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. . .

I Miss you

Though we are under the same sky,

Seems aeons went speeding by.

Every time you have to go,

Makes me want ever more.

Of the craziness that pervades us,

I miss you,

being just Us!

Of excitement that,

the rush it creates,

The Hope that I have,

for Long,

Now I lived in.

Sometimes I wonder,

If there's an end,

would not be able to bear,

the prick of this pin.

relationships

The heart of one person moves another's.- Daisaku Ikeda

Our interaction with others mirros the inner realm of our own lives. It is here that our lack of wisdom or compassion is starkly revealed. It is here that arrogance and cowardice are glaringly exposed. For these reasons, it's often easier to avoid interaction with others rather than trigger these less desirable sides of our character.
We can quit or job or dump a love interest just so many times before we find ourselves gradually becoming chronically unemployed and terminally lonely. Avoiding the problems of human interaction is to succumb to more negative influences. It is to allow ourselves to wallow in the muck and mire of our own lesser self. And that's not happiness.
There is a great line from the movie As Good As It Gets starring Helen Hunt and Jack Nicholson that says it best.
Nicholson plays a self-absorbed curmudgeon who has unexpectedly fallen for the younger Hunt. They find themselves on a date, of sorts, in a nice restaurant in Baltimore. She finaaly demands in exasperation that he stop talking about hinself and say something complimentary to her or she's going to walk out of his life. This is his one shot at touching her heart. But again he begins talking about his problems, his way of life, his priorities. he gets up to leave when finally he says, "You make me want to be a better man." At first she hears only that it's something else about him. But then realizes the compliment. She has become important enough to him for him to want to change himself for the better in order to keep her.
Relationships that matter enough for us to wish to become better people are a crucible for inner transformation, lasting happiness and the cornerstone of world peace.
-Gaudioso & Martin.

Bücher

And, 

I  got this cheap, so well, 

And, 

I love the intoxication ,

Of the pages,  how they smell 

Oh, did I mention my eyes swell'

Spiralling downward in the optimistic well,

I reminisce the times, 

I read this in my cell. . .