Thursday, October 27, 2016
The Fallen Flower
Saturday, September 10, 2016
Watchman Nicodin
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
The Woman
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Merry Mix Ups
Thursday, September 1, 2016
The Goat That Ate My Loaf
Thursday, June 23, 2016
Star of the Night
Out in the meadow she sat
Her gaze fixed upon
The Star of the Night.
Drenched in the moonlight
She sang, ' And do you hear
My song, Star of the Night?'
A drop of water touched her face
Gently wiping it with her lace
She said, " And do you remember me, Star of the Night? And do you see, as I see , and do you feel
As I feel, Star of the Night?'
'Come to my lodgings,
Star of the Night,' she said
'For the berries won't be sour anymore
And winter won't be cold anymore..
The heart is full, the head
A little hazy.'
'You could show me the light,
And I could give you love again,
Star of the Night.' And thus
She sang, bathed in the moon beam
Upon the meadow.
M.Neog
(Dew drops)
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Dzongri Trails
The Dzongri Goechla trek in Sikkim is revered by adventure buffs and it is regarded as one of the six toughest treks in the Indian Himalayas. The trek begins from the small and beautiful village of Yuksom in West Sikkim and takes one right up to the feet of Mt Kanchenjunga .
The rewards of the trek overshadowed self doubt; I knew this was going to be a tougher one than the previous . I had trained for it but did not get sufficient time for recovery, the ice packs took care of the sore muscles.
So, my husband and I set off on the Dzongri trail , for a few days close to heaven. We decided to complete the 5-6 days trek in 4 days. Judging by the Singalila trek which we finished in 3 days , cutting short 2 night halts; we thought it was achievable in Dzongri too.
We reached Yuksom late in the night of 31st May 2016 and checked into a hotel. After a shower and dinner, we crashed out for the night. The next morning, we woke up to a brilliant view of Mt Kabru from our balcony; the whitest of white amidst deep green mountains.
Soon we met our crew; two guides, two porters, three yaks . We also met two trek mates , Malte Lautzas from Germany and Kelly Alves from Brazil. We were driven a km from Yuksom, the starting point of the trek.
The yaks and porters moved ahead with the kitchen and bedding equipment while we trailed behind slowly. Nothing would be available beyond Yuksom and so everything had to be carried up . From what it seemed right from the start, this was going to be a memorable experience and certainly not an easy trek.
About 6 kms from Yuksom , is a place called Sachen . We stopped to refuel here, we were carrying packed lunch. A little chat with our trek mates revealed that the lady had undergone a knee surgery and had undertaken the Annapurna circuit in Nepal after that. Also, a week prior to the current trek in Dzongri , she had completed the Singalila trek. What an indomitable spirit! I thought.
From Sachen, the trail was a real test of endurance, very steep and rough. One had to be wary of loose stones over which the feet skidded, falling boulders from above and the prevalence of bears and leopards, though we were told that the predators rarely made an appearance! Of course one had to be careful of the blood sucking leeches and tiny stinging insects got to you the moment you stopped walking.
As we continued to ascend from Sachen, it became progressively steeper and the climb seemed endless. At every bend, there was a steeper climb awaiting us. We had to cover 15 km on the first day itself. And here, I would like to tell you that a km in the hills is like 3 km in the plains in terms of endurance.
While going through Kanchenjunga National park , my attention was drawn to a stream gushing over the rocks below. This is when I missed a step and my right knee hit a boulder, it wasn't too bad I thought, and I gathered myself for a sharp ascent through picture perfect hills with emerald green waterfalls and rich alpine vegetation, toad stools on moss covered rocks and tree trunks, ferns and wild berries . The pine trees kept thinning out and made way for the myriad hues of rhododendrons and primula . The sound of a flowing stream or the chirping of different species of birds, soothed the weary travelers.
Often, we made way for the oncoming traffic of ponies, flocks of sheep and yaks moving up the narrow trail. Many say that the fear of the unknown can be unnerving but some feel the protection of the powers, those who crawl into nature's lap and don't try to conquer it. We continued our climb slowly with snicker and water breaks for a further 6-7 kms to Bakhim which offered an exquisite view of the valley below. A much deserved tea break with my comfort food of Wai Wai noodles worked well to recharge the batteries since the next 2 kms to Tsokha were going to be tougher. I found a canine friend here, she decided to accompany me along the way right up to Tsokha, halting or moving with me. Animals are capable of showing great compassion, she could sense my fatigue. Villagers or porters on the way, exchanged cheerful greetings and encouraged us to keep going slowly and steadily, " Bistari bistari jaunu la." The hills people have unparalleled endurance and I've seen that for years now. Whether they're young boys skipping more than 20 kms downhill in less than 2 hours or old men and women climbing up with heavy loads on their backs, they're an inspiring people.
