A Heavenward Journey

A Heavenward Journey

By Joyer Noronha

November 19, 2011 For travel buffs, mad dreams are commonest ailments! They desire to drink from deep African falls, to campfire on poles and to smoke cigarette stamping the Himalayas. Yet, not often we find a tourist planning a sojourn to heaven (unlike Yudistir). Quite fortunately, you might just get to do this (well, almost) in a little German town. Situated in southern Germany, city of Ulm, has a thing or two about height. While it inspired one of its glorious sons ( Albert Einstein) to surmount the pinnacles of science, it also offers each of us, our best chance to climb highest distance from the ground ( pardon, mountaineers and telecom tower repairers). The cathedral at Ulm is worlds tallest church. Like most of its cousins spilled all over the European soil, it is a captivating structure with gigantic sky- piercing steeple. The best thing about this 450 feet tall edifice is that you are allowed to reach its spire by climbing the 768 steps that wind and twist throughout. Unchecked enthusiasm of a naïve tourist prompted me to take up the challenge without much thought to my state of preparedness. But it didn’t take too long to get enlightened. By the time I was on the fiftieth step I had learnt more about gravity than all my teachers and lecturers could teach me in sixteen long years with their impressive credentials, admirable efforts and frequent punishments. When you climb up, one and one doesn’t add up to two. Every next step is tougher and harsher than the previous. When you try to move, like a insecure lover mother earth pulls you back with redoubled effort into her bosom. But the exhilarating view outside weaves its spell. I felt like a triumphant toddy captor. People, seen in their top views, appear like balls on a huge billiards table. Cars seem like slow moving match boxes. The unique sight of pitch roofed houses from an unusual angle is another blessing. From here, you derive tremendous joy, watching the harmony of the houses in Ulm’s Cathedral alleys with their background. 100th step taught me a curious lesson about anatomy. Man’s legs have strange construction features of losing out bones and transforming into uncontrollable jelly when fatigued. Thanks to some rest, few drink breaks, and plenty of encouragement of my host and friend Joel Raja, I kept moving ahead. On the 168th step, I found a stout and nasty (as I found later) German in his forties coming down on the winding steps. We both had to adroitly handle our tummies to let him pass me. But, the blessed fellow got a hint or two about the state of my body and mind, and added salt to my wounds by saying “only 600 more” in his vulgar English. I have never been a great fan of Germans but this simply made me mad. Though I wouldn’t have disliked to roll him off the 166 steps that had to carry his bulky body, being a peace loving Manglorean, I ignored him and trudged ahead. Once we crossed the 500th step, body stopped complaining and nagging. Mind too went into a serene spell. Spirit Within me was now rising upwards sans those treacherous slaves of mine. The last two hundred steps were a supreme experience of exhilaration by watching nature from an undreamt perspective. From this splendid stage man and his life seemed just a bare minimal part in the scheme of existence. Nature and its elements came to center stage. The lush that patched the town and embraced its surroundings became obvious. The view of river Danube (second longest river in Europe) sauntering across the geography and the obvious dependency of human inhabitation on it were evident from here. Town planning, train course, extent of the city and its spread could be easily gauged from this high spot. Panorama of distant hills, view of the whole city, stays etched in your heart, when you see them from this angle. My heart was thankful to those souls and those times that conceived such wonders and also blessed the people who executed the schemes to a perfection enduring every test of time and nature. On my return journey I got another bout of scientific enlightenment. It vindicated Einstein’s formula E=MC square to me. During physical excursions , if you forget about your Mass (body) your spirit journey’s at the speed of the light and Energy just explodes in you into a outbound wave of cheerfulness.

Breathtaking Badami...

