-la, a high pass in Kanchenjunga National Park in Sikkim. The details are here and if you are tempted to join him, he would be more than happy.

by Jour ~ Tuesday, November 24, 2009 0 comments

Observations from Platform No 1

There was no sign of the train. It wasn't surprising, considering it's been little more than just fifteen minutes since we were waiting at the station. The lights dimmed for a moment and then we were suddenly plunged into darkness, waiting literally for the light from the end of the tunnel. In that few seconds, one could sense the uneasy panic as the whispers reached a crescendo.

" Barate, barate, power barate" said the voice cutting through the murmurs as the lights came on suddenly . I looked around to see if someone was addressing me and also wondered around the same time if it was the efficiency of the electricity department or the infrastructure in that little station that brought the lights back ."Genset idhe," he said as if he was reading my thoughts.

The dim light revealed a aging bald man with diamond studs in his ears. Sitting on the bench and speaking to no one in particular, he had that smug look about him . I looked around and realized that his little audience was indeed paying attention to him.

There was the great Indian family, replete with grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins and even a toddler . The mother looked agitated, rocking her little one, while the latter looked curiously out of her little bundle of clothes that wrapped her. There was a litter of baggages, strewn around, the tacky prints on the innumerous bags giving them a distinct Indianness - a flavour the urban folks will not relate to.And as soon as the power came back, they were all talking to each other at the same time. The mother paced around the platform desperately trying to rock her baby to sleep, who was wide eyed and wide awake, taking in the chaos .

I was in Hospet waiting for the train from Hubli to arrive, to take me back to Bangalore. There were just two platforms here and I was standing in the first platform observing life unfurl around me . I looked at the tracks and wondered how life changed every minute. If the visit to Hampi was to relive a forgotten city and its memories, Daroji took me to the wilderness in the midst of the man made ruins . The tracks would eventually take me back to a concrete jungle when the mechanics of life would continue. But, it was the present that caught my attention. The small vignettes of life here in this little station presented themselves to me . The vendors ,beggars, local passengers, wayfarers, tourists, foreigners and the railway personnel all merged into a colorful amalgam of people waiting for that one train to take them to their respective destinations. They meet for a brief while and then walk down their own paths. The destinations may be the same, but the paths different.

There is something about the people in a small town. The awkwardness with which they carry themselves is juxtaposed with the loud brashness , the curiosity with the boldness,or maybe openness. Probably that is the reason that the urbanites, prejudiced with snobbishness, shy away from them. I often wonder if it is a tinge of fear that makes the city bred avoid them, as if the masks will fall off in public view . I cringe subconsciously at the thought, even as we guise this fear with a snooty air.

"This is real India..youve been to Hampi ?" Our man was holding forth to a small group of foreigners who looked completely lost in this circus.They were loud too in their appearance with their massive backpacks, wide rimmed hats, camera equipments and travel gear. The locals gathered around them, but maintained a polite distance . The tourists looked tired and the girl wondered loudly if there would be a further delay.They were probably being tired of being stared at , as though they were curios, as the locals watched every movement of theirs and hung on to every word they said. Our man slowly walked away to his group , translating his brief interlude with the foreigners.

Another local hero emerged. Younger and conversant in English, he seemed to be wanting to bridge the gap between the foreigners and the locals. He was the typical "Our boy who made it big," surrounded by his circle of friends who probably aspired to be like him . Chatting up with the foreigners, he had learnt about their nationalities, their travel plans and their next destination as well. " Ah Kochi would be another 12 hours from Bangalore by train..and where are you staying in Bangalore ? " He was playing the local guide to the hilt to the tourists and was the hero to his circle who was by now hanging on to every word he said. The waiting had thawed the ice and conversations flowed freely. The chai wala arrived and cups were floated around. The magazine vendor landed on the scene as well trying to make a quick buck .The vendors probably rejoiced in the delay as they teased the passengers' patience and converted them into buyers.

