Vrindavan

As the day passes by..
in the cosy sarai..
potentially waiting, for a cup of chai..
I heave out .. and.. sigh.

eras have passed it seems..
leaving this place untouched..
its the same old gali
the same old nukkad...

radhe radhe..says the little boy
offering me the magical words
along with a kulhhad full of chai

breathing through the vintage halls..
this city of magic.. the city of lords
brajbhoomi.. where Gods were born

the touch of 'now' is seeping in
tones of a bhajan..emanate..
as the mobile rings..
loudspeakers blaring the new hit remix

kajrare kajrare.. tere kare naina krishna..
.. :)

here i belong..
it is here that i am from..

Submitted by: Ankita vrindavan wali, from Mumbai

Writing the River

It’s six in the morning and outside my window the sun's somewhere behind the haze that hangs over the Mula-Mutha river. Three hours I slept last night, yielding dream to mosquitoes and memories, and I've been awake since two and the river's in my head now, flowing chrome in a mist of braindust.

They tell me I live in a Buddha Field since my apartment shares this neighborhood with Osho's Ashram. In a Buddha Field, they say, you can see forever. I know, in this moment, I can feel Forever.

I'm going to build a future from this moment's past, but where am I now? I think I'm lost. Not lost to myself, for I am always where I am. I think I'm lost to my yesterdays and lost to my tomorrows. In Pune, in this Buddha Field, tomorrow and yesterday are stories I must tell myself. How should I tell them and when should I begin?

This is what India does to me. I come here, each time, to lay a concrete road of actions. I chart my mindscape, I timeline my intent, I raise my pickax and I strike. No impact. My axe pulls me through the soil of my beliefs, out the bottom and off the edge. And I cannot remember why I began.

But I can hear the koyel bird in the banyan tree, and a raven at the river’s edge, and a thousand sparrows, and human voices. Voices in language that molds the medium; that holds fast the reins, slowing time to a wistful walk.

A Parsi lady asks the chowkidar (night watchman) something she needn't ask, and the chowkidar tells her something he needn't tell. But I know it's not in the asking nor in the telling. For this is their ritual at dawn as the raven takes flight, and an autorickshaw whines in the distance, and last night a mosquito buzzes my dream.

I'm awake inside myself, but I'm asleep in India 's vision. And I cannot scream.

Submitted by: Roy P, Pune
Image by: Vibhanshu A, Bangalore

And loads of thanks to Divya for all the help and encouragement *hugs*
(who will henceforth be called Diya ;) )

I am India

A lovely video I found on YouTube, closer to my heart because they show the TELCO assemply plant in action, I think it was shot in Pune. Did you know TISCO has set up the biggest cold rolling plantl in the whole of Asia in Jamshedpur. For me the Tatas are synononymous with the emerging face on India ever. Maybe an emotional post about them would follow in a couple of weeks ;) Till then I leave you with the video...

A little help...

... goes a long way.

PostIndia has been evolving ever since the day it started and the goals have become a little less obscure. There has been a lot of activity offline, talks and discussions with couple of folks, travels and plans for future excursions. But online response has been extremely tepid, contrary to our expectations. We would really appreciate if you could spread the message of PostIndia through word of mouth. We also look forward to your contributions towards this projects. Send in whatever you have, talk to you parent and ask them to write letters to us if they want to talk to us about anything.

To publicize this project we have come up with a PostIndia logo. Please cut and paste the following piece of code in the links section if you believe in this project and want to promote it on your site.

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Publicity Poster:


Put up this poster on your blog, on your office bulletin board, you college gazette and where ever it might catch people's fancy. You can get a high res version of the poster by clicking on the image or here. Any help shall be really appreciated :-) Drop me a line if you do so.

Hampi and Hampi Utsav - A photographic journey

Hampi, the seat of the famed Vijayanagara empire was the capital of the largest empire in post-mogul India, covering several states. The empire reigned supreme under Krishnadevaraya, the Emperor. The Vijayanagara empire stretched over at least three states - Karnataka, Maharashtra, and Andhra Pradesh.

Saint Vidyaranya established the seat of Vijayanagara empire in 1336 A.D, with the help of his devotee disciples Hakka and Bukka. The empire later became famous for its support towards renovation/reconstruction of temples through out India. It also became renowned for re-establishment of Indian culture, its support for music, art and literature. With the prime purpose of caring for the people and their welfare, this empire stretched physically covering Karnataka, Andhra and Maharashtra and became a by-word for golden rule.

