No matter what country, place or religion, there is a subtle yet strong bond of culture between the coastal areas of the world. The fishing folks around the planet have incomprehensible similarities. Assuming that the spice of the lives of the fishing folk could give us just the dimension and freedom we were looking for, Arun and me set out from Malad Manori on his Enfield packed with Bisleri bottles, black and white rolls and a lust for life which tripled when we saw those gals with ‘legs’ on the launch that took us across to Manori.
I had half the mind to follow the legs and get to know them better but I said hey- that could wait. We rode through greens and grasses and tumbled down forts and stopped to click schools, churches, horses and a rocky cliff I tried to get on. Gorai served us omelettes and tadgolas. We filled Lassi and petrol at Bhayandar when the smooth ride started on this side of the highway. Stopping for occasional piss, we bamboozled into a country road on our way to Dahanu. There was a low-lit moon and fireflies and smell of warm grass in the night as we stopped to snack at a village shop. The night was lit with stars and the rustle of grass whispered to us. It was too good to be real, it took us 2 hours to reach a real restaurant where Arun guzzled his Kingfisher, and I stuck to my egg masala, being a renegade vegetarian.
That night we bunked in a local lodge besides a Sai Baba temple on the Dahanu beach. Since the next day, we were planning to go to Bordi beach.
Next day early morning, we hit the misty road passing cool windmills, cow carts, more beaches, heavy breakfast and reached Umergaon – the gate way to Gujarat, Umergaon is a cute place with broken brick houses and old, old schools that go back 1901. We could not click the school since the principal was an asshole. We struggled back through a jetty in a trawler where we literally had to hold the 300-kg bike with prayers. We reached the other side of the Dahanu creek, the smell of fish inspired my friend, and we were off searching for fried fish, which came to us at Boisar.
I stuck to my patent egg masala and Arun guzzled his Kingfisher. The road back was hot and dusty with occasional Lassi and iced towels for gratitude
Monthly Archives: September 2005
Nothing can give you greater pleasure than watching a seagull in mid-flight as it flaps its wings ever so gently, gracefully in the most romantic manner, just a few feet away from you. The Seagull goes on to glide over a clear, green, transparent ocean( and you see the fish inside) on a bright, hot afternoon. Cool. Freedom is accentuated by birds and envied by humans. ‘As free as a bird’ would make a handy cliché. Strangely, it reminds me of a peacock on a misty morning in Rajastan just a hand away dancing, leaping, flying.
Freedom and travel are highs, which elevate you beyond spirits or drugs. The Dubai creek has exactly stood where it is for centuries with small markets (souks) on either side, where the locals resided and sold spice, water, fruits to pilgrims who stop-gapped their way to Mecca, Saudi Arabia. The creek divides Dubai into Deira and Bur (the other side) Dubai. Deira is more cosmopolitan and Bur Dubai is India. Shit I just don’t seem to lose my countrymen, no matter where I go.
Dubai is just another international city with well-constructed and very contemporary architecture, with parks in their proper places and between roads, with tasty Lebanese restaurants on the roads, pollution free, non stinking and noise resistant. The Police are handling the law and order without much corruption. Looks-wise, it’s like Bangkok. I guess Bangkok got rich on Arabic money. Dubai is the least Islamic province in the Middle East. If you get pork and wine (which is haraaam in Islam) it’s an absolute wonder. Pig is the ultimate sacrilege in the least of un-holiness. Yeah, Dubai is nice with its sprawling malls, ice-rings for skating, swimming pools, discos and those super discount during the colourful light and crackers Dubai Shopping Festival. But as soon as I think of going overboard, I remember the bloke in the customs in India, where corruption is an established pride. What a shame!
The Jumeira Beach is beautiful and rather baywatch-ian. The winter is just departing, leaving the mist for a hotter steamy and humid summer. As I walk on the creek side I see a few losers, sitting and staring at the sea. The losers sit and stare, while the winners travel in BMWs, cultivate artificial accents, go to discos and listen to music they don’t understand, visit Russian whores, celebrate AIDS with their wife and family. Oh the jetsetters!
Sharjah is bigger than Dubai and Fujeira is a rugged mountain trail all the way to Sultanate of Oman with rich red sand desert in between. I’m told that the redness of the soil is a good predictor of oil content. Ajman is a free port so drinkers can buy duplicate wines. I’m yet to visit the Krishna Temple, the museum, the gold shouk, Heritage village, Sharjah and bits and parts here and there. I’m yet to say hi to the Filipino who stays bang opposite my house, the one with amazing legs.
