The Sage Singers - Baul Fakir Utsav, 2018

Looking at those people singing on the stage, wearing a knee-length attire kept me wondering, why do they choose a life like that?

Bauls..... that is how the world knows them, are basically the wandering monks, but there are many who taunt them as vagabonds. 

Renouncing wealth and proclaiming love is what they tune their life with. But don’t they need money to live a life? What is this life they look for even in this world where 2 months baby get raped or a man is killed because of his religion?

Sitting on the straws under a tent in a winter evening, I was enthralled watching them performing at the Baul Fakir Utsav, 2018. But these questions hovered my mind all the time.

This 2-day congress brings Bauls from various corners of Bengal. The embracing, selfless voice without an ego is enticing; and maybe that is what captures the heart most. You have to listen every word to understand what they want to convey. They talk of humanity, unity, truth of life, basic living and love. They sing songs of Lalan Fakir and their Gurus, they sing their own creation while whirling with their musical instruments lost in translating the meaning of life.

Wearing an ocher-colored attire and playing an Ektara doesn’t make a Baul. A real Baul lives a life based on Deho Sadhana, and Mana Sadhana, and that is not easy. Some say, they live a repulsive life, whereas, some say they are free birds.

This Utsav starts at 6 am in the morning and ends at 4 am. You can hop in at any point of time, only if you want to understand them.

A song is not only made of music, but it combines words as well. So when you hear them, listen to what they say. The songs have a rustic touch without any classy elements, yet very true to every strata of society. Bauls never bind themselves to the conservatism existing in the society and their songs reflect that belief.

A Baul once said, “The entire world is my home. We walk anywhere and are welcome anywhere. When you walk, you are freed from the worries of ordinary life, from the imprisonment of being rooted in the same place."

It is hard to realize what the Bauls have achieved, but these so called ignorant dancing monks are way more learned than the mass, and you can tell that from their songs. So, if you are in Shantiniketan during the time of Keduli Mela, or if you are in Kolkata during the Baul Fakir Utsav, give yourself a chance to experience the divine, love, mysticism from the earthen voices of the vagabonds and step into a land of fraternity.

Sisney – The Small Himalayan Hamlet

As the car took the next turn, leaving the ranges behind us and I fixed my thirsty gaze to the front screen, hoping to reach the destination. But no!  Nudup had some other plans as he kept on steering and taking us to the… TOP TOP and TOP!!

Nudup, a local guy and our driver, happens to be one of the best things in our trip to Sikkim. Personally, I felt, stories of this small Mongoloid man with tiny eyes were much  more trustworthy than someone who is speaking bheto (typical) Bengali or praising the beauty of the Himalaya while spitting beetle nut pieces around.

We started from Kalimpong at 7:30 am and we reached Sisney around 10 am. This is a small hamlet surrounded by the mighty ranges and it is almost disconnected from the city. It would be wrong to call the topography rough because the mountain in this part is still green, yet with a tinge of aridity here and there.    

As we got down from the Scorpio (not the predator, of course!), a dog came running to me and tried its best to drill down his canines through my two layered pants. My friend laughed and said, "Here doggie, go for the leg pices!!" Fortunately, I saved my tender leg with a confused look, showing a knuckle to my friend. But  soon, the four-legged animal turned friendly and while patting it, I saw the dog has a broken paw. However, that didn’t seem to curb down the energy of the little one. It was still happy and ready to play.  

Well, the reason I called Sisney a hamlet disconnected from the city is because, once you are here, there is no way you can have telecommunication with the rest of the world. Yes, this is a smart place where your Smartphone looks stupid.

If you have to make a call, walk a few kilometers; sit on a tombstone and talk, while admiring the beauty of the Mother Nature. Or, you can also rest your phone on a glass window pane, roughly at 85 degrees and talk hands free. 

Now that is some engineering! I wonder how people carry out a private conversation over phone at Sisney. May be he asks people around to move away, or maybe he howls, “Hey guys, shut your ears, am trying to make a private call here on loud speaker!”       

So, tell me, do you want to go there? I say you must! The place is just half an hour from Rongli Bazaar towards Zuluk.

The sound of the small stream running over the rocks, the soft cold wind touching your skin, the jingling of temple bells will tell you just one thing, “Take a break.” 

The population of Sisney looked like 20 families only. Every colorful house has its own garden with flowers hanging down from the balcony. The locals sit at the corridors to chat and greet you with warmth. Nudup said, each of these local owns a mountain.  And we were like, “A mountain? Are you kidding?!” But then he explained, ‘Like you own land, we do not have plain lands here. So these mountains are our property, given to our ancestors by our kings.” But we were still like “A mountain?!” 

With houses on either side, the narrow lane takes a serpentine course, moving with a charm that tempts you to follow her. But as you go up, there is nothing to see except the alluring mountains, the sound of your own breath and the echo of your existence.

Sisney has only one school for the children of the locality. After completing the secondary education, the parents need to send them to another village for completing their higher studies.

The natives are mostly engaged in farming, cattle rearing, and other labor oriented jobs. We even got to know that the Sikkim government is helping the locals to build their houses. I really admired the way the houses were maintained. Financially, they may not be very well off, but they know how to live a beautiful life. There was only one small shop in the village with minimum things of daily use; and if they need anything more, travelling to the city is the only option left. 

In the winters, when the sun goes down and the chilly cold breeze rules the neighborhood, the locals gather around a bonfire to enjoy the weather with a cup of chai (tea) and loads of addas (chatting). They say that wild bears come at night to find food or for a prey. So they prefer to stay inside their sweet houses after 8 p.m.

