Romancing childhood and bygone era

IMG_9082I often reminisce in the beauty of the by gone.

I often rekindle my romance with my past, my childhood and the crazy little things that filled me with joy.

I more often than not feel full of remorse when I compare today from tomorrow.

I am old school or am I turning old, I hold on to anything that connects me with my fading youth.

I am all of 27, not very old. But I think I have an old soul.

These are the random thoughts that create a mesh in my mind and heart all the time. I think of childhood to such extents like I live in it even today.

Childhood was a wonder.

Childhood was to play.

Childhood saw promise of days after days

It meant freedom that all our hearts pined for. It meant being able to go to cinema, to stroll the by lanes that were lesser known. Childhood meant hopes, youth and aspirations.

They say that the grass is always greener on the other side. The child in me pined to pace up my growing year’s, and here I am yearning to go back. There are things that need to be undone. There are things that needed to be said then. They were steps to be taken backwards. Steps to make amends.

The randomness of it all is that while all I wish to do with my past is to make amends to most of it, I still hold on it. I wonder about the reason behind this connect. Aah! It’s the promise of youth or is it the simplicity of life and a heart bright and young that hasn’t tired itself already?! Or is it the era that I miss?!

Today seems cosmetic. Today is crazy. Today is running, sometimes with me and mostly way ahead of me. It’s a tiring run against dreams of the years gone by and what I really set to achieve. Sometimes I am happy living in today and sometimes how I regret it. I find peace in old advertisements, flip through albums and raise my eyebrows with a silent chuckle remembering an old anecdote.

Oh! I have anecdotes. They are from Delhi as it was in 91, they are from Allahabad way before malls touched base there, and they are from Patna where time seemed to have come to a permanent stand still.

I live in two parallel universes. I live in my past but reside in my future. And while I ponder as to my identity, I remember these lines by Ruskin Bond- “It’s not time that passes by. It’s you and I.

Doing and un-doing of an Idealist

‘Dream on, dream on O’ young one,

Dream on..’

Dream on

Dream on

Her words trailed into the silence and oblivion of that summer night. Unintentionally, she planted a seed in my young heart. I struggled to get sleep just as most young kids do. The creature comforts of city home were being missed.

I speak to you of the summer of 1996. It was the era of pop-music culture and TV. There were channels other than ‘Doordarshan & DD Metro’ and life was pretty much good. Kids had time to play and also watch TV. There was strict discipline around most things and yet there was this sense of freedom that today’s day and age cannot match.

That summer was one of the harshest summers I had known. The afternoons bore the brunt of a livid sun and the night cradled on miserably, while hot air blew the last drop of water from our bodies. I found comfort in the arms of my grandmother. Night was the best time to know her. She transformed into an angel by the night; an angel with flair of narrating stories.  Some were folk tales from the eastern belt of Uttar Pradesh, while others were cooked to cater to the needs of her grandchild.

Dream on, she said every single time. The more she said, more I embedded it. I dreamt of many things and places. My dreams had no rational boundaries. I dreamt to be a newspaper delivery person, a milkman, a post office clerk, a cycle shop owner and there was no end to it. No matter what else she said, I captured only one line from her entire story, dream on. I waited for her to complete her stories so that we could say ‘dream on’ in one breath. A breath so precious; a breath that was mine and hers.

As years passed by, our visits to the village dwindled. Her stories were replaced by class work and home work discussions. Meanwhile, I tucked in one corner of my heart her memory of advising me to ‘dream on’.

I dreamt on like she said. I dreamt of all goodness in the world. I dreamt of fairness, love, respect and humanity. I admired those who smiled. I wanted to embrace so many things from souls around me. I dreamt on like she had said.

I grew up to be a hopeful young woman facing challenges. It sunk in gradually that dreaming on was a struggle. A struggle against day to day. A struggle against beliefs so deeply rooted. A struggle against comfort one finds in normative behavior. Battling through, my resilience has been tested time and again. Losing many and maneuvering through some, lessons of great importance have been learnt. My learning includes greater awareness of minds and their limits. Wearing your heart on your sleeves, I realize is a thing of past.

The journey albeit limited by years of experience has been enriching. I have managed to change mindsets of a few with my idealism. My strength reinstated by way of fleeting moments of shared belief.

I intend to dream on, as long as I survive. Willing to survive the odds, the miseries such a life entails because what may seem tough bears the sweetest fruits. Dreaming on, just as she said.

