Ranighat

....also known as the Taj Mahal of Nepal. It was built buy a General about a century ago in memory of his deceased wife. They said it would be a 5 hour trek. It took us 9 and a half hours. The Nepalis are highlanders..seasoned to walk on the mountains. We saw fifthgraders prancing back from school laughing at us as we panted and puffed louder than the big bad wolf.
  Yet I'd recommend it to everyone visiting Palpa. It shouldn't be a challenge to anyone who climbs a flight of stairs once a day. It's better to travel in groups since there are no guides or directions.

   The trek to the palace is downhill and from is uphill. It took us more time to go downhill as we didn't know the route ...which was very unclear.....and we just didn't know if we were getting there. The trek begins with a steep downhill walk over a very rocky path. The people are really friendly and hospitable. The locals guided us whenever we came across them. The route moves down wooded hills and terraced farms....which I had always wanted to get close to....you can't run down them as I always thought :)...until you finally reach a stream...with ice cold water. This is the mid point to our destination. The stream crosses through the path at many places as you move downhill. The cold water soothed our aching feet. We walked through green forests with insects buzzing in the backdrop. All you can see for the next four hours are green trees and rocks. You tend to forget there's a world outside those hills. You pass by two small villages where the locals sell biscuits etc and have a couple of eateries offering simple food and drinks.

      It's difficult finding a loo...I don't think there are any on the way. One can be as innovative as he likes while in the woods.
   The stream forms rapids and tiny waterfalls along the way. You get to walk right through them at times. You cross a creaky bridge and walk downhill through more trees and springs till you finally get to the palace.
On our trip there was a landslide midway. We risked our necks and clambered over it to the other side.
     One meets the local people at the beginning and the end of the trip. It's very hard finding people to guide you mid way. As a rule of thumb...keep going down in a straight path.

a village en route

     The palace is not much to write about. It's like a big blue country manor. You have to show yourself in, unbolt the doors walk through the empty rooms and bolt the doors on your way out. The view from the balcony is breathtaking with the Narayani river flowing right beside the palace. How the General built the big structure in the middle of the forests a hundred years ago is a wonder. With no motorable roads people had to trek through dense woodland with bricks and mortar and wood .....seems impossible.
    There are eateries around the palace where we ate a bowl of noodles before the trek up. Towards the end of the trek we met someone who we had encountered on our way down. He said he hadn't expected us to come back so soon. Coming from a highlander..that was a compliment...we boast of how fast we walk whenever we can now.
    My description of the palace shouldn't discourage one from going there. The trekking route is excellent. The palace is good...just don't expect the Taj Mahal.

the palace

   Back in civilization....we hogged on pastries and noodles and momos at Nanglo's and headed back to the hotel to enjoy a well earned sleep.

That's a random picture I took at a local market at Bhairahawa in Nepal. I think it truly symbolizes the spirit of South Asia...unity in diversity....feel free to use it as your wallpaper or share it with a friend..

Palpa and Tansen

      Palpa, one of the first cities one encounters on the mountains in Nepal when travelling by road from India. It's a 4 hour ride from Butwal in a quaint little bus with the drivers cabin done up like a bride. I'd do the same if I were I spent most of my days...and  nights behing the wheel.

      We see the plains of the Terai fade away. There is a sudden drop in temperature as hills with terraced farms appear. It's best to sit on the left side of the bus. A local traveller brought two goats and a chicken onto the bus. One of those goats was huge. It weighed around 25 kg and was worth a fortune.

Durbar Square

    Palpa bus stop is very busy. It's an important junction en route to Kathmandu, Pokhara and other cities in Nepal. There are lots of really cheap hotels with the bare minimum facilities and of questionable hygeinic standards. One can find better hotels after a really steep climb up the hill to the main market. I staid at the Green Hill...just minutes away from Durbar square.