Although in ruins today, this capital city once boasted riches known far beyond the shores of India. The ruins of Hampi of the 14th Century lies scattered in about 26 sq. km area, amidst giant boulders and vegetation. Protected by the tempestuous river Tungabhadra in the north and rocky granite ridges on the other three sides, the ruins silently narrate the story of grandeur splendor and fabulous wealth. The splendid remains of palaces and gateways of the broken city tells a tale of men infinite talent and power of creativity together with his capacity for senseless destruction.

The destruction of Vijayanagar by marauding Moghul invaders was sudden, shocking and absolute. They reduced the city to ruins amid scenes of savage massacre and horrors beggaring description.

Held in the month of November the annual Hampi Festival is an important cultural event. Admist rocks and ruins that dates back to hundreds of years the festival is a celebration of traditional music, dance, theatre and other artistic performances. With events for visitors of all ages, attractions and entertainment includes everything from children’s puppet shows to flamboyant parades. Finishing each day with a fireworks display, this is a lively event that attracts visitors from across the region

Submitted by: Mayur Channagere, Bangalore
All images are © Mayur Channagere

An evening at Charminar

Charminar, Hyderabad

Dawakhana

Colorfully lost in time

"Chudiyan le lo", Bangles at Charminar

Camaderie - Afzal, Hussain and Rehan

The Charminar is as much the signature of Hyderabad as the Taj Mahal is of Agra or the Eiffel Tower is of Paris. Often called "The Arc de triumph of the East", Mohammed Quli Qutb Shah, the founder of Hyderabad, built Charminar in 1591 at the centre of the original city layout. Legends has it that it was built as charm to ward off a deadly epidemic raging at that time.The Charminar is a square edifice with four grand arches each facing a cardinal point that opened once upon a time into four royal streets. At each corner stands an exquisitely shaped minaret, more than 55 mt. in height with a double balcony. A bulbous dome crowns each minaret with dainty petal like designs at the base. A beautiful mosque is located at the western end of the open roof and the remaining part of the roof served as a court during the Qutub Shahi times.

Deepak and me took an autorikshaw to the Charminar and I was overwhelmed by the cacaphony of colors and riot of sounds. The shops are layed out in layers around the minaret, like leaves of an onion. The outmost shops display brightly colored chunnis and salwar-kamee overlayed with intricate lace and zari work. Then followed the lane selling the bangles and itar - the persian (?) perfume. I am yet to see a more gaudy and varied collection of bangles anywhere in the world. The penultimate layer had lot and lots of jewellers putting up their wares on display. The glitter of the jewellary added a shimmering magnificance to the fading day.

The Minar itself is flanked by lots of eateries and shops selling dry fruits all the way from Afganistan. We walked into a place that was selling faluda.It looked really old with murals made out of mirrors adorning the place. We didn't quite like what we ordered, but next time you are around just walk in to have a look at the glass work. One the left hand side of the minar is a mosque that's supposed to house upto 50,000 people at a time. The guard, Muhammad was kind enough to let us in and click some photographs even though it was much past closing time.

Then we chitchatted with a really old cloth peddlar called Karim. He told us about the davakhana and some tidbits about the place and its history. He also directed us to a placed called Sadab that apparently sells the best biryani in that area. We loafed around quite a bit and finally turned up at Shadab. The kebabs there were really good, I cant say the same about the biryani. To top it off we finished with Irani Chai, really sweet and refreshing.

Then we called it a day and headed home :-)

Why I love India

I love India, because in some ways I am a lot like Her.

Focused in some areas, random and wild in others. Huge on safety in some, reckless in others.
Always under construction.

Here's some of what I've learned in my three months in Pune:

Agree in principle, then go out and do whatever you want. Hope in the face of hopelessness.

India is the last refuge of absolutes, so say, "Yes, absolutely," as often as you can. "No problem," works equally well.

"Come tomorrow," is the national chant.

Don't question why this works, it just does: Freely admit to failure, then shake your head in every direction, and smile; it's your ticket to success. 'Absolutely' avoid arrogance, unless you're at a party in Bollywood.

Plan for the future, but count on coincidence to see you though.

Take comfort in being the underdog; you'll create abundance in your everyday life. Laugh when you "should" be crying, cry when others laugh. They will consider you normal.

Pay close attention to what goes on under the table, or when the lights go out. It could be a mosquito.

Never disturb a traffic policeman at a busy intersection. He's increasing his net worth, and traffic jams are not his concern.

