Kabul… Dangerous yet Rocking.

Have you ever lived under the shadow of death… imagining if the person approaching … pulls the trigger, or worse presses a button… and then everything goes blank, forever. Or if you hear a huge sound… and the next thing you remember is floating in air at an unimaginable speed along with a detonation wave… hoping that even in that turmoil you remember the basic drill of leaving your body totally loose… and slightly opening your mouth… and hoping that you land up softly.

No it’s not traumatic… it’s dramatic... for… with every step you take, you look for a place to duck and an alley to run… you look for any suspicious action on part of the person approaching… you look for a car at a furious pace with only one occupant, and the direction it is headed for… you look for tiny hints, which can differentiate between life and death..

Yesterday, there was an attack on a UN Guest House… it killed 6 UN staffers. A few days ago… there was another attack on the Indian Embassy… every incident is as old as the next incident… it galvanizes public memory… distaste for a few days … or sometimes for few hours… till it is dissipated in wake of another incident. UN Guest House attack, for instance… was quickly forgotten in the cacophony of a bigger attack in Peshawar…

Sanity and empathy is a commodity these days and in this part of the world… pulled and pushed by… demands and supplies… scarcity and abundances… favorites and disfavored.

I visited Kabul this time; when it was reeling under a severe security threat… so severe that I was advised to hole up in my hotel room for all the three days of my visit. I thought what is worse… a push of a button or a bolt in the door… perhaps both are equally worse… depending on what you seek from life… or from death.

The flight was ordinary… but I had to wait for 1 hour at UN terminal for my secured vehicle to arrive… I told my friend… I can stay away from heaven… but don’t like being kept waiting for 1 hour at heaven’s doors.

Heaven… is it… Kabul has been described as heavenly by Babur in his memoirs… it had been a melting pot for Muslim travelers and conquestors… from Persia… from Samarkand… from Turkey… in the yesteryears… they all vouched for the clean waters… fresh airs… cool climes… and relaxed disposition of this momentous city… today it’s a pale shadow… getting paler day by day… and yet there is something… some wee bit… left somewhere… to make you call it is heaven.

For a weary traveler from Kandahar… it is not only heaven but also heavenly… it makes you feel a pulse within yourself… a pulse that was all but lost in the medieval values… outdated ideologies.

On the first night, I yet again went to Anaar the Indian restaurant… with its relaxed atmosphere and good food… it would always remain my favourite… you just sit on its comfortable couches… and while your time away… as if there is eternity to savor… the waiters don’t bother you… and they bring baskets after baskets of Diltod Papad (the name I gave to the magical, though simple, crispy papads of the place)

While in hotel (yet again Park)… at midnight… my world started shaking… it took me a while to realize that I was facing a massive earthquake…for the first time I saw the fury of an earthquake… 6.1… epicentered in Pak-Afghan border middling Jalalabad and Peshawar… though luckily, the tectonic plates moved 150 kilometers beneath the earth… thus causing no major damage… God, it seems, comes with an extreme sense for irony… he saves us from an earthquake in an area, where his subjects bay for each others blood, otherwise.

The next day… had a sumptuous brunch of Chhole Bhature at a friends’ place… missing a “sponsored” Italian Lunch by a few whiskers… I moved around… searching for a perhaps non-existent Kabul Coffee House… purchased a number of DVDs to accompany my soliloquy in Kandahar… I, for one, would mind dying without seeing the latest blockbusters from Bollywood. Hahaha!

In the evening, I went to a Lebanese Restaurant Taverna… the place is absolutely fantastic… the atmosphere… it appears that you are in some relaxed Greek Mezze Tavern… with soulful of music… with relaxed pace of dinner… with an evening ahead to relax, relish and enjoy…. The place served Lebanese and Egyptian delicacies… and my favourite Tahina sauce… Give me a loaf of bread and it, toss in a few pickled olives … it’s a life well spent.

