The Train to Lviv and The Walk into the Lychakiv Cemetery and St. George’s Church with Mariana

November 6, 2017

From the Mezhyhirya Residence, it was time for me to retire to my evening train which was going to take me to the second city of Ukraine called Lviv. My taxi driver took me to the railway station which was rand and nostalgic in its look and feel. The electronic train timetable informed the passengers when and at which platform a train will arrive. I had heard a lot that I would face language issues in Ukraine but most people, especially in hotel and travel industry, speak English. Even the announcer at the Kiev railway station announced in English from time to time.This was going to be a six-hour journey which meant that I would reach Lviv only at midnight where a pickup had already been arranged for me by Green Tours. The train bears around four or five people at least in one cabin. We kept our luggage on the top berth as I sank into my spot. The train journey was like being rocked by a lullaby all the way. We had an especially fat Ukrainian ticket collector with huge round cheeks and dark bushy hair. She was kind enough to sell me biscuits, tea and cookies during the train journey.

At the Lviv station, I was picked up and then dropped to my hotel where, again, a pleasant English speaking staff welcomed me into my room. I had not gotten over the habit of smoking in my room and was fined again with an amount of 1,000 hryvnias for my offence. The next day, it rained all morning. I caught a terrible cold and cough and so, I decided to give that day’s city tour a miss.

Next day, however, I was ready and all fresh to welcome my city guide, Marina. We walked through the rain towards the footpaths and into the largest cemetery of the city, a place of silence. The dead of the city is buried here in Lychakiv Cemetery. A walk about its quite alleys was a spiritual experience for me. This time, Mariana was the focus of attention for my camera as I saw the cemetery through her eyes. The old and the young could be seen praying or just sharing a moment of silence near the grave of their loved ones. It was a poignant moment with the dead all around you but so much of grace and solitude all around. Colourful rose garlands adorned many of the graves while candles had been lit beside some others.

St. George’s Catholic Church that had been formulated in the 18th century was our last stop of the day where I filmed a hoard of small school children who cheered me up and waved to me as I filmed them. I cheered them up to say loudly “Hi India”. All the kids cried out in one go “Hi India!” and waved with all their might. The church was like many others that I had seen in this part of the world with huge paintings of Christ on a cross formed in gold adorning its many walls. Candles lit up the church as prayers were said. On the side were a few ladies selling holy books and distributing pamphlets. Its circular domes where painted with Fresca painting depicting one Biblical scene or the other. It was getting late and chilly as Mariana offered me her umbrella. We rallied around the streets of Lviv to find our way back to my hotel.

By adminin others, Ukraine

The Lake, the Gardens and the Wonders of the Mezhyhirya Palace

November 5, 2017

Anna was my constant guide throughout my excursions in Kiev as we arrived at our most exotic destination, the Mezhyhirya Palace. This was the stately home of the Ukrainian President and the hunt of the rich. It is a huge structure at the centre surrounded by huge lakes with gardens and walkway littered with yellow and orange autumn leaves. Statues and sculptures adorn the gardens of the palace. The most prominent attractions are the white marble sculptures of Zeus, the God of War and Aphrodite which are in great proximity to each other. Fountains, wooden bridges and wooden resting benches stare at the magnificent place giving a breather and rest to the tourists who are on their walk around the palace compound. Ducks and swans glide over the lakes as the water ripples away from its surface.

I walked through this piece of heaven which had a floating restaurant on a wooden ship in the middle of the lake. The air is chilly and it also tends to drizzle from time to time. But I was mesmerized by the lake as autumn leaves fly and float down the trees falling on the walkways. Visitors stroll down wearing shock swollen jackets over wind shatters. The leaves fall relentlessly and soon enough, we had snow. Yes, thin flakes of snow dancing down from the sky. I, for one, was busy filming all this with my GoPro as Anna narrated the history and background of the palace. It had a rich, opulent and pompous look about it. This was aristocracy at its naked best. There was a snack bar and coffee joint at the corner. Amongst it was also the toilets. One could have much on the floating restaurant inside the wooden boat on the lake. At a modest price of 200 hryvnias, one could also hire a buggy ride around the huge palace compound.

