The present through the past

On a rainy and a lazy Saturday afternoon, not having much to do, I decided to revisit my postage stamp collection which I hadn't touched since a long time. Browsing through this collection which I still manage to update, a wave of nostalgia swept over me. Those carefree days of yore replayed in my mind and I couldn’t help but think of today's childhood and that of the yesteryears.

 
There were hobbies then and there are ‘probably’ hobbies now. ‘Probably’ because I hardly know anyone from the present generation who see beyond the ‘electronic world’ which has so much to offer, so much to entertain, so much to while away one’s time. In those days painting, philately, music, songs, reading etc were considered a usual way of life and one was not forced

Those were the days when radio was an important mode of entertainment. And radio meant ‘Vividh Bharati’’Bombay A’ and ‘Bombay B’. Vividh Bharati was all about ‘Bhule bisare Geet’and I recollect ‘Hawa Mahal’ (Is it still on air?). The slow, but pleasant tune of “Hawa Mahal’ still plays out in my mind occasionally. Bombay A and B was about political discussions and talks on agriculture interspersed by Indian classical music.

Television was just launched then and was a luxury that few could afford. And the TV programs in B/W started at 6 PM, with a soulful rendering of DDs signature tune. Chaya Geet, Phool khile hai Gulshan Gulshan, the Sunday evening feature film interspersed by ‘Marathi Batmya’ …and by 10pm it was all over, television programmes done for the day. So off to bed latest by 10 PM!

 
Telephones meant only landlines and public call booths and not every household had a phone. It was a privilege to have one! It was ‘Bombay Telephones’ back then, not MTNL and with only 6 digit telephone numbers which were easy to memorize. Electronic diaries came much later. Telephone numbers were jotted in small pocket dairies and kept carefully in wallets or shirt pockets. 

All these meant that choices were limited in the world of entertainment and hence the recourse to hobbies. An interest in classical music developed as there weren’t any alternatives to listen to apart from the film songs which were duly memorized and can be recollected with ease even today. In contrast, how many lyrics from today’s songs can be recalled? There was a lot of free time which lead to pursuit of creative hobbies like painting, knitting, embroidery etc.

As I write this, the now obsolete concept of ‘Pen Pals’ comes to my mind. Exchanging letters with people from different parts of the world, forging friendships. Exchanging cultural notes, stamps and currencies’….Oh, what fun!!! FB is probably an electronic version of the same.

And how times have changed?? The B/W now seemingly humongous idiot boxes have given way to sleek and smart LED TVs with 24 hours nonstop entertainment. Radio means FM, blurting out the latest chartbusters. Classical music can go and take a walk. Landlines are giving way to mobile phones, smart mobile phones which can do everything.

What is the outcome? Inventions which were supposed to save time have made us busier! Hardly a program is being watched to its completion. Changing channels frequently is the norm. Instant gratification is the need. Patience is the casualty. We carry 2 mobiles in the innocent misconception that it will be convenient and get more irritable when they keep ringing, sometimes simultaneously. We don’t sit peacefully any longer, There is a constant need to send messages, update statuses and check out missed calls….uff!

As I write this, I question myself, am I being cynical? I think. Am I searching for unnecessary faults in a way of life which today’s generation has taken to like a fish to water? May be, may be not! But aren’t these facts?

Looking outside my window I see the huge glass and concrete structures of BKC staring at me and I compare the grand Gothic structures of yore dotting the Fort area in Mumbai starting from the majestic CST with these. These giant glass structures – How telling are they of today’s times? Speedily constructed structures, the glass façade giving me an impression of what facades are actually supposed to do. Hide the internal faults, the ugliness, the ineptness of modern constructions; an outcome of today’s need for instant gratification. It’s a reflection of the world that we live in today. A superfluous world!

Mist in Mussoorie.

The mist in Mussoorie

It's a dead place to go for a vacation, friends said. Why Mussoorie of all the places? 

Mussoorie, a bird's eye view

It turned out to be partly true!! I visited two cemeteries during my week long stay there.  

But let me start from the beginning. After having visited most places in Uttarakhand, Mussoorie was long overdue. Having read a lot of Ruskin Bond, the call of Mussoorie was too tempting to resist any longer. This despite the fact that this quaint little hillstation, once the 'Queen of the hills' has succumbed to the lure of modernisation and is now buried under the rubble of development,like most of the hill stations in our country.