The next day I spent in going around the town… having a wonderful lunch at a friends place… going to a treasure trove called Bagram Stores… which sells astounding collection of adventure gears… jackets, sleeping bags, rug sacks, camping gears, knifes, compasses etc. I promised I will come back with loads of greenbacks…

The evening, thereafter, was quiet and lonely… I chose it that way… this time missing an invite to gate-crash into an all-girls Pajama party by more than a few whiskers… I had a wonderful dinner at Park… while having it… I was approached by an elderly gentleman… if he could join me on my table… it was serendipity… the man called John Butt… was a Cambridge scholar… a Muslim… a preacher of tolerant version of Islam… he runs a community radio in Peshawar… though ethnic English… he had lived his entire life, well almost, in South Asia… in Deoband… in Peshawar… in Jalalabad… we talked about Deoband, Sufism, Maulana Wahideen, about Peshawar and its turmoil… about Taliban and its ideologies… it was an hour or two… of revelations and enlightenment. He looks forward to establish an Islamic University in Jalalabad… I am Serendipity’s favorite child, perhaps…

The flight next day was more or less uneventful… perhaps portending the life to come in Kandahar… I flew over the Hindu Kush… barren… some days later they would be capped by snow... the weather would change… would the destinies???

I often wonder…

Happy Birthday to You!!!

Imtiaz Ali has directed some very endearing love-stories. “Socha Na Tha”, “Jab We Met” and “Love Aaj Kal”… I often wondered what the common theme in all these movies was.

Yesterday, while seeing Jab We Met for the nth time… it occurred to me that the common theme of Imtiaz movies was that those who are destined to fall in love… fall in love despite all odds… be it Abhay Deol and Ayesha Takia of Socha Na Tha (where Abhay first rejects Ayesha and then engages with another girl)…. Or Shahid Kapoor and Kareena Kapoor of Jab We Met (where Shahid actually helps Kareena in patching up with her estranged lover)…. Or Saif Ali Khan and Deepika Padukone of Love Aaj Kal (where Deepika actually gets married with another guy)…

In all the three movies, the leading pairs were cruising for a life sans each other… and yet ended up meeting together… no melodrama… no disjoints… it was a plain narrative that brought them together, as if the entire universe had been conspiring to bring them together.

After seeing the movie… I closed my eyes and slept… only to be engulfed by sweet dreams of the life gone by… it was a sweetest and most relaxing sleeps of my life… where I dreamt of my smiling wife… two little kids… and a wilderness to walk.

I remembered so many small instances… of how we were cruising for lives sans each other… of how she was all, but gone… from my life… forever… and how things changed thereafter…. As if the Universe conspired.

I was married in 2004… to this woman of extra-ordinary strength, resolve and honesty… but never did in my 9 years of knowing her… I considered her anything but a friend... who was always there for me, a phone call away… whose letters brought me immense peace… and while writing a letter to whom… I enacted my refuge, emancipation and growing up.

I remember… how in my hours of extreme solitude… I called her from Jamnagar… her voice whispered… everything is fine with the world around… the embryonic darkness would soon perish and ray of lights would wake me from the slumber of dejection….

I remember... how I used to write pages after pages… endlessly… of letter to her… voicing my hopes and disgusts, cravings and dreams, pains and mirth… I knew that on the other end… there is a patient ear to hear me… and give me a shoulder to lean…

I remember… the vacuum I felt inside me… so huge that I could have imploded… when I heard that she is going to get married off… I remember… the tremble and shivers… when I confessed to myself… that yes I love her… and that I may always remain incomplete without her in my life…

I remember those soothing words… when I broke down at Al-Kharga Oasis… when I said I don’t want to complete the Desert Circuit… and she told me that she is proud of me and would like to see me complete the exhausting desert circuit…

I remember those words of courage… when I was about to go to Cyprus to participate in one of most defining moments of my life… when I saved more than 3000 lives… and she hugged me to say good-bye… when she was suffering from an excruciating pains of Gall Bladder Stone and had an infant to take care of…

I remember those words of encouragement… when I was about to embark a momentous journey in the Levant… which changed my world view… to Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Israel and Palestine… and how she said that I know you would grow…

I also remember the day when I was about to leave for Spiti… and she came to meet me… with a first aid and medicine box… I knew thereon that I am in safe hands… and that I have found my guardian angel…

