At long last - Sanchi photos

My SANCHI photos, 2 months after I visited Sanchi and blogged about. What is afterall 2 months? Meaningless. Afterall, Sanchi has been there for a couple of millenia and espcially now after Bhimbetka!

So, look at the photos, if you will and re-read the post, if you would.

Time Travel - BP to AD: Bhimbetka

The maddening tour continues. Back from Bhopal last night and going to Bhubaneswar tonight. Which means this month, I spend 4 entire days at home. Imagine! On our first day in Bhopal, a sunday, we were able to wrap up things early and visit Bhimbetka.

One hour drive from Bhopal, a right turn and then a narrow, surprisingly well maintained road snaked its way up leaving everyone and everything behind and suddenly...we zoomed back to...well pre-history.

Was it the gigantic odd shaped prehistoric crags (dated BP - "before present"), the strange red, white and blue striations on the rock surface - believed to be under water before the north and south gondowana land collided to give rise to the world structure as we know nos throwing up many mountains ranges, including these rocky crags part of the Vindhyas.

And the cave paintings. Our guide dated these to be from 12,000 years ago - those in white; the ones in red being more recent merely 2000-3000 years ago and ofcourse somewhere in between the legend of the lot later Pandavas, bhim in particular - bhim baithika.

As the guide led us from one rock shelter to another pointing out the paintings - white, red, pale yellow and green....we were lost, transported far far away. Suddenly, the tour had ended and we were right in the front whence we had begun.

And only half an hour had passed and yet we had travelled 12,000 years. And back.

There is so much on Bhimbetka on the net. Archaeological Survey of India & Unesco World heritage site among others. But these pictures don't half capture the magic.

"See madam, the colours are all original, surviving all these years. And yet the C/5 marking that the ASI had inscribed to denote the rock shelter no. 5 has to be renewed ever so often".

Civilisation then, need not mean progress?

PS - Again, a digicam with a chip capable of storing only 3-4 snaps (argh! Dont ask ... long boring story).

The bright idea

On our arrival at Nagpur airport, we took a cab to the staion for our train to Bhopal. Trains have been running late due to fog, our MP NGO partners had informed us. And so they would be taking a bus instead.

We had more than an hour to spare before the train arrived. I looked up the reservation charts to find I was still WL1 which in effect meant, I had to no ticket and no right to board the train. My boss however had a confirmed berth. And she said we'd share. Half a berth is better than no berth for an overnight journey. Yes. Only we were travelling by 3rd A/C and my boss had a confirmed upper birth. That close to the ceiling and both of us sharing? We'll ask some one on a lower berth to change places, she said.

The train arrived only an hour and half late. I boarded the train on a general ticket. Our coupe was all men and one mother with an infant. We asked if one good soul would change place with us. No one refused outright. Its just that they didnot look at us or reply distinctly. Mumbled and looked away. The TT said I could pay the difference and share the upper berth but he couldnt give me another berth simply because there was not a single empty one on the entire train. Ogotta, upper berth.

I stood around glaring at everyone, gnashing my teeth while my super efficient, super energetic boss swung into action. She went up first and spread the beddings. Next she asked me to hand her the laptop, LCD, our biggish handbags, assorted shawls and sweaters etc and as I watched astonished, she made space and sort of curved into a comma and asked to climb up. Which I did. The alternative was to stand in the dark coach for 8 hours.

We were just striking enormously acrobatic poses on the narrow berth one feet from the ceiling when the chappie on the lower berth (the other LB was occupied by the mother and baby) got up and said, "Aap kaisey aisey jayenge?" At this the others too stirred. "Aap please niche aa jaiye aur main UB le loonga".

The others arose and helped us bring down all our stuff one by one. Their collective guilt now had a reprieve thanks to this guy. We repeated the entire process on the LB and it did take us some amount of arranging and re-arranging before we could settle down and eventually fall asleep.

We reached Bhopal relatively refreshed thanks to the chap and I know I should have been more grateful. He was fast asleep as we left and I hadn't thanked him when I had a chance to. Instead I had said, "if only you had the bright idea of changing places 15 minutes earlier"...

Puri Fog

Hasn't got the same zing as London Fog. But it was as deadly (I am sure).

I was looking forward to Puri and the warm climes . And it was. Not hot but comfortably warm. Day 1 Puri, Day 2 Berhampore boarding train to Kolkata on the same day. Work at Puri went well. Left sharp at 5.30 for Berhampore. And straight into a thick fog. The four hour drive between Puri and Ganjam took 6. Often the white stripe of the divider was the only clue forward. Fog in Puri? (Maybe).