Being a silent spectator of their life for a whole day, I realize that we can live without a mobile phone even today. We really do not need so many things to have a peaceful life. Yet again, I accept, the people of the mountains have a hard life with lack of medical facilities, no work opportunities and lack options for education. But don’t they still have a life?

   Well, the grass always seems greener on the other side!

If you really want to feel this life, there are a few homestays available at Sisney, but don’t go with an expectation of lavish living amidst the fauna. All you need is a shelter for a day and food; and these homestays assure that amidst the bliss of the Himalayas and care of the Mother Nature.

Isn’t it enough?        

I Want to Fly!

Image Courtesy: Google

Nostalgia… what is that? Going back to the past and trying to find out the lost old days, happy moments and then coming back to reality, realizing you are in just an opposite state.

May be you should think again. Did you actually leave anything behind? Or better to put it in this way, have I been able to leave anything? For the last 27 years, I have been waking up to the same old life. Of course there were phases – childhood days, student life and currently the great working stage. There were times when I believed, all I do is for a stable career. To get appreciation for the work I have done and by the end of the month get paycheck for the toil.

But what has left in for me to cherish? My degrees gave me a job and in turn money, to earn a living. As for the living part, I stay with my parents; so I still don’t stand to say “earning a living”. Or maybe I can say that because I see some of my colleagues are on the same pay-scale and still making a living out of it. Err, whatever!!

But, do I want that living? Do I want to go to a room enclosed within 4 walls with artificial cold air blowing down from a machine? The answer is NO!!!

I feel like a balloon that has been tied to a rod. It is allowed to float in air but it is not permitted to fly away. The wind thrust it in different directions but it cannot loosen up the string.

Yes, I feel like that. I can see places, I can see travelers, I can see roads but I cannot fly away. Every day I wake up to see the same old houses, trees, and people shouting about their unending problems. Papers have nothing good to say rather than printing the shittiest news on its first page.

Is this the life I presumed to live? I need to cut off that string or ill get deflated soon and accept the nostalgia of nothingness, killing the traveler that lies within me.     

            

Red Light in Amsterdam

Everyone is typing around me, everyone is so darn focused; as for me and my colleague, we rarely get these times, when there is nothing to write for the whole day. However, I suddenly found her tapping the keyboard as well; she caught me staring and said, “Got a chance to write my blog!” She grinned and started typing again.

Being a travel blogger myself, I know how it feels to write your own thoughts rather than doing something instructed. So I smiled back and fixed my gaze on an interesting blog, which I suddenly came across, searching God knows what in Google. 

While reading the travelogue, I realized why I love this genre. It is here that I can be myself; I can explain my feelings without thinking about the various saintly concepts. I can use words, which actually describe my state of mind. I am more myself when I am writing about traveling. 

Adam AKA Chirpy, the travelogue’s writer shared all his travel experiences using the utmost funniest tone in the blog. His trip to Paris and the amazing rendezvous with an Indian is hilarious. While going through other write-ups, I suddenly came across a blog on the Red Light Region of Amsterdam. His memoirs took me down the memory lane, when I visited this enchanting city of canals, back in 2011.  

Never would I imagine walking through streets filled with prostitutes in Kolkata. The eerie feeling along with sad reality shakes me, every time I pass that area. But things are pretty different in Amsterdam.

First when I was told about the region, with dazed eyes I said, “People stroll around the area as a part of their trip; insane or what?” But l must confess there was a bit of excitement too. After all, who gets to visit a country everyday, where prostitution and drug is legal! 

P.S: Photography not allowed, so we took it, legally of course!

And then those houses with red lights come, where girls stand in the glass window wearing bikinis. They don't look poverty-stricken rather in good shape (looks are always deceptive, I know and they of course need to maintain). Men were nearly pounding on the doors, mostly to have a talk with the good looking ones or to make a bargain. Some might enjoy the legal right whereas some only enjoy the mood of window shopping. As per me, I found my blood pressure rising. What the hell! There were bikini girls everywhere and after a point of time I found it boring. Western culture is always very receptive about all these stuffs; so what's the big deal about an area specified for sex. Stupid dramatic fuss!!! (Nautanki sala!)

But then there was another surprise, shops selling drugs openly. Yea I know it’s legal, but a huge shop like that selling only substance was shocking. There were even museums of sex!! I feel enlightened and saw what Red Light Region actually is as well as learnt the real meaning of the word. 

As I stand on the small bridge facing the canal, the entire region was lighted with red or pink lamps. Red happens to be a color that symbolizes love but to be more precise, it is the color of temptation here in Amsterdam.  

Dark Tourism- A Mirror of Your Life

Few days back I was reading a blog that speaks about Dark Tourism. My first reaction was, what does this term actually mean? How tourism can be dark? Is it one of those life challenging trips? And then I learned dark tourism referred to those places, which have left a dreadful impact in the minds of people.

We all love to see those beautiful castles, royal palaces, blooming gardens, cascading falls and other such pleasant depictions. But do we like to visit places where tragic incidences haunted life of people? You may frown but think for a minute, why won’t you visit these places? Traveling ought to give you pleasure but it must also tell you that life is not always about happiness and comfort.

Death, blood, flesh- a sight which you will definitely hate to experience but why deny the truth! Human civilization is not all about positivity, it even bears the burden of clashes, betrayal, hatred and torture. 

Dark tourism is about a feeling called silence that comes after a series of frightful events. It is about witnessing the fight which comes with a hope to live again; it is a struggle against what was wrong. Dark tourism is a reality check to the sweet melody of life. It proves how pathetic we, the humans are! 

But is it that dark? I guess not! Dark tourism is a warning to the mankind. It points out a period in our life which is depressive, yet promises to give a better tomorrow. It proves, life never stops and there is always a bright day on the other side of a dark night, giving you a chance to live again from the ashes of a horrifying life.