I remember returning from a movie on 6th February 2009… at around 2 am and I packing my bag finally… to leave for the most dangerous place in the world… and she clasping my hand and telling me… trust me… nothing bad would happen…

I don’t know why people change… why I changed after marriage… why I stopped listening… why I became blunt… when life is so simple… I feel a shiver running down my spine… whenever I remember those harsh words I have said to her… on and off… if at all… I seek redemption from that shiver… and yet I find some solace on the beautiful times I have spent with her… while playing Sanctuary with her and my kids… building our own world underneath a camp made of bed sheet. I feel a hand playing with my little wee bits of hairs… when I imagine dancing together on the New Year Eve in 2006. I remember that smile…

I know redemption is not sought… it comes on its own… its not a moment… it’s a narrative… it’s when you rise up and accept your faults… it’s when you start discovering the love, empathy and resolve inside you…

The last 5 and half years have been beautiful with you and I know when you close your eyes and think about me you would say the same… despite a few blemishes… I accept my faults… and seek forgiveness not from you… but from the person who I had known for 14 years… and forget yours.

Today is your birthday… and I would like to say just a few things…

I would not have been half of what I am… sans you… without you… for what I am today… you have been steadfast with me… for me

A very happy birthday… thanks for all the beautiful memories… for two lovely kids… for moments of serenity… for courage… for love… for emancipation… for refuge… for a rendezvous called LIFE.

Oh to have a brother!!!

Yesterday… my elder son Vidhu, along with my younger son Kinshuk (referred to, as Keenu, a citrus fruit… lovingly)… went to play in children play area of a mall…

There was this huge play area… full of slides… and children frantically running here and there… to grab the slides… enjoying themselves. But, Vidhu being Vidhu… was least interested in grabbing the slides and was trying to shield his younger brother Keenu from frantically running kids… later, he was seen trying to guide Keenu atop a medium elevation slide and enjoy himself…

Vidhu, I have always maintained, is a special kid… he is very well behaved… very considerate… like one day… when my wife, who after chasing him to feed… started weeping on her inability… and how he came near her… and kissed her… and started eating by himself. He is indeed special.

We have seen him many a times… when he beckoned us… when Keenu was about to fall from the bed… or when he held Keenu by his hands… alone… when he accidentally strayed on the roof tops… waiting for help… he didn’t even care to save himself from the pouring rains that day.

And how he use to hold Keenu by his finger… while walking down the road… We are indeed blessed.

And it reminds me of one of the oldest memories of my childhood… of my elder brother… when I was a five year old kid… and he of nine… when during the lunch time, we were walking down a pavement within our school… and how while trying to open my lunch-box… it fell and the contents got soiled… and how I was trying to pick things up… when my brother gave me his tiffin and gathered the soiled tiffin for himself.

I was blessed to have such a brother and so is Keenu…

Tracing the Silk Route Part Two- Central Asia

The second route is exotic with a capital E.

Criss-crossing the least visited locales in the world… it is the heart of Silk Route… one that joined the great civilization of China to the Persian and Arab civilizations.

So much so… that getting information about these locales is a difficult task… I, practically, search entire Delhi to get a Lonely Planet on these countries… but couldn’t find any… a book-shop owner remarked… Sir, it is very difficult to find it here… I don’t think anybody goes to these places… I thought… damn it! I am talking about Bukhara, Samarkand, Tashkent … these are the places that are attached to our destinies, our histories and our existence.

This route, I believe, is much more testing, challenging… and would reveal lots of hidden treasures of humanity, and culture.

Route Two- Western China, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Northern Afghanistan

• Urumqi- Urumqi is often dubbed as the farthest city from sea… it is very close to Turpan, which is the second lowest point on land after Dead Sea… it is also dubbed as the fulcrum of Ughiyur culture… I often say that China is one country that has done most experiments with the concept of nation-state… toying with concepts like Autonomous areas, one state-two system… Urumqi is a good vantage point to see how it works in actual, especially when recently the global media has been heaping loads of doubts on its genuineness.