Given my punishing schedule, I was looking forward to a delayed arrival in Kolkata due to fog. I sleep rather well in trains. Rang ma to tell her so and expect me around 7 am-ish. Boarded the Chennai Howrah Mail and post dinner was fast asleep. And within minutes or so it seems, there was the chap in charge of beddings waking us up, shouting Howrah, Howrah at the top of his voice. I looked around. No one budged. Some simply turned sideways and snuggled deeper into the berth!

What a bore. We arrive bang on time - at 4am. No fog? Haven't the fogiest idea.

Saraswati Puja post - belatedly

Saraswati Puja. And hurrah - I actually got a day off. No field visits, no on-going training session. That meant adda at a friend's. It was a particularly cold day and yet the roads were lined with jubak and jubotis resplendent (shiveringly so) in sarees and kurtas. Braving the cold. Oh yes. Saraswati puja is valentines day for the bengali school and college going youth, much before valentines day itself became fashionable. Same in Assam, my assamese colleague confirmed!

My schooling was not in Bengal and so we (children of expats) didn't know about that. Ofcourse some of the the tradition followed us to expat lands. Dont eat kool before saraswati puja. Which struck me as odd. What is "before saraswati puja?". And keeping your school books, pen, pencil at the altar and getting them blessed! Ofcourse we never had saraswati puja at home. But we did go over to other friend's home - once or maybe twice. And briefly in Q8 where a few families had a puja to which they didnt invite us - as if not wanting to share out the goddess' blessings. They chose to inform us after the puja was over. Hmmm...maybe that could be the reason for my less than brilliant academic career?!

I reached my KD's place to find a puja in full swing in his building complex. So it was good adda and great bhog from the puja downstairs - khichudi, labra, tomato chutney, aloo bhaja, payesh and rassogolla. And the garnish? 6 pieces (2 apeice) of deep fried yummy ilish mach from KD's fridge!

K the other friend and I dug in. KD the host however took only one piece and insisted I take another. At first I thought he was being host-ly and resisted (ever so briefly). But greed won and I had a third piece. Ah! Soon, we crept away bellies full of khichudi and ilish mach...to our respective homes and crawled under our respective leps. I felt slightly guilty (about the non veg gluttony). But hey, no more academics for me to worry about. So illish was not only OK. It was great.

Later on KD's wife told me that he felt guilty as he suddenly remembered his daughter's imminent exams and stopped at one! Lucky me, then?

PS - Immediately, within a day or two, I had an auto accident. And then I went to Assam and returned with a severe respiratory tract infection which I took to be the Duck's revenge. Was it?? I wonder.

The Duck's revenge

On our way back from a field trip to Morigaon district, we made a small stop at the Morigaon haat where my colleague bought a "Pati haan" or Haans as in Bengali, duck in English. It was just before Bihu and he thought he'd get a good price here compared to Guwahati. He was back in 10 minutes, a duck in a white bag which he tied securely and put on the floor next to the driver.

The bag moved as the duck squirmed inside, giving me anxious moments. What if it got out of the bag, flapping its wings and obscuring the driver's vision and pecking furiously and all of us - car and duck in the ditch?

That did not happen. The duck soon settled down, resigned to its fate and was quite silent through our long drive back to guwahati, tea break at chandrapur, visit to Guwahati university and coffee break. When my colleague got dropped off at his home, with the duck, I almost felt a kinship with it, feeling guilty about my erst-while drooling over visions of roast duck.

Two days later, my last day in Guwahati, we went to Bezera in Kamrup district for a field trip. This took better part of the day. We stopped at "Kake da Dhaba" run by locals but the Kaka at the till for a very late lunch! My colleague took out a tiffin box carrier the duck curry he had made. We ate heartily. Only the driver was reluctant. Why, I asked? Because old ailments resurface if you take duck meat.

Really?? Old wives tales, I thought, mentally. I paid scant attention, busy as I was stuffing myself and wondering if I'd make the flight (all kinshop forgotten).

Back in Kolkata, I was feverish. Next day I could not goto office. I suffered from the most agonizing pain in my jaws thanks to which I was on a liquid diet for nearly a week. Severe Upper respiratory tract infection. I thought I had won the last bout of respiratory infections, in November. The Duck's revenge was complete.

There I was jaws aching, nose, throat sore, constant coughing and head spinning from the barrage of useless information on what I should have done and worn back in Assam so that I would have been right as rain, now and not severely ill.

I was too weak to protest - It was not the incorrect clothing or the dust or even the cold. It was the Duck.