A TREK TO TIKONA: IN SEARCH OF A ‘MAHARAJA’

Oh boy! With my Bohemian socks don’t match the earthy living and a whacko mindset—discipline is too rare a term to ask for. In fact ‘disgusting’! A pool of mud, lush paddy fields with green monsoon laid outstretched, smoky mountain cliff, moss under the sole, and incessant rain; it’s a gift being a ‘Bohemian’.

A striking feature of Indian history towards the end of seventeenth century lies the emergence of Marathadom and the hero, Shivaji—the warrior king. This upsurge of interest and urge to catch the breathtaking views from the pivotal bases created by Shivaji which has also been the witnesses to many historic struggles; forced me to pack myself in a rucksack and set to expedition.

Strategically perched atop a pyramid-shaped hill, the 3500ft high hill-fort in western India, Tikona (also known as Vitandgad) is triangular with lofty footsteps and wild ravines. Instead of walking the muddy road from Tikona village to the base and then hike, I decided the difficult route that otherwise short but deadly…(In fact, I walked the muddy road and after having realized that it won’t justify the valor of the guerilla king I take the other one after having my shoes smudged). The initial views are very impressive, huge sheer cliff faces, rock formations and small arches with soft green visible on the way in. Rains made it all difficult. The loose soil and fast-flowing muddy water add to difficulty. I was cursing myself but still climbed higher and higher with indomitable spirit and changing vista at every 500ft.

You know, Mama! Sometimes I like to take the difficult way only to be nearer to death. I wonder what it feel like having fallen down the great heights, hanging at the rock while a big *ugly* spider crawl down my back. A sense of thrill and escapade stayed in my mind, I can't forget anything and it all get bottled up in here and sometimes I feel like a crazy man. Sloughed, slouched, slipped, slithered, smeared, and soaked, I sniggered to the deadly ravines and move through the narrow trail that slithers and withers away.

And, voila! I made it.

The fort is a trekking destination noted for the large doors, stony staircases (which are narrow in width and unruly (oh!) full of moss too), natural cisterns, and some Satvahana caves. The fort forms a quartet to three of its sisters – Tung, Lohagarh, and Visapur – citadels of Maratha power and their glory. The Nizam dynasty (first conqueror of the fort) having lost the fort to Shivaji in 1657 along with the region who used it strategically due to its height as the watch-tower for the entire Pawana Mawal region. In June 11, 1665 Shivaji surrendered the fort to Mughal warrior Kubadkhan under the ‘Treaty of Purandar’ but later re-captured by Marathas. A small battle was fought with the British on Tikona in year 1818 and the fort was damaged to a great extent. Till date the fort of Tikona lies in the form of ruins.

Having climbed the fort-top (3558ft approx) I stretched my arms as the breeze kissed my face and rain drenched till the soul. Mamma…I felt like a conqueror! Standing at the top of the world (yes, I got myself naked) clasped under the smoky cover; I though missed the views of region underneath yet, cold and contended. Unruly and undisciplined!

My soul was lonely like a stone - there was no moss; and when I danced I danced alone.

PS: A special thanks to Subhash, the son of the village headman and my guide for the day who escorted me through the danger trail, soaked in constant rain, brought me to his home to serve hot food. Thanks Aaji and Ajoba.

Happy Reunion Week

So, what now for the blog?
Sometimes friends and ol’ relation take time to grow but what would you call when ‘a long lost relation’ resumes "somehow". Well…a reunion was the code of the week. It is a way to keep old bonds and build new ones with spongy chocolate lemon cakes, scrumptious nostalgias and chilled beer served with fish fingers dipped in salmon mayonnaise (- mustard).

Back to the event, the dawn is yet to break as I smoked (my fourth) in this early hours. For last one-and-half hour, I walked the crowded streets bathed in fluorine lights watching every soul who step-out from luxurious Volvo’s - in search of known two. The clock moved slowly and time mowed as my heart began to sink and eyes get drowsy. Its 2:30 a.m. The phone ranged and the two esquires (s²) were on the other end; in the city. Cheerfully, I walked faster than any sprinter and in the dead of the night bathed with fluorescent glares, the three soul’s reunited – face to face, skin over skin, soulfully.

