Thursday, November 20, 2008

Manali - Day 1


The night journey from Mcleod Ganj to Manali was uneventful (mercifully). I reached early in the morning – I think 6.

As soon as I alighted from the bus I caught sight of a snow covered mountain which was creamish-peach in colour – the kind you see on magazine covers and tell yourself it is the work of photoshop.
You can get this view only at dawn. I had observed the mountains at dusk several times and at several places, hoping to see them turn golden but they only turned ashen. It is only at dawn that the magic happens.

I still remembered, though vaguely, my previous visit to Manali with my parents in October 98. We had stayed in a very calm area. I did not, of course, remember the name of the hotel or the locality. But I did remember that it was very close to a certain Hidimba temple which we had not visited then. We had been content with the amusement provided to us by the idea of a temple devoted to Hidimba – totally unheard of!

Of the several taxi/auto drivers that surrounded me as I alighted from the bus, I chose one randomly and told him that my budget was 250 – 300 rupees per day. He drove through new Manali (as he said old Manali would be more expensive). To my disappointment, I observed that it had become such a shabby town with mean looking hovels and unaesthetic concrete structures everywhere. He drove from one hotel to another and I simply shook my head. I asked him if he could recommend some calm, quiet area – some place near Hidimba temple – to which he said that it would be old Manali. My nostalgia got the better of my calculative mind and I decided to go to that haunting place, where there still lingered a fragment of my past, my visit to the place, the four of us together – me, my mom, dad and brother.

As the taxi drove on, there appeared dense grooves of Devdar, winding rows flanked by rose shrubs, picturesque cottages and more Devdar. Here was the Manali of my memory, the Manali of my past. My tormented soul found some respite having found a place long lost.

The hotel ‘Gulmarg’ happened to me by good fortune. It was owned by the taxi driver!
This was the last of the tenements on that road. Behind this hotel and beyond, there was pure wilderness.


On the right of the hotel was a small kitchen, I was to learn soon, not to be judged by its appearance. Further there were vast spaces, Devadrs and a snow mountain beyond. In the front was the lawn and a row of rose shrubs…bright pink, crimson… on the left was the huge shrub of wild roses, as tall as the two storey hotel and laden with white roses. It was the first thing I noticed as I arrived here.



The surrounding air was diffused with the fragrance of white wild roses. Superlatives fail me and I shall not try to eulogize. It was simply heavenly.
This romance was interrupted only by the insolence of tobacco smokers to whom it does not matter an iota that they are in the midst of mountains, Devdars, roses and pristine air.

I set out, Alice in wonderland, kid in a candy store, with a spring in my step, camera in my pocket and a song in my heart.




It was the season of bloom. After a really long time, I saw sooooo many roses all at once…in pleasing colours and unbelievable numbers, all over the place.

Some double coloured roses. Pink and yellow petals in one single flower.









My first destination was the Hidimba temple.
On my way I found what I was looking for – a group of women offering to dress you in traditional Himachal attire and jewelry for a photograph. Ten years ago, when I had been accosted by them and my father had asked me if I would like to have such a picture taken, I had refused flatly thinking it was silly, perhaps laughable. What illusions one has in those growing years!

I wasted no time in getting ready for the picture as the women wrapped a colourful piece of cloth around me, one more to cover my head, some jewelry, a flower basket and a rabbit – a real one! I wish I was not soooo sun tanned.




The area surrounding the temple is simply beautiful. Tall, sky high Devdar trees, well tended rose shrubs, clean trails leading up to the temple…


It’s a pagoda shaped wooden temple, hundreds of years old.


Hidimba was a Rakshasi, but a good woman whom Bhim married in the epic of Mahabharat. The more famous Ghatotkach, who died in the Great War, fighting for Pandavas, was the fruit of this union.

Look at the embellishments on the temple walls! Remember, she was a rakshasi?



As you enter the temple, you enter a cave. There are a few small idols of female goddesses and one of them is Hidimba.

I will remember this day as one of the most idyllic, peaceful and romantic days of my life. The temple is at the centre and all around, there are the tall, majestic, beautiful Devdar trees. There are several neat trails from several entrances leading up to the temple at the center. This is one of the trails.


