Kolleru

Its only serendipity that can bring such experiences into one's life.

We (Pankaj, Siva and I) were on the grim task of evaluating some of the post-tsunami reconstruction projects in coastal Andhra Pradesh. Long, long journeys were punctuated by hot and dusty stops at featureless, monotonous, army-barrack like projects. Hearts were heavy and the limbs were tired. The soul, as usual, seemed to have a million questions ...

What saved the trip was the wonderful, green, dotted-with-tanks landscape of the coast. The beauty was indescribable.

And then one tired afternoon Kolleru happened. Kolleru, I imagined, was a huge lake. And when the field team talked about boat rides, my ears perked up.

Never, never, never, in my dreams I would have imagined an experience like this. Kolleru was no simpering lake. It was a huge expanse of a wetlands ... that swayed to the rhythm of flooding and receding waters - leaving behind a vast variety flora and fauna. The fishes thrived. And the place was a Birds Paradise. In half an hour, we must seen at least 30 varieties of birds - ranging from the tiny twittering ones to the silently, meditating 6 footers !



The boat-ride was through a forest of "kikisa", tall reeds that grew giving a tunnel effect. The swirling, silent water seemed to hide myriad of secrets in its depths under a vast bird-filled sky.


The trip included a visit to a remote island village which was famous for its temple. But remote or not it boasted a bar. The hoarding seemed incongruous in the setting, sitting side by side the temple ! But then there's a strange rightness in that - for, after-all, both promise Nirvana !

The trip that lasted a good 2-3 hours, ending only as fell, seemed like a reward, a compensation for the task we were doing.

The soul was replete. Filled with gratitude.

Raja Hindustani

When I saw the movie Raja Hindustani, I had thought that the character was rather exaggerated and a tad crude. Raja seemed quite unreal - until I came across a real-life Raja Hindustani !

During our travel to Mandu, our very own version drove us from Indore to Jhira Baug and then to Mandu. He was everything the filmi version was and a wee bit more ! Attitude oozed from his pores, and his self-confidence was amazing. One didn't see too many questions about himself in his eyes. He was pretty sure he liked being what he was.

Of course the journey was peppered with ego-tussles - between us (Shirley and myself) and "Raju". While we were enjoying the mystic of Madhya Pradesh and wanted silence in the car, Raju insisted on entertaining himself with loud music. While we wanted some nice, soft instrumentals that would compliment the scenery outside, Raju insisted on listening to gaudy item-numbers. We tolerated one another - well for 10 minutes at a time ! When we bullied him, Raju would sulkily give in and put some soft numbers - for all of 10 mins. And just as were settling down and our attention was distracted, he would surreptiously change the music !! We would tolerate it for all of 10 minutes and once the music started getting on our nerves, we would insist a change. Finally, we came to an agreement - that we would play music of our choosing for half an hour at a time.

Raju was insistent not only about music. He was also very clear as to what we should eat, what kind of tea we should drink and everything in between. We, of course, were regaled with his personal history - he quickly sneaked out a picture of his wife ... and showed it to us, while he shamelessly flirted with his passengers.

Partly amusing and partly irritating in turns, Raju however became an indelible part of our memories of Mandu.

And now I am not too certain - whether the filmi characters are made from real-life ones or whether the real-life people taken on flavours of the filmi bunch.

Forever Mandu

Mandu brings to mind tales of Rani Roopmati and the dashing Baz Bahadur and their eternal love story. The palaces and pavilions of Mandu and its inner city are well known, shrouded in sheer romance. One can very well visualize the beautiful and coy Roopmati waiting for Baz on the top of the hill in the windy pavilion, her garments and hair flying, while the rest of her maids and friends would giggle and play music.


The Ujali Baodi needs a special mention. Of course Ujali seems to be much, much more modest and simple compared to the Chand Baodi ... but she still seems so timeless and beautiful. Her criss-crossed steps lead one deeper and deeper into the distant well. And when one looked up one could imagine people around, talking, washing clothes, bathing, filling their pots, tinkles of bangles and jhanjhars ... Yes, it does have a magic of its own.





But what took my fancy during my travel in Mandu were the abandoned, neglected ruins that dotted the landscape for miles. And the way the present integrated with a distant past seemed eerie. The current day villages blended with the old, old domes while the baobabs provided their own stark silhouettes as a background.

The current-day wells seem as magical. The stepwell where the cattle drank seemed like a page out of history books, the shadows under the trees so very dark, the water a dark green, while the cattle came white and glowing with the bells around their necks tinkling. The cool light breeze rustled the leaves and the place was blanketed in a great sense of peace.


The Jhira Baug where a friend of a friend put us up kindly seemed surreal. With its elegant balconies, swaying trees, and luxurious, princely rooms, one lived the life of a princess for the one night we stayed there.

As we returned to the chaos of Indore, the Magic of Mandu clung to us with sticky fingers, leaving an indelible mark in our memories .... forever.