It take fourteen lonely years to travel back the time and hark to good times of life. S² [Shantanu and Sandeep] and I have been friends since we were children. Like I said, we have a little common "history" that longer than anyone to block out. There is a series of do-you-remember events, classmates, achievements and failures…I missed many of them for the longing 14-years. And! After all these 14-years when you *hug* him close and tight with flesh-to-flesh; souls crack down.

Next, 42-hours I hardly slept. We chatted like we’ll never able to communicate …and words get invented. Strolled, shopped, giggled, laughed, and known each other…we inventing ourselves in new way. At last darkness has come to gift each one a new weekend and get back to our respective lives. Well I should wrap this up before I start to ramble. So, *Goodbye* till we re-unite again.

Search for Solitude

Solitude-when you get saturated with silence and landscape, then you need an interior work, psalms, scripture, and meditation. But, first the saturation. Looking at the PC through evil fluorescent bulbs, tiresome competitive deadlines I’m grumpy and tired and damn I’m tired of daily regularities.

Saturday, 4:00 A.M.: Finally, the deadlines are pushed across the table to wait, crude corporatism shrugged off, and my fingers switched the ringing cellphone OFF. From the piles of labeled wears I picked the pair of torn jeans and commoner T-shirt and escaped.

Destination *Solitude*; Desire *Explore myself*; Mode *Travel* (gawd) I never it will all end up with awakening to Spirituality within me.

Morning, 8:30 A.M: I hastily boarded off the local train at Malavali (11 km from Lonavala) and decide to walk to one of the Monolithic excavation atop the Sahaydri hills – Karla Caves. Built during 3rd and 2nd century B.C., Karla Caves is a very easy trek if you’re an avid traveler. A mark of Hinayana Buddhist tradition, the monks generally chose isolated rocky outcrops and hillsides to make rock-cut caves to meditate. Centuries later, I climbed the wriggly path as it often open up like a fork (one of the finest pathways all chipped) to pay my everlasting tributes to their beliefs and find moments of solitude.

The rock-cut caves are the most interesting part of Buddhist style of architecture well adapted to Indian conditions, both in terms of material and spiritual search. Apart from the climatic suitability, the concept of the cave strikes one of the fundamental chords of Indian spirituality-of being one with nature. Naturally, the existence of a natural cave is well thought-after. According to Buddhist prescription holy men should live neither too near nor too far from the cities-not too near to be distracted by material life, nor too far to make begging rounds. The vicinity of Lonavala, a chief commercial center to Karla Caves is therefore the best and most suitable example of Buddhism is very prospect.

These caves, in fact the first rock-cut temples originated in India after the death of Gautama Buddha is rich repertoire of architectural and spiritual sanctity with (a) a stupa (hemispheric funerary mounds built over the remains of Lord Buddha of holy men); (b) the chaitya (large hall for congregation and worship, having a central holy image or relic in one end); (c) the viharas (monasteries, where Buddhist monks stayed); and (d) the rock-cut caves.

Carved into the living rock, the entire monument is 40m long and 15m high built in 80 BCE by monks and artists that depicted the well known artistic carving. Interesting, built in the time of the Hinayana sect, during the Satavahanas rule, these caves do not actually show the Buddha. Comprising of 16 viharas (monasteries) and Chaitya or Chapel (one of the largest across the country) the walls are adorned with exquisite murals and sculptures depicting animal forms and Buddha in ecstasy.

A large column at the entrance with a lion carved and sun window that make a grand impression welcomes you when you enter the Chapel. The main cave has a magnificent Chaitya with huge pillars and intricately carved relief dating back to the 1st century B.C. Within the complex are a great many other magnificently carved prayer halls or chaityas as well as viharas or dwelling places for the monks. A feature of these caves is their arched entrances and vaulted interiors.

