Wednesday, March 31, 2010
He was the Young Turk with a mansion and a harem. She’s sexy floorboard wench wily enough to be whoranndo; both walk into the history with a *indecent proposal* - and voluntary death by fire for poetic justice to follow.
The story begins in circa 13th century, when Chittorgarh, was under the rule by ‘not-so’ glorious King Ratansen. The king walked into the history book for his famed wife, Padmavati or Padmini; a beautimas and could make men enjoy masturbathing with a mere reflection. According to me, the King is a perfect obsolesce in the tale playing the role of a ‘source’ or the ‘reason’ to this grandiose and much-hyped legendary story which otherwise would have been another great Indian love affair.
Now, for those who have already familiar and have dropped their pants off, lemma’ bring you back to your senses by telling the fat-free bootilicious ‘babe’ lived in her own time and now died. We’re reloading her story. So…, a Young Turk from the North travelled with his cheerleaders and Green Berets and lived in canopies in the wild desert with a wish for a glimpse of royal beauty. (Dude, she ain’t Greta Garbo?) But, all in vain and end up waiting until one-day he tricked the ‘husband’ to agree.
As I’ve mentioned and now my theories confirms, Ratansen was a feeble jerk, a compulsive wanker, and meanie. In fact, he’s the mastermind to the history’s most indecent love affair that sought for a poetic justice to sound sober. Anyways, where was Alauddin Khilji?
Standing in the middle of a chamber that overlooking to the Queen’s Palace through the mirrors on the wall, the Young Turk with a mansion and harem was impatient yet; composious till the voluptosaur meekly stepped out and did the reflection thingee. Scientifically and on human ground, I consider the MAN to have fallen in love thus contradicting to the age-old historic belief who blames Mr. Khilji to be lecherous.
First, Mr. Khilji is a MAN who owns a whorehouse and plenty of sex, daily; but languishing in the desert for such a long-time thus sex-starved. Secondly, reflections produces better imageries than the real (that’s why they invented camera) and Padmavati happened to have shown her glimpse in the water which produces a mirror-image and genuinely hallucinates the Young Turk. Third, per human nature – the neighbor’s wife is sexcillent than one that you own. Finally, Padmavati is sedusive in her own way and perfectly orchestrated her looks and reflection to make the MAN start glistening. Poor Khilji, for he’s sexcommunicated in the history whereas, in real, he’s only a prey to Mr. and Mrs. Schematics. Ouch!
What happened later is a poetic justice or myth, yet to be proved. Still, I consider Mr. Khilji acted as a brash and quite foolishly to be easily fooled out. He trapped the man, who was otherwise has no significance apart of possessing a beautiful wife whom he showcases to earn enemies. He laid a siege to capture the fort immediately which inspire his sexi-natalie to walk into the History’s Wall of Fame by committing Johar or Indian hara-kiri – an act of jumping into the fire and turn to ashes. And, thus the glorious story of a would-be love tale abruptly ends into exalted act and history continues…
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Situated at a distance of 80kms northwest of Udaipur, on the banks of Banas River; the bulbous Kumbhal-garh fortress was one of the least-known yet historic citadel, took 15-long years for Rana Kumbha to build. And, what a stupendous creation of man containing a domed palace along the 36km long winding walls that defended the citadel from series of battlements and second-only to the famous wall of China.
Now, if you got the itching notion that this overwhelming fortress is an abandoned medieval structure with almost no inhabitants around; you’d be disappointed to find delighted activities with fertile landscape around. Built in circa 1485, the fortress is guarded by seven lofty gates as you climb the steep walls which are wide enough for eight horses to march abreast. For years, though she served as impregnable hideouts to Mewari rulers during crisis and stands as a wary sentinel but it was a mammoth task for Rana Kumbha and his men to make such a creation stand to its ground.
In fact, the most interesting part to any Rajasthani fortress is the associated folklore or legends mix with history and Kumbhal-garh is nothing short of it. In 1443, when the king started the construction the structure eventually crumbles to ruins by the sunset until a spiritual preceptor address the king to offer human sacrifice but voluntarily done. The king sent out word, but, as can be expected, no one volunteered. But one day, a pilgrim (also considered to a soldier from the commandment) volunteered and been ritually decapitated. The sacrifice was necessary to ensure that the battle walls being constructed by Rana Kumbha would be strong enough to withhold the sieges. Today the main gate of the fortress, Hanuman Pol contains a shrine and a temple to commemorate the great sacrifice.
The palace at the top of the cliff, known as Badal Mahal is a two-storied structure divided into two interconnected distinct portions i.e. the Zanana and the Mardana Mahal and elaborately decorated with oil paintings. The Zanana Mahal is provided with stone jalis which facilitated the queens to see the court proceedings and other events in privacy. (Note: Most of the rooms are currently restored by the Government of India and thus, found to be locked, the views over the walls to the jungle covered hillsides and across the deserts of Marwar towards Jodhpur, are simply stunning.)
