In the past year, I've done 2 trips to Pushkar. Each had its own flavor. One was done during the Pushkar Festival. A photography trip where I saw India in all its Indian-ness through the eyes of 4 photographers and 4 different cameras. I can't say enough of the trip so I'm going to let the photos speak.

By Rajat Maheshwari

Raj5

By Sanjiv Kapoor

By Kanika Bansal

By Kanika Bansal

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Saatal, Nainital, Almora, Kausani, Ranikhet, Ramnagar...there are so many names to the hills of Uttaranchal but none of them as beautiful as the actual terraced hills cut apart by water tumbling over rocky beds. The Tarai region of Uttaranchal is the most exquisiste with veerdant green forests over rolling hills, thick with trees in all shades of emerald. But this trip was all about childhood, about rediscovering love, innocence and pure joy. It was all about a little bundle of 15 Kgs wrapping 4 grown adults around her little pinkie. She was the queen and we were all her subjects. And we loved it! Her antics on the car ride vied for the gorgeous views passing by. Kishore kumar songs got replaced by 'Lakdi ki kaathi...' 'cause thats what chinki loves to sing. And druken singing next to a bonfire gave way to 4 adults trying to chase a 3 year old around on swings on a night lit only by the moon!

The first day we had been travelling through the night so a small visit to the cottage location of Saatal had us all collapsing on the beds and snoring away. Chinki on the other hand spent an hour or so trying to wake everyone up and then fell asleep herself. So we started the trip with sleep and relaxation. Using the evening to walk on the snaking paths only to plonk our backsides next to an open shop overlooking a nice view. Watching the sun set and chasing our little angel around on the cement platform. It is amazing how much you learn when on a trip to the hills. I didn't know that ferns, when burnt, could chase away mosquitos, that chestnuts taste so sweet when they are cooked in the fire, and burst like bombs when cooked for too long! And that lingerie is so cheap in Nainital, you could buy yourself 4 sets for a grand!

Then started our 'On the road' trip aka Jack Kerouac...we first stopped at a really pretty bridge over a semi-deep part of the river. The fish were swimming and the water was a deep sea green from the moss on the rocks. There was a guy standing on the bridge trying to reel in his bait, which Tina promptly took over and started a round of 60 questions with the patient, poor man.

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Chinks had a blast watching the little fishies from the bridge. Sanat nosed around the dhaba till the owner relinquished the throne to him and he set about making Maggi for the child and the adult with a bad stomach (me). Eventually errant child decided on a banana instead which she chucked up 5 kms down the road. And everyone else gorged on maggi, hot pakoras, sugary tea and molten sunshine.

 We passed through awesome views, stopping at every turn to have a smoke and pee on the wayside (that pleasure which is afforded only to men in the city!) On the way we even chose a spot where we could have sat only if the sun was not setting so quickly. Mentally logging the spot, we went on to find a hotel. There actually is a Bengali hotel with Bengali dishes on the menu and signs written in Bong bhasha, all the way up in Kausani. Amazing! We eventually found a beautiful cottage which had a garden in front overlooking a valley and a bandminton court in the back. The night brought on its share of giggles on Chinki's antics and on Sattu's takes on life. Both are so fresh and untamed that they make you double up with laughter. It was this night that chinks found the playground at 1:00 AM and took advantage of it to her heart's content, sliding away, swinging and making her dad do enough push ups to feel like Saif Ali Khan on the see-saw. Days full of laughter and sunshine...and nights with secrets shared in the moonlight...the group sufficiently warmed by the fire and loosened by the booze and smoke..I love these trips, they make you find out more about your friends than you ever knew!

