kalpa’sblog

Feb2023

The next journey. Now, I was looking for deeper connections. A time to ignore the itineraries and follow the mind.

This time the travel is with my brother Prasad to Bhutan.

Perched on the edge of the Mighty Himalayas, travel to this tiny unassuming kingdom is like taking a Buddha pill. Creates an inner calm (at least till I reached Terminal 3 in Delhi)!

Inspiration source- a TED talk about Gross National Happiness by the PM of Bhutan when I got back form Costa Rica a couple years ago. Bhutan is Carbon negative and tops the league table for happiness. Reason enough to go.

Bhutan is ruled by a much loved monarch Jigme Wangchuck (by far the most popular surname in Bhutan). A constitutional monarchy with a parliament democratically elected. The country defies stereotypes. This land locked country has no Ubers, Starbucks or western food chains. TV arrived in this country as late as 1999! Tourism started in 1980s. Rice is red here. There are more flags than houses. No card machines. No traffic lights even in the capital city of Thimpu! People were driven by karma. Time is measured in cycles. As a strong collectivist culture, individual birthdays aren’t considered important- everyone takes 1st of Jan as their birthday (not good for password choice!!!)

Hold that thought. Keep the scene in your mind alive.

Add boundless meters of flapping colourful flags on mountains, the mighty Himalayas with snow peaks as a backdrop, colourful chorten prayer wheels in street corners, an air resonating with spirituality, marooned by monks, whitewashed monasteries and a symbolic tapestry of faith. The locals are in traditional attire- Ghos which was akin to scottish kilts with a dressing gown for a top! Add an unclimbed world’s tallest peak at 24500feet, rare red neck cranes, Tangka paintings and a country full of trees to this image.

Close your eyes. Mix the two and marinate! What you see is Bhutan.

If you are destined by the Gods and GPS

You land in Paro. The airstrip at Paro is super short and sandwiched in a deep valley. The Druk Airways flight (even the airways sound mystical) is a quaint aircraft that reminds you of air travel in the 70s and takes you over Everest literally. It makes a sharp 45-degree turn and faces this ultra-short landing airstrip of 2000 meters at Paro just at landing. This makes this a challenging landing that only a handful of pilots can handle. We stepped into the most beautiful airport that I have ever seen. Felt like entering into an art museum with traditional Bhutanese woodwork. A vision imprinted in my mind(and my phone of course). It was indeed a vision- of His Majesty the King who inspired the concept to reflect the country’s art, architecture and beauty as visitors walked through its arrival doors. 60 local artists worked tirelessly to produce this fantastic entry into Bhutan. A QR code connects you to the art. For the rest, there is Mastercard.

Even the armed gaurd at immigartion smiled serenly. A happy start, in a happy place.

Kuzu zangpola (Hello)

Punaka Tshechus

Punakha sits at the confluence of the Pho and Mo rivers(the male and female river according to our diver). As we negotiated the bend of the down hill from Dochula pass, the regal imposing whitewashed fortress -the Punakha Dongz stares proudly at you. Stunning. Sharing some views.

As Ram and Prasad chase the birds with a long zoom lens, my eyes get drawn to a riot of colour at the enterance to the magnificnet Dongz. The Punakha Tshechus in all its glory was on. Tshechus is a local festival where locals dress up in their finest and come to the Dongz for the day to witness colourful dance dramas in lavish costumes with a big tangkha painting of Guru Rimpoche unravelled on a tall Dongz wall.

The day long open air event is a riot of clour and hosts masked dancers, monks dancing, jesters and there is a Tantric cham. One of the tantric visual aids for meditative practice is the mandala, which means “circle.” In Buddhism it is a device for leading the initiate deeper into the realization of the nature. The dancers are accompanied by monk musicians chanting and playing long horns, clarinets, cymbals, drums, and conch shells. The red-masked Atsara figure is a traditional comic character, his act combining wit and wisdom, humour and responsibility. His role is to help the audience to forget their worries with his jokes and to puncture their self-importance, hypocrisy and false propriety through his pranks.

The atmosphere was festive. The musedover the faces behind the masks, the monks who watched the world go by, the long barritone of the horn and a rather bored head monk was central to the fesitval. A scene to remember.

If the traditional male dress of Goh reminded me of the Scottish kilt, the Tshechus was akin to The Edinbugh Fringe!

An absolute do not miss in the trip to Bhutan!

I say this again, its people who make the differance. (A dollop of stunning scenery to this does’nt hurt).

Now for the photostory.

Dont worry, Be happy

Gross National Happiness (GNH) -heard of it? The term ‘Gross National Happiness’ was first coined by the fourth king of the Kingdom of Bhutan, King Jigme Singye Wangchuck  in the 1970s. GNH was more important than GDP he stated. This is achieved by incorporating 4 pilars into the constitution (Governance, cultural and environmental preservation and socioeconomic development). People are the happiest and country is green. Not a coincidence surely. Bhutan has weaved sustainability into its national identity. This is in the face of increasing tourism (which only opened in 1974, by the way) Most tourist pay a daily fee of $200 (SDF -Sustainable Developement Fee) which contributes to basic accomodation, a guide, internal non flight travel. A daily sustainable development fee of $65 is also included in the package. This goes towards funding education, healthcare, and poverty alleviation, along with the building of infrastructure to accommodate growing tourism. High value low volume tourism concept.

Children are taught hapiness in school. Time I caught up on these missed lessons.

Mindfulness city-heard of it?

6 weeks ago, the Monarch announced this riveting concept city to be created close to the Indian border. Gelephu-the mindfulness city. The masterplan shared features ribbonlike neighborhoods in the new City resembling paddy fields, cascading terraces from hills to valleys. The city’s density gradually increases from rural to urban areas, facilitating a smooth transition between different living environments. Shaped by waterways, Gelephu becomes a land of bridges and connect concepts of past and future. I read they house airports, meditative staircases, traditional Dzongs (monasteries) etc.

