Detective Byomkesh Bakshy - A Hilsa curry that used Pomfret

The detective template & early avatars of Byomkesh

Nearly fifty years after Arthur Conan Doyle penned the most replicated detective character template in Sherlock Holmes & Watson...the Bengali writer Sharadindu Bandopadhyay created Byomkesh Bakshy and Ajit in the milieu of Calcutta. Now Byomkesh in Saradindu babus short stories never addressed himself as detective. He preferred the term “Satyanweshi” or the truth seeker instead.  The same template was picked up by Satyajit Ray a few decades later in 1965 to fashion his Feluda , Topshe & Jatayu and detective fiction flourished in India with Byomkesh & Feluda leading the pack of popularity.

Feluda’s world was cleaner, what with Ray also being a film-maker. Maybe he thought in a cinematic perspective first and then the writing emerged, fashioning itself around that vision... on the other hand Saradindu babu was a sharp penman who had no such compunctions about the environment in which his detective resided...His pre-independence Calcutta is sordid, dark and has a seedy underbelly much like Conan Doyle’s London. This is the world that Dibakar Bannerjee successfully recreates...in bold colours and with superb detailing.

The interesting coincidence is that the first time the Satyenweshi breathed on screen was under the baton of Satyajit Ray the creator of Feluda, with Uttam Kumar as Byomkesh & Shailen Mukherjee playing Ajit in “Chiriyakhana”, the year 1967. Many other movies followed till Basu Chatterjee in 1993 & 1997 across two seasons adapted each of his 32 short novellas into a TV series with Rajat Kapur as Byomkesh & K K Raina as Ajit. Outside of Bengal,  this is the most enduring image of the detective.

Detective Byomkesh Bakshy – The Movie

Detective fiction readers are known to have short attention spans. Bandopadhyay with Byomkesh, wrote only short stories or novellas. For cinema then it becomes doubly imperative that the screenplay over the 120 plus minute period holds the audience enthralled throughout.

Bannerjee, here does something very interesting. He takes three separate stories from the author’s collection and picks the primary characters from them. Then he weaves all of them seamlessly into one plot while keeping the original flavour of the stories intact. This is the best part of the movie, it's screenplay by Dibakar Bannerjee & Urmi Juvekar. 

Ajit engages a fresh out of college Byomkesh to locate his father Bhuven babu and the story takes off, taking us along with the protagonists on a joy ride that is truly mysterious...wheels spin within wheels and the knotty situations don’t unravel easily...and this is the beauty of the screenplay, it keeps the viewer totally engaged. Byomkesh finds obstacles, love and adventure in his resolution of the larger plot that emerges out of the simple missing person case.

The music by Sneha Khanvalkar is psychedelic and adds a different dimension to the spectacularly bold visuals on screen. The 1940’s Calcutta recreated is simply superb...with attention to even minor detailing like film posters on walls. The support character cast of Anand Tiwari as Ajit, Swastika Mukherjee as the sensuous siren Anguri Devi, Meiyang Chang as Kanai Dao, Aryan Bhowmick as the dispensary boy  and Neeraj Kabi as Dr Anukool Guha are first rate and rise above their characters.They are the ones that lift the plot into another zone...the newcomer Divya Menon as Satyaboti wades through and manages to hang in there bravely, doing nothing much but look pretty.

There are several quirks and physical traits of Byomkesh Bakshi as sketched by  Saradindu  babu that have fit and been picked up by the varied actors who have played him earlier in the past ...right from Uttam Kumar, Sattindra Bhattacharya, Subhrajit Dutta to Rajat Kapur...they lived the role. 

No one but a Bengali director could have directed Byomkesh was a given, because the spirit of the ethos unless authentic would certainly have destroyed the fabric in Bandopadhyay’s tapestry. Here Dibakar Bannerjee is on the ball. Has Sushant Singh Rajput done a good job? If there existed no past comparative memory then, yes he is OK...But having read Bandopadhyay and seen earlier performances, now if asked again does Sushant  make a good Byomkesh...definitely no.

Dibakar attempted to cook up an Illish Maach ( Hilsa fish) curry , the spices are correctly ground and mixed and the curry looks and smells right...but when he was to drop the piece de resistance, the fish into the curry,  Aditya Chopra handed him a “Pomfret” instead of an Ilish.  At that very moment what may have been a possibly perfect dish went for a toss.  Someone may very well ask, so what is wrong with a Pomfret? Well...nothing, except that it is not an Ilish and hence quite simply doesn't cut the mustard .

Movie Review : Ugly ... so ugly that it is brilliant !

Viewers or Voyeurs?

Some times, just some times, one goes into a cinema hall expecting nothing and comes out with a screen experience so stark and real, it leaves one totally gob smacked. ‘Ugly’ is one such experience where the viewer is turned into a voyeur.
This is on account of the events taking place in front of his eyes are so bare one doesn't feel one is watching a movie. You the viewer are the invisible participant that sees all of the ugly slice of life unfolding before your very eyes.

If one asks me what has been Ram Gopal Verma’s biggest contribution to cinema, unhesitatingly I would state that it is his ‘Factory’ that makes those entire mercurial and eclectic films. It is from here that Hindi cinema has been introduced to talented actors, writers, cinematographers and directors. Anurag Kashyap is one such find that came from the Factory and made his mark with his unique brand of cinema.

Worlds of Cinema

In Ugly we get into Anurag Kashyap’s world. If you notice there are different worlds in Hindi cinema, there is a Yash Raj World that has daffodils, Switzerland, love, good songs and more over it is beautiful and no one is poor. It is a trip to a five star hotel’s restaurant, where the cuisine could be anything but the ambiance rules paramount. This world has been extended into two stylized worlds, one owned by Dharma Productions or Karan Johar’s world that is young, candy flossed to the extreme; there are extra terrestrial colleges the kind one may never have encountered on earth. Moving in it is like a visit to a franchised outlet on the lines of a McDonalds or KFC...everything looks & tastes the same the only variation in the equation is the shape of the restaurant, which could be different. The other stylized extreme to it is owned by the Bhatt brothers of Vishesh films. Locations are hip, clothes are chic, there is tight young flesh on display and wonderful music to back it up, the plots are real exposing the underbelly but without getting the hands all dirty. People may die at inopportune moments in this world and there is weakness of character generally that flashes about predominantly. This is Mahesh Bhatt’s world. It is like visiting a multi-cuisine, Grade –A restaurant where the ambiance is clean and all dishes served are either orange or green. His nephew Vikram Bhatt is stylizing a world left vacant by the Ramsay Brothers and Mohan Bhakri’s . Vidhu Vinod Chopra was the king of soft focus romances till he stopped making films and handed over the baton to his two assistants Raju Hirani and Sanjay Leela Bhansali. Raju Hirani and Abhijat Joshi made a world akin to Aesop, meaningful yet funny and having a moral. It is a community kitchen like MTR, where the focus is on wholesome food of superior quality served in a middle class neighbourhood.

