UPbeat

When I boasted about how much I enjoyed traveling, little did I guess that my fortunes would take it that seriously. Now there is hardly any time when I am not traveling, but this time mostly on work. As usual, there have been things I have wanted to share, experiences I have desired to narrate added with my own little spices. Unfortunately, the job does not give me enough time to do so. But this time with a firm intention to pen them down, I am writing this while in a half-empty Volvo bus to the city of Taj. Only rarely do you find roads in UP where you can dare to type while on move, NH2 from Delhi to Agra is one of them.

allahabad: khusru bagh

For the uninitiated, I have been traveling all around UP (Uttar Pradesh, for clarity to the small town people). From the town where the gorgeous Sadhana once dropped her jhumka, to the town where our Don went bonkers over the lovely pans, to the modern day wedding of our Tanu and Manu, the state is as dramatic and filmy as their own CM.

My tryst with this wonderland started six months back. The first journey itself gave me good previews of what was about to follow. I had boarded one of those incredible auto-rickshaws in Ghaziabad which may be already in the race for Guinness world records for carrying as many as 18-20 big passengers on the 3-tiny-wheeled-vehicle. Apparently this sumo carrier was coming from Muradnagar and had this encouraging line written on the side panels, “Sherni nashe se choor hai, kaun kehta hai Ghaziabad Muradnagar se door hai”. For friends that boast knowing Hindi, this would mean that while the tigress is drunk and out, who would say Ghaziabad is far from Muradnagar. Now I know that the first line has nothing to do with the second, but look at the creativity of the author (probably the driver himself!). There is certainly a patriotic feeling attached, to this line on bridging distances. Another thought that swept across my mind – when the tiger census declared that only 1411 tigers were left, what if they missed our drunk tigresses! PJ!

On a broken road to Aligarh, I was somewhere around Sikandrabad when I happened to read a milestone reading ‘Kutte ki kabar’ (Graveyard for dogs, if I were to force translate). Yes, that was the name of the village/town I was reaching. Imagine a resident of this proud place saying, “Hi, I live in kutte ki kabar”. Would you get goose-bumps or would you laugh out loud?

agra: man vs wild

Talking of animals, you are sure how much Hindus are devoted to their holy cows when you are in the birthplace of Krishna – Mathura. In the busy market-places of Mathura, you see more cows than vehicles. If in any other town you see a cow coming at you, you would probably jump off miles away. But in Mathura, humans have a deep understanding with their goddesses. Same situation, and you will see both the sides gently pass each other, but not without a caressing touch. There is this one particular shop in a very busy market, where I have been rubbed by the cows not once, but every time I have stood outside that shop. It was scary first, but friendly the times thereafter. 

Sometimes it can also get challenging when you are against them. The snap alongside was taken in the lanes of Agra when we were trying to pass through an opposing gush of buffalos. Now that is Man against Wild in action!

varanasi: what-it-is-for-foreigners

I happened to be in Varanasi right during its festive season – the Maha Shivratri. With some great hospitality by my co-workers, I munched heavy on their local cuisines including some mouth-watering, rich sweets (malai-poori, rajbhog etc.), super-rich rabri, coolest kullhar-wali lassi and one of the best thandai I have ever had. Khoya seems to be high in demand in this place and that is precisely the reason why milk is quite expensive in Varanasi, ask a local and you will be surprised.

varanasi: thandai

Varanasi lives in its narrow but colourful lanes. I realized this more when my hosts were taking me to some place best known for its thandai. We walked through lanes to reach a shop which looked nothing more than a big hole in the wall. The man-in-dhoti served thandai in tall kullhars (earthen tumblers) to the crowd standing outside and below. But we were not supposed to be served there. We climbed up that hole and I quietly followed my hosts passing through some men doing the dishes, and there came a small four-walled enclosure where some customers sat wall-to-wall. It all appeared as if we had entered a mafia hideout. Nobody took any orders but they were fast to bring a tray full of tall glasses of thandai that were kept in front of each of the guests. I was quick to ask if the drink was bhang-free. Yes, it was because the bhang was served separately as a wet-green lump which some people gulped down like a medicine and drank the thandai over it. If Germans have a beer-fest, our Banarasi babus’ thandai fest is no less.

varanasi: the shiv-parvati dance

On the evening of Shivratri there is a type of procession that happens as part of a local celebration. It is called ‘Shivji ki baraat’. As the name clearly suggests, it is dramatized to represent mythology, apparently. But to me it was hilarious to watch so-called-Shivji’s-guests in the procession. There were people dressed as ghosts, animals, jokers, witches and what not. In one instance, a eunuch sat on a cart as part of the procession. My hosts called her out to show me some moves, “arey, sahib ko thoda naach dikhaiye”. The eunuch was actually lightening fast to respond to their request. She got up instantaneously and started dancing. I was more embarrassed than anything at that moment. Then there were little kids who were dressed as goddesses or something, but were more interested in the kurkure packets they were holding. The best one was the last cart that carried a boy and a girl dressed as Shiv and Parvati, respectively on it. This Shiv appeared more fun-loving, naughty and full of life, than the blue one found seated on mountains. This Shiv danced modern with Parvati, almost like a Salman Khan doing a didi-tera-dewar-deewana with Madhuri. Only the song was little more interesting, and the lyrics were somewhat like this – “Oh Ganesh ki mummy, mujhko bhi bhang pilaade naa. Oh Ganesh ke daddy, mujhko tu aur sataiyyo naa.” (Oh Ganesha’s mom, prepare me some bhang. Oh Ganesha’s daddy, do not bother me more.)

varanasi: parenting both faces of life

UP is not about politics, corruptions, goons and crime. It is an amalgamation of cultures, of world-renowned architecture and craftsmanship, of unmatchable delicacies, of celebration of life. With a place like that, you know I have lots more to tell. So I will be back with more narrations from the place. Till then, stay UPbeat!


Take a look at some snaps if interested...
https://picasaweb.google.com/siddartha.sherpa/UPbeat?authkey=Gv1sRgCKGysvrk-Oes1QE&feat=directlink#