What an amazing future plan!!

Eye of the Tiger

For the few who have googled Bhutan, the first and lasting image of this spectacular Monastery perched on the edge of a 3120m vertical cliff called the Tiger’s Nest would have flashed up. Paro Taktsang monastery is a cliffside Buddhist temple in the upper Paro Valley in Bhutan. Accessible only by foot, the site is one of 13 small “tiger lairs” where eighth-century Buddhist master Padmasambhava, also known as Guru Rinpoche, is said to have meditated. It gets its name because he is said to have made his way here on a flying Tiger. He finds a cave on the sheer rock face and meditates for 3 years, 3days, 3hrs and 3 mins. From the vantage of a wooden bridge, the valley unfolds — golden light casts a glow on tree-covered mountains and sacred peaks. Prayer flags with tattered ends that have been eaten by a hungry wind are hung precariously over a drop-down dead gorge. We trudge skyward with locals and claret-robed monks and enter the cave.  

“We call this the wish-fulfilling temple,”

Fully soul filling it was indeed!

My blog check list– Food. The locals clearly believe that meal without fiery chilli is unworthy. If you agree (as did Deepika Padukone), you will be in heaven. Even before the praying monks!! The country’s national dish -Ema Datsi is strong “Dole” (a red chilli) , local cow cheese. Replace chilli with crowd pleaser potato-it becomes kewa datsi. Ezay and thingey- are side kick chutneys and a must to taste . Best with hot momos. I watched and learnt our homestay hostess Lhakpa, make the spread and realised the locals like simple easy assembly cook (not exactly Avadhi dum biryani). Suju, the salty butter tea followed from Ladhak her and was make of yak lassi- or dare I say- “yuk” milk! These were the best around the Bukhari (a central heating Aga like room heater) in Gangtey village. 3 Michelin stars straight for ambience.

Try out the “Dotsho” the hot stone bath with some mugworts thrown in. Try it at Punakha Aman resort if the pocket is feeling heavy!

And a “dolma” paan if you want red lips and teeth stains via a legal stimulant to give you the spins. For me, the altitude and company was enough!

And, dont miss a hand at Archery-the national sport!

Om-Mani-Padma-Hum

The chant to enlightenement. Two portals- the flag and wheel!

Flags everywhere

The prayer flags of Bhutan casts the fluttering magic spell everywhere. Ubiqutous. The flags come in basic colours, have deeply religious mantras inscribed on them. They are tied in spots where the wind force is the best. Each flap, releases the mantra into air, each flutter multiplies it to the heaven. The five colours represent the five basic elements of nature: earth, fire, water, air and sky. They can also represent the five basic emotions: joy, fear, sadness, disgust and anger. A positive mindset and pure intention sets our Karma and this is carried by wind above. The flags had me in Ladhak but they mesmerismed my soul constantly in Bhutan. The tall verticals (Dachog), the reems or rows (Dhars), the white verticals (Manidhar) signify various senitments and as they fade, it is beleived the prayers have been despacthed and accepted.

Wheels in motion

Again seen everywhere. Spiritually rivetting.

Buddhist texts speak of “turning the wheel of dharma” which led to the concept of the prayer wheel, a mechanical device that consists of an embossed hollow cylinder and a rod that runs through its height. Inside the rod is a tightly rolled-up scroll of mantras. 

Spinning the prayer wheel is equivalent to reciting mantras. Each spin of the wheel is as effective as reciting the mantras orally, multiplied by the number of times the mantra is printed on the scroll. A common souvineir, portable hand help wheel (Mani) , a wind wheel in the centre of Paro, a water wheel .. they all turn clockwise . Turn it once in your life and perhaps it will cleanse your karmas and create a right rebirth! Believe in Bhutan!

Bhutan, Believe

A tagline that speaks the unspoken.

Bhutan is at the cusp. There may not be a Starbucks hiding behind the Wangchuk homestay yet, but certainly the Google impact on balance between tradition and modernity is happening as we speak. Will GNH become complementary to GDP and macro economic reforms? What happens when the youth of Bhutan travel west and return home a generation later? Does Bhutan not have to keep pace with the fast changing world? Will the Khira and Gho be in garment bags next to torn jeans and T shirts in the Bhutanese cupboard? What about the brain drain of the youth to Australia? I could snse a gaurded approach to embrace the big bad West. The locals steered away form small talk about “western infulenece” that might complicate the Bhutanese Tourism Board narrative of the only Shangrila status. Is it going to be the last “Shangri La standing”?

Well, as Buddha says You can only show the way..

Hope I have inspired you to try this tonic for the soul travel one day! Dont leave it till too late, Starbucks may beat you to it!

Thank you for reading, Kardin Cheyla as the locals say!

Summer 2023

Destination Madagascar

Like every other tourist, I went looking for lemurs. I came back fascinated by the Malagasy people and more taken by the intensely fertile burnt orange soil of this almost extra terrestrial piece of mother earth. In an artist palatte, the shade would be described as “burnt sienna”. An intense orange sun in a bluer than blue sky above and a vivid burnt orange soil to match below. A match, making this heaven!

Madagascar. A place which screamed of “Utter otherness”(to coin a phrase)! Wikipedia will tell you that it is the 4th largest island, 250km off the coast of East Africa in the Indian Ocean separated from Africa almost 100 million years ago. It is home to more than 200,000 species of fauna and flora, including 11,000 endemic plant species, 420 different kinds of endemic reptiles making it a biodiverse hotspot.

What it will not tell you is that it is a bit of French, a bit of Afrikans, a bit of Borneo, a lot of unique madness and very wild and very poor! Evolution towards oblivion!

Come, let me show you Madagascar through Ram’s telescopic camera eyes and my own reading glasses adorned eyes!

Imagine a cloud or great melee of russet brown dust, add a Cebu (bullock) cart and a dark skinned innocent Malagasy lad atop. A glorious sun. This would be the setting.