In these premises of the temple, you will find a motley mix of people – the not at all aggressive local people trying to sell you myriad merchandise.

Strawberry vendors


Wonderful strawberries. Freshly plucked from the farms. 10 rupees per cup. I had 5 to 6 cups. :-)


Then, I strolled over to the open area at the end of the trail.


A fair was going on. There were people selling sweaters, Kashmiri dresses, wooden, ebony coloured statues of Buddha – I was so glad to find one, key chains attached to small, oval shaped, flat pieces of Devdar wood, jewelry made of stones and then, they were selling colourful magic balls – these are the size of a mustard seed – red, blue, yellow, green, blue – when you soak them in water overnight, they become marble sized and look very pretty – colourful, transparent and shiny as they are. I stuffed my bag with three Kashmiri dresses, a Buddha statue, several packets of magic balls of different colour, 2 Devdar-wood key chains and an orange stone necklace with earrings. A very satisfying shopping!

Yak! You have to pay 10 rupees to have a picture taken with it. I took this picture stealthily.


This is a sort of temple for Ghatotkach.



I was accosted by some more people with the Himachal dress. This time, it was a lamb instead of the rabbit. I am ever ready to be photographed :-)




I strolled some more and retuned to the hotel. Anu Thakur, the manager of the hotel, a short, sweet, young fellow was one of the friends I made during this Himalaya trip. He was very friendly and helpful. He offered to show me around himself. He first took me to the club house by the Manalsu River.




This river joins the Beas River. Its water is very cold and its colour, a beautiful, pristine green, may be emerald.

This is the picturesque club house. Its interiors resemble the malls of Bangalore with their well lit shops and merchandise on display. There are rooms where you can play billiard and other games.


The club house is by the Manalsu River. We bought some fries to munch and sat on the rocky banks of the Manalsu. There were many other people. You could do river crossing on a rope for 100 rupees. Kids, boys and girls were doing it. I too, said a prayer and ventured.




When I reached the centre, they heaved the rope up and down so my feet touched the water below..Oooooh!

The next destination was a Buddhist monastery in the city. Instead of taking the main road, we took the route that was through a forest of Devdars. A good two kilometer walk… the best walk of my life.




These tents are pitched for ever. They can be rented by tourists.


This is Anu. He is a fan of Sania Mirza. :-)


In the city.


Cherry!!! How I relished them.


The Buddhist monastery.

Guru Padma Sambhava


Gautama Buddha. This is a very tall statue.


Tara Devi (I think)


From the first floor






It was getting dark. And we returned. There was nothing to do for the evening. I sat in the garden on the swing and sipped a cup of tea, while taking in deep breaths, the sweet perfume of the white wild roses that pervaded the night.

I called it a day. A perfect day.



Monday, November 17, 2008

Kapalkundala - Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay



This story is set in the Bengal of Emperor Jehangir’s time.

It’s a charming story of a boat that got separated from its fleet and lost its way, a Nabakumar left behind the shores looking for a means to reach home , a Kapalik who has an intent on human sacrifice, an enchantress – Kapalakundala – who saves Nabakumar from the tantrik, Akbar, the Emperor of Hindustan – Salim, a courtesan called Lutfunnisa…
95 pages of pure story.

The story takes an unexpected course at every turn.

This work is a string of interesting events tied together, meaningfully and with relevance.

It has all the features of a true classic. The style reminds me of one of those Sanskrit plays of Kalidasa or Bhasa …. A style characterized by a proper traditional beginning, a definite story or plot, a proper traditional ending which leaves the reader satisfied and nothing about the story is abstract. A well bound story, the pieces fit together very well and the characters too… such a refreshing change from abstract stories without head or tail – all in the name of modern writing.

Every chapter has a suitable name (instead of just a number) and begins with a line or a quotation – that is relevant to the content of the chapter – from other authors and their works like, The Comedy of Errors, King Lear, Raghumvamsha(Kalidasa), Ratnavali, Kumarasambhava, Keats etc.

I love the language. It is of a high standard, grammar is perfect, vocabulary is rich.
No pointless ranting about this and that, no tangents other than the main thread of the story itself. Very interesting and unputdownable.