Elsewhere lights of a different kind beckoned the bored passengers. An entire lot of women arrived from nowhere with a group of children with cool drinks and lays . And they made their way to the weighing machine which was glittering with lights. For a moment, it was a wave of nostalgia that swept me. As children, we cousins used to persuade our parents to take us to the weighing machine. The lure was simple. It wasnt so much the statistics on the weighing scale that bothered us, but that little piece of fortune that showed on a simple card. I heard the peals of laughter from the group and was tempted to step outside my city bred avtaar and try my luck again. As nostalgia faded, I realized that not much has changed. Neither the obsession with weight, nor the craving for a prediction. We all live on hope and a prayer -only technologies and contraptions change.

A sudden rush of feet and the station master was accosted by the wait listed, berthless and ticketless passengers. The party broke up as everyone thronged around him. "Was the train in sight ?" A distant light on the track gathered momentum. Suddenly the energies and the emotions on Platform No 1 underwent a change. The jostling began, a bit of a push and a rush , a sense of urgency as feet moved towards the tracks and necks craned to get a better view. The great Indian family was busy with their luggages , the tourists strapped their backpacks. The patience had given way to impatience as the hum grew louder and the engine came into view , but it chugged past as passengers realized there were no bogies behind it.

Post the anticlimax the scene rewound itself as the waiting game started all over again. A couple of dogs entered the fray, wagging their tails . The toddler suddenly wailed in her mother's arms. The murmurs grew. The chai wala persuaded me to buy another cup of sweetened tea. A train whizzed past in the second platform . I sipped another cup and waited

by Jour ~ Saturday, November 21, 2009 0 comments

Fireworks at Kabini

Some call it passion, others heartburn. I call it fireworks. The sky turned crimson and the waters of Kabini reflected it..

Watch more pictures of the sky at Skywatch Friday

by Jour ~ Friday, November 20, 2009 0 comments

Vignettes of Coorg

After Hoysala trail, Travelwise launches its first trail to Kodava land. Coorg with its lush plantations is a mystery for many. Our trail tries to unveil some of those . Join us on Nov 21, 22 as we travel into this coffee country and meet the Kodavas .

by Jour ~ Friday, November 13, 2009 0 comments

And the journey goes on..

Journeys are a way of life. We wade through life looking for a purpose,seeking one milestone after another, looking for destinations but realizing that very often than not,there is no end to a journey. Home is really a state of mind then. For a vagabond like me , my alter ego lies in a spirit that is lost in the hills, running down the plains, getting her feet soaked in waters and reliving the past in a monument.

In the last two months and ten days, I have travelled to various heights and depths. I went to the Himalayas - Ladakh and Himachal, crossed cities like Delhi, Mumbai and Chennai, gazed at the Taj Mahal and lost myself in Fatehpur Sikri .Then I went closer home near Bangalore to the jungles and hills in Kabini and Coorg My last trip this weekend was to Daroji and Hampi, where I had the best of both worlds-nature and heritage..

Im often asked why do I travel ? Am I an escapist,shunning civilisation ? Do I want to run away from the " real" life and holiday all my life ? Or is it a way to forget myself..Even worse, people today consider travel as badge value and an addiction. For many, travel is all about Lonely Planet, must see places and a photograph as a souvenir behind a monument..a proof of been there , done that !Ive been through all of these stages and more..

To begin with my journeys have been more " real" than an escape and in the last two months specifically, they have shown me the path more than once . Its more of a self discovery, where the choices and dilemmas in life become more obvious and yet, I have let life take its own path, like the meandering road .When in doubt, my motto has been look for the road not taken.

Ive learnt some of life's hardest lessons while travelling. It is not about managing the extremes of weather or pushing oneself to climb another rock, but its about human relationships. Ive made friends, lost friends, been touched by a stranger and been hurt by companions..and yet as emotions come and go, you learn that be it the mountains or the monuments, they have withstood ego and passions. You learn to let go as you realize that human nature is extremely frail..you are just a microcosm in the entire universe and strangers will replace friends who in turn become strangers. All roads may not meet all the time, sometimes as friends you take different paths, sometimes you choose to avoid the other's path, at other times, you just turn around and take a different direction, but you need to walk on..till you meet another human face at the end of the road.

Ive often lost myself in the past - in a world of myths and monuments. Ive unearthed tales and they have brought out the child in me looking for stories in every stone. But as I look at these mighty structures withstanding the ravages of time, I feel humbled and yet a strange sense of belonging, a connection that probably is deep rooted. The silence tells me that Im part of the "past" as well. The present is however where I belong and the future is a question of time.