The wooden architecture and the exquisite stonework on the sculptures and statues which were all around the opulent palace were the highlight of my day and, of course, not to miss Anna’s running commentary. I was satisfied with the efforts of the day as I chewed on a ham and cheese sandwich and offered Anna my pack of Lays potato chips. It was an entire afternoon that I and Anna spent wandering around the palace. We stopped over for a while to capture the sight of a live Ukrainian wedding which was also being filmed. This time, they had a drone camera to video shoot the wedding. I too got a few shots of the young couple kissing and hugging each other. On the other side, you had Ukrainian aristocracy mingling and making merry around the parks of the palace all dressed as if they were going to watch the London Derby. I had my eye on the watch as I had to catch the 6 pm train from Kiev to the town of Lviv. This was going to be my first train journey across Eastern Europe – a six-hour odyssey on a Ukrainian train. Wow, I just can’t wait to narrate this experience!

By adminin others, Ukraine

With Anna at the Park of Eternal Glory

October 31, 2017

Anna was bang on time again to take me around Kiev. Our first stop was the Park of Eternal Glory followed by the World War II Museum. The park and the museum were built to commiserate the ending of the world war and honour the soldiers who died there. Anna was keen to show me around and I was pleased to see the history of Ukraine and how it was a part of such a great war. The rain had started pouring down and it was getting very chilly now. Anna was her usual self as I opened my GoPro from time to time and she started to compare.

We used to have sandwich breaks in the middle and sipped coffee to keep ourselves warm. This was Ukrainian history at its best.

By adminin Africa, others, Russia

Bye Bye Moscow and Learning about Criminology from Wilson Immanuel

October 22, 2017

It is time to say bye-bye to Russia as I took the morning flight from Tyumen to Moscow. On the way, my eyes fell on a shop in the airport selling Russian Caviar. I bought a box full of Russian Black Caviar. The 500-gram tin cost me 25,000 roubles. I can’t wait to reach home and try it with a slice of toast. Having tucked the tin in my camera bag, I headed for Moscow.

I reached Moscow in the morning. Moscow has three airports: Domodedovo Airport, Sheremetyevo Airport and Vnukovo Airport. My flight to Lviv in Ukraine was from the Vnukovo Airport. I took Turkish Airlines to Istanbul first and then to Lviv. This is because the Russians have cancelled direct flights from Moscow to Ukraine as there is a trade conflict going on between the two countries.

As I sat down waiting for my flight from Moscow to Istanbul, my eyes fell on an African gentleman in his late 30s. Looking at him, I instantly recognised him to be a Nigerian. Having spent 14 years of my youth in Nigeria, I can differentiate people from different African countries. Nigerian men have a distinctively different lip and forehead structure which makes them stand apart from rest of the men in Africa. “Hi, you are from Nigeria,” I said. “Yes, how do you know that for sure?” the man replied. “Well, I spent a lot of time in Africa. My father Arun Tikku was posted there and worked for Vegfru, the company that made tomato paste and orange juice in Nigeria. I have also lived in Lagos, Kano and Gombe when I was a teenager.”

The man was excited to know that “Ah hah. You are well versed with our country. Can you speak the languages as well?” he looked at me with friendly eyes. “Yes, a bit of Yoruba but I have forgotten it now. It has almost been twenty years since I was last in that country.” We got talking about the current state of Nigeria about Boko Haram and the rising corruption in the country. “I am now a travel blogger. I travel the world and have a blog where I write about my experiences. You see, social media is the place to be now. We are all in one globe and due to social media, we can interact and work from any part of the world.” I said excitedly explaining to him about the various features of my site and the intricacies of social media.

I then opened my site in my mobile phone and showed him. “Well, I am Wilson Immanuel. I am a professor in Criminology. I teach and study crime and its various facets at the Ibadan University.” Bang! It was as if a light bulb lit up within me. I started pouring my heart out to him and told him about the brutal murder of my father by the serial killer Vijay Palande and how I coped with the brutal tragedy in my life. I then took him through the entire episode on the internet. “Well, Anuj, I am shocked to hear this. I do study serial killers but my focus has been on ritual killing as this is very common in Nigeria. Here, people kill others as part of human sacrifice to please the Gods or to sell the body parts to other people. Ritual killing is done by shamans and people well versed in the art of voodoo.” I asked him to read the book ‘Front Page Murders’ that is based on my father’s murder as it would help him understand serial killers better. “You know Immanuel, I visited a shaman in Zambia and asked him to perform voodoo so that the spirits would destroy my father’s killers. But he asked me for 5,000 dollars to perform a camel sacrifice to which I duly declined. Yes, I did see the wooden doll talk though. That was the only piece of voodoo that I saw.”