September 24, 2011
Dynasties, civilizations and great cities of the world often have their fortunes in cycles. They have their ups and downs. Some recover from the bad times but a few languish in misfortune for eternity after a devastating fall. The tale of North Karnataka City Badami is one such touching case.
During the early years of 7th century AD, it was one of the most prominent cities of the world. As Great Chinese traveler Hiuen Tsang proclaimed it was reined by India’s most powerful emperor.  Great Islamic scholar Al Tabari upheld it’s prominence by mentioning it in his chronicle of Kings and Prophets as the city to which great Persian King Khosrau II sent his emissary.
Here lived the warriors who wreaked havoc and miseries on powerful north Indian king Harsha‘s Elephant brigade and forced him to recognize Narmada as his border. Also, in all probability, from here were dispatched the powerful and efficient armies which nipped in the bud, the overt ambitions of all conquering Arabs, who tried to attack India (Thana, 643 A.D.) during the early periods of Islam’s glorious conquests (to keep them off the region for another six centuries).

Falling out of favour for more than 1000 years has taken its toll on Badami. Being in poverty ridden north Karnataka and being ruled by people ignorant of heritage and tourist potential for years has not helped it cause too.
We hear of Badami right from our primary school days and we are curious to visit it too. However, 500 Kilometers geographical distance and still larger cultural distance makes it almost impossible to visit the place. I, after my recent splurge into Chalukyan History, felt the irresistible need to visit and to have a feel of the place.
Badami looked a completely different place. A narrow road, a modest Bus stand, few dozen shops and handful of autos, taxis, tangas and tempos make Badami of today.
There are no kings, no warriors or courtiers. Only a few resting cows, roaming swine’s and street usurping herds of goats now rule the place. But, two kilometers away, perched on a huge almond colored hill are the last vestiges of Badami’s glorious past, the Chalukyan Cave Temples of Badami.

The Cave Temples
In the Badami temple complex, forty grand stone carved steps lead to the first cave temple and to visit a succeeding cave there are no independent steps. You need to visit the gods in sequence. For that matter, these are quite secular gods. First one is Shivite Cave, the last one is Jain cave while the rest belong to Vaishnavite deities.
In a way, it is a package tour to heavens. During your walk, gods present themselves to you in their most vibrant and forceful forms. You find them glorious and awe inspiring. Following were some of the most Stunning statures
Eighteen armed dancing Shiva is the first marvelous sculpture that you come across in the first cave. Lord of destruction performs the dance in almost animated manner covering array of dance postures carrying all his mythological implements. Nandi , Shiva’s vehicle, leans his head as Ganesh and his consort Parvathi join him in the dance.
Ardha narishwara is a master piece which is a harmonious merger of two diverse forms, as diverse as vertically split physical frames of a man and a woman. Unexplainable creativity might have undergone to imagine the form let alone carving it in the stones. Harihara is another of such fusion where Gods Shiva and Vishnu are merged into halves and which also portrays that the Vedic gods weren’t competitors as it happened centuries later in few of the subsequent Dravidian Kingdoms.
Varaha , the boar incarnation of Vishnu, majestically and gracefully lifting Lady-Earth out of the demonic land is a striking carving. Vishnu alighted on Sheshanaga and Vamana in his super form as Trivikrama spreading two of his legs on earth and sky and reaching out to Bali’s head with the third are captivating works. Partly vandalized Narasimha (man-lion) incarnation of Vishnu is a note worthy carving.
I was more fascinated by the statues of the lesser Gods!.  “Vidhyadara “ couple floating and hovering over the skies came close to look real. Their bond and relish have come out in a poignant and poetic manner; they very much looked any couple on honeymoon. Then there were the celestial love making couple whom I noted while stretching my neck to peer at the roofs. They didn’t seem much bothered by my presence.
Jain caves seem to have received special attention of the vandals. Faces of many of the statues here have been scratched.  Relatively less ornate but exceedingly graceful Jain Tirthankaras provide a diverse and sating sight. They are mostly busy meditating and solemnly posing. Some meditate long enough to allow the creepers to wind around their limbs.
Gigantntic lake “Agasthya “ and a complex of 7th century temples are added attractions. The statues in these temples are either damaged or missing but their exterior is grand. Buthanatha, Jambuling Complex of temples and the Hill top and lower Shiva temples are all grand examples of Chalukyan architecture.
Wonderfully carved statues are not the only things you find inside the 6th Century cave temples of Badami. There, in their shadowy womb, garbed in the serene silence, lay the glory of Chalukyan dynasty and divine beauty of ancient craftsmanship. Visit to the place, with an awareness of the historical background is likely to be a satisfying experience.

