thoughts frozen in time, to share and to grow...

Friday 31 October 2014

a winding path


there is a path, in the tropical forest.
through the crowded leaves.
the tree canopy blocks the sun.
while shiny eyes flicker in the dense foliage,
yes, a path lies in the undergrowth.
to be made.

there is a path, in the swamp.
through the waters, wading.
the feet fall inside the muddy relief.
while weeds inside come alive it seems,
yes, a path lies in the wetlands.
to be tackled.

there is hope, beyond the many doubts.
through the dreary dreams, through trepidation.
the feelings of others are oft used,
to deny our self the chance of relief,
while anticipation turns to apprehension,
yes, a path lies in the mind.
to peace.

Up the forest in Kanchenjunga National Park, Sikkim.
The path made under Tenzing Norgay's directions to reach Kanchenjunga through Goecha La in Sikkim

Monday 25 August 2014

Beyond 11500 feet... Story 1: The glacier and the eagle

      The crunching of the powdered ice is echoing repeatedly in the mind. With every step, it keeps getting louder. Only a single pair of boots crunch along.
       It's hard to decipher the surface of the glacier. Slippery ice in parts, a powdered snowy slush in places. Sometimes the feet go few inches into the surface, other times its rock hard on the top.  By now the harsh summer sun has made vivid melt patterns in many places. Intricate designs that are now being trampled upon by heavy shoes. The glacier doesn't seem happy. Melted water rivulets keep flowing on the face, crisscrossing the glacier. At places the water dives into the surface ice, disappearing into the unknown.
       Amulya Saxena, is giving no thought to the dangers of walking on the glacier. Aged 29, he is settled in his work, recently, in June 2014, having been promoted as a software analyst at a multinational in Chennai. This morning though, far away from civilization, his mind is in a state of limbo. His fatigued body makes its hundredth stop since starting the descent from the ridge. He looks up behind him. The escarped walls of the glacier's cirque(amphitheater, literally meaning arena in french) again tower above him. The scale of these 1200-1500 feet tall white walls is incomprehensible even while standing right in front of them. His eyes move westward, following the ice walls to the ridge of the mountain peak. He sights a Himalayan Golden Eagle, gliding majestically, high in the blue blue sky.  
       Three hours back, when his will finally did surrender, he opted to not climb higher than the ridge at about 19500 feet above sea level. The summit 600 feet higher still. Twice while ascending the steep incline he had given up on the climb, but somehow he pushed on till the ridge. Not any further, his body decided and the mind readily complied. He then had to descend alone.
       Amulya was looking down on the glacier walls at one point of time. The sun had just risen. He was looking down, when he could keep his eyes open. The descent from the ridge was on hard rocks. The trail hardly visible. The mind asked the body to keep on walking. The legs cooperated for 10-15 steps, before they stopped for another break. Many a time he slipped on the loose soil between the uneven rocks. Using the trekking pole and ice-axe, he balanced his body with his hands while going down. Amulya kept having a recurring thought. He wondered how he climbed this much altitude in the first place.
       On reaching the glacier bed, he did not look for the early opportunity to cross it on firmer ice, just after the ridge decent. It was all dark when his group had made their way up, now he was too exhausted to think straight. He threw his gear, the ice-axe clattered down a few rocks. He sat down and forcibly ate. Two boiled eggs, lots of dry fruits. He then walked on white. Direction less and lost in the enormity of the terrain. The insignificance of his existence kept growing in his mind, the ice crushing below his feet with every step.
       His mind wanders. Transported to a vision from the past. He is 12 years old. He is on a trail in the hilly forest next to the old family farm in central India. The deciduous trees are almost bare. His father is walking a few feet behind him, letting him choose the path to the hill top. He trips on a protruding stone, camouflaged under the fallen leaves on the forest floor. A few scratches to his knees, but he is good. He looks behind, his father is waiting patiently for him to recover, to assess things on his own. He is directed to move on. Its the clear look in his fathers eyes that he most remembers, the strength that his father provides, silently. Amulya finds peace in the forest, with his dad behind him he explores the jungle.
       A couple of kilometers have now been walked on the glacier, zigzagging the terrain while searching for the proper way. He stumbles upon a snake like 4-5 feet wide crack in the ice running across his path, blocking his dazed and directionless slow march. There are brown mud deposits on both the banks, like blood bleeding from a cut. Is it a deep crevasse or just melt water that has made a twisty mini gorge on the glacier? Inside, about 4 feet down the surface, water is gushing around at high speed. 
       He looks down and sees flowing water below the sheet of ice he is standing on. Cracks develop in the ice below his shoes. Amulya suddenly feels great fear, the glacier is now demanding he move away. He cant find the trail to walk back. All seems lost and his muscles freeze, he is unable to move. He has never felt so alone on earth, his eyes scan the big valley for another human being, none to be found. White light starts emanating from the glacier in patches. It beams all the way till the sky. He is blinded through his sunglasses. He falls to the ground. The blue sky is now seen through twitched eyes. He fears being engulfed by the glacier.
       How did his relationship with his father come down to this. He has hardly spoken with him in the past five years. The baseless fights he had during his years of rebellion come to his mind. How he ran away from home without a thought about his parents. How after graduating, he has hardly even bothered to speak with them. He never gave them their due. Never shared what he has now become. Life was not stopping for anyone. He felt a lot of regret building up.
       All seems lost for Amulya, he is hardly able to move. He wants to rest on the ice now. Already he can feel the wetness on his back, the cold slithering up his body.
       Movement.
       Something is falling towards him from high above in the sky. He strains to look at it, frozen in fear. Its the eagle in a dive, it is closing in on him fast. He stares as the eagle. A few ripples of courage make him not want to blink. Ten feet from the ground, it opens its large wings. Time is almost frozen now, all is in slow motion. He sees the pointed claws open. They make eye contact. A piercing gaze meets his eyes. The blinding white lights cease. Just as Amulya braces for impact the eagle swoops up and flies to the north east, a gush of wind hits his face. He gets on his feet, fast. He jumps the narrow gorge. He leg slips while landing at the other side. The ice-axe is hurled into the snow, it lodges into the ice. He clings with one hand on the cold slope, prone on the ground again. He recovers. Adrenaline is running high within him. He runs behind the eagle, not wanting to loose it from his sight. High and far above, the eagle lands on a high rock jutting out the top of the mountain slope. Breathless but charged up he keeps running, dodging obstacles of ice. Amulya finally crosses the glacier. He stops to gather his bearings.
       A hundred feet away he sees a typical man made stone pile, marking the way. The re-emergence of the trail? Another stone pile comes into his focus further away. He has found the way.
       He looks up to find the eagle.
       It is nowhere to be seen.