So, guess at what's in front of you when you're nearing the intersection, then lean on your horn and step on the gas. God lives in India, and you'll come out alive.

Say the word "Basically," before every sentence. For variety, use, "Generally speaking." Use "As a matter of fact," when you don't have a clue. When you're reasonably sincere, prefix your statement with, "To tell you the truth ..". No, this does not imply that at other times, you lie.

"At the end of the day," has arrived in India (it was in decay when I left America), and "Bottom Line" is making the rounds at suave dinner parties. My personal Indian favorite is, "Don't think you're too great," but I have not heard it in ages. I'll hug the next person who says it to me, or to anyone else.

Ignore road signs – they are only suggestions.

Now here's something that took me completely by surprise – nay, by shock. A normally risk-averse and conservative Indian will hop onto a two-wheeler and streak straight for the space in front of your speeding car. He/she will not look right or left, not look at your car, nor look at you. In an act of supreme faith, the person will entrust life and limb to you. It is therefore up to you to either blow your horn or slam on your breaks or swerve into someone else.

In India, rules are made to be followed, so don't follow them. Bend them when you can; but if you're smart, you'll break them. When caught, plead ignorance. When that fails, blame someone else. Finally, pay the bribe.

Never admit fault. I don't know if this one really works, because no Indian I know has attempted the opposite. If they have, they won't admit to it.

When everything fails, fantasize. In the midst of tragedy, break into a dance. And sing.

When a gutter overflows, imagine you're in Geneva, and when the temperature sizzles over 40, slip into a windcheater that says University of Colorado. Wear shades.

Never admit to being an NRI. Discover why, at your own peril.

Board an elevator seconds before a power cut; overtake on a blind curve; break for elephants, camels and cows.

Fall in love with India, regardless of your gender. She's the friend you never had, the lover you craved, the teacher you yearned for.

And she'll never leave you.

Submitted by: Roy P, Manhattan, Pune and now Goa

Ban of the Sundari Trees - I

Sundarbans: A place so remote that it exists at the fringes of one's imagination. Someplace distant and shrowed in the twilight zone of knowlege and ignorance. Welcome to a land where the distinction between land and water seems to give way. Where imagination and reality are so entwined it hard to say whether one is awake or dreaming. Welcome to the land of the Royal Bengal Tigers.

Sundarbans is one of the biggest deltas in the world where three great rivers, the Ganges, Brahmaputra and the Meghna meet the Bay of Bengal. This region silted by these rivesr is the biggest mangrove forest anywhere in the world. The name comes from the Sundari trees that grow in this strange place where the distinction between the river and the sea is as inconsistant as a line drawn in sand. This marshy region stretches across eastern parts of India and southern deltaic parts of Bangladesh down to the Bay of Bengal.

It is a complicated network of rivers, channels, creeks and estuaries that are extremely difficult to navigate. Most of it is out of human reach, its inaccessibility adding to the charm and mysticism of the place . The magnificent flora and fauna of Sundarbans not only have made this place a rich biodiversity zone but serve to save the mangrove ecosystem and the hinterlands from uncertain natural calamities. The trees are the first deterrant that quell the rising waves and changes in the wind system.

The Sundarbans is best described as a combination of wetlands and jungle, its many deltaic islands are surrounded by highly saline water and characterized by their changing forms. This is a reqion that gets flooded twice in a day, with the water rising upto a level of 10-15 feet submerging islands during the high tide. The only thing that stands testimony to the fact that there exists land beneath the vast expanse of water are the tips of some of the tallest mangrove trees. Sometimes when the water receeds it swallows a part of the land and sometimes it throws up another piece that had no existance before the tide came in. Borrowing from Amitava Gosh, its a place where there is no history as it gets flooded and erased every passing day. Most of it. A flourishing island lies beneath the vast expanse of water, a commercial centre stands in the middle of a meandering river. What remains are stories of the lands, narrated by those that have lived to tell them. The stories of Bobbibi and Dakkhin Rai. Bonbibi is the benevolant goddess who protects the villagers from the atrocities of Dakkhin Rai woh manifests himself in the typhoons, the flashfloods and of course the tigers. These tigers are well-known for the substantial number of people they kill; estimates range from twenty and eighty people per year. They are the only man-eating tigers left in the world.