I don’t know if that part of the narration relating to Akbar, Salim and their ways is authentic history or concoction.

The only time that you feel you are reading an abstract Bengali tragedy is when you read the last page, the ending. All the three protagonists meet with tragic ends. The evil man lives on though with his purpose defeated.

I am certainly impressed with the translation although I haven’t read the original in Bengali. Just reading through the translation gives you a feeling that it must be as good as the original.

I wonder why it has not been made to a movie yet.

This story is simply beautiful. I have marked it as one of those books which I would want to read again.

The following are a few of the many lines I felt like taking down for the beauty of language and of thought, that they contain.

…Unfortunately, from such a distance, they could hear nothing of the conversation. Had the range of human hearing matched the scope of human sight, who can tell whether the tide of human sorrow would have risen or declined? Creation is so exquisitely complicated!...

…It seemed to him that the world had been created only for good deeds; the whole world seemed to him a beautiful place. Such is love! Love transforms the harsh into the tender, evil into good, vice into virtue, darkness into light!...

Do read it.

Friday, November 14, 2008

On The Seashore Of Endless Worlds


On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead
And the restless water is boisterous.
On the seashore of endless worlds
The children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand
And they play with empty shells.
With withered leaves they weave their boats
And smilingly float them on the vast deep.
Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets.
Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships,
While children gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter
And pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children,
Even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with children,
And pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
Tempest roams in the pathless sky,
Ships get wrecked in the trackless water,
Death is abroad and children play.
On the seashore of endless worlds is the
Great meeting of children

- Rabindranth Tagore


Monday, November 10, 2008

Quadratic Equation, Algebra And Permutation Combination


Algebra

A detailed analysis of ancient works brings to light the fact that the Shulba Sutras also called as Vedanga, is the origin of Algebra. Many discussions are there in Indian Algebra about solutions to linear equations and simultaneous equations. Even now we can identify the progress of Algebra in the construction of the sacrificial altars during sacrifices.

During Brahmagupta’s time, (700 A.D.) Algebra was called by different names such as Avyaktaganita, Bijaganita, Kuttaganita etc. probably algebra was known by different names in different places.

Qudratic Equation

Aryabhata, Brahmagupta and others knew how to solve the equation ax2 + bx +c = 0. Now the method we are using to solve quadratic equations was known to Sridharacharya of the 10th century A.D. His verse on this is as follows.


Permutation and Combination

In India, from times immemorial, the mathematical methods of permutation and combination are in use. These two methods were mainly used in literary compositions, vaastu, music and preparation of medicines.

nCr = n!
-----
r!(n-r)!

This common sutra has been written in the form of a verse by Karnataka’s mathematician Varahamihira in 9th century A.D.


In Vedic times, sages used to perform many types of sacrifices. Then problems regarding constructing different altars used to arise. To solve these problems, geometry was used because it clarified many matters relating to earth.

Friday, November 07, 2008

Plant Blogger

Being a vegetarian, I would very much like to believe that plants cannot "feel" like us; but I have been hearing otherwise although very rarely.

The first time was when I was in 6th standard. We were in Gujarat; Ahmedabad - to be more precise. Doordarshan was the only channel then and there used to be some good programs in the evenings. One of those programs we watched without fail was Surabhi hosted by Siddhartha Kak and Renuka Shahane. Do you even remember?

In one of those episodes, there was a brief coverage of a village where farmers had installed music systems with loud speakers in their farms/fields and the farmers believed that the crop would flourish better when fed with music. I don't remember anything clearly but perhaps they(farmers) had seen the results of their experiment.

Very recently, I read Doomsday Conspiracy by Sidney Sheldon. Ok Hold on! I know he does not create classic literature but the background of his stories is quite authentic - be it medieval paintings or cloister convents, diamond mining in South Africa, multiple personality disorder or Washington politics... he travelled and researched before writing.

So in the aforementioned book, he has written about plants and their ability to "feel" just like us. He has briefly mentioned the works of Jagadish Chandra Bose in the field. He has also mentioned an experiment which interested me as it served to verify yet another of my preconceptions (based on facts) not related to plants at all.