   Palpa was established by the Newari people who built houses with pagodas and huge wooden windows. The Greeh Hill is on a street lined with Newari style houses which gives an ethnic feel to it. It's right next to the Doco...a little restaurant in the attic of the house right next to it. There're just two tables so it's not great for a large group but one get's the opportunity to stare out of those windows I mentioned earlier. A Doco is a shuttle cock shaped wicker basket women strap to their backs and use as baskets while picking leaves in tea plantations. It's also inverted and used to cage poultry. It's a common site in rural Nepal.

a traditional Newari house

   There is no public transport on the hill. I didn't see any vehicles save for the odd motorbike. It's too steep for them.
   There are shops in the main market where one can purchase basic necessities. There are a few chemists but I'd advise purchasing essential meds before the journey.
   A small white tower is at the heart of Palpa. There is the Durbar...the court of the erstwhile princes which houses the municipal offices at present right next to it. It was bombed during the Maoist uprising and was being done up when I visited.
   There's a famous temple dedicated to Goddess Durga. There's a gala procession every year which I missed by a week. Nanglo's west, one of Nepal's most popular restaurant chains has an outlet At Durbar Square. It's huge and has an old world ambience with mats and low tables. Most waiters speak English so communication is not a problem for the foreign traveller.
  Papla is famous for Dhaka hats...the traditional headgear of the Nepali menfolk and copperware.
A short trek up the hill and one is in Srinagar...a beautiful hilltop full of pine trees. I love the smell of wood in the air which is so characteristic of hillstations. The best thing to do in Palpa is the trek to Ranimahal which I'll write about in my next blog.
Peace!

the view from my room

 

Nasik and Trayambakeshwar-day 4

Devi

My last day in Maharashtra. I didn't know much about Nasik. I did know it's the wine capital of India and it's evident by the number of vineyards you see on the way there. Too bad I pledged abstinence 2 years ago. Nasik derives it's name from "Nasika", the Sanskrit word for nose. Legend has it that Lakshman, Lord Ramas brother chopped of Ravan's sisters nose there. And yes, you get to see where it was done. Are taxi dropped us off on the banks of the Godavari in an older part of the city. It's called Ramkund because Lord Rama took a bath here while in exile. The river was not kept clean which is a pity. People were bathing and washing clothes and there was much all around. It barely looked like a river. Our expedition to around 9 temples ahead was pleasant.

Kalaram temple

Bajrang Bali

The first was an old Durga Mandir. A short walk ahead was the temple of Kale Hanuman(black Hanuman). The deity here is black as he was angry after Sita was kidnapped by Ravan. The temple is spectacular and the architecture is almost Dravidian. It is reminiscent of times when temples were community centres and literature, dance, music and philosophy flourished withing their walls. The smaller Hanuman temple faces a bigger temple housing Lord Ram. This temple is of particular significance because Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, the father of India's constitution performed Satyagraha here allowing untouchables to pray there marking a new dawn in the country's history.
 We befriended a family of four from Rajasthan and a very friendly couple from Karnataka and their playful son. As unbeleivable is it may be, we squeezed into one autorickshaw and saw the rest of the temples together. This was my favourtie part in whole trip. History was staring us in the face. Panchvati, where Sita lived during exile is named after five trees surrounding the cottage which still stand. The cottage has been turned into a temple but still housed a cave where Sita was made to hide when Ravan threatened to kindap her. It's a tiny rock cave we are permitted to enter. The cave has a niche in the wall for a lamp perhaps and a marble tortoise, Lord Brahma's chosen vehicle and a Shivalinga where Sita used to pray. It was one of the most captivating sights I've ever seen. Visiting this place is a must for any connoisseur of ancient Indian history.
The chatty driver took us to Tapovan. where Laxman did penance, Triveni, the place from where Sita was abducted and the Lakshman Rekha. The Lakshman Rekha was a line Laskshman drew arounf Sita's hut enchanting it with mantra's forbidding her to venture out of it's confines for within it she would be safe. It would turn to a ring of fire if a stranger tried to tresspass but it now is a narrow stream of water.
A museum showing the life the exiled trio lived is close by and is worth visiting. Guava's are a speciality and worthy of their fame.