The bustling Mall Road

About an hour and half from Dehradun airport, Mussoorie has somewhat paid the price for its easy acessiblity. This was evident all around me as as my car entered its famous Mall road. The road was bustling with tourists, eateries and souvenir shops. The mountains are impossible to view from here,their sight blocked by ugly hotels and shops built hapazardly. Thankfully, driving a little further down,the road widened a bit, shops and tourists became sparse and the sight of the hills gladdened my heart.

Climb to our Hotel

It was a sunny day on the 30th of May 2013 as I checked-in into the hotel which was located just off the Mall road, but at a height of about 300 meters from it. It was quite a steep drive upto the place. The view from my room was awesome. The windows opened upto the vistas of the greater Himalayas in the far distance. Unfortunately, the skies weren't clear enough that day to see the snow peaks from my window, but layers upon layers of the Himalayan hills could be seen till the eyes could see no more.

By the time lunch was done with, another 2 hours passed and suddenly I  experienced the fickleness of weather in the hills. The sun was now engulfed by dark clouds,a steady drizzle began, a cold wind blew and  the mountain chill turnied the raindrops into hail. I could see visualise this hail and wind battering the mountains which stood strong braving this onslaught. For someone who had just arrived from the humid coastal plains of western India this was a revelation!

A heavenly feel.

The next morning greeted me with another pleasant suprise. I peeered outside my window and a blank canvas stared back at me. It was a sheet of absolute white outside. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, wondering if there was something wrong with my eyesight. The hills had disappeared completely. It was as if nature had shut herself off by pulling a white veil over herself. The cool mist wafted in through the window..... Sitting on a rocking chair by the window  into my room with a cup of piping hot tea, a plate of Pakodas and a book to read...... Ahhhh... if this isn't heaven, then what is, I wondered. In some time as the mist thinned out, the clouds, the hills and the trees appeared. It seemed like I was witnessing a magician at work or was it a painter who had painted this scene on the white canvas?

During my stay in Mussoorie. I tried to look beyond the usual fare which a hill station offers, I stared unabashedly with a penetrative gaze and lo and behold, the beauty of Mussoorie unveiled it self,its mask created in the name of progress and development peeling off. I could feel its soul and palpate its pulsating heart beat. Beneath the apparently dead town I could sense a thriving, throbbing and timeless creation.

St Paul's  Church 

The Britishers should be given due credit for discovering most of the present day hill stations in India. Shimla, Darjeeling, Dalhousie, Nainital, Almora, Mussoorie etc being some of them. Mussoorie, while not being as important an administrative center as Shimla, served as a recreational and retirement home for many. The more than century old churches, some bungalows now comverted to heritage hotels stand mute witnesses to those days.

Landour - about 4kms away, the twin town of Mussoorie is as close as one can get to see how Mussoorie must have been in olden days. Being a cantonment area, it's largely untouched by the crass commercialisation that has ravaged its counterpart. Knowing that Ruskin Bond stayed in Landour, I decided to trek to the place. A left turn from 'Picture Palace' on Mall road and the road leads to Landour through the narrow lanes of Landour Bazaar with its quaint little shops. There are a couple of antique shops on the way which have authentic items for sale. Before I forget I must mention that Mussoorie doesn't have a single movie theatre at present. It used to boast of 6 theatres till recently, but unfortunately all have shut down. 'Picture Palace' which used to screen movies is now a gaming zone and has a small theatre showing 5D films.

Having snacks at 'Char Dukan'

Coming back to Landour, the best way to explore is on foot and this was no exception. A walk upto Lal Tibba, the highest point in Landour while very steep at places will pass through most places of interest. I passed Ivy cottage - Ruskin Bond' s home and on an impulse climbed upto the 1st floor where he stays in a single room, but one which commands a beautiful view of the Himalayan range. Without a prior appointment,I couldn't muster enough courage to knock on the door and turned back. Another the  1/2 hours climb and I reached 'Char Dukan, which used to be the parade ground during British days. Now about 5 shops occupy this area and provide food, groceries and other daily requirements for locals and tourists. Close to Char Dukan, is the quaint and pretty Kellog's church,established in the 1860's.

