Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Twenty Two – Thoughts on the Palestinian problem.

"Are you from India or from Pakistan"

I looked back… an aged person, who seemed to be an Indian… and was traveling to Jerusalem with his family… had asked this question to me. I said I am an Indian; so was he… only that his forefathers chose to settle in South Africa some 100 years ago. His ancestral home was in Pune.

"Sorry, if I may ask… are you a Muslim, Jew or a Christian". He wondered. I was none; I was a born Hindu, espousing the Buddhist philosophy… I could have been an atheist, but for a strange turn of events a few years back, that led me to believe that there was something super-natural. Call it God, call it Allah or call it Parameshwar. I, though, call him Shiva. But there was a very special aspect of my beliefs… that I came to know only when I was closing to Jerusalem.

"No sir, I am a Hindu… though had all my education in a Christian Missionary… and somehow feel close to Jesus, the Lord", I replied. Normally I wouldn’t have said that… This must have been a Freudian slip. The last time I went to a Church, out of devotion, was way back in 2001 when I went to Mount Mary Church in Bandra, with a Roman Catholic friend of mine… But there was something magical in the very thought of nearing a place where Jesus was born or crucified, where he lived for the well being of humanity, to take upon the pains we suffer from, to show us the way of the Lord.

The old man was a Muslim… he was accompanied by his wife, his son, his daughter in law, and grand children. He worked in Amman, whereas rest of his family lived in Durban. As we neared the city of Jerusalem… he said something profound… He said- "This is the place that is the root of the entire problem in the Muslim world, from Morocco to Indonesia".

This was profound… It set me thinking if it is really so. How can a problem of Islamic radicalism in Indonesia or Bangladesh be related to Israeli occupation of Jerusalem. How can a brazen bombing in Casablanca derive its justification from the plight of Palestinians? … It is difficult to imagine this… but the pan Islamism is a truth, a stark truth… somehow a Muslim sitting in far flung corner of Indonesia identifies with the Palestinian cause… there is a unique sense of solidarity in suffering. However, it has a dark underbelly to it. Who leads this solidarity, who creates an atmosphere for this solidarity to germinate… does it have a political angle, and if it is used by some to propagate their leadership in an otherwise egalitarian religion.

I have always believed that the Palestine is an issue that concerns the entire humanity… it is an issue that should bother you and me, despite our religious affiliation. It is a question of ethics and morality… but in last few years this issue has been high jacked by religious fundamentalists. The Palestinian problem has been projected as a Muslim problem… as if no Christian lives in Palestine… as if a non-Muslim does not and should not have a locus standi on this issue. I, who has always believed in the teachings of Gandhi, feel disenfranchised- I feel somebody violates my right to support Palestinians in their struggle- just for being a non-Muslim.

It is very sad to see that a struggle that should have based itself on principles of justice, equality and truth… has deteriorated into a struggle emanating from hatred against the west and Jews… has got mutilated by a sense of ethnocentrism… a sense that assumes that American girls are of easy virtue just because they party and wear swim suits… and that assumes that Hindus are lowly creatures because they believe in Pantheism. I have heard many a times on the roads of Cairo, people voicing extreme hatred for Jews… and how all of them should be killed. It is not healthy. A wrong can't be undone by another wrong. An eye for an eye makes everybody blind. This is what Gandhi said… this is what the benevolence of Islam teaches.

The route to Jerusalem is a barren land… but the terrain is such that makes you exclaim. Road to Jerusalem is fenced on both the sides… the security measures are evident… on the road you start seeing signboards announcing the proximity of places like Ramallah, Jericho, Beit Sohour. For last two years, everyday I have heard names of these cities… mostly in the context of some Israeli attack or some demonstration. It was a strange feeling to be among it all.

Far away, I saw one of the most beautiful sights- the Golden dome of the Al Aqsa mosque complex. Jerusalem is recognized by it. One has to see it, to relish its beauty.

The bus dropped me at a place called Damascus Gate in East Jerusalem. It is one of the most important inlets to the Old City. Made in mid 1500s by the Ottomans… Damascus gate has witnessed the ravages of time, the tyranny of history… it stands as testimony to the vagaries of time.

I checked into a small place called New Palm Hostel… I was lucky to have arrived at this place… the place is small, outwardly shabby... but the atmosphere inside is friendly, warm and I met few very interesting characters over there.

East Jerusalem is almost totally Arabic and Muslim, with some small quarters of Christians. The chaotic markets make you wonder if you are in Israel or some crowded neighbourhood of Cairo or Damascus, though the similarity ends here… one more blink and you start seeing young conscripts with an automatic rifle in their hands, guarding the entire place… boys and girls, black and whites… they are a part of an experiment to create a society based on religion and religion only… without a dose of ethnicity, nationality and cultural similarity or lack of it. Pure religious identity. And on the face of it… it seems to be a successful experiment.

The owner of the place is from Hebron, an affable personality. The hostel was crowded by young Japanese girls, who seemed to be staying there for months…. There were few other families… Free internet, free tea and coffee and free dinner… the place was shoestring and yet very comfortable.

My next stop was going to be Bethlehem… the birth place of Jesus.

Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Twenty One – From Amman to Jerusalem.

Jerusalem, Al Quds is one of the most magical places on earth. It is the centre of three prominent religions of the world- Christianity, Islam and Judaism. When I first came to Egypt… I had promised myself that I will definitely see Jerusalem during my stay. And I did.

There are very few such places in the world- Varanasi and Gaya come close… both are considered very sacred for Hindus and Buddhists… Adam's peak is another such place in Sri Lanka, which is revered by Hindus, Buddhist, Muslims and Christians… but the importance attached with Jerusalem, pales them all in comparison.

The morning next I woke up early. It was a Saturday, the Sabbath… and the Allenby Bridge closes by noon. If I had to reach Jerusalem… I needed to rush. I went straight to the Indian Embassy and met my friend Noor…

Noor turned out to be a wonderful host… he has a cute little daughter that reminded me of my son… they must be of the same age. Noor insisted that before leaving for Jerusalem, I ought to have breakfast with him… we had delicious Poori-Subzi together… it was second time in ten days that I was having Indian food.

I had a very rough idea on how to reach Jerusalem… I went to three different bus stations before I could find the bus stop from where a bus goes to King Hussein Bridge. This Bus Stop is very near to Queen Alia Hospital… so any prospective traveler should ask for the bus stop near Queen Alia Hospital.

One can take either a bus or a taxi to the King Hussein Bridge Crossing. Bus, even though cheaper, often waits for a lot of passengers before it starts… I, therefore, took the taxi. And slept…

When I woke up… we were still driving towards the King Hussein Crossing. The road surprisingly had got narrower and worse, potholed at places, a far cry from otherwise impeccable roads in Jordan…probably the Jordanian side doesn’t want to encourage people traveling to Israel via this road. This is not very strange… the physical distance between Amman and Jerusalem is hardly 75 kilometers but the civilizational, sociological and psychological distance between them is almost unending. Mind you, I am talking about a country that historically has displayed maximum degree of proximity with Israel. More than Egypt, more than Turkey… the two other Islamic countries that recognize Israel.

Technically Jordan considers Palestine to be its own territory… under illegal Israeli occupation… that raises a question; what would be the status of independent Palestinian state in the West Bank… will it see a large scale intervention by Jordan- like what is seen in Lebanon (by the Syrians who do not recognize Lebanese sovereignty). Anyway, this creates another bizarre situation.

Jordan does not stamp your passport when you are going to Palestinian Territories from this route because you are technically going into its own territory (However, it does stamp your passport when you cross through other crossings- Jordan River crossing in North and Aqaba-Eliat Crossing in south, but they open in Israel and not the occupied Palestinian Territories); but does not fail to collect a hefty exit tax from people crossing over… seems to be illogical, but anything goes in this region.

The net result however is a boon for travelers- this is the only way to hide evidences of the fact that you ever visited Israel… the Jordanian do not put an exit stamp and Israelis do not put an entry stamp… which means that as per your passport, you were in Jordan during the time you visited Israel. Other ways of hiding the evidences have one give away or the other… like exit stamps from crossing that could only be used for crossing over to Israel… Taba in Egypt, Aqaba and Jordan River in Jordan; or unexplained period of absences… (say if you leave for Israel by air… you get a exit stamp from the country of departure… you come to Israel stay for a few days- avoid a entry and exit stamp… go back by air to another country… get a entry stamp in that country… you still cannot explain as to where were you in the intervening period… and this lack of explanation means only one country in the world, Israel- especially to rabidly anti-Israeli countries like Syria, Libya, Lebanon and Sudan)

Hundreds of Palestinians cross over from this crossing… they are herded like cattle… a very sad situation in a country that is considered a friend. For foreigners, however, there is another channel, much more comfortable…. Once the formalities are over… a special bus takes you to the Israeli side… while crossing the border one can see the Jordan River, on the banks of which Jesus was baptized…. The river, however, is just a trickle… having been exploited in the north… for many purposes at Sea of Galilee and other places.

