Breathless in Ladakh

Full set of photos here

And so everyone said; be careful when you get there. Don't move at all on the first day, don't do this, don't do that.... some even went to the extent of saying that you'll start feeling breathless just as you land at the airport. The wife promptly had dreams of collapsing just when she got off the airplane's ladder... clutching her throat and dying like the villain's henchmen in C grade Bollywood movies when exposed to mustard gas.

But you know what? They were somewhat right... I was breathless even before we got off the plane. It started just as we broke through the dense cloud which stretched all the way from Delhi and I had the first glimpse of the land they call Ladakh - the name literally means 'The land of high passes' and over the next week or so, this land took our breath away.


Day 1 & 2

Making our way through the cutest airport terminal I'd ever seen, we got ourselves a taxi to takes us to our hotel - Omasila. A pretty hotel nestled in the Changspa area of Ladakh, we were greeted to some of the most stunning views of the Stok sub-range of the Himalayas. The Stok Kangri peak towered over the Leh valley, with most of the higher reaches covered with a generous helping of snow.

My own experience in high altitude climbing had taught me to take it easy always on the first couple of days, so the entire group basically chilled out in the hotel playing Taboo & Teen Patti.

The next day, we headed out after lunch and our first objective was the Stok Palace, across the river Indus. The Palace along with the adjoining Gompa (monastery) were built in the early 19th century by the Ladakhi King Tsedap Namgyal. The descendants of the Ladakhi Royal family including the former Queen of Ladakh reside here, having moved out of the main palace built on a cliff above Leh. Part of the palace complex has been converted in to a museum displaying artefacts from the history of Ladakh.


There is a small cafeteria with open seating overlooking the Indus valley and Leh town - but it wasn't operational while we were there. A burly dog was sunning himself on one of the palace walls and he proved to be a wonderful model for our photography session. A series of small stupas dot the landscape behind the palace, permanently disfigured by the hideous TV mast erected by Doordarshan.

We drove back to Leh, and headed for the Shanti Stupa. A modern structure, it was built in the 80s in co-ordination with a Japanese Buddhist organization and inaugurated by the Dalai Lama. Of more interest would be the small temple just below the Stupa where we spent a surreal 15 minutes with the resident monk carrying out the evening prayers. His deep baritone resonated along with the slow throbbing of the dream, literally elevating us to another level as we sat there with our eyes closed.

Having skipped lunch, we stuffed our faces with obscene amounts of Maggi served by the small canteen near the temple and then went up to the Stupa. The building itself is very unremarkable, and stands out as an aberration in this ancient land. However, the views from the Stupa as best described as stunning. The entire Leh valley, with the Indus flowing by quietly is visible from here. Hordes of tourists were simply sitting there, legs dangling across a 300 foot drop, drinking in the view. We spent more than a few hours up there ourselves, until it got really cold and windy so decided to head back to the hotel for a warm cuppa chai.

On this first day itself, I had run out of adjectives to describe the ethereal beauty of this place. Usually I am never at a loss of words, but Ladakh had silenced me. That day itself I had been convinced that no words or photos could ever do justice to that place unless you saw it for yourself.

But two things stood out more than anything else. One was the amazing palette of colors, that had been used by the Creator while painting this place. Colors I had never seen before, colors I never knew existed. For someone used to the drab colors of Delhi and its dull grey skies, Ladakh felt as if someone used to wash it with Surf each morning before everyone else got up.

The other was the play of light and shadow across the countryside. Clouds moving across the sun created created a dramatic effect across the rows of hills - it felt as if the Painter up there used to draw a masterpiece but grew dissatisfied with it five minutes later. So he recolored it to draw another masterpiece, and another and another all day long. We kept talking about it late into the night and each day to follow and never get bored of it.

Day 3
The destination for the next day was the Khardung La pass. 'La' is the Ladakhi word for a mountain pass and Khardung La is reputed to be highest stretch of a motorable road in the world at 18380 ft. While many dispute this height & record, I don't care too much about it. The fact that a road exists across these extremely inhospitable mountains and that there is someone to offer you hot Kehva when you reach the top is good enough. This road is the lifeline for the residents of the Nubra Valley and specially for the brave Indian soldiers up in the Siachen Glacier. The previous day we had seen a long column of army trucks come down this road and their sheer numbers suggested the importance of this road.

Just as we got there, a howling wind grew into a minor snowstorm and drove perfectly formed snowflakes inside my collar. The temperature was nearing -10 Celcius and the wind chill made it worse.... or was it? In fact it was super fun !! I was dressed in a just a fleece sweatshirt and was plodding through 6 inches of powdery snow in sandal clad feed with the abandon of a hippopotamus in a river, when I was summarily dragged to the souvenir store by the wife and made to wear a wool cap, muffler and gloves too, had the shop not run out of them. The visit to the souvenir shop was worth it as now I also possess a t-shirt which says 'Khardung-la' 18380ft - I was there!'.

With the storm getting worse, our driver decided it wasn't really a great idea for us to be cavorting around there for too long. Pretty soon, we were packed in our car trying to make our way downhill in the blinding snow. With everything around us white - the road looked even narrower than it was. For some weird reason, all I could of think of was the scene from Lord of the Rings - 1, where the fellowship is trying to get across Mt. Caradhras and the snow storm generated by Saruman foils them. In fact I was pricking my ear to try and discern any evil spells being read underneath the howling of the wind.

Fantasies apart, things improved once we got below snow-line as the snow storm petered out into a drizzle. Back in Leh, we had lunch at a restaurant called Wonderland, down the street from our hotel. Pretty decent food, but the hummus & pita sucked !! It was much better the previous day at Cafe Jeevan a little but up from Omasila. Overall, food in Leh would not get more than a 4.5/10 from me. The items in the menu are almost the same as the one's I have seen on a beach shack in Goa (minus the sea food) or any cafe in McLeodganj or Pushkar. I guess it makes the typical tourist who does the India (the Agra / Delhi / Jaipur, Dharamsala / Manali, Leh, Goa, Hampi) tour happy and at home :-)

Dinner too would have been unremarkable, had it not been for the boys at the Nepali Kitchen restaurant right opposite our hotel. On special request, they prepared a really mean Dal Tadka & Jeera Aloo while a bunch of foreigners chatted about their adventures in the plains to the tune of a guitar strumming companion.

Day 4
Morning broke as out kitchen manager arranged for boxes upon boxes of sandwiches for his guest groups heading for the highlight of the day - the Tsechu Festival. The festival is held in the Hemis gompa which lies about 35 km South East from Leh.

The Tsechu festival is celebrated in reverence to Padmasambhava. Held in the main courtyard of the monastery. - the festival begins with an early morning ritual atop the Gompa where, a large portrait of Dadmokarpo Rinpoche is unveiled. This is followed by number of elaborate Tantric rituals (Hemis is one of the prominent centres of Vajrayana Buddhism) inside the sanctum sanctorum. Then comes the highlight, a series of dance performances also known as 'Cham'. The Cham performance is essentially a part of Tantric tradition, performed only in those gompas which follow the Tantric Vajrayana.

