Sins II -- The Remdemption Song....

When your head gets twisted and your mind goes numb,
You are too tired to think and then start acting dumb,
When you just want sleep and it never comes.

You begin to think there isn’t a soul, who cares,
You take gentle steps but then from sheer effort just go slump.

The uselessness of your existence strikes you cold;
it suddenly occurs to you that all you do is
Alienate people who were willing to listen but you go yours
by turning away and got busy just having fun.
Getting your kicks while leaving others with wounds to lick.

A searing ache throbs deep in your heart of the memories
of people who once you thought were yours,
since then have long ago been apart.
Things have changed and now you find yourself alone and estranged
Paranoid in an all conspiring world.

Tormented by your demons you grit your teeth, willing to go your way for keeps,
Looking and seeking a way out, from the memories of days of your inglorious past.

Slowly but surely you start to hate yourself, for what you have done to others and yourself,
Just not caring for anybody else, serves you right to be in this self contained cell.
This is your private hell…. And here you will be till eternity rests…

The memories of cruel deeds is scant comfort for your conscience to live with,
and you often consider to atone for your sins,
but penance is a long road and atonement comes from deep within
after treading on various emotional & physical treadmills.

To figure out this world is the hope that makes you delve
into deep crevasses of your serrated soul,
Making you think of your existence in our sordid world.
You become your own guide and on and on you go paying no heed
to others who yell out warning cries,


The peak is your goal and you head out on this seemingly endless road.
To the crossroads you go and when you finally find them,
you turn the wrong way, caught in the web again you fool!!

Just when you are about to give up,
hope comes in the shape of someone who shares your pains
but you cannot unite to form a single way
and alone you are condemned to go in your quest,
high up in the mountains where solace rests.

Over the fields and under many a tree you ponder on the,
Doubts, which creep into your thoughts,
but you are bound to your oath of never giving in to your detractors words.
To the very top you will go or perish in your quest as the errant knights of yore


Then the end is in sight but God doesn’t oblige, as you’re hurting his pride,
by giving up all that he has provided for you.
So he too turns the face away from you … as your intentions are not that pure,
Many more turmoils will you have to endure.

Realization dawns one fine day on you
that you figure no where in the fate
of what will eventually become of your beloved earth.
The world’s place in this universe is but a figment in the great plan
and people like you are just passengers like sardines in a can.

Not bothering to care of what comes out of this amazing craving
to know whether yours was a life pre destined or you are what you make yourself into.


You are here now, you have arrived and somewhere down the hallway
a newborn baby cries!!

Here’s another one you say,
who will also have to bear this burden everyday,
this lessens you pain as you come to reconcile your erroneous ways.

You are not alone,
there are others just like you out there in this simple world
but they too like you are seeking something which has always eluded your steps
in this incredible journey to dry clean your soul.



Sins Part 1

The sky purple and deep above the fast black surface. In the half light before dawn all the violet and the rare shadows reveal colors we cannot name, something beyond cobalt and viridian and umber. The dew wet pavement streaks the streetlamp light in silvery cold with dapples of thick heavy dewdrops and my body relishes the splash of the cool damp air. The heat of the previous day forgotten…

The big road running to my left looks like India ink, the asphalt which shimmers with the heat wave during the day is now a mirror of reflections of car windows and headlights and the pale glow of street lights of sodium gas lamps soak into my eyes….

I can hear the cars traveling on the road, the hollow rush of the tires and engines and the quick dull thump as the tires roll over the steel joints of the span of the nearby bridge.

Something in me loves a bridge like I love dreams in which I’m flying. The suspension, the rise coinciding with the falling away of the ground, the feeling of traveling over water.

Something in me fears a bridge like I hate dreams in which I’m flying. The pinprick feeling at the nape of my neck of no solid ground, the notion I might jump and fall, the ending of the dream.

As the night’s curtain parted for dawn I could see the blue and the branches, tall slumbering trees, sap thickened and slowed by the night cold. Things of the night withdrew like the tide as the sky lifted and lightened ushering in a brand new day…..

From sport to sport they hurry me,
to stifle my regret

And when they win a smile from me,
They think that I forget..


An English Ballad from
P.G. Wodehouse's ~ 'Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves'

Trek haiku

trek . . .
we plod our way up
to little butterflies

{Lalchung Village}

mountain climbing:
my neck feels the force
of my fears pressure

(Bhakre walking up the flank of Mt. Pandim)

In Camp:

Rushing to greet us

A freak storm...