 A visit to Bhansali’s world is still being figured out by Bhansali, no one else can understand it and comprehension is a far cry. RGV crashed into this party with his own take and pushed the envelope in a different direction. His cinema was technically superior, dark had blood and gore and his speed of making films was mind boggling. Quantity replaced quality and for every four times one takes a trip into this world you get a good ride only once, but that one ride shall be spectacular making one forget the sheer ordinariness of the previous three. RGV was the Pizza Express all offerings reach you within half an hour, excellently packed and only once ina while you make the right call with the toppings...

Anurag’s world is a visit to the back of the by-lanes kebabwallah’s where the neighbourhood is filthy but the kebab’s are skewered fresh from the mince rolled right in front of your eyes. The process is Ugly but the result is always delicious, his cussedness lies in making us a part of his process, if you can withstand that then you shall enjoy the ride. It’s not for the faint of heart, this world.

Ugly : A Movie or Reality...go figure

Ugly lay’s it all out there. Human weaknesses, Corruption, Crimes of the depraved and petty mind & power games in a plot so intricate that if you miss a scene you shall miss the momentum of the bus that is hurtling to an end at breakneck speed right from the moment you boarded it. 

A ten year old is kidnapped and the plot touches upon one of the worst crimes in the roster child trafficking. From this event begins the game of search and whodunit. Every single person in the frame is Ugly...the soul less eyes of the lady trafficker as she blows a plume of bidi smoke and denies everything while being interrogated by the cops, to the starring characters of Inspector Shoumik Bose ( Ronit Roy, outstanding ), His wife Shalini played brilliantly by Tejaswini Kolhapure, Rahul Bhatt  as the out of work actor Rahul Kapoor& Vineet Kumar as his casting agent, part time producer of B-grade films(By far the most stand out performance in the film), Girish Kulkarni as Inspector Jadhav ( effortless, like he was in the Marathi film Deool) and a support cast of excellent actors like Ajay Purkar, Jayant Gadekar, Madhavi Singh  and the late Abir Goswami. All are ugly.

The technical cast and crew has supported the film brilliantly but at the end of it all it is the director who stands tallest in making a movie with as much honesty and not taking the viewer for granted even once in this amazing and horrifying tale, Anurag Kashyap. It is difficult to stand up to one’s own work at times and after Gangs of Wasseypur one wondered what would come next whether it would enthral and disturb equally.  With Ugly, you have gone that extra mile, take a bow, its well deserved. This movie is a must watch for all those who like real cinema, going to the movies shall never be the same experience after this.

The Ladakh Diary : Unforgettable , Beautiful & Unpredictable Paradise - Part 1/4

# A picture is worth a thousand words goes the cliche, we clicked 2500+. Now even if we do ditch 90% of them, we are still  left with 250 and that would be like going through a quarter of a million words. So if I describe the experience in a few thousand words and a few photos to accompany the write up,  would it still be considered an effort in precis writing ? Go figure. 

Holiday Destinations

There are holiday destinations & holiday destinations and then there is the Kingdom of Ladakh. Nothing that anybody tells you beforehand about it can ever prepare you for the actual experience. Believe me, we had serious information overload.

I do have a penchant for making absurd comparisons. Let us for one moment imagine that all holiday destinations in India are women. How can one describe the popular destinations like say a Goa, Mahabaleshwar, Kulu-Manali, Munnar, Ooty etc? They are that young woman, absolutely pretty; having a cheerful grin who welcomes you with warmth makes you comfortable in her company. One that you enjoy so much that eventually you take her to mom and tell her she’s it, the long sought bahu, give your blessings. These are the brides.

Ladakh, on the other hand is the wild, beautiful, sultry lover, with a cool smile that instantly turns you on, whose bedroom eyes promise exciting times. With her one shivers in anticipation on when would she scratch or bite, knowing fully well that she definitely would, in whose embrace, the rest of the world is forgotten, blip....What about mom?

Well... Who’s Mom... What about her?  In the company of such a woman, you would find yourself swearing that yours was an immaculate conception or you were dropped by a stork & you never ever had a mom. Ladakh is that lover, Moms n lovers don’t jell ...naahhhh, nevaahhh. 

Most destinations are tame, this is anything but that.

The Kingdom of Ladakh is India’s connection with the roof of the world, Tibet. It is a landmass with many unique features those that can very well be counted among the natural wonders of the world. Divided into two districts Kargil and Leh, this kingdom has the harshest climatic conditions found in all of India. It has some of the highest motor able roads in the world, in fact the first three Khardung La (18380 ft), Tanglang La & Chang La (17668 ft) passes are right here.  For five winter months of the year the Drass sector in Kargil district reports temperatures in the range of -50deg C which is the second coldest inhabited area on mother earth. A mere 2 degrees C temperature saw our urban group from Mumbai, Pune, Nasik, Thane, Bhopal and Hyderabad being reduced to kulfi...and as the wind chill brought it further down we found ourselves huddling inside the most clothes ever worn by us at a single time in our lives.

The biting cold here gave purpose and meaning to even those T shirts and shirts which had been lying in the cupboards unworn for years...the very objective towards which some machine somewhere had spewed them out was being fulfilled here. Clothing is important, layered clothing is the norm. If I were to take a poll on which of the three Bollywood leading men (The Khan trio) could be popular here, Shahrukh and Aamir would win hands down. Salman in his films habitually makes a shirtless statement and going shirtless is the constituent of a horror story in Ladakh. 

Story? Is it a story? Is it an account? Is it a memoir? Could it be a film? What’s so special about a trip like this that has even me confounded for words? Read on Ye, all those who have entered here and cared to tolerate this babble so far. They called it a leisure tour but it turned out to be a rip roaring adventure, the kind we simply had not bargained for. 