The dance performances were fascinating, a veritable riot of colors. Hordes of photographers with cameras and lenses of all shapes and sizes had assembled. R and I had literally front row seats to the performance and the 4 cameras that we were carrying went mad as we shot off frame after frame after frame. Intermittent rain did not dampen any of of the festive mood as the crowed huddled under umbrellas, raincoats or whatever other cover they could find.

After the performances, we left for Leh. The road runs parallel to the Indus (Sindhu) river and a couple of white water rafts were also spotted bobbing along the stream. We stopped on the way at the Thiksey Gompa. It is amongst the largest & most famous monasteries in Ladakh & certainly one of the grandest. Standing atop a small hill - the 12 storey building is impressive in size and scale. Legend is that its design mimics that of the Potala Palace in Lhasa. The monastery belongs to the Gelugpa (Yellow Hat) school of Buddhism. The Dalai Lama is also from this school so the monastery currently enjoys an elevated status.

Politics apart, the monastery is really worth half a day's visit. Apart from the numerous little prayer rooms - the main hall has impressive thangkas & frescoes on its walls. A small ante-room has amazing statues of Sakya Muni & an amazing statue of the eleven headed Avalokiteshwara. However, the centre of attraction is the 20ft high statue of Maitreya - the Buddha to come. The views from the Gompa are no less amazing.

Very close to Thiksey a smaller but equally pretty Gompa of Stakhna. Situated on the right bank of the Indus River, the name 'Stakhna' literally means 'tiger's nose'. The monastery was so named because it was built on a hill, which is shaped just like a tiger's nose. The roots of the monastery lie in faraway Bhutan and like Hemis, it too belongs to the Drukpa (Red Hat) school of Buddhism. However, Stakhna predates the 17th century Hemis Gompa and is one of the earliest Drukpa monasteries in Ladakh.

Moving on, we made at stop at the Shey Palace as well. Shey is the old capital of Ladakh, before Leh took over. Occupied by the Namgyals till the 16th century, it is now almost totally deserted. Not much except ruins of the palace and gompa remain. The Palace sits on a ridge below the fort. om prayer lamps, the paintings in gold and bright colours are amongst the finest in this region. Shey was once considered an auspicious place for cremations. Vast grounds to the east of the gompa are scattered with numerous stupas, which contain ashes of prominent monks, members of the royal family and others.

Our last stop for the day was on the banks of the Indus river at a pretty spot called Sindhu Darshan. Inaugurated by LK Advani of all people, this place serves as a camping ground and also provides pretty views of the Indus flowing through the pretty Leh valley.

Day 5
It was time for us to head to one of the most spectacular & popular destinations in Ladakh, the Pangong Tso. Tso is the Ladakhi word for 'lake' and and Pangong is as amazing as they come. The road to Pangong is no less spectacular. Turning off from Leh - Manali highway at Karu, one needs to head up to the village of Sakti. Here the road starts climbing stepply towards Chang La pass. Chang La is reputed to be the third highest motorable road in the world after Khardung La & Tanglang La. For me, the climb was much more dramatic than the one to Khardung a 2 days ago. There was snow here too in the higher reaches and light flakes kept drifting in the wind as we stopped at the Army outpost at the summit. After some photos and snowball fights with the fresh snow, we pressed on.

Our driver kept stressing on the need to reach Pangong quickly as the summer sun quickly melts any overnight snow and by late afternoon, some of the streams that cross the road may swell and make our crossing difficult. If we had any doubts, they were soon dispelled when we came across a massive traffic pile up. A stream had washed away a large portion of the road and an Innova had gotten stuck among the rocks in almost shin deep water. All of the collective efforts of the drivers only mired the vehicle deeper and the situation was getting hopeless.

Just then, a big fat bulldozer operated by the BRO turned up and shoved a huge pile of rocks across the stream in a jiffy which created an alternate path for the vehicles to cross. Then it proceeded across the stream and towed the 2 tonne Innova out as if it were a toy car. An awesome display in clinically applied brute force, displaying the often unheralded efficiency of the BRO people who keep the roads open in this inhospitable terrain.

It was short sprint to Pangong thereon and soon we were at the banks of perhaps the most spectacular water body I have seen(It got relegated to #2 a few weeks later, but that's another story). It was crystal blue water ringed by mountains spread far in to the horizon. It was the bluest of blue waters that I ever set my sights upon and I could count 5-7 shades of blue within it. The lake is about 134km long and two thirds of it lies in Tibet. For the same reason, boating is not permitted.
Sharp winds and a biting drizzle that had been following us since Chang La, caught up with us and forced us to abandon our frolicking by the lake side and seek shelter in one of the tents set up by the lake side that also offered food and drink. Cooped up inside the warm & cosy tent, we devoured bowls of Maggi & Dal Chawal along with piping hot chai. The rain abated a bit, and we took some more photos and then it was time to head back as our driver was getting jittery looking at the weather.

The ride back was uneventful, save for the fact that the 6 inch deep snow at Chang La had mostly melted leaving an icy slush. We had another cuppa chai served free by the Army officers and paid our obeisance at the Chang La Baba temple before heading down to Leh. We saw lots of Himalayan Marmots on the way as well, scurrying around the meadows looking for food while the sun shone. Marmots hibernate in winter, so a large part of the summer is spent stocking up on food.
We were extremely tired after the 300km ride so dinner was early, though sleep was hard to come by. For some weird reason, breathing indoors continued to be a chore, even after 5 days at high altitudes. Outdoors were fine, even at heights above 17,000ft - but inside the room was sheer discomfort. Sleep was even more difficult and I used to wake up gasping many a time in the night thinking someone was throttling me !! Any idea why that happens?

Day 6
It was our last day for sightseeing in Ladakh and we chose to take it easy. Our plan for the day was to head to the oldest monastery in Ladakh at Alchi. From there on, we were due to Lamayuru. Halfway through the drive, we decided that we weren't up to another 300 km ride, so decide to stick to Alchi only. Heading down the highway to Srinagar we stopped by the confluence of the Indus and the Zanskar rivers. Later, we crossed the Indus and climbed towards Alchi village. The monastery itself is situated high above the banks of the river. Having been set up somewhere in the 12th century. Some sources predate the origin of the monastery but not many details are known.

The complex itself is home to three temples and two stupas. Unlike, other most monasteries in Ladakh it is not a very high building, except for the three story temple or Sumtseg. Alchi is home to some complex Mandalas. The Sumtseg has large statues of Maitreya flanked by those of Manjushri & Avalokiteshwara. The third temple is dedicated to Manjushri and has perhaps one of the most amazing statues you could ever come across. It is a four faced statue standing nearly 10 ft. tall. The four images of Manjushri are seated back to back in an elaborate common frame featuring a multiplicity of animals, gods and symbols and topped by the decorative scrolls deriving. The four images and their frames have been completely repainted in recent times. Photography however is strictly prohibited inside the temples.