       Amulya can hardly remember what happened during the remaining down hill trek. After 3 more hours of walking he takes another turn on the trail, a new valley opens up. He finally sees the base camp (at 16300 feet) in the distance, about 500 feet below him. Exhaustion and a weird awakening form a heady concoction in his mind. He sits down and surveys the scattered tents below. He sleeps at the turn for half and hour before resuming the final walk to the camp.
       All he can think about is getting back to civilization.
       All he can think about is making a phone call to talk to his father.

Story 1.

Friday 11 April 2014


simplicity!!!
class!

a dear friend designed this logo for my architectural consultancy.
been using it since 2009.

Monday 3 March 2014

a bridge too far

photo-shopped it is (picture by vikrant sharma)

yes, it is a leap of faith.
do i make it to the other side,
or a change of clothes is in order?
have i timed my jump right,
or did i ninja cartwheel too soon?

while in this frozen moment,
i think about making the landing...
my feet brace for the imminent...

while in this frozen moment,
the past is behind me...
the exhilaration is still not lost.

Tuesday 18 February 2014

dead end

there is an anxiety in anticipation,
threads connect over a few conversations.
 
is there a futility in expectation,
many defenses need to be ruptured yet.

there is a vague comfort in patience,
the will of a soul can not be forced upon?

is there any genuine reflection,
the sands have slipped in between the fingers before.

there are moods that hold fort,
there is a tension in unison,
is there a joy in surrender...
___

the anxiety sinks in the ocean of calm,
the expectation doesn't return with the tide.

while reflections off the water ripples, dance around in gay abandon,
the stones lie on the stream bed, waiting patiently.

pic source: unknown via internet