There cannot be a more sudden transition… within a few kilometers; everything changes… the language, the attitude, the culture, the faces, the hopes and the exasperations. As soon as you enter the Israeli side the road widens up… the security apparatus becomes more modern; things are more organized.

Once in Israeli side, all of us underwent strict security check… of the kind which I haven’t ever seen… it was thorough and hi-tech… foreigners and especially those from friendly countries are spared from an obnoxious interrogation, so was I…. Israelis have started considering India as among friendlier countries, somehow. The Palestinians however have to undergo a very strict security check… they have to wait for hours before they are allowed to enter.

I ushered into a country that invites a high degree of hatred from its neighbors… a country whose existence has been threatened since its inception… a country that has fought more than 4 wars to justify its existence… a country that inspires and exasperates you in the same breath. There are only few countries that have been created from the scratch… that are truly multi-racial… US, Israel and may be Australia and Singapore. It is an amazing social experiment… and yet it leaves us with a lot of questions… are the aspirations of Palestinians secondary to the success of this experiment. Will we ever see genuine and long lasting peace in this trouble torn part of the world.

The official money changer in the Israeli side gave me 3.8 New Israeli Shekels for a dollar, in Jerusalem I got 4.2 NIS… it seems that everyone tries to fleece you… for the inaccessibility that Israel suffers from.

Anyway I was in Israel, trying to find my way to proceed to Jerusalem. This was easy… within minutes I was on a bus to Jerusalem, a city that has always evoked a strange emotion in me.

Thoughts on learning a new Language

Why this lull….

For last seven or eight days I have not written anything in my blog… one of the regular visitors asked me the reason…

So here is the reason. I am having a very important exam lined up on 26-28 of this month… this exam will test my skills in the Arabic language… my ability to translate to and forth, my skill of writing meaningful passages and my skill to conjure up meaningful conversation in Arabic. A tough ask, I must say, from a person who studied Arabic for two years while working for his daily bread.

The silver lining, though, is that I need only 60 percent marks to pass… and my skills in some parts of examination are very good… this will enable me to sail through.

Arabic is one of the richest languages… I am astounded by the scientific nature of this language… if you encounter any word, there is a very subtle manner in which you can deduce its rough meaning… and reading it in context, armed with the rough meaning, would enable you to reach the right meaning of the word. It is part of Semitic language family… that includes Arabic, Hebrew, and Aramaic (practically dead, was the language of Jesus) and Amharic (spoken widely in Ethiopia)…

Semitic language family is one of the many families of language… the idea of a family being… that there is a very close resemblance between all the languages in one family. So check out the resemblance between Arabic and Hebrew… (Salaam in Arabic becomes Shalom in Hebrew… and if you see how it is written… you will be amazed to notice the similarity)… So if you know one language in the family, then picking up another is not all that difficult. In fact, I will try to learn Hebrew after learning Arabic…(I met a Japanese girl in Jerusalem, who knew quite a bit of Arabic and was trying to learn Hebrew… she suggested me to take up Hebrew… and that after learning classical Arabic, I can learn Hebrew on my own).

India is blessed with a linguistic diversity which is unparalleled. We speak more than 25 prominent languages… out of these at least three have international clientele- Hindi or Urdu or Hindustani, Tamil and Bangla. Not many countries are endowed with this amazing diversity.

Say in USA… one would find predominantly English speakers, some Spanish speakers, some French speakers and some speakers of indigenous languages in Alaska. Russia is more endowed… Russian, Mongoloid languages… and some people speaking languages of Turkic group or Uralic group… China, despite its smaller size, is bit more diverse. Most speak Chinese, with some people speaking language of Turkic origin, some speaking Mongoloid languages and some speaking Tibetan family of languages.

Cut to India… practically every state has his or her own language… some states have more than one. But there is something unique in this diversity. India has more than a few Language groups in its fold… Indo-Iranian is one of the most dominant. Similarly Dravidian group is dominant in South India (also spoken in Northern and Eastern parts of Sri Lanka and parts of Balochistan)… we also have a big chunk in the northern and north eastern part that speaks language of Tibetan-Burmese origin. Add to this Urdu, that is predominantly used for colloquial purpose… can qualify as an amalgamation of Turkic, Indo Iranian and Semitic language. And not to forget that we are the largest population in the world speaking an Anglo Saxon- Germanic language called English. So practically, 4-5 language families have representation in India.

Now people have different views on the diversity… some feel that it is a roadblock in nation-building… some salute the diversity… I view it as a very selfish human being… what benefits can accrue from this linguistic diversity.

One benefit, without a doubt, is the richness this linguistic diversity provides to the pop culture… Good literature is being churned out, not so much in the most dominant language of India… as in less dominant languages like Tamil, Kannada, Malayalam, Oriya and Bangla. The best selling newspapers are not only in Hindi- but also in Telugu, Tamil, and Malayalam. The best television news channels in India are not in English or Hindi… but in Malayalam (see the quality of footages of Kairali and Asianet, and you will agree with me). Best movies are made not in Hindi but in Malayalam, Tamil and often in Bangla. This enrichment could have been forever lost if we were speaking only one language.

Another benefit is that it can help us in creating a Linguistically-literate society. We can start churning out people who have a very strong propensity to absorb new languages… How???

Scientific researches have shown that once a person knows 2-3 languages… it becomes incrementally easier for him to learn a new language. So a person who knows four languages will easily learn the 5th, whereas the one who knows only one will require a lot of effort to learn the 2nd. The practical examples are all around me… In the first semester of Arabic, I had a Canadian girl in the class- she knew Russian, English, and French…(three language of three different families), her performance in the class was way ahead of anybody else.

What happens? The more languages you learn, the more sensitive you become towards the linguistic diversity. So you start appreciating the fact that in Arabic… the majority of sentences start with verbs and not nouns or pronouns (like in Hindi or English)… or the fact that Arabic is a phonetic language… and how you make a particular sound makes a lot of difference in Arabic. Contrast it with Hindi, which is based on the kind of sound which is made… and not on how that sound is made. (Am I making sense, well give me benefit of doubt, I am no linguistic expert). The moot point being that more language you know, more sensitive you are towards inter-language variation and therefore more open you are to learn a new language.

Now that we know this- what do we do with this information? Well, apply it.

I believe that we will be doing a great service to our future generation if we make them start early in the pursuit of learning more and more languages. Some years ago, a three language formula was given by some politicians… it was a wonderful idea… let us start imparting three languages in our schooling system. The only idea being- let all these three languages be of three different family languages. One can be the mother tongue; other can be English and third can be a language of different linguistic family….

So a person in Uttar Pradesh will study Hindi or Urdu as his first language, English as second… and any of the Dravidian or Tibetan-Burmese language as his third language. Similarly a person in Tamilnadu can study Tamil as his first language, English as second and any Indo-Iranian or Tibetan-Burmese language as his third language.

This will do a lot of things… one it will go a long way in nation building… today one of the biggest problems we face is the linguistic and regional chauvinism… a North Indian doesn’t know how to differentiate between Tamilian and Kannadiga… and a South Indian doesn’t know how to differentiate between a Punjabi and a Bihari. Once we start knowing each others language… we will understand the beauty of their art, culture etc. (Most South Indian I have met think a Punjabi is very aggressive and rustic… similarly a lot of North Indians think that South Indians are too self centered and introverts… imagine if we read the best of Punjabi literature or we see the partying scene in Chennai… wouldn’t it shatter these unwarranted stereotypes)

Two we will be creating a vast group of linguistically empowered people…. People who can learn any language in the world… (Believe me; if our economy goes on growing at 9-10 percent every year for next 10-15 years, we will need such people). And if we start today, we will be ready within next 10-15 years.

Thirdly, if we would have started earlier… Arabic as a language wouldn’t have posed so much of a challenge for me…I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a language in which sentences start with a verb. Or the fact that the Ka sound in Hindi can be phonetically produced as Ka and Qa, and that in Arabic both are different. No one corrected me when I pronounced Waqt (time, in Arabic and Urdu) as Vakt. (The best example, however, is that Qalb in Arabic is Heart, whereas Kalb is a Dog)

Finally, Noam Chomsky says that "languages vary little in their deep structures; though there may be wide variability in surface manifestations"… knowing more than one language enables us to know this deep structure and be prepared to deal with the variability in surface manifestations….

This has a deeper and philosophical meaning, we all humans are same.

Some Predicament, this

Bundle up the Christmas and New Year holidays…garnish them with some unused Casual Leaves... and you get 10-12 days of pure bliss… called Vacation.

For me its traveling time… just that I am not able to decide.

Israel- Have seen Jerusalem and Bethlehem … but a lot remains… Haifa, Tiberias, Golan Heights, Seeing Druze villages.

Egypt- Wandering again in the Sinai… been there, done that and yet the beauty of Sinai is so bewitching that it still beckons.

Turkey- Istanbul often dubbed as the most interesting city in the entire world. Cappadocia, Ephesus, and Troy… add them all and you get a vacation of the life time… the only hitch… brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!! Its winter time.

Where to go, where to go, where to go

The predicament continues. Any suggestions.

Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Twenty – Jerusalem calling.

It was my ninth day in wandering… My return ticket to Cairo was due after 3 days… 1 day for further exploring Petra… still I was left with 2 more extra days….earlier in the night, I was having a chat with an American who was studying in Jerusalem.

When I started for the Levant, I wanted to do Syria, Jordan… I was told by many travelers that 10-11 days are not enough for Syria and Jordan… but I was still able to absorb quite a bit of Syria and Jordan within these few days. I was wondering if I had, actually, committed more than the required amount of days. The thought of staying in Jordan for two more days was killing me. I was mulling over the options I had.

I could have gone to Wadi Rum… but Wadi Rum would have definitely required more than a day. I could have also gone down to Aqaba to do some snorkeling over there… but frankly, I had done enough of snorkeling and desert hiking during my stay in Egypt. It didn’t entice me. I thought of Jerusalem… there was, however, a problem… it was a Friday- the next day a Saturday, a Sabbath. Things come to a standstill in Israel from Friday sundown.

Meeting with this American guy from Jerusalem was a catalyst in my programme for Jerusalem.

Jerusalem consists of two parts… West and East Jerusalem. The East is predominantly Arab, under Israeli occupation. The West is predominantly Jewish. On Sabbath, only the Western part comes to a stand still and not the Eastern part. David, the American guy suggested me that I may plan for Israel on Saturday and Sunday… and then start back for Amman on Monday morning to catch my flight back to Cairo. The idea sounded fine, but there was a hitch.

I could have crossed over to Israel through the Aqaba-Eliat crossing (which was closest and easiest) or from the King Hussein-Allenby Bridge crossing (which is further in the north and is often unpredictable because it goes through the West Bank). But if I cross through the Eliat-Aqaba crossing after Friday sundown, I would be stuck in Eliat because no public transport plies towards Jerusalem.

I decided that I will try to cross over from the King Hussein Bridge crossing… for that I needed to go back to Amman- stay there on Friday night- start early on Saturday and try my best to reach Jerusalem. It was unpredictable, and yet it was my only chance to reach and see Jerusalem.

Second day in Petra was uneventful… I and Zoltein roamed in the ruins of Petra. This time after seeing the Treasury, we took the Street of Facades… the street consists of a lot smaller tombs, but most of them are very beautifully done… they were mostly royal tombs.

Further ahead on the Street of Facades, one can see the Urn tomb and Palace tomb, both are large enough to attract your attention… but the most interesting of them all is the tomb of a Roman governor of the place…Sextius Florenitus. The story of Sextius is interesting.

Sextius was one of the most successful Roman Governors of the place… Nabatean civilization was followed by Roman dwelling at the same site… because of water, Romans made Petra as their administrative nerve centre for the entire region…. They did a lot of renovation in Petra, and ruled for more than 500 years. Sextius who was bewitched by the beauty of this place, desired to be buried in Petra after his death. And so did it happen. His is the only Roman tomb in the entire city of Petra.

Further ahead, we reached the Colonnade column and the Great Temple. It was time to bid farewell. I shook hands with Zoltein, and retraced my steps… I was not going to meet this guy ever again. Being a traveler is no less painful.

The public transport system in Jordan is inadequate… people have to depend a lot on private taxis (which are damn costly) or wait for a private bus to fill up and embark upon the journey. I reached the Bus Station of Wadi Moussa at 12 noon, but my Bus started only after 3 hours… It was however a Friday, there was a very beautiful mosque in the vicinity… and a lot of festivities due to Friday prayers. The three hours were not boring… I just watched the festivities.

On the return journey to Amman, we took the Desert Highway… the route, as I was told, is bland and hardly has anything to see.

Upon reaching Petra, I wanted to go back to Farah hotel, the same place where I stayed for a night in Amman. The Driver of the bus introduced me to two Bedouin guys who were accompanying me in the bus. The two guys were going towards the place where Hotel Farah was located. These guys not only dropped me near my hotel… but also didn’t allow me to pay for the Taxi. Earlier I had thought that the Bedouins of Wadi Moussa have been spoiled by the flood of tourism and easy money. But meeting these two guys… re-taught me something. Never generalize.

After checking into the Farah hotel… I went for a walk in the market… saw a beautiful Hussein mosque. I wanted to purchase some souvenirs… I checked out a few stores and found them to be exorbitantly priced… and then I met a young lad Ameen… he took me to his workshop and offered me third of the prices being quoted in the market… I spent more than a 100 USD in buying things. Ceramic plates, Replica of Petra, Sand arts, Knives, Candle Lamp… it was more than a bargain. Ameen told me that he is meeting an Indian after many years… he was in Saudi five years ago, and his best friend was an Indian. I hugged him and said good bye.

At the dinner table in Farah, I met an American follower of Anand Marg sect…. they are trying to establish themselves in Jordan and Egypt… as a meditation centre. This man had visited India many a times. Anand Marg was established in 1950s by one Swami Anandamurti… and has gone on to become a huge sect, however in recent times it has become very controversial.

I was all set to leave for Israel early next morning…. There was one last hitch… I had a lot of luggage with me and didn’t want to carry it all to Israel. I called my friend in the Indian Embassy, Noor… and decided to keep my luggage in his house, early morning and the leave for Jerusalem.

Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Nineteen – Meeting Zoltein.

Upon returning from Petra on the first day, I found that there was another backpack lying on the roof top… Somebody was using the bathroom. The person turned out to be a lad in early 20s… a Romanian called Zoltein.

Earlier in the day, after seeing the treasury I pushed ahead on the road… the road forked out- one in front of me going to the Street of Facades… and the other forking out and climbing up towards the High Place of Sacrifice. I took the road towards the High Place of Sacrifice…

More than 600 steps lead you to the High place of Sacrifice… the place used by the Nabatean priests to do the ceremonial sacrifices. The altar of sacrifice is located on top of a hill. The trek is tedious but worth the effort… because from the High Place of Sacrifice you can see a bird eye view of the entire city of Petra… the Altar consist of the actual place where sacrifices were performed and a water tank. I found the place a tad disappointing, but the views from atop the hill were simply fabulous. At a distance one may see two obelisks… they had some ceremonial value… and then on the other side you can see a rubble of stones that are the ruins of an ancient Crusader Castle.

Along the entire path that leads you to the High Place… you will encounter a lot of Bedouin women and girls trying to sell you ware… it is funny to hear teenage Bedouin girls speaking in American accented English. This cacophony is going to accompany you till the time you leave the ruins of Petra.

Coming down you see a lot of places… though once having seen the Treasury, you don’t feel elated, amazed or intimidated by any of them. There was a point of time- when I asked myself if I have already seen the best in Petra. So while coming down you will see the Garden tomb (which has a garden in front of the tomb, irrigated by a innovative water conservation system), then there was a Three Soldiers Tomb. These tombs are not going to entice or tease you much… what will actually amaze you is the riot of colours that mother nature has endowed to this place… the colour of the walls, the steps… they keep on changing. From yellow to red, from pink to black.

Once you come down… you reach a place where the dirt track again forks out- one going towards the Jebel Haroon… this was the route that was used by the ancient Nabateans to enter the city… however while trying to go down this route, I was stopped by some area officials- who told me that this route is very dangerous and can only be done with an authorized guide… and may take an entire day of hiking. I found out later on, that Jebel Haroon is mentioned in the Jewish and Islamic theology as a place where Prophet Moses' brother Aaron died. There exists a small Muslim shrine over there.

The other route takes you towards the site of Great Temple… it is perhaps one of the most mysterious places in Petra… even though ruined, this place is amazingly well preserved… it was not carved in the rocks like the rest of the Petra, but was constructed by the Nabateans. The name temple is a misnomer… today the archeologists believe that this place was perhaps some kind of administrative nerve centre of the entire city… It makes sense… this place lies almost in the centre of all the ruins. The place is worth a walk… though not even nearly as elegant as the Treasury or even Palmyra that I had seen earlier during my wanderings.

On the side of the Great Temple is the colonnade street that leads you back to the Street of Facades and the Treasury and on the other side is a path leading you to the most amazing place in Petra, the monastery. Nearby are the Temple of Dushares and a small museum… both are worth a skip. Enroute to the Monastery one finds another temple called Temple of Winged Lion, again nothing spectacular. Monastery is located at a height, it takes one to hike more than 900 steps to reach there.

It is one of the largest monuments in Petra and also one of the farthest monuments from the main gate. If Petra has to be considered a wondrous monument, it is because of the Monastery… called Deir, by the locals. It is very hard to imagine its size as itt is too big to be represented accurately in the photographs… the gate of the Deir is so high, that to climb it you need more than a help. And the interior of the Deir is so big that it makes the interior of the Treasury look like small cellar. No description would ever suffice for this wondrous monument… and therefore I leave it at this, teasing you to go and see the monument for yourself.

Further ahead of Deir are two wonderful vantage points for Wadi Arabia…

I returned back from Petra after this… I was dead tired… I passed through the Street of Facades, the Royal Tombs… and did not bother to even look towards them. I said to myself- I will come back tomorrow.

