Mountain of light

A very clear sign that I am getting old is that my mind is now taking longer and longer to process things and even more time to get some sense out of it all. I used to be able to do all this process all this very quickly and the delay usually was because of lack of time. So I am in London and I am trying to think what should I write about my first thoughts about this place that is now going to be my home for some time to come. Except my mind is still stuck on processing the short trip that I made to Benares before I moved to London.

Although my short sojourn was barely 2 weeks back it almost seems another lifetime. The place seems on a completely different plane from even Delhi not to talk about London, also the fact that it all seems so distant now. I am not sure why I went there to begin with. Yes I always wanted to go to Benares but the timing of it all intrigues me. Why do I decide to go there just a few days before I need to pack my bags and leave, the time would have been well spent with family and friends. Even more intriguing is that I decided to follow this whim. I usually don’t follow my whims or atleast not as much as I used to. In the end it all worked out pretty well, my best friend decided to accompany me and the trip was an unusual combination of spirituality, beer, poetry and reminiscing of the days bygone.  I didn’t even mind the filth, the commotion, the aggressive temple priests and the late trains. 

It is difficult for me to describe Benares. I feel I can spend a lifetime there and not understand what is in the place that for centuries drawn has people from all over the world, seeking whatever it is that they are seeking. I am still trying to figure out what drew me to Benares. For me the best moment in my trip was the boat ride on the Ganga going through the ghats and seeing the shoreline with all its temples and the one mosque. The boat ride so made my trip that I refused to go the next day morning to see the sunrise. I was content with what I had seen and really didn’t want to see anymore. I loved the scenes on the ghats with the various temples, people doing their prayers taking their holy dips, an occasional Naga Sadhu getting the crowd’s attention, boatmen trying to sell their rides and us trying to capture it all with our cameras and minds. All this while I could feel a strange sort of peace and tranquility in the background.

Suddenly, my troubles and fears didn’t matter anymore. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. There was this peace and quiet that was much louder than the loudspeakers, much purer than the water, much bigger than the idols and much stronger than anything I have ever known. Maybe I have been here before, maybe I have always been here, maybe it has always been with me.

Benares.

As I pack my bags to leave Delhi a million thoughts run through my head. There is the thought of missing my family and friends and everything else that I have taken for granted in my life. There is some three decades of memories all inside my head, mostly good and some bad. In all these thoughts runs the common thread of Delhi. Delhi is where I was born, this is where I lived all my life and although I am going away I refuse to bid adieu. I know that while I am going away I will carry Delhi with me in my heart wherever in the world I go. I don’t know if I will ever come back to live in Delhi, but I do know that Delhi will be with me wherever I live.

It is difficult for me to describe my relationship with this city. This city constantly engages me at multiple levels. She has meant different things to me at different times in my life. She has taught me so much that it will take me a lifetime to comprehend everything and yet I feel there is so much more to learn. As I drive through the familiar streets and neighbourhoods I think of all my experiences here and its all too overwhelming. For once I am at a loss of words. I think if I were given a choice to be reborn in Delhi I would happily take it although maybe I would like to go back a few centuries in history. 

I don’t even know what in Delhi I will miss the most. I will miss the people, I will miss the weather, I will miss the politics, I will miss its history, I will miss discovering new kebab joints, I will miss the wide green spaces, I will miss coming back to Delhi after my short sojourns, I will miss the hot nights and alcohol fuelled conversations of trying to change the country. This list can go on and on.

 Sigh!

I am so much into the business of the world that I look forward to a vacation with as little contact with the outside world as possible. I use that time to let it all churn inside me, I reflect upon the world as it zoomed past me and try to do all that without any television or newspapers. This time I was even so desperately looking forward to the holiday, as the last 2 weeks preceding the vacation was particularly hectic and I found myself sleeping in a new bed every second night. It is very disconcerting and all my dreams were about the owner of the bed coming and throwing me out in the middle of the night.

So we landed up in Kerela for a relaxing, year-end vacation with backwaters, beer and banana chips to boot. It was in a small resort that you can never find unless the owner fetches you from the highway. It is a sort of a resort where the meals have to be placed one day in advance and the staff look up to us for their career planning. Don’t get me wrong, the resort was very good, very clean, with fabulous views of the lake and highly recommended. It is just that it is a sleepy little place. Just what I needed for the holiday.

I almost forgot that I was in Kerela, among the most politically charged up state in the country. I used to think Delhi with its 2 elected governments is politically charged up, but Kerela leaves Delhi way behind as it concerns itself with the governments of the world. Everyone is so into politics, like our resort manager was reeling demographic facts about his constituency of the number of voters who is of what caste and religion. So the staff comes up to us one day and says they are running to the market as a strike has been declared. The strike has been declared in protest of Saddam Hussein being hanged and it is an all-party strike. Ofcourse, the timing was very convenient as it was just before the New Year weekend. So the entire area goes on strike and there goes my vacation as I have to clue into the news and watch endless repetitions of the noose being tied around Saddam’s neck and the local Malayalam news channel calling Saddam’s death as his martyrdom. Reminded me of what the editor of Al-Jazeera’s English channel said that it is important to know the difference between a terrorist and a martyr. On the drive to Cochin we met bands of protestors marching in the middle of a hot day calling Bush a rascal and what not. This would have made my fiercely Democratic friends in the US consider relocating to Kerela.

Next day I checked into a massage shop for a ‘full day rejuvenation package’. My masseur mentioned that he owned a toddy (local brew) shop and laughed at the ironies of preaching Ayurveda and owning a toddy shop. Then we ofcourse got talking about the strike and the guy mentioned that his toddy shop was open through the strike and how he completely agreed with the strike and how it was only the beginning of the strikes. Sure enough, January 1st on our departure from the house boat we were greeted with the fact that the shops were closed again as the Muslims had called a strike against Saddam’s hanging. Ofcourse, our Christian houseboat manager started muttering about vote bank politics and we were strongly advised to stay out of Muslim areas on our drive back.

So ended my trip and a wonderful holiday. I came back refreshed and not feeling a bit out of touch with the world. Truly, God’s very own country.