'I write, so I can sleep well'

The summer of 2014 has been dedicated to traveling. I've visited big cities, small towns, road side villages, jungles and river beds. I've asked myself why I travel and travel alone mostly. Many friends can't fathom the urge to see things from my own perspective, to be on uncharted territories to live life beyond that which has been set as your horizon. Wherever I travel, it is always people that I am attracted to, more often than not people are generous, going out of their way at times to indulge a complete stranger. And in that perhaps you carry back the observations, minute little nuggests of wisdom that stay with you. It is perhaps also why I find a bit of me strewn into wherever I have traveled. And thus on many nights when I sit alone in a huge guest house from a British era or a tiny forest bungalow by the river bed, I'm prone to tracing myself across where I'm spread thin.

While traveling through Kurseong at a certain point, I stopped for some tea. While the tea was being made, I saw another woman sitting in front of a shop. She was sipping her own tea while arranging the fresh vegetables she had put on display on the shop window. My gardener instincts, led me to ask her whether she grew the vegetables herself. She seemed surprised and then happy at being asked, pointing at each vegetable she summarized how they were grown, why frost was a nuisance, how her dogs kept her company on the hills. She looked at me after a minute, as if as an afterthought and asked me what I did. I looked at her hands then, she reciprocated by looking at mine. I looked around me at the massive mountains, the terrific greens, at the little dogs playing around, at life so uncomplicated. What does one tell someone so rich in mundane happiness, what the writer does. The immensity of simplicity, on a road that bends on a tea cup, suddenly seemed over powering.

I told her then that I write. Why she asked and what. I remembered my friend Amandeep Sandhu saying, 'I write, so I can sleep well.' I wanted to tell her then that I write so I can keep your essence alive, I write so that I can find a word that describes the immensity of this freshness. I looked beyond and fell silent. She tugged at my jacket, gave me a piece of charcoal and showed me the wall of her house, 'likho kavita'

A boat ride with a Pakistani

On a trip outside the country, you meet different kinds of people from different countries..but most of all you meet Indians, from back home. On one such trip, we were in a boat. Several other tourists had also come along, amongst them three couples were from Delhi, a Russian couple, a rather large family from China, a small family of three that I couldn't identify apart from our own. Through the trip of of about an hour, the Delhiites screamed, broke every rule in the book, the Chinese talked nineteen to dozen, the Russians appeared offended about everything in general, while I watched everyone. Its strange how you can place people, their backgrounds, their likes, dislikes, their moods, a bit about their ethnicity, some bit about their nature if you observe them for a while. It was the small family which caught my attention the most, because I couldn't really slot them. Very Aryan looking, the wife in a demure Salwar Kameez, constantly smiling, shy yet seemingly fun, a very well behaved child & a seemingly caring husband. They broke no rules, had their fun and kept to themselves. They spoke in what sounded like a strange mix of Urdu..I wondered idly if they were Kashmiris. About 45 mins into the journey, the wife suddenly turned to me and asked, "Where are you from?" I identified myself as an Indian. She made a silent 'Oh' and pointed at the Delhi-ites and said, we knew they were Indian but got confused about you'll. I asked her in return, "From where are you?" She smiled and said, "From Pakistan". I said to myself, 'no wonder they look so familiar, like a long forgotten fragrance'..For a woman who had hardly spoken through the hour, her parting words made me smile. As she left the boat she said, "kabhi ayiyega, itne bhi alag nahin hain hum"( come visit us sometime, we aren't all that different)

( Image courtesy Google)