Someday in March 2014, Somewhere near a tollnaka in Mumbai, Mulund (E) 

The missus , her esteemed highness, the right honourable Lady Gauri makes a proclamation, “We are going to Leh- Ladakh on 15^th of August for 12 days and you have been booked too. Did you hear me?” I had not.

I was recovering from a river safari trip of 4 days to the Sunderban natural park, West Bengal. I had been there with a group of birdwatchers.  Yeah there is a species of homo-sapiens that prowl the earth with high tech equipment, binoculars, cameras, telephotos and sundry other stuff to watch birds of the feathered kind. Whatever happened to the more interesting sport of using your eyes on a more interesting bird type; one that wears pencil skirts, churidars, tight denims and sari’s? My tastes as you may have realized are more avuncular & discerning, my birds are not found flying around trees, friends. I was still floating in that hangover hence this announcement did not sink in properly.

“Re-arrange your work schedule and should you refuse then be assured - Your Bum Is TOAST”. It sank in and how. Wow, the intent seemed quite solid and the repercussions did not augur well for the adipose tissue resting in my denims, therefore I dutifully mustered delight on my face knowing nothing about what lay in store ahead.

After this, I promptly forgot about it in the interim six months until August arrived. On 1^st Aug 2014, I was prodded again; we are now 15 days away from our holiday. Hurried essential shopping later, packing for a trip is a process that is taken very seriously. The lady is careful, precise and orderly while my style is well more brisk and quick. She neatly gathers her stuff around, decides what has to go in and where...mine is more like, find stuff, decide the take-along stuff, and then me stuffs the stuff. It is a personal conviction that even my style has merit, but alas, never found the lady quite amenable to it; in our together trips she subtly always manages to get her way. Thank heavens for that (Would never admit to her, but I guess she already knows it).

The 15^th August found me seated in the morning flight, gobbling Upma with absolute relish. A very composed soul mate sat beside me looking outside the window as we flew into Srinagar. Until this point in the narrative we were the sole stars, the absolute lead pair of our film, not having met anyone from the tour organizers or participants so far.  

Srinagar 15^th-16^th August 2014

Walking outside the airport with our baggage we looked out for the placard of our tour operator ‘Trekmates India’ only to find one squiggly scrawl stating ‘Mumbai travellers with Trekmates India’ held on by a stern looking young man. Asking them and assuring ourselves that they were the ones we said, Okay...here we are. The stars (Us! what’s so surprising, my thought process always remains totally filmy) had finally reached the set. 

We were asked to wait and silently we did while the others were searched, assembled and sorted out to be carted to wherever we were to go. Then quite as suddenly, the quiet of the Kashmir valley was thoroughly shattered; the sound of multiple voices in various pitches, all speaking together, loudly and continuously reached our ears. The chattering decibels akin to that of a 100 hens laying 100 perfect eggs at one time. A large group of young women led by a middling aged fit gent had joined us. The organizers Nilesh & Nilesh (Thomson & Thompson, from Tintin, not quite but in purpose they reminded me of the twins from the comic strip) counted 15 while some said 16 and the debate continued as we were hustled into a SUV for the hotel.

Srinagar was under curfew. Why? No one knew either and on asking our driver pat came the reply “15^th Aug hai na” accompanied by a sage nod as if that explained everything. Further he added it is quite normal here. In Mumbai we are used to the sight of an odd fat assed policeman with his belly sagging over his belt carrying a stick and chewing pan while here on every second street we passed fit army men toting rifles, even the cops here looked fit if not clean. We were asked to take a circuitous route to our hotel and after reaching there, were allotted rooms by a curly haired young man with a naughty smile. The itinerary had said one night halt and the next day sightseeing in Srinagar. After freshening up we were to assemble for chai and an introduction. As we floated down the stairs we discovered the entire hotel had been allotted to our two tour groups. The entire cast and crew of our movie had been assembled.

The Filmy Briefing  :-) 

The basement dining hall had chairs lined up and almost all occupied by a motley crew of ladies and ladies, I put on my spectacles to look closer and in between could see a spare sprinkling of my gender. Jeez what had I landed myself into was the question uppermost in my mind. The organizers took charge and to my utter dismay came out with the ultimate unoriginal ice-breaker “Introduce yourselves”. The cackling coop from the airport turned out to be Dentists from Nair Hospital celebrating their pass-out far away from home, chaperoned by their destination guardian, who was himself a medico and the father of one of them. Here is one garrulous dude with a pitch to match was the first impression I got from right across the room.

It was a mixed group about 12-16 were bikers whose bikes had not yet arrived hence the next day was a logistical halt coupled with the sights. One set of working women and a few mom’s and then us misfits who neither were here nor there belonging to no group. Thus a natural culling out of the herd was achieved for our transportation ahead, the bikers and pillions would naturally go on bikes, one TT ( Tempo Traveler-Mini Bus) to the working women, one TT to the dentists and one TT to the misfits. A few smart ones had got themselves into the SUV.

Thus our full length feature film was divided into two distinct plot lines: One for the TT & the SUV which we shall narrate in real time and one for the bikers which would come to you as a flashback. Then again the main narrative as under would come from one TT’s perspective as the storyteller scriptwriter was surreptitiously placed in T1. 

The organizers began impressively by taking a disciplined line of approach, warning all of the area we had chosen for this trip and what would happen should this line be broken. Had they been able to implement it in the days to come would have straight away nominated them for the highest civilian honors was the stray cheeky thought that flitted in and out. I looked at the lady besides who manages me quite effectively. Marriage grants one a wisdom that however hard a man tries he will never be able to manage a woman ever and here were these five naive men who entertained hopes of doing that with about forty. All the very best to this optimism, I said to myself not even sharing this thought with my better half at the risk of inviting a frosty glance if not actual peril.

Slowly we started mixing around getting to know each other tentatively at first over meals and then in the bus. We would be travel companions over the next 11 days.

After a sumptuous breakfast we sat in the bus to visit the first sight, the Shankaracharya temple of Shiva ( Jyeteshwara Temple ) atop a mountain called the Zabarwan about 1100ft from the ground , known by the Buddhists as Pas Pahar and to the Muslims as Takht –E-Suleiman (The Throne of Solomon) . Climbing the steps up to it , the breakfast was digested quicker than one could say Chole Bhature...It was pristine above. In the early morning with the clouds below us and the city below the clouds the sight made up for all the initial hardship of reaching there. A mammoth Shivling sat inside. The original structure is said to have been set up about 370 BC and built up gradually in subsequent years.

