On Blessed Rainy Day and Ephemarality of Thoughts

I have decided not to bore anyone tonight. I am hard pressed to find content fit for the blog without resorting to tabloid tactics or talking about the weather. 

What about the weather? It is getting colder. The night low dipped a few notches almost as if on cue on the 23rd September. What gives? It was the same day as the Blessed Rainy Day, a holiday in Bhutan marking the end of the monsoon, as my friends from the Royal Bhutan Civil Service and Royal Bhutan Forest Service, a jolly bunch, informed me.

What a simple and pleasing name- blessed rainy day!

Rain may have taken leave of Bhutan but not of Mussoorie. It drizzled for sometime, drenching the multi-hued garden dahlias growing wild on the hill sides. The delicate flowers were akin to rain kissed damsels, their flimsy clothes hiding nothing. Only, there was nothing to hide for these flowers. The bees visited, reluctant, hesitant. Cliches abounded, like now.

Post the group formation, a sub-group, namely, couples, formation activity is on. Here, if I delve more into this topic I shall be breaching the 'no gossip' rule I put for myself. However, I shall mention any activity that may be of general public interest without compromising anyone's privacy. We shall cross that bridge when we come across it.

A note on the trek. I noticed that the full moon is on the 8th of October right when we would be in the middle of the long trek in the upper Himalayas. I look forward to 'moonlight on the mountain rivers', mists of love, Milky Way to my heart etc. Though the moon, prima donna that she is, would drown out the light from the stars. I was eagerly looking forward to spotting stars I last saw during my adolescence when I used to sit in the balcony of our place, books in my lap for pretence, gazing at the sky hoping I would catch a glimpse of a shooting star so that I could make a wish to fulfill my boyhood fantasies. No, the fantasies did not come true though events more magical and astonishing than my juvenile mind could fantasize about did come about. Such is life. We wish for something, on a shooting star no less, and something else happens, a cosmic surprise, far outshining and underlining the ephemerality and fickleness of our thoughts. Who am I to complain of my lot?!

On a Movie and a visit to Dehradun

"Day 19: Like Darwin’s finches, we are slowly adapting to our environment."

I borrowed the line from the movie 'The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel for the Elderly & Beautiful' (2011). Thanks to the Film Society for screening this good movie. It was an entertaining watch. Due to the recency effect, I shall borrow liberally from the movie. Like this dialogue, for example.

"Evelyn: The only real failure is the failure to try. And the measure of success is how we cope with disappointment. As we always must. We came here, and we tried. All of us, in our different ways. Can we be blamed for feeling we're too old to change? Too scared of disappointment to start it all again? We get up every morning, we do our best. Nothing else matters.

Evelyn: But it's also true that the person who risks nothing, does nothing; has nothing. All we know about the future is that it will be different. But, perhaps what we fear is that it will be the same. So, we must celebrate the changes. Because, as someone once said "Everything will be all right in the end. And if it's not all right, then trust me, it's not yet the end."

It can be said of the batch of 89th FC that we are slowly adapting to our environment. This point was driven home strangely enough when we ventured out of this environment. Half of the batch visited two institutes in Dehradun for the differently abled. The change in environment was quite obvious. 'The heat, the motion, the perpetual teeming crowds' of Dehradun were, if not of Mumbai level, at least a sea change from the life at Mussoorie. Weather at Musoorie is balmy while in the plains it was hot, humid and enervating. The sweet, fresh, rejuvenating air of the mountains was missed the most. When one starts living in the hills, the plains seem too plain. Now it all makes sense, the reason to locate these institutes and institutions at such altitude. However, there is no such thing as a free lunch after all. The price that we pay for the sweet mountain air is all the walk up and down the hills. 

The visit to the institutes was to sensitise the civil servants to the lives of the differently abled and also to acquaint them with the scope of work and the work that is being done to fully integrate the differently abled in to the main stream society. The issue to ponder about was not what software or hardware to use to aid the visually impaired or what approach to take to care for the intellectually disabled, rather, it is about how we perceive, in the first place. There is an us-them distinction that crops up the moment we talk of the differently abled and in deed when we talk of anyone or anything 'different' from our preconceived notions of the normal. If one can see the visually impaired as only visually impaired and then take actions that alleviate the day to day problems faced by them, as a matter of administrative right rather than as a duty, one feels that the lot of the differently abled will not be an intractable problem as it is being perceived. The incident that made a deep impression on me was how an intellectually disabled child was keen on showing off his talent at drawing to the visiting group of OTs. Dignity, in my opinion, is the foundation of human existence. The dignity and the self-esteem that the children displayed touched my heart. It was an important lesson they reinforced in me this day.