Wilson was fascinated by my story “Man, you can write a great book on your life when you are through doing all this. I will keep in touch with you and buy the book that you have suggested. All the best!” It was time to board the Turkish Airlines flight to Istanbul and with a big wave, I said goodbye to my African friend who followed me into the flight. I guess my journey ‘Tikku’s Travelthon’ is all about these unexpected encounters with strangers who I befriend and find some deep connection with. I felt light and slept peacefully all through the flight.

By adminin Agra, India, others

Prayers and Pethas in Agra

October 13, 2017

Agra’s claim to fame is the Taj Mahal. There is another speciality of the city – the translucent pethas, soft candies in novel shapes and flavours made with the local ash-gourd.

Known as kashiphal in Hindi, the ash-gourd is actually a fruit but is referred to as a vegetable because it is cooked and eaten as a vegetable. It has religious significance as well. Kashiphal is offered to the gods at religious ceremonies and is considered to be potent in warding off the “evil eye.” At some places, it can be spotted hung outside newly-constructed homes.

The petha is a sweet unlike other sweets. The use of ingredients like lime and alum in its preparation gives it an offbeat texture making it crispy, juicy, chewy or melt-in-the-mouth sweet. Petha, kesar angoori petha, petha paan and kesar petha paan are the names of some of the varieties sold in the market. Agra’s petha-making is a thriving cottage industry.

After admiring the Taj Mahal from close up and from behind the balustrade at Agra Fort, the objective of the family trip to Agra is fulfilled. Next, visitors search for shops selling the famed petha. The most famous is Pancchi Petha with the original shop in Sadar Bazaar and branches all over the city. Sadar Bazaar, a popular shopping destination, is not far from the Taj, Fort and Agra Cantt. Railway Station.

The chunks of syrupy pethas arranged in the Pancchi shop look very mouth-watering. The aroma of ilaichi (green cardamom), kesar (saffron) and kewra water (screwpine essence) floats lightly in the air as if trying to balance above the heavy fumes of the sweetness of sugar.

Other petha-selling shops try to match the competition. One is by innovation by finding new flavours such as chocolate, paan, khus, orange, pineapple, coconut, dry fruits and even a sandwich variety, which comprises of two layers of petha with a filling of khoya, cashew and cardamom. Another is by trying to mislead the prospective buyer by imitating the Pancchi brand name. Boards on lamp posts and rickshaws fitted with loudspeakers moving around the city announce the superiority of their pethas. But Pancchi leads.

Bhanwar Petha Bhandar, in the opinion of Agra’s petha-eating public, is the second best. It has never advertised, keeps its prices reasonable, makes just three varieties and has only one shop where its pethas are sold. The flagbearer 100-year-old shop, Bhanwar Petha Bhandar, is located in the Noori Gate area, home to nearly 1,000 cottage units manufacturing pethas.

Bhanwar started with the traditional dry petha and progressed to the kesar and angoori varieties. He earned his reputation by maintaining very high standards in the manufacturing process. After Bhanwar Lal’s death, his son Ranjit Lal took charge. He spared no effort or money to keep the flag flying high.

Then came India’s Partition in 1947. Taking advantage of the exodus to Pakistan, Ranjit shifted from his three-room accommodation in the back lanes of Noori Gate to a just-vacated haveli in the erstwhile Muslim–majority area. It was close to Thomson School which, in the same year, was renamed to Sarojini Naidu Medical College. This was where his wife Nandini delivered their daughter a few years later. They named her Bhanumati, the beautiful princess-wife of Duryodhana.

“According to Indian folklore, Bhanumati was known for her pitara (casket) containing wealth and goods that created happiness and surprises. It was known as Bhanumati ka pitara. Our 20^th century Bhanumati will bring good fortune to our family,” a proud Ranjit would tell his workers. Gradually the 40-room haveli started filling up with relatives of Ranjit and Nandini. They helped the family’s petha business grow consistently as well as in further building up its reputation.