Close to the fortress as you climb down the plains is the Neelkanth Mahadeo Temple dedicated to Lord Shiva. The six foot high stone Lingam (the symbol of Shiva) is the only deity in the area still being worshipped and maintained by the locals. A legend says that Rana Kumbha was said to be so tall that as he sat for his prayers on the floor of the temple, his eyes were on level with the deity! It is said that the king was about 9 feet tall. He never began a day without performing prayers to this deity himself. What an irony that he was beheaded by his own son, as he prayed. It is easy to get lost in time as you stand on the walls of this fort, listening to the stories of its legendary king – the king who gave his name to this area, and who lives on through his deeds long after his tragic demise.
But the story of a fortress doesn’t end here unless you recall the sieges that she defended or succumbed. Accordingly, Kumbhal-garh was captured many a times and passed through various hands. First the Mughal forces captured the fort soon after Haldi Ghati and forced Maharana Pratap to seek shelter in the forests. The Marathas captured the fort and later returned it for a ransom of Rs. 70,000. Finally, in c. 1818, when the fort’s garrison was on the point of mutiny for arrears of pay, the East India Company stepped in and Todd secured the fort on paying a large sum of money to clear the arrears. And, finally one glorious morning of March it was seized by me…or vice versa.
(Note: The Banas is a river of Rajasthan state in western India. It is a tributary of the Chambal River, which in turn flows into the Yamuna, a tributary of the Ganges. The Banas is approximately 512 kilometers in length. Best time to visit the fortress is during the winters and especially if you love to adventure than safari to the jungles is highly recommended.)
Friday, February 19, 2010
It’s simple, lip smacking, and heavenly salivating refresher. Exaggerating…nah! Ask any Bengali brethren and they would describe the magical taste still lingering at the tip - never to forget. To start:
- Add puffed rice, hard green grams, sprouted beans, roasted peanuts, finely chopped onions, green chilies (as many as you could), cumin powder, aamchoor powder, and red pickle in a large salad bowl.
- Sprinkle mustard oil and salt and toss nicely till all mixed appropriately.
- For optional choices, add grated coconut and chanachur.
But this blog is not about my journey but written to sing the glory of Indian Vanessa Carlton (aka) – or Indian Railways, the underrate source to travel when you plan through India. With me, the compartment is filled with all wakes of life – age, sex, physical or mental attributes no bar and it makes a good combination.
- Mid-aged motherly figurines showing some serious underbelly cleavages catching up domestic rigors with their extra-loose men under-roos. The women serves the food, cleans the plates but need men to put the ‘bunk beds’ or escort them to toilet. (Gals, you’re not gonna’ have sex there.)
- A poker-face bespectacled ‘Bong communist’ with Fuzzy Muff below his unshapely nostrils lectured his son on every odd moral and societal living. Eh! Over the minute, he keep repeating himself again…and over again…uff! (From experience, I vouch all Bong fathers are Repeatus Everythingus and thankfully, I’m virgin. :P)
- A ruggie from rustic West rawring on his clients over the payment so forcefully they need stitches to seall their arselips. Gawd, will this guy ever stop doin’ it verbally and turn to real action. (It will be a sight to see ;)
- Three men on the adjacent bunk are so freakin’ gizmorgasmic that their moangasm make me nuts.
- A short little family from their 15-day vacation to South was quieter and nostalgic. The man of the family bought every odd thing to eat and the woman munches them in slow motion. The women is too frail and I thought she got no-food ever in life.
O! I must mention about the vendors on-the station, on-board, beside-your-seat: they’re everywhere but re-fabricated unlike the older times when they’re haggling and annoying: in fact, I missed their uncouthness. And, these paper cups are NOT what I expected…could anybody please give me the mud-pots that crackles when you drop them on the rails. (Stop cribbin’ bitch.)
Nevertheless, I got more train journeys to add. Hope to be compensated.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
It’s 13:52 (…A.M.) for self-realization. For past 6-hour, I Googitated to best to feed my membrane with pictures, blogs, and wateva’ I could get. In fact, I walked down the stairs of Varanasi and witnessed holy smoke circling up to sky. (YouTube special effect) Then, dipped in the icy-cold water while the February sun surfs through the glissy Ganges. O! I got a glistening (blush). I’ve counted the spokes of Konark’s famous wheel while it’s half-buried in the suplhury sand.
