Archive for the ‘Travel’ Tag

“The Haunted Tree Atop The Hill”   10 comments

 

"Fed up with their lives, many disconsolate souls climbed up the hill and threw themselves into the dark ravine down below. Till this point in time, No one has survived." An innocuous evening  stroll in the hill was soon assuming  darker undertones when a chance conversation revealed the lesser known lure of the hills to quench its  blood lust. As I sat down under a tree, I could sense my trains of thought veering into uncharted waters whispering endlessly: "You are nothing but a mangled  heap of unquenchable ambitions strutting around in the guise of blood and flesh! Will now  and here this  ordeal stop? Embark on the path to salvation in front of you and embrace freedom from this worldly bondage!" The seething winds and the numbing cold, the dispassionate rocks and the rustling leaves, the gloomy skies and the lifeless grasses, all came alive and were inciting me to take the last plunge! "Enough!", interrupting my partner without any manner of preamble, I continued: "Let's leave, Its getting darker and will start raining soon...Let's head home." Every stride I took to reach home was  heavy since I was burdened by the crushing  weight of thoughts pertaining about death and  suicide. Breaking the deafening silence lingering  the journey downhill, my accomplice came up with an afterthought: "The legend here is that even though the ones committing suicide die, their souls do not. Their souls, the legend says, migrate into the trees nearby or wander the hill whispering past the visitors abetting them to commit suicide." I turned  around and took a one last look at the tree under which I sat. Amidst the fading sun and orange clouds, the tree looked like the grim reaper revealing his large claws, growing in enormity as darkness enveloped the hills.

“Fed up with their lives, many disconsolate souls climb up the hill and throw themselves into the dark ravine down below. Till this point in time, No one has survived. No bodies have been recovered.” An innocuous evening  stroll in the hill was soon assuming darker undertones when a chance conversation revealed the lesser known lure of the hills to quench its  blood lust. As I sat down under a tree, I could sense my trains of thought veering into uncharted waters whispering endlessly: “You are nothing but a mangled heap of unquenchable ambitions strutting around in the guise of blood and flesh! Will now and here this ordeal stop? Embark on the path to salvation in front of you and embrace freedom from this worldly bondage! Take the leap!” The seething winds and the numbing cold, the dispassionate rocks and the rustling leaves, the gloomy skies and the lifeless grasses, all came alive and were inciting me to take the last plunge and end my life! “Enough!”, interrupting my partner without any manner of preamble, I continued: “Let’s leave, Its getting darker and will start raining soon…Let’s head home.” Every stride I took to reach home was  heavy since I was burdened by the crushing  weight of thoughts about death and suicide. Breaking the deafening silence lingering  through the journey downhill, my accomplice came up with an afterthought: “The legend says that even though the ones committing suicide die, their souls do not. Their souls, they say, migrate into the trees nearby or wander the hill whispering past the visitors abetting them to commit suicide. The place is haunted and the trees are possessed!” I turned around and took a one last look at the tree under which I sat. Amidst the fading sun and tangerine clouds, the tree looked like the grim reaper revealing its large claws, growing in enormity as darkness enveloped the hills.

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Posted February 5, 2017 by Aneesh in Shutterbug, The Motley Crew

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“Along The Maze of Backwaters !”   7 comments

One of the many meanders along river Pamba. The river banks these days have another contender jostling for space alongside the swaying coconut trees: Concrete. These days, eulogies narrating Alapuzha to be verdant can be put to test with ease ! We chose to freeze this stretch since it had managed to stay away from concrete !!

One of the many meanders along river Pamba. The river banks these days have another contender jostling for space alongside the swaying coconut trees: Concrete. These days, eulogies narrating Alapuzha to be verdant can be put to test with ease ! We chose to freeze this stretch since it had managed to stay away from concrete !!

 

Pamba rarely flows alone. She always has companions sailing along her. The illustrious companion who has strolled into the imagination of the tourists is the all pervasive "House Boats". This illustrious escort of the tourists is an unmistakable sign of changing times in Kuttanad.

Pamba rarely flows alone. She always has companions sailing along her. The illustrious escort who has strolled into the imagination of the tourists is the all pervasive “House Boats” and is an unmistakable sign of changing times in Kuttanad.

 

Roads came along with development, tearing across the hearts  of the verdant paddy fields, making it easy to transport the grains post the harvest. What was hitherto a backbreaking task became a cake walk of sorts now!  The enormous boats of yesteryears were on the verge of becoming obsolete but for the ingenuity of the natives. What shifted mounds of grains back in the yore got a facelift and started transporting tourists!!

Roads came along with development, tearing across the hearts of the verdant paddy fields, making it easy to transport the grains post harvest. What was hitherto a backbreaking task became a cake walk of sorts now! The enormous boats of yesteryears were on the verge of becoming obsolete but for the ingenuity of the natives. What shifted mounds of grains back in the yore got a facelift and started transporting tourists!!

 

Many state owned boats ply along the maze and was the mainstay for the people till yesterday. But the advent of roads piercing the paddy fields have relegated them to the background. Some even call in anachronistic !!

Many state owned boats ply along the maze and was the mainstay for the people till yesterday. But the advent of roads piercing the paddy fields have relegated them to the background. Some even call in anachronistic !!

 

 

 

Posted October 29, 2014 by Aneesh in Bon Voyage, Shutterbug

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“The Lone Abode atop a tiny hill.”   12 comments

The Lonely Abode atop a hillEvery turn you take in High Range, Kerala throws up many surprises. You may discover things ranging from pristine cascades, weather weary rocks, creepy valleys, avian friends, tiny creatures and ill tempered tuskers over the course of your journey. When the road snaked through a nondescript village, inhabited by tea plantation workers, I discovered an isolated abode devoid of all charms but leaving an everlasting impact on me.

Years have rolled past since but I still imagine the way of life in those quaint little villages where life is a long lasting struggle but one can still live life in slow motion amidst nature’s orchestra.

 

“The Charm of Chennai.”   14 comments

The city has its own intricate but hidden charms. You just need to discover it !

The city has its own intricate but hidden charms. You just need to discover it !

Every city has its own culture; something unique of which its citizens are proud. I recently experienced a so-far unmentioned and uncelebrated aspect of Chennai’s “culture”…

Boarding a packed MTC bus can be quite a task. After finding a foothold, I was welcomed aboard with stares conveying displeasure. I wondered how to reach the conductor for a ticket since we were separated by a sea of humanity. Time was slipping away and my heart skipped a beat each time someone mentioned the word “CHECKING” and “FINE” within my earshot.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was a frail lady. With a smile revealing her tobacco-stained teeth, she gestured to hand her the money, which I did reluctantly. After asking for my destination, she turned around searching for someone amid the clamour. It dawned upon me that she was at the business end of things when the rupee note started its journey from the magnanimous lady to a school boy, a working woman, an old man, two college students and a constable eventually ending with the conductor; changing hands at a constant pace from one passenger to another. Barring the exchange of destination, nothing slipped from their mouths.

The ticket reached me the same way. The exact change in coins and the ticket was handed over by the old lady and I didn’t try to hide my gratitude. I later realised that many such patterns were being created by different parties through the length and breadth of the bus.

This “open for all” process should be hailed for its effectiveness and trust since it has saved many from the blushes and the latest being a helpless Keralite: me!

The last time I tried the same in “God’s Own Country”, I parted with a Rs. 50 note and overheard someone whispering “he must be a fool”. That’s when I truly missed Chennai!

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