Bhanumati had no shortage of cousins, uncles and aunties. Laughter echoed in the corridors and aangan (courtyard) of the haveli from dawn to sunset. Bhanu would lead her sena (army) of cousins through the crowded lanes of Hing ki Mandi, Kinari Bazaar and Nai ki Mandi. They would run around the stray foreigners bargaining over models of miniature Taj Mahals, fancy clothing, Oriental jewellery and other knick-knacks. The children dodged rickshaws, tongas and burkha-covered women as they headed to nowhere in particular.

Bhanu, whenever she got some money from her father, would take her cousins for a treat to Chimmanlal Puriwale, a popular vendor on Daresi Road near Kinari Bazaar where they gorged on yummy plates of puri-sabzi-raita served in a pattal (leaf plate) and a sweet bowl of kheer (rice pudding). Little did she know then that she was destined to enjoy the plates of puris only. Her kismet had not included a shopping spree at Kinari Bazaar among her many achievements. The market offers a wide variety of Indian jewellery, trousseaus and other wedding wear.

Bhanu’s formal education started when her parents enrolled her in an English medium school. As she entered her teens, Bhanu took charge of increasing her knowledge about the family business. She would go to the Noori Gate factory and carefully observe the time-consuming process of preparing pethas in the traditional way as her grandfather had followed. The entire procedure took five days and the results were unmatched.

The procedure started with peeling and chopping of the ash gourd. This was followed by the overnight soaking of pricked ash gourd pieces in chuna (slaked lime) with water, the process of rinsing, the addition of phitkari (powdered alum) and again boiling the pieces in water, cooling down, and again cooking them in water mixed with sugar to give them a white coating.

Addition of kewra, repetition of the rounds of heating, cooking and cooling to allow absorption of the sugar took another 2 to 3 days. Crystallisation left the pieces firm from outside, slightly juicy from inside and very delicious overall. Seeing her determination of not getting trapped in the confines of a woman’s time-honoured role, her aunts would taunt her. “The petha is better than you. At least it is soft under the hard shell, and sweet too. You are hard all over and bitter as well.”

In a fit, Bhanu’s reaction always was: “Then why don’t you pay the rent for living in the haveli for the past ten years. Don’t forget the electricity and water bills as well. Then see how sweet I will become.” She did not take into account their contribution to the family venture.

“Don’t be rude to your elders, beti,” her mother would reprimand her. Bhanu would walk out of the huge wooden carved and metal-studded gates of the haveli in a huff. Her destination was always the Noori Gate factory where her confidante-cum-mentor, the toothless, white-haired Ghulam Ahmed, could always be found.

He had seen her grow up from yesterday’s baby greedily sucking her mother’s breast to the on-the-sly chewer of No. 300 strength tobacco paan (betel leaf) of today. “See Ahmedbaba, the masis and buas (aunties) are all jealous of my independent spirit,” she complained from the side of her mouth before squirting out a spray of red paan juice into the nearby drain. “Just wait till my day comes,” she said derisively and decisively.

Compassion and forgiveness were not part of Bhanu’s characteristics. Her “wait till my day comes” declaration arrived unexpectedly. The following week her parents went on a pilgrimage to faraway Vaishnodevi. The bus they were travelling in on the uphill journey skidded off the road taking the many lives of Ranjit, Nandini and all the other pilgrims. There were hardly any remains in the deep ravine.

Bhanu’s mourning ended on the 10^th day after the tragedy. On the morning of the 11^th day, she asked her long-staying relatives that if they did not pay her for their extended stay, they better pack their bags. “Give us a month to decide,” was their reply.

Three weeks later, while the haveli corridors echoed with the “gutur-goo” calls, the resident white-feathered pigeons had a haunted look about them. Bhanu’s relatives had departed or, so she wished, had turned into abominable spirits. She promptly recruited staff to fill up the vacant positions.

“I am soooo happy,” Bhanu informed the pigeons indoors and the squirrels outside the haveli busy nibbling raw green guavas hanging onto the branches of the guava trees. Her voice echoed so she repeated herself till she choked. She promptly walked down to her factory. On the way, she remembered a lesson Ahmedbaba had taught her.

During her schooldays, Bhanu recalled Ahmedbaba telling her that apart from the Taj Mahal, there were many other places to see in Agra. There was Sheesh Mahal Palace of Mirrors near Agra Fort, Ram Bagh, a few mausoleums and masjids. When one resides in a city permanently and is used to the daily sights and sounds, then the novelty of history fails to register. But Bhanu never could forget the uniqueness of one historic place.