We had lunch in the cafe cum camping site next door and then headed to the village for some shopping. Once inside the shops, we went overboard stuffing our backpacks with masks, brassware, khukris and other 'traditional' Ladakhi artefacts. What surprised me the most was the revelation that most of the stuff was made in Nepal !! There was another irony that I noticed throughout the bazaars in Ladakh - practically every shop has signs & stickers urging China to free Tibet - and the very same shops were selling a multitude of Chinese manufactured goods !! Perhaps trade & politics are not to be mixed....

We returned to our hotel and spent to night partying and packing as the next morning, was our flight to Delhi. While heading back, we felt it was an injustice to Ladakh that we'd spent very little time there and hardly got to explore it amazing beauty. Perhaps it was okay though... after all we had run out of adjectives to describe the place so we needed to learn a few more, before we could return.

Am back

Have been away from the blog for far too long... work life has been killing me. 14 hour days, coupled with super pressures from bosses had taken their toll on me, but then I got a break - and what a break it was.

But now I am back !! Spent the last week in Ladakh and trust me people, it is THE place where you would want to go to rejuvenate. There isn't a place like this in the world - in fact it leads to believe that there are only two kinds of people in the world... those who have been to Ladakh and those who haven't !!

Right now, I'm in the middle of processing more 6 GB worth of photos, which'll take me quite a while. A full trip report would accompany them too.... till then take a sneak peek and let me live in the hangover, while the life of a laptop warrior catches up with me :-(

Growing up with trains in Delhi

Just back from a convention of train crazy nutcases !! It was two days of non-stop train talk and all things associated. Even though I'm back in office, the hangover hasn't rubbed off yet... Dug out this old piece that I'd written which I'd like to share with you

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Delhi has never been in the same league as Bombay or Calcutta when it came to being a 'Railway' city as Delhi's public transport system has been predominantly road based. Despite that, trains have somehow been a constant fixture in all my years growing up in this city and I am taking this opportunity to share some memories of all these years with you.

My earliest memory of trains in Delhi dates back to the time when I was just a 4 year old and we used to live in Ramesh Nagar in West Delhi. Every now and then my grandma used to take me along to visit her sister who lived in Kirti Nagar area and the Meter Gauge lines to Jaipur used to pass practically through their front yard. I remember those sunny winter afternoons when the grannies used to sit in the lawn shelling peas and knitting sweaters and gossiping about Mrs. Sharma's latest necklace or Mrs. Verma's daughter running away with the milkman. Oblivious of it all I used to be doodling around the lawn in a tricycle stopping and watching in joy awe the magnificent steam trains that passed, and jumping with fright whenever they used to let rip their whistle!

A few years later, my uncle got married into a family that used to live the government flats in the Netaji Nagar area. This development meant numerous journeys in Ring Railway local trains between Kirti Nagar and Sarojini Nagar. I used to love the fast pick up of the EMU locals which used to be clean and shiny then - having been introduced a few years back alongside the 1982 Asian Games. Proximity to the Kirti Nagar station also meant that we could take a local direct to New Delhi station to catch long distance trains. So my adventures in the GT Express used to be preceded by a fast 30 min EMU ride that used to drop us right inside New Delhi. My dad used to then take me to the famous Lassi Wala opposite the Pahar Gunj entrance and only then would father and son think of boarding the train.

In the mid - 80s we moved to our current residence in Janak Puri which wasn't exactly on the railroad map so my travel was mostly by road, even though I used to beg my dad or uncle to stop for a moment on top of the Delhi Cantt. Flyover and let me survey the yard and only when I was satisfied were they allowed to move further.

After Class 5, I joined the senior section of my school at Barakhamba Road, which was a stone's throw away from the Shivaji Bridge station near New Delhi station (NDLS). Many a time, we could hear the horns of trains arriving or departing at NDLS and I used to make mental guesses of what train it could be depending on the time of the day and the sound of the horn.

As I grew, the subjects got more boring and I preferred bunking school and spending hours at Shivaji Bridge or Tilak Bridge watching the WDMs, the WAMs and the WAPs run endlessely in and out of NDLS while my friends whom I use to tag along used to tear their hair trying to figure out what was so sexy about a diesel smoking up or why on earth an antenna was called something as weird as a pantograph!?!

Many a time, I used to purposely miss the school bus, catch an EMU till Patel Nagar and then trudge a kilometer through the filth to the bus stop and catch a rickety DTC bus home. Money being a scarce commodity then, I used to buy the cheaper 2 rupee anti-clockwise ticket to Patel Nagar, but used to catch the longer clockwise train via Nizamuddin to maximize the bang for the buck. Once or twice a TT did catch me, but I could always claim that I asked the driver it'd go to Patel Nagar and he said yes. so how was I supposed to know if it went this way or that!

Going to college in DTC buses was a mini train-spotting session as we used to pass through the under bridge outside Shakur Basti yard and one could invariably spot a couple of trains waiting for clearance. That was the place, where I saw my first WDP1. I clearly remember it was 15002 in the standard red-cream livery, but what really caught my attention was the now famous 'baldie' short hood. To my untrained eyes, the 'sleek' and sexy loco looked as if it could easily do 200kmph and I really used to watch out for these locos and other baldies WDM2Cs who made an appearance at more or less the same time as the WAP4s!! Those wonder years for me, thinking that the high-speed age was finally dawning on IR with the appearance of these 'aerodynamic' loco. It took a couple of more years of 'growing up' before I started working and moving around the country that I really got to see these magnificent machines in action.

It was the starting of the Internet age and I had barely got my first email ID active. Those days even Google was not around I guess, but I typed Indian Railways Pictures into a search engine and the resultant was a site full of WDM2 pictures by a gentleman called we also know as Diesel King! God only knows how happy I was to learn that I was not the only nut on the planet!! Another few months down the line I formally joined this wonderful place called IRFCA. It's been close to 7 years now that I have been here and as our friend from Badnera once said that all of us love trains as kids, but some of us don't grow up.

Well neither have I. I am close to 29 now and I still fight for the window seat and yes I watch Thomas the Tank Engine too. its much-much better than the Saas Bahus ....

corsè di un nomad

I've travelled far and wide across the country.... by land, by air and by water. Of all my journeys, some of the most memorable ones have been by rail. My mom says, I was probably a railwayman in my past life, and died without completing my duty, which I'm doing now...

This map shows where all I've been across this country by train. One day I hope to fill this up completely. Hope to see you along one of my stops...

Himsagar

An itch that has finally developed into a full blown attempt at madness. Soon, it'll be time to start the journey of a lifetime.

Himsagar - click here to read more

The Tibetan

I am an atheist, but Buddhism and its teachings have had quite an impact on me...