Rokeby Manor

Landour has hardly any hotels, I saw just a couple of them - Doma' s Inn at Ivy cottage and the Rokeby Manor, an old mansion, now run as heritage hotel by hotelier Sanjay Narang. Rokeby, which is more than a 150 year old structure has an interesting history and worth a look. 
Landour also has an old cemetery, which is quite well maintained, but not as big as the one in Mussoorie. It was locked when I reached and the caretaker required a little cajoling to let me in. It contains the grave of Tom Tom  Alter's  parents and many other Englishmen and women who never returned back to England, by Providence or by choice.

Ruskin Bond at the Cambridge book store

My visit to Mussoorie could not be complete without meeting its most famous resident, Ruskin Bond. Even though I couldn't meet him at his residence, I booked an appointment with him for the next day at the local book store which he visits once a week. The owner, a very affable person arranged it for me and also for a few books to be autographed by him. 

I should also mention about a few eateries in Mussoorie. 'Chick chocolate' opposite Clark's hotel on the Mall road where we had one of the best Pizzas ever which could easily put CPK and its likes to shame. It also had some lovely shakes. Mouth watering Tibetan fare at 'Momo's' next to Chic Chocolate and also at 'Domo's Inn' in Landour shouldn't be missed.


Ivy Cottage
Pizza at Chic Chocolate
It drizzled daily, through out my stay in Mussoorie. The mist was always hanging in the air, occasionally becoming so heavy that I could hardly see beyond couple of feet during my walks. It shrouded the hills completely and at times it floated through the open windows of my room giving an ethereal look to the place. 
There was a heavy mist and a steady drizzle on the the day we ventured out to see the cemetery in Mussoorie located at Camel Back road. This one established in 1929 has some old graves dating back to 1816. I called Ms Colleen Ganzter,(she of the eminent travel writer duo of husband and wife) and sought her permission to visit the cemetery and were asked to be there by 11AM the next day.

Mussorie Cemetry

I woke up to another rainy morning. Braving the drizzle and the cool mist,the 4 (my kids are more than eager always to visit cemetries) of us reached the gates about 1/2 hour early. We all stood there patiently huddled close together trying to get the warmth of each other's bodies waiting for caretaker of the cemetry. 10 minutes past 11, out of nowhere, through the mist, Prem Singh appeared.I looked at the his feet, expecting them to face backwards. The setting was perfect for a ghost story, straight out of Ruskin Bond's book. Confiming my identity, he unlocked the gates and let us in.  

Inside the cemetry.

The tall trees in the graveyard, the heavy mist hanging in there background, the continuous splatter of raindrops falling through the leaves completed the eerie picture of a spooky cemetery.  I half expected apparitions arising from the weather beaten graves. 
Strangely, I experienced no fear, only peace. The overall experience was surreal. The weather, being more responsible for it. The mist gently floated around, a chill in the air, and a sense of serenity descended on me.  The site of this beautiful cemetery on the slopes of Mussoorie, overlooking the mighty Himalayas made death seem inviting.... If this is where I would be buried forever, then I will welcome death with open arms, I thought as I walked in between the tombstones, reading the beautifully calligraphed, sculptured epitaphs.

My stay in Mussoorie was coming to an end. A lot of places remained to be seen, many things left to be done. I hadn't expected my short stay to be so memorable. With a heavy heart and a promise to myself to return, I left for the leg leg of my journey to Kanatal. 

Deodhar forests at Kanatal.

Kanatal which is about 40kms away and about 1000feet higher than Mussoorie is still a virgin hill station with few hotels that are scattered far and in between. It has an almost 360º view of the Himalayas. The slopes on either sides of the road abound with verdant Deodhar trees. Early morning walk through these forest of Deodhars gave me an exprience to cherish for life. The branches at the top of these trees form a canopy and the slanting rays of the early moring Sun filtering through them have left an undeletable image in my mind. In the background the chirping of birds, the monsoon call of the Koel.....Some of the best things in life are surprisingly free. I felt blessed as I lay down in the woods, staring at the morning sky, through the canopy formed by these tall majestic trees and these words by Rudyard Kipling quoted aptly in a book by Ruskin Bond came to my mind....

"and the last puff of the day-wind brought from the unseen villages,the scent of  damp wood-smoke, hot cakes, dripping undergrowth,and rotting pine-cones. That is the true smell of the Himalayas,and if once it     creeps into the blood of a man, that man will at the last, forgetting  all else, return to the hills to die."

