Wild Horse

Read this beautifully inspiring poem in the Euro Tunnel. It has been with me since 1997........

Ride a Wild Horse

Ride a wild horse

Against the sky

Hold tight to his wings

Before you die

Whatever else you leave undone

Once ride a wild horse

Into the Sun

- by Hannah Khan

A Summer Flower Show

I choose this name for the photos that follow simply because nature displayed some of its most spectacular floral shows for our pleasure during our week long stay at Mukteshwar. The blooms, most vivid in colours and contrasts, would turn any person a poet.

Summer!

A clear view
(met this amazingly clear headed shepherd on a hazy summer morning at Mukteshwar)


Thrash it out
(And this lady was not at all camera shy as she informed us of a good view point to click her from)

Read between the lines !

(Mountain people have a certain agelessness as if they too become a witness to the great play of nature just like the mountains)

Podcast !

(A pod from the cotton tree )

Acquisition of past

Fountain pen- a thing of the past. Today, I acquired one after many years. Its such a good feeling to deliberate over ink bottles (not many choices , though, at the local shopkeepers). My kids are over the moon because they think its a 'cool gadget'. And it is too- Eco-friendly to boot. At least I won't need to keep disposable pens anymore- the ones that are thrust in your face at every teller, restaurant and bookshop. I think that we are seriously lacking in style both as individuals and as a collective.
The fact that one size fits all, does not apply to the fountain pens (as the one that you use is the one that works for you) lends you character. The right angle, the right slant to get a good hand, a good speed.. there is an understanding a relation between you and your tool.
My first fountain pen (when I was Eleven) was a stout gold pen with a black checkered pattern on it. It sat quite plum in my hand and its smooth nib was like no other I encountered after that. It belonged to my mom and I held it like it was a sword - like I was finally ready to take my place in the world.
But these days such small initiation ceremonies are lost. My son takes some plastic tube to school which looks just like the rest of them and not like some wondrous wand that wields magic.
But then again, maybe its a good thing. For I cannot imagine the SMS language penned down in a flourish to last an entirety. Its best disposed off!

My Takhti

A takhti, traditionally is a wooden board,quite resembling a clipboard of today but with a twist. And to write on a takhti you need 'siyaahi' (ink) and 'kalam' (pen). And then, just write straight onto the board. So, what do you do when there is no more space on the takhti ? Well, wipe ad clean it and start again. Over time it gets worn and looks like an old chopping board. And therein lies the romance of a takhti.
For me, Takhti represents old ways. It represents time when it was still measured in hours and days and not in seconds and nano seconds. It is an echo of an era when we still bothered to remember spellings, when disposable pens were not an option. A takhti probably, gave 'a clean slate' its first meaning.
So, it was only apt that this chapter of my journey be penned on a 'Takhti'.
Does anyone still posess an old Takhti?

The Quest of a Believer. Once there was an island and people lived on it quite happy in their believes. Then came a boat full of people which happened to be passing by. Now, they see the island people waving at them and assume that they are looking to be rescued. Whereas, all the islanders were doing was wave at them with joy. So the boat people jump off shore, look at all the strange rituals and decide to 'educate' these poor souls. In doing so, they undo all that is of value, qualifies as uniqueness and gives one roots. Now the island people no longer want to be on the island. The boat people, however, weary of their travels and still not happy, settle on the island. A true interaction happens then. And the boat people are humbled and realise their search. Now they try and rescue back the island-boat people causing much angst, debate and faithlessness and a deep feeling of loss- of time, energy and peace.

And that more or less sums up the relation that the world and Indians have when it comes to valuing the age old beliefs of our country specially when it comes to the inner quest. We love it when the world endorses Yoga, loves the sitar and finds haldi a great antiseptic. Why is it more palatable when it is wrapped in candy coloured wrappers? As if the over hydrogenated West has to give us a nod for us to start believing in that which has always been ageless. Imagine that- An Endless Shelf Life.

It is this 'thing' , this 'gyan' that I seek. And my first step - take it as a detox regime- is to simplify- thought, action, reaction and its meditation.

How it all started

There is a world of images, expressions, feelings and sounds that surround us ... each one of us. Some that we like, some that we don't. Some surprise us, others shock us. Some we keep in mind and some we readily forget. And then there are those that defy all logic and leave an imprint on in a life altering manner. This blog is about all that. It is what I choose to take from what the world has to offer. And hence the name "Takhti", which in my grandmother local punjabi dialect meant the writing board. So I hope that you enjoy these musings as much as I did thinking them.