Bijapur 1: Tour Plan

Bagalkot to Bijapur 

 In my wish list of places to visit, Bijapur was perhaps little ahead of Afghanistan and Siberia and Bagalkot was little below them. Still, amidst my hectic commitments, I took time last month to have my first tete-a- tete with these two cities, as between these two not so fancied places lay everything I love. Places loaded with history, heritage and awesome sculptures; Badami, Aihole, Pattadakal, Mahakuta, Kudala Sangama etc abound in these two districts.
I must confess, post tour of Bijapour, I am a changed man. I regret having a lowly notion about their touristic importance and it also pinches me to firms up my resolve not to  make unfair judgement  on anyone; people or places.

Tour Plan
First day : Visit Badami, Banashankari,  Mahakuta, Aihole, Pattadakal
Second Day: Bagalkot to Kudala Sangama, Alamatti and reach Bijapur
( You would enjoy Kudala Sangama either if you are religiously minded or like me you have a place in your heart for Basavanna, If you don’t belong to either category better to travel directly to Bijapur.
They dont permit you to get too close with Alamatti these days too)
Third Day: City tour of Bijapur

Transport Facilities:
Its such a pity that there are no package tours from either Bijapur or Bagalokot to Badami, Aihole and Pattadakal.
You have to either take the KSRTC buses with uncertain timings or hire a private Taxi.
If you have a big group with you it’s highly recommended to hire a Taxi for whole day and do the tour of Badami- Aihole-Pattadakal in a single day. Unless you are a lover of architectural details desiring to probe very deep, a day would suffice your curiosity.
If you travel alone and you are gifted with some patience, travel by KSRTC plus autos tangas etc. I travelled as much as possible by KSRTC bus to have a feel of people, language and culture and economy and must confess got a load of it.

KSRTC buses in Bijapur are quite neat and travel well in time between destinations. Only issue is that there is no one to tell you when they would arrive to where you are waiting.

Distances  :
(In Kilometers, approximate)
Bagalkot to Badami 30
Badami to Pattadakal 22
Aihole to Pattadakal 13
Bijapur to Aihole 115
Aihole to Kamatagi 9
Kamatagi to Bagalkot 30
Bagalkot to Kudala sangama 30
Kudala Sangama to  Alamatti 15
Alamatti to Bijapur 70
Mahakuta to Badami 15
Badami Banashankari 5

Highlights

Badami- Aihole and Pattadakal feature three diverse presentations of glorious architecture of sixth century onwards. It’s a must visit to every traveler, every Kannadiga, let alone History/ architecture enthusiasts from around the world.

Bijapur is a splendid city. Its Adil Shahi infrastructure is much grander than I could ever imagine. City thoroughly deserves a full days sauntering for a casual tourist and has a treasure trove for longer period for a History enthusiast.