By this time, I felt that I had released my body with all it's aches and pains somewhere down the trail and was only being guided by my mind and a deep consciousness that drew me towards my inner self, made me see who I really am. It was a beautiful feeling.
We made it to Tsokha ( 10000 feet) around 4:30 pm, with our friends, Malte and Kelly waiting to greet us at the Trekker's hut.They looked excited and as we came up to the hut, we just saw the most amazing view of Mt Pandim and Mt Tensinkhang standing tall, right in front of us ! It seemed so magical to watch the passing clouds unveil the snow clad peaks for us. I slumped down to the wooden stairs of the hut , stunned by the jaw dropping beauty of the Himalayas. All the fatigue dissipated with the reward on the first day. Crystal white mountains overlooking the green meadows of Tsokha with the twin stupas sitting in the heart of the green.
We sat around a kitchen fire in the neighbouring hut while the crew cooked a hot meal for us in a makeshift kitchen. A basic vegetarian meal , mostly boiled or steamed, some hot soup and an animated conversation with our trek mates over a simple candle lit
dinner served on a wooden table with checked table cloth; attention to detail , I thought. Since the region does not have electricity, the headlamps helped for the nocturnal movements. The rooms were plain wooden cabins with bare beds where the guides put out thin mattresses and the sleeping bags. The bare walls with a few hooks served well to air out the clothing.
The next morning, we had some tea and breakfast comprising boiled eggs, bananas, the dependable bread and jam, cereal and boiled potatoes. A portion of the same menu sufficed as packed lunch. I stood outside the hut soaking in the surroundings with ponies and yaks grazing in the meadowlands and a comforting sound emanating from the bells tied around the yaks , filling the valley with it's own music.
We started for Dzongri from Tsokha, a steep 5 km to Phedang would be our lunch halt. At a small wooden structure in Phedang , we met other trekkers making their way down to Tsokha. They asked us to brace ourselves for the climb thereafter, just when I thought it couldn't get any steeper. The views were breathtaking. Some parts of the trail were out of a children's classic. This is what I came for and no pain could take away the sights that greeted us. The stretch from Phedang to Deorali can take the steam out of the fittest. They say that the mountains have a way of dealing with overconfidence. Human pride begins to move it's lips in prayer.
From thick alpine vegetation, we had now come to rocky terrain with small flowering shrubs, mosses and lichens in pretty hues of pink, violet and white. The air smelt different, it was getting thinner. At Deorali , we rested for a couple of minutes near a stupa with prayer flags lining the clearing. I stared into the tunnel of mist that would lead to Dzongri. From here on the climb was a gradual ascent with some undulating parts.
A further 3 km took us to Dzongri base camp. We found Malte and Kelly seated on a thin wooden bench outside the cottage. Interesting graffiti on the walls created some light moments for us. The chowkidar and his family are the only human inhabitants at Dzongri. We sat around his kitchen fire chatting up . I noticed a large Trogopan perched on the top of the hill, I recognized it from it's distinct call . Everyone rushed out to get a glimpse of the rare , endangered Himalayan bird. The next day's trail was the hardest and we retired after a sumptuous meal. We had to start our ascent at 3:30 am to view the sunrise over the Himalayas. Sleep eluded me again.
It was a 200 mtr ascent covered in 1 km of really hard trail with almost 20% incline. I had to take two trekking poles to tackle the gradient. As I braved it to the top, I found myself caught between the moon on one side and the rising sun on the other side. Finally, I made it to the top, privy to the splendor and majesty of the Himalayas. I had earned my way to it . The rising sun shone upon the peaks, gifting mankind the rarest view . Only those who seek, shall find it. The changing hues of the snow clad peaks from an icy blue to golden and pinkish white can render the greatest bard speechless..
I stood in reverence and humility before the might of nature. It was the closest view I had of Mt Kabru, North & South, Black Kabru, Mt Kanchenjunga, Rathong peak, Mt Pandim , Mt Tensinkhang and Narsing . The mind was silent, offering gratitude for the good fortune; the peaks were hidden until a few days before we arrived. It had rained prior to our trek. However, the weather held up since the day we started our trek. Sitting at 13800 feet in the high mountains, I had come a long way for this moment. All I wanted was a walk in the clouds but I received a blessing..