Srinagar has a host of Mughal Gardens very famous ones too...they too have a curious history behind them. Babar when he came into India in 1526 AD missed the gardens of his native Samarkand and hated this barren countryside of India with people who had no concept of fineness. He and his lineage, the Mughals built gardens in and around Delhi, Agra. Jahangir, the fourth Mughal Emperor loved the valley of Kashmir and he would visit here with his queen Noor Jehan. For her he built the Shalimar Gardens full of Chinar trees, water fountains and flora planted with exquisite care by skilled gardeners. Chashm-e-Shahi bagh and the Nishat bagh have also been built in the same Persian style, large lawns to lounge with colorful flowers and roses planted to create an ambience of comfort for the senses. Holidays and festivals have these gardens full of people enjoying their free time, an action not seen in mall infested metros of the rest of India. 

We slipped away to visit “Mughal Darbar” a culinary temple found in the middle of the Lal Chowk market area. This place is famous for its Wazwan but one has to be seriously circumspect while one is ordering it here. The portion sizes are not just huge they are mammoth, so if the waiter suggests half a plate be sure to ask him do they serve quarter plates? We thought we were being cute when we asked for half a Wazwan for the two of us. What came to our table was enough to feed not just us but also our four kittens and two cats for a week. The Wazwan is a multi course meal that consists of Traem or a tray of rice quartered by Seekh Kebabs, two pieces of Tabak Maaz ( Ribs browned in butter), Safed Kokur or Chicken Kebabs and an apology of Paneer ( not present in a traditional Wazwan ). This was accompanied by three pots of gravy one containing Rogan josh (minced balls of mutton the size of tennis balls, two of them per gravy), Rishta, Goshtaba and Aab gosht...we had foolishly ordered for Rotis too. This was clearly a case of absolute miscalculation on our part but we braved through all of it wanted to sample all in some proportion. Had this restaurant been in Mumbai we could have carried the food back home in a doggy bag and lived happily ever after. Alas, this was not Mumbai and we had to send most of it back uneaten. Not a bad meal but simply too much meat and too excess a quantity.

The Dal Lake shikara ride is nothing to write home about but we did the touristy thing simply for want of a better thing to do here. We got to know a cute pair of seniors from our bus, Mr & Mrs Patil ( an ex-cop and his lady, they were the parents of one of the films directors, Nilesh Patil). The best part was drinking quawwah while the ride is on, that is one drink we quite enjoyed wherever we had it. After this we retired back to our hotel in preparation for a long ride early the next day.

 The first leg of the journey had begun , and the fun was just waiting for us.         Contd in Part2/4 ..Click here

The Ladakh Diary - Bye J&K , Hi Ladakh - Part 2/4

When nature calls , it yells , God only help you if there is no loo ... Anonymous

Srinagar-Kargil-Leh

Early morning on being assigned our bus we found ourselves getting to know some of our co-passengers better. People adjustment in confined spaces is an art form and the process can have certain tough turns to negotiate before amicability is achieved. Luckily the issue did not persist and all of us got along fine with everyone who traveled in our bus. As we leave Srinagar the route took us along the shrine of Hazratbal. This shrine houses the hair of the prophet Muhammad and was in the news for being seized by insurgents and damaged in the ensuing gunfire. From the outside we could see it in various states of repair, still being carried out. Sonmarg is the last point that one passes through Kashmir before one embarks into Ladakh. 

As one enters the Kingdom of Ladakh

One starts noticing things are different and 3 things instantly hold our attention

• The awesomeness of Nature...very stark yet startlingly beautiful, 

• The Presence of the Indian Army and the difficult conditions it operates under and

• Maggi Noodles...it’s almost a staple everywhere, sustenance and comfort food rolled into one.

The journey to Kargil is through one of the toughest roads in the world, the Zojila Pass. The army and its subdivision the BRO (Border Roads Organization) is responsible for building most of the roads in Ladakh. However nature plays the spoiler and washes away most of the good work done through melting floes of ice or through landslides that carry most of the roads down the hillside. Then the work begins again. This battle with nature is ongoing and hence across one of the highest terrains in the world we pass through stretches as long as 40 kms that is almost no road. My respect for the vehicle drivers went up and was seriously worried for the bikers, some of whom were to do night driving on this stretch. One wrong move and you are flying through the air falling anywhere between 10000-14000 ft, chances of survival are less than zero and if by some miracle one does survive he/she would be so seriously mangled that they would wish they hadn’t. The road is often closed by the BRO to ensure safe passage in the nights and to clear fallen debris and these halts can take anywhere between 2-3 hours. We hit one such patch around the afternoon. Some got down from the bus to stretch their legs & answer some persistent calls of nature...the air had started to thin and the effect was palpable. But the absolute wondrous location had people whipping out their cameras and clicking away. The traffic trickle eased and we began the journey through the pass and then Drass...This town had been totally obliterated in the 1999 India Pakistan war by enemy shelling. It is now completely rebuilt. It seemed innocuous at first sight but one feels the chill as one goes through. In winters this sector is one of the coldest places on the planet, bare without vegetation, one wonders why and how people yet keep it inhabited. I like my warmth yet obviously there are loons in this world, who enjoy this Chills Thrill and no Frills existence, but I am being uncharitable here, they probably have no choice. We passed through the Tolo Ling pass and the War Memorial at Kargil that also houses a museum. More nature calls and millions of photographs later we started out and our vehicle listed to one side...jeez a flat Tyre. By then we had enough of the road, it was 7 pm and was waiting to hit the hotel bed which eventually happened after a couple of hours. The Zojila Residency was surprisingly a very good hotel and half of us were accommodated here. The next day was another long drive to Leh... another 200 kms.

Two Dentists per Leg (of the journey...before u start thinking naughty)

I was wary of cabin fever. There is every likelihood of people boxed in confined spaces over long periods developing a healthy irritation for one another and if it were not for the transient pair of dentists we may have hit it soon enough. Now this was an interesting arrangement, out of the 15 tooth fairies (read dentists) only 13 could be accommodated on one bus and two had to be shunted out to our bus. The first two sacrificial lambs were Nausheen Shaikh and Shraddha Kulkarni; the former had consumed two pills of unknown molecular parentage. Her face so petrified of the journey that she got bombed and slept on for a good six hours before she surfaced much later. It was only in the evening we knew that she could smile and prettily too. Shraddha was fun and kept the chatter on while her friend dozed off first in this direction and then in hat. For one moment I considered the possibility of her having consumed pills just because she was sent to this bus. Holy cow...were we so scary? Thankfully later the truth emerged about her road sickness and that the pills were for the condition.