The scenes would be Michelin Madagascar(the terrain is like unique courses by a master chef)+ the Malagasy people (the centre point)+ Faddy (the unusual culture) + Poverty and Corruption (+ the sad reality of Madagascar) + the Madagascar Vanilla!

Michelin Madagascar

A restaurant is usually awarded a Michelin star based on the quality of the ingredients, the harmony of flavours, the mastery of technique and it has to have a personality! The 200,000 plus species of flora and fauna, neon coloured chameleons, the lemurs, the sacred Baobab trees, the long leaf orchids certainly are a few top quality unique ingredients. Not to forget the gremlin-like aye-ayes and satanic leaf-tailed geckos, indri indris, sifakas, fossas. The harmony of the dust and people lends personality to this biodiverse island. Ultimatley, what you see and hear in Madagascar, you only can see and hear in Madagascar.

The adorable Lemurs are what old grand masters are to an art critic. They are from pre monkey primate times and their brains are capable of processing some complex information. They have a steroscopic vision and nimble grasp. Now, I simply have to mention their awful vocal cords!

We walked the wet rainforest in Andisebe by day and night and the dry beige forests of Kirindy under the sun and moon too. The giant fronds of the ferns and cycas, the carnivorous plants, Madagascar jasmines and the large tree orchids grew wild and dense.

The amazing Baobab trees in Alley de Baobab was everything I had imagined and mega much more! In reality, it is actually totally gaunt and awkward unlike a stunning autumn acer. It is larger than life or a bit like what dinosaurs are to animal kingdom. In fact, it looks like the big tree was up rooted and placed upside down as the branches are leafless. The bark is harsh, spiky and this mega succulent cannot be easily destroyed even by a bull dozer. The Afrikan sun did total justice to the magnificence and our cameras just did not stop the clicking noises till the sun completely set. Capturing the magnum opus of this larger than evolution tree at night with the milky way was a different challenge!

The photographs of the this world apart clearly demonstrates that Madagascar has more than a Michelin personality . In fact, they have custom made their evolution path. It is like Noah’s Ark tipped a few odd looking fusion creatures in the fossil era into this island called ‘Mad’agascar into the Indian Ocean. This land is truly Michelin! Just do not expect Michelin restruants, particularly if you are vegetarian!!!!

Malagasy people

And so, we arrived in the capital Antanarivo (Tana to the locals). If I dropped a pin for location, it would be 300miles to the Tropic of Capricon, 1000km to the nearest Mac Donalds (in Reunion), and 2000km to the closest Starbucks in Joburg. I watched a local Malagasy lad balance a mobile phone on his rusted bicycle. “It is a fake Chinese phone” said Tujo our driver. The Malagassy Lamba was a rectangular cloth that both men and women wore wrapped around. Some had bright Baobab prints, some a sunset. A Malagassy hat and a yellow face pack on the faces of the ladies completed the look. The market places were full of chaos, colour and clutter. A mix of hand made baskets and second hand mobile phone. People seemed happy and comfortable in the dust.

The country has over 18 well known tribes and in Antirabe town, a pillar was created with all their names. Merino (those who come back home), Sakalava (those in the gorge)were the only two I could remember. We crossed back west to east from Morondovo to Tana which spanned more than 600km on muddy pothole carved roads and saw several villages and tribes enroute. The small towns enroute were often fithy, unlit in the night and has small “hotely” which sold rice and cebu. Toju paused in one hotely for his rice meal and it was here a middle aged woman smiled and looked with interest as Ram sprinkled salt and chilli on a freshly cut pineapple which we had for lunch.

I walked with Nester, our rain forest guide to see his home in his village crossing a railway line and a small rice field. Time had stopped in the early 70s of rural India. The small wooden shelves in the shops had basics.

Mora mora which means Slowly slowly is THE Malagasy mantra. Everything takes time here. Patience and forbearance are therefore good companions in Madagascar.

So if you are a punctuality fanatic and mutate into a choleric if something goes wrong as planned, Madagascar is the wrong destination for you.

Faddy (FAH-Dee’)

In this bizzare island, a lack of faddy or social taboos would have almost been disappointing! Fadys rule the Malagasy community. Wearing red to a funeral is faddy but you wear red to meet your elders and ancestors. Nester, our Malagasy guide showed me a Faddy in the dry forest of Kirindy- a red cloth tied around a few trees – “the bleeding tree” he whispered “dont touch it but make a wish” he said. Similarly, the Merino tribe feel seeing an Aye-aye is faddy, as it represents evil and so they were often killed on sight.on the other hand, killing Indri indri is again faddy as it reperesents the ancestor spirits.

Tujo, our well travelled Merino tribe guide told me never to point a finger at a tomb or passing graveyard. Tsy ny tany no fady fa ny vavan’ny olona, He quoted a Malagasy proverb: “It is not the land that is taboo but the opinion of the community.” Faddy was a link between the sacred and the current.

After a taste to Vaasthu, fengshui, a touch of quirky faddy is totally understandable.

PS-Do not pack a red swim suit! It is faddy!!!

Dire Straits-Poverty and corruption

Tujo said something to me when I got chatting with him about his life and his children’s future-“Alep maty rahamtiso Toyizay maty androamy”. “It is better to die tomorrow than today“. It sounded fatalstic to me. To put it in perspective, an average Malagasy daily wage is $2 a day. There is a thread of desparation amongst the locals woven into the fabric of their lives which is around the political apathy. The Malagasy practice of slash and burn where a portion of the forest is torched down by the people to cultivate rice in the land is a prime example of “good for economy but sad for ecology“. Like wise there is a frail balance between the fading lemurs species and human needs. The coverage of illegal trading of rosewood form Madagscar in the Gaurdian recently demonstrated even intervention of the IMF has done little to stop this. Trafficking routes for wildlife, ebony and precious stones or cannabis seems to be same and the porous laws are not strong enough to reduce the depeletion this unique biodiversity. Tujo says, “A big mafia is behind this and they’re close to our government.” Empty political promises are reflected in the eyes of the locals, guides. It made me pause and reflect upon life. Mind the big gap!