A Stroll Around Charminar

Link to the article in Daijiworld http://www.daijiworld.com/chan/exclusive_arch.asp?ex_id=1691 Hyderabad, a city in our southern neighborhood sports quite a few attractions to merit a family visit in a non-summer vacation (summer is punishingly hot). Ramoji Rao film city which provides day long entertainment, the mock snow world, the marble wonder Birla mandir, Golconda fort, Salar Jung museum full of medieval antiquities and most importantly, its sumptuous variety of both veg and non - veg food (including the famous Hyderabadi Biriyani) are few of them. But the true charm of the city and its life lay at and around its most renowned landmark Charminar. A bus from almost everywhere in the main city of Hyderabad takes you to Afzal Gunj and if you are not that scrupulous about travelling conveniences, a shared rickshaw is the most exciting mode to reach there. Mere five rupees can fetch you a prized seat beside the driver and you may take it provided your arms are strong enough to cling on to the metal during a bumpy ride. You feel like accompanied by a close family in an auto packed with six or seven people. I had six co travelers: 2 Burkah clad old ladies, two young tourists and two students. As the beautiful mansions pass, you feel like a privileged invitee to Nizaam’s private Banquet; taken along with your family in a jumping wheeled palanquin. Thanking the auto driver for zipping past a million pedestrians in no time, you turn and look for Charminar, only to find a unending series of shops like a gigantic line of Yachts floating in a ever swelling sea of humanity. The first striking fact here is life. Men and women saunter and shop here in such great numbers that it looks typical representation of India, so populous and overwhelmingly lower middle class. The petty shop keepers throw all the tantrums to grab the attention of potential customers. The number of people shopping and going up and down the street is astonishing, making it a unique extension of Hyderabad, which in no way is like any other of its quarters. In a nutshell: it is a gigantic shopping plaza for the masses. All the streets streaming out of Charminar quarter are full of shops. The total number is estimated to be 14,000. Laad bazaar area has plenty of shops for you to pamper your women. The bangles sparkle in their cases, colorful sarees glitter from a height, draping the headless hanging mannequins. Every colour in the world embodies a fabric and is up for display as a dress material. Half of the employees perform the attention grabbing act. It’s a bitter competition between these boys, the one with louder voice and more animated movements gets his prized catch; another prospective purchaser. In every by lane you find at least one shop looking like mini museum thanks to the age old items it offers for sale. Outside few of the shops you find items known to you only through your grannies bedtime tales. Some clock shops sport watches made by men who have died and companies which have wound up many centuries ago. The carts, both mobile and immobile are useful trade implements. Ice cream seller pushing his cart, cycle rickshawas (in different designs) plying goods is still vogue here at least to the petty shoppers. Age runs back a few decades if not more when you stroll in this quarter. Step ahead and look beyond the obvious. You’ll be stunned to note that every building that houses the petty shop is a gorgeous medieval mansion. Just wipe out the merchandize stocked in front of them in your mind’s eye and you realize that each of them is an elegant “Haweli” (mansion) deserving dwelling by a “Nawab” or a noble man if not by the King himself. If the administration was bit heritage literate and population pressures were much scanty, then the houses should have been on display and the goods at much distant place. But, the reality of the population supported by this trade might make it a task not possible for a few more decades if not a century. So, see the people, enjoy man’s triumphant survival instincts at their best. The sheer number of grand mansions is both astonishing and a powerful indicator to Hyderabad’s prominence and stature in its prime. The number of mansions was impressive and their condition though not immaculate, is still worthy of artistic appreciation. If Nizams in the heaven