The two who would come here obviously would not come by choice, it was a punishment posting. How they selected their sacrificial lambs (maybe they drew straws, maybe they dealt out cards, or those who farted more than twice were marked for transportation here to T1) was a mechanism we never found out. Dutifully at every long halt, two would reluctantly make their way into our bus and the outgoing two would be seen skipping out with a bounce in their step. If one is familiar with the tale of Bakasura in the Mahabharata our bus definitely was Bakasura’s cave which needed fresh dentists, continuously. These young ladies with their cheerful selves however ensured that the senior citizens in our bus did not become cannibals. I am being obtuse perhaps but in this fashion we got to know a lot of them and came back very impressed with the Nair college girls. All of them without exception were extremely smart, some were very saucy and cheeky, others were shy and sweet and their individual personalities lit up the atmosphere around, easing it brightening it and in their own ways pepping it up. The young have an energy which they are not aware of and channeling into it is a high.  I loved their company. Smart women are my weakness, look at the one I married and one would immediately know.

Reaching Leh was a stretch in time, the saving grace was the picture frame postcard that kept changing outside our windows at every turn. One need not be a skilled photographer with high funda equipment in this area, a point and shoot camera is good enough. God has ensured that every frame is already composed... all one has to do is click. Good light, bad light, over exposure under exposure pahhh...the frame shall only be good if not great. It was surreal, how can any place on earth be so beautiful and that too for miles together, confounded me then and fills me with awe now, as I recall that geography. 

The Chang-La Pass : One better be careful on this road

Over meals we were warming up to most of the group, saving the bikers. The bikers were the adventurous elite who never managed to make bus timings and hence were assembled and dispatched to their rooms well after we had settled in. We met some at breakfast; by this time all 68 people had started recognizing each other by face if not name and in the presence of strangers drew closer to each other, and naturally the group started to bond. We were told to pack one night’s essentials into a back pack and proceed to the natural park which contained the lake, however there was a rider, a bogey who was waiting for us in between; The Chang La pass.

We found ourselves in the Xylo this time as many others had also hired motorcycles at Leh to bike up to Pangong. We shared the vehicle with a lovely pair, Kamal & Sonia Khatri who had biked up to here but the rough ride had taken a toll and they needed this break. And then there was Tsering the driver, the true blue star of our show today... a total live wire if ever there was one. The members who had driven with him earlier called him the Jackie Chan of Leh. Behind the wheel his constant prattle of silly one liners ensured that our time was total fun. He knew the territory inside out and we were told that if Tsering is your driver then you would reach way ahead of time. The speed with which he started guaranteed a rocking ride and rocking it was.

This ride has the distinction of being the toughest stretch in our journey. Not only are roads here beset with mud and rock-slides, they are also full of fresh water springs that pass perpendicular to the rocky pathways in sudden short bursts ...and then we also had to encounter the Chang La; the third highest motor able road in the universe. (Did you notice how the tone goes up during the course of the write up from world to earth to now universe...the land and its barren wildness had started to play on our minds by then, beautiful it was sure but how terribly tough it was to negotiate through it was the hard lesson we were getting...and we were in a four wheeler. On two wheels this road was blue murder...sandy slippery, watery, rocky, rough and very dangerous. ) The Xylo navigated at startling speeds on flat lands before we hit the mountains and Tsering pointed out to a speck in the distance way above...Wo Chaang La hai...Z-turns, some totally blind started to make the stomach go queasy as we negotiated up the pass and two hours of an arduous ride later we found ourselves atop the highest point.

The Selfie Sally’s

We were cautioned to not spend too much time here...and then the fun started. Ten minutes of photographing later the head started to become heavy...the buses too had reached and our co-travelers the poultry farm from Nair started clicking selfies . Way before Ellen De Generes made the selfie legitimate at the Oscars, these girls must have known about it was my firm conviction. Had seen them at Srinagar doing the same in the gardens but here they seem to have gone berserk.

The most interesting observation that we had on was how assured and professional each one of them was at it. No sooner they saw a camera rise up in their direction, whether it was a cell phone lens, pro-cam or SLR...these girls automatically swiveled correctly, leaned back, pouts out, smiles flashing faces composed and yelled instructions through clenched teeth without moving a muscle on their face or shifting their pose...it was totally masterful.

I was awestruck. To give you an example : Shraddha Kulkarni ...stood on a rock arms flung back, flying away standing upright, a new age Kate Winslett in the reverse, wide gummy grin flashing at the camera yelling through the smile “Holy shiiittt thiiiisss isss really reaally cold...I told you all, we should have gone to Goa”...another Vidhi, I think,  kept reeling towards the bus “Hey guys something is happening inside my head”...the others were running helter-skelter. Have you seen broilers at feeding time when they open the coop door? Then you would know what I am talking about; spread out, flying in all directions, all with cameras,  posing near the sign of Chang La by turn...And then the air started having its effect...Tsering hurried us back in the Xylo and we were sniffing camphor for a long time till we came down. 

A Dangerous Paradise:

Nature was asserting its dominance of its invasion by showing us who was the boss.

Later we came to know that a few of our new friends Jayanth & Swamy had gone through a harrowing experience at Chang La and had to rush to the army barracks for help in Oxygen stabilizing. The two moms who accompanied us also suffered some and Gauri was totally reeling by the time we reached flat land.

Tsering took us to a quaint little non-descript luncheon place in a village off the highway and we were in for a surprise. The lady owner had such a pleasant smile on her place and warmly she served us one of the best lunches we have had in a long time. Simple nutritious fare made from vegetables local and fresh, It was a full meal of Chapati, rice, vegetable, dal and pickles...we had noodles too. As we looked around we found photos of film stars from shootings done who had eaten here. The team of 3-idiots and Tashan hogging hungrily in much the same way we were polishing off our food. Bless you Tsering for showing us this place.

