Arbit Scratchpad

Being from Bangalore I had never experienced this sort of cold. In June it was 5-6 degree Celsius... what on earth would it be like in the winters? And the real reason was that I was totally unprepared. During the late entry of the bus (around 8 PM) along the circuitous roads with hairpin bends, firstly the mind was shocked and numbed, then a downpour started and as I got off the bus having reached Badrinath with only a jacket on - the chill hit me - hard. Initially it was manageable but later the second day the body was slowly giving way to the onslaught, unexpected, un-acclimatized and unprepared as it was. I managed to reach the GMVN Yatri Nivas asking many people on the way as it was dark all around and the drizzle intensifying and ebbing all the time.  The Yatri Nivas though spacious it had these flickering yellow lamps reminiscent of massive halls of some old and dilapidated mansion. The cold outside had me blinded and it took me some time to get adjusted, the dor...

Dedicated to all my friends – old and new - active and dormant ones too… As I was going back home that night, In the red air-conditioned bus, in mid-flight. I looked around, for there was some noise, Ringtones and mobiles had turned modern day toys. There sat on a seat - a sister and a brother. The sister was elder, the brother the joker! The girl dressed in black, the boy in brown and white, One would have been thirteen, the other ten, not quite. They made a jocular pair, the girl trying on a serious face As the boy continued clowning with his ‘Bugs Bunny’ grace. As he made faces to her, she laughed and giggled,  Enthused, the boy in his seat, further joyfully wriggled. Mumbling jokes, stories and comments he made. Mischief and energy glowed on the face of the brother The sister at times would scold and admonish,  Once resorting to complaining to their mother! I could feel the palpable warmth and the joy of the siblings. You share and care and yo...

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...

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 thou...

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 ...