In a bass tone, Ahmedbaba would start with the introduction. “Fatehpur Sikri was the capital of Emperor Akbar’s empire for 14 years,” he was very fond of repeating to Bhanu when she used to return from school and sneak into the shop to make off with a piece of petha when she thought no one was looking.

Then, to hold her attention, he would dramatically move his hands to illustrate his narrative. “The sight of the Buland Darwaza at the entrance to the courtyard of Jama Masjid and the tomb of Salim Chishti is mesmerizing.” Ahmedbaba always lowered his forehead and kissed his fingertips when he took the Sufi saint’s name.

The finale: the purpose of his narration. Looking into her eyes and in a singsong voice, he would intone: “The gateway of Fatehpur Sikri’s Buland Darwaza has an inscription in pharsee which reads: ‘Isa (Jesus), son of Mary said: ‘The world is a bridge, pass over it but build no houses upon it. He who hopes for a day, may hope for Eternity; but the world endures but an hour. Spend it in prayer for the rest is unseen.’ So bitiya (daughter), remember this lesson. It is very valuable and Allah will be pleased.”

As she wondered about the meaning of the advice of Jesus to his followers, she reached the factory. “Ahmedbaba, salaam and shukriya (thanks) for taking care of the work as I could not leave the house.” Then in a whisper “Let’s have a paan together. Haan, and I want to meet that launda (youth) who got married recently and still has not found a place in Agra to bring his begum (wife) from her sasural (in-laws’ place).”

“Arre, here he is. Arre Anwarbhai, now there is lots of place in the haveli. If you are willing to pay a token sum as rent then why don’t you bring your begum over from the village and shift to the haveli this Friday?”

“Bhanuji you are so generous. My Noorjanu will be very blessed to be so close to you and be of some help,” was Anwar’s quick response accompanied by a dignified bow and an “aadaab.”

A week later, Anwar and Noor moved into one of the ground floor halls of the haveli. Pink-lipped, a fair complexion, slender figure, long hair and soft blue eyes, Noor was unable to hide her happiness as she stood in the indoor central courtyard with a verandah surrounding the living area. She threw her arms up in the air, spun around on her heels and embraced Bhanu till her excitement subsided.

The intricately-carved white-green-peacock blue painted stone jalis (latticed screens) bordering the verandah gave the rooms seclusion without depriving them of daylight. The high ceiling of the hall that the newly-weds were allotted gave the interiors a cool appearance. The floor was carpeted with white highly polished marble tiles and their four battered black tin trunks and one olive green dog-eared holdall looked out of place in this regal backdrop as did a large fan suspended from the ceiling.

“The fan is a recent addition. I got it installed three days ago just for you,” Bhanu informed them. “The light from the street lamps outside will shine through the massive windows and roshandans (skylights). So you better get used to sleeping in the roshni (light). Or just imagine it to be moonlight,” she joked.

“My drawing room is right above this hall. So don’t worry, I will not be disturbed,” said Bhanu, giving a quick wink to Noor. “If you people have any questions or need anything, just call out to me. Sound travels very well in this empty haveli,” she enlightened them with a laugh.

“You can roam around the entire ground floor and select which kitchen or toilet to use. There are plenty of choices. The water and electricity supply is not a problem. And don’t feel shy,” she added before heading for the wide arch-shaped stairs leading to the first floor. Then, as she went up the stairs slowly, she suggested: “It would be best if you sleep directly under the fan. It will take some time for the haveli’s musty smell to go.”

For the next one week, while Noor gained familiarity with the spacious haveli and the neighbourhood, Bhanu arranged for their meals to be sent from the nearby Zaki Restaurant and told her dhoodwala (milk supplier) to provide them with milk every morning. Anwar told Ahmedbhai of Bhanuji’s generous nature.

Ahmedbhai heard his bitiya’s praise and tears welled up in his eyes. He raised both his palms skywards and silently chanted his favourite Persian axiom: “The world is a bridge, pass over it but build no houses upon it.” Rubbing his face with his rough, calloused palms, he thought: “Bitiya, you are great.”