The chaityagriha at Karla is also unique as it is one among the two chaityagrihas in western Deccan which has huge lion pillars in front (the other one being at Kanheri). The chaityagriha is entered through a screen wall erected in front of the verandah, which in turn has three entrances, the central one opening into the nave and the other two, into the flanking aisles. The side walls of the verandah and inner face of the screen wall are extensively decorated with sculptures. The front wall of the verandah is also profusely decorated. These miniature windows are connected through a vedika and a roll cornice. This pattern extends throughout the entire width of the façade of the hall. The huge chaitya window provides good light source to lit the stupa and the pillars of the grand chaityagriha. The sun window, a wonderful arrangement for the diffusion of light, deflected the rays of the sun in such a manner that soft light fell on the stupa and the screen , half tones on the pillars and gloom in the aisles. The atmosphere thus created is remarkable for its solemnity and fervor. Surprisingly, woodwork is not a common feature in Buddhist sculpture and art, and hence it shows effect of other cultures that assimilated with the Buddhist art, to give it a refreshingly new look.

The chaitya hall is 124ft in length and 45ft in width with an extremely imposing, a kind of massive vestibule to the arcade screen in its rear. The two giant pillars have a group of lions supporting a large wheel and are about 50ft high. The most remarkable feature of the cave is its arched roof supported by wooden beams which have astonishingly survived the onslaught of elements for more than 2,000 years. The Wooden Umbrella above the Chaitya is unique in the Buddhist caves around the world. There is absolutely no sign of any corrosion. It is the finest example of the kind perhaps in the world. The stupa consists of a cylindrical drum rising in two stages. A hemispherical dome rises over the drum which supports a cubical harmika and a seven stepped inverted square pyramid over it. Over the pyramid is placed a wooden chhatri with a shaft through a hole pierced into it.

The inscriptions on the pillar narrates donation of land to the Veluraka Samgha. The inscription of Pulumavi is dated in his 24th year of his reign (A.D. 154). The inscriptions thus give the ancient name of Karla as ‘Veluraka’.

The actual process of construction is fascinating. The chosen hillside was cleared of shrubs and other growth. The parallel tunnels were then run to the desired depth and timber wedges driven vertically into the exposed rock at convenient centers. When moistened, these wedges expanded and dislodged large chunks of stone that were removed through the mouth of the cave. Thus the rock was exposed. At this point all the exposed rock would be chiseled and polished and only then would the workmen continue the excavation. Gradually, with mere one-fourth-inch chisels and hammers as the tools, the excavation was carried on from the ceiling downward-a tedious process but one that has survived, as Karla testifies. Once excavated, timber trelliswork and balconies were added as trimmings.

The scenic view, gurgling waterfall, steep climbing route, and crude rock hermitage engulfed under white, fluffy clouds is an appropriate terrain to find solitude and reconnect to yourself. Peace regained.

My A** is on DISPLAY

Enter the life of a modern Learning Analysts and first time in the life, I felt “beautiful”. Hmm! Slicing the morsels of tortes filled with warm rhubarb compote with a pair of flatten baguette chinoise and sipping expensive wines at best pubs…I’m the thinking machine, the Enlightened One.

A promising paycheck than the career path, swarm of lovely women by the side but none to love; dressed heavily with remodeled versions from the house of *PRADA* complimented with hi-tech thingamabobs. The air around me smells of Dolce and Gabbana thickened with attitude, phony smiles yet elegant as I snigger…I chided—I’m the *Shrew* Unleashed.

It feels great! EVERYONE wants this. Everyone wants to be *us*.
Hmm…Are you truly a One? Tsk…tsk!

Well, enter my private chamber as I wash down the painted face; each cut, each scar, each burn—a different mood, a different time. Unacknowledged, I go uncredited - a freakin’ hussy, a “mud puddle” to the corporate kinsmen. If you ain’t an Instructional Designer lemme explain.