Zoltein was one of the warmest and most down to earth person I had ever met… somehow he reminded me of my Spanish friend Xavier. I became friendly with him almost instantaneously. He was studying in Syria, and after the completion of his studies, he wanted to visit Israel and Jordan… I invited him to visit Egypt too.

The entire evening we roamed on the streets of Wadi Moussa together… ate a sumptuous dinner, spoke about our experiences, our travels and travails. He agreed with me that Syrians are perhaps the nicest people he had ever met in his life.

In the night, there was a movie show going on in the Inn… the movie was "The Syrian Bride". It was one of the most beautiful and sensitive movies I have ever seen. It introduced me to the community of Druzes… a break away group from Islam who primarily live in the troubled regions of Golan Heights.

The story is about a girl who lives in the Golan Heights and is about to get married to a Syrian Druze…. And she knows that once she crosses over to Syria, there is no coming back. She will never be able to meet her near and dear ones… It is a story full of poignance… and meaningfulness. It tells you a universal story of ethnic communities divided by the artificial concept of Nation State… it tells you the story of the Kurds, the Druze, the Palestinians, the Sylheti Hindus, the Pashtuns, the Tibetans and even the Kashmiris.

After seeing the movie, I had a coffee with Zoltein and randomly picked up a book… "Memoirs of a Geisha." First 30 pages and I knew this is a very special book. I will read it very soon.

Rejoinder to the Pondering over our future. Part One

Prologue

My last post was meant to be a pondering… and not preaching. I did not really want to come up with a rejoinder to the post. I do not consider myself competent enough to comment on reformation of the system… but sometimes, innovations are created out of bizarre and outlandish ideas that were thought by a novice mind. So if I borrow from this talisman… I would rather choose to speak my mind in this post.

First, the stimulus…. Today, I was going through a news item that not one of the Indian Universities has made it to Top 200 Universities in the world. This is hardly surprising to me. I was born and brought up in a system that lays a huge huge premium on not committing mistakes and following the conformities… No innovation, no development of knowledge base ever takes place in such an environment.

Some examples… during my Engineering, I had a subject called Technical Writing… the teacher used to dictate us notes on how to write a Technical Report… and in the exam she wanted us to produce these dictation verbatim. I tried writing my own understanding of the subject and got 45 percent marks, others who mugged the entire thing got 90 percent…. In the last year of my engineering, I had a subject called Microeconomics… and even though I had a vastly superior knowledge of the subject and a wonderful performance in the examination, due to my interest in the subject… the teacher failed me. Why? Because one day I accidentally created a commotion in the class and that hurt his ego. These examples may be a bit lopsided… for I studied in a mofussil (a British Indian terminology for small town institutions, and therefore not the best-of-the league) Engineering College.

Some more examples from the hallowed portals of IITs (often considered the best educational institutions, India has ever produced). I did my MBA from IIT School of Management… My professor for Marketing Management religiously followed Kotler… his quizzes were verbatim production of phrases from the book… and the toppers did something very unique, they rote-learned Kotler!!!! Imagine rote-learning in Post Graduation. Another professor, who was teaching us Options and Futures rebuked me black and blue in front of the entire class for asking a simple question- why we need these instruments at the first place. Somebody may quip, that IIT does not represent the best practices of Management education… The two professors I am talking about were products of IIMs. So they should represent the best practices of Management education. In any case, few of my friends who have seen IIMs and are courageous enough to criticize their alma-mater, tell me that the impetus in IIM is on study, study and more study… Management education is often treated as an academic course than a professional course.

Something somewhere is wrong.

Cut to my recent experiences in American University in Cairo… there is absolutely nothing spectacular about the University… but its atmosphere, especially in the Arabic Language Institute. The Institute imparts Intensive Arabic Courses to Foreigners. The atmosphere is very liberal… we talk about everything under the sky… from the Egyptian domestic politics… to our personal lives… condition being, speak as much Arabic as you can. I have gone on several dinners with my teachers, talk to them as friends- joke with them… question their approach of teaching Arabic.

One teacher, Inaz Hafez used to give us worksheets for mechanical drills to practice the conjugation of verbs. I wondered that if it was a right approach… and aren’t we being too mechanical with the Arabic learning. Imagine what she does in the next class. She hands over original researches done in the West reflecting as to how Mechanical Drills are superior form of learning a new language in the initial phase…

And had it been an Indian professor, he would have butchered me alive for questioning his approach.

Coming back to the news item… follow the link given below to read the entire news item

No Indian varsity among world's top 200 universities

The news item itself is not horrifying… if we start today, within a span of 10 years we can make world class institutions… the horrifying aspect is the response of an average Indian to the news… some branding reservations as the culprit (not knowing that the best of Indian 'Universities' like IITs, AIIMS and JNU still don’t have reservations and yet they don’t figure anywhere in top 200), some questioning the report itself, some saying that the West wants to embarrass India (as if the West would ever weigh India as a bigger competitor than China!!!! 6 Chinese Universities figure in this list)… and some coming up with thefunny idea that perhaps the surveyors were Pakistanis. Some disbelieving the report because IITs and IIMs are not part of the elite club and claiming that in a neutral survey, they are bound to be in top 10. We are surely a self-congratulating society. As if 4000 years of self congratulation was not enough.

First the harsh truth- IIT and IIM are not Universities. They are at best, specialized Academic institutions… Calling them University is little too far-fetched. IIT is a glorified engineering college and IIM is a glorified Business Management school. Period!

Is it possible to study Anthropology, Media, and Literature in IITs or IIMs? Of course not! All you can study in any of the IITs or IIMs are techno-managerial courses and some other disciplines that are closely related to these flagship courses- like Industrial Sociology, Economics et al. Contrast an IIT with MIT- in MIT; one can study Media, Theatre, and Music too… Can anybody even think of doing it in an IIT? In my assessment IIM is even lower in pedestal than IIT, so better not talk about it. (Though IIM has a significant advantage over IIT, it is a melting pot for students from varying backgrounds- this ensures that the general academic atmosphere in the Institute is far more enriching- I remember, when I was doing my management – I changed the course of discussions in a class on Technology Management, by raising valid questions on evolution is Capitalism as a philosophy from Ayn Rand to John Kenneth Galbraith… my class was full of engineers and nobody could understand what I and our professor were talking about… but any such discussion in IIMs can be more anticipated because of students from varying background- Well incidentally the professor for my class of Technology Management was an alumni of Carneigie Mellon University). But compare IIM with say Chicago Business School, one of my friend studies over there... and he has the option of taking courses in International Relations, Anthropology, Media and what not.

So let's accept facts… Indian Higher education system is just not upto the mark. Because accepting it would facilitate the next step towards rectifying it.

And that is where; I have this bizarre and outlandish idea.

Part Two

Pondering over our future

Today, I was having coffee with a friend of mine… Heidi Morrison.

Heidi is a Fulbright Scholar… did her Undergrad from University of California, Berkeley in French… Grad from Harvard University in Middle Eastern Studies… and currently doing her Doctoral course. She is in Egypt for her field studies. There is something very unique in her personality. You talk with her for a while and feel happy that such simple and kind people exist. Add to that, she is amazingly intelligent.

I happened to meet Heidi a year ago at a common friend's place… his name was Khveh Niazi. Khveh is an ethnic Iranian, though his family migrated to US when the Islamic revolution took place in Iran… ever since Khveh has been living in US. I met Khveh, when we were going to Siwa Oasis… we both were alone and therefore packed up together and enjoyed a wonderful time in Siwa… among other things, Khveh loves photography, dramatics. His personality is magnetic. A great person, indeed. Khveh did his Undergrad and Grad from University of California, Berkeley in Physics… and his Doctoral course in Solid State Electronics. Currently he is studying Arabic and specializing in Middle Eastern Studies. I was intrigued by his choice of career… I gathered that perhaps he also worked with Intel for a while, before taking a plunge into a totally different field. Intel, the Shangri-La of any Indian engineer!!!!

Knowing Khveh set me thinking… of my days in Jamnagar, when I was working as an Engineer. I and my chummery-mate Saurabh Agarwal used to think differently from a large number of people around. We wanted to break free from the environment we were in. Though we had somewhat different philosophy; Saurabh gave his 100% to the current job-even though he was dissatisfied but I had practically given up- inviting ridicule and becoming a butt of laughter… for my more efficient colleagues. (However later, I realized that Saurabh was right… there is no excuse for non-performance. I adopted his philosophy in life thereafter… proved myself to be a good engineer before leaving the profession.)

One day, one of our senior- an IITian- asked us what we want to do in life… Saurabh told him, quite earnestly, that he wanted to study Economics. I told him that I am unsure of what I want to do in life but expressed a strong desire to study Law. Later, I found out that he was making fun of both of us as madmen… It is another story that he himself joined a MBA from a little known school to further his career and that due to circumstances, I joined MBA in one of the top-of-the-league B-schools in India and that Saurabh joined MBA in one of the top-of-the-league B-schools in the World. I developed a disliking for that man, thereafter.

