Memoirs from Gujarat: Why Gujjus are such wonderful people

The year 2015 was all about travel for me. It took me to Bombay, Nainital, McLeodganj, Dalhousie, and the United States (some of these places twice in the same year). And if that wasn't enough geographical variety, the run-up to the New Year washed me up on the westernmost shores of our beautiful country - in Prime Minister Modi's homeland. Travelling in Gujarat was in striking contrast to all my other trips of the past year. The land was arid and devoid of colour or vitality in a lot of places I visited. Everywhere you'd look, you'd find vast, naked landscapes. Your eyes would be deprived of conventional scenery, that is, unless shrubs, grasses, and rocks appealed to your senses (which was certainly the case with me). It was while on this trip that I began to develop a deeper understanding of and a profound respect for the people of Gujarat and Rajasthan. It also occurred to me that their colourful costumes, accessories and traditions could perhaps be their way of making up for the barrenness and lack of colour that characterise their desert lands. Plausible? No? Okay.

We were a group of 5 friends travelling together for the first time. Needless to say, we were super excited, especially because we knew this was the only long holiday we were going to get while at the Young India Fellowship. We travelled from Delhi to Gandhidham on the Bareilly/Ala Hazrat Express. It was a 21-hour journey and the five of us had only 2 confirmed seats in 3AC. How we managed to sleep at night and the amount of fun we had on that train journey are subjects for another post. On the journey we got acquainted with two really sweet and friendly Gujarati families who were also travelling with unconfirmed seats in the same compartment. It made us feel all the richer for not having got confirmed seats, because if we had, we probably wouldn't have gelled with them so well. We also ran into one of the two families on Day 3 in Bhuj; a lovely middle-aged Gujarati couple, who live in Delhi, and their daughter Poorvi. The uncle was witty, and he taught us how to be a smashing player at Bluff, a card game I newly learned on that very journey. The aunty was smart, immensely caring, and reminded me of my own mom, not in the least because she had the same hairdo. Poorvi turned out to be an engineer, as are 3 out of the 5 of us, and it was most amazing to know that she had ALMOST applied for the Young India Fellowship herself! We had a beautiful, if brief, reunion in Bhuj and amidst much hugging and photographing, we avowed to keep in touch. Here's really hoping we do.

The lovely Gujarati family from Delhi who made our train journey one to cherish forever.

Tired after the journey but excited to be in Gujarat.

Our itinerary mapped five cities in and around Kutch district in western Gujarat. We de-boarded the train at Gandhidham and checked in to Chandan Hotel, located right across from the railway station and undoubtedly one of the better hotels in the city. Having a Gujju friend (Priyank) with us proved to be a blessing throughout the trip - it got us many a good bargain, as also great help whenever we needed. With his help, I also began to understand and read Gujarati very quickly. Today I can proudly claim that I can't get lost in Gujarat even if I weren't able to ask anybody anything - I can read the road signs and billboards now. Mean feat for a five-day trip, eh?

Our itinerary marked on the map of Gujarat.

On Day 1, we took a local bus from Gandhidham to Mandvi beach. This was my fourth brush with the mighty Arabian Sea, after three visits to Bombay in the last two years. There is a direct road from Gandhidham to Mandvi, but the bus took a longer route that passed through Bhuj. And so our journey unwittingly took us through the city that always reminds me of the devastating earthquake that hit it in 2001. (It was only later in the trip, while exploring Bhuj and Morbi, that we discovered that the damages from 15 years ago had still not been completely undone. Seeing the destruction with our own eyes was unsettling.) We passed through the Gujarati countryside, along the Bhuj-Mirzapur road, that basically had sparse vegetation but loads of rocks, cacti and dust on both sides. This fairly uniform landscape was broken every now and then by a tiny water body, too small to be called a lake or even pond. I had studied in high school geography how the soils of semi-arid and arid areas could grow very little crops. In Gujarat I came face to face with this reality; all I could see for miles and miles on end was shrubbery and fallow croplands. Did they grow nothing, or was it off season for agriculture? And that very instant, as if in answer to my question, the rocks on my left gave way to a particularly green stretch of land with sugarcane and mustard plantations, newly sowed fields, and lush palm trees. I was taken aback for a second. Was I still in Kutch? Clearly a lot of hard work and toil had gone into turning these dry fields into arable, fertile land. The indomitable spirit of the people of Gujarat blew my socks away.

Cacti and grassy terrain...

...interspersed with the occasional canal...

...and giving way to lush green fields and palm trees. Gujarat never ceases to surprise you!

It was an entirely pristine feeling being the only tourists on the bus. As we were to discover over the next 5 days, there weren't many tourists in any of the places we went to (except at the White Rann). It got me wondering why so less people visit this immensely beautiful and culturally rich state of India. Gujarat needs a better tourism promotion strategy. Gujarat Tourism's ad campaigns starring Amitabh Bachchan clearly aren't working very well.

While hurtling down the dusty roads, I spotted a lot of temples from the window. Some stood out in the middle of fields, while others lay cramped between narrow rows of houses in urban settings. Priyank explained that Gujaratis are intensely religious people. Their daily lives, including their professions and relationships, are greatly influenced by their religious beliefs. Everything in the state in fact begins and ends with myriad deities' names. Their unfaltering faith in the Almighty certainly seems to contribute to their happy spirits and undying vivacity. Gujjus are such warm, straightforward, gracious and generous people! The flippant and comical way in which this community is painted on TV and in films may be a case of stereotyping (remember Khichdi, Kal ho Na ho, Sarabhai vs Sarabhai?), but Gujaratis really have a great sense of humour. And they absolutely love food. To quote our wonderful taxi driver (who took us to the White Rann on Day 2), "Hum Gujarati log sabko hasa hasa kar khush rehte hain." So the stereotypes have some truth to them after all! And maybe, just maybe, this inherent sense of benevolence and bonhomie also makes them a happy clan? (Inviting all Gujaratis reading this to offer their own opinions on the matter!) 