Pangong Tso – Sapphire Serenity

Post lunch the ride began again and we entered the sanctuary that housed the world famous lake. Twisty roads and long turns later we saw a flash of blue on the ground way below. The lake was near here and the energy depleted here by the journey came back in full charge and we were resurgent again. We soon crossed a turn and it came into full view...it sure was a breath taking sight; totally worth it coming all the way.

 As we reached the campsite we found just one bike and pair ahead of us Sunil Sawant and Hinaa Mansuri who had rough ridden the path and were miserably tired, wet and lost till we got here. Three of us sat outside sipping chai and blowing smoke rings till the rest of the crew drove in nearly a couple of hours later. It was six in the evening, totally bright and bitterly cold. The wind was tearing at us chilling every bone making the exposed portions sore n numb. As we got into a tent allotted to us...all we did was huddle in and sleep, cuddled up for warmth. An hour later we found the sun had vanished and so had the lake...everything was pitch dark save the torch lights and the tuck tent where the food was laid out. A good meal later we retired...the younger ones wanted to have a campfire but we had no energy. The biting cold had ensured we stay in and we spent one of the most horrid night of our recent lives with a howling wind that made breathing difficult. The other thing was the dark...after lights out at 10 pm there was only pitch blackness.

Night Cricket at the Pangong Tso : Use Paper Forget Water

Imagine you are in a bitterly cold place. To counter the cold you have worn layers of clothing ( we had four to five layers on, Priyal, one of the dentists said she wore 8 layers, I don’t blame the lass ). So the stage is set...all around bitter cold and you packed up in layered clothing...then nature calls. You ignore the first few calls until it yells right in your ears and you have to answer.

Using a loo in the darkness is a challenge of monumental proportions. I held on for the maximum time till the pressure was unbearable. Then I rolled out of the bed from under the covers and the cold hit me like a physical fist. It was not funny, the exposed skin became numbingly cold, in the darkness I groped for the torch kept under the pillow and found Gauris nose instead. My numbed fingers scarcely noticed the difference and I pulled. Imagine you are in an uneasy sleep and something bitingly chill lands on your nose and pulls; the painful squawk that came was accompanied by a slap on my wrist. My hand was pushed away and in that it luckily landed on the torch...whew.

I switched it on to only find that Gauri had snuggled in deeper and gone back to sleep. I went in to the loo and located the pot; my batting pitch. To my horror I found that somebody was in the loo in an adjoining tent. The light from their torchlight had created clear shadows of a person sitting and letting go with absolute abandon. Hurriedly I shut my torch lest my performance also be as open to another’s scrutiny and judgement. I batted bravely in the dark. If one were to use cricket analogy, let alone the speeding ball that came ones way and zips past that unseen, here was I in a situation playing so absolutely blind that neither could I see the pitch nor the bat in my hand. I simply prayed to the good lord for straight shooting skills. I feel it only fair to tell that washing up after with ice cold water renders the adipose tender. One is in shock and total pain, clean yes but hurt. Hurriedly restoring the layers I tumbled back into bed after sniffing camphor a couple of times.

Daybreak, Sunrise and the beautiful Pangong

I woke up straight at 5.30am all fresh and bright. It was only to find that no one was as keen to see the sunrise over the Pangong Tso. I called out to Gauri but she was quite pooped yet and not fully surfaced hence left her and sat on a plastic chair with my camera. Soon I was joined by my bus colleague the good doctor Ashit Kadakiaa and for a long time we were the only two outside. He walked to the lake from one side and I from the other...the cold water was grey as the sun was not up yet...as it curled up and hit the shore in small wavelets it crinkled into icicles that broke up and were swept back into the water only to be brought out again. The science student in me tried hard to remember at what temperature does salt water freeze. It was many degrees below zero i smiled smartly and walked back...to have a chai and enjoy a leisurely smoke as the Sun hit the horizon.

The phenomenon is typical of snow capped mountains. first the sides light up like stage sidelights turned on by a dimmer switch. turned up gradually and in one startling moment there is a bright flash.  it almost has a sound so sharp , it was as if the Sunrise had hit the day with a clap...one instant it was all greys and the very next bright gold...the transformation of the lake was equally startling...from a muddy grey to a pure sapphire blue.Refraction sure is a funny thing.

This lake finds a quarter of itself in India while the rest resides in the Chinese territories....Just watching the cool calm blue waters in between sips of tea and curling smoke is a Zen experience. I just soaked it all in, after all who knows when one comes back here again? I had done the same nearly a decade ago while watching a man made wonder at Giza in Egypt,  the Pyramids. from my tiny balcony of the Mena House Oberoi hotel. This creation Pangong Tso though was all the makers, Gods hand in it was obvious, it was perfection. I had noticed a few chinks n kinks even in the Pyramids though very grand, here apart from the human incursions around, everything was sublime. No photograph can ever capture what the minds eye sees and the senses experience. Later in the day when we started back we did that too, the sheer touristy abomination of clicking our photographs on that backdrop. It is our profile picture so cornily filmy it has turned out to be. The pictures have come out wonderfully well but the credit is hardly ours or the expensive cameras that captured them…that perfect frame came pre-designed by the being above as he constructed this landscape.

Pangong Tso to Leh

The journey back saw us stopping and having a look at some fauna which we normally don’t get to see even in zoos, Beavers. They were fat n warm rodents who despite all warning boards to tourists to not feed them enjoyed their offerings with friendly relish…well nobody told the beavers not to eat.

Yaks and their families would suddenly make their appearances on road corners and the vales abounded with grazing horses, cattle, goats and sheep. They would cross the road with impunity by the hundreds and one had to give them their time as being natives they had the right of the way after all.