Mukteshwar Times

_MG_4035“There is great affinity between trees and men. We grow much at the same pace, if we are not hurt, or starved or cut down. In our youth we are resplendent creatures, in our declining years we stoop a little, we remember, we stretch our brittle limbs in the sun, and then, with a sigh, we shed our last leaves”

The Kitemaker -Ruskin Bond

A beautiful sunny day in the lap of virgin hills and there I lay stretching my tired limbs. Reading these lines in the environs of Mukteshwar was more than just apt. It was more than a coincidence. How I am in the hills amidst Deodar and Banj trees, soaking up the October sun, listening to the birds around me chatter in their sing song ways, reading this book. All of it seems right, the text and the surroundings. It is as if I were meant to read it here and feel the way I do. I gently stroke my arm to comfort my skin after a bout of goose bump sprout. I hear the house dog bark in response to the Koel’s call and return to my book.

Purple haze

Purple haze

I borrowed freshness from daisies

I borrowed freshness from daisies

It’s October and Delhi is just preparing for winter tales. All of us have winter tales. But ask a soul from the plains to describe the sense that December sunshine in the month of October generates. I am already experiencing December winters here in Mukteshwar. It has been a hectic early morning drive to reach our home for the next two days. But I am not one bit tired. I am fresh as a daisy but all I wish to do is rub my tired self on the grass carpet that rests right beneath me, just as a soul of the nature would do. I have been in this frame of mind since we arrived. I realize that the sun is fading and chill reaching my bones. Reluctantly, I pull myself and my belongings together, brush aside the grass on my clothes and head to respond to the call of the house cook. He says, “Didi, your lunch is ready” He asks my choice to dine in or dine out. I insist on dining in as the chill in the air is catching up.

I am indoors and it is my first visit to the in-house library since my arrival to the property. It is not really a library. More a compilation of books on travel, Uttaranchal and it’s wildlife. I suspect some books have just been kept after lazy, unorganized travelers left them behind on the corner stool in the room. After all my consideration, I pick up a book on birds of India. It is an obvious choice as I have been bullied by my husband to pick it up. Who other than his own bird loves many others of the bird species. I flip through and make a resolve to identify them all as and when we spot one. It has been more than year to our marriage and I have picked up bird watching. Occasionally doing a better job than he does but we rarely reach a consensus on this claim. We disagree on birding and more than just agree on the food.

The aroma of fresh spice was an integral part of our food

The aroma of fresh spice was an integral part of our food

There is a thing about good food and us. We rarely disagree. Our stomachs might but we don’t. Ever. That said we have been served local Kumaoni delicacies such as ‘Bhatt daal’ and locally grown rice. The rest of the vegetables have been cooked in a way specific to Kumaon. The produce used is fresh and tastes divine. We relish the food but our greedy soul still asks for more. The house cook promises an equally mouth-watering evening snack. We believe his word; silently agree not to tip him if he doesn’t keep his end of the bargain. And Oh boy! Does he surprise us! He does! We have our own bonfire, and here are the husband and wife staring at the seekh that holds chunky, juicy pieces of chicken. We hear the house cook call out, “Didi, chicken tikka theek rahega kya?” Feeling mortified at our suspicion, we nod our heads in enthusiasm. He smiles back, knowing he has bowled us over. We salivate while it is being cooked and then use the juices in our mouth to feel what food in heaven should taste like. Overstuffed with the evening snack, we still show the audacity of checking about the dinner menu. He smiles and we rest assured.

Fresh lime, anyone?

Fresh lime, anyone?

While our food obsession continues, we get distracted by the beauty of where we are. That is the thing that pulled us from Delhi. The property is set in a fruit orchard and the material used for construction is mostly local. The décor is minimalistic and comforts have been taken care off. We have a lavish bath, comfortable bed and a window that runs from one corner of the room to another. It is our own window to the beauty of Muketshwar. The hill that we see from our room window is virgin. We don’t see a single light on that side of the hill. We hear stories about how the leopard once attacked the house dog. We have to believe him as poor Buzo carries the scars from his encounter with the leopard.



There is a thing about animals here in Mukteshwar they all seem like our own. Or maybe it is a thing with us, we make them our own wherever we go. I will write about that some other time. So, we have a variety of cats and dogs here. Some have names, the others don’t. We have Buzo, the beautiful Bhutia dog. Then there is Shorty (the cat), Tintin (the ferocious cat), Skippy (the most adorable scared dog) and a fresh litter of kittens. They are tiny, like very tiny. All these animals are family to us during our stay. We meet them in the morning, afternoon & evening. Our hosts ensure that we meet them every time we cross their side of the property. The Kittens are irresistible. At first, they are reluctant to play their little games in front of us intruders. Then they just grow used to our presence as we don’t budge. They indulge in acrobats, they indulge in fights and their most precious indulgence is that with Skippy. Skippy is more of a cat than a dog. She mothers them. They play with her and find comfort in her fur coat._MG_4854

We have covered our trek of the property, spotted two new types of birds and eagerly await our morning trek to meet the animal gang next morning. Post lunch, we sit by the fire and later in the evening gaze at stars. I haven’t seen so many for some time. Last memory from Corbett was fading. Here is my reminder of how a starlit sky should look like. Dinner served. Us elated. We move to our cozy room and gaze at the sky from our beds. Anupam is quick to switch off the lights so that we feel as if we are underneath the sky. I sense his chest swirl up upon his achievement. We chat, I insist he reads out to me. I dose off in no time but hey! I hear his sigh of relief!_MG_4773

We hear birds and we hear a faint call of “Didi’. We know it’s the house cook. I am fresh and husband is reluctant as ever. I remind him of the beautiful vistas, the sun rise and the BIRDS. Here he is, springing out of the bed. He is ready in no time and off for his trek.