A few months back I was in Dharamsala with C. Together, we were strolling down the streets of McLeoganj (Upper Dharamsala) and soon found ourselves at the doorstep of the Namgyal Monastery, the seat of His Holiness The Dalai Lama. Co-incidentally, he was in town on that day and was expected to visit the monastery soon. Not wanting to miss out on the chance, we made our way in - not before undergoing a rigourous security check.



Entering the monastery, we were swamped by the milling crowds all gathered for one glimpse of His Holiness and the two of us had little clue as to where to go or what to do. We decided to follow a large group of people going up the stairs. On top of the staircase we were separated from the group by the guards and we were feeling quite flustered by them. The whole place was in absolute chaos and no one was willing to help us out.



About to give up and get out, I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned around to stare into the deep black eyes of an elderly Tibetan. He spoked no Hindi or English, but beckoned us to sit down next to him. We squeezed into the tiny space on the steps amongst a huge crowd of praying common folk. Sitting there too was difficult as there was hardly any place, but the reassuring hand on my shoulder made me stay. I looked at him inquisitively, trying to understand the purpose of his insistence. And then he smiled....



Never have I ever seen anyone smile like that, his face... wrinkly and cragged was a picture of serenity, the eyes deep as the darkest coal mines... and smile it was like Buddha himself. I needed no more reassurance and looking back at C told me that she felt the same.



Moments later, we knew what he meant... there was a hush in the crowd and an air of anticipation.... a whisper went round the hall and then all of a sudden, His Holiness walked up the stairs just about 4 feet away from us. He turned around, and looked directly at us and smiled .....

We turned around to look at our Tibetan, his eyes were closed, lips murmuring silent prayers along with the beads of his rosary. Moments later, the hall rumbled with the deep throated 'Om Mani Padme Hum' by the Gyuto monks.



The Tibetan opened his eyes and smiled again.... I knew who he was....he was Avalokiteshwara himself.

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Invading God's Own Country - 3

continued from part 2...

With a crew of three, we set off accompanied by at least 15 other houseboats of various sizes and designs. Considering the fact that it was past New Year’s Day, most of the occupants in the other boats were either foreigners or NRIs.

After cruising through a fairly narrow channel, flanked by paddy fields and small dwellings, our boat reached the vast expanses of the main water body. The traffic in the channel included local fishermen’s boats and other locals heading off for business. Many ferries, and tourist boats could also be spotted.

Kerala is one of the few places in the country with an organized water based inland transport system. In and around Alleppey, boats are as good as buses with their own stops complete with a tea and knick-knacks stall!! I could spot people from all walks of life on these boats, office goers, students, tourists, priests… they were all there. The waterways, even had signposts marking distances to nearby towns just like the roads.

We slowed down our pace after entering the main part of the lake, and out came the beers. Just about then, the guy manning a small blue colored boat cruising next to us opened up the throttle of his powerful outboard Yamaha engine. The piddly looking craft roared to life and simply disappeared into the distance. It was probably the fastest watercraft I had ever seen in my life.

We stopped for lunch around 1400. The meal was typical Malyali vegetarian fare. For me, the large grain rice was a novelty and the whole thing was gobbled up with relish. The post noon session was devoted to photography. Flocks of egrets kept us company and nearing sunset, the water turned an amazing shade of gold. We docked once again, this time for the night.

Our skipped arranged a small boat ride in one of the dugouts, which ended up in a major argument as the boatman started demanding an obscene amount of money after the ride. However, the dipping sun and the sound melodious hymns from a nearby church carried over the waterways by an ingenious system of loudspeakers made the whole evening a memorable experience.

The evening drink was vodka mixed with Brite, a local rip off of Sprite and dinner consisted was simple but delicious. However, the rotis were a big disappointment, but this wasn’t Punjab after all. Some night time photography followed under the light of the rising moon, but a cloud cover produced mixed results. We retired to bed around 11, while the boat gently rocked by the swells created by the occasional late night ferry.

Day 5, Jan 4 2007

Got up early morning to get some more moonlight shots - the rest of the boat woke up around sunrise. The loudspeakers this time were playing Hindu bhajans, another proof of Kerala’s multi-religious harmony. Breakfast consisted of idlis and we set off for our final run back to Alleppey. We docked back around 9 AM along with a dozen other boats. After saying our thanks to the crew, we headed back towards town where a black Mahindra Scorpio waited for us.

The Scorpio was driven by Srikumar, a small wiry guy with a cheerful smile and with a good knowledge of Hindi. For the first time in 4 days, we did not need mom’s blend of Tamil – Malayalam to get us around. After hefting our luggage, we set off towards Ernakulam, on our way to Munnar.

On our way, we stopped at the palace museum of the erstwhile Kings of Kochi. The Palace charged hefty admission fee, especially for cameras. But I wonder where the money went, as the whole place was in abject disrepair and neglect. The condition of the buildings made them look far older than they actually were and the less said of the exhibits the better. The only interesting thing in the entire museum was the royal crown, made of a pot load of gold and wisely kept in a vault with a door which would take at least a 50 kiloton nuke to blast through.

There was this group of foreigners in the museum whose guide was speaking this funny language faster than a Gatling gun. Her pitch and tone was constant for every word she spoke, and no emotion showed through. The language sounded very East European, but I have never come across a language spoken so strangely.

We packed off from the museum soon and headed straight to Munnar. On the way we halted at Adimali for lunch. The hotel, the meal and the service – all three were downright atrocious and we wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. We made another stop at a waterfall enroute, but there wasn’t too much water as it was too late in the season. We finally made it to Munnar at around 1500 and checked into our hotel, which had been booked courtesy a good friend.

After some chai and rest, we headed out to the nearby Madupatty and Kundala dams. The route was pretty spectacular, as it wound its way through tea estates. The lakes looked pretty in the fading light, but the icing on the cake was provided by the appearance of a large tusker in one of the tea estates. The pachyderm was merrily tearing away at the branches while my camera shutter went mad trying to capture him in the fading light.

We had a light meal upon our return to the hotel and then retired to our rooms. The Tv wasn’t playing too much in the languages that I comprehend, and the internet wouldn’t work as Airtel has no signal in Munnar. With not much left to do, I crashed out for the night.

Day 6, Jan 5 2007

Next morning, after breakfast we headed for the Erivakulam National Park – home of the famed but endangered Nilgiri Tahr. Private vehicles are not allowed inside, so we drove up the gates of the park from where we took a forest department bus inside. The bus dropped us at the base of a kilometer long trail. On the way we saw some interesting sidelights like the Anai Mudi peak, the highest in South India. In addition, we saw some natural rock faces which resembled an elephant and a horse head !!

As we walked up the trail, our fellow companions started shouting excitedly. Looking up, we saw a herd of the tahr, grazing peacefully along the trail. The animals seemed oblivious, or maybe used to the presence of tourists and chose to ignore and chomped grass merrily.