I didn’t want to revisit the entire episode… but for the fact that I wanted the readers to relate with the reality as it exists. India is progressively becoming a society of MBAs… where studies are done for the sole purpose of earning money… where the joy of studying has diminished, where we are no longer producing good Historian, Sociologists, Scientists etc. We are producing only frustrated Academicians… doing their jobs as efficiently or inefficiently as a Bureaucrat would. They aren’t to be blamed… they are reflecting what our society has become.

A few years ago, India saw the advent of BPO industry…. Today it has become a huge money and job churner for India. It is often hailed as India's ticket to the big league… similarly China has been seeing a manufacturing boom… it has become world's workshop and a reverse-engineering hub. The two countries are smug about it. I haven’t seen China, so I would not comment on it. But in India… thousands and thousands of students are two-timing with their academics and joining the nice paying Back Office Centers… often getting a salary that their parents got only at the fag end of their careers. These students could have been good Engineers, Lawyers, Sociologists, Historians, Linguists, Academicians, Researchers- but they fell prey to the glamour and became a BPO employee… Off course, they will always be materially well off, but would the country be sharing their success.

No country becomes great by the contributions of employees, bureaucrats and managers. It needs social and economic entrepreneurs, political and business leaders, Researchers, Academicians and Out-of-the-Box thinkers to become great.

That makes me wonder about two questions…

1. Why in India, off-beat options of education are ridiculed by people. Why was I ridiculed for dreaming of Studying Law…? Why enrolling oneself for a course with a lower monetary return on effort- is often perceived as a mark of incompetence? And more importantly, could Khveh have dared to do the same in India? When I was attending the first ever class in Arabic… I told the class (consisting of 2 Italians, 2 Americans, 1 Canadian, 1 Spanish and a Danish teacher) that in India, the best candidates opt for Engineering or Medicine after schooling. Everybody burst laughing. A Student remarked- it explains why Indians come to study only Engineering and Business Management in US.

2. Why material success has become so important in India… we were not always like this… for instance, my father's generation laid a lot of importance on erudition… Is it the effect of globalization? And if it is, we are in for a huge shock… we will only realize this when we would have lost an entire generation… when we would realize that an entire generation losts its way- it made a lot of money… but did not produce enough enterprises, research papers… did not add to our understanding of our society, our history, our cultural milieu… did not add to our consciousness of the world we live in… did not produce enough think-tanks in the field of public policy, international relations et al. We will be humungous at the global scene and yet lacking in wherewithal to enact our hugeness.

Heidi articulated what I always knew. US education system is very very open… it allows you to decide the way one is going to proceed in life… it makes you in-charge of one's own life. In her Undergrad in Berkeley, she studied Chemistry, Natural Sciences… her colleagues studying for their Engineering degrees studied Culture, Political Sciences- in fact for first two years of engineering, they hardly had any engineering course…. And we are talking about a University that is often hailed as the world's best in Engineering.

However, there are few hopes… one of my friend Raja Karthikeya who did his MBA from one of the best institutes in India… is currently pursuing his masters in International Relations at Georgetown University. He plans to start a think-tank on International Relations in India. Her friend Aditi Vyas an MBA from Singapore plans to start a career counseling centre- where students will be made to realize that there is more to life than Engineering, Medicine, MBA and Civil Services. They and people like them hold a hope for the future of India.

Talking of materialism, I was wondering one day… what will be my priorities once I go back to India… one of them would be purchasing a car… a fairly costly one, lest I may be perceived as a failure among my acquaintances. Ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rejoinder

From the Archives- My 100th post

Following was my first post… the message in this post is as relevant today as it was one and a half year ago when I blogged this post or about six year ago, when I actually wrote this couplet.

Three days ago, I was watching a programme on the story of Bikis Bano… who lost her family in the Gujarat riots… and was brutally raped.

What struck me was not that the state was a mute spectator… or that it is perceived by some as collaborating with the rioters… Instead I felt numb at the fact that the crimes on Bilkis were perpetrated by her own villagers… the same villagers with whom her family had lived for more than 50 years…

This is the depravity of humanity and human values… my best friend a Muslim lives in a Hindu dominated area… most of his friend are Hindus… what if we choose to kill him…!!!! what if I choose to kill him....!!!! What worse decadence I can undergo.

I did not feel ashamed for all those villagers… I felt ashamed for myself- for being a human being.

Dandi March, a jallianwallah, a Bapu and independence
Fifty years hence…
The dust settles and the veneer erodes
And
Out emerges a nation with ethics stenched
Rights… often misused
Freedom… often mocked
Values … often murdered
Traditions …. often mutilated
The vibrance of Indian palette
With colours of peace, of harmony and of fraternity
Is replaced beyond recognition
By chaos, by anarchy and by hatred

Past… as they say, slips away
For present
And the face changes

We have come a long way
A long way ….indeed
From prabhatpheris to rathyatras
From donations to bribes
From Ahimsa to bloodshed
And who else can bear a testimony so striking...
Than mentally deranged old man
Who weeps in the solitude of a dark street corner
Whose daughter was raped
Wife and son murdered
Because they said…. He belongs to the other side of an imaginary line

It is the time, when we looked back
And confronted us
Is this the legacy we leave behind?

The day we did it
Not as a person, but as a humanity
The song of Iqbal will sing again
Sare jahan se achcha hindostan hamara

Quest for God

My religious identity has been a subject of inquest on the roads of Cairo. One of the worst things that I have faced in Cairo is the constant barrage of questions about my religious beliefs….

Yesterday while coming to my home, I boarded a taxi and was questioned about my religion… from my experience I had realized that it is easier to pass oneself as a Christian than as a Hindu or Buddhist or any other non-Abrahamic religion (In case of Judaism, you face worst degree of animosity, so don’t even try it).

So naturally I told the taxi driver that I was a Christian (a Masihi). The Taxi driver smirked and asked me if I know Isa-Ibn-Mariam (Jesus, the son of Mary)… I replied that off course I know him. And then came a shock, he asked me almost mockingly, "Hel Isa Allah, sahih!!!! (Is Jesus really a God)"… There was a certain degree of condescend in that question… I felt bad, even though I was not a Christian. The world is becoming a worse place to live.

It set me thinking about my religious identity… and if it is necessary to think about it… I am born Hindu… though I never believed in the dogmas… I once toyed the idea of becoming a Buddhist and in fact if one goes by strict sense of customs, took a Diksha (initiation into Buddhism) in the Khardang monastery in Keylong. Of course that did not make me a Buddhist… for I believe an adoption of religion is not about calling oneself a follower of religious regulations but following of religious values. I had a brief yet intense relationship with a Roman Catholic girl… and during my adolescence I was infatuated with a Muslim girl. I regularly go to Church, Dargahs, and Gurudwara (I feel Bangla Sahab Gurudwara in Central Delhi as one of the most serene religious spots)… so my religious identity is so obfuscated that all I can say is that I am a born Hindu.

Back in India, I never felt the need to express my religion… nobody asked me and I asked nobody about religion. In fact, everybody flashes his or her own identity in full glare of public… proving that India is one of the most vibrantly functioning secularism. One look at a person and you will realize that he is a Hindu, Muslim, Christian or a Sikh. My best friend is a Muslim, married to a Hindu girl. A very good Christian friend of mine was married to a Hindu boy.

But when I came to Egypt… things changed. I was asked about my religion almost on a daily basis. People don’t know what is Hinduism…. Some branded me as a Jew, because I was not a Muslim and not a Christian. Some branded me as a non-believer… Some, who knew about Hinduism, laughed at my religion and asked me who my Rab (my God) is … some went ahead and asked me why I worship a cow, a mountain or fire. All my theories of polymorphic monotheism and Hinduism being a spiritualistic religion that allows individuals to reach God without rejection of their beliefs- were either incommunicable or incomprehensible.

I realized one thing for sure… that my world view and the world view of people I meet are poles apart… and more I will try to explain, more will I fail. I stopped trying.

I started masquerading myself as a Christian… calling myself as a Christian had an immediate effect… people started looking my beliefs with some respect. The condescend was gone. I met a few people who said that it does not matter as to what I believe in, until I have a pure heart. And some who told me how Islam is a more refined and better than Christianity, inviting me to join Islam.

Till yesterday when even that myth was broken.

We sure are living in intolerant times… I don’t blame anybody, look at west as to how do they stereotype Muslims as terrorist… The bad aspect is that some 200 years we were all living in more peaceful climes… in India, Muslims and Hindus co-existed… in Levant, we had a thriving Christian community.

I hope this is a transient phase…

Thoughts on leaving Cairo- Part Two

A couple of steps from my flat, there sat an old blind man on the road… every evening.

He used to recite the verses of holy Quran… and a few passerbys used to give a 50 piaster or a pound… Just before the sunset, he arrived there all alone and a keeper of a shop adjacent to the place where he sat- used to help him in arranging a mat and then sitting down. And everyday, while on an evening walk with my Son- I used to pass by him.