The bus ride to and from Dehradun was spent in blissful, if unstable, sleep by most OTs. One suspects the body is accustomed to sleep during those particular class hours of the day. For shame, KS! For shame.

The dinner was a pleasant surprise in that it was themed- Bangla being the theme. It is but obvious then that fish must be present and it was a delicious dinner that we had. A rohu is not a hilsa, yes, but it came close to the original maccher jhol. Memories of KGP came flooding back. The food at KGP was not the best I have had but it was the company that made all the difference.

Let me end this post with the birds again. In stead of the much maligned PT, we have had yoga this morning. Apparently it was the first time that yoga has been introduced as a part of the early morning PT regime. After awkward twisting and impossible folding of arms and limbs, one got to lay on one's back on a foam mat and watch the sky-blue sky and the underbellies of the swifts and the lapwings lit by the rising sun. I felt the world was a better place for the sun having lit the underbellies of the birds in brilliant gold. Such simple joys of life.

It is late in the day. A trek to Lal Tibba awaits tomorrow. Another day, another day trek. I am surprized we are even finding time to do the things that we are doing. As a character in the movie says, "First rule of India: there's always room."

Mussoorie weather, Bollywood movie and Mills & Boon

There was a conditioning walk today for the trek tomorrow. I am not complaining. Who would not want to escape the hip gyrations, the awkward bending of limbs, the absurd twisting and exertions that pass off as PT? It may all be good for us, yes, but why would any right thinking individual want to wake up at unearthly hours in this weather, in this place?

The clouds envelope you when walking (climbing, huffing-puffing) to the Officers' Mess at Karmshila, like a beloved draping a coat over your shoulders, a wrapping around of delicate concern. There is a moderate rain in the morning before the PT starts, in the afternoon and in the evening. The sun shines bright and strong in between. In the remaining times the clouds come calling, like fluffy white cows airborne, out in herds for grazing. And graze they do the hill sides clad in million shades of green. With grace. There is always something happening in the skies in Mussoorie. If, by chance, the sun, the clouds, the rain etc forget their lines, a rainbow appears as if on cue and gladdens my heart from this end of the sky to that end. A better prompter of happiness one could not find.

The celestial drama does not end with the sun set, which is poetry in hi-definition in itself. The nightfall reveals the Milky Way in all its glory if the sky is cloudless. It was a full moon day few days ago. The moon hung over Mussoorie, a crown of indescribable beauty to the Queen of the Hills.

Such sights and sounds make one's stay pleasurable. In particular the sonorous call of a bird (have to ID that blessed bird- the call is a 5-6 note call) is most pleasing. A chance to walk in the hills before the sunrise is a rare privilege in deed.

The only disagreeable thing in it all is perhaps the pockets of methanaceous air that one has to pass through where the cattle congregate in groups for rest at night. The odour is quite incongruous with the sweet hill air.

One of the guest lectures was cancelled and a movie was screened in lieu. I had not watched 'Paan Singh Tomar' earlier. It was a good movie. The strongest point of the movie was when Paan Singh Tomar, who transformed from an international athlete to a 'baghi' in the Chambal valley, could not find closure to his situation despite cornering his enemy whose actions forced him to turn to violence in the first place. Violence begets more violence, a vicious circle in which the man confuses an effect for a cause.

The Gandhi Smriti Library springs surprise after surprise. There is an AV (audio/video) section with excellent and extensive collection of movies from different regions and industries and genres. And, who could have guessed, there are two shelves full of mint-new Mills & Boon titles. While one does not understand the need for Mills & Boon titles in an academy for administration, the fact that they seem unread gives one hope, still. Maybe the OTs of this and the previous batches of Foundation Course are not mushy, sentimentalist romantics after all.

On that note, ciao. A trek looms large tomorrow. Leeches, exhaustion, solitude and exhilaration await.