We walked up to a sign which simply said “This is the end” and turned back, with not much else to see, except endless tea gardens of which I was growing sick by the minute. The whole tahr setup felt like a sham. It seemed that the forest department had domesticated a herd of the tahr and let them loose near the tourists, it just didn’t feel like a national park at all!!

We came back around mid-day and shopped around Munnar town for its specialties - tea, spices, chocolates and my favorite – strawberry preserve. After lunch, we headed to Bison point, which offered great views of what else but tea gardens, and to another view point around sunset from where you sea more tea gardens!!

Back at the hotel, we saw a remake of Amitabh’s Deewar in Tamil with Rajnikanth in the lead. Needless to say, it was fun despite the fact that most of the dialogues went above my head. The night was really cold, and the blankets were not too much of help. Luckily, I had some vodka left over so that really helped.

Day 7, Jan 6 2007

In the morning, there was a substantial layer of frost on the cars parked in the lot. The drivers were seen queuing behind the hotel’s kitchen for their bucket of hot water with which to clean their machines. Post breakfast, we left for Cochin and its sister city of Ernakulam, our last halt on the Kerala leg. We reached Kochi past noon and headed for the Dutch Museum, which was in much better shape than the one we saw a few days back. The armoury was of great interest to me and my brother.

A look at the list of Cochin Rajah’s through the year revealed another interesting fact, more than 90% of the kings in the clan’s 500 hundred year plus history were either named Rama Varma, Ravi Varma or Kerala Varma !! The reason well - In Cochin Royal Family all the male Thampurans (sons) were named according to the following methodology - Eldest Male Son To A Mother - Rama Varma, Second Son - Kerala Varma, Third Son -Ravi Varma, Fourth Son - Goda Varma. Since I did not find too many Goda Varmas on the list, I presumed that there weren’t too many fourth sons J

Of more interest to me were the famous Chinese Fishing Nets of Cochin. These nets are found in the Fort Kochi area and are proof of Kochi’s illustrious maritime history. It is believed that these nets, which are otherwise found only in China were introduced to India by trader’s from Kulbai Khan’s court from the 1450s !!

It was interesting to see the fisherman walk along the narrow beams of the nets to make necessary adjustments, but the meager catch I saw each time a net was dipped made me wonder how long would these nets stay as a means of livelihood and not end up being just a tourist attraction. We had a very nice buffet meal at a nearby hotel and then went back to Ernakulam for some shopping and to catch our train to Chennai. We were met by my friend Jimmy, who had so graciously helped with the planning of the trip and making bookings for us.

He dropped us at Ernakulam South station, where we got dinner packed while waiting for our train – the Alleppey Chennai Express. It arrived dot on time and I spent some time on the door catching up on the last glimpses of Kerala as the sunset.

The train is hardly an express and stopped at ten stations till Palghat, merely 151km away – you work out the math. On our way, we crossed the new Cochin Airport which actually is kilometer or so away from Alwaye station!! As we crossed, I spotted an Air India Express flight lift off in its enticing livery.

Day 8, Jan 7 2007

We tucked in early, and I got up at the crack of dawn to find ourselves at Arrakonam – just 67 kilometers away from Chennai. We had made fair progress in the night and the train was running more or less on schedule, thanks to the slack built into the timetable. We pulled into the platforms of the famed Chennai Central and trooping out, I got a pre-paid taxi slip to the airport, only to find myself facing the most rickety Premier Padmini one could ever find. The car was so rusty, that I was wondering if it would not break into half if we and our luggage were to be loaded onto it.

We somehow managed to squeeze everything in it and set off. The engine though was in a good condition and the car climbed flyovers with aplomb. We stopped at a fuel station on the way and the driver asked us to help him remove the luggage. The reason for this strange request was found out soon !! The car had no petrol tank, instead a five liter can of cooking oil had somehow been hooked up to the fuel line and that served as the fuel tank !! The guy simply unhooked it, took it to the attendant, got it filled to the brim and stuck the tube back on …. Brilliant one would say !!

We reached the airport without the car blowing up or leaking petrol onto my rucksacks, and then settled down in the lounge for a 3 hour wait before our flight. Chennai airport, like any metro airport in India is struggling hard to cope up with the boom in passenger traffic, and everywhere there is chaos and long queues. The free Wi-fi internet refused to connect and I had to use my own, so I managed to catch up with mail after quite a few days. The Taj outlet in the waiting lounge served delightful bakery at very reasonable prices. The burger for 40 bucks was better than any McDonald’s burger I have had in this country.

The three hours we managed to pass somehow, and then boarded our flight which was a hopping Indigo flight via Hyderabad. The flight was fairly smooth but the stopover at HYD was way too long, and fatigue took over. I somehow slept all the way to Delhi, and since I had forgotten my car keys at home. The car had to left in the office parking, and we all took a taxi back home.

It had been eight days, and we traveled nearly 10,000 kilometers by over land, sea and air, by road, river, rail and by bus, boat, train, plane, car, auto and god knows what else. I was happy to be back home………

pics from the trip can be seen here

Images from God's own country

Ok Ok, I know..... I haven't been able to complete the note... lack of connectivity and then of time since my return.



Will put up the rest of the story soon... in the meantime enjoy the pictures

Check them out here

Invading God's Own Country - 2

Continued from

Day 3 – Jan ,2 2007

Got woken up by the squawk of the train superintendent on the PA system announcing the arrival of our destination Trivandrum Central. A few minutes later, we got off and took an auto to our hotel. My parents went off to see the famous Ananta Padmanabha Swamy Temple while me and bro chose to relax in the room.

Around eleven, we headed to the famous beach Kovalam, which in fact is a collection of 3 crescent shaped beaches dominated by a lighthouse. Kovalam, is infested with tourists of all shapes, sizes and colors and accordingly by hotels to suit their needs. The entire area around Kovalam and neighbouring beaches is littered by besuty centres and clinics promising an Ayurvedic massage to cure anything from acne to constipation and everything in between.

After the customary family photographs posing against the surf and the sand, we decided to pack up and head to Kanniyakumari instead. Our erstwhile rulers, the Brits had no hope in hell to get the name right, so they used to call it Cape Comorin. Trivandrum, er… should I say Thrivananthapuram is connected to Kanniyakumari via the NH 47. The road is just about the most ridiculous highway you would ever come across. Even the main street in Ghosipur would be wider than that.

Even stranger is the fact that settlement from Trivandrum to Kanniyakumari seems to extend in one continuous chain. You simply cannot tell where one town ends and the other starts unless you read the shop signs. In fact you would almost miss the border crossing into Tamil Nadu for a traffic check post !!

Had it not been at the tip of the sub-continent, or more importantly had it not been for Vivekananda’s urge to jump into the sea and meditate on the rock a furlong from the shore, Kanniyakumari would hardly have been famous. A garishly modern temple finished in 1970 stands as a memorial to the great saint on the same rock where the saint meditated for 2 days. A more recent addition is a huge statue of the Tamil poet Thiruvalluvar, erected on an adjacent outcrop. The statue, towers over the memorial and the surrounding landscape and also accessible by the same ferry which takes visitors to the Vivekananda memorial.