A few days ago… while returning back from somewhere… when I was paying for the taxi… my son tried to snatch the money from me… I gave him the money to see what he will do with it. He took the money and gave it to the taxi driver… creating a smile on the face of the driver and mine. And thereafter, it became a regular habit.

I happened to pass by this old blind man… and one day, during the holy month of Ramadan- I took out a pound and dropped on his mat… The holy month of Ramadan is magical… more so in Egypt… it brings forth the two extreme emotions within a human being. One that of kindness and piety and other that of impatience and anger.

My son saw me doing this keenly… and then the very next day when I was passing by the same road… and took out a pound from my pocket… he started demanding it. I gave it to him and he walked a couple of tiny steps and stood beside the old man- stretching his arms. He had seen that when he stretched his arms with a currency note in his hands… the hands of the taxi drivers took the note from him. He was expecting the same to happen.

But it didn’t. The man was blind; he could not see my son stretching his hands in front of him.

My son was perplexed; he went further ahead almost shoving his hands in his face… till the old man realized that somebody is trying to give him money… he stretched his hand, felt tiny little hands and then said in a hoarse voice- "Shukran", blessing my son.

And then it became a regular habit… everyday we used to pass by that place and everyday he used to offer a pound to that old man.

One day I did not have a one pound note with me… I tried ignoring the old man and go ahead without giving him any money… but my son stopped and refused to go any further until he had offered money to him. I then had to take out a five pound note and gave it to him… the shopkeeper nearby saw this with amusement and said… "Howa Kareem (He is kind)" and I said "Allahu Akram (Allah is the kindest)".

I am sure that old man must be wondering as to where those tiny little hands have gone…. My son would also be sometimes wondering… where is that old man and why doesn’t he appear when he leaves his home for an evening walk.

Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Eighteen– The Treasury.

Match me such a marvel, save in Eastern clime
A rose-red city, half as old as time.
Dean Burgen

The roof top where I was staying had a few French guys… but by the time I came back from Petra by Night… they were gone, heading towards the Wadi Rum. So I was all alone on the roof- for the night.

Wadi Rum is also a prime attraction in Jordan… in fact after Petra, only Wadi Rum can claim to be a genuine attraction in Jordan. Initially I toyed with the idea of doing some desert camping in Wadi Rum… but then I decided against it… I argued that I have already done enough of desert trekking both in Sinai and the Sahara… how much different this would be. But apparently Wadi Rum is different, this is what some backpackers staying in the Inn told me… they had visited Sinai too and were all praise for Wadi Rum.

I woke up early next day… I wanted to reach Petra as early as possible and do as much hiking as possible on the very first day… Atef runs a free transport from the Inn to the Petra entrance… some 7-8 people squeeze themselves in the small station wagon that he used for the purpose… I was sitting beside a Portuguese girl… her name I think was Isabel or something… she had long hairs and when the wagon moved… her hair flew and touched my face… I didn’t mind. Ha!

Entry to Petra is expensive… for a single day, they charge you 22 Jordanian Dinar and for two days they charge you 26… I bought the two day ticket… I was carrying four liters of bottle with me… some of the inn mates had told me that the only thing which I will need to hike around Petra is water and a small map. I had both.

I went along the same path… through which I had walked a day before, while doing the Petra by night. The hillocks surrounding the Rose city of Petra are beautiful… in the morning they glittered like gold… complementing the most beautiful city.

As soon you walk a couple of steps, you start seeing rock cut tombs all around… small and big… ornate and simple. The Triclinium or the Obelix tomb is sure to catch one's attention. It is an elaborately carved chamber… with four pyramids shaped canopy atop. Though small is size, Triclinium must be analyzed for some time… it gives you an idea of things to come.

Nabatean were master engineers… especially in the field of metallurgy and hydraulics. To enter Petra city, one needs to go through a 1.5 kilometer long narrow gorge called Siq… the Siq is surrounded by hills and the entire area is at a very low level… when compared to the surrounding… thus Nabateans used to face the problem of flash floods very often. To counter this they created something very advanced and unique for its times. And this was the key to the creation of a city that was able to hold about 30000 people in it.

Just before the Siq… you see a huge tunnel like channel which was used to divert the water flooding Petra. And at the gate of Siq a huge dam was created with mud and stones… so as not to allow any water to enter the Siq. The spill over from the dam was allowed into the Siq, through some narrow channel- lined along the walls of the Siq and originally fitted with clay pipes- and stored in open tanks at regular intervals inside the Siq for day to day usage. This way the spill over water from the dam was carried inside the city for drinking and other purposes. After seeing these arrangements, one cannot stop being amazed by the greatness of this civilization.

The Siq is only 5 meters broad… originally it was not even this much… but the Nabateans broadened the entire Siq, uniformly… using advanced tools made of copper and iron. Today one of the most magical ways of treading through the Siq is through horse carriage. The temperature inside the Siq is 4-5 degree centigrade less than the surrounding.

All along the Siq, one can see sculpted walls… that used to depict deities of the Nabateans. With time however they were ravaged. Nabateans initially created a fine graveled road all along the Siq… to avoid any swamping due to flooding… with time came the Romans and replaced it with their own hall mark of large stone pathway… at some stretches one can still see the remnants of the Nabatean and Roman roads.

The pathway meanders, twists and turns… and carries you along with it… it makes you stop at some places… and teases you at others, making you wonder as to when it will end. And when you think, let the magic continue… it cracks open a bit to give you a glimpse of one of the most dramatic views ever created by humans… of the Khazana or Treasury.

You walk along the entire stretch of Siq in relative darkness, for the high walls of the hills surrounding it never let the sunlight in. And then the first glimpse that you see of Khazana bathed in the sunlight… glittering and enticing… you just gasp your breath. It is that beautiful.

For years and years, I had seen the images of Petra… more often than not of the Khazana… and had waited for this day, very eagerly. Khazana was majestic, beautiful… and numbed me… the same way the Virupaksha Temple of Hampi did, years ago.

The grandness of the Treasury (or the Khazana) is often not depicted properly in the photographs… perhaps because it is huge… and perhaps because the nature has endowed it with a colour that can only be captured by the naked eyes and not through lens. One sight of the Treasury and you know, you are at a very very special place. One sight and you know why people call it as a Rose City… it is but, of course as refreshing as a small rose bud… One sight and you know that you are blessed.

An year ago, I met an American guy who had been to Machhu Picchu… he was talking about the place and suddenly changed the topic and started talking about Petra… and said seeing Petra and Macchu Picchu had the same feeling… you don’t get to see the grandeur of the two places till the very end… it’s a grand climax of efforts…. In case of Pyramids, you start seeing the pyramids from 2 kilometers before you reach the place, which spoils the climax.

I couldn’t have agreed more with him.

Wanderings in the Sinai: Part One- Arriving at Rock Sea

One of the most memorable journeys that I have done in Egypt was the five day- four night camel safari in Sinai. My wife always wondered as to why didn't I ever write about it… I tried but failed…

I realized that it is one of the toughest things to write a travelogue where human interactions are minimal… humans provide a narrative… which nature may not be able to. It is not to say, however, that nature is devoid of any narrative… it takes a very keen eye and a very expressive mind to narrate the narrative of nature… which I do not have, though am trying to acquire.

All my journeys have had a stimulus… like my Konkan trek was done on the stimulus of reaching Goa… I did not reach Goa, but saw some most wonderful places on the way. My Lahaul-Spiti journey was done on the stimulus of reaching Leh by road… I did not reach Leh, but saw the most scenic places in India. The Western Desert journey was on the stimulus of seeing the White Desert… I saw it, yet I reserve special place for a place called Al Qasr. Sinai was high on my agenda and yet I needed a stimulus to go there.

One day while reading Al Ahram Weekly, I found out about Basata eco-lodge, located between Taba and Nuweiba on the Red Sea coast… Basata eco-lodge has been constructed by an Egyptian ecologist Sharif Al Ghamrawy… this place is a self sustaining unit… with its own de-salination plant, organic farm, solar water heaters and voltaic cells, the entire complex is devoid of any source of electricity. After reading about the eco-lodge, I decided to go there and relax for three-four days… I took leave from the office and university and was all set to go- when a day before leaving for the place, I realized that I haven’t done any booking for myself in the eco-lodge… my friends who had been there told me that Basata is often over-booked and it might be very difficult to get a place at such a short notice. Frantically, I gave a call to Basata…to find it overbooked, as expected.

I was at my wit's end… now what to do… My leaves were approved… I had a ticket to Nuweiba in my hand and my backpack was brimming with a hope of seeing a new place. I told myself… lets see another place, may be Taba or Nuweiba or even Dahab. The problem was that when I googled Taba and Nuweiba, I didn’t like the idea of the two places… I was about to zero at Dahab-when I stumbled upon some information on a place called Coloured Canyons…

Coloured Canyons was described as a natural narrow gorge, whose walls comprise of coloured stone layers… and therefore standing amidst the place, one can see a riot of colours all around. It sounded interesting. To reach the place, I realized that I had to take a 4-wheel drive from either Nuweiba or Dahab, and that it would be a half day jeep safari. The minimum amount quoted for the jeep safari was 400 Egyptian Pound… (About 3000 rupees)… If I was a part of a group then off course this amount would have got divided and I had to pay only say 1/5th of the abovementioned amount… but as I was alone, I was expected to hire an entire vehicle by myself and travel alone… didn’t sound nice.

