Konarakam -seriously chilled beans

You would be right in assuming that with all this travel, Mum and I have not had much sleep. You would also be right in assuming that the Darshans and extreme dehydration had taken its toll on us.

Shabarimala

Swami Ayyopa...this was quite possibly the most intense and grueling experience of my life. I thought it would be a fairly straight forward walk to the top of a mountain, a pleasant jaunt as Vaishno Devi had been. How completely, utterly and abysmally wrong can one man be? This wrong...

26/11 - Dehli Remembers, I look on...

Before we launched off to South Kerela for the next leg of the journey, Shabarimala, we had a whirlwind tour of Delhi. We did the usual, Qutr Minar, India Gate, etc, all of which you can find in a copy of the Lonely Planet. The minar was the most impressive - a massive column of stone, finely carved with passages of the Koran encircling it all the way to the top. Even more impressive as it was completed 250 years prior to the industrial revolution, and that its construction has weathered everything that life has had to throw at it, with the exception of the recent acidic rains.

However, today is a little different.

Jammu City

Thank god Mum booked a sick hotel for the night. If you're ever in Katra, Jammu Kashmir, I highly recommend staying at the White Orchid - although don't book it through a third party booking site, cos they put a 20% mark up on the price - phone them direct. To be honest, do this for all your travel arrangements, cos agency websites are a rip off...

I booked an Ayurvedic session for her legs, seeing as we're doing another Darshan - Shabarimala - in a couple of days. She returned well happy. After a hearty masala dosa and Idly Vada breakfast, we set off for Jammu, with the help of our trusty Driver, Tamal Singh whose big heart was only matched by the size of his turban and moustache-beard combo.

On the way we stopped in at an out of the way Dhabba, and sampled the local speciality - Paneer Pakora - made with milk from the local goats. Twas pretty awesome, but I can see why us Indians suffer the highest cholesterol of any ethnic group. Next stop was the museum/castle of Karan Singh, and the Singh dynasty - the Royal Family of Kashmir. Gulab Singh, the first monarch of the region, was gifted the land for the princely sum of 2 lakhs (around $100,000 now) by the British Raj, with the promise he would help subdue the tribal  difficulties (both Hindu and Muslim) in the region. The Singh Family has little power, but are still an economic force to be reckoned with, in the form of Karan Singh.

After that, and a couple more temple stops, we arrived in dusty Jammu City. First stop was the silks and saree shop, where I planned to get a couple of prezzies for my female friends, i.e. a couple of pashminas. Ended up spending a bit more than I planned, but mates are worth it. I also got a glimpse of a 4 lakh pure pashmina - which looked pretty ordinary - they takle up to a year to complete, as the wool all comes from the chins of Kashmiri goats, which are notoriously hard to rear. However, these babies can keep you warm in minus 50 degrees centigrade conditions - no shit...

Unfortunately, the last minute booking doesn't always work and we ended up in some kind of crap hole in the middle of the city for the night. The food in the restaurant was good, but I screamed like a girl at the sight of a roach on my pillow and didn't sleep particularly well. The streets are crawling with police and military types. I get the feeling that it would be damn near impossible for any insurgents to even get a shot off without getting completely raped - and last time i checked, the tribal folks don't have enough bodies to waste in mindless suicide attacks anymore. At least not around here...

Ind-glish

You're all probably au fait with the Eastern World's liberal application of the basic tool of grammar, spelling and logical sentence construction...Here's a couple of top notch examples of Indian-isms with the language of the former colonialist bastards...

Vaishno Devi – Part 3 – Animal-Human Conflict

The trek is a bloody tough one. Hot and steep. And busy. And there are of course the monkeys. I’ve never seen monkey colonies as big or violent as these – possibly taking their cue from human cousins. The dominant species which has displaced the local Languor (small, furry, very friendly and cuddly) population, looks like a cross between baboons and the common city monkey.