The gypsies in us decided to abandon the hotel after a round of badminton on the courts..we set off again towards unexplored pastures. Bought supplies and camped next to the river on a pretty spot with an ancient temple and ruins to boot. Lying on the grass, chomping on blades of grass, cucumbers freshly washed and potato chips..guzzling lassi and beer. Watching the clouds go by and chinki attempt to empty the space of pebbles and throw them all to the other side of the stream. Chasing ladybugs, wading in the cool cool waters, bliss doesn't come cheaper than this! Walking the mountainside around we found another temple complete with the baba smoking his chillum. Not allowed to share the baba's hit, we had to nose around the temple and see things for ourselves. Then off to Ranikhet and our trusty bonfire. Looking for a hotel to stay in, we climbed a moonlit snaking path to Holm Farms, through the forest and a picture perfect flowing stream. And finding no accommodation available, had to settle for an Inn on the side of a busy street. Standing stoned on the balcony, you could look out onto the surrounding hills dotted by tiny, twinkling lights. And hear the strains of a 'Bidi Jalailey...' type night happening somewhere. These nights of dancing girls and drunken revelling still happen in that side of the hills.

As always, no one wanted to head home on the last day in the hills. So we decided to take the path less taken. Head to Ramnagar on our way back to Delhi. One of the most stellar decisions of my life. It led us to unpronouncable picturesque location after picturesque location. We stopped at what I call the rooftop of the world. Camped on the rooftop of a house perched atop a mountain peak, sipping sweet thick tea and dunking buscuits. It looked out onto miles and miles of hills, all below us. The mountains streaked by landslides...and a bulldozer trying to clear off a path among the fallen earth. It looked like an ant trying to burrow into an anthill. The biggest worry we had was a crack that

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we saw developing just above or what looked like just above the bulldozer. After what I think was a couple of hours pondering the crack and the misty hills beyond...feeling like kings, we moved on to Corbett. Missed lunch and ended up at a sweet little hotel amidst the corbett national forest. And so started the discussion on how we can stay the night here and still end up in Delhi in time to go to work :-) Somehow, reason prevailed, and we set off. Not before stopping off at a small crossing where the river was unabashedly flowing over the road to show chinks some crabs and fishies again. Crossing it and heading home, we reached Delhi. The travel bug inside us satisfied for now. Happily sleeping till the next unplanned trip to the hills! I shall be sure to take chinks along...She brings out the best in all of us...

I loved this trip. Loved the 'On the road' feeling where we just stayed at hotels for the heck of it and spent most of our time on the road. That it transcended time and location effortlessly, just like wanderlust does. And adored the fact that a child was growing up loving the hills, the rivers, the lady bugs and pebbles. Shyla, laado, chinku-pinku, my violent child, guchu, chinkad-binkad, nautanki, natak company...she goes by many names...but she is the child of life itself. A tiny little parcel of possibilities. A bundle of energy and a babe in the woods. When it comes to winning hearts, she's a natural! Love you chinks!!! 

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Interesting architecture...views to die for...and time enough to waste it as I liked....My diwali gift to myself. This Diwali, since we are not celebrating, we decided to head out of town to Kothgarh. A friend has houses and orchards there. It is truly the back of beyond and the edge of existance!

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I took time to play my fill of scrabble thanks to the new internet pluggie. Irfan, Amit & Saaz played cards to their hearts content. Everyday, we would get up arond 10. Make interesting breakfasts...pancakes, paranthas and gorge on them sitting in the sun! And everyday I got one more more treat...the chance to explore a couple of hill houses. I always thought they were charming...but never really knew how charming!

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We found one perched at the edge of a cliff...on Saazid's land. My favourite. It was made in 1926! The fire stains on the cieling, the remains of a fire out front and the texture of the wooden beams...all had stories to tell. If you sat down and opened your ears. We did! We had a great time eating oranges by the dozen..soaking in the evening sun and talking about the ghost who haunts the house since the time the owner had an affair with someone else! The entire structure was made of wood and it seemed like the sun, the rain and all the elements have had their way with it. AND we could feel that there was a story linked to it. Untold. Unheard!