I called up a friend of mine, an American called Richard. He suggest me something very sensible… if I had to see the Canyons, I had to see the Canyons. And if I had to spend 400 Egyptian Pound seeing it, then I might as well pay a 100 more to do a four-five day camel trek to the place… He said that Jeep Safaris are too artificial… and that the Coloured Canyons may not seem all that magical if seen in isolation… the process of reaching there often holds the key of enjoying the place.

He was right; even I maintain that. Sightseeing is not traveling… traveling is a holistic package of planning, reading about a place and trying to reach there… you wouldn’t enjoy a Taj, if you don’t wander in the streets of Agra, if you give a slip to Sikandra or Agra Fort… Sightseeing is soulless without the process of traveling.

Richard told me about a place called Mangana Beach resort, further ahead of Basata towards Nuweiba… which is the best place to hire a camel…he told me that a Bedouin village nearby might come in handy to get a good bargain.

I took a bus from Turgoman gate and was accompanied by a very good friend Xavier, a Spanish journalist- learning Arabic with me… he was going towards Gaza Strip. And as those days, Rafah Crossing was closed… he planned to go to Taba, enter Israel and then somehow find his way to the Gaza Strip. We took a night bus. The bus went to Taba, firstly and we bid adieu to each other at 4 am at Taba… the bus then turned towards Nuweiba… by 5 am, I was standing before the Mangana Beach Resort…

When I arrived Mangana, I realized that the resort was closed due to an off season… amidst the beach huts…I felt as if I was in a ghost town… Nearby, there was another beach resort… I walked towards it… and saw some Human activity…

The name of the Beach Resort was Rock Sea.

The forts of Bundelkhand: Part One

Refer to an earlier post of mine….

My wish list for India

It says one of the wish as
"Discovering the Bundela forts- from Gwalior till about Banda in Uttar Pradesh, the Bundela rajputs built an array of forts; from the magical Kalinjar and Ajaigarh to the historically endowed Jhansi and Mahoba… there are very few references of these forts in totality… I would like to visit them all, discovering them."

I have started my research on these long forgotten forts… some of these forts are known… and some have really got lost in the dunes of time.

During my research I stumbled upon a wonderful book on Bundelkhand forts… titled – "The forts of Bundelkhand" by a couple Rita and Vijay Sharma… (Publishers: Rupa and Co.)

Will write about the book very soon

Here is the list of the Bundela forts
• Jhansi
• Orchha
• Samthar
• Charkari
• Tableghat
• Barwasagar
• Deogarh
• Dhamoni
• Chanderi
• Narwar
• Kundar
• Mahoba
• Ajaigarh
• Kalinjar
• Datia

During my childhood, I have visited quite a few of them with my father… Jhansi, Orchha, Datia are the ones that I can remember offhand.

Will write more about them… the history and other things

Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Seventeen – Night in Petra.

A few kilometers before the magical lost city of Petra is a Bedouin village of Wadi Moussa. It used to be small… but now the deluge of Tourists has changed its complexion… it has become one big market place… where everybody is into profiteering. It’s a pity that all the great monuments suffer from this malice…. Its even worse that money, a human invention, has come to command such an authority over humans… we fear for the day when human invented machines will take over… when a SKYNET from Terminator will happen or when a Matrix will happen… and are innocently oblivious that one of our inventions has already taken over.

We all came by the same buses and yet alighted at different stops… as per our requirements of the worldly comforts… the Germans went all the way to a 5-star hotel, the Canadian settled for a 3-star… and I headed straight for a backpackers joint…. It was a conscious decision. I had read so much about sleeping atop a roof in Jordan; I just wanted to enjoy this experience…. In retrospect, I did a right thing… hadn’t I done that, I wouldn’t have met a wonderful Romanian guy Zoltein, who reminded me of my long lost Spanish friend Xavier…. I think this is the saddest part of being a traveler, you meet people who you would love to be friends with, forever… and then you lose them in the dunes of time.

Friends are like love, for which Lord Tennyson said –'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all...

I chose a place called Valentine Inn… located off the main road… near, what I think was called Tehreer Square. I rented a bed at the rooftop… for the sake of experience… in a way it was interesting… Last night, I was in a 3-star hotel… paying right through my nose and today I was barely living. Its fun to be an independent traveler, making eccentric decisions and being answerable to no one. The place was nice… you could see the majestic hills of Petra at a distance, and the sun setting beyond them. The sunset had to be seen to be believed.

However the atmosphere in the Inn was far from laid back, it was managed under the watchful eyes of an Italian lady Valentine, who met the Bedouin guy Atef in Turkey and then as they say the rest was history. Atef was a relaxed, happy-go-lucky kind of a person… but Valentine kept keen eyes on the account books and IOUs, bordering being nagging. So I would be lying if I said that I had a much laid back stay at the place… given a choice, I will try another place next time. Anyway, it was an experience.

I was keen to see Petra by night… Atef told me that I am lucky because it's not everyday that Petra night tour is organized during the off-season times like these. He told me that during the season, tickets of Petra by night are booked weeks in advance, if not months… and it is very hard to do it.

A ticket of 16 Jordanian Dinar (about 950 Rupees), I wondered it if was worth spending that much…. Atef told me something very sensible… if I had come all this way to see Petra, I might as well spend a few dollars more… lest I may regret later in life… he said that for some Petra by night is magical, and for some it is boringly clichéd… but I can decide only after having seen it.

After having a sumptuous dinner at the Inn, I proceeded for Petra by night tour… where I again met the Canadian guy, who was with me on the bus.

Petra by night… is a unique experiment… though lacks finesse and yet is a must to be experienced. The magic of this tour is lost in the cacophony of numbers… of being herded together with 200 odd people… (Some of them Italians who would like to chat at the top of the voice, amidst the forlorn wonder and the night- he, he)

The tour takes you along the path to the Siq (a dramatic gorge that leads you to Khazana, the most celebrated monument in entire Petra) and then you walk through the Siq to reach Khazana where people gather to be mesmerized by haunting Bedouin music. This entire path is lit with candles…

It is often advisable to walk at the rear, behind the cacophony… to relish the magic of Petra by night. Walking quietly among the monuments that have created wonderment beyond words for humans… an entire civilization of very advanced knowledge existed here and created a city, so ahead of times… that we often rub our eyes in disbelief. The civilization of Nabateans, who were a traders by profession and had developed water harvesting, chemical and metallurgical technologies so much ahead of times, that it took us about 1000 years to reach the same level of technical excellence once their civilization and knowledge was lost.

From a distance I could see the town of Wadi Moussa glittering like a plateau of lights… and ahead a road paved with candles. Quietly I proceeded. After a few steps, I started seeing small monuments carved out of rocks… heralding the arrival of the Rose City of Petra… the light from the candles were not bright enough to see and relish these small monuments… and it took me another visit next morning to relish their beauty… a few steps more I was at Siq…

Siq is magical… a narrow gorge that takes you to the Khazana… it was actually the backside of the city of Petra… used for religious and ceremonial purposes… the path way meanders and makes you meander with it… you start wondering after a while, would it ever end… you look up you see a narrow strip of silver-black sky with a few stars twinkling… ahead a pathway of candles… that ends with a sharp turn of the pathway… sideways you see the chiseled walls depicting the engineering marvels of an ancient civilization… (I have seen many other such monuments like Ajanta and Ellora… but they were much later in the timeline… one can only relish Petra if he marvels its timelessness)

And then you see the first sight of the most impressive Khazana… I whispered to myself… you are about to see the place for which you have been wandering for the last few days… I closed my eyes and walked a few steps more and then opened them again… I was standing in front of a monument that I have seen many a times in the last few years in pictures and had heard so much about.

We were made to sit on the floor, in front of the Khazana… before us was a carpet of candles… its light was providing a view enough of the Khazana… the atmosphere was mesmerizing, with a backdrop of haunting Bedouin music… on Rabab and Flute.

It was hard deciding whether to close one's eyes and relish the music or to open the eyes and relish the sight… if you have this predicament… you know you are blessed. I was blessed to have seen an epitome of human endeavour.

That night after the tour I walked 3 kilometers to my hotel… dazed and refreshed.

Doing a Holden Caulfield in Kolkata- Part One: Howrah Railway Station

This Semester, I am undergoing a non-credit course in Spoken Modern Standard Arabic…. In which I read aloud excerpts from the original works of Naguib Mahfouz- the Egyptian Nobel Laureate in the field of Literature. My teacher told me something that I always felt and yet could never articulate. He said a good story teller weaves a story in such a way that the main protagonist of his story is not the one in the book but one who is reading it…. He is able to involve a reader to such an extent that the reader starts feeling being a part of the story…. Naguib description of Cairo catapults you from your ordinary existence to the streets of Old Cairo… you can feel the commotion, smell the incense, smoke a Sheesha, hear the gossiping of a road side Ahwa, savour the magic of an Azaan and feel frustrated by persistent demand of Baksheesh.

