Luck favors the brave.

Tonight it was going to be a full moon night. For a month before that day I meticulously planned the trip to detail so I would spend this day by the shores of the glorious Pangong Lake. The moon would shine in all its glory and so would the lake. It was a dream since my first visit to the lake way back in 2008. 

I was thinking about this while I saw the storm gaining momentum high up in the mountains. A traveler has no fixed plans, even more so in the mighty Himalayas. Weather played spoilsport. All my meticulous planning was blown to dust as the weather created havoc. With great difficulty the trip even took off. Today I wouldn’t be going to Pangong after all. I was visiting the Aryan Settlement of Ladakh, a village called Dah. 

As we reached the checkpost at Dah, I asked the guard at the gate how to go to Dah and he replied with a curious alacrity “up this mountain”. I asked him how long it would take, again with a cheeky smile he replied “we do it in just about 20 minutes, you might take much more time“. Well I respected him for the job he was doing else I would’ve really told him off, in my mind of course. It was still raining and if we go ahead, it would be into the troubled land of Batalik. My parents said they will sit in the car and if I wanted I could go up and come. But the only problem was, there did not seem to be a path to the village and what if I get lost on my way up. 

Well anyway, the weather didn’t look any better than it was before and it showed no signs of getting better either. Well trekking up a muddy mountain with loose rocks everywhere, in the rain, so close to the Line of Control, all alone wasn’t something I fancied to do. But I kept saying to myself that you cannot turn back after coming all this way neelima, go ahead. Dar ke aage jeet hai, hai na?

In the rain I started to climb up the mountain. Since there was no trail, I followed the stream which was flowing down. It was quite a steep ascent, but as I went up, the rain stopped. Then I saw some plastic lying around, so I was close to civilization after all. After some more climbing I finally saw a house, and then the village. 

It looked deserted. The village was on top of the mountain, where they had houses and fields in front of the houses. There were higher mountains all around. There was another stream which was flowing wildly in the valley. I see no people yet, till the sound of drums broke the eerie silence. I went ahead to find a huge gathering who looked quite colorful and it seemed like they were celebrating something. All the ladies were dressed in some sort of colorful traditional attire with huge flowers on their head. The men were wearing colorful caps. Happy to reach the village and see the people I went and sat next to an elderly man. 

The ruins of Hampi have charmed many over the years. I thought it was just the ruins that deemed the place magical. Last weekend I discovered something else. It was not just the ruins but the whole setting that made Hampi the surreal retreat that it is. Boulders of gargantuan proportions stacked in impossible formations over one another was the first impression. That could have been all that Hampi had if not for the gentle Tungabhadra River that flows through the main bazaar far towards the distant mountains.

As the sun sets in the west, the mountains become mere silhouettes while the sparkling waters of Tungabhadra take on a different hue dancing to the symphony of light. If that was the magic of sunlight, moonlight isn’t any less either. Yesterday it wasn’t a full moon day but it was almost there. Vast and wide open spaces interspersed by a river here and a rock there giving you a front row seat to do nothing but gaze at stars is why the place is so chilled out. There might not be many trees to give you all the shade but the land isn’t devoid of greenery altogether. There are green pastures of grass by the foothills of the rock formations. And if the clouds decide to play along, you cannot ask for a better setting. The blue skies, the white fluffy clouds, the brown mountains and green pastures. Just about the perfect for a landscape photographer like me. :)

I spent two days last weekend in Hampi. Of all the time spent there, it would be safe to say half the time was spent gazing at the river/clouds/rocks/mountains and the rest was spent gazing at the amazing ruins. True story! Yes, it goes without saying the ruins were amazing.

Ruins you would have seen many. Now see the spectacular scenery of Hampi.

I am person with a lot of preconceived notions. For all that traveling that I do, you’d expect I would have an open mind.  But the truth is I have my opinions on everything and stick to it until the truth hits me in the face. Why I am saying this is because I always thought Tamilnadu is not a state worth exploring, just as with Rajasthan. Of course both the states have been an eye-opener and maybe all that traveling has opened up my mind after all. I swear I won’t dismiss any place without giving it a chance.