wish to take back the reign of the city back into their hands very little they’ll have to do at this quarter; find a alternate place for those poor souls and scrub all the dirt deposited by the passing of time and vomit of the autos. Move ahead a few more yards and one of the four grand arches (each located on prominent street leading to Charminar) welcomes you to bygone times. Suddenly, from the crowded background emerges a tall and majestic structure of stately charisma. The structure isn’t strikingly grand but its minimalist aesthetics and grand symmetry of four minarets gives it elegance thoroughly deserving the prominence that it enjoys throughout the planet. A European had termed it “Arc De Trompe” of the east, but the Napoleonic structure by a long way lacks the medieval charm that its oriental cousin. In 1591 when William Shakespeare was busy penning his Hamlet and first settlers were flirting around the coasts of what is now US, A Indian King, Mohammed Quli Qutb Shah ordered its erection. The dreaded Plague that haunted London and ravaged whole of Europe made its presence felt in Hyderabad too (surprisingly, for the dreaded disease the world was a small place even then). It is said that this edifice was built as a memorial for cure of Plague in the city. Once atop the Charminar, wonderful view of the places around unfold themselves and you also get a closer glimpse of the elegant looking outer carvings of the Minarets. The space inside at the top seems surprisingly vast. The King is said to have held Durbar and conducted his prayers. There are plenty of prayer spaces and a little mosque too is housed inside. Good view of the Mecca Masjid and Yunani Hospital are added rewards, so is the chance to see the countless battalions of rushing yellow roofed autos and the view of innumerable souls garbed in Human bodies. Amidst the buzz of sellers and honks of the Autos I reached the Masjid area but was bit skeptic to enter it. Firstly I have never entered a Mosque before and secondly I thought I looked a most ill fitting creature to enter a mosque ever. While every man coming out of the Mosque was decked in clean whites and sported a foot long beard, I was wearing most bizarre T-shirt, a quaint Jeans and there was not a strand of hair on my whole face. This made me fear that I would look too odd to be allowed to enter. Still the affable air gave me the courage and to my utter surprise no one seemed bothered by my presumably awkward presence. I felt like a man with clean whites and foot long beard myself. Atmosphere was solemn, calm and serene. It’s a wonder only a few seconds back I was at a place which could surely contend to the coveted title of noisiest place on whole earth and now I was reveling in silence. A stone from Mecca (from Aurangajebs times) and a watch from Switzerland were the two diverse relics. People prayed earnestly inside the mosque and sat and sauntered on its outer yard. The thing that touched me most was; the Charminar housing a Mariyamma temple at its base. It wasn’t built by Kings but it being thriving in a locality so overwhelmingly Muslim made me proud about India’s tolerant heritage that is mostly followed by masses and is being attempted to ruin by the selfish politicians and their blind followers. Yunani Hospital too is a elegant structure. I relished the beauty of its dome from outside. At night fall I kept walking every lane and by lane. All the famed Hyderabadi items made their presence felt. The thick layered “Burhewali Chai” , Street side Biriyani, Islamic version of Pundit “Hakeems”, Panwalah; all were there. Fate of poor old men forced to toil was very visible. Walking in the night in the ill lit by lanes made me feel either I was in a different country or in a different decade. But it all was mostly a comforting portrayal of life and its truth. As you keep moving away from Charminar, shops turn more sophisticate and the buildings-modern and slowly it dawns to you that you are back in to the reality. No matter you have shopped or not you are sure to carry relics of the place with you. Deeply impressed scenes of day to day life and its hustle-bustle, colors and magnificence of the dress materials and truly medieval aura of the surroundings are few of them. Visit this place to feel overwhelmed by life, its struggles and its beauty in its simplicity.