While the statue is pretty impressive, and would have made a pretty picture once it was lit up in the night – the more cynical of the tourists around me passed it off as an attempt the Dravidian’s to outdo the splendor of the Aryan monument right in their own backyard. However, for me the sight of an array of windmills a couple of miles to the east was far more impressive and interesting. It is good to note that India is beginning to realize the potential in harnessing wind power along its abundant coast line. Private sector companies should be encouraged to setup more such wind farms which can easily meet the energy needs of small and medium towns that dot our coast.

Another interesting sidelight is a wax statue museum (billed as India’s first) in a resort (curiously) called Baywatch (it actually overlooks the Arabian Sea side of Kanniyakumari). While some of the statues were life like, most of them let a lot to desire – though the place gets full marks for trying. Yours truly and kid brother had a gala time posing against politicians, film stars and even a sumo wrestler. After watching the sun extinguish itself for the night over the horizon, we made our way back to Trivandrum and crashed out as we had an early start the next day.

Day 4, Jan 3, 2007

In exactly 24 hours, we were back at Trivandrum station – this time to catch the Jan Shatabdi express to Allappuzha (formerly Alleppey). Alleppey is the gateway to Kerala’s famous backwaters along with Kumarakom and Cochin (Kochi). The train route from Trivandrum to Alleppey is very scenic and passes on the banks of many a gorgeous lake and crosses innumerable streams and rivers. The two hour ride was thoroughly enjoyable and more than made of for the disappointing breakfast served on board.

After the customary haggling ritual at the station with the auto drivers, we finally managed to make it to the jetty – my parents and bro in the auto, while I lugged it out in the city bus – which wasn’t too much fun considering the fact that I had a sizeable backpack with a tripod that was poking the locals much to their chagrin and to make matters worse, the roof ended exactly at my ears causing a neck ache in 5 minutes.

Alleppey is an old colonial town, and once very famous and prosperous especially for spice trade. It is slowly being taken over by ugly bazaars and the hideously ubiquitous glass and steel malls. However, it still retains its old world charm and not for nothing is it called the ‘Venice of the East.’ A network of canals and backwaters, interconnected with the lakes makes for a fascinating water transport system. The jetty has a boat station where one can catch a local or a intercity boat complete with its own number and a conductor with tickets !! To boot, even the horns are ripped off their land bound cousins (read buses) and with time in hand, one must explore them.

However, our foray into the town was only till the nearest restaurant to top up the breakfast and then made our way to our houseboat. I was really looking forward to this bit of the trip and upon the first glance the boat was straight out of my dreams – and yes the Kerala Tourism brochure. Christened, the ‘Orchid Blue’ – our boat was a 2 bedroom one, powered by a 6 cylinder Ashok Leyland marine diesel. Fore of the bedrooms was a lovely lounge from where we had the prettiest views of the backwaters leading to the Vembanad lake stretching all the way to Cochin, 61 miles away.

Invading God's Own Country

Ok folks

It's time for that BIG holiday !! Am going on vacation with my parents after fifteen long years and in style. A week long sojourn in God's own country - Kerala !!

Let's see how this atheist fares there. Will be attempting a daily update from each of my stopovers, Airtel internet card permitting.

C'ya soon

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Day 1 -Dec 31, 2006

Packing is on in full swing. Trying hard to find those nooks and corners in my rucksack to stuff the small but significant things like batteries, memory card, chargers et al. The sun is out and it looks to be a good day.

So for 8 days its goodbye to Delhi's fog and hello to sunny Kerala.

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Got up at six and finished the packing after the morning chores. The cab came at 0915 and we were off. We reached Nizamuddin (NZM) station well before time, so spent a while at the Comesum food plaza chatting over breakfast.

At around 1030 we hefted our luggage and climbed the steep, uncomfortable stairs of NZM’s new entrance and reached the platform just as our train was being brought in. It had been more than ten years that I had been on a vacation of any sort with my parents, so this one brought all those memories of first class cabins, water in earthen pots, tea in kulhars and Vadilal’s ice cream at Nagpur back.

The train pulled out on time and thence began the never ending process of feeding, feeding and feeding by the stewards of the Trivandrum Rajdhani Express. Breadsticks and soup followed by lunch, followed by ice cream, followed by juice and snacks, followed by more breadsticks and soup, followed by dinner followed by ice cream… phew !!! In between all of this, countless trains sped past my window carrying tonnes and tonnes of human and sundry cargo. The landscape to Mathura is that of unending fields dotted by the odd industrial estate. The National Highway to Agra keeps company and it was fun to see even the most modern cars being thumped royally by the speeding Rajdhani.

Past Mathura, we parted company with the Central Line and joined the Western Line (zonal reorganization be damned). The stretch to Kota is one of the finest pieces of track in the country and the WAP4 up ahead made light of the 15 coach load and kept up a scorching pace. Inside the coaches, the roar of the ballast was muted and the PA system played piped music comprising of piano renditions of old Bollywood songs. The CD kept skipping every 3 seconds making the artist sound like a novice learning his notes. The first 15 minutes were amusing, then became a drag and by the end of the first hour the racket was unbearable. To compound matters, the young men across the aisle with the fancy Nokia were undoubted Himesh fans so you can very well imagine my plight.

The tracks past Bayana are very picturesque with a small outcrop of the Aravallis running parallel. Old Rajput chieftains had built watch towers which stand to this day. For the nth time I made a mental note of coming down here to indulge in some climbing and photography sessions, but with the weather being what it is, this plan has been safely slotted under the ‘summer’ calendar.

Kota arrived as the sun dipped for the last time in 2006. The Rajdhani thundered along merrily, as I climbed my berth to come face to face with the legendary ‘Open for Light’ reading lamps. Forsyth’s Afghan kept company till Vadodara. As the clock approached midnight, I was expecting some sort of cheer amongst the occupants of the train, perhaps some merry making too, but no one seemed to be interested in the passing of another year. I quietly took vodka swigs off my flask and my phone beeped endlessly with messages wishing me New Year and frantic newsmen calling for information on the fog that had engulfed my airport. Ignoring them all, I turned over and closed my eyes thinking of the one sipping vodka a thousand kms away.

Day 2 – Jan 1, 2007

Heavy braking roused me from my sleep, and I came to the door to find our train approaching Panvel, one of Mumbai’s far flung suburbs. Panvel is where the catenary ends and from here on, the diesels roam free. Panvel is also the beginning for the scenic Konkan Railway (KR), though technically it begins much later near Roha. The Konkan Railway is an engineering marvel, built in one of the toughest terrains in the world. Most of the railway passes through wilderness and the beauty of this region is as pristine as it gets. The railway is punctuated by numerous tunnels and viaducts and our train sped on and on with lesser trains making way for it at crossing stations.

