Rudranath

It all happens at 11 pm,
there must be something peculiar about this time.
Facebook tells me that a friend is leaving for Gaumukh,
and my own 'keeda' raises head,
To Uttarakhand, I declare,
and this time, find someone who is ready to come along.
So, by 11 15, we are at the metro,
catching the last one to Anand Vihar.
'where are we going?' I am asked.
'Lets see, which bus we get,' I reply.
'to Uttarakhand for sure.'
The ISBT is full of people leaving for Haridwar,
and so are the buses run by the government.
There is a private bus to the Deev Bhoomi,
and we get in.
The next few hours are the worst in this journey.
We are packed like cattle,
huddled into another bus,
with no space to move, forget about reclining.
(NEVER BOARD A PRIVATE BUS FROM ANAND VIHAR for Uttarakhand. Its a corrupt nexus and they charge double the fare, make you change bus as you enter UP, and drop you outside Haridwar)
at sunrise, we arrived at the foothill town of Haridwar,
to move up to Rishikesh.
This was 'season' time,
and the buses going up were full.
We managed to sneak in, and find a place on the bonnet.
I thought, 'all is going wrong, lets go to a place I know.'
And so, this time too, it would be- Anasuya.
The place less known,
the place where I find peace,
in the lap of the Himalayas,
lies this village of Anasuya- my closely guarded secret.
I know the few people who call this place home,
to an extent that i told my friend,
'don't worry, we are going home.'
By evening, we reached Mandal,
from here started the trek to our destination.
Passing through the village that made me write this poem the last time I was here-

बड़ा शोर है यहाँ,
निरंतर बहती नदी, है चट्टानों को छूती,
उसकी आवाज़ तो है ही यहाँ.
पर कहीं दूर से धीरे धीरे पास आती गाय के गले की घंटी,
और उसकी धीमी पदचाप.
भौंकते कुत्ते का गुस्सा,
पास वाले घर में अम्मा की बोली,
अरे, चिड़िया भी तो साथियों से कह रही है, ‘चलो घर चलें’
भैंस रम्भा रही है, ‘मुझे दुहना है या नहीं?’
चरवाहे की हांक उसकी अनगिनत भेड़ों की आवाज़ में भी अलग सुनाई देती है.
भेड़ों के गुज़रते झुण्ड से उडती धुल में कहीं खो जाता हूँ.
तभी झाड़ियों की सरसराहट ये कहती है की यहाँ कोई और भी है.
एक बंदरिया अपने बच्चे को गोद में लिए घर लौटती है, मुझसे पूछती हुई, ‘कौन हो भाई?’
नदी की निरंतरता ही है जो इन सब के बीच स्थाई है, बिना रुके.
खुरों की आवाज़ सुनता हूँ, और जैसे ही मुड़ता हूँ,
एक बूढी गाय मेरे करीब आकर मुझे सूंघती है- मैं इसका भोजन तो नहीं हो सकता, इसलिए आगे बढ़ जाती है.
दूर किसी घर में खाने की तैयारी हो रही है,
और झींगुर की पहली आवाज़ यही कहती है- रात अभी दूर नहीं.
वाकई, बड़ा शोर है यहाँ.
translated as:
Its noisy here.
The sound of stream, flowing turbulently over the rocks, fills up the background.
But Ah! I recognise a cow approaching me by the tinkle of its bell, and its slow stance.
I feel the anger of a barking dog, and the sweetness of the song coming from the nearby hut;
the call of sparrow to its friends- Lets return home,
the bellowing of a buffalo, waiting to be milked.
The sharp voice of a shepherd is still heard distinctly in the rumble of his huge herd of goats and sheep,
and as I am lost in the cloud of dust left behind, the movement in the bushes warns me, ‘you are not alone here.’
A mamma monkey cautiously crooses the path with her kid, stoppping for a second to ask me, ‘what are you doing here?;
Before I can answer her, I feel a touch, and look back startled.
An old cow smells me, to check if I am edible, and moves ahead, not interested.
I hear the evening rush for dinner coming from a distant household, when,
the first call of cricket annonces that night is approaching fast.
Amidst all this, the sound of the stream provides a never ending continuity, as I prepare myself to depart.
Indeed, its noisy here.


A village that takes you back in time,
as you move up through it.
we could smell the forest around us,
and a calm surrounded us.
as we moved through the dense forest,
steadily, pushing hard.
And as the moon rose above the hills,
we were outside the village.
I was expecting the three dogs to chase me,
as they did before,
but none of them noticed us,
till we reached the main temple.
I knew people here,
and went to my host- Madan,
who runs a small 'hotel'- Himalayan Shikhar Lodge.
A tea followed, with catching up all that happened over the past few months.
Within 5 minutes, all the traces of the tiring journey vanished.
Dinner followed, and we slept,
after declaring that we would be leaving for Rudranath the next morning.
Rudranath- The remotest of the Panch Kedars,
was 14 kilometres from here.

the next morning, we were woken up by the sound of birds- I have never seen such variety before I came here,
and one does not need to declare this a bird sanctuary.
The feathered friends live happily in the dense forests here.
By 7 am,
we were on our way to Rudranath,
and Madan's wife had packed us some lunch,
after a hearty breakfast.
Now began a trek, which would leave us exhausted,
But more of it later.

waiting for the next day details ...

Nice sharing...especially the way you presented things on this...keep it up