After a lunch stop we managed to reach the checkpoint outside of Leh where we waited for the Tempo Travellers to catch up. It was around four in the evening and the journey back seemed way quicker than what we encountered going forward, however a few of a our bus co-passengers had turned into full blown patients and Dr. Ashit had been kept busy rendering help and care. Our SUV then got turned into an ambulance to ferry those back to the hotel for a rest while we went back into the Tempo. We rejoined our old mates and were greeted by two new dentists who had joined in …both having the name Sneha. Our minds were reeling from remembering all their names in the first place and then they foist two girls with same name…Grinning broadly they by themselves solved the dilemma for us. I am Sneha Kothare and she is Sneha Gada well so it was Gada and Kothare…livewires both and needless to say loud. One plonked herself on the wooden box of the driver’s seat facing the bus under the pretext of motion sickness which by now we realised affected a quarter of the group. I rather suspected that her reason to sit ahead was to become a madaari and take charge of the proceedings in the vehicle. In a very boisterous and charming manner this one hogged the footage totally.  Dumb Charades was the order of the day. Our young companions Jayanth, Abhijeet, Prarthana, and the two Snehas dived into it along with the youngest of them all Dr. Ashit whose gusto in enacting some movies evoked instantaneous smiles from us. Our facial control was better hence only smiles and surprised laughter that never ceased to stop from the others. We loved him for his spontaneity, marvelled at his knowledge that he wished to compulsively share and were awestruck at his ability to talk and keep talking. Lata Mangeshkar’s interview came to my mind when she had been asked on when does she breathe while executing a glorious high pitched continuous taan? I had a similar question for our doctor at the copious amount of data that flowed out of his mouth in a continuous stream without him appearing to breathe. Some people are naturally gifted.

We visited two monasteries the same afternoon and not knowing much about Tibetan Buddhism which is the practiced religion cursorily took in the sights to find out more about it on Google when back. I am not too hot on religious places and visit as a tourist rather than a devout. We utilized this time in getting to know our new companions better and they were a charming and wicked pair. We had a good time simply bitching as we reached our hotel again called Pangong Hotel. The rooms were very nice as we checked in.

The next day we were to be off to the Pakistan border and Nubra valley. As we sat on the lawn of the Pangong Hotel sipping on chai our senior most companions Mr.  & Mrs. Patil joined us. We knew them now pretty well as we had done the shikari ride in the Dal Lake together. A small furry black cat got into our rooms and for its tiny size had a king sized demanding meow. We have cats at home and so do Mr & Mrs Patil hence the cat was drawn to us feline friendly humanoids is my feeling. That fur ball was simply hungry and it ate a full cracker biscuit before it took leave of us. Soon the bikers joined us and we got around to talking about the ride and incidents. Gada and her friend Digvi too strolled over from the adjoining hotel. Digvi another dentist had made a monumental decision to cross the line from the safe tempo on to a bike pillion and she was testing waters with the bikers was my guess. Dheeraj or Nilesh would be her pilots exactly who was not fixed up just then. And soon after freshening up we had dinner and retired to wake up even earlier the next day for the journey.

We had survived the journey so far and the land was growing on us as were the people in our group.

 Contd in Part 3/4 ... Click here

The Ladakh Diary : Khardung La - Nubra Valley , Natures Travesty Part 3/4

Fact is stranger than fiction and nothing can endorse this more than nature ... Unknown 

If we thought Chang La was high then Khardung La at 18400ft approx. was higher, in fact the highest motor able road on this planet. Fortunately the road to reach the valley was in a much better state than those at Zojilla or Chang la. Conditions though were not conducive along these mountains as each turn almost was a blind one; the tempo zigged while the road zagged. The body by then had acclimatized and we did not feel the shock or the strain of fighting a nameless enemy that we couldn't see like at Chang La. The photo ops continued on the way. This countryside was just as scenic as the one going on to Pangong. Today we had the doctor’s daughter Ritika and her pal Priyal along with us.

The local tour lynch-pin the man on the ground here in Ladakh for Mumbai Travelers and Trekmates India , Vishal was in our bus and his running commentary kept the information flow going on what we should expect ahead. The most interesting data nugget he shared was about Nubra. He said it was the largest town outside of Leh with about 250 houses and the valley was controlled by women ( well then , isn’t the world, what’s so surprising, well okay...at least my world is). They had laid out certain guidelines on tobacco and non-veg in Nubra valley and none would be available. This was an interesting tit-bit. Tobacco is not even sold on the way and if any vendor transgresses this dictate he is apparently fined pretty heavily. Second interesting bit was that no yellow licensed vehicles from outside of Leh are allowed on the road between Leh and Nubra so also Leh and Pangong, so my friends if you feel you would want to drive over in these parts, use your own vehicles and do not hire one from back home. Two reasons for this, one of course to protect local employment and second and more important one is that these roads being the way they are, you are way safer to have them navigated by a local.

This time the adventure bug hit the doctor and he chose to ride behind, to his ill-luck behind the most adventurous bikers of all here, Leelamohan. Adventurous is an understatement, our LM had a penchant for driving without a helmet as it interfered with his hairdo and he clicked selfies while riding the bike. On this tortuous road it looked like he was in a tearing hurry to be say hello to the lord personally; this was the rider chosen by Dr.Ashit. It was not without cause his daughter lost interest in the scenery around and kept nibbling on crackers with unseeing eyes…Priyal in her soft hesitant voice pointed out to her “Ritika, the crackers are finished, those are your fingers you are chewing, are they as good?”

Soon we passed the Nubra River, and we were 60 kms away from the most dreaded battleground on earth, the Siachen Glacier. In the distance Vishal pointed out to a road that led to it and another that lead directly to Pangong bypassing Leh, both he said are more fit for goats than human beings  let alone vehicles. Nubra town sure was bigger than most we had seen as a settlement. And here we were staying in another tent resort, but first for lunch. It was nearly 3.30 and the twisting roads had its impact on Mrs Patil who hurriedly said goodbye to everything in her stomach upchucking there on the grass itself where the bus was parked. Most people though arrived unscathed.

The Apple orchard which was one tent resort had apples and apricot trees abounding laden with fruit. We reached out and ate apricots fresh from the trees; the apples were a mite higher. Fruit from a tree is a novelty to us city dwellers and the taste of the juicy fresh flesh in our mouths was like manna. We were finishing up our lunch when the bikers arrived and the good doctor and LM had expressions that said it all. Cat had got the tongue of the doctor who otherwise belted it out nineteen to the dozen. He looked as if he had cheated death more than once on the way. Men get a peculiar look in their eyes having gone through such an experience. He had it in spades and we allowed him his space to find his own equilibrium. 

We were allotted a tent in the adjoining resort to Apple Orchard. I was glad to see huge sunflowers outside our tents and a bathroom which was bright and lit and a tent that had power for 24 hours. The blind batting of Pangong was not going to be an issue here. We had floodlights by that comparison  J . This was such a relief that I decided to test the turn of the pitch immediately. Virendra Sehwag could not have scored at the rate I did. Lighter now, I hit the ground with a jaunt in my step. I stepped out of the tent to inspect the place. It was rustic with apricot trees and a small badminton court marked out on the grass.

