We are all connected, we are one

We are all connected, we are one

Recently I had been on a trip to Kashmir and while one is struck in awe at nature’s grandeur, there was one wild connection that stumped me. Across the Dal lake there was a shop named Dar Computers. Having stayed in Dar es Salaam , Tanzania for a few years, the name caught my attention. Though bemused I just ignored it as a one off event. A fleeting thought casually reminded me of the majestic building Dar us Salaam , Bandra , Mumbai – would it also have some Tanzanian connection? I wondered.

However there was more to follow. Located in the lap of the majestic mountains of the Himalayas, Kashmir is famous for its natural beauty with enchanting valleys, limpid lakes, cascading rivers, trekking in mountains and a wide variety of animals and plants. As we sailed in a Shikara or Kashmiri boat through the crystal clear waters of world famous Dal Lake we saw the backdrop of Zabarwan Mountains near Srinagar. One look at these mountain ranges and I was again transported down memory lane to the Uluguru Mountains -  a mountain range in Morogoro , eastern Tanzania, Africa, named after the Luguru tribe. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief – was it real or was I fantasizing? Again I brushed my thought as a chance coincidence.

The next day we were going to Pehelgam. En route we came across a place called Bijbehara. This place is known for cricket bats and you can see the factories lined up on both sides of the road. What caught my attention was the cultivation of weeping Willows – a remarkable semblance to the Willow farms at Iringa in the Southern Highlands of Tanzania.

We all know that Himalayas are snow laden mountains. However there are mountain ranges rich in vegetation as the melting snow provides a rich supply of water and minerals. The forests of the mountains provide the water catchment areas for the streams and rivers. While many of us know this, you would be surprised to know that the mountainous ranges across Kilimanjaro located in Arusha, Tanzania are strikingly similar to these Himalayan peaks.

When in Tanzania I used to wonder about the conspicuously similar vegetation like neem, mango , arnica trees but little would I have thought that Kashmir and Tanzania – separated by thousands of miles could have replicas of each other.

 I happened to point  out the similarities in the dialect as well to a Tanzanian friend . e.g. we call a mango Amba in Marathi while they call it Embe, Pineapple is Ananas in Marathi while it is Nanasi in Swahili. She had then said that there is a book, which claims that eastern Africa was at one time connected with India! The author  claims that the Masais have the same cultural background as the Bharatiyas. He called them the Gopas!

I am told that when our President Kalam visited Tanzania, in his inaugural speech, he gave the same message - he said that yesterday he was at the other shore of the Indian Ocean in Mumbai and that day he was on this shore of the same Ocean!

Goes to prove the universal truth – We are all connected, we are one

Oye!  Tanzania

Anagha Hunnurkar

June 24, 2012

Sonamarg: The power of the elements

Sonamarg: The power of the elements

A trip to Kashmir cannot be complete without a trek to Sonamarg - an alpine valley surrounded by the Himalayan peaks with melting glaciers. As we left Srinagar and drove to Sonamarg, a popular tourist destination, hardly we knew what lay ahead. The car halted and we were told that we could either trek to the glacier or go on horseback or hire a jeep. The jeep would take us up to a spot from whereon we had to then go trekking to the glacier. While we all would have enjoyed the trek, at the same time knowing that it could rain any time, we decided to take the journey by four wheel drive.

We were told that Sonamarg has no permanent settlement and is inaccessible during winter due to heavy snowfall and avalanches. We hired the protection clothing – fur coats and boots and set for the glacier. We were also carrying our umbrellas and hand gloves .No sooner did we land at the predetermined spot, we all started walking towards the glacier. Green meadows, a cloudy blue sky, gentle breeze, icy but pleasant cold and the stony walkway built for the horses – a perfect setting for an enjoyable walk in the company of your near and dear ones. One but can’t help thanking the Lord for such glorious opportunities, kindly bestowed by him.

However as we started walking to our dismay we realized that it had been raining past few days and so the whole place was wet and mucky. The mud was sticky and lumpy. Not wanting to miss the glacier, we started walking along the stony pathway. We are so used to walk on foot paths as pedestrians that we hardly realized that the path was made for the horse and not for the pedestrians. The place was thronged with tourists and since all were facing the same problem, the pathway became crowded.   Now the people were coming between the right of way of the horses and the horsemen.

The horses used to kick the people in retaliation. A first ever sight I saw wherein the horses just pushed people who blocked their way. We then got the trick. Each one of us - we were 4 in our group then started walking just behind a horse, almost towing the tail. If one walks that way, one is shielded from getting pushed, we realized. By and by we reached the glacier.

It was getting colder and due to the rains the glacier was melting .Icy cold water was flowing like a rivulet. The glacier itself was very difficult to climb as we kept slipping off and falling. Not wanting to break our bones we ladies decided to just be at the edge, while my son not wanting to be left out joined another team, with his uncle. He was keenly climbing the glacier higher and higher. He was so deft in climbing that we just watched him in awe. Soon they were seen as small dots on the white sheet.