Madagascar vanilla

Did you know, vanilla is an orchid! It is a liana that leans on a tree trunk, usually a mango tree or an avocado. It blooms 3 years after planting and it is necessary to wait further 8 months for the pod to ripen. Its preparation is very tedious because it is entirely manual and requires a lot of rigor, patience and love. The pods are first scalded, parboiled, sun dried for two weeks, flattened by hand, then dried in the shade for 8 months in trunks and finally calibrated. There has been a ten fold surge in the value of the Madagascar vanilla. Voatsiperifery is a very rare wild pepper found only in Madagascar. feeling pleased with my small packet of exotic gifting, I decided to get a bold wooden abstract for my travel wall. Zafimaniry are an ethnic group in southeastern Madagascar, and are known for being skilled wood craftsmen. Typical Madagascar now on my study wall. Madagascar’s famous Antemoro paper has a grainy appearance, is an off-white and often dried flowers are embedded in its finish. The long road trip back to Tana provided a great opportunity for more hand made artisan products.

As I watch the grey blue sky at home, I imagined leaning my cycle on a magnificent Boabab tree in my front garden and smile wistfully to myself. Wonder where the next journey is to! I realised, like the chameleon of Madagascar, one eye is in the past travels and one eye looks to the future! For now, a fistful of burnt orange soil has made the difference!

Mora mora, bye for now.

Feb 2023

Vanakam, vaango and welcome back to yet another blog!

This time, the blog is a narrative about our hybrid cycling trip. The destination- back home to Dakshin- the South of India. Over 30 friends (travelling from across the pond, the UK, Dubai Mumbai to Chennai), an assortment of riders and non riders (our first true hybrid ride) set out to explore the traditions and temples of Tamilnadu, India.

A tribute to Ram.

His vision of cycling the Ponniyin Selvan trail years ago created a template for cycling in the South of India covering some of the magnificent Chola temples. Add Madhu (yes the same Leh trip creator for whom what is uncharted to most is home for him) to the concept. Then spoon a huge laddle of South Indian hospitality at our family home in Salem. The result, an unique and bespoke custom made, hybrid trip on cycle and coach from temple to temple. As always, Ram’s eye for the perfect imperfections of the journey added a soul to concept.

Next three 3 key components- dear friends , dearer cycling, dearest traditions.

As I gaze at the laptop screen weeks later, trying to relive this journey, I reflected deeply .. I realised that this trip represented a “True Me”. I was equally at ease with the 6 yards of sari or the bib shorts, tender coconut or isotonic fuelling gel, cycling up the Alps or along the banks of the river Kaveri. The “Kovil-cleats- Kaapi” combo bridges everyday mundane to the spiritual eternal with a cycle .

Lived it!

Loved it!

Cycling

340kms. Flat land except for the Yercaud hills.

The route- commenced in the temple town of Kanjeevaram, covered parts of Ponniyin Selvan land, (made more popular by the timely Mani Rathnam blockbuster release, PS1) and made its way towards our hometown of Salem and ended in the Yercuad hills

The path was along some well-paved roads via bird sanctuaries, east coast roads, some busy and some quiet country roads along the emerald fields by the river Kaveri and finally up the zig zag hairpin bends of Yercaud hills.

The bikes arrived in untraditional tempo travellers! And the support vans were a couple more of the same bright yellow tempo travellers! Madhu smiled confidently after the traditional coconut breaking and flag off. And,

The GoPro was on!

Early starts at dawn meant lesser danger on the roads. As riders, we were pretty disciplined. As riders of Indian origin, our basic instincts and reflexes on roads were right back with us within the first half day of cycling. Apprehension was soon replaced with cautious confidence. We all unanimously loved it!

My daysack had Amma’s Kanjeevaram sari, a bindi and some flat footwear instead of weatherproofs, arm warmers and inner tubes. My headphones had Vedic chants and an audiobook of Ponniyin Selvan instead of hip-hop and jazz. Our pit stops had tender coconuts instead of water and were at small roadside idli stalls!

We stopped cycling well before midday and eagerly looked forward to joining our non-rider friends for lunch and the sights. The helmet on the head was rapidly replaced with the jasmine flowers on the hair. A transition that I loved!

We managed to cover grounds in the history of the Chola empire on two wheels -a golden era of the South Indian past. In spirit, for some of us cyclists, this was a ” golden era of our cycling ” – back to our origins and cycling in our home territory.

On the penultimate cycling day, will remain “THE” most memorable day in my cycling memory. Pedalling along the lush banks of the Kaveri river, I reached my 190-year-old ancestral home belonging to my grandparents. Funny, I never even had a dream to achieve this. One word to sum up this coronation moment in my decades of cycling- I felt-“overwhelmed’ The experience renders me fumbling for words and then, of course, paved the way for this blog!!!!

Sharing pictures as I. am still fumbling !!!

Finally, the hairpin bends of Yercaud

Kanjeevaram Korvai

Our carefully curated trail commenced at Kanchipuram( the iconic town with the maximum number of “Gopurams” or temple gateways). For some, it was at the famous Kamakshi temple, others at the Kancheevaram idli house and for most at the exclusive sari shopping retailer!!

Like the warp and weft of an iconic kanjeevaram sari, this blog is intertwined and locked with timeless memories and unusual experiences. The tale is woven with korvai. “Korvai” refers to the nimble way a border and Pallu is attached to the main body of the 6 yards of the body of the sari. It also means “being in sync” as Amma explained. A korvai sari gives freedom to splash colours to the body of the sari, experiment with new and old border patterns- the annam, peacock and plays with contrasts in the pallu and pleats. So much like cycling. Cycling unleashes the free spirit, explores contests of the world and weaves patterns form spiking peaks (the tower) to giddy zig zags linear flats.