The stupas and prayer flags lining the ridge add to the serenity of the Himalayas. For the first time , I could hear the stillness. It is so sacred that one does not even want to desecrate the purity of that heaven with one's voice..
Below, in the valley, the nomads settle during the summer. The pass was also used by the three lamas who came in to annoint the first Chogyal of Sikkim in the 17th century. The route was used by Tibetan migrants. There I was, an urban nomad , in search of the Shangri la. A veteran mountaineer once said that the answer to why we trek can be found somewhere between the bottom and the summit of the trek. Every such journey makes new revelations to the traveler.
After luring man to it's beauty, the elements start playing games. Camera and phone batteries, power banks, die out in the cold and only a lucky few could capture the moments. Though reluctant, it was time to descend from the top. The winds were getting stronger and the air was rarified. We came down for breakfast and shortly after that, began our journey back to Tsokha. The knee injury from the first day was going to trouble me in the descent and I had to pull through it without bending the right knee. I had to bank on pain killers and a lot of courage. We made it to Tsokha in good time and got some rest before dinner.
The next day's trail would be punishing, 15 km of mostly sharp descent. I had to be careful in not causing further injury to an already inflamed knee. Every wrong step felt like a dagger driven into it.
I transferred the entire load of my body onto the left leg and thanks to the little training I had undergone, it bore the brunt of the descent pretty well.
In the hills, distance is not measured in kms but the number of hills leading to a destination. So, we must have lost count of how many we crossed. We reached Sachen around 2pm and after a quick lunch, resumed the remaining few kms to Yuksom. We had more than 6 kms to finish before sunset. Our guide, Nambun, an 18 yr old lad, was extremely efficient and good natured. Finally, with a deep sense of caring, he said, " Ma'am, this is the last of the steepest gradients. The rest of the way is plainer. " He had seen me fight the pain. We reached Yuksom at 4 pm and walked another km or so to get to the hotel. An hour after that, the rains came down heavily , like a farewell shower. 42 km in 4 days, 1780 mts to 4200 mts and back, the trek had been completed despite the odds- a hurt knee ,sleep deprivation and dehydration. Yet, victory tasted sweet. The body felt stronger than ever, probably because I had conquered pain and come back to the world , with a piece of Heaven within me..my own Shangri la .
Thursday, May 26, 2016
A Story of Survival
I grew up in the plantations and my early childhood was spent in the estates in Assam. It was the late 70s, the beginning of turmoil.
The streets were patrolled by the army, one saw more soldiers than locals. Curfews, protests and shoot at sight orders gushed into the peaceful stream of daily life .
I was two and a half years when my father was posted in an estate near Tezpur, Assam. Once, I was gripped by a terrible fever, no amount of medication could control the raging fire within my infant frame. My father rushed to the bungalow to find my mother in tears and a confused physician who couldn't diagnose my condition. Then the convulsions began and the body was getting contorted.
They couldn't waste time, the estate was not equipped to handle such a case. They had friends in the Air force fighter base in Tezpur and their only hope was the Army hospital, an hour's drive from the estate. They had to take me there and in as less time as possible since every second of my life then was God's will. I battled my journey to the hospital as my dad drove us in his fiat ..hoping fervently that I last through that drive and also hoping that he didn't encounter any road blockades or verifications by the patrolling troops that would delay us even more.
As the car reached the Air force base, the sentry at the gates had one look inside the car and signalled for the gates to open without registering the vehicle. I was taken to the M.I room and was administered injections to control the convulsions. My parents' friends in the Air force informed the A.O.C who was at a party to obtain permission for access to the Army hospital. A few phone calls were made and in no time I was being treated by the doctors of the Army Medical corps in Tezpur. I was diagnosed with encephalitis. The fever was brought down with ice cold compression in the joints. However, the biggest challenge lay ahead of them. The fluid flooding my infant brain had to be drained out.
It took seventeen, yes seventeen lumbar punctures. My mother recounted that those were the most punishing hours of her life as she stood at the corridor listening to the heart wrenching screams of her infant daughter. While I remained in the hospital for ten days, my mother stayed in the cantt.itself. My father drove down the distance everyday to the hospital from the estate until his superior gave him permission of leave.
Driving through roads with burning tyres or a soldier pressing the nozzle of his rifle onto my father's face while making enquiries, were common place and my father braved such conditions to meet us for days. He had loosened the hinges of the door on his side and tied the handle with a rope so that he could break out of the car in case of a fire .
