Traveling is good
Even appointments with gods come with privilege. A pilgrim with VIP pass could bypass all number and answer his/her calling with a privilege which a poor barefoot pilgrim couldn’t even dream of. An Amitabh Bachhan has more easy access to god than a mere “Nikhil Chandra”. Perhaps gold is a precious metal even among gods…who knows why the world is the way it is.
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नारकण्डा में कुछ देर रुकने के बाद हम लोग वापिस चल दिये. चारों ओर बरफ पड़ी हुई थी, हम लोग धीरे-2 स्कूटर चलाते हुए, गाने सुनते हुए वापिस शिमला-दिल्ली की ओर चल रहे थे. ठियोग ठीक ठाक निकल गया और अब हम फागू वा कुफरी के बीच कहीं थे. प्रदीप आगे चेतक पर था और मैं पीछे अपने सुपर पर. अचानक देखा, प्रदीप लड़खड़ा कर नीचे गिरा… विजय सड़क पर पड़ा था और प्रदीप स्कूटर के साथ घिसट रहा था…मैने जोर से बोला – प्रदीप क्या हुआ, और ब्रेक लगाई… बस हमारा स्कूटर भी लड़खड़ाया और मैं और अवस्थी भी जमीन पर घिसटने लगे. किस्मत बड़ी अच्छी थी कि हम दोनों का स्कूटर ऐसे कोण पर गिरा था कि हम और हमारे स्कूटर खाई की ओर न जाकर पहाड़ की तरफ फिसले और साइड पर पड़े बर्फ के ढेर से टकरा कर. हम रुक गये…
कुछ समझ में नहीं आ रहा था कि हुआ क्या है..
So with full gusto, I rev-ed the engine and started back amid beautiful landscapes, away from the thoughtful and calm gaze of Panchachuli, the peak which was in the back yard of our stay. The journey from Munsyari to Birthi was spent gazing at mountains, standing tall and quite, looking at the occasional habitat along side the road with Pahadi folk wearing black topis, half jacket over long shirts and pajamas and throwing infectious smiles as they go through with their daily chores. Because of rains, the road was not in its prime so we were a tad cautious; but there was an natural desire to drive a little faster and be able to reach Sattal, which as per our friends from Pahad was not a realistic goal.
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We were on a 8-10 feet mud track with the rock face on one side and a steep fall on the other side of the track. One of the kids in our group was playing. While running around the child fell and tumbled down the fall. The child’s landed onto bushes growing at the side of the mountain and the child was lying on the bushes. One of the instructors immediately went down with the help of a rope and carried the child back up. The child was in a state of shock and all of us were shaken up too. However the child was perfectly fine physically. We went over to a local doctor who examined the child and reconfirmed that the child was fine. All of us thanked almighty for the grace and agreed to be more cautious. Although shaken we wanted to move forward.
We were back in the camp by 5:30 and were raring to take up many other activities. There were a range of activities including Burma Bridge rope crossing, a ropes course, and a range of sports including football, cricket, volleyball, etc.
After Meerut till Ghaziabad the road was totally devastated at most places specially at Modinagar and Muradnagar (Though now the stretch is totally fine). After crossing the stretch, at Ghaziabad again there was a traffic jam at Hindon Bridge which is quite regular. We were stuck there for 1 hour.
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The urge to talk about Mehrauli Archaeological Park is literally irresistible now. After weeks of traveling and researching over the internet and books, I could not but wonder whether this is the most architecturally and historically rich places in the world. Turning the pages of history brings alive every alley and stone of Mehrauli area with a vigor which I had never ever imagined in wildest of my dreams as I passed through these streets over last several years I have been in Delhi.
Mehrauli is the site of plethora of monuments, so much so that a sense of history and legends pervade every lane and even stones, for here lived kings, sultans, generals, warriors, saints and monks. Prehistoric tales associate Mehrauli with the descendents of the Pandavas. Later it saw the building of Lal Kot, a bastion of the first real city of Delhi whose archaeological proof could be found. Then it became the dominion of legendary Rajput warrior prince Pritviraj indelibly ingrained in Hindu courtly love tradition. Qila Rai Pithora was witness to the glory of Prithviraj Chauhan who was later defeated in Second Battle of Tarain by Ghauri, whereupon the latter’s death, his slave Qutubdin Aibak made Mehrauli his capital and the Sultans and emperors who followed him ruled from there.
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Walking down the alleys of history, the road – Delhi Metro to be more precise – led me to Hauz Khas on an unbelievable Sunday. I say unbelievable because of the stunning clear blue sky which is a rare sight in Delhi especially during winter. Hauz Khas Village is part of many capitals but is best known as important site for: Siri and Firuzabad, with Siri being the third capital city and Firuzabad the fifth official capital and last of the Sultanate of Delhi.
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The marshland appeared more like grassland with bushes blocking the way everywhere. There were more grazing cattle inside than birds – I mean the birds which were supposed to be there according to the article. The ambience inside the park was more allusive to the Eliot’s Wasteland than the Wordsworth Tintern Abbey. You must be thinking I am totally nuts…talking like this :-) Well the thing is that I am writing this line on a few miles away from Sultanpur National Park, on revisiting the banks of “not quite” marshlands of the park and 15 months had passed since my last visit to this one time birder’s paradise.
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We started our walk and soon saw the first of the Sarnath monument, the Chaukhandi Stupa. A beautiful, well kept garden surrounding the Stupa welcomes you with dancing butterflies and chirping birds. Chaukhandi Stupa has a square base. This stupa was built during Gupta times. And later during Islamic rule, it got the peculiar head with edges. Built in red bricks, it was an impressive site, standing tall under a blue sky, silently remembering the era by gone.
This main road of Sarnath is lined with some beautiful Buddhist temples donated and built by several east Asian Buddhist nations. It really shows their affection and devotion towards Gautam Buddha and it’s land.
The drive to Rankandiyal from Kirtinagar is around 8 kms along a small hill stream.In the month of June,the water was very clear and one could even drink it.I can vouch for its purity.The whole feeling was nostalgic since it was after 6-7 years that I was visiting the place.The sun was following with us and in no time,we reached the village.We went straight to the nani’s ancestral house where there was a big pandal and music was full on.The whole atmosphere was very divine and we were feeling very light after a long day of travel.We both were given a room in my uncle’s house.The room was small but quite cosy and we had to take blankets in the night.Soon we both were dead.
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We left Jageshwar around 10, refreshed and forgetting the horrible incident of yesterday night. When we came out of Jageshwar road, there are two ways to go to Patal Bhuvaneshwar. The normal and shorter route is that we turn towards Almora and 5 Kms after Jageshwar turn right and passing Bare Chhina, Shera Ghat and by-passing Beri Nag, we reach Patal Bhuvaneshwar.
The other road, we were told is longer and lonely. So we decided to take this longer route, because we had enough time and I am so happy to drive on lonely roads. We turned to our left towards Gangolihat. The road was Ok for most of the parts and we hardly saw any car crossing us. Occasionally 2 or 3 trucks passed. The scene was beautiful and awesome.
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Qutub Minar of yore was entered through its four monumental gates of which only the Southern one renowned as Alai Darwaza remains standing till date. Along the western periphery of the precinct runs a giant wall with pointed archways, creating a ‘Qibla’ or the decorated prayer wall. There are several buildings in the complex most of which lay in ruins except for the exquisitely carved tomb of Iltutmish which is still in fairly good state. The structure of note inside the complex includes the magnificent Qutub Minar, Ala al-Din Khalji’s madrasa and the Imam Zamin Mosque.
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