*Star*

Forget me not

Make a wish

The shining star

twinkles

in all its bliss

Fading to oblivion

makes me miss

The Joy,

in the laughter of his.

Aaaachhhooooo!

Lucifer orders the flu to fly away,

enough of curse has already been laid.

To the sand land,

Across the sea,

the flu has to come back,

from where it flee.

Go to sleep I say,

the best remedy so said.

Just keep hearing what others say,

little an effect it creates,

take care.

Rapture

Captured I was,

little by little.

In a world of rapture,

understanding the riddle.

Suddenly, the orbit changed,

signals lost,

reasons lame.

Sand slipped,

I kept reflecting,

did he forget,

I too was existing?

Fire Sparks

May be you forgot,

but I didn't!

You promised to come,

but the 'soon' was in its truest,

never meant.

Now you tell me

you'll sit by the fire,

enjoy honey,

but do reflect back

on what made you -

a liar.

Jammu Travailler

From: 05 January - 10 January 2010

Where: The City of Temples, Jammu Tawi

Purpose: educational, religious, relaxation, formality...

Suddenly the lady calls, "Pack your bags and prepare to leave for Jammu, or else plan your teaching practice independently in March." And there goes the sleepless nights my mutti is known for, the ever existing itch my vati shows and the excitement I am completely unconsciously waiting for.

The fog bound weather and biting chill of Delhi reminds us to pack woollens as if for a new settlement plan where we were heading. Being on the hilly terrain geographically, it was blessed with sunshine and clear blue skies on one day and the numbing cold the other, a warm welcome indeed.

And then opens the bag of unknown knowns. Tightened security giving way to illogical rules and likes to finding only one Cafe Coffee Day in the whole of Jammu city, the second on the way to Vaishno Devi (a holy shrine with historical significance, religious beliefs to blind faith). Blind faith? Devotees walking barefoot 12 to 13 kilometres one way. Who ever thought of the Pavan Hans and Deccan helicopters at your service only on a clear day, thank you from the depths of my heart. It was at least a saviour for us. But only one way. A 3 hour gap are a must before you plan your journey backward to Katra (base station).

On the way, scaring and scared monkeys, snatching the plastics from the hands of devotees (how about having them in Delhi working for the ban on plastics' movement?). But they all are god's messengers.

An argument with the hilly boy, his red cheeks, reminiscent of the fresh air and good health, offering a horse back ride till the Bhawan, that's where the holy shrine is placed. But, it didn't look like a horse, it was a khachar, a mix between a donkey and a horse. A clear recollection of the haunting ride from Chandanwari, a militant infested area in Srinagar, and the khacharwalking on the side of the little track, towards the ghati, made me argue till I was convinced that the boy will not accept his to be a not a horse. Never mind.

The darshan were luckily peaceful. Again got desperate to own a SLR as soon as possible. Picturesque images on memory paper only. Though my phone cam was all the way faithful, in its power.

The hotel - Hotel Asia, a motel if standardised internationally, but good enough to wake up to take the next day's challenge energetically.

A college - full of chicks, hens, girls my age talking pure Punjabi I thought was alien. The 1st day - "Oh, just acquaint yourself with the college." The cold seeping my body via the feet that were resting on the cemented floor of the college class rooms through out. Each room holding 2 classes. At the same time. That's college again, but in a city that seemed like a district or a village moving towards getting its make up cake up.

Posted to a Govt. High School- converted from a stinky, dirty cattle shed, one section per class, so called teachers using guides as their teaching aids, children amused at this new group of ladies and their colourful, informative teaching aids, seniors acting like kids, kids already wanting to grow up by the minute, confusion, the stingy nosey principle, indisciplined pupils, completely informal atmosphere... This is where I put into practice my teaching lessons with a hope that a little might have been absorbed by the future of the world being completely wasted in the hands of so called creators and educators.

The traffic- believe me, Delhi is the most disciplined if I make a comparison. What I see on the high way as one-way traffic on NH- 24, they believe in dividing the lane for a smooth way. It doesn't have to be making sense, but congested routes do make sense to the travellers.

Transportation- little matadors- thronging with people from all the sides. Travel anywhere in Jammu for 5 rupees. No Black and yellow taxis. The complete black auto wheelers, charging on the basis of the status and class they think you might belong to.

The food- at last was the one thing I relished - cheaply priced and double the quantity-quality.

Not to forget the Chocolate burfi's known widely in and around India. Since 1934.

Sightseeing- apart from wish granting to mythologically surveyed cavey temples, a castle of Hari Singh- the King because of whom the rule of not letting any foreign company set its foot permanently on Bharat's soil is still active. His throne made of 100 kilograms worth of gold on which he ruled, his castle looking like hand picked from London, Renaissance architecture, an artist's impression of the dashavataars to the electronically operated horse for Hari Singh as a prince to master his horse riding skills, the Knights, Crowns and the Orders bestowed on him...rich history. The Jammu Tawi - the river, now all dried, looking up the clear blue skies to paint it grey and cloudy.

The Dogri's, the natives of Jammu city. Neither the language nor the race is any more alive. Its almost on the brink of extinction. So much so that this lad who claimed his ancestors to be of Dogri Origin prefers to tet-e-tet in English or Hindi rather than his mother tongue. It seems more cool to him rather than the understandability factor.

All this in a place I have heard so much praise about.

Getting hand in hand with the commoners, the inhabitants of Resham garh, living the life and seeing it through the lens of India, is the only simplistic way of getting to know the real magical India, which opens it colours to you just after you start mixing two colours revealing a new shade as your fingers work through... I love my India. . .