Every single one of us succumbed to the allure of the silk in the silk sari shop. Each one had an unhinged desire to take home a sari fresh off the looms. Linda and the retailer made the experience truly exclusive. Face time calls to wives in the UK, no inhibition haggling, some of the men even modelling some rich weaves with surprising grace, the rummaging of the entire stocks in the shop for “that” perfect sari…etc made the atmosphere at the store a huge form of retail therapy!

I paused. I stepped back and took in the displays. Certainly was an Instagram sensation. The narrow streets of the holy town spanned countless gopurams (temple towers) and my eyes roamed over several gopurams on the sari borders and the temple motif continued on silk. Weaving meets worship. Seamless!

And thus, the scene was set with the Gopuram backdrop for the days to come. The GoPro captured the Gopruram on the road and we bowed in salutation as we biked.

The korvai continued to intertwine with the kovils as we adorned in saris to most of the temples visited.

Kaapi

Coffee is a beverage.

Kaapi is an emotion.

Kumbakonam dabara kaapi is a kick ass life loving experience.

Morning Kumbakonam dabara kaapi in Mantrakoodam is celestial.

As a child on summer vacation, I watched my Thatha wrap a thin towel around his steaming hot stainless steel tumbler and froth up his decoction kaapi. Breaking the Brahmin orthodoxy, I have caught up with barista coffee, Vietnamese egg coffee, Italian strong brew, civet coffee, Turkish coffee, Costa Rican coffee tasting, to name a few. But, have reverted full circle to the first Filter Kapi with South Indian coffee powder, as the morning brew at home!

The Kumbakonam degree kaapi for the uninitiated is a strong frothy filter coffee with the purest fresh undiluted milk brewed with carefully selected chicory beans. The “degree’ suffix stands for the degree of purity of milk -using a milk meter.

Mantrakoodam- our CGH Earth resort at Kumbakonam was a perfect setting to wind back time and take a sip of the brew early in the morning at daybreak watching the fog drop on the Paarvati shrine in the resort. The chettinad breakfast was being laid out as I waited for Vijay to go to Uppaliappan kovil and dare I say, I percolated in the moment.

Chapter two of coffee calling was set in the stunning 100-acre Irish Tipperary estate in Yercaud. The cycling route took us into the coffee plantations. Coffee was grown, roasted and packaged in-house. Sathy, the humbly proud owner of this slice of nature’s heaven perched on the very edge of a hill, shared his estate with all of us. By day we took in the experience. By the evening, every single one turned a poet or singer by the crackling campfire. In fact, it was our own “Sound and Light show” by the nostalgic embers of the bonfire.

A hospitality unparalleled.

Well, the natural progression from kaapi to tiffin in the South Indian household takes me to write about our “saapadu”(food). Of course, idli, dosa and sambar were an integral part of the week. Having eaten a few thousand dosas in my lifetime and having listened to the word being pronounced in myriad ways by my friends from Texas to Chennai ( at times it sounded like Homer Simpson’s “Doh”sas even!!), it regained the top favourite unanimously. Tongue-tingling delicacies three times a day, interrupted by snacks on the bus and the insatiable urge to constant munching did damage to our waistlines and Bhuvan will single-handedly vouch for this! Eating Chettinad-style saapadu in Lakshmi Vilas made me satiated enough to write a thank you note in Tamil. The palm fruit on the street vendor cycle(nongu), goli rose water sodas, delicious hazel nut cake from Vandana, the road side Biryani in Ramaligam hotel, Sathy’s live open kitchen in Yercaud, Jay’s last supper at 10.30am which was a wedding meal to mention a few. My priceless moment was sharing a Mysurpa with my Periappa in my grandfather’s home with some dear friends. A taste of the good life and an aftertaste to linger forever indeed!

Kovil

Kovil=temple

Madhu’s bespoke itinerary took us back by 1000 years to some spectacular temples of the Chola dynasty covering the land which was the mother of history, grandmother of traditions and great godmother of legendary temples. As the GoPro commenced from Kanchi Kamakshi temple Gopuram, we headed to the sand-eroded shore temples of Mamallapuram, Chidambara tillai Nataraja temple, Kumbakonam temples, PS1 famous Veeranam lake, Kadambur kovil, Gangaikonda Cholapuram (GKC as nicknamed by Solihull friends), Tanjavur Brihadeeshwara temple and my personal favourite of Darasuram temple to name a few

The imperial Chola dynasty reached its zenith in the 11th century AD and masterpieces of architecture “The great living Cola temples” was aptly bestowed on the last three temples mentioned above.

The Shiva Lingam in the sanctum sanctorum of GKC temples was lit up by the sun rays reflecting from the massive Nandi standing guard. Even if all lights in the sanctum are put off, devotees can see the Lord in the sunlight.

Darasuram. As we stepped across the temple threshold, my gaze is drawn to a stone-carved chariot with a charging horse which seems to hold the temple wall on the left. the Gopuram is tiered in a fluid pyramid and the attention to detail on the microarchitecture was perfect, to the last manicured nail and anklet details. A masterpiece!

Sculpture is indeed the art of intellect.

The “Big temple” of Tanjore has made it big among temples. Chitra Madhavan, an archaeology master calls it “the most monumental” among monuments. The Gopuram here has a massive single obelisk of a stone weighing close to 100 tons in the Vimanam. We walked down to admire the Nandi, soaked in the temple premises and took a piece of history as we headed home.

Whilst this blog provides no value to an arm chair South India tourer or an aisle seat reader enroute to India for the first time, it is a sharing of an unique journey on a cycle for a keen cyclist who has a thirst for history. A full circle moment where a marriage has happened between cycling and seeing the world with friends who have left India decades ago and come back for a rediscovery of their home away from home. Hope this inspires my reader friends to take that OCI card out!

Having dipped our toes in the River Kaveri, where my next landing page will take me!? Keep moving, keep moving with a smile..as they say..