Then there was this charming little guest house that we found, which had a garden overlooking eternity. Next to a man made lake...A tiny little garden with a white picket fence. And views that imprint themselves on your mind and your heart!

One day we had lunch at Haatu...a huge hotel (by kotgarh standards) and really the only place to eat out where you can find a decent meal in that side of the hills. But the sun was shining...and trees were blooming and we had nothing better to do!

Then there was this new house getting made...Saazid's masi's house...Balconies that looked out into the valleys below. Rooms that had picture windows the size of my house and a garden to die for! But then I liked the old house better which had a porch overlooking the valley but was compact and cosy inside. And their son had a bedroom in the attic which truly looked out into the sky!

I have left the best for last. Saazid's own house! The house that we stay in and have stayed in ever since we started going to kothgarh in the 90s. It is a beautiful 3 story stone stucture which opens out into flat land on ever floor (like most hill houses do). So the ground floor has accss to the front courtyard...the first floor where most of the activity happens has a back porch nestled against the side of a mountain and the 2nd floor which has all the cosy bedrooms opens out into the level just below the servant huts. The view from every floor is beyond awesome. And the house itself is airy and light filled without compromising the cosiness of it. Books littered everywhere from bookcases to beds to floors to tables..and little reading corners in every corner of the house. I especially love my perch in the balcony overlooking the valley and the sitting room window which again overlooks the valley below.

I forgot the mention the many many unknown houses which I saw silouhetted agianst the sky on my walks through kothgarh market (a collection of 5 shops that sell vegetables and general stuff). Interesting shapes, sizes, people, hills. A varied eclectic collection each more delightful than the last one. I love the hills. And my promise to myself is that I will get one to retire in, whenever I do retire!

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Come long weekends, we all head out in the rush to make the most of the snippets of time that work affords us. That is exactly what we all did when we headed for the hills on the April 6th weekend. We had 4 days on our hands and nowhere to go!! In retrospect, I think that was the best thing to ever happen to us.

We took an eicher map, a subscription to MapMyIndia.com on AirTel Live, a car and 4 willing souls who just wanted to get out of there. To see the green hills, smell the pine, feel the chill etc etc.

So we took out the map and marked the road, which is marked here on the left, and headed towards Kasol. Till Dharampur it was a normal, everyday simla trip. But the moment we crossed the turn, the roads grew emptier and narrower, the scenary grew more beautiful and the villagers grew friendlier. We crossed amazing territory, untouched valleys which had nothing in them.

It was a journey of discovery. Of finding that there are still untouched places in the himalayas if you just take the path less taken. Did you know that there are at least a hundred national parks in the Himachal belt? It was a time to take your time and smell the pine, to pee by the roadside supposedly hidden by the car doors. To stop where you want to stop and discover places that you had never heard of.

We discovered a ruined fortress. The kingdom of Arki. We felt like Columbus! Stayed at a palace. We met a real live Raja. And we felt like the raja must have felt every morning when he looked into his small little kingdom tucked away in the valley below the palace.

It was the perfect opportunity to explore the ruins of the ancient Deewan-e-khas and stables. Of meeting the King and hearing of days long gone. We too have stories to tell. Stories of moonlight walks and slick roads on a rainy night. Stories of how a king is struggling to restore his palace in its former glory.

We have cameras and phones full of pictures which cannot hope to capture the magnitude of the beauty we saw sprawled before us. The private gardens of the king with trees whose names we had never heard. the history that hung on the walls of each room in that house. The paintings on the walls of the Deewan-e-khas, on each arch! How can you hope to capture at least 50 different paintings, each as intricate as the next one? How can you even hope to do justice to the pictures when each angle through the ruins looks just as enchanting as the other.

It was a trip back in time. To hear a raja boast that he never had to hang anyone in his time. To hear the talks of long walks with Sardar Patel and the indian freedom struggle. To feel the dampness and darkness of the karagaar, so dark that the darkness seems to settle around you even on the brightest of days. I almost missed the open sky in the few moments that I was inside!