Into thin Air:

I gasp for air

in this Icy embrace..

back home:
describing the mountains
night lingers . . .

Memories of Sikkim

Though here at journey's end I lie
in darkness buried deep
beyond all towers strong and high,
beyond all mountains steep,
above all shadows rides the Sun
and Stars forever dwell;

I will not say the Day is done,
nor bid the Satrs farewell....

I have been kind of subdued ever since I got back from Sikkim. I miss it very much, seldom do you visit a place which speaks to your inner self so intimately or awakens the emotion of belonging there. How I want for that inner voice to be true that I belong there and I wish I can keep going back there time and time again and maybe one day find my own Utopia there... a wooden cabin on the spur of a mountain, with a naughty brook of fresh ice melt, leaping from stone to stone on its way to find a bigger stream and its journey to the sea.

I am still reveling in my memories of that enchanted place. The sense of peace I felt there, is hard to express in words. There are times when you say That this is as good good as its gonna get. Well such was the feeling I felt there.

Every stone spoke volumes, each gust of wind brought a fresh smell and freshness of the rhododendron flowering forests and hillsides on its wings,

The lakes there had every imaginable shade of turquoise and blues from dark cobalt to aqua marine and millions of shades in between.

The skies shone with a clearness which you cannot experience in a city now a days, The local Lepchas and Bhutias derive a certain happiness living off the land with their Yaks and wild horses. They always had a smile to offer to you and it lit up faces and rosy cheeks, Somehow in the city we lack this simple joy of living...we are too busy in our own mundane existence to worry about LIVING LIFE for fun.... It was magical for the short time I was in that environ

Since I have been back, I have a far away look in my eyes. In my mind I am still there. I am quiet and have nothing much to say to anyone *which is normal*, but there is a reluctance to speak about it as if sharing the experience will somehow rob some of the luster off the visit for me. There is an emptiness that I feel which again is hard to explain. I feel like a foreigner back at home & homesick for Sikkim once again.

There are very few places left in the world which are unsullied from the march of progress and the everyday rat race and traveling in the valleys of Sikkim you come to just such a place, a bubble in time and space.

Life goes on there on its own pace, sure you find Coke and Pepsi there too..but still considering other parts of India, I am glad that Sikkim is relatively secluded from the rest of the country.
The only other place to evoke similar feelings in me was after my first visit to Ladakh & Spiti Valley....I like to call such places my Zen Locales where I find a completeness unlike anywhere else.

My time here draws to an end..2 more days which we will spend visiting Monasteries nearby and just relaxing and taking in the sights and then its back home..



Spending time in the mountains, is like a rebirth... a regaining of lost prespective to the lonlieness that had been stfiling me of late...almost strangling the life out of me..but this foray into the wild has brought realization and some insight into my life... it was sorely needed.



Mt. Pandim Between Dzongri and Thansing (with Mount Pandim in the Background): during the downward Climb to Thansing



There was a wonderful week camped on the flanks of Pandim, the mountain we will attempt next year with a couple of our mates. This time we were just two of us me and Bhakre and we climbed upto 18,400 ft...

ON THE SCREE SLOPES ....



We were pushed back by a storm which left us tentbound for 2 days. It was scary but fun, it snowed and the wind howled down the mountain at enormous speeds, threatening to rip out our tent with us inside, it was touch and go a couple of times when one of our tent pegs came off and our whole tent was soon filled with a layer of white powder in no time, both our sleeping bags got their fair share and after we resecured our wee little tent and finally got back into our inviting bags it was a cold surprise and so we spent a miserable night in soggy bags cold and no warmth.. but it was fun none the less... you need something like this to happen to you to really make it a memorable trip. (its funny how you only remember the worst nights and forget the others which you spent warmly encased in your own private cocoon)...

Storm at 18,000 feet..

Walk In... Campsite no 5.





In the shadow of the mighty Kanch, we climbed up to GAUCHO LA and onto the flanks of Mt. Pandim. Its a colloussus in itself at 6791 mtrs but is dwarfed by the all conquering Kanch.. Makes you feel Miniscule. stuoendous panoramas of the whole massif greet you if you look up from the treachourous scree slopes which have to be traversed before you get onto the snow slopes but all that slow grind up the slope is worth it, once you reach the snowline..