Summer 2022. A dozen cycling medics. Our dreams stronger than our doubts. Together, we take on cycling some of the world’s highest motorable land amidst the formidable Himalayan ranges of Khardungla and Tanglang La. Well, literally took our breath away! But filled our souls with achievement!!

Julley! From top of the world

Ladakh (Land of High Passes)

An extraordinary territory. To me, this is how Mars would look. As we pedalled across the land, it felt like one continent had slipped under another mass of land in a tectonic dance. Mystical; actually spiritual. The combination of the cycle wheels and prayer wheels in this spectacular nomadic land woke my dormant “chakras”.

This epic journey, was a time for several firsts in my life. My first long ride on home soil. My first experience with an off road bike. My first ride on thin air, literally, as we cycled above 15000ft most of the times. My first ride where the support vehicle has oxygen and dexamethasone. No garmin needed. My first trip with a heady combination of photgraphy and cycling! And now, my first blog combining photo holiday and cycling.

Our softly powerful trip leader was Madhu (what a befitting name). Although every cyclist and photographer in the group was a born leader, when Madhu smiled and spoke, we meekly obeyed!! Madhu knew the land, sensed its moods, and kept us safely going onwards and UPWARDS!

The calling… the cycling

Even as I completed Lejog a couple years ago, in my cycling life, I had an urge to fill the gap of cycling in India within my own life cycle. At just under 19000 feet, it was THE next height to scale. When Ram mentioned winter photography in Ladakh, it clicked into a photo/cycling journey. And Madhu masterminded the two into an epic blend of seamless journey.

Our traditional coconut breaking before our cycling flag off was in Manali, but our trip began before that when we all met up in Delhi. In Manali, like kids wearing school uniform for the first time, we tested our hire bikes and said hello to Akash (our bike support who also held a certificate in level 2 mountaineering). We had 5 support cars which followed us as we set out of Manali. We took on the ascent to the Atal tunnel very early on. We were introduced to Maggie and chai in pit stops and never looked back to protein bars. We cycled to Keylong and reached Jispa via Sissu to our first night in the tents. I learnt there was no bar in Zing Zing bar and no whisky in Whisky Nalah (the bridge was certainly tipsy). A short ascent from Pang takes us to the extensive More Plains flatlands. A dream flat ride at 4800 ft. The only sign of life in this martian landscapes was the occasional nomadic Changpas tending to their herds of Yaks

Norbu, our driver from Tsokar, told us all about the Tsokar festival and his school life there; but said he wouldn’t bother going to his family home when we were in Tsokar, as he would spend all of winter there anyway. We camped in Tsokar on a freezing night and slept under a stunning milky way that Ram captured. That morning, Ram was up early and so was I. As he clicked in the distance, I got ready for Tanglang La at over 17000ft. My heart thumped, my lungs were as full (like the sev packet in high altitude). The road folded into long switch backs and cut right through the steepest maze of peaks. Arasu, Sajith and I paused, huddled and spoke some gibberish periodically and pressed the MTB pedals to the summit of Tanglang La. Madhu zig zagged on his motorbike through the barren, rich, iron mountains encouraging us with his smile. I took the final push and inhaled a piece of India and cycled the summit.

A day later, dare I say, the next peak of Khardungla at nearly 18000ft felt a tad easier. Arid rugged landscapes with some peculiar barren rock formations, loose gravel, pot holes and the never relenting steep gradients formed our landscape. I muttered my newly learnt Buddhist prayer line (Om mani padme hum), reflected on life and pedalled on, glimpsing Maninder’s flouroscent jacket a few hairpins above. I watched the Bihari workers chipping into the harsh rocks and their little kids watched us back curiously. As Maninder taught us through his daily diary- “Shramena sarvam sadhyam” (everything is achievable though hard work). PS- This is a Border Road Organisation motto- not Guru Maninder’s words. We finally did it! We had a sugary customary chai in the peak and headed to the tangle of prayer flags on top of Khardungla for iPhone pics. Hari and I created our own stone pile and left a legacy.

We were shooed out of lingering in the peaks to prevent mountain sickness, and took a glorious down hill from Khardungla. I was tipsy with an adrenaline overdrive. We paused. I craned my neck high to gaze back at the massive peak. Magnificent, rich burnt orange. Like an artist had used a large brush to take one enormous stroke. The art displayed hid a treacherous down hill. The memory remains etched in my mind!

As we cycled onwards into Nubra, the reels of prayer flags fluttered feverishly in the wild wind and seem to disperse holy mantras in the air, time and again – I loved seeing them. In fact, since my return to Birmingham, every time I see a traffic signal, my vision of the flags jump out in my mind and smile fondly. As we gained altitude, our attitude turned more positive. We headed to Turtuk. As we stood on the edge of the Indo Pak LOC, we listened to a narration from a tall Pathan villager about the 1971 Indo Pak war. Ram sipped his chai in the last Indian tea shop and Nisha dressed like a local. The terrain cycled was again spectacular.

Madhu had set expectations about Pangong high. Norbu pointed out to a ochre coloured range of mountains around a bend and showed us our first glimpse of this heaven on earth. Time for pictures.

And along the Pangong Tso, we rode and headed to the Indo China zone to complete at Merak. Even a humble cyclist like me felt invincible!

The Land. The People

The land was a veritable kaleidoscope. From the juicy apple heavy trees of Manali, to the formidable slopes of the craggy Himalayan mountains, to the army base territory of Siachen, to the lush green of Nubra oasis, to fine white sand stretches leading onto Tso Pangong to the fifty shades of Leh itself, every bend was a picture worth framing! (Just stole Madhu’s classsic line). There was a fragile beauty to old town Leh centre which housed the Tibetian refugee markets against the mighty Stok Khangri.