Triveni

Mum at the museum with some goofy looking soldier



 We then went on a long but very pleasant drive to Trayambakeshwar, on of the Jyotirlingas. Our driver asked us to take our shoes off in the car and we had to tread on a very rocky and very dirty path to the temple. A word of caution, cameras are not allowed in the temple premises so please leave them in the vehicle or with a friendly shopkeeper. The temple was another stellar example of ancient Indian architecture. But before we reached the temple we had through wade our way through a long serpentine river of humanity. It was Poornima, the day of the full moon, auspicious to Shaivas. It took us an hour to get to the temple. After the shrine to Nandi, Shiva's bull, we entered the sanctum sanctorum of Trayambakeshwar. I ran my hand over the cold stone walls of the temple and over the marble carvings decorating them feeling connected with the sculptor, a common man who must have stood there as I did many many years ago. A door before the idol had coins hammered into it by devotees who visited before us. I saw a coin with a crown with "Empress of India" written above it reminding me of a once Victorian India. The temple has seen history being written, the rise and fall of empires and the changin landscape of the city it's in, but I doubt there has been any change in the faith it commands in the hearts of the thousands who throng to it.

Countryroads

   It was a long day. We reached the hotel at midnight.

Shingnapur-day 2

Shingnapur is a small town near Shirdi. It takes three hours by taxi. I shared my taxi with others going there. The route is splendid and the pre Diwali weather was just the perfect blend of warm sun and cold winds. You can see the quintessential Marathi manoos, hard working and well mannered in his white kurta and Nehru cap. How they manage to keep their white clothes spotlessly clean in the fields is a secret only they know. The rest of us and the detergent companies can only marvel at them. The Marathi word for brother is "bhau". Using helps one equate with the local population better. They are proud of their heritage and pictures of Shivaji, one of India's finest Generals from the mideaval ages is seen in most shops. I heard people speaking in the classic "wahan jane ka" and "woh khane ka" way Lucknowites like me have only seen in movies.

One can't help noticing that everything from the tea stall to the hotels you'll encounter along the way have been named after Sai Baba. "Sai-Kripa", "Sai-Varsha", "Sai-Dham" and a million other combinations can be seen all the way up to Nasik.

the pilgrim



that's me at the trident



Shani Shingnapur is the ultimate destination for all Shani Deva devotees. Shani or the planet Saturn is the divine judge in Hindu mythology. He is known a hardtaskmaster doling out harsh punishments to those who err and also blessing those who do good. He commands a special place in the Hindu pantheon. At Shingnapur(which sounds like Singapore the way the taxidrivers scream it out) is known to have the lord incarnate as a 5 and a half foot black rock. Local tradition demands that only men can touch the rock. Women however can pray from a few meters away. There are no priests in the temple and one can pray as he chooses to. Guides outside help you out with the rituals but one must be cautious of being ripped off. Donning a saffron sarong I took a shower and followed the stream of saffron clad bare chested men into the shrine. A Trishul (trident) was the first stop. Then the rock I mentioned above. All the while chanting glory to the Lord Shani. After bathing the Lord with oil as is the normal practice I asked for blessings and returned to my mum waiting close by. As I've mentiones before, pictures are not allowed.

my mum at Woodland's

Sugarcane juice being made

my second glass

Shingnapur has no doors. Thats's right! The shops, schools, private homes have no doors. The locals believe that their town is blessed and any misdeeds are severly punished by Shanidev. One has to see the place to believe it.

After a tasty Pav Bhaji, extremely popular in Maharashtra, and sold as as an inferior replication of in the rest of the suncontinent I hopped back into the jeep and headed back to Shirdi. The sugar cane juice made in the area is manna. Its is made from cane which looked thicker to me than the cane grown in my state. Its was made by a bull tugging along a grinding machine instead of the usual mechanical crushers used elsewhere. It's Maharashtra's gift to manking and a musthave for anyone travelling to the area.