• Alma Ata- Alma Ata or Almaty is often referred to as the cultural capital of modern Central Asia… It was one of the model cities that Russian built so keenly to showcase the Bolshevik model of development. Huge parks, large stadium… picture perfect infrastructure… Almaty, during its heydays… gave any city in the West… a run for its money… perhaps that’s why a huge expatriate community from all over the world chose to come and dwell in this beautiful city from China, from Koreas, from Armenia, from Europe… and the Americas … surrounded by beautiful hills. A peep through into Kazakh culture… Almaty is indispensable if traveling Central Asia.

• Bishkek- Bishkek is a new city, low on history or any kind of must visit places… however, it is one of the most modern Central Asian cities… has a unique flavour to its life. And a necessary stop-over to go to Uzbekistan. Kyrgyzstan… however… is considered a fairly modern country… and Bishkek its example… the Bishkek nightlife and discos are worth an experience… so why not shake my leg with a Central Asian beauty before proceeding any further.

• Osh- A detour from Bishkek… Osh is a frontier town of Kyrgyzstan… close to the famous Kashgar in Western China… Kashgar itself is the cultural capital of Ughiyur … it is very much in news these days because the Chinese Government is bringing down the traditional Ughiyur dwellings in Kashgar city (because, the authorities say, they are susceptible to earthquakes). Back to Osh… Osh lies in the picturesque Fergana Valley… where the forefathers of Babur used to move around as nomads… Osh is also home to the sacred mountains… having a history predating all written history… I am told many prehistoric researchers are searching for a sacred mountain, which every seemingly different and flung apart civilization used to worship… is it the one.

• Tashkent- THE CITY… at the crossroads of Silk route… from north to south and from east to west … lies this city, without visiting which… no visit to Central Asia is meaningful… and after visiting which no more traveling is necessary… once a senior UN diplomat from Uzbekistan quipped Tashkent is Jerusalem of the Central Asia… nothing is closer to truth… Museums, Parks, Historical Quarters… Tashkent has it all…

• Samarkand- Samarkand is intertwined with the history of India… it is the place from where Babur came… so in a way it is a essential component of India… being in Samarkand would be like discovering India in a way. Samarkand, I am told, is a town to be discovered at every step… be it Registan, be it Gur Emir… every nook and corner of this marvel tells a story of a vibrant and intense civilization… which did not have a match in the medieval ages… the city has seen more than 2500 years of civilization… has seen Alexander, Genghis Khan, Timur Lane… they cannot be a more palpable city… definitely.

• Bukhara- Bukhara is said to preserve the essence of Silk route, even today… it still preserves the simple way of life… donkey slow pace of life… the Rugs bazaar and the haggling therein… if one had to replicate the Silk route today… he would buy cues from Bukhara… with picture perfect looks… Bukhara is a must visit. Not to forget that the forefathers of one of my very good friends had come from Bukhara.

• Aral Sea- A human disaster… it tells the history of what humans do for their benefit… and yet they are not benefited… a whole sea which dried… creating unimaginable disaster… in 30 to 40 years… hordes of fishing community had to change their entire lifestyles… Do humans learn… I don’t think… Three Gorges prove that they don’t… melting ice-caps prove that they don’t… and they wont till they are not around to mess it up even more. That’s, perhaps, our destiny.

• Mazar-e-Sharif- tracing my steps back from I can reach Mazar… another historic city in Afghanistan.

Will I be able to do either of them… well I don’t know… but I dreamt it… gives me immense satifaction.

To Buy or Not to Buy... is the question

It’s an existential debate; mind you… say if one has to capture the memories… which mode is better, Still-Camera or a Video-Camera.

It is as existential as the most confounding question that I ever faced… while reading the first few pages of “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle maintenance”- to ride a motorcycle or a car while traveling… and not that I know how to drive either of them… Car, a wee bit… Motorcycle, tried my hand twice or thrice… but it opened a lot of other questions- whether to shoe string or do package tourism… whether to stay in resorts or backpackers den (or even better under the sky, as in Petra or Jerusalem… or so many other places, where I have traveled)… the moot question being – why do we travel at all?