The buses would be ready for us in an hour to take us to the aberration of nature called the Nubra desert. Sounds funny doesn't it? Imagine we are 14000 feet above sea level, flowing along is the muddy Nubra river, we are surrounded by barren mountains topped with snow and what do we encounter…Sand Dunes and Bactrian (double humped) camels. I am sure the Sheikhs of Dubai would have got an inspiration to build their own ice rinks and aquariums in the desert after visiting this place. What man tries, nature already has “Been there & done that”. We had a great time in the desert, walking along the sand dunes watching the camels and the tourists and then the tourists on the camels…I was also curious whether I would see a camel on a tourist, but alas…that is a sight I did not come across. Trigger happy Prarthana was busy clicking away till her camera battery died on her, the dentists, the doctors and all perched precariously on the camels was an interesting sight however that’s an experience we gave a miss. The camels all said and done were small and not quite like the Arabic or Rajasthani camels, tall and rugged. These looked so sweet that had Gauri or I rested our posteriors on their backs, we just may have been the tourists that I mentioned who would have to carry the camels on our backs.

Their dining room even had a small collection of books for the guests. Dinner was with the bunch of boisterous bikers while watching pro-kabaddi on TV eating a local specialty which was more like Dal –Dhokli of Gujarat or Varan-fala or chhakulya from Maharashtra. Desert was an interesting sugared apricot in lemon syrup. Arvind Jadhav and his wife we knew from the bus but his two classmates we got introduced to here. Sunil Jawane had a school is one person Gauri and I got talking to. It had grown dark and there was a campfire now. As is the nature of campfires, the fire rises and the heat hits the group. Dheeraj Patil fished out his camera and clicked some of the best pictures I have seen on this trip. Instinctive understanding of a medium, oneness with the technology and infinite patience are the hallmarks of a superlative photographer and he was an artist with the camera. His two partners Sunil Shinde & Jeevan Chougale kept the prattle  going. Dumb charades were the order and all had a good time. Suraj Shinde the official team leader came out with a capital suggestion that created one of the most hilarious moments in the group. He had every member in a couple sing to her /his better half and hence the seniors were done away with first. When the freshly engaged Jeevanhad to sing a song to his fiancee, instinctively he sang “Bilanshi naagin nighaali, nagoba dulaaya laagla”and this brought the house down totally that his performance was recorded by his pals to be shown back at home.

A Genuine Find : The Tibetan Kitchen, Leh Market

The drive back to Leh was without incident again and we had a full evening free for us and the next day was rest. We had decided to skip the meal at the hotel as we wanted to try the local fare at Leh. We started to ask around. The five different people we asked around all told us the same name “The Tibetan Kitchen”. We went about finding it. It is situated right at the end of the main Leh market. Another curious thing that happened to us in Leh was, we were walking around and felt it was someplace in Maharashtra, quite a few tourists from other groups heard us talk in Marathi and started conversing with us , some were from Pune, Yet others from Mumbai, a few from other parts. A lot of other places we go to has Gujarati. Now the people from Gujarat are great travelers, we had quite a few in our group. This though was one place in India where the tourist from Maharashtra beat the Gujarati tourist in sheer numbers. Gauri reasoned it out to the passion of the tourists from our home state to be more adventurously inclined with trekking and climbing forts, all of which is available in plenty there. Sound it was the reasoning.

Gauri and I are foodies; we are not fussy but serious. Food when we are fine dining has to be authentic and done very well. For this we have a few simple litmus tests for restaurants in places unknown. First of course is our own sense of sight, it has to be clean, well lit and well laid out, offering enough privacy for each table ( hygiene is important). Second we check out the number of locals in the place. If the number equals that of tourists then we are satisfied that the place has merit, if there is waiting even better. The third we check for informed service staff on the items served in the menu. In his absence we order the cheapest local dish on the menu and assure ourselves. As we were shown to our table in the garden after waiting for a few minutes the smiling senior waiter came over and he recommended Vegetable Thukpa half portions for each, two plates of momos ( 6 pieces each, one veg and one chicken) and we had to try the house specialty, the river trout. We had a beer to start off the meal. As we sat in the cool evening, we realized how blissfully content we were and yes this was also the first peaceful time away from the group without any time line restriction. In Srinagar we had to be back before a certain time and half the fun of a meal is gone when you are watching a clock.

The beer arrived and as we sipped through and discussed about this and that serving dishes arrived for the momos. The momos by themselves were superbly done, nearly transparent pouches with enough filling to satisfy the bite. The accompanying sauces were soy , mustard and a vinegary hot dip which was absolutely delicious. With six momos inside us and the beer settling we were content. Then came the thukpa , which is basically a noodle soup with vegetables thrown in. The stock has to be just right here so should the quantity and proportion of the noodles and veggies, to make it a meal. This was simply superb. When a restaurant makes a great soup we know we are in safe hands. 

We now had expectations for the main course that was to come and the platter came in with a whole fish, pan fried sizzling on a bed of chopped salad veggies smelling divine. The fish itself was about a foot in length, fleshy and about three inches in width. The skin crackled crisp and the flesh inside was perfectly cooked and juicy, the light spicy marinade going superbly with the fresh water fish. Leisurely we went thru the whole thing, talk stopped as mouths got busy...it was the best meal we have had on the trip so far and we simply prolonged it.

Later we returned back to the hotel in the dark making a few sundry purchases in the market. We are not great shoppers but we had some in our group that we have observed were made for the market. Our busmate Vibhuti had a craving of having to shop and her glee at finding a market or stalls near any place we went too was a thing to see. Among the others, yes among the dentist girls we noticed Nausheen the girl who was our first companion, the one who slept was a champion. Shopping and creating time for quick raids into the market is a fine art and both Gauri and I realized that here was a master of the craft. She would bundle up three or four of her companion into one rickshaw or enthuse them enough to get to a market and they would land on the unsuspecting locals with the precision of Fokker Dive bombers used by the Germans in World War II. The squeals of delight as they returned victorious with bags full of their spoils of the raid was a sight that never failed to tug at our lips. It was pure pleasure watching their happiness. No, we never mentioned it or acted curious, we simply enjoyed watching them enjoying. The sight of happiness is a mood lifter and they kept us up and cheered. 

We truly at this point were totally unaware hence unprepared for the adventure awaiting us.    

Contd & Concluded in part 4/4