Mukteshwar is a beautiful and quaint town. We are visiting it in off season and on a weekday. That’s the perfect time to visit an otherwise populated Mukteshwar. We roam around as if we own the town. The locals greet us and are ever willing to share tales. We visit the ‘Chauli ki jali’ Indulge in things husband likes. Chauli ki Jali is one of the best spots for rappelling and rock climbing. I refrain from both and take up the task being the photographer of the day. Husband is all pepped up and poses willingly. He even manages to take a call for payment reminder while on his way up! He is upbeat and can’t get over his enthusiasm of having checked off his to do list for the trip. We trek back to the city square, scan local items and settle for a cup of chai with one of the most beautiful sights of our trip, a sun set._MG_5014

The sky is in myriad shades of blue, yellow and orange. We cozy up, sip on warm tea, wish that we never had to return and seal the trip with a few speechless moments of love.

The Goat Village

The 180 degree view of the 'Bandarpoonch Range'

The 180 degree view of the ‘Bandarpoonch Range’

Imagine a panoramic shot in an ace travel magazine and then picture yourself in that setting, that is the sentiment ‘the goat village’ experience stirs up! Sitting in our humble abode in Delhi, two white collared workers wanted nothing more than solitude and fresh air in their city lungs. The Goat Village fit our bill and we decided to explore it. The Goat Village has been set up at an elevation of approximately 2000 meters. The nearest motorable road ceases to exist at a popular village known as ‘Pantwari’ (popular as the base camp for the NagTibba trek). This is where the most gorgeous part of the journey began. The city bred lungs worked hard and screamed for relief that the trek put us through. An hour long trek and a million beautiful vistas later our eyes saw a trail of goats descending from a seemingly flat land. We heard the Goat Village guide tell us that’s where we would belong for the next two days. We exchanged glances and secretly applauded each other for making it to the top. Yes, that’s what we thought it was until we reached and saw the towering ‘Bandarpoonch range’ right across where we stood. The view seemed unreal and the sky couldn’t have been bluer. We stationed ourselves on the wooden stools made out of tree stumps and gaped endlessly. Our trance was only broken by our host greeting us and handing over gorgeous buransh (rhododendron) bouquets. That’s when we realized that we had our own heaven. Warm tea washed away the fatigue and chatter ensued. The chatter was that of the elements of nature at their very best. The wind, the birds, the sky and its blue were all in sync and it was literally lyrical!

New abode for the resident goats

New abode for the resident goats

We were treated to the world’s best meal throughout the duration of our stay. The display of Garhwali culinary skills was impeccable. The anecdotes and trivia revolving around food were a major inclusion of our food chronicles at the Goat village. We didn’t feel a pound heavier even after the ghee and love we were served with. That’s all we needed to brace ourselves for more of what Goat Village had to offer.

Corn on the cob

Corn on the cob

The Goat Village also organized our trek to Nag Tibba. The trek from the Goat Village is approximately 5 kilometers and one gains elevation of approximately 1000 meters. Our guide was a trained and certified instructor from the Nehru Institute of Mountaineering. We were in the best possible hands and successfully completed our first snow trek. The Goat Village is a one of a kind initiative by GreenPeople. The initiative intends to revive the local economy by way of utilizing local resources and produce. The Goat Village by definition is an initiative to bring back the goat herding culture, using by-products of goat rearing such as milk and goat’s cheese. With the increase in migration, many rural economic activities such as farming, animal husbandry and traditional craftsmanship is dying down. The GreenPeople intends to bridge this gap by bringing employment opportunities to the doorstep of the rural youth. Upon discussions with the locals who visit the site for work, one could sense the enthusiasm the GreenPeople has brought to the habitants of Pantwari village. The step farms around the Goat Village site that lay abandoned for years have suddenly seen the first harvest of spinach and tomatoes. The local artisans and masons are upbeat that their skill set is still in demand and their children would no longer be ashamed of taking up the family profession. The GreenPeople and its maiden site are not a mere business idea. It is a movement of self-sustenance and a step towards controlling the exodus of migrant population. A pious thought has been implemented wonderfully. Facebook page-  Green People Email- Contact-9818889005