My recovery took a long time and I had to battle the side effects of the treatments that followed. At one stage I had become hyper kinetic and once that was controlled , I became slow in my reflexes. My immune system suffered a great deal and I had a poor appetite. Compared to my peers, I was a weaker child. It took many years for me to regain my health and I struggled through most of my years right up to middle school.
It didn't stop me from enjoying my childhood though; I had a wonderful family and great friends to support me. Although each day was a struggle to overcome limitations and move with the flow of life , I kept going, slowly, at my own pace. Somewhere along the way, I discovered my resilience. Then , the poison changed to medicine.
I realized that I was sent back to fight it out because death took pity on me and life gave me another chance. Each of us have a purpose in life and I'm not leaving until mine is fulfilled..
I believe I have come a long way since then and my past had made me stronger. I have trained hard, very hard..and put in all my sweat, tears and blood into becoming the fitness enthusiast I am today. I love high altitude trekking and have just completed one of the most difficult Himalayan treks in Sikkim in less than the usual duration. I have been drawn to adventure sports, para sailing, zip lining and deep sea walking being a few I've undertaken.
To get stronger with time is a promise I made to myself. Each day gives me that opportunity. I've returned from the jaws of death to celebrate victory and for me, the road doesn't end here.
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
When She's Gone
To her dearest,
A story she tells..
Today they see the dawn
Tomorrow she may be gone.
Remember then, it was,
A dream that had to pause..
Funny, they thought it'd last
While time was running out fast.
A little different from the rest,
You knew what she liked the best.
Gold and diamonds were too loud,
All she wanted was a walk in the clouds..
Moments that were crazy..
Memories that get hazy.
Adventures to cherish,
A love that can't perish.
Her love is with you always
For the rest of the days.
As she's by your side..
Still admiring you with pride.
Moments of pain,
Get washed with the rain,
She knew she had to leave
Yet who could believe?
Wonder if you could hear
The screams beating the walls
Within her tiny chest..
When you had her so near.
She knew it all along,
And the world thought she was strong..
Through laughter, ecstasy and adventure..
She could see the future.
A crazy girl with dreams,
Flowing in the streams,
Floating with the clouds,
When they remove the shroud.
Find her beside you,
In things that gave her joy.
She lived a great life,
She was a good wife.
She was and will be,
Forever the queen..
Of her own space,
It was in her face.
Respect her love,
As she watches over from above
Her love will protect you..
Across the dimensions of the blue.
M. Neog
( Dew drops )
Thursday, April 21, 2016
A 'Septi' Pin Saga
The ubiquitous 'septi' pin, (written the way it is prounounced) in most Bengali households, found an indispensable position in the lives of middle class families and my grandparents' home, wasn't an exception.
These simple septi pins made inroads into our everyday lives. You could find a bunch of shining septi pins sitting conspicuously within a small bowl or tray on the dressing table or lazing around carelessly, on study tables and glass or wooden shelves in the restroom.
They found a place of pride along with the creams , hair clips, bangles and intricate vermilion holders; ones that seemed popular were holders with the carvings of ' Lokkhi thakur' ( Goddess Lakshmi), the fish or the elephant's head, each considered to be auspicious in our culture.
Then of course, you could find some septi pins enclosed in a tiny container and kept in the ' Thakur ghar' . These were kept aside for our ' Laddu Gopal's (infant Krishna) wardrobe.
What amused me was the versatility of the septi pins that ranged from miniature to finger length sizes. You could depend on these shining minions of steel for multiple activities , from fixing diapers to wardrobe malfunctions!
You could have a neighbor dropping in for tea and while he engaged in an animated discussion on Marxism or his appreciation for Bossa Nova , the eyes would invariably be drawn to his sling bag held together by a pair of septi pins.
The average Bengali woman's obsession for starched cotton sarees that were pleated to perfection, lent the septi pin even more reason for reliable companionship. They dangled from gold bangles for ready use. ' Ay ! Amar septi pin gulo ke niyechhe ? ' (Hey! Who took my safety pins?)was a question heard too often.
Some septi pins however, outlived their use , lying rusty and bent in less visible corners , but never discarded and while they were strewn with intentional carelessness, they waited; just in case they could be used for a rainy day!
Then, it was used by young creative minds in the household, looped together as neck chains or danglers for the ears. Simple and effective! There was no shame in using septi pins , they were essential to routine everyday life.
Such was the thought association with septi pins, that a house bereft of these seemed alien. Whoever invented the safety pin , couldn't have possibly imagined that it would weave itself into our cultural fabric.
Septi pins are still found in our homes , perhaps not used as frequently as before but I can say with conviction that they're far from being redundant yet. They've seen generations go by and they've served their purpose most effectively. They can still be found on dressing tables, alongside imported perfumes and sunglasses now..