Three identical saplings were grown in three separate chambers where all conditions like soil, water, temperature etc. were identical. One was fed with Western Rock music through a gadget wired into the chamber. The second was fed with East indian Sitar music. The third was not exposed to music at all.
The plant with no music grew as expected. The plant fed with east Indian Sitar music flourished very well with leaves and flowers and all. The one fed with rock music died within a few weeks!

This of course illustrated that plants can feel. Now, if you are wondering what preconception was verified, I will only tell you that it had to do with my view of Rock music :-)

The plants also responded differently when exposed to a priest and a criminal from a prison. The response was measured using some meter that could interpret plant impulses/stimuli or something...

The latest update about this subject came last week as I read Times Of India. Read on...

Meet Midori-san - the plant blogger.



"Midori-san," a 40 cm (16 inches) potted plant on a cafe counter in Kamakura, near Tokyo, blogs every day with the help of a sensor that measures electric signals and a computer algorithm that translates them into Japanese. The plant, a hoya kerrii, is commonly called a "sweetheart plant" because of it leaf shape.


Plants have weak bioelectric currents flowing on the surface of their leaves that rise or fluctuate depending on their environmental conditions.
The computer uses an algorithm to translate the signal data, as well as other factors -- including weather and temperature -- to translate them into words, which are automatically posted on Midori-san's blog (http://plant.bowls-cafe.jp/index.php)

Wow!!! Now thats some innovation! an idea completely out of the box... who would even care to find out what a plant feels when you dont care how your neighbour feels!

Well, I care, if only to acquire some fancy gyan that I can show off :-)
If you know of a book or some material, research papers that could throw light on this subject please do let me know.

And all my vegetarian readers.... let me know what you think...
My non vegetarian readers.... I have heard many times, your only argument that you wield to defend animal slaughter....your only argument against grass eaters whom you never tire making fun of...
in fact, the only argument, but for which the entire veg non-veg debate is non debatable.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Doubles, triples and Quadruples




June 28 2008 Sat 7:30 PM
English, 100 mins
Troupe: Evam Entertainment (from chennai)
Doubles,Triples and Quadruples

This is the most rewarding of all plays I have seen so far.
This troupe, Evam really is special.

They know the secret.
The secret to capture the heart of the audience. To make the audience fall in love with them anyway.

The members of the troupe are all very very talented. Some of them are from MICA (Management Institute of Communication, Ahmedabad)!!
No wonder their dialogue delivery was superb. First class! Especially Karthik, the cute charming fellow.

There were six to seven scenes, 5 to 10 minutes each. A newly married couple fighting on their wedding night, a father trying to teach his teenage son ways of love by taking him to a disreputed place, 3 men in a gang trying to shoot each other, two strangers in a psychiatrist’s clinic becoming acquainted with one another, a boy and his psychiatrist who looks more weird than her patient, and more.

There was humour in almost every other line. The spectators were roaring with laughter, so much that some dialogues were drowned in the noise.

Check out this line “A man should enter a marriage well versed in the ways of love. Otherwise, precious years are wasted in endless groping.” !!!! Wow! How we all laughed…

The show was house full. Why, there were people sitting on the flour, in between rows of seats, next to the entrance and everywhere…

This is the troupe that believes in doing things differently.

The show started with one of the members announcing the winners of a lucky draw. And when the winners went on stage, the artist announced that they had won free coaching in dancing! And much to the amusement of all of us, the coaching happened then and there with the artist dancing in the front and the winners following the steps!

Between two subsequent scenes the artists came to the fore and talked to the audience. They shared with the audience interesting incidents and episodes from their own lives. And they were hilarious. Meanwhile, other members of the troupe set the stage up for the next scene.

There was a plethora of profanity! But since it seemed relevant to the context, it wasn’t awkward.

The show ended in a nice way. They connected with the audience by a simple act of wishing one or two persons from the audience happy birthday and getting everyone else in the audience to sing the birthday wish to them.

They made us laugh, dance and sing.

Truly, it was a roller coaster ride. I watched the same play again in Chowdiah Memorial Hall the following week and fell in love with the troupe all over again!