Just then it began to rain and we could see the weather changing from pleasant to cold to jittery cold. My sister spotted a charcoal baked corn on the cob seller and we rushed to eat the corn. We were waiting for the tender mouth watering corn on the cob and as we were very close to the embers, automatically we got the warmth. Oh how lovely! When the seller realized that we were shivering, he quickly gave us a kangri  - the traditional Kashmiri way to keep warm through freezing winters - wicker baskets filled with coal that people keep close to them and cover with blankets - cozy!

The drizzle now turned to a downpour and the blue sky changed to a dark grey. The atmosphere was cold and chilly. We were shivering even with the fur coats. Joy was now muted to an eerie feeling of fear. Open meadows with no shade, pouring rain, messy muddy cold water flowing at the feet, dark sky and biting cold. The resplendent nature had now decided to show the power of the elements. We were just waiting with baited breath and chattering jaws, for our team to return.

Not able to withstand the rain, we started walking down the pathway in search of some shade. Just then we spotted a tent that was vending tea and bites. To our delight he was also preparing hot noodles. We sat on chairs and ordered for noodles. Normally we would not have even touched it but with no options even the noodles were a great treat! We ordered it more for the shelter than anything else! We were wet and the biting cold had reached our bones. So piping hot noodles was the right salve.

Watching the ferocious nature, while sipping tea in the safety of the tent was a different experience. The imposing Himalayan peaks, the sky, the torrential rain, the muddy water, nothing mattered the moment we were in the protective tent. We sat silently gazing at the scene being unfolded before us.

By and by our team too returned and we set for our journey back home……

Anagha Hunnurkar

June 17, 2012

Snippets : Life of an American desi

Snippets : Life of an American desi

Sarita had just moved to LA (Los Angeles) with the family and a larger than life picture was slowly unfolding before her. As she set around her routines, she realized that a weekly visit to the mall was a must.

Her days in Jallander had told her that to know a new city, one must walk or use the public transport. Off went Sarita to ride on a bus. As the bus halted, she got in quickly and sat on a seat. Plush seats, AC bus, few passengers …she was feeling oh so comfy. After settling she wondered why the bus conductor was not to be seen. She looked around and she realized that faces were prying at her and the driver was also giving her glancing looks from the mirror as he was driving. Sarita realized that something was amiss. So she asked a lady passenger about the conductor. It was only then that Sarita realized the faux pas that she had committed. She was in fact a ticket less traveler at that moment. She promptly went to the driver and put the change in the funnel.

As she sat on her seat she found another funny thing. It was the passengers who rang the bell when they had to get down. A lesson in division of labor – the driver taking care of tickets and the passengers taking care of  the alighting – thus totally eliminating the need of a bus conductor.

Sarita alighted the bus and was now on her way to the mall. The mall was a huge gigantic structure with long alleys and gangways. The racks were stocked with all possible stuff that the customers could possibly need. She set about stacking the shopping basket with goodies. Suddenly she thought of making some spicy sev puri at home and started looking around for dates. Not able to locate them, she approached a uniformed salesman nearby

‘Excuse me, where can I find a date?’

The baffled look on the salesman’s face put Sarita on the back foot ‘date, date’ she muttered again. Oh no again a faux pas she thought to herself.

‘I mean the fruit –date – the fruit. – where can I find it?’ she repeated, gesticulating with her hands.

The man too looked relieved and he quickly moved to the shelf where the dates were stacked. Sarita swiftly took the packet of dates and with the same speed rushed to the cash counter, lest she may have to face the salesman again.  The thought itself made her feel so awkward.

The day’s activity had left her hungry and she thought of taking a bite at the restaurant. She settled for a burger and coffee. When she was done, she asked the waiter for the bill.

‘Bill? Why should I give you bills?’ – the waiter
‘Since I have eaten, I need the bill’ – Sarita
‘ It’s you who has eaten , so it’s you who should be giving the bills’ – insisted the waiter
Sarita was all confused. ‘How can I give bill? The restaurant is supposed to give the bill’ repeated Sarita.
‘Madam, we don’t pay bills to customers for eating, it is the customers who pay by giving bills’ – waiter

The commotion had already caused inquisitive eyes  to set on the scene.

Sarita took the cue and said ’Yes yes , I pay , bring the bill’
‘Oh you mean the check?’ – said the waiter nonchalantly.

Sarita quickly paid off and returned home. It was only latter on when she spoke to Harish (her hubby dearest) that she realized that currency notes are called ‘bills’ and a bill is actually called a ‘check’ in the great US of A. They both were in splits on realizing the third faux pas in a row.

Oh what an eventful day and what a learning curve, thought a bemused Sarita.

Anagha Hunnurkar
12th June 2012