When we were at Leh, we witnessed the Leh ultra marathon and cheered the runners who ran the path we had cycled covering the Khardugla. As I turn the kaleidoscope in my eye – I see a range of pashminas (lots of Pashminas came from the town of Upshi), flashes of monks in maroon and colourful monasteries on steep hills. For example, the Jhampa Buddha statue in Diskit monastery loomed and looked down on the whole of India. Ultimately, the locals simply mingled with nature. They were kind and hospitable as if to soften the harsh and austere mountians. They were Indians; but they were actually Ladakhis.

Norbu is the 20 yr old driver of car no.3! He intrigued me. A scruffy, innocent face that hid a cheekiness. Scatter brained but switched on to keep a watchful eye on the terrain. He smiles sheepishly but dares his 4 wheels through a cascading waterfall. Arasu poked friendly fun and he responded with a fake girl friend picture. He was sport enough to be our local model for our idiocy with a sari photoshoot in Tso Pangong shores… famous for the 3 idiots movie! He was comfortable in a Ladakhi coat and a hoodie and sports shoes.

Norbu dropped out of school before he even started, stayed a nomad near Tsokar for 6 months in winter when he was not driving post season. It did not bother him when skipped fresh clothes and he loved his game of cards and a chang (local barley beer) with Dorge. He was a typical Ladhaki personified.

Dorge told me polyandry was common. A woman often married two brothers. Both weddings were graced by Lamas and the bride work a colourful headgear in turquoise- ‘a Perak’ which dangled shy of her waist. He aslo told me that wood was scarce and so they had an earth funeral and a sky burial where bones were smashed and flesh fed to vultures.

Talking of funerals, we briefly surfaced to Wifi availability to hear that the monarch Queen back in UK had passed away.

The toxic love for plastic by tourists (approximately 300 tourist cars a day add to the 50000 plastic bottles) is a very real problem, in a pristine remote region. Sadly, we were guilty of contributing to this! Responsible eco travel needs re inforcing in myself and this is a resolve. The BR road project hop to use this waste in road laying and one day in future make Leh carbon neutral.

Back in Leh, we has a cultural show organised by Madhu by the Ladhakis which gave us a further glimpse of the people and what each region offered and we joined in the Jabro dance Brummie style!!

Finally, the food

In this far flung corner of India, long caught between powerful neighbours, the culinary impact of this combination is Indo Pak/Indo Tibetian local food was evident. We opened our gastronomic account in the famous roadside Amrik Sukhdev Dhaba as we left Delhi where we had “happy one more bday Maninder”. Ram walked out with arm fulls of tongue tingling pickle dubbas and set the pace for our culinary journey.

Tibetian Thukpas made in umami base (often nettles) with lots of veg/meat and noodles certainly grew on us. I can still remember the one in Lato- after a downhill from Tangla La. I learnt khambir was the local sourdough baked in an open fire. In the farm to table homestay of Gyapthago heritage home, we had a live demo of making the salt tea. My notion of beloved Indian chai took a U turn as I took a sip of the salty brew with milk, Himalayan salt and yak butter! More like Yuk butter!!

Momos on the other hand were addictive. The fried ones – even better! Chutagi was like pasta daal dhokli and tsampa, yak cheese, chang (the local beer) were mostly home produced. We had an eclectic farm to table meal in a Baltistan area with walnut sauce and yogurt, fresh apricot juice and buck wheat pancakes and even a sizzler!

Even in the monasteries, parle biscuits, Maggie packets and coke cans were left as prayer offerings. A young monk gazed on and off at the food as he chanted from his scroll and I thought, spirituality runs parallel with food!! Unsurprisingly, almost everyone survived a day of a stomach bug but that did not stop us from having pooris for breakfast, parantas anytime, salt lassi or our joy rising every time we saw Rash walk out with loads of snacks from the tiny corner shops!!!

This remote stunning moonland of Ladakh faces ballooning tourism. And I am grateful that I was one of those. The 2 weeks of spanning this splendour in two wheels witnessing the surreal terrain, falling utterly in love with the white chortens (stupas) and the thanes (prayer wheels) has woken a passion to go back to the Himalayas again… and again. Everything is created twice they say; once in the mind and then in reality. The call of the Himalayas however is resounding!! The Tibetan traditions are endangered (like Cuba pre and post Starbucks invasion). I hope I have inspired you to add Leh to your travel list and visit before the magic is reduced by commercialism. As Ibn Battuta says- “Travelling- it leaves you speechelss and then turns you into a story teller”.

Leh Chal.. Ladakh is breathtaking indeed!!

Where there is a will, there is a way.

Where there is a will+ bicycle+garmin +team LeJog, there is an epic chapter in your life. 

December 2019…. Arasu instigates, Kalpa acts. An outrageous goal was set. Lands end to John O Groats on two wheels.  9 cyclists, one master -Ram- who mapped our routes, plotted our training schedule,  fed our hungry bodies, minds  and dare I say..even souls! In turn, the cyclists obeyed. No questions asked. They did not think of the enormity of the commitment- close to 1000miles over 10 consecutive days. They just focussed on moving from pit stop to pit stop..one step at a time. 

17counties

1 global pandemic

2 storms

6 wet days

Over 100 hrs of butts on saddle time..

When I was at school..I was an affirmed zero in sport. At the memorable most, held the school flag in the march past. Certainly not the one nominated to cycle end to end of a country!! This simply goes to prove..NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE!

For my non cyclist  friends, LeJog is every cyclist’s distant dream equating to ultra marathons in cycling world where our endurance is challenged beyond borders. 

THE TEAM

Mad medics- Animesh, Arasu, Hari, Kalpa, Mahesh, Maninder, Nishant, Ram, Ravinder and the running insane legend Professor of Psychiatry Subodh. Together we trained. Certainly could have trained harder on two wheels. But, we made up for it by building a naturally strong team camaraderie. We all owe our success and enjoyment of this dream to the team! Like the spokes of the cycle wheel, each member held the wheel together and Ram moved the wheel with the right momentum! Amongst us, (for 10 days only), anything was allowed..from smelly wet gloves to temper tantrums. Whether in a peloton or a run away solo..we were in this together!

