Friday, August 15, 2014








Leh: A World within a World

India is a treasure house of diverse traditional, geographical and cultural embellishes as reflected in its rich scenic beauty from tough terrains of breathtaking Himalayas to spell bounding beaches of Rameshwaram. It has been a spiritual guru of the world from the time immemorial and is emerging as a popular tourist destination now.

Away from the cities, lives an India where nature is still worshiped, people still live a very simple life; visitors are welcomed with open arms and where it is so easy to be happy!  In the northernmost tip, weaved between the Karakoram and Himalaya mountains, for centuries a vibrant yet compassionate Tibetian- Buddhist Community has existed in the Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir as the proud epitome of one of the nature’s most harsh displays of beauty, better known as Ladakh. I had the good fortune of visiting this wonderful place in August 2014. 

The Ladakhi economy was traditionally self-sufficient with conventional agriculture and herding till tourism became popular in the late 70s after first accessibility of motor vehicles to this part of the world. Tourists around the world adore it for its unspoiled, authentic and exotic charm.  It is an ideal destination, away from modernization and any kind of disturbance from the outer world. Unfortunately, tourism has the potential of commoditizing its serenity.

All those villages which are frequently visited by tourists are completely changed or are in the process of transformation. For instance, Ladakhi denizens are inherently very hospitable and it was in their culture to invite people into their homes and offer them tea along the lines of an ancient Indian tradition of  “Atithi devo bhavah”, which means that a guest should be treated in the highest regard  like a God. However, having realized the profits which could be made by commercializing traditions and with the encroachment of a materialistic mindset in their attitudes, the tea is no more offered for free unless somebody is really lucky to have an authentic encounter.Even the monks are changing their traditionally austere customs and turning into entrepreneurs by establishing businesses like restaurants, food stalls, shops, hotels etc around sacred monasteries. Also, prayer halls in monasteries are being turned into museums for visitors and an additional fee is charged to show around during special occasions. They now tweak the dates of their traditional festivals to coincide with the tourist season from June to September which traditionally has had no historic connection with their culture whatsoever.  With the advent of tourism, people have become overly ambitious and their simple values and integrity are eroding with time. 

Tourism has its own pros and cons. Every society grows and evolves with time albeit at the loss of authenticity which is carried forward from the past, but expecting it to not change would be utopian and unrealistic. However, I feel that a delicate balance needs to be maintained so that cultural and traditional values are preserved and passed onto the future generations. I am still relishing the memories of one of the best journeys undertaken by me and the wonderful local inhabitants I met on my way. Their emotional state and sense of security is an inspiration for whole human race. Ladakh’s picturesque places have lasted an unforgettable impact on my mind.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Grandmother...

While hearing about awesomeness of grand mothers from somebody made me nostalgic and took me way back in time. Back down memory lane , I started getting recollections from the time I began identifying people to the time I met her last. 

My memories of my grandmother mostly comprise of normal grandmotherly stuff- oil massages in the sun when we were kids, my experiments with her hairstyles, she trying to make us memorize all the hymns and chants she could before we frolicked away, narrating new versions of Ramayana each time, random bed time stories, cooking us yummy treats every once in a while, sneaking Marie Gold biscuits into our rooms when we threw tantrums & went to bed hungry, talking about her hometown back in Pakistan and its abundance in all its splendor as though she left it yesterday, always taking up my side giving full benefit of doubt and exercising her suo motu power to pass all judgments in my favor irrespective of the genesis of the issue.

The most powerful one of these tales was from 1947 when at the age of 30, she carried her 8 year old daughter and 11 month old son, two gold bangles wrapped in couple of bandages along her wrists, one sewing machine (which still flaunts shining tag of “Made in Karachi”) and bunch of essentials in an antique “peti” (still kept in my home in all its glory), all by herself, across the border from Sakhar in Sindh province to Gwalior through the biggest mass migration in human history. She witnessed one of the greatest freedom struggles of all time and then went on to build a home in a new, strange land and I still get goosebumps thinking of those descriptions of real time riches to rags story, changing of fate from a palatial kothi to a refugee camp in matter of a day. From managing Zamindaari in Sindh to starting again from scratch and doing jobs like selling papads and pickles when times demanded, makes her the strongest women in my life. And then it inspires me that my failures and disappointments are nothing in front of her struggle for existence.

She now rests in peace hopefully in a much happier place forgetting her pillow with me which we once used to share.