First a job that promises to uncurl every compartments of your mental state and challenges the *intelligent* within. No designs, no instructions, no information…”The client wants a simple program to tutor a group who’re aware but nerdy”. Make a simple one…easy and engaging. You burn volts of night lamps; shredded reams of paper; kissed the coffee cup night-long. Struggled to find a more engaging learning aspect and tossed, smoked, and scratched the scalp. Bling! Bling!

Clueless yet you hit the bulls***. Got an idea and time to start working “somethin’ outta nothing”. Morning breaks; breakfast lay cold in the coffee table as you run to the computer to head-on the most grueling task. But fail…wonder, why ain’t it working? “It must be” your Project Manager says, “Need help…dial M”. Oh! A gentle soul…a true Messiah.

Hastily you opened the inbox and scribbled a secret message to the great *genie* “Need SME”. Like a judge in the courtroom he thumbed down and wrote politely, “Request denied”. Did I say “a gentle soul”, “a genie” — well, they must put him in a lamp to do the trick. Clueless! Still you make ‘somethin outta a nothing’ and goes uncredited unacknowledged.

Weeks passed. Client meets in the teak-wooded chamber with glass window looking at the monsoon sky. Raindrops dripping from the olive lip, smoky cups of coffee laid, whiff of Gabbana filled the room. He adjusted his thin frame over the shapely nose and toss the lukewarm hair—smiled at you *slyly*; heart thumped. The air around turned foul; it smelt strange you angled to the door but there are MEN in the room to overpower. You’re clueless.

The projector roar and more than that the client, “It ain’t engaging”.

Why didn't you just crawl into my bed and ask a bedtime story? You nerdy. You looked around.

Eyes fixated and lips stitched. The Project Manager is dead. The Delivery guy wears an anxious look and the other one broke to *yawn*. (Yea…Yea! I know u Men. The same thin’ is goin’ to make it and all of you will be the silent witnesses). The banter, over cups of bitter brew and stacks of crusty sandwiches is goin to be livelier than the chutney. You plead your case. “This is what we had and understood. We desperately needed a SME to spell it out but they’re unavailable”.
He sniggered. “Losers make excuses”.

Wat? Loser…who? Fielded against 15GDs and 7PDs who’re nothing but clumsy and inept. You worked and then re-worked to make the model suits them and to the client. A lone soul with no input still you try and designed…now, this guy calls ‘loser’. Huh!

“I didn’t like the interface”, the client roared. But that’s your design, Sir…you defend politely. “Is it? No…ooooh”

You mumble and look for a defence. The counsels yawned, blinked, eyes wide opened—they’re dead. The client tucked his hand to his waist and fingers playing the trumpet. You go through the long list of names and issues not to reveal…You’re asked not to spill, not to spit “gulp the whole thin’.” Queer things goin to happen.

Aaah! You’re into a strip club for a nice heavy package. You’re called Learning Analyst (correction) the private secretary to everyone in a corporate environment standing under the billboard that reads “My ass is on DISPLAY”. They all need a free hump starting with graphic designers who will ask to make simple graphics, programmers who complain of complicated applications, requests from Project Managers to complete tasking within 24-hours (the budget is too low and he’s always into cheap sex), then comes Delivery head who’s always locked in his room and thinks himself *a Great man*. Lastly, the client who un-appreciate and wants a zanie baby sucking his d*** under the table.

We did it all but let’s forget the learning elements. Still, wanna know what makes me order tortilla over the sandwiches…huh! Come to the life of Learning Analysts aka Instructional Designers in a corporate environment.

And I got lonely!

There are a lot of things running around my mind. I want to understand them. So I’m writing them down. I know I feel sad. Why, dunno? Maybe I am alone…The rainy days are here. The weather is cold. The soil is damp, if not muddy. The cold breeze sweeps through the trees.

It often reminds me of sadness. It gives me that deep lonely feeling. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the melancholic personality I have. Makes me want to write poetry or paint or write stories. It gets lonely day after day.

It’s cold, filthy, and lonely. Lonely then and lonier now! How can you bear it?
At times it feels like I am a lonely man standing in a cemetery with glorious epitaphs of people sick and lonely.