That evening Anwar presented Bhanuji with a kulhar (earthen pot) of freshly made rasgullas as a ‘thank you’ gift. He needn’t have, Bhanu thought with a crafty smile. As the night progressed and silence reigned over the haveli, she switched off her bedroom’s chandelier and tiptoed to her drawing room. Rolling up the thick carpet from one side, she stopped at the point where the fan was positioned in the room below.

Patting down the carpet and lifting up the heavy tile above the fan, she lay down on her stomach, chin resting on her knuckles on top of the upraised rolled-up part. In a comfortable position, she had a clear view of the central portion of the room below. The bed of the newlyweds was visible from the space all around the fan’s cup attached to the 20-foot-high ceiling. Right below, she clearly saw Noor folding the bedcover and Anwar fluffing up the pillows.

Bhanu knew she did not have to wait for long. She had been observing the newlyweds every night for the past one week, all the way from the start to the finish. They kept the hall lights on and had not disappointed her even once as the Bhanumati ka pitara unwound and rocked in the hall below her. After all, she thought: “He who hopes for a day, may hope for Eternity; but the world endures but an hour.” She could wait for that long.

“Waah, Ahmedbhai. Waah Buland Darwaza,” she muttered, moving her wet lips in silent prayer to the enterprising voyeuristic nightly entertainment. “Kya kamala ki cheez hai tuu,” she patted herself, feeling her body turning as soft as a petha. It was time well spent, she contented, as she could “Spend it in prayer for the rest is unseen.”

By adminin Bangalore, India, Kerala, Kodaikanal, others, Tamil Nadu

AEYO! Moving Along South India

October 8, 2017

Last week or so, I was journeying around the southern states of India – Tamil Nadu, Kerala and Karnataka. It was a breeze making my Travelthon video while exploring the scenic spots of magical Kodaikanal hills. I like the fish in South India and even tried beef Kerala style in Thiruvananthapuram. The greenery and the ocean shore, especially Kovalam Beach is a very beautiful location to shoot. Some of the original shits of the Travelthon video were taken on this beach itself. In the evening, we enjoyed beer and snacks as my team and the director explored the various features of the GoPro camera.

Kerala is an Ayurvedic state and the land of the Kathakali which is a traditional dance performed by dancers who use bright face paint and colourful attire to decorate themselves before they perform this energetic dance. I stayed in four-star hotels costing Rs 4000 or so per night. I also got a discount in some of them as it was booked by my team Infynith.

After Kerala and a drive to Kodaikanal, I stopped over at Bangalore to meet my friend Prakash Dhar. I spent four days with his family getting acquainted with the finer points of technology and blogging from the I.T. man Prakash himself. South has become like my bastion. I feel like a Chola King nowadays. Wherever I go, I see dark men with big mooch wearing dhoti. I especially got irritated with a little kid who came between me and my camera when I was giving my monologue on the Padmanabhaswamy Temple.

Kerala is a busy town but a clean one. People have a great civic sense and with churches and local lawns, there are lots of community places where people can gather around. I shot at one of these squares in the middle of Thiruvananthapuram with a lady singer singing away and a poet reciting his poems. People here are modest and conservative but also relaxed.

Aeya! This was, indeed, a trip to the South and the birthplace of my Travelthon promotion video.

By adminin Himalayas, others

Kailash Mansarovar Yatra

July 15, 2017

Every year, citizens of India aim for the Kailash Manasarovar Yatra which is organised by the Government of India under control of the Ministry of External Affairs. It starts at the end of May or early June to September. The pilgrimage or ‘Yatra’ is open to all Indian citizens above 18 years of age who wish to proceed to Kailash and Mansarovar for religious purposes.

The holy Mt. Kailash is situated in the western Tibetan plateau in the northernmost region of the Himalayas. It is also referred to as Mt. Meru and Kang Rinpoche. Some also call it snow jewel. Mt. Kailash is over 22,000 ft. It’s also known to be the abode of Lord Shiva. Hindus firmly believe in performing a ‘parikrama’ which is a 51 km walk around the circumference of Mt. Kailash with a belief that it will wash away their sins.

Mt. Kailash is also the birth place of the four holy rivers namely the Sutlej, the Indus, the Karnali and the mighty Brahmaputra.

Once you travel south-east of Mt. Kailash, you will arrive at a tranquil blue orbicular lake named Mansarovar. In Tibetan, it’s known as the ‘precious lake’ or Tso Rinpoche. The lake has freezing cold water and pilgrims take a dip in the cold waters for the belief that it has supernatural powers which are also considered spiritually beneficial.