Travelling has taught me to appreciate the finer nuances of nature. You may argue that a sunset is a sunset and the same butterfly flits in and out of the flower in your balcony. However, it is only after you see the crimson reflection in the far away waters and the wild flowers in the jungle that you learn to appreciate these finer points of life.On another note,it is perfectly fine if you cant scale the mountain or go deep into the forest or climb that craggy cliffs.In real, you dont have to travel far to reach out to the nature..sometimes it is just a few steps from where you stand, but a lot of miles in your mind, as you go through the various mazes of thoughts to arrive here.

Travelling Ive realized is all about perspectives. It is about looking at life with a different point of view. Sometimes you see a kaleidescope of colours, many times its a monotone of browns . The barrenness hits you, the fertile greens lure you, the blues become you..but you learn to appreciate each for its uniqueness. The various cultures fascinate me, but you realize that its not possible to trade lives. For many, a shepherd's life seems to be ideal as the urbanite often thinks the life of a rustic is simple yet fascinating..yet, their challenges are something that we need to grapple with.

Finally travelling is not always about must see places..its about what you want to see.

Ive just finished my 200th post here and its a mere statistic compared to the miles you have all travelled with me..Thanks for being there, walking with me, standing right behind me and sometimes even showing me the way. To me however there is no destination -its just the journey

by Jour ~ Monday, November 9, 2009 0 comments

Follow Me on Twitter!

Sacred Destinations has joined the Twitter revolution! You can now follow me at:twitter.com/sacreddestSince I haven't been able to find enough time for the blog these days but do like to share news and updates, Twitter's 140-character mini-posts are a great solution. My "tweets" will be a mix of Sacred Destinations updates and features, news related to religious travel and art, and occasional

by Jour ~ Monday, November 2, 2009 0 comments

The Ladakh Festival - behind the scenes

We were lucky. The Ladakh festival started off with great fanfare on Sep 1 in Leh and we were just taking a break from our hectic travelling. There is always a huge procession of various tribes and communities belonging to Ladakh on day one and we were lucky simply because the procession started right in front of our guesthouse at Chubi in Leh.All I saw was a riot of colours as everybody was busy getting ready but were willing to pose for a picture. I tried an amateur attempt at creating a video/slideshow of the pictures.Turn on the volume and enjoy .

by Jour ~ 0 comments

Birding over the weekend - Getting there !

Ive been birding over the last few months and Ive enjoyed looking at them, learning to identify them, listening to their calls and also observing them. I was initiated into birding thanks to NTP (Naturalist Training Programme )conducted by Jungle Lodges and also some friends who guided me and even helped me picked up a binocs ..There was a time when every weekend I used to wake up early and go for birding and then there was a long hiatus. Finally, I went birding again yesterday and for the first time tried my hand into photographing birds. Shreeram,a friend , photographer and blogger lent me his lens and this is one of my favourite shots from yesterday's birding. An egret landing at TG Halli.

by Jour ~ Sunday, November 1, 2009 0 comments

Destination Coorg

I just returned from a whirlwind trip to Coorg and the main agenda was to finalise the itinerary for our up coming trail on Kodagu . A lot has been said and spoken about it, but there is always something ethereal and mystical about this land, which the Coorg Gazetteer describes as the size of a baby's sock.I heard more stories, unearthed more hidden temples and listened to fascinating legends. Our Coorg trail will be launched in November and we have quite a few interesting tales for you. Ive just put together a few of our stories in a new blog, MYTS - My Travel Space. You can also read about the Haleri Dynasty in CLAY - a story that was also published in the Deccan Herald recently.We would like you to be a part of the tour..do join us..

by Jour ~ Monday, October 26, 2009 0 comments

India through my eyes- No Please !

Very often when we travel we tend to take pictures of local people. Usually I ask then for permission , but sometimes I like to take a candid moment.

I was in Thiksey in Ladakh when I saw these boys chatting. I asked them and they gave me an exasperated expression..Not another of those tourists , pls ...said their look. I couldnt help laughing when they hid their faces with a lid as a mock show of protest . And thats when I took the picture..I showed it to them later and we had a laugh and they later allowed me to take a couple of more pictures.

by Jour ~ Thursday, October 22, 2009 0 comments