In terms of biodiversity, the Sundarbans contrasts the other large mangrove forests for its extraordinarily diverse wildlife and designated as a UNESCO’s World Network of International Biosphere Reserves since 2001. Apart from being the home of the Royal Bengal Tigers it is also the natural habitat of spotted deer, crocodiles, jungle fowl, wild boar, lizards, gangatic dolphins, rhesus monkey and an innumerable variety of beautiful birds. Migratory flock of siberian ducks flying over thousands of sail boats loaded with timber, gopatta, fuel wood, honey, shell and fish further add to the serene natural beauty of the Sundarbans. The alternating cycles of fresh and saline waters support some species that do not exist in any other parts of the world.

The only way of transportation in these lands is through water. One can reach Port Canning by taking the Canning Local from Sealdah station in Kolkata. From Canning hire a boat to Gosaba. Take a rickshaw in the island of Gosaba and go to Pakhirala. Cross the river by ferry and reach Sajnekhali Forest office and Tourist lodge. This is where your journey begins.

Event: I am planning to visit the Sundarbans in the beginning of next year. If someone has been there I would be really grateful for any tips. If someone wants to hop along I would be more than welcome.

Malgudi and Swami

For decades the two brothers, R.K. Lakshman and R.K. Narayan have held a sway over the Indian intellect. The story of India can never be complete without the mention of the make believe town of Malgudi and the daily strips of 'You said it'.

Malgudi has come to be an El-dorado for the people of India, it is as fictious a place as can be though it rings true with as much reality through its people and its incidents. The story of this sleepy town is one that would depict very aptly the comings and goings of most towns in the southern parts India.

In Narayan's words himself: "Malgudi was an earth-shaking discovery for me, because I had no mind for facts and things like that, which would be necessary in writing about Malgudi or any real place. I first pictured not my town but just the railway station, which was a small platform with a Banyan tree, a station master, and two trains a day, one coming and one going. On Vijayadasami I sat down and wrote the first sentence about my town: The train had just arrived in Malgudi Station. "

For those of us who were in love with the televised version of these books, the mention of Malgudi evokes the memories of Swami, his friends and their pranks on the banks of Sarayu. The ratteling red bus that ferried people to and fro from this microcosm of Indian existence. The Kalighat Lane and the Grove Street. The Lawley extenstion and of course the statue of Sir Lawley that did rounds of the town. The various shops on market street, with the printer and the hunter who killed people with just the slap of a hand. The holy procession with the elephant that meandered through Malgudi.

Many a times I have passed a station with a banyan tree and I have always wondered if I ventured out beyond the station would I land up in another Malgudi ? I can hear the laughter of Swami, Mani and Rajam and the tune of 'ta na na nana nana na' wafting in the distance.

Rush Hour

Howrah Bridge, Kolkata. 10:30 PM

Howrah Junction, Kolkata. 10:45PM

Kolkata busted with life when most cities in India go to sleep. This rich compositions exhibit the dynamic nature of the scene. The smiling girl, the hawker selling bananas, the populance all exude liveliness.

Submitted by: Debasish Mohanty, Durgapur

The Ganges

Back at college I had planned an escapade with my roommate Rishabh. We had coaxed a fisherman to accompany us on the boat from Kanpur to Allahabad on the Ganges. The journey would have taken 4 days and 3 nights. Have u ever been on a river in the night? Its an amazing experience. Total darkness all around, and you are surrounded by water. The land is far enough for you to swim and reach and in the darnkness it becomes almost impossible to locate the shore. It has an eerie kind of enchantment. Anyways all arrangements were made and a day before we were supposed to leave Rishabh mother found out about it, and me acting like the nice guy as I always do, talked Rish out of the plan :-(

On the banks of Ganges in Varanasi
Image taken from Ramin

Some how I have this fascinstion for the Ganges, I lived for a couple of years in Calcutta when I was a kid, then I moved on to Patna, and then finally to Kanpur. I have stayed on the banks of the Ganga for almost half of my lifetime and for some reason I tend to keep moving closer to the source. Sometime in the future I would like to settle down in Rishikesh if there is anything like settling down for me ;-) Another things I liked about the All India Trip was the fact that I would intercept Ganges at so many places. The river meanering away in the distance dotted with small fishing boats. The sun setting on the horizon, painting the entire sky with a golden hue and reaching out into the river to quench its thirst. And once it has satiated itself darnkness breaking out. The dark sky daubed with orange puffs of clouds. The chants of the temples wafting on the river and countless diyaas starting their fleeing journey on the waves of the river...

Devī Sureśvarī Bhagavatī Gange,

Tribhuvanatārinī taralatarange,
Śankaramaulī vihārinī vīmale,
Mamamatirāstām tavapada kamale.

Submitted by: Vibhanshu Abhishek, Bangalore