So, this auspicious journey roughly lasts for about 26 days. Visa process takes place in Delhi. Therefore, the pilgrims have to spend an additional period of 4 days in the capital to obtain permissions and complete paper work and obtain medical clearances. The Yatra commences in a group of 60 pilgrims each starting first week of June and goes until the end of September.

Applicants for the Yatra should possess Indian passports. The cost of the journey is paid to Kumaon Mandal Vikas Nigam and Indo Tibetan Border Police. Few hundred dollars are paid on Chinese side for the logistics support.

The Indian Mountaineering Foundation has termed Mt. Kailash and Manasarovar Yatra as the most treacherous expedition with an extreme risk to life in comparison to the other treks like Amarnath and Vaishnodevi Yatra. The journey is extremely arduous for the pilgrims who are not fit as the conditions are hostile which sometimes leads to mountain sickness which can be life threatening.

Applicants should be physically healthy, medically fit and are required to undergo a comprehensive medical examination in New Delhi. A second medical test to ascertain reactions to altitude trekking is done at Gunji, after 6 days of the Yatra, at a height of 3500 meters.

Complete applications in the prescribed format should be sent to Under Secretary (EA) Room No. 255-A, South Block, Ministry of External Affairs, New Delhi-110011 in mid-March every year as stipulated by the Government of India.

The selection of Yatris is done by India’s Ministry of External Affairs through a computer-generated random gender-balanced selection process.

For further details on the Yatra, please visit the official website of Kumaon Mandal Vikas Nigam.

By adminin others

The Delhi Golf Club: Great Heritage, Beautiful People and Single Malt

January 24, 2017

Janak and I had walked on the lawns of the Delhi Golf Club seeing peacocks in all their bloom. The peacocks were walking past us as if we were strolling in an old Mughal palace. The gold course all lit up in the evening as vanilla white light falls on the green shiny grass. The lawn reflects light back forming a misty hue above the golf course.

I got down to some serious photography here the other day. Taking shots of the members in the bar sipping away at their whiskey and cognacs as they puffed away at their fatty cigars discussing the politics and news of the day. There were young golfers polishing their sticks and getting ready to take another crack on the course as caddies sat on the lawn waiting for instructions from their lords.

The lawns are super maintained and look like velvet. There are side walk lamps that lit up the club premises in the evening. They had a very old Delhi look but a lot more class and the best pedigree of members in India. The club consisted of the old, rich and powerful of Delhi, maharajas and civil servants, old and new age business men. The who is who of Delhi frequents this club, celebrity and golfers all walk up to the bar in the evening to share a drink and a chin wag as the TV plays in the corner of what reminds me of a British-style bar complete with green leather chairs and sofas.

The club has two bars, one on the balcony facing the golf course and the other one after the entrance. The one I entered is for slightly older generation and ply the fifty plus are seen here with huge chandeliers representing Elizabethan times. This bar has large chunky green leather seats and sofas too to host its guests.

One has to wear a collared shirt or t-shirt here all the time and I preferred to keep my jacket on. There is a dress code guys but the best thing was all these beautiful and successful women that sat in their little groups on the balcony chatting away and drinking to their hearts content. The banter and chatting did get loud as everyone started to get drunk by dinner time. There is a separate dining hall for dinner but you can order at the bar itself. I preferred the dining hall and just consumed my snacks at the bar. The bathroom and steam baths are well-maintained. There is even a gym fully operational for the members. It is luxurious with heritage and pedigree.

The balcony is the best place to be as one can wander around sipping a drink or even smoke at the corner. It’s great to eavesdrop into peoples conversations and overhear snippets from the neighbouring table. Women with black skirts or tight denim jeans smelling and looking their best with dark lipsticks and glittering eye-liners. Man, those nails were finely manicured just to tear out your flesh in heats of passion.

The food subsisted and Janak busted his lint of Rs. 50,000 as his father ranted from the other side of the phone. It took much explaining that we were enjoying ourselves for five straight days on the golf club binging on alcohol and non-vegetarian food.

The keema, the butter chicken and the prawns are a must-try. The mutton cutlets and bacon rolls should be tried for snails with a tall glass with gin and tonic. We polished off all this with a glass of brandy and cigars.

