lemming- jump into the Indische Ocean across to starting a residency in being non- resident- of- India. So IInd Class sleeper berths and state tourism bus travel was a blessing in disguise. Suddenly I felt like an Amitav Ghosh mated with William Darlymple type of person with a wanderlustful Pico Iyer thrown in for good measure. And the mood, waiting on the fly infested Pune railway station to embark on the "Dadar express" was deliberately Rubaiyat like "ah my beloved fill me the cup that clears...."- I wanna wanna sinfully indulge myself this time like this trip were a juicy hapooos amba that I shall never get to eat again.
I had been reminded some time back by a cousin from a nouveau- riche background that my parents were second class citizens who would never travel by car even if they were to buy one. For once I seemed to be happy with that statement.What with no chakks on the train, lots of laddus and Banganapallis - larger, sweeter and cheaper than the over rated Devgad hapoos- to get softishunderbellied on, backpacking with a Bhavnagri plastic bag through toasty dusty hot AP.......ekdum jhakaasmaal!!!!!!
So
me snaps.......Snap of the main temple at Tirupati. With my 1.3 MP cellphone camera!!!!!!
The sky is my roof, the earth is my playground.Astra Castra Numen Lumen
This is a shot from a distance of the same temple gopuram and the promenade around where folks camp day and night.The one really great thing in this snap- no, I am not referring to the golden dome inside the temple- is the verdant greenery in the background. If you feel claustrophobic amidst all the sweaty taklu crowd, you can always choose to cool off in the hills around the temple area.
Pushkarni.
Watching the people do their rituals here I thought I got some idea as to why the bathing ghats at Benares are such a draw for folks all and sundry. What could be so interesting about people dunkin themselves in water? Well....come and watch.....
The train rambles along, stupidly, trying to catch up with the sun, as the tracks wind around- sometimes west, running directly into the sun as it arcs into the horizon; sometimes north, disadvantaged by trigonometric inanities of resultant vector and all that stuff.
Life and Times are playing out their parts outside windows with railings like Pozzo and Lucky, while one watches listlessly inert,like an Estragon, as the scenery evolves from verdant green to burnt sienna to orange and magenta to finally pitch black. Only an amber signal light flashes in the distance somewhere.