It was a journey of excitement, of grabbing the opportunity when it was found. Of plummetting toward the centre of a rope strung across the river and then pulling your way back to the shore. Hanging on for dear life above a river which sped under you. To feel the world slipping away. To repent the time when you found the bridge and convinced the others of the wisdom of 'Trying it out'. And then the victory of managing to pull yourself back to the ledge and to dear life!

 A great trip. A great drive across the most sprawling valleys. Through the most amazing 3 km tunnel cut right across the belly of a mountain! On the slickest of roads and the bumpiest snakiest paths on which only one vehicle passes. Of finding settlements where the river runs and yummy treats on the menu. Of finding little cottages at the edge of a cliff. Of paying as little as Rs. 150 a night and still keeping a straight face while asking for a discount!! (Not me - Nupur!!)

Kasol is little settlement on the way to Manikaran where the Israelis have run off to after the Puppies took up Dharamshala! Right next to Malana with access to the best Malana cream you can get your hands on! Where you can take a walk through the quaint little eateries and little pathways sneaking next to the river. Where you can discover restaurants in the middle of nowhere. The forests have hand painted signs that lead you to Banofi Pie and Apple Strudle!!

And Kutteer Cottage is a beautiful set of 2 cottages set in a garden, perched at the end of a cliff. Here, you can come home to wood pannelled walls and a tiny little patio which shields you from the rain. You can ask for Aloo ka paranthas when you are sick of the pasta, and the baguettes dished out by the restaurants! You can cook in the kitchen set on one terrace of the three level garden! And you can pick gorgeously red blooms off trees!!

I came back with a soul full of memories. Memories of walks from Kuteer to kasol when I saw the sun tumble down a dry creek where water used to be and I saw a snow capped mountain framed perfectly by two green slopes! Of a walk in the forest looking for Malana cream and finding the perfect wading spot next to the gurgling river. Memories of the most elaborate breakfasts. One in the sun at a restaurant called Sasi - that served Snakes instead of Snacks and Brushkeeta isntead of bruschetta! One sheltered from the rain in our patio, sitting at the edge of a cliff. gorging aloo ka paranthas with amazing wild fruit achaar! And one on the terrace of the Arki palace with the moutains spread out before me instread of paranthas and sandwiches!

 Check out: http://hotelpalaceretreat.com/ for the Arki Palace

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My husband is a Shia muslim from Lucknow. But his heart lies in Utraula, the village where his family actually came from...and where he went during every summer holiday in his childhood.

He's been so pampered and the family known so well that he can do anything in Utraula and get away with it! He can sleep anywhere, eat in any house. Enter any house and ask for tea or something to eat. Where everyone knows him! To him Utraula = Uotpia!

Neways, we go there every year for 10 days during Muharram. It is a journey into wonderland for me. Where each house looks like its out of a rural themed movie...and the people are so sweet! And they all roam around in a naqab. Naqab for them, fancy dress for me!

Utraula is the place where I get time to actually talk to my mother-in-law about the family, about traditions and about the culture. Where I Iearn what my responsibilities are, as a bahu of the Jafri Khandaan. Where I learn what happens on each day of the 10 days of muharram. Each day, the agenda is different!

One day we spend the entire day getting 2000 cups of tea made for about 900 people. When we clean the house, set it up and light it up with candles for the mourners. Men in a Juloos to stop for a welcome sip of tea on a cold evening! And then we dissappear into the back of the house and leave the stage for the men of the house to disribute the tea and to invite them to come and read Nauhas* in our Imambara*.

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Every day women get together to read nauhas about the occurings of the day at Karbala. Every evening there are special dishes prepared to offer in a Nazar* to the ones who sacrificed their lives for the future of Islam.