A word or two about food in the area: shirdi has an array of tiny eateries and big restaurants catering all kinds of food. Famous are a "Udupi" outlet and a "Woodland's" which are especially popular for their South-Indian fare. Dosa's of all sorts, idli's, sambhar, curries of all kinds, Punjabi and even Chinese food find place in the menu. Uttapam's are spelt "Uttapa" in Maharashtra. There's even a Domino's pizzeria and an outlet of Cafe' Coffee Day. My favourite was the Wada with Sambhar.

reading Gandhi

It was pleasant all day in Shirdi but it rained for an hour in the evenings everyday. And when it rained, it poured. An umbrella is a must. The lightening and thunder was like being at the battle of Trafalgar.

Another interesting day lay ahead of me but I wasn't as excited as I was about the memories of the day gone by. I slept carefree, which I can only do on a holiday.

Holiday in Shirdi- day 1



Eklavya's thumb



Sai Baba of Shirdi commands the respects of countless devotees all over India and abroad. His simple teachings in compassion and tolerance are of greater importance today when aggression and falsehood are daily headlines. A trip to Shirdi where he lived is a wonderful way for his many admirers and devotees to feel connected with him and and an exciting journey nonetheless, for others.



bhakta niwas

 I took the Pushpak express from Lucknow and got of at Manmad, a small town in Maharashtra. A hive of black and yellow taxi's at the station gives you different options to commute to Shirdi. I took a shared van(Rs 70 per person). It takes around 2 hours to get to Shirdi. The route is a treat with the Sahyadri mountains( Western ghats) seen at the end of deep green fields. The soil is black ( great for growing cotton) and and the vegetation is a shade deeper than the green encounterd in the plains of U.P. where I'm from. A moutain has had it's top eroded away leaving behind a boulder which looks exactly like a thumb. The locals like to call it "Eklavya's thumb" (Eklavya was askef to chop of his thumb by his teacher in return for his education in archery).
Hotels are in abundance in Shirdi. You can't stop counting them. I chose to stay away from this galazy of hospitality and took shelter in BhaktiNiwas(dwaravati) managed by the Sai Seva Sanstha. They provided me with a huge room with running hot water and changed my image of a Dharamshala for life.
Increased security measures by the Maharshtra police prohibit photography in the temple premises. Though this was an inconvenience at Shirdi and most other places I travelled to around it, the law was made for the common good and must be respected.


the hotel room

 A long queue leads to the main hall where the idol of Sai Baba we've seen so often in movies and pictures stands. It moves fast and the Aarti and devotional music inside is worth the wait. It's in Marathi but I guarantee people speaking other languages will enjoy it as much as I did.
Beleivers say that all you ask for is granted there and one reaches Shirdi only by the blessings of the saint. The sheer multitude of people visiting the shrine each day is evidence to the fact.
After giving obeisance a tour of the premises takes you to Dwarkamai(Sai Baba's house), Chavri and the mausoleums of some important people from his day. Dwarkamai is a large stone house, stark and plain where the Saint lived over a century ago. One can see the place he stood by at the window lost in contemplation, his cooking pot, grinding stone and fireplace where he cooked meals for his many visitors. There is also a sack of wheat preserved from his times. The walls have niches where lamps used to be lit. Imagining the scene a over a hundred years ago with the Saint standing by the window looking at people go by in streets lit by oil lamps took my breath away.
Chawri is his friends house where he spent many a day. His friend being a Muslim read the Holy Quran to him and pictures of them adorn the walls.
Gurusthan, a Neem tree where Baba was first seen meditating is an important landmark.
A Hanuman temple, a few mausoleums and a busy little market must also be visited.

me at the market

Shirdi by night

After the trip i had a refreshing cup of tea at the cafeteria and went to my room. I slept instantly, tired after the long day. But a memorable day it was.

Faith and Patience-Baba's most important lesson

rock paintings by Tibetan refugees in Dalhousie