One such author is J D Salinger… though I am yet to read his any other book but the Catcher in the Rye. I have always identified with the character of Holden Caulfield…. His angst, his frustrations, his platitudes, his travesties- everything. I always felt empowered by his adventurism (or escapism)… of letting the world around him, go. Of considering everybody, but him, phony… of disenfranchising himself of his identity and existence, to such an extent that the hostilities of the world around him stopped mattering.

And once I tried it.

Those were the days when I was in the most endearing city of Kolkata (Calcutta, as we used to know it)… doing a course in Film Appreciation at the Satyajit Ray Film and Television Institute. The campus of the Institute was perhaps one of the most delightful academic campuses in India… with a lake amidst the verdant green campus… I have seen the campus of IIM Lucknow… and though I liked it a lot, yet I feel the Campus of SRFTI was a couple of notches above it.

I did not have a particularly good relationship with my batchmates… very neutral relations with some and one bordering animosity with others. The reasons are beyond the purview of this blog. And as Film Appreciation involved seeing a movie in a group and then discussing it among ourselves… so naturally, I was not comfortable doing that day in and day out. I was quite alienated by the course… and yet I continued.

I was particularly friendly with one guy in my batch and therefore used to hang out with him for most of the time. And one day, he took a leave from the course for a week and left for his hometown. It was then that- I decided that I too will take a leave and go for some sight seeing in and around Kolkata….

One fine day, I dropped in an application with the Course Coordinator… and packed a small bag and left my hostel… what happened thereafter was a four days of wanderings in and around the magical city of Kolkata.

Kolkata has its own charm… lesser known when compared to Delhi or Mumbai…. It is perhaps, in many ways, more magical than either of them. It is friendly, it is cheap, it is worth exploring… and it is a part of our cultural consciousness.

Though I had read so much about Kolkata… but I did not have any specific plans during my wandering… it can be understood from the fact that the places that I saw during my wandering, did not happen in any logical order. Starting with Dakshineshwar and Belur…. Going to Kumhartuli ….coming back to Howrah and trying to reach Mayapur through an unusual route… crossing the Ganges to reach Nabadweep Dham, Seeing Kalna Ambika… and then treading along the path that was colonized by the early Europeans… the Dutch, the French and even the Greeks… reaching back to Howrah and catching a train to reach Diamond Harbour and then going to Ganga Sagar and Bakhalli and then coming back to Howrah and catching a train for Bishnupur and finally coming back to Kolkata. To a person who knows Kolkata, my trajectory would seem to be mad…

As I said, I never planned anything. Everything happened at the spur of moment…

Very near to the campus of SRFTI was the Baghajatin Railway Station and it was very much possible to take a local train to Howrah… once at Howrah, the world is within your reach…

Howrah is perhaps the most interesting railway station in entire India… an entire humanity arrives at Howrah and then goes back, everyday …. Around 1 million people use this railway station everyday…. It was designed by an eminent British architect Ralph Ricardo in 1905, and last year it celebrated its 100th year of construction. Started with only 6 platforms, today Howrah has 24 platforms… uniqueness being- one can take an entire car inside the station. It overlooks the majestic Howrah Bridge, one of the world's finest and largest cantilever bridges. Incidentally, even though Howrah Railway station has come to be recognized with the city of Kolkata, yet it is not a part of Kolkata- it is a part of Kolkata's twin city Howrah… Kolkata has its own railway head called Sealdah…. Though hardly anybody associates it with Kolkata.

You can see an entire humanity in and around Howrah Railway station… trams, buses, taxis, cycle-rickshaws… all around. The area around the station never sleeps… Just two days ago, I had come here to drop my friend off- who was going to his hometown on leave… he was to board an early morning train… and we decided that instead of trying to reach there early morning, we will come here late at night and then hang around the place for the entire night…

The banks of river Hooghly, underneath Howrah Bridge and the area around, have huge slums… on the Kolkata side one can come across dwellings of petty traders who deal with flowers… there activity for the day starts around three in the morning… it is worth seeing the string of activities in early morning… the commotion is mesmerizing…

So two days after leaving my friend from the same railhead- I was heading towards it, once again.

Romancing with Indian Railways- Part Two.

Day before yesterday, I was watching Gulzar's Classic "Ijaazat", a beautiful movie. It is story of Mahendra who loves an eccentric yet intense Maya… but circumstances force him to marry his childhood friend Sudha, a very mature and balanced human being. Mahendra is torn apart between them- he loves them both; he feels responsible towards both; And yet he has no idea as how to maturely handle both these relationships. His immaturity takes a toll of his marriage and Sudha leaves Mahendra, forever. Forever!!!! till they meet once again on a rainy night at a Railway station. When they realized that it was not they who failed the relationship, but the circumstances… but found out that it was too late to revive their relationship, once again.

Ijaazat will always remain one of the most sensitive movies I have ever seen. It would be blasphemous for some, to even compare it with Casablanca (the greatest movie ever made, by Hollywood)… but I felt the same intensity of emotions, same sense of loss- after watching it. The more important thing is that these two forlorn and estranged lovers met at a Railway station…

I am yet to forget the opening scene of "Dil Se" – a Shahrukh Khan starrer, in which he meets Manisha Koirala in a stormy night at a deserted North Eastern India's Railway station. Or the closing scene of Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge… in which Kajol rushes towards Shahrukh Khan and joins him in a moving train. (Incidentally, when I used to work at a place called Patalganga- I came across a photo studio, where some impromptu photos of Shahrukh Khan and Kajol were displayed… I asked the photographer about them and was told that DDLJ's closing scene was shot at a place called Apta Railway station… some 6-7 kilometers from my workplace. The next day itself I went to see that place… and relished being there).

Bollywood therefore draws a very intense simile from the Indian Railways. You would never see it drawing similar such similies from a wonderfully endowed European train… (Barring an Aishwarya Rai starrer "Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam", in which Aishwarya and her husband come close for the first time, while on an European train… and despite the fact that Aishwarya loved somebody else, she is drawn towards her husband). European trains draw an emotion of wonderment and desire… Indian trains draw an emotion of longing and a wish…. There is a difference between a desire and a wish.

One of the most intense emotions that I have ever felt was when I used to come from Kanpur to Allahabad… those were the days when I was deep in my first love… and she lived in Allahabad. I used to take Kalka Mail that left Kanpur at 2 in the afternoon and rush to Allahabad… and used to board the General compartment of the train sitting often at the foot board of the fast moving train… (Incidentally my favourite Hindi movie till date- Shahrukh Khan Starrer "Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa" has similar such scene in reverse, in which the heroine is coming back to her home town and the hero is rushing towards the railway station to receive her and singing along)

That night in Karjat… reopened the chapter of my experiences with Indian Railways… I started feeling the magic again… of even those moments bygone- when I was too alienated from it all and thus could never appreciate the magic.

For instance, going to Dehradun… in 1989, when the train passed through the deep forests of Rajaji National Park, there were many moments when I wished that the train stopped here and I just hop down and walk through the wilds…

Or when while coming to Allahabad from Kanpur by a night train, our train stopped in a non-descript railway station of Rasoolabad for an entire night… it was a chilly December night and ahead on the track an accident had occured … having nowhere to go, everybody huddled inside the train for the entire night… but a few daring among us went to the station started a bonfire and spent a night under open sky. I too did the same.

Or when in the summers of 1998, having graduated out of the Engineering college- I decided to pay a visit to all my good friends… before pushing off to the big bad world of earning a livelihood. I went to Dehradun, Muzaffarnagar, Bareilly, Ghaziabad and Lucknow during this journey. It was during an intense North Indian summers, while coming from Bareilly to Lucknow… I felt very very thirsty…. My water bottle had finished and even though I tried my best to procure a new water bottle- there was none available… finally, I decided and alighted at Hardoi Railway Station…. Searched for water and boarded the next train… to Lucknow, after 8 hours… for all this while I stayed and slept on the Railway platform.

Or when I traveled from Bombay to Allahabad in a general compartment sleeping on the floor… or when I took a passenger train from Allahabad to Lucknow, and covered 200 kilometers in 15 hours… and became very friendly with a school teacher, we exchanged our addresses to keep in touch and then forgot all about each other.

Or when I used to commute between Jamnagar and Bombay every other weekend to meet my friends in Bombay… stay back for a day in Bombay and then use to rush back… and then one day, I just said "to hell with it"…. Alighted at Surat, stayed there for a day… then went to Vadodara stayed there for another day, went to Ahemdabad… stayed there for another day, Rajkot another day and then reached Jamnagar and feigned an illness to save my skin (Hahahahaha)

Having visited Karjat, I could appreciate all these moments in retrospect…. They all were magical moments… they all touched my life in a special way… Indian Railways, I realized is not a passive mode of transport… but somehow, our entire lives have evolved around it. We always consider it as a part of our life…

I was now ready to experience the uniqueness of it all