It was exhilirating to climb again after a haitus of nearly 8 months, I had forgotten how good it always makes me feel....The crunchy sound of snow being trodden on cramponed feet... it was heavenly and there were some amazing views to reward us for our hard work. mostly we climbed unroped and only roped up 3 - 4 times during a couple of tricky pitches up one gulley, which seemed a perfect candidate for a windslab avalanche but miracously it held our weights, but while coming down we did notice that it had avalanched while we were up there...

The route we tried out looks doable but there are some places were it is hard going, and grade 5 climbing which will require us to rope up those sections. All in all it was a worthwhile visit.

Camping on the Way to the Misty Mountain Hop

The weather except for 2 days was just perfect, this place is so very TOLKEINESQUE.m ( reminds me of Hollin & Ithelien as described in LOTR.



Some parts we walked through to get to the mountain indeed remind me of the Alps... Rhondodeddron forest, picketed with swarms of wild flowers which pepper the landscape as far as the eye can see... They are everywhere... rocks covered with lichen and moss, the smell of the rotting leaves and that particular aroma you get when you are in the mountains was just soooo,...soooo... pleasing to the self..



Wildflowers on the Walk In..





The valleys are shrouded with mist which hangs low over the landscape, it is just too beautiful for mere words to do justice to the locale...breathtaking... Many a times we just stopped without violition and just stared at the scenes which would open up in front of our eyes...

The walk in to Yumthang Valley was great, and the only downside are the leeches...scores of them...they hang eager from leaves and infest stones awaiting you to pass through and as you cross they invade every hole in your clothing, no to forget shoes and suck you off...now that is a blowjob I can do without ...every night we had fun burning them off with our cigarettes...actually I must admit to deriving insane pleasure from watching them wither and drop off my arms and legs... served them right for sucking my blood...



Yes...I did take a lot of pics but as we had limited gear this time and no frills couldn't update through the climb like I was able to last time.. so I reverted to my dairy but am loathe to type it out right now...



While returning to Gangtok we took a detour to CHANGU LAKE to watch the Yaks...they were busy doing what they do best.....Yakking away....that is..


Changu Lake
It is just a pleasure to see animals in their element , drifting across this high grazing pastures, having the time of their life,...there are also some herds of wild horses and mules...and the place is just stunning...



TSMONGO LAKE.



Tomorrow I am going to Rumtek Monastery to spend a couple of hours with a college friend who is now a lay monk there. I wonder what got into him that he decided to join the ranks of the Yellow Hats....it will be interesting to find out ...





My Hip Yak Friend... I wonder if he is Rapping Yak...





Well thats all for a bit..will update with more pics later..

cheers

Z

The Oldest Memeber

Everyone who lived in the village and the hamlets nearby knew her. In their minds they associated her deathless years with the existence of their village. Both were facts accepted since the birth of conciousness.

She was so old , she had become static in time, could never be older, had surely never been young. Her dry wrinkled skin was loose around the impatient skeleton. It enclosed her eyes in folds, hiding the yellowed cornea surrounding lustreless pupils, Yet there was vision enough to make her concious of its loss.

She used her withered hands for feeble grasping, her crooked deformed fingers for uneasy touching. her bent legs for unsteady shuffling and not her eyes but time's familiarities for seeing and recognising her changeless curcumscribed world.

Through the years the mud of the walls had not changed, the same wooden arches supported the same sloping thatched roof, the same heavy wooden doors leading outside creaked the same warningas it opened...

This was her complete world as she lay in the sun on the string bed --- the walls, the arches, the thatch , the doors to the world outside.

The world had changed, quickening its step in noisy obscene haste as she lay on her bed, shrivelled lips moving in constant prayer, she heard the impatient sounds of the machine mad world, - a distant horn of a car a screech of tyres and the whine of an overheated engine...

Her grandchildren, great grandchildren flapped the loose hanging skin of her arms and lie on her lap, when she chewed an invisible cud, at the fascinating movement of her chin towards her nose, just missing it and then dropping down to begin again its upward drive. They would suddenly scream with high clear laughter and run away...

She dipped into the well of her memories, She had no need to stretch in her effortless reaching to draw its constant treasure.

The live past was always happily with her, the present an irritating dying burden.

The fly that sat on her nose a moment before was as forgotten as the reflex brushing it away, but her nose still twitched with the itching of the one that had sat on it seventy or was it eighty years ago.......