Monday, April 11, 2016
The Devil
The devil awaits you
In the rising tides of vanity.
Sleep with open eyes
In your satin and silken couch.
The devil bathes you
In the slippery suds of insanity.
Do not tread
On reeds of humanity.
The devil nourishes you
In cold corridors of corruption.
Build not your castle
On curses and corpses.
The devil invites you
Into his sack of sloth.
Remind yourself
Of promises you made.
The devil urges you
To show affection to avarice.
But do not steal
A poor man's meal.
The devil guides you
To be a sauntering saprophyte.
Give credit to yourself
For not being a parasite.
The devil tempts you
With the incinerating inks of power.
Be kind to seek
Justice for the weak.
The devil tricks you
In hallowed halls of pride.
Look at the mirror
Of truth and reason.
The devil seduces you
With bright, beguiling lights.
Don't be fooled
With myopic treats.
The devil tosses you
On the wild waves of wrath.
Guide gently then
With wisdom and peace.
The devil draws you
Towards bloody brutality.
Take a long sip
From the cup of compassion.
The devil drags you
To treason and tyranny.
Do not quench your thirst
With mankind's blood.
Then the devil disappears
As judgement day arrives.
A plate full of karma and solitude
Is all that you have.
M.Neog
( Dew drops)
Saturday, April 9, 2016
Child of the Mountains
Throbbing heart and trembling legs,
Soul stretching out again,
A rendezvous it begs,
So I rise, I ascend again.
For I know you rest at Eagle Peak,
And it is I who must come to seek,
Something tells me I know the way,
A blessed union in snow and rain.
So I rise, I ascend again.
Pounding heart and aching feet,
Face exposed to sleet,
Man and frost meet.
Then you send the mist my way,
So I rise, I ascend again.
Winds cutting through, air now thinner,
Heart pounding, legs trembling,
But you taught me to be a winner.
So I rise, I ascend again.
Fuzzy mind playing hopscotch,
With bursts of euphoria and melancholy,
Fighting back, breathing hard..
So I rise, I ascend again.
Lumbering through the countless bends,
Paths slushy and rugged,
Your presence in the magnolia blossoms,
Makes this trail blessed.
So I rise, I ascend again.
Lips blue, fingers stiff,
Throbbing heart and trembling legs,
I stop to ask, what if..
Yet the soul outstretched, begs
So I rise, I ascend again.
In loops and excruciating gradients, I find
Unabashed streams bathing ferns
Racing down a moss covered hill side.
So I rise, I ascend again.
A tragopan's song greets,
The frost trodden mountain feet
And my arrival to the summit.
Pain ceased, soul quenched,
With healing mountain mist.
So I kiss your feet,
And bring you love
From where you once belonged.
Days and nights I have longed,
For a union in the clouds above.
It may be long till I come again,
Heart pounding, legs trembling,
To meet you at Eagle Peak.
O mother of mothers ! I am but
A child of the mountains ..
So I shall rise, I shall ascend again.
M.Neog
( Dew drops)
I Am..
A tiny speck,
In your vastness..
A small spark,
In your myriad folds..
A conscious dream,
In your spectrum..
A shining droplet,
In your oceans..
A sharp gravel,
In your mighty mountains..
A drop of dew,
In your morning freshness..
A living atom,
In your unbiased embrace..
Finding refuge,
In your timelessness.
M.Neog
(Dew drops)
My City Bleeds
A hope filled sunrise
Bleeding city in a while
Steely nerves succumb to steel
All mangled, man and steel
Today my city bleeds.
Words of comfort, wads of cash
Heart rending cries
Neither can restore lost lives..
Darkness, pain and apathy
Gifts of corrupt policy
Today my city bleeds..
Lying helpless and pulverized
In an end, most undignified..
Hope, the only weapon
For the still breathing souls..
While the world sleeps,
Tonight, my city bleeds..
M.Neog
(Dew drops)
A Different Story
Did it cross your mind
Cross your mind ever
How that smirk felt
To someone very special
Someone different from you?
Did you ever care
To feel someone's joy
Or stop for a second
To feel that pain
Before you judged or condemned?
Did you ever listen to a whisper
Escaping twitching lips?
Someone different from you
In 'your' world
Has a story different from yours..
Of challenges and victories
In varying degrees..
Join the miniscule dots around you
To frame a soul
Until you feel the force..
The force of love
And then you will find
There was just one story
Read differently..
M. Neog
( Dew drops)