The Buffalo Race (Kambala) Detective

The Buffalo Race (Kambala) Detective

Like most in the twin districts, I too had heard about Kambala quite early in my childhood. But had never witnessed one, as Idea of losing precious night-sleep, just for knowing which among those dark and not so lovable animals would run fastest, never amused me. However, strange behaviour of some of my fellow villagers while talking about Kambala started nagging me. I was baffled with the overt excitement in their voices while talking about it. Often I saw sparkle in their eyes and also a strange undertone of joy and pride in their voices. This made me believe that Kambala had some special virtue that I had failed to figure out and I felt the need to know it. Hence, when my friends organised a visit to Aikala Kambala as part of a family get together, I joined them. I am glad, I did.

I was too keen to know the secret that made Kambala an exciting event. Hence, I rushed to the racing arena leaving my friends behind. The place was bustling with activity with air of festivity all around. People were present in hundreds. But the Buffalo presence was overwhelming. Almost every square inch of land had either a buffalo or its dung on it. I found no early clue for the secret that I was pursuing and pushed myself near to the racing fields. I chose a strategic location to watch. It was on one end of the slush filled long narrow twin racing fields, just beyond the finishing line.  Once settled, I started observing every development carefully, to get the answer. I squinted towards the far end, where all the action was. There were two pairs of buffalo's, each accompanied by a dozen of Homo sapiens. The men were struggling hard to make the beasts stand at the starting line but to their utter dismay the buffalos were not cooperating; moving abruptly every time they came close. The buffalos looked like unwilling groom of Hindi cinema, where as the assistants looked, dowry hungry parents. As this activity got stretched I opted to wander around. Men attired in traditional Mundu or Lungi were all around. Women, like the lizards of the deserts, had chosen sneaky places to sit and hide ( I wasn't sure from whom they were hiding, men or buffalos). It was a pleasant experience to see people of all categories, age and economy group together in the same place and similar dresses as all looked part of an extended family. It looked as if everyone from the village was present there, be it the poor daily wage labourers, the octogenarians who had stopped frequenting the markets, youth, naughty kids, or a man who had left for Mumbai a decade ago. It was then that I noticed first breakthrough for the day. At the Kambala, amazingly, every one looked equal. The poor-rich divide, which was so obvious on the streets, was absent or at least heavily diminished. There was a feeling of oneness. Every one appeared a human being, just a human being. Whether, this aura of unity had something to do with the Kambala Mystery? I wondered.   The fields around were vast and of impressive size.   Mother Nature had manifested herself in an extremely lavish manner there. A stream of water flowing as a Nala snaked across like a garland, proving to be the lifeline for the adjacent greenery. Trees surrounded the arena from all sides as if to form a green colosseum for our buffalo - gladiators.  The tall barren mountains in the back yard were dark and prohibitive to look like the places reserved for the Gods and sages to sit and watch the Kambala. These lush surroundings looked apt stage for holding the  age-old tradition. The comfort that was seeping into me gave  second enlightenment for the day.  I realised that serenity of the place coupled with the freedom that  it offered from the day to day rat race, were some priceless virtues that made Kambala so special to people. Then I noticed the guy on the mike, it took me very little time to know that his role assumes as much importance as that of the buffalo. Uttering dialogues which were both amusing as well as commanding, he kept the mood upbeat with vivid and imaginative commentary and also with some timely gems which he chose to deliver at regular intervals.  He was quick to spite anyone who would displease him be it a camera flashing journalists, slow moving competitor or even the disorderly spectator. I noticed that even while shouting at people he maintained the charm and regal touch in his language and dialogue delivery. You violate any rule and he'll make you feel as worthless as a three legged buffalo in a race. He played a key role by keeping the mood elevated, all the time. Moving in the outer yard I saw the team preparations. The team associates were busy in preparatory activities like feeding, washing, nursing and pampering the buffalos. They did it all with great dedication as if they were priests for those four legged Gods. Some of them were drunk but all were thoroughly enjoying what they were doing. The Jockeys, who run the buffalo, had standout personality. With distinctly athletic features their physique commanded instant attention from every onlooker.  Their naturally groomed frame looked the best prototypes for ideal and healthy human physique.  I would warn the Salmans and Shahruks of the world not to visit Kambala unless they are prepared for a terrible streak of inferiority complex seeing their six packs. Kambala is also a food fest with Tulunadu cuisine as its theme. All Illustrious South-Canara delicacies line up together like Ramba, Menaka, Urvashi in heaven. Be it the crunchy Charmuri or sensual Neerdosa, yummy Pulimunchi or the divine Kori Sukka, everything adds up to be an irresistible temptation. Not to forget the famous Kori Rotti, the best seller. Biting the crispy Charmuri in my mouth, I felt like shouting “Eureka”. The amazing feeling of satisfaction on the faces people who were munching, crunching, licking and biting those delicacies, made me feel I was quite close to solving the Kambala jigsaw puzzle and started visualising myself triumphant.  A sudden and progressively intensifying noise made by the crowd woke me out of my trance.  I rushed towards the finishing line and saw an amazing scene. The unruly grooms, I mean beasts, had finally obliged and the race had begun. The buffalos were let loose and were coming running at an awesome speed, with a wave of slush being created in the fields. It was a pleasure to watch the buffalos running. The dark and huge beasts were both fierce and majestic in their sprint, giving their best, extracting every ounce of energy. The muscular men behind them ran like Olympic sprinters. Their coordinated effort looked a wonderful scene to watch.  Within moments, the brigade had reached the finishing line. The noise made by the crowd reached the pinnacle, the man saying commentary was on top of his voice. The slush was getting thrown to meters height and the human faces around were full of smile and excitement. Then I noticed the most remarkable thing to happen for the day, surprisingly, I too was happy, on seeing one pair of buffalo crossing the finishing line ahead of the other!  In the end, my detective  mission was accomplished. The events made me realise the reasons that made buffalo race so important to people of my village and every village in Tulunadu. I learnt that some times, the process of getting the result could be far more enriching and significant than the result itself.  Kambala was not just a race but was an activity that helps Tuluva to revisit his cultural heritage and relive his real identity.  Along with being a tradition of Tulu culture it serves as an apt representation of the spirit and philosophy of life of people who live here. This realisation made me feel victorious, perhaps like a buffalo who had won the last race. I must add, I love the buffalos now, as much as I love their race.