Genesis - soumya.org

Ice Age

The freezing cold in Delhi brought back memories of a snow covered peak on the road from Spiti to Lahaul. One can only imagine how serene that currently inaccessible stretch will be right now...

An Ideal Boy

This poster plastered on a store in Calcutta, edifies what our parents always wanted us to be. Let the brainwashing begin...

Software Research And Inquest

Only a Bengali can come up with such a deep name and purpose for a software training institute and cybercafe...

Bihari Pride

In college and at work I have had some very good friends who were born or grew up in the state of Bihar; a heritage which invariably put them at the receiving end of many comments about their state's infamous reputation and legacy. The grateful responses I got when I mailed them this photograph from Bodhgaya, compelled me to post this entry in the hope of rekindling a rejuvenated sense of Bihari Pride!

Arms Alley

Crossing the border from Bengal to Jharkhand, we were speeding down the Grand Trunk Road when we noticed that the road side shacks which normally housed dhabas or tyre shops were displaying a very different kind of merchandise. Lining both sides of the road were stalls selling sharp instruments of every conceivable variety. Spears, choppers, knives, swords interspersed with colorful baseball bats and hockey sticks for variety...a true anarchists dream. A much more genteel and watered down version of the famed Dara Adam Khel of Pakistan the roots of these shops lay way back in time when crossing the lawless stretches of Bihar was an arduous journey and people stocked up and traveled in convoys to tackle roadside bandits. (Even in this day and age it is advisable to only travel through the stretch during the day and nighttime trucks still travel in convoys.) Seeing our interest, the sales boys father went in to bring out his special stash which included commando knives and gleaming samurai sword knockoffs which are apparently big sellers with 'discerning buyers'.  After admiring these works of art, we big goodbye and continued on our way, not with any steel in our bags but with a few discerning photographs of the arms alley on G.T. Road...

Souls Of Their Ancestors

Walking down the furthest ghats of Varanasi, we were having chai at Gai Ghat when the sounds of a familiar dialect wafted into my ears...Marathi! Having grown up in Bombay, hearing the language in the heart of Uttar Pradesh was like music to my ears, so I chatted with the grey haired gentlemen engaged in animated conversation. What I learnt was fascinating...A group of over 50 people from rural Maharashtra, a majority of them aged over 65 were traveling by bus for close to two months across North and Central India. Organised twice a year by the "Jai Balaji Yatra Company" for the princely sum of 14000 rupees, this was dream come true for these folks as it allowed them to experience a pilgrimage to holiest of the holy shrines in India. They were in Varanasi to perform the ancient ceremony of "Pind Daan" where one offers rice balls mixed with flour and honey in the presence of the mighty Ganga to put at rest departed souls of ancestors. The entire ceremony was choreographed like clockwork by a Maharashtrian priest whose family had settled in Varanasi many generations ago. Time stood still as we watched them perform the rituals and when they were done, we left humbled at the perseverance of these hardy souls, who had journeyed across the country to pray for the souls of their ancestors...

Dawn Over Varanasi

The temple bells of Assi Ghat welcomed the morning twilight as we made our way from the confluence of the Assi and the Ganges to the main ghat at Dasashwamedh. A morning walk on the ghats of Varanasi counts as one of the most magical experiences of one's lifetime and the human drama unfolding on the banks also condenses the experiences of many lifetimes into one. From new born's being blessed with the holy water to last rites being performed on the burning ghats; europeans clicking away with their expensive digital cameras to impoverished villagers fulfilling their dream of visiting the holiest of all hindu cities; sadhu's performing their obeisance to children playing cricket, each step brings into view a new perspective on life. Join me in experiencing a journey into eternity and watching dawn unfold over Varanasi...

Jungles Of Jharkhand - Hazaribagh and Betla

"Aap Betla Ja Rahe Ho? Bahut Danger Raasta Hai. Din Ko Jana Aur Din Ko Ana..." (Are you going to Betla? It is a very dangerous road. Go during daylight and come back during daylight...) said Yadavji, the owner of the Hotel Skylok (The picture of the bird on the menu indicating that the intended name was probably Skylark and by the time someone pointed it out, the big neon sign was too expensive to redo). This was the theme of our detour from the Grand Trunk road on the way back from Kolkata to Delhi. I had fond childhood memories of visiting the sanctuaries in Hazaribagh and Betla and a few hundred kilometers with dire warnings about Maoist Naxalites did not matter. Came back with mixed feelings... the sanctuaries were a pale shadow of their earlier self and quite disappointing, the roads were atrocious, the government hotel in Betla was a study of neglect and apathy and we read news reports about late night bus hijackings in the local newspapers (but encountered no trouble ourselves). On the positives, Hazaribagh was splendid with its great weather and chilled out atmosphere, the scenery along the journey was fantastic, sattu and kachoris were quite delicious, the people were warm and friendly and the opportunities for photography many. Traveling during daylight hours we spent a few days soaking in the atmosphere and taking numerous photo stops as we wound our way thru the jungles of Jharkhand...