Dawn broke, as we halted at Kolad where some technicians fitted KR’s ingenious Anti Collision Device on the guard’s compartment. This patented measures proximity between two trains on the same track and hoots much in advance to warn the driver of a possible collision. The scene at Kolad was misty and the mist deepened into dense fog as we entered deeper into the vales. Shrouds of grey-white cloud hung low over the moist fields and hill tops, while fishing boats and trawlers prepared to depart for the morning catch in the endless stream of creeks and backwaters that dot this region.

The Rajdhani though did not pause to admire the scenery as it plunged headlong into tunnels, emerging over tall viaducts and back into the bowels of the earth as our ears popped with alarming regularity. The viaducts on KR are amongst the tallest in the world and cows seemed as small as mice as the grazed quietly as the sun broke through the misty veil.

The age-old vegetarian Rajdhani consisting of bread, cutlet and boiled French Fries were served along with the do-it-yourself mugs of chai or coffee. Tunnels kept coming, tunnels kept going while my camera shutter snapped happily. Ratnagiri was the first major station of note where the driving crew changed duty while passengers took the opportunity of stretching their legs. The tunnels resumed as soon as we left the station and the longest tunnels on this route, measuring nearly 7 kilometers in length caused another round of fervent fingering of the ear canals trying inside the compartment.

Past Sawantwadi Road, we entered Goa. Even though the state is famous for its beaches, most people don’t know that 80% Goa is hilly, with the beaches forming but a sliver off its west coast. The terrain through which the track passes in the state is as hilly as it gets Goa too has its fair share of tunnels, most notably being the ones at Pernem, Old Goa (Karmali) and Verna. The highlight of the Goa passage is of course the crossing of the twin rivers of Mandovi & Zuari. The bridge over the Mandovi river gives a clear view of the famous Old Goa churches, while from the Zuari – the sea can be seen. Huge barges ply up and down the rivers carrying precious cargo and in the evening, the Mandovi also plays host to pleasure cruises with enough singing, dancing and beer on board.

Entering Madgaon, Goa’s principal railway station, one also sees the ambitious demo line of the Skybus Monorail project initiated by KR. The project was launched with much fanfare, but then fizzled out after an accident and poor market response. KR is still hopeful of its future, though for the moment it hangs in limbo.

Though most people travel on the KR only till Madgaon, the truly spectacular territory only starts once you head south. One of the last stations in Goa is called Balli, and a few miles south of the station, you cross a small river barely a few hundred metres away from the beach. The hills still hug the tracks, but at some spots you can clearly see the Arabian Sea a stone’s throw away.

Crossing into the state of Karnataka, the scenic beauty just got amazing by the minute. The first halt in Karnataka was the town of Karwar, where the Indian Navy is building its largest base. Just before the station, the train crosses a large river and the surroundings are ethereal to say the least. Words fail me as I try to describe the beauty that rolled before my eyes and for minutes altogether I was left staring into the window, stunned by the vista.

This was the first of many such views that I could lay my eyes on, as the Rajdhani sped southwards. The tunnels never ceased, but every now and then we would cross a small stream or a river, and I could spot tiny fishing boats coming in with the day’s catch or a ferry helping children return home from school. The banks of these streams were smooth but muddy and one could spot neatly marked footprints of those who ply their trade by the banks and to whom the water was the source of all livelihood.

This part was also home to some of the densest coconut groves that I have ever seen along with the lushest paddy fields that one can hope to find. Amazingly though, I did manage to see a few examples of what looked like coniferous trees, the kinds that you’ll find a good 2000km to the north. Was it some trickery that my eyes were fooled into, or did nature find a way of making these oddballs survive so far from their natural habitat?

We were running behind schedule, a result of long slow runs due to track maintenance and the sun was slowly dipping over the western horizon as we marched untiringly towards Udupi, the town that gave India the South Indian Fast Food.

An NRI couple had blocked the doorway with half a dozen huge suitcases, ostensibly on a long winter holiday. Just about then, half the compartment chose to go to the loo on that end. Naturally, an argument erupted with a Punjabi aunty demanding that they remove the suitcases. All requests to go to the toilet on the other end fell on deaf ears and I merrily watched the whole drama from the sidelines. Mercifully, for us and the lady – the station arrived soon enough and the lady merrily ignored the statutory request of not using the toilet at stations, while the couple unloaded their 747 worth of cargo.

I was hoping to find some piping hot dosas or idlis at Udupi station, but none of them materialized. However, the wealth generated by the eponymous restaurants all over the country could clearly be seen as modern apartments and affluent looking bungalows were sprinkled all over the hills that surround the station. I am safely assuming that some of that might have come from the software engineers that the south of our country has exported en masse.

From Udupi, it was a shot run to Kankanadi, a suburb of the important town of Mangalore. The main Mangalore station lies on another alignment of the railroad, and the KR line is served by Kankanadi – a station located in a jungle on the outskirts of the town. Four years ago, it had taken me nearly 45 minutes just to find the road which led to the station from the main street. Most KR stations are in fact located in the middle of nowhere. The line more or less follows the coast line going right through except the most difficult of terrain. As a result, most stations’ location was dictated by the alignment of the track than convenience. As a consequence some stations on the line are 10 kilometers or more from the towns they are supposed to serve!!

Darkness fell as we left Kankanadi and crossed a huge river emptying itself into the sea about a kilometer downstream from the bridge. The action shifted indoors with my co-passengers, especially a Marathi lot showing keen interest in my photo catch for the day. As always, the hidden professionals in the audience came to the fore and soon I was being offered advice on how I should have focused on this rather than that, and being bombarded with questions on why on earth was I shooting trains?

I mumbled oft practiced replies and then turned into my corner to finish off Fredrick Forsyth’s ‘Afghan’, which is an interesting read though not in the same league as the author’s earlier works. Guess age catches up with us all.

Dinner was served late due to, er….. technical difficulties – which basically meant that the Pantry car stove had packed up. We rumbled through north Kerala as I wolfed down the last of my meal. I slept a bit early as we had an early start and for once I slept peacefully on a train without having to resort to a drink or two.

continued...

Meenakshi Redux Part 2: The Metric Goddess

Continued from Part One

Ahead lay the longest possible meter gauge journey by a single train in India – a run of 1148km to Purna spread over 32 hours by the 9769 Meenakshi Express. Settling down cabin C of the solitary 2A coach, we eagerly awaited the start which came 2 minutes past the scheduled departure of 1200hrs.

Our first halt was Kishangarh, and then on we headed towards Phulera (FL) where the first of our three crossings with the opposite Meenakshi took place. Next up was Ajmer and we swept through the suburbs on the famed curve halting briefly at the outer. Since, the Meenakshi carried a full fledged pantry (the only one on MG across IR), we were expecting to be served lunch at Ajmer, but this was not to be. Meal service began only at dinner time and till then it was only chai and snack service. A hunt on the platform stalls revealed that I would again be served with my by now favourite dish – what else but PS!!!!!!!! The post lunch ride took us past the Cantonment town of Nasirabad and other halts like Gulabpura.

