Half Yearly Report

Half of the year has wandered by

Half of that watching what happened (still)

Half of that wondering who made it happen (anyone?)

The 'whatever was remaining' half, wailing why it happened (to us)

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It's showtime for the other half of the year ... wait! you thought the worst has already happened? 

The abode of God .. Pura Besakih

In the abode of God

In the shadow of the most sacred peak

In fear of an active volcano, Gunung Agung

We found the mother of all temples, Pura Besakih

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Cutting through scenic rice terraces, racing against the setting sun

Skirting past a crater lake, with over an hour’s drive still to be done

With Mt. Batur insight and Mt. Agung on our minds, we sort of knew

that these curvy, narrow roads would make it hard to enjoy the view

The tall trees fought off the light, making the day darker than it was

We tried to yak off the eerie silence of the woods without any pause

We were as further as closer, as doubtful as hopeful of getting there

But with no soul in sight, the thrill was lesser than our petrol, I swear


Jalan Batur Tengah was our lifeline and we toed it towards civilization

and after what seemed like ages, few villages emerge in succession

Following the temple road, we finally reached the holy neighborhood

Wary of phony guides and pestering hawkers who were up to no good

As the last ones to enter the almost empty premises, we had no airs

Wrapping a local sarong and a scarf we caught the first flight of stairs

We paused at a split gateway, opening to the ancient temple terrace

for a click at the Heaven’s Gate, making a traditional pose with grace

Crossing several courtyards and gateways we reached the main spire

aligned to guide a spiritual person closer to their revered cradle of fire

I witness Mt. Agung arise behind making everything seem insignificant

With its ability to erase every sign of our existence at this very moment  

Confusing a cloud near the crater for an eruption set my heart racing

And I began to look for the nearest escape route, involuntarily pacing

With a pool of molten rock bubbling beneath there was no time to lay

But my alarm was burst by a bout of laughter as the cloud blew away

Our tryst with heaven was cut short as the skies darkened rather fast

Glad to get a glimpse of the God’s home we left with memories to last

The emerald isle - Ireland

At midnight, we took out my map to find our way to the hostel
But even before we could unfold it, there was someone to tell

No, wait, not just tell, he insisted to walk us down up till there
chatting along the way as if we all had met earlier somewhere

From the moment we landed, the city had swept us off our feet
with its warmth and wit that complements whomever you meet

The streets were full of energy and the air’s hungover with craic
Great food, friendly pubs, and locals, who always had your back 

It was tough to get lost even without a map, even if we preferred
but it was tougher to refuse getting clicked, such warmly offered

After a pint at the Gravity bar with 360° views of pure fascination
We got lucky in the Phoenix Park to catch Gaelic football in action

Absorbing every word about Irish history from our bus tour guides
and stories of the Celtic symbols while driving through the hillsides

Awash with natural and pre-historic marvels from shore to shore
Cliffs of Moher, Giant’s Causeway, Wicklow mountains and more

 

We covered as much as we could, through day tours and hikes
the inspired island of Oscar Wilde, Jonathan Swift and the likes

But what remains in our hearts till today are those heartfelt smiles
that made us feel at home even though we were far away by miles

 

 

Terrible tiny pain

A: If only you could pen down your pain … it'd help!
B: If I poured my heart on that paper, what would be left of me? 
     

II. 
If only I could pen down my pain … but what would these words know about my woes anyways? 

Terribly tiny life

He didn’t have the heart to release the darkness growing inside him into this world so he took it with him to another world.

... And to all of us who are remembering his smile after he's gone, wish we had remembered it a bit sooner.

The ABCD of Virus

the aches
the blisters
the choice
the distance
the ethics
the food
the govt.
the hunger
the income
the jobs
the kids
the loans
the migrants
the native
the ownership
the privilege
the queue
the ration
the savings
the trains
the urge
the values
the wait/walk
the xyz...

Is it all still about the virus?

Forgotten alleys

A street flashes across my mind.

I know that I have been there because it is all so familiar.

I can picture myself there.

But I am not able to recall to which city or time does it belong.

It is almost like a flashback from another life.

I try to remember without much luck.

And it feels strange.

There are quite a few such alleys that have faded from my life.

All that travel planning, excitement, and hard work for nothing.

Maybe I need to re-visit the old photographs to keep those memories alive.

But when the mind itself has chosen to get rid of it, should I really make an effort?

Does a traveler have to remember? Does one travel to remember? 

Tallinn

To the north of Europe, at the tip of the Baltic sea, just short of Russia and Finland

lies a city, mystical and mesmeric, with sights and sounds from the medieval land

So, making the most of our Nordic vacation, we took a day cruise from Helsinki

Landing three windy hours later, with about five hours in hand to explore that city

Having been to a few west European cities, we weren’t hoping for anything novel

A lively square, a famous church, and a big park, all linked via metro for easy travel

Missing the scaffolded entrance a few times, we tumbled into the old town of Tallinn

Where each stone was preserved, as though time had forgotten to be that cold djinn

Our first stop was the old city wall, that promised clear views treading up to the top

And stories of the cold war and WWII with the underground passages for a backdrop

Tall spires, watchtowers and gothic houses set in a unique ‘east meets west’ feature

Awed us, as we slipped through the cobbled lanes, encased by amazing architecture

Then under candlelight, we chose our soup and pie before settling on a tavern table

enjoying the confusion of the dark setting where no cutlery for soup was acceptable

Around a corner, we bumped into an ersatz wooden cart just outside a white building,

where a beaming lady in traditional attire offered us delicious goodies for savoring

Their trick worked and we were soon inside the Olde Hansa, a grand gothic granary

today serving food and drinks relished by the Hanseatic merchants of the 15^th century

We stood in disbelief as everything we saw gave a peek into the medieval precedents

From murals and furniture to cutlery and tapestries and even the musical instruments

Live minstrels enthralled us with old songs about love, miracles, saints, and dragons

And an elegantly costumed staff served us under a candle, the only option for vegans

The flickering golden light spellbound me into conjuring my own fantasy escapade

I was almost sure of finding a unicorn waiting outside, to take me on an aerial raid

But time flew instead, and those five hours we had had had slipped through quickly

Leaving us longing for a little longer experience of this beautiful Baltic capital city