THE JOURNEY..IN A SINGLE WHEEL SPIN

Our body clocks were reset.  Early starts at crack of dawn..come rain come shine (more rain than shine sadly ). Bananas, gels, bars, back up charger in pocket. Day zero started with traditional coconut breaking , executed expertly by Christian at a busy start point in Lands End. I took in the rugged cliffs of Lands end as I said my ritual pre ride shlokam semi aloud. The heathers were abundant and the ochre lichen on the rocks set the Cornish scene for our start. We cycled past  “the last pub”  (or the first) of UK as our cleats locked in and butts settled on saddle. 

We had rider number 10 within 5 mins..Storm Ellen. Roaring. St Michael’s mount was in low tide exposing a rocky beach.  Cornish ice cream shops soon paved way to rolling hills of Exmoor.  Let me put this clear and simple.  The romance of Exmoor and North Devon coast usually had me think of Lorna Doone and the moors. Well, not any more.  Hence forth, it will HAVE TO be Quantock hills ! AONB- Area of no breathing @25% gradient hill.  Ouch!  The youngest in our group Nishant tamed this notorious climb in one smooth stretch. For the rest mere mortals, we took it and did it at our own pace! the last push of the ascent made Alpe D’huez and Dolomites seem a doddle! In fact, this single mile of crazy climb of 200m remains the best  mile of the 1000! Lets apply brakes for pictures..

The famous Camel Trail done, cycling along Severn Bridge we headed to familiar home territory of Midlands. The hotel conference room in Worcester doubled up as our bike store. I lay flat on the carpet of this big room doing my post ride stretches and thought- this is like a bike shaadi mantap- as I saw all our well wishers arrive to give us a much needed mid way morale boost! Smita and Nikhil joined us on the longest day form Worcester to Manchester and the miles melted in length with laughter as we poked fun at each other, passing stunning Kinver canal side and Stratford town centre. We whizzed past Manchester airport and a smile tugged my heart when I saw dear Shreeram waving a subway cookie as he cheered us at the end of 180km!

Furious storm Francis made Chief Ram call off the ride at 20miles next day as yellow card hazard warnings were issued due to torrential rains. In those 20miles, some never to be forgotten life lessons were learnt. Resilience! Yes Maninder, its already on my PDP as an entry! Compass was reset. Mental fitness overtook physical at this stage. We huddled like wet rats in a pub in Penrith and signed an unspoken treaty to keep cycling even if weather worsened! Perfect excuse for all weather gear shopping!

We bid adieu to England and entered Gretna – the town renowned for runaway weddings. Passing historic Lockerbie, we took on the Forth bridge and headed into the much awaited Scottish phase of the ride.

As I pedalled on the fresh grass that covered yet another cow catch and gazed around the moorlands, I allowed a love affair to take shape with remote Scotland and me. The highlands deepend the spell cast. Lazing cattle, marked sheep, a simple fence that created a boundariless boundary, windmills that emered from nothingness..it was mystical. We cycled in ribbon roads between stunning nothingness and limitless everything! Hari’s chatty banter in this undiscovered surroundings was more than music- a dessert island disc! The hamlet town of Altnahara will remain special for the entire group. For one- it was Maninder’s bday – a glorious beautiful celebration and also because it was undoubtedly the most challenging day to ride. A day which scrappped all our physical stamina and moved to challenge our mind games! Yet again, we did it!

The last day was picture post card perfect. We powered through Betty Hill and Thurso. We had some fab scones in the northern tip of the country (instead of Devon!) and tea at Melvich. Together we rode the last 3 miles with one final homeric push..to the iconic end to end sign post!!

PS- the start and finish was similar – one sign post to another!!

FOOD

The word created strong emotions in me. A salad based grazer, and a tambram thayir sadam eater like me had to face the reality of going into negative calories by day 3! I ate my first boiled egg and focussed on carb loading. The need for nutrition dawned too late and I had to work on losing my apprehension at meal times. “Coping” – another life lesson learnt! We had a loaded mobile kitchen- rice cooker included on the go! What else can you expect-after all, Ram ran the show!! Overnight oats with burfi- (Ravi’s nick name for squeezy condensed milk), eggs, boiled salted potatoes, home made power ladoos with dates and ragi, Arasu’s rose milk like recovery drink, Subodh’s maltodextrin fix, Maninder’s nimbu pani, my royal chai, Ravi’s beetroot concoction..we had it all – our fancies and treats!! Eating happened almost in the same frequency of breathing!! Not to forget local ice creams, scones, haggis, pasties, one shot venison, local whisky of highlands and of course group made kheer at Ganesh chathurti! Ram’s support was eclectic when it came to food!! Sammy’s healthy wraps, Sanchi’s chaat, Worcester feast and voted the best Linda’s idli vada for the beginning of the trip! A veritable feast all the way! As we took our finish line pictures, I resolved to go on a diet!!!!

THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVOURITE THINGS…

With the remoteness of the path came some hidden gems. We passed a train in Sutherland which I learnt was a hop off train wherever you wished in the middle of nowhere to cycle off ! Who needs a mindfulness workshop here! A remote barn, a solid stone bridge in the distance over no water, a close encounter with a sheep that gazes right back at you for invading its land, the pink wild flowers -rosebay willowherb that followed us for miles.. All these were balanced with the sight of our support car (blue Audi), a steaming hot drink in Chirstian’s van amongst nowhere, Mani darling’s “listen to me man”, and his early morning knock on the door to move us, our pink water proof socks!

The desi girls had every intention of putting of our trademark on LeJog. I can confidently say we are likely to be the original pioneers to wear our Saris proudly and photograph two loves together at the pinnacle of our ride- cycle and sari! We wanted to do it and DID IT!

We have literally reached the end of the road in UK . Strangely, it feels like the beginning of yet another life journey ! Miles more to go..before we sleep..Bye for now..