For ten days, we essentially try to live the lives of the Shaheeds of Karbala*. We walk barefoot on glowing coals to simulate what the hot sand would feel like to the sensitive soles of children. We try not to eat or drink water throughout the 10th day to simulate what it was to stay without water for 3 days in the hot desert! Its a cultural revelation...no wonder Shias reach the heights of empathy during muharram!

Then there are those walks in the winter sun with a small cousin who is eager to get to know his 'Bhabi' from the city. He takes me for walks to his favourite places in the country side. Through the fields of mustard, discovering little Mazaars* tucked away in a bough of trees. Following our shadow though dirt tracks into the backyard of the village. I get to meet his goat, his friends, check out his house. And I get to see the lands that we supposedly own in the village.

Its a world away from reality (my reality at least!). Amazing...a little hectic...but an experience to treasure!

Glossary:
Nauha - A verse describing or mourning the events of Karbala set to a tune
Imambara - A corner of the house where the symbols of Karbala are decorated and kept during muharram
Taabut - A coffin to represent someone's life sacrifice
Alam - A weapon of war used by Hazrat Abbas in the battle of Karbala
Nazar - Food and other items are held in offering for the people who have passed away. They say if the naazar is consumed by the pure of heart, it reaches the ones its offered for!
Shaheeds of Karbala - People who sacrificed their lives in the battle of Karbala
Mazaar - A monument made for a saint's burial place when he/she dies 

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Amit

Jump into the ganges

When you need to pay tribute to a woman who united the

family...when you need to celebrate the life of the bravest woman in the world..Where do you go? I

thought the perfect thing to do was to take the whole bunch to a place where they could be near her. They could forget the rest of the

world. And they could test their courage. So I took them rafting! To the ganga where we laid her soul to rest...

Wish I had been able to capture the cries of surprise when they hit the first rapid. Their faces when they came through it - soaked to the skin, trying to breathe normally agian after being hit by the ice cold water.

Irfan trying to PC with the rest of the family

The looks on their faces were something else! Excited to have lived through what would be a mere bump in the water compared to what they would go through an hour later...pure adrenaline! Just the stuff that coursed through your veins whenever you got excited...Wish you could have been there. But I'm sure you were. There is no way in the world you could stay away from a party!

The ganga, the camp, the water, the rapids and the sun. They all conspired to make mom's birthday just as memorable as it would have been if she were alive. I love you mom! And I promsie I shall try my level best to keep them together....

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Ah Shilon...the sunsets - absolutely delicious. More than made up for the abysmal food!

 I loved the little pathways around the resort on which you felt like you could walk forever. The way the sunlight made the red creepers glow like christmas lights on a pine tree....but then chail forest always does intrigue me...makes me think of Anne's song. It fills up my senses..it really does!

The smell of pine...the touch of that velvet wind. Somehow even in the deep winters, there is a softness to the air around the place. The sight of those fiery creepers insidisouly climbing a tree here and a tree there. The taste of piping hot chai made with ass milk (yuk!) - but hey it tastes good after a trek up the dry creek! And the sound of the wind which alway sounds to me like it was borrowed from a waterfall...hmm yummy! Easy to fall in love with...

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Dharamshala...my place in the hills that I used to dream of. Where I had left a couple of memories behind when i went there in college. A best friend who wasn't a friend anymore and a friend who had changed into the best friend i never knew. Confusing isn't it...memories are!

Dharamshala...where the green, foggy hills ended in 'khuds' that I remembered abandoned with a monk here and a monk there making their lonely journeys to some unknown destination.  

When the car entered Dharamshala, I was asleep, and tired from the traffic jam we went through. From the moment I opened my eyes, my worst nightmares had come true. We were suddenly in crowded delhi with cars fighting for parking, honking, people screaming. Ugggh. Where was I? Where was dharamshala?

Apparently the dharamshala that I knew had turned into this heaven for Puppy families from Amritsar, Chandigarh etc. Where the quaint little eateries I remembered had turned into Pujabi Vaishno Dhabas!