The 4th occupant of our cabin was a serviceman on his way to Khandwa. The fellow was either the reserved type or had been driven past the end of his wits by the incessant cackle of three excited railfans with the cramped confines of a MG 2A cabin. Whatever, be the reason the chap was fast asleep and our banter ranged from the weird to the downright corny and every thing in between. At Mandal, one station before the textile town of Bhilwara we waited a long time for a crossing train before making our way through a surfeit of semaphores that guarded the station’s entrance.

Past Bhilwara, the sun fell rapidly and with that the spirits rose as the aperitifs for the evening were brought to the party along with a motley collection of hors d'oeuvres stocked up at Jaipur. While we were at it, our train docked in at Chittaurgarh where the Phulera loco gave way to another YDM4 from Mhow, which would haul our train right up to Purna. Dinner was served at Chittaur as well, which consisted of freshly cooked on board paranthas, dal, veggie, curd and pickle along with fried rice which was part of the peshal’ (special) thali. The regular thali got staid boiled rice of course. The food, served piping hot was excellent, much better than the fancy meals served on board the Rajdhanis. In fact, all three of us readily admitted that it was perhaps the best meal we had eaten aboard a train in a long time, and that too in a godforsaken MG pantry in the back of beyond!!

Nimbahera was next, where a longish halt for a crossing under the bright full moon proved to be a fantastic opportunity for me to take some night shots of freight MG stock. Next up was Neemuch, where we eagerly awaited the ghosts of Diwali past. We were on the door even before the train halted and a quick scan in the moonlit yard revealed the looming figures of Mohan’s ghosts and we were off. Sprinting across the track we climbed the platform and setup our cameras to reel off shots in whatever light that was available. The 3 YGs had been left there to rust in peace except when disturbed by the hoops of gone-loco rail fans jumping around like monkeys at mealtime.

As we pulled away, a toast was called in the honour of the rusting beauties and the party continued into the night past Mandasor. Alarms were set for 0400 hours and they rand just as the Goddess pulled into the suburbs of Indore past Lakshmibai Nagar. It was fairly chilly at that hour and a hot cuppa chai was called for. On the platform, a whole platoon on young NCC cadets lay sprawled on the platform sleeping uncomfortably as we prepared for the most exciting stretch of our journey.

A short run later we pulled into Mhow, a good 1 hour late. Dawn was breaking in the eastern sky as a YDM4 swung into action detaching 7 coaches from the formation and then leaving them into a siding before reattaching the SLR to reduce our rake length to 12 coaches. Correspondingly, ours became the second last coach in the consist and we looked forward to the Choral gorge while chomping away on freshly made Poha and chai. The ghost of PS was past or so I thought.

We were now waiting for Patalpani – where the water touched the deepest darkest depths of the earth and just as Mohan had predicted, the place was as beautiful as beautiful could get. The sun rose in the east while the moon set in the west and we could see them out of the left and right doors of the coach respectively.

Patalpani is the first of the brake testing halts as the Meenakshi prepares to tackle near vertical slopes of the Malwa plateau. The first of the 41% grades hit immediately past the starter and a few hundred meters ahead we were presented with a breathtaking view of the magnificent Patalpani waterfalls which were in full flow dropping from a height of more than 150ft. The depth of the pool into which the waters falls is allegedly unfathomed and folklore says it reaches Patal-Lok or the Netherworld.

From then on the journey was sheer magic, a journey that would stay imprinted in my memory till my dying day. The Meenakshi rumbled through cuttings, tunnels, thickets and valleys stopping for brake testing halts along the way. The sun rose over the misty Choral valley and the river gurgled far below on the valley floor. On a spectacular curve, just before the tunnel we halted. Part of the train was on a magnificent viaduct and the loco had stopped right next to a waterfall rolling down the hillside. The sun burned bright between the green leaves and the sight that unfolded before me was far more beautiful than what a camera could ever hope to capture.

The Choral accompanied us throughout our traverse through the valley and we reached Kala Kund, where a board under the home semaphore announced the end of the Ghat section. The mountainside however, was not going to leave us anytime soon, nor was the river Choral. It flow more or less parallel to us for quite a distance and crossed us again near the eponymous station. Beyond that, till Mukhtiara Balwada, we scampered through hill and valley across tight curves making for one of the loveliest mornings in recent memory. At Mukhtiara Balwada, we waited for a crossing train and in the process discovered more ancient rails on the loop line. These rails too were built by Barron Steel of England for BB&CI Railway way back in 1898!!!

As the sun grew hotter, we slunk back the comforts of our cabin waiting for Khandwa to arrive and along with it breakfast. The two bit town that Khandwa is, the meals were equally two bit and there I was suffering PS again for the 5th time in 36 hours. After that the train took a sweeping curve past Khandwa town, gaining height in the process and crossing the CR mainline and onwards to Akola. We chilled in the cabin, waiting for the next highlight – namely the Dhulghat spiral. This is the only one of its kind in India outside the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway and is marked the sight of a tall viaduct as we approach it from the Khandwa side.

My handycam was ready and whirring as we went under the viaduct and into a sharp left handed curve right through a narrow cutting gaining height by one meter for every hundred we travelled forward. Soon we found ourselves on top of the very viaduct we passed a few minutes back and then curved left again heading south.

There is a tunnel shortly after the spiral and one after Wan Road station as well. There are several tall viaducts on this section and one – very aptly named ‘Amphitheatre’ (spelled Amphetheter) provides a stunning view of the plains below which eerily resemble the Serengeti Savannah !! Several local stuntmen showed of their daring but stupid skills as they crawled their way up the side of the coach on to the roof and then walking the length of the train as it wound down its course down the hills.

We crossed the Tapti near Tukaithad and also the Narmada before Khandwa which were the two major rivers along the way. Akola was the next major station (and our second tryst with catenary) on the way and we spent less than a minute on the platform as it was baking hot outside. We departed Akola alongside the Geetanjali to Howrah on the BG. We quickly climbed the ramp and across the BG to continue our southerly course. Having been treated to another excellent meal by the pantry, and having been up since 4AM, we decided to go for a nap.

The plan was the get up near Washim for the Penganga crossing, but alas my fatigue ruled and I got just before Hingoli Deccan, the erstwhile boundary of the Nizam’s Railway. Sings of conversion to BG were omnipresent past Hingoli, with cuttings being widened, sleepers lining trackside and pre fabricated concrete sections for bridges being readied. The plan is to convert the MG from Purna to Hingoli and then on to Akola, providing another route south.


Light fell past Hingoli, and it was time to party again. This time, it was a toast tinged with sadness as our journey neared its end and with it came the realization that soon this would all be history. The pantry served its delightful fare for one final time and we finished our meal just as we pulled up to Purna outer. As we waited, the Devagiri from Secundrabad went past on the BG side we followed it in shortly. At Purna, India’s premier MG train was pulled directly on to the siding even when a pla