That being said, I was on a weeklong trip exploring the southern tip of India last week. I went with family which meant no crazy treks or something like that but plain old summer vacation kind of travel. I wasn’t too excited given my notions about Tamilnadu. The only thing enticing was the fact that I would’ve have traveled tip to tip if I set foot at Kanyakumari as well. Did no research and landed late evening in Trivandrum on Monday.  The airport was just beside the sea and the warm sea breeze and the humidity hit me in the face. It felt good. Having spent the better years of my life along the seaside, the familiar weather was welcoming. 

The crazy trip had started as we know it. I waited and waited and waited at the bus stand to find a bus to take me to Kanyakumari. It was already 9 PM and there was no sign of the only bus that goes from Ernakulam to Kanyakumari via Trivandrum. I found some comfort in knowing there were few Telugu families also waiting for the same bus. You can never be too far from them which is a good thing in most cases. A sleepy town that goes by the name Kanyakumari just by the seaside welcomed me at midnight. 

The morning next day was a celestial affair. People were waiting in hordes to see the sun rise from the ocean. To me, more than the sunrise, the gathering was more interesting. I love it when people come together in unison and bow in front of the mighty force called nature. They all worshipped, chanted mantras, took dips in the sea water calling it holy and took a thousand photographs as the sun rose. I was doing the last one, took a thousand photographs and those were few of the best ones that I have shot so far.

After sunrise, the agenda was quite sketchy and I was so happy with the photos I took in the morning I just didn’t care where I landed next. Incidentally the next location was the spectacular Padmanabhapuram palace. At first glance, the palace looked more like a traditional house than a huge palace. Little did I know I was in for such a surprise. The palace was neither small nor nondescript. The traditional Kerala architecture was simple yet functional.  Later that day was a date with rains. Got drenched to the core and loved it. Just that morning I was facing the heat of summer and beaches and from afternoon till night it was monsoon showers, clouds and mist. Strange are the days of travel.

Next stop was Madurai, temple town and not really my cup of tea. But, yet again I was in for another surprise. The Meenakshi Amman Temple was nothing short of a spectacle and the Thirumalai Nayakar Palace was a shining example of Italian architecture with the local flavor. The many pillars of Meenakshi temple and the huge hallways of the palace, both a photographer’s delight left me wanting for more.

But we had moved on to Kodaikanal by now. I had already planned what I wanted my family to see. Not the crowded hill station but pretty hamlets and isolated lakes in the vicinity of the mountains and forests around. That is what we did, visited two spectacular lakes and called it a day. 

After temples, beaches and Mountains I was only too glad to be returning to the beaches, at Rameswaram and Dhanushkodi.  I got scolded by the tour operator for making him wait for an hour, got scolded some more by my dad for making them all wait but then when we took off in the jeep to visit Dhanushkodi, all was forgotten by all and I was left spellbound. I thought I had evolved as a photographer. Believing in quality than quantity, not going trigger crazy was something I managed to achieve over the past year. But all that learning went to dust the moment we entered the realms of the ghost town. I went clicking here, there and everywhere. Words wouldn’t do justice and nor would photos. 

After visiting Kutch earlier this year and Danushkodi now, I have developed a newfound love towards saline eco systems. Serene Bay of Bengal on one side and the wild Indian Ocean on the other, we were traveling on the strip of land between these two. We went till the far corner from where you can spot the erstwhile Ramasetu, the bridge built by Rama to Sri Lanka. I will have to dedicate an entire post to the awesomeness called Dhanushkodi, for now let’s return back to Rameswaram. 

The beach here is shallow for quite a long distance from the shore. I saw local fishermen trying to catch fish in a different way. Then we headed to the temple just before it opened. Found the corridors almost empty and as expected I went trigger happy again. Had a spectacular darshan of the lord thus ending the week long exploration.

There could not have been a better way to sum up this trip than these words - Every ending is just a new beginning. I never thought Tamilnadu would interest me so much. The culture and history around Madurai was immense, the mountains and forests around Kodaikanal were pristine, the temples and their architecture were marvelous, the beaches and the ecology were remarkable. As I traveled I found out there was much more to be seen, like the Danish fort of Tranquebar or the erstwhile bungalows of Chettiars or the infinite lakes around Kodaikanal or the innumerable waterfalls around Courtallam or the history of graves around Vallinokkam or the many other places I haven’t heard of yet. As I crossed the Pamban Bridge one last time, I promised to myself, I will return back to this Enchanting Land! 

I do keep my promises, I swear!