We somehow scrambled to make the best of the trip by prompty leaving for Dharamkot. The new dharamshala...Not! The mountains were the same, the rolloing fog reminded you of the dharamshala of yore...but there were no bands of wandering gypsies, jamming on the sidewalk...no tiny eateries serving the best food you ever tasted...no screaming bhagsu falls cutting its way through the rocks...

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The pictures that you see here are just us trying to explore the mountainside...the lake turned into a puddle...the green hills that assauged our anger by their dewy freshness.

Bhagsu nag was a tricking stream...it's anger chanelled into a blue tile lined mosnter swimming pool with a diving board crawling with insect like children...

But we sought out the trickle and proceeded to make the best of the time spent there wading into it and doing our touristy bit of drinking beer and taking pictures...

Then back to the dharamshala market for some shopping and headed home...salvaged the trip by picking out an eatery that still served good food. Buying tibetan herbs by the potful on the way.

Now, everytime I want to go back...I call up the Sorig company and order some tea...there goes a dream!!

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It's a little tiny town in the midst of Rajasthan. The entire 'gaon' is riddled - yes practically riddled with Havelli's. Tiny, dilapidated, grand, beautiful, ugly....all kinds! When the guide takes you into havellis where people are actually living and you get that awkward feeling of intruding on someone else's home...you realise how much the tourism dollar actually means in their lives - for them to let just anyone passing by enter their homes. And how much of ancient architecture, traditions and culture are woven into the very being of india.

The drive out is a sigh for a sore mind...mustard flowers...rambling desert...the sunshine creates dusty fingers from between dried old tree limbs. The dust particles swirl into a million designs made by god...

The mandawa palace resort is an elegant old style building. Where the grandeur of old furniture and architecture collides with the absence of luxuries like carpeting, air-conditioners, TVs etc. But you have to taste it to believe it. A couple of my friends thought it would fit right into a horror movie!

The desert resort is a re-built oasis with the sands and shrubbery licking at it's heels. Feels like an island of inhabitation in the middle of nowhere...But it tries to hard to behave like Rajasthan...or the vision of what Rajasthan is in touristy brochures. None-the-less its an experience not to be missed!

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Imagine a soft sand beach...warm during the peak of winter..and rapidly cooling as night falls. Where in the coldest of nights, when you dig down, you can still find sand still warm from the caresses of the sun. Meandering pathways around the beach marked out with smooth stones - inhabitants of the gurgling, splashing, bubbling, at times screaming river flowing alongside the area! Tents ranging from large dining tent to tiny toilet tents complete the look of a miniscule city in isolation in the himalayas.

It's a place that you go to forget that the rest of the world exists. Where nothing else truly matters except the river and the mountains and the temperature of the water! Rishikesh!!

No wonder adventure seekers from all over the world congregate there. And NO wonder at every bend of the river you see a different city of tents. The good thing is that you cant hear them...can't see them.  Except when you are floating by on a raft heading to the white waters and wave good bye to them...

I don't know what I love more - the experience of seeing a white wave in the face when going 'high side' on the raft to prevent it from tipping over...or floating on my back on the calm waters of the Ganga watching the mountains float by beside me.

My respect for good guides who know the river so intimately that he can tell you about each curve, each pockmarked rock skyrockets when I go through a rapid at just the right moment and at the right angle to experience the thrill of it. And my love for the brilliant water, and the sun and the mountains spills over into a warm cuddly feeling for the guy who changed the raft into a helicopter and tipped us over at just the right spot so that we could all dry out in the sunshine before hitting the beach. Aaah I loved Kieran - What can I say. Guess what...even my husband loves him.

I can go on and on - about the brilliance of the stars at night which lit up the pitch darkness of the mountainside...the warmth of the bonfire when the wind blew chilly across the sand.. and the quiet stillness just about broken by the gurgling of the water at night so that even if you got up in the middle of the night, you knew excactly where you were...but that would be too much...Wouldn't it?

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