The alcohol gave the surroundings a flavour and a texture. It made the noises vivid and the light brighter. All in all, it was a very satisfying experience. Not to mention the single malt that I gulped away with soda and ice. Cheers to all!

By adminin others

A Walk around the Buddha Temple, Dehradun

January 16, 2017

Today was a lazy day for me but I was excited as there was an air of enthusiasm. I realised that I had to go out into the street to test my new Canon 5D Mark IV camera. I had just bought it a few days back along with a powerful zoom lens to boost for 3.57 lakhs with discounts included. It was now time for me to test my new baby and what better place to wander in Dehradun than the Buddha Temple.

The temple is situated near the ISBT bus terminal on the outskirts of the city. This was a sleepy and peaceful Tibetan heartland in the valleys with the huge temple bang in the middle. It reminded me of some of my excursions to Dharamsala.

The temple had a huge garden area with the grand stupas and wishing wells. A huge portrait of the Buddha stood tall at the apex of the building. Monkeys ran amok in the garden and looked like the army of Hanuman had raided the place. I took out my camera from the bag and began clicking one shot at a time.

I tried the zoom lens to get closer to my object and at times, took help from Bhartu, my helper, to get better angles of some of the shots. We meandered through the calm and quite stairways of the temple soaking in the peace and enjoying the cool breeze that hit us from time to time.

A few hours and I felt hungry again. We strolled down to a Tibetan cafe for a meal of soup and momo. I enjoyed every bit of the stuff but the chillies were a lot and I felt the need to sip a lot of water at the end. The evening was approaching us and it was time to head back home to see and admire the new photos I had taken. My home was a 30-minute tuk-tuk ride away where my grandmother eagerly awaited with tea and cookies to greet me.

By adminin others

Business Baba

January 10, 2017

My stay at the Baba Ramdev Ashram at Yog Gram revealed a lot to me about the business acumen, foresight and the vision of Baba Ramdev. In just over a decade, Baba has propelled Patanjali Yog and therapy into a household brand eating chunks from the market share of brands like Dabur, Himalaya, and even the mighty Unilever. He has taken away consumer durable business from these brands to his fold. He has raised his image in the eyes of the public and has become a champion of Ayurveda and alternative medicine. As a close friend of mine, Mirnal Mathur who worked as a director with Dabur puts it like this, “People go to him when they have lost all hope from traditional forms of medical care and treatments. Where allopathy failed, Baba steps in with his brand of Naturopathy.”

Herbal remedies coupled with natural treatments have worked wonders for Baba and have transformed people who come to him. His brand of yoga is very popular with the masses. He looks to heal the body, mind, and soul with his therapies. There is a sense of seva in everyone who works for the Baba and the staff is courteous yet strict.

Baba is not only an expert marketer but also a brilliant person with backward integration. His farms in Haridwar provide the needed diet for his patients. He breeds horses and cows in his backyard.

Products like milk and mattha come from these holy cows. The strict vegetarian diet also does wonders for the mind and body. The farms at Pokhri and the greenhouses provide the natural herbs and flowers that go into producing the various remedies.

The factories turn out these remedies and package them into products under the Patanjali Brands. The mollah then start raking in when the products are sold through branded company stores. Each of these stores houses a doctor to give advice and prescription.

He has the backward integration and supply chain all tied up under his umbrella. Baba’s swadeshi rhetoric coupled with davy media acumen helps with the promotion of the brand as he has become the face of the entire movement. An army of yoga prachaaraks promotes yoga at the local as well as the district level. Two huge ashrams, phase one and two have been built to cater to the growing demand of patients and seekers.

From mud batches to ozone therapies, blood tests to dental treatments, there is space for every sort of remedies as Baba is also taking on the traditional notion of a hospital and allopathy medicine. He is taking the market from the Apollo’s Medenta and Max type of hospitals. Even the old and young sow under the one-fold of yoga, bhakti, Desh Seva, and treatment.

Acharya Balkrishna is an allotted pillar of this revolution. He looks after the finances as Baba promotes the brand as its ambassador. Together, they have formed a great tag team that has propelled this juggernaut to great heights with cash registers also gangling.

All in all, success plays in their backyard. They also give results as they truly heal people. This is one of the major factors. Traditional advertising coupled with word of mouth and direct sales efforts have given rich results. All in all, he truly is The Business Baba.