The radio FM is strong here with a million Arabic channels, three English and two Hindi channels, which are actually better than the one back home. Which is not saying much anyway. Arabic is spoken in over a dozen and a half countries. Try Yemen, Oman, Saudia, Sudan, Iran, Iraq, Egypt, Lebanon and some parts of Kerala. Global village is a fair with all the countries participating with life size tourist attractions of their country. Kuwaiti forts, Chinese houses, Red Indian wigwams, Charminar etc. It’s massive. Dubai is nice.
I heard Bombay is trying to hold a Shopping Festival. That could pose a few minor problems. Where will the travellers stay? How will the beggars suck the life out of them? And more importantly, where will the Biharis and the UPites shit?
Kerala is rightfully one of the 10 best destinations of the millennium. During the monsoon of 2000, we headed for Kerala on an impulse. Originally, the plan was to go to Himachal Pradesh, which is a dream come true for campers and hikers. But impulse is fun, like life on the edge in a mini version. We took the Konkan railway, which has nothing less than 200 misty waterfalls, endless coastlines and 100s of noisy tunnels. I suggest earmuffs for the journey. Interesting food! Sam, Sonali, Kashyap the hubby and little me reached Ernakulam at 4.00 in the morning and shacked in a nearby hotel. The dawn saw us at the coast of Cochin, gorging on idlis and malagapuddi. Ernakulum is a twin city of Cochin. Alleppey, of the Dil Se fame has exotic backwaters. We went in a small ferry paddling through the Venice of the East, through rope-makers, white birds, small bridges, rice fields, dead cats and curious people. I wonder if the curious people killed the cat. Villagers were staring at us, trying to decide on our species. Later, we had a 35-rupee local meal that consists of rice, sambar, rasam, aveeal, pysum, and tair on a long banana leaf, in a five star hotel at Ernakulum. They serve you hot water, which is absolutely great for your stomach. After the meal, we took a luxury boat around Cochin City. We saw the Dutch palace, some exotic fishing nets, some cute Jews at the synagogue etc. Man, our country has been invaded by every Ching, Dick and Scary! In the evening we went walking around the city and culminated it by watching the worst Nick Nolte movie ‘Gone in sixty seconds’. I fell asleep in 60 seconds and was gone through the rest of the flick. Next day we took off to Thekkady, the wild, wild country, which is on the border of Tamil Nadu some 7 hours from Ernakulum by bus. We had food at Kumidy and went up to Thekkadi, which is an absolute animal country. You are not even allowed to walk around alone. The boat ride through the jungle on both sides had wild boars, tigers, elephants, sambars, deers, pelicans and some ants I’m sure. I felt like TinTin or one those guys at the National Geographic or Discovery. We had the option to sleep in a machang that is a watch tower in the middle of the forest. But mosquitoes literally give me sleepless nights. Sam, being more Canadian in his approach, went for elephant rides. As for me we have road jams in Mumbai because of some elephant every 18th day. A night and some exotic food at the Periyar lodge, later we went down by the bus through tea and rubber plantations to Kottayam, took a train and went back to Ernakulum, our first crush. Actually Kerala has seaside on one end and the hills on the other and the hills are generally alive with the sound of music. But wait a minute! What had I come to Kerala for? I wanted to sleep in a clean river and drink coconut milk. So quickly we took a second look at Ernakulum. St. Francis Church, Dutch palace and dipping in a local well (it was getting hot as hell). In the evening we headed to Malayatoor, where the Periyar river starts. We got down at Aluva went to Kaldi ate some Punjabi food. Went up to Malayatoor. Periyar is the widest, clearest, sexiest and longest river in Kerala. In the next 3 days we dipped in the river for 6 hours, stayed by a lake hotel, where we were the only residents for 2 nights, on the last nights some drinking party was held in the adjacent room. We climbed up a old church 8 kms up at 65 degrees to reach a 300 year old church of St. Thomas. St Thomas happens to be one of the apostles sent by Christ and reached Kerala in 0072 AD and thus Keralite Catholics are the original Syrian Catholics. The Mangoloreans and the Goans were converted by the British or the Portuguese like their East Indian brothers. The old church is called Ana-something -or-the-other which means “The church hit by a wild elephant”. On a wall you can clearly see an impression of a wild elephant. We also visited the Adi Sankara Charya temple. ASC is the 13th incarnation of Shiv. The 12th was Hanuman. The 11th is Surya. This information was giving to us by Surya (not the sun god) but an educated guide, who is a retired bank officer, absolutely free-of-cost. ASC was born in the compound, the only son to a lady who was widowed when Adi was 4 years old. At 6 when he had decided to lead a life of an ascetic, he told Bramha the creator to come in the form of a crocodile and hold on to his leg in the Periyar to obtain the permission from his mother to renounce the world. Luckily this happened 1200 years ago and there are no crocs in the Periyar anymore. We also saw an elephant-training centre on the other side of the Periyar, (Periyavoor) where cute little elephants took their bath. Well Kerala isn’t God’s own country for nothing.