My thoughts as I run

Thoughts form and the words flow.....

 The Joy of running! What I think when I run…. 

Running to the school as a kid, then to catch the train during my college days, then running about to establish my practice and now running the Marathons. No doubt, it is said we are 'Born to run'.

Tomorrow morning, in the wee hours of dawn, when most of the Mumbaikars will be enjoying their Sunday sleep, I will be at the Azad maidan along with thousands of fellow runners bursting with the pent up energy, brimming with enthusiasm, eager to start the 42.1 km long run - the Mumbai Marathon.

It will be a culmination of nearly all the year round training, days of getting up bleary eyed, at the crack of dawn to run every alternate day. Running early in the morning has its share of joy which only a runner can experience.

It's usually dark as I start my runs, the sun yet to rise, but the anticipation of a new dawn makes this darkness different from that of the night. The early morning chill, the cool breeze makes the start enjoyable. I am fresh, if the previous night's sleep has been uninterrupted, but more often than not, there is always someone who decides to get a stroke or an attack in the dead of night. Nevertheless years of getting night calls right from my residency days makes me get up at least once to check my mobile and see if I have missed any. Pavlov’s reflex, I guess!

Unlike the hustle bustle and chaos of the late morning, this time of the morning is a different world. The milkman on his bicycle whistling past, the vendors arranging the morning newspapers in neat pile, the roadside hawkers yet to set up their stalls and the near empty streets that greet me as I take a turn on the Hill Road are sights which I won't see as the day progresses. The occasional tempo with flowers, sometimes fish, zips past by me, stimulating, sometimes numbing my olfactory senses in its wake.

As day light breaks, the chirping of birds flying overhead in search of food intermingle with the music on my mp3 player. I see stray dogs moving menacingly on the road, barking and marking their territories. Somehow they never trouble me, though a lot of runners complain about dogs running after them. I usually ignore them and never even look at them; it's a dog’s world after all!!


I notice people, animals and the birds around me and realize that everyone seems to be living in a little universe of their own creation, going around their routine like well oiled machinery. The interactions that we have with each other, touching each other's lives is more often than not self-centered, catering to the fulfillment of our own desires.

I am getting my gear ready and also downloading songs in my music player for tomorrow’s run, a flashback starts in my mind and I recollect my 1st Full Marathon 3 years ago and how tense I was before the run. During my runs and even on the Marathon day, I always carry my Mp 3 player with me. I can't run without my music and contrary to the majority who listen to fast paced music or songs, I love listening to slow, but intense songs from old Hindi films. They somehow seem to gently mingle with the relaxed morning atmosphere making my runs more enjoyable. As the music plays on and my run progresses, my mind starts to take off on a flight of fantasy. The lyrics play on in my mind and I become one with the singer. I become sad poet, that rejected lover, the happy tramp, and sometimes the carefree young man trying to find his moorings in this world.

The middle part of the run is the most comfortable, somewhere between the 10 to 30 km mark. I go on a cruise mode now. A gentle rhythm has developed. The music of my Mp 3 player is regaled to the background now as the sound of my feet grating on the concrete starts to synchronize with my harsh breathing and my by now thumping heart and a different melody starts playing in my ears. I am in a different orbit now. I am in a trance, oblivious of the surrounding site. It's only I, me and myself.

The final part of the run, the last 10 Kms is the defining part. It can make me or break me. Fortunately it has been the former so far. It's run more with the mind that the body, they say and it's so true. Muscle fatigue starts to set in, cramps bog me down, the body tells me to stop, but the mind is made up. It has to cross the finish line, the job once started has to be finished. The cheering of the crowd eggs me on.... It's a few Kms now and the end is in sight. I reserve a few inspirational songs for the last 2 to 3 Kms  It adds a spring to my run and an extra bounce to my steps. I can see the finish line now. The sight itself rejuvenates me as it does to all the runners. The photographers lining the sides near the finish line brings out a smile on my tired face and as I breast the tape, I eye the timer. I have achieved what I had set out to.

As the agony gives way to ecstasy, the pain to pleasure, a wave of exhilaration sweeps over me and I recollect a quote I had read, “First you feel like dying. Then you feel reborn." It's been a satisfying run. One more run completed, my 1st full Marathon. It was all about competing with me, bettering myself and coming out on top. It was about my universe, the one I had created for myself and about conquering it!