Yeah! Why do we travel at all? Everyone has a different reason… some do it to break the monotony of their normal, claustrophobic lives… some do it for the heck of it… I travel because I love to travel… I feel emancipated while traveling… I feel good about myself while traveling. I feel that it is a life well lived… and yes traveling… not in the sense of moving along… I consider my stay in Kandahar… where I am hardly able to move, as traveling.

The other day I met Steve… a British national working as Political officer in UN… he is a treasure trove of information about this region… he has been in Kandahar for six years… I joked… Six years in Kandahar!!! It is a life wasted… but not really… someone asked me, why you relish this posting? I am not abnormal… I love my family… I love to play with my playful kids… I fear death and its shadows all around… but I love to GROW!

Back to the existential question … Still Camera or a Video Camera… it is a momentous question…

Still Camera often pales in front of the glamour of a handy cam… the slick advertising, which makes you wish… Ahhh! I had one… doesn’t it gives me a sense of having arrived in life… funnily, like a car, which my friends often tell me to purchase to justify my status or success (not that I ever count achievements as a meter of success of status… if at all my success is defined by the sense of liberalism and empathy I have discovered within myself… it is defined by people who love me… who confide in me… who must have met me only for few hours, to put together… and despite it consider me as a great friend and a great person to listen or talk to)

Back in 2006, when I first faced the epochal dilemma… (and yes I was facing it for the first time… as before it I never had money enough to buy a camera or a video camera…)… I went for a Still Camera… my first Still Camera (a digital one) was bought from the Balad market of Jeddah, Saudi Arabia… when I visited it on an official duty. I distinctly remember that I bought it from a Pakistani shop-owner… an affable gentleman who claimed that he had given me the best deal… and that I may return him the camera if I am able to procure it for a lesser price anywhere in the market. I tried but I couldn’t get a better deal in that humongous market…

Still camera opens up possibilities… so many that it assumes philosophical connotations… very very philosophical…

Despite its name, a Handy Cam is not very handy… it takes a lot of space… where as the Still Digital camera hardly takes up any space… that, to a traveler, opens up possibility of flexibility… of ease… of covering more distances more physically and metaphorically. Like when on the outskirts of Aleppo, Syria… among the high rising ruins of Saint Simon… when I saw some villages and ruins at a distance… I remember how I walked down the cliff… with the camera in my pocket… almost risking my life… well, a handy cam wouldn’t have let me do it… for its bulkiness.

Or when in Siwa, Egypt, I walked atop the Salty marshes… and when at one of the places I was all but swallowed by the marshes… when I was sucked thigh deep into them… (And was still going down)… I wouldn’t have dared to walk into the dangerous confines with my one hand tied with a clumsy camera… I remember… how then… I remembered all the lessons to save myself from marshes… and crawled on my fours… to save myself… (With a Handy Cam, I would have to crawl on my three)... Someone asked me, why I at all went there… I told him… I learnt my lesson… never underestimate the forces of nature.

Life is made up of moments… it’s not a continuous narrative… it’s a collage of moments… some sweet, some bitter, but all memorable… like meeting Abdu in Hamah… like sitting with kids in Aleppo… like meeting with Homda in Al Qasr… like meeting with a friend for life in Petra… or meeting with that beautiful Japanese girl in Jerusalem… and all those moments need to be captured and not the narrative of it all… imagine if I had captured those moments through video… I am amused.

I look around… how many of us… actually look at the video… say of our marriages… not many… the magic of moments is lost in the narratives… do I need to be reminded that how clumsy I was looking in the ill fitted shervani… or do I need to be reminded the broad smile I had when I saw the bride coming towards me…

I think I need moments… like some others who need a narrative…

I always maintain… that a still camera travels with you… and you travel with a video camera.

I chose to be the central figure in the process… I chose a friend and not a prized possession… the same way I choose public transports over personal vehicle… shoe stringing over resorts… Sleeper Class over AC Class….

A few days ago, I bought a second Still Camera… for myself… and shot the eventful gathering on Deepawali.