I have some amazing plans for Christmas to spend time with my three little nephews. I have plans to be a good Santa and buy some pretty gifts for them. It’s so exciting that I would experience Delhi winters (and pollution) after a long time. I can’t wait to relish the Delhi cuisine and its famed street food. In this excitement, I don’t want to forget about my ‘wish list’ for Christmas, and it’s rather a long one.
So why did I start a blog? To earn money, to earn fame, to lead a life of travel? The answer is ‘No’. I knew it very well, blogging is hard work. I am not that big a writer who expects earn a lot from lucrative assignments from big publications
I had always been fascinated by the stories of Malana and wanted to visit this small village which some consider one of the last isolated civilizations in the world and renowned for being the most ancient civilization anywhere on earth by some.
Indigenous cultures are often a source curiosity for us; we want to know about the ancient cultures which are still preserved and coping with the world of rapid changes. One such encounter I had was with the Bedouins of Jordan.
Everyone I know had warned me that I wouldn’t like it. The exaggerated motions of a camel, the jerks at the start and end of every lap and the pain once the travel is over. But the idea of spending a night beneath the starry sky and on the sand bed was compelling enough.
The stories about this mystic city must have compelled Swiss traveler and explorer Johann Burckhardt to choose the road little known to anyone else. He travelled from Damascus to Cairo and a long travel through the desert way to reach Sharra Mountains.
My first memories of Chiang Mai are of sitting near the Chedi of a wooden temple and talking to a monk, while he was feeding food to the street dogs. I took a couple of pictures of him capturing his kind act. Looking at me, something occurred to him and he left to go inside his chambers.
Visiting historical ruins is always an exhilarating experience for me. At times I wish I could time travel and see the era when they were actually constructed and alive. When people lived in those elegant places, when the first stone of huge temples was placed or when the huge monoliths were brought from faraway places using no machines to make the beautiful idols.
Jordan was a dream, a dream I often saw with my open eyes. A dream to spend a day like the Bedouins, to light a lamp in front of the treasury in Petra, to read a magazine while floating in Dead Sea, to be lost in the vastness of deserts and to be find myself climbing in the natural bridge of Wadirum. Some of the dreams were realized and some more were added in my wish list.
Well, I’d be the happiest in a jungle, listening to the little movements in its deep silence, observing the amusing wild life. The tall trees touching the sky, the huggable wide trunks of trees, the sun rays filtering through green leaves, the dry leaves of different shades and sizes spreading on the path like a mildly crunchy carpet, while the birds play hide and seek with the other free spirited animals.