Vaishno Devi - Part 2

With every Darshan, there’s a narah, or rousing chant that pilgrims will shout to drive themselves and everyone else around them. With the Vaishno Devi Darshan, its, “Jai Matha Di!” – “Long live Mata, holy mother and sister!”. This rallying call inspires the Bhakti (devotion) that pushes Yatris further, harder and faster along their journey. And you can feel the atmosphere bristle with energy. I’ve sat in on a midnight mass, a Passover service and a Hare Krishna Gho Pooja and there’s a kind of static in the air you can feel when thousands of people all come together for one purpose.

Vaishno Devi - Part 1 - Ascent!!

Quite frankly amazing. I used another adnoun in my diary, but one should never use profanity when describing divine beauty. Don’t panic, I’m not getting all born-again. This was a true journey, in every sense of the word.

The start of the Yatra is like some crazy market place, with literally hundreds of Wallas pushing their services onto you, trying to convince you that you need a donkey to ride up the mountain, that you need someone to carry your bag up the mountain, that you need a guide. But of course, we need these things like an iPod or Strawberry Cheesecake Haagendaas.

Heading to Jammu Kashmir

Snorts, burps and farts – the standard soundscape of a room full of Indians. I’ve begun mentally rating audible non-carbon based emissions on a simple 1-10 scale; 1 being a minor carb-induced hiccup (with mouth covered by hand); 10 being a fragrant rip-roarer, with avalanche inducing bass – bonus points awarded for any food particles, fillings, etc swept up along the way.

First Night in Dehli

We’re staying with one of mum’s friend’s families. This is the thing about Indians – you can meet eating their food, for no other reason than the size of their hearts. This family in question is Kalpana’s, the older sister of Jaya, mum’s company administrator, who Ma’s only met twice before. We have dinner and meet the fam – Tanvi, the daughter just finishing A-levels (PUCs in India), Raj who’s at Uni doing engineering and the Dad who sells capital-scale biomass power equipment. Dinner, as per usual in a home like this is awesome. However, we don’t get to chat too much as we’re off in the morning to the quite frankly amazing Vaishno Devi Temple for our Darshan, or pilgrimage. We’ll be flying out to Jammu Kashmir at 11 in the morning.

23/11 - Dehli Town - More Travel Thoughts

They accept things here. If there’s anything that I take away from India every time I visit, it’s that this nation is stunned into acceptance by culture and religion – Hindu, Muslim or Christian it’s the same. Everything’s inevitable and unavoidable, as God wills. How else can you explain the horrifying smog that hangs over Delhi city, perpetually cloaking it in a [insert your own clever shroud-associated simile here]. From the airplane it looks like the smog over San Francisco Bay mixed with masala chai. Or is selfishness that’s India’s problem? On the roads, it’s every man for himself; in the shops and temples queuing is what Europeans (minus the Germans) do. I could get cut up by some twat in a beemer at Deptford Anchor lights, but in Delhi I could get crushed into a half-constructed Metro stop any day of the week.

I’m hoping I’m gonna learn something new, see my homeland in a different light, expunge all my negative thoughts connected with this unfeasibly huge country. As the plane touches down at Indira Ghandhi International, I’m reminded of Grant Morrison’s words in ‘The Invisibles’ – about the ‘city virus’ that takes and takes from the land to feed an insatiable hunger, ever expanding, ever demanding. The city, like the corporation, has become a psychopathic engine (okay, last left-field culture quote I’ll use – promise), tuned to churn out meaningless chits of ownership over every aspect of life (do I have to start doling out royalties at some point?). The state seems to only care for money and productivity. In England, the only difference is that we’ve got a much longer-term picture, forged by centuries of colonial domination and fucking up.