All this travel and I was hungry as a bungry so walked to the Tunday Kebabi for a lip-smacking platter. (In fact, I prepared a ‘to-eat’ list for every city and memorized the recipes for most.) Now, return to my fort at Mehrangarh too cool-off. Sun is basking in glory but I got enough of tan from beaches. (Of, Goa or Puri?) Forget that… (14: 40 and still A.M. for self-realization)
At sundown I got beach party at Goa with my blue Hawaiian thong. Tomorrow, I got Camel safari to do through the lovelorn Jaisalmer. Rest to update.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
I can’t wait to hate eat but…now live that. And, what a gesture to do. RSVP to Luncheon while I stand as amazing Mumford. Benign lip lickers smile back and hand over a list (in fact, a rolled out meter long paper) for wishes ‘to buy’. Oh, come on!
That’s make me irritatred. Some interesting and innovative wish lists:
- Offerenterings. Whaat? You folks wanna me Carry’ em around the country for months to deliver doorstep. I suggest, try it online – reliable and delivered afresh.
- Meters of Picasso chikankaris. Man…why don’t you make your wives a bra breaker; am sure you gonna reap more outta there.
- Pairs of Johpuri shoerikens. Did anybody said’ ya ‘barefoot’ and ‘bareback’ both are self-stimulating. Try practicing.
- Here’s an interesting read. ‘Marijuana’ from the fellow hippies I bump during my stay at Varanasi and Jaisalmer. Whaat? Sounds like vacationing at Marijuana County. And, what do ‘that’ mean…”hippies I bump’ (burp!).
- Gadgetry from Palika’s – that’s second-most favorite topping the chart. A word of caution. Nobody knows what you buy from Palika – the recipient will weigh it as ‘expensive’. (In fact, everybody fantasize of having the entire Palika feeds at hundred bucks or less.)
- Dollops of Ganges water. Ah! Holiness…peace.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Spend day droolin’ with Google Maps, a basic web mapping application and pin-up my routes. In fact, I been mapturbating on Google Earth and other Google Map since the morning and finally finished the first four lags of the journey route.
At first, it got all hotchpotches with my proclaimed mapscorificness till I deleted it and create a new one. (OK! I did that 7-times) but succeed. Now, I am posted on public domain…wondering how does that make any change to the world. Catch me at (http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF&msa=0&msid=108519497880101037863.00047eae7c888a16333d0) and puhleez don’t drop the poo.
Now, let’s go offline and check out for things to get done:
- I got Laundry fucked. It happens all the time. So, time to laundrying before I’m all set.
- My refrigerator is out of stock and desperately need a refill but I got Hamletian syndrome: “To be or not to be.”
- My travel bag has shrinked and can’t accommodate the best of clothing. (Hmph!) Dude, leave that sac at home, we need to be travellin' light. But what ‘bout my cosmetics
- Failed to calculate. Tried to estimate a few but Indian rickshaws, hotels, and auto-drivers don’t put their fare charts. How inconvenient.
- Where's the stash? The ATM machine smirks at me mockingly and throw an empty slip with smile. Salaries pending, invoices pending, bills pending…in fact, every both the debtors and creditors are struck with suspended animation and I’m waiting.
Hell’ya! How do I party now? (Jus’ throw a glue and be relaxed.)
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Wednesday, 3rd February 2010
First thing first, a month-long or more holidays is much awaited. Time to get pampered and no pets, no parents, no office loads or Sunday blues…I’m goin’ on a vacation till I’m filled and ask no more. February 16! “…a good day to take a trip, especially to the shore. Jupiter can bring you a gift or a financial bonus especially if you have personal planets or the ascendant at 2 to 8 degrees of Pisces.”
Oh! I ain’t a believer to astrology unless it’s a favorable predictionment as I could see here posted in one of the gimmicked website here. Anyways, it serves my purpose so, roll-on. In fact, after much hookus for a ‘incredible holiday” I settled down with something that ‘instinctive holiday’ for my happy feet. And, thus the journal enfolds.
Hmm…let’s check it out dude, here's what we'll do:
- Couple of train journeys…bliss! In fact, the common thread that holds my month-long waywardness is ‘The Great Indian Railways’. Zimbly…loves the ever-punching mobile geckos, over-shaped mid 40s and yea! (not to forget) all tramp-stamped Paris Hilton lookalikes.
- Pilgrimage. OK, even a pilgreen need some penance for being sex-fed for 33-long years. But honestly, I find pilgrimages are the best places for photoholics like me. Interestingly, my travel plan (unknowingly) is a big mess of color from various parts.
- Sun-and-Sand. And, no beer included.
- Family reunions. Though not much excited about that but forcibly and yea! A way to compensate for my four-year elusive stay from folks back home.
- Tastamalicious Sojourns. (Read that carefully and don’t misinterpret…there’s nothing bout’ ass here.)
Now, what I need. Let me check and keep informed.