Arbit Scratchpad

This is a new episode #5 - Read the rest of the blog posts bottom up on the tag:  UttarakhandDiary It is getting hazy and dark, the taste of the halwa puri and another syrupy sweetmeat special to Haridwar first grabs my taste buds, sends pleasure signals shooting to my brain, envelopes my mind for a while and then as I finish it off, the taste lingers on in my tongue. Delirious, as I cross the bridge I can see the river of dark molten watery nothing-ness, caressing the banks, which slowly gets filled with thousands of gathering devotees all eager to look at a daily spectacle that will soon unfold. Ganga Aarati – river worship at the Hari ki Pauri starts around 7 PM every day. A glimpse of the holy fire is supposed to be sacred I guess, that’s why the near stampede; which I become a part of in moments. Until minutes before the fire is lit, agents of the Ganga Mandali are feverishly collecting donations from devotees, loudly calling out names of those who contributed and the amount th

Visit to Dr H K Kejriwal's residence – a fabulous art experience! The research on cultural entrepreneurship we are conducting at IIM Bangalore is indeed fortuitous and enlightening for me as we understand the art world dynamics; and add to it the fact that we are getting to meet, interact with and interview some of the best folks in the field and the business of art.  We had been to Dr H K Kejriwal’s residence today– founder of Karnataka Chitrakala Parishat, me and my research associate colleague. What a treasure trove of art it is – just fantastic. From works of Amrita Sher Gill, Abanindranath Tagore, Jogen Choudhury, to intricately done Buddhist thankas, murals from 3 BC, sculptures and Chola bronze works, Dancing Ganesha to I don’t know what else; cannot recollect all of them now. Stacks and bookshelves full of books on Art all along the walls. Porcelain cutlery, antique wine glasses, heads of temple figures, Buddha, abstract sculptures - many, many more artistic jewels. Lo

Continued from  here ... [ Yet another train to Haridwar ] Or read blog posts bottom up on the tag  UttarakhandDiary As he started off from Hotel Arati sitting in a cycle rickshaw towards Hari ki Pauri – the banks where thousands bathe every day, Mr S felt the drizzle on him – he had expected searing heat – this was so cool – literally! The rickshaw puller experienced considerable agony in pulling Mr S’s bulk through particularly one part of the market where the rickshaw-wallahs can no longer cycle but have to pull the rickshaw and the customer sitting on it as they walk along! Now we can see Mr S walking across the bridge across the Ganga (Ganges) walking down in the drizzle and then there he is standing on the red paved platform on one side. That’s the Hari ki Pauri. We can see him now as a tiny dot among thousands of worshippers. He seems to be saying “Wow, I love this place, it is drizzling and that makes it even more breathtaking”. Camera in hand he gapes at the thousands of

Continued from here ... [ Train to Haridwar ] Before I enter Hotel Arati let me abruptly pause for a while here and hop onto another train. This time it is a train of thoughts that travels far and wide to everywhere! Why am I here in Haridwar? What brings me here? To start with was it a conscious decision – of course triggered or by an impulse - that started it all? Or was it pre planned, beyond my volition? The latter is too farfetched to be imagined being true! At least I refuse to believe it although some part of my brain is instructing exactly the opposite – saying this is a part of my destiny – it had to happen… Going by the easiest explanation first - it was an escape hatch from the banal life of the city that is Bangalore – academics and work combined had merely intellectual stimulation to offer. Get away, anywhere, now! It was a short break of four weeks (the longest we get between years) between the second year of my post graduation and the next quarter when I had exactl

Continued from here ... [ New Delhi Railway Station ] Loads of foreigners in the compartment and also noisy kids; one set spiritually inclined the other decibel-ly! With all this however the train is quite comfortable – AC chair car – with breakfast served. After a few minutes of departure a person comes and sits beside me on the vacant seat and gives me a big smile. In another few minutes we start conversing. I tell him about my limited ticket up to Meerut. “So when did you buy the ticket, did someone tell you to buy it?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye. This man of a smallish build was well dressed and his black leather shoes were shining; he sat in style beside me. “Yes, the person at the ticket counter where I was all night,” I replied back, to which he started nodding his head in a gesture of knowingness. “Good,” he continued, “that was clever of you – unfortunately I came at the last moment and had to speak to the TC to enter without a ticket. So where are you from?” “I