I get off the plane and I’m hit by that scent of India. Everyone who’s been knows what I mean. It’s like russet and sandals, success and poverty shagging drunk mixed with a hint of jealous irony. Coming out the terminal, the sky looks like an ITV News Baghdad Special, but the warmth and twinkly eyes of the toothy taxi drivers lets me know I’m back in the motherland. Bharath Maathakhi Jai! – as we used to say in Shaka. We’re met by one of Mum’s friend’s drivers – for those of you who don’t know, many Indian families have a driver, not due to a desire for a bourgeois display of wealth, but because of the specific skill set needed to endure the most terrifying constant life/death struggle for supremacy that occurs on tarmac, this side of Darwin’s theory of evolution.

We pass the shanty corrugated-tin huts of road workers, occasionally getting a peek through an open door, to dust-filled cupboard-sized rooms and dusty mattresses atop disused oil barrels.
If the British Government could get away allowing it citizens and workers to live like this, I’m sure it would. We have hundreds of years of civil action and working class uprisings to thank for that. But now the old Gov (both Red and Blue persuasions) want to ‘limit’ industrial action? Nice to see Thatcher’s legacy still holding strong. Like it or not, our countries are built on the backs of workers – those who lift the rocks, carry the loads on their shoulders – shouldn’t we be bailing them out instead of the banks and pinstriped parasites?

I’ve just realised that this is sounding less like a travel blog and more like the exorcising of my own demons – i.e. politico-intellectual wank. I will address this.

Day 1 - A reflection on Travel

The minor terror of embarking on any overseas trip is always exaggerated by a certain set of common factors: customs security; duty free; constant elbow barging with face-masked japanese; and flying. If the comrades from Plane Stupid could see me, well, I'd probably be strung from the low-carbon yard-arm...

This isn't a trip to save a life - this isn't an academic embarkation - this isn't even purely the religious or socio-political experience, as I painted ad nauseaum to my friends and work colleagues. This is, in the immortal words of Ghandi, me getting the fuck out of Dodge City. How do I justify this journey? I don't. I'm sick of life and I want something new.

With that out of the way, onto the journey thus far. Sitting in the business class lounge (courtesy of mum's gold skywards card), I find myself utterly fucked off at Dubai Airport - over fourty shops and not a single one sells a fucking notepad. Lots of calenders and Amitabh Bhachan branded aftershave, but not a single pad. Hence a hurried and desperate dash to get all my thoughts down, before they dissolve into the cloud of my own FAIL.

I've always had somewhat of a dislike for Dubai. All these massive hotels, constructed islands and an airport that looks like the flashy bit from Logans Run, except with more black and chinese people...It's all a little sinister, when you look at history in general - the russian industrial revolution, the chinese great leap forward et al - these huge leaps forward came at the cost of thousands if not millions of lives...and the environmental issues suck too...but anywho, that's exactly the kind of thinking that i want to avoid...

Unfortunately these things simply can't be avoided, especially in India. I chatted to a group of musicians from Warwick University Symphony Orchestra (WUSO). They were an amiable bunch, all wearing "India Tour 2009" shirts. I asked them where they were touring to - "Oh only a private ceremony in Delhi." I probed further - turns out they were booked by non other than Lakshmi Mittal of Mittal-Arcelor (yep, the steel/manufacturing/mining tycoon) to play his son's wedding reception. An orchestra of twenty people - fully paid, expenses, full works. People and money, eh? Then I hear that the Ambani Brothers of the Reliance Megacorp are building a massive tower complex in the middle of Mumbai, soley for their immediate family - a Canary Wharf-sized building for a family of thirty...I shit you not...

But then, that's India for you...Anyhow, right now I'm stuck next to some Doncaster dude who's working for Tata Telecomms - he lives in Costa Rico and apparently hates working in India. He had something to say about everything I pulled out of my bag, from my malaria tablets to my coat - i tactfully kept my comics safely tucked away...

Arriving into Dehli was odd to say the least - health check points with infrared cameras greeted us. They seem somewhat shit-scared, nay terrified, of Swine Flu. Anyhow, we got through unmolested, the only hitch was waiting for ages at the luggage carousel - standard...

That's enought for this post...