You're right - that's a religious shrine all right. But is it a temple or a mosque? Hard to tell? Well, that's the point.

Call me crazy for over-generalising, but Gujjus are also the most optimistic people I've ever seen. A little while after I had boarded the train from Delhi, I fished out my camera to take some shots - only to find the battery slot empty! An awkward realisation hit me: I must have left the battery at home. I was disappointed beyond measure, but more profound was my embarrassment at having left behind an important component of the one reason people take me on trips with them. (Kidding...I hope that's not true.) But I was bent upon not letting my camera go to waste, so on reaching Gandhidham, I paid a visit to the nearby market to look for a camera store. Acting upon a series of directions given by random locals, I managed to locate a store after a while and was promised that they'd order a battery for me and it'd arrive by the same time next day. Happy with the turn of events, I went about the rest of the day clicking pictures with my phone. The next morning, when I called up the store owner, I was informed that there was some problem in supply due to which they hadn't got the battery yet, BUT they would surely get it the next day. Not wanting to put all my eggs in one basket, as they say, I set out for the market again to look for another store. To my utter surprise and amusement, at every shop I showed up to, they wouldn't have what I needed but they would unfailingly direct me to another shop where they thought I'd get it. In the process I paid a visit to a grocery shop, a general store, and a telecom store as well. I was utterly amazed by the Gujaratis' heights of optimism!

Need I say I didn't find a battery that day?

This sign at Prag Mahal (Bhuj) says that the 'Khushboo Gujarat ki' ad film with Amitabh Bachchan was shot here in August 2010. Some proud resident of Kutch decided to add the additional bit in Hindi right below for added effect.

No matter how marvellous I found the state of Gujarat, there was this one thing that caught my eye and irked me quite a bit: most signs, billboards, and bus routes in Gujarat were in the native language. There were very little Hindi or English translations, with the only exception being the signboards put up by Gujarat Tourism, which had English as well as Gujarati. Now I do recognise the need for every ethnic and linguistic group to assert its identity, most of all in their own homeland. But to expect visitors from across the country and the world to be able to read these signs is asking for too much, isn't it? Just because I picked it up doesn't mean everyone can, or would even want to. Whether this could be explained as a case of ethnocentrism or linguistic chauvinism, or something entirely else, I leave it to each one's own interpretation.  But in many ways, it effectively shuts off the group and their land to the outside world. But I will admit here: I'm unable to connect with this feeling of linguistic pride, since I've been brought up on Hindi and English, even though my native language is Punjabi (and part Multani). I understand and regularly speak in all three languages, but having lived in Delhi all my life, I am accustomed to a multi-lingual existence where the language I use isn't necessarily an assertion of my identity or nativity. That brings me on to the threshold of an even more complex question: do I even have a native place? Can I call pre-partition Pakistan, where my roots apparently lie, my native place? I'm not sure if any signs of my family's existence across the border remain to this day. But I'd like to cross the border and find out for myself. Someday.

 ~

I have a lot more to recount from my days in Gujarat. So stay tuned, for I'll be back with a proper travelogue very soon. Till then, keep travelling, and keep smiling!

P.S. I've got some really exclusive pictures and travel tales up on my Instagram from when I was still in Gujarat. Check them out now!

Dusk on the Arabian Sea

Sometimes, just sometimes, you want to be left alone to your thoughts.

Sometimes it's not love you want, but the wondrous sight of dusk at sea. 

In those times, all else seems to stop existing around you.

All that is alive is the sand, the sun, and ripples of the ocean.

Sometimes you don't want to go with the flow, or stand against the tide.

Sometimes, just sometimes, you want to stand by and watch the raging waves.

You want to be swept away by the wind but stay rooted to a speck of the earth.

You want to stop moving and listen to the sounds of what's past and what is to come.

In these moments, you cease to be you and float above

To discover, you are the world, and the world is you.

You are the cool of the breeze and the pink of the setting sun.

You are the salt in the water, the voice of the places you have been.

Stranger tides may have tossed you ashore,

But here you are today.

The water is calling, the sun inviting,

Dive in and find out what lies deep within.

Because in this moment, you are you.

And nobody can take this away from you.

Savour the sensation, for it won't last

Neither will the world, and nor will you.

Travel responsibly: Save the world, one trip at a time

Recent environmental pollution statistics announced by the WHO reveal that the world is fast becoming an inhabitable place. The more popular a place becomes, whether for settling, working, or travelling to, the more it gets polluted in the long run. This got me thinking on how we, as travellers, can save the world from degenerating beyond redemption.

Delhi, the most polluted city in the world? 

Young ragpickers at a severely polluted garbage dump site in New Delhi (Source)

It was a highly unpleasant, if not entirely unexpected, surprise to see my city Delhi on top of the list of the world's most polluted cities. Everywhere I go, monument, garden or market, there are signs of extensive littering. The problem of pollution and waste disposal is deep-rooted; metropolitan cities like Delhi are just more visible manifestations. While local populations and municipalities are responsible for keeping their cities clean and green, the duty is equally of the tourists and visitors who often pollute tourist destinations and move on to other places without claiming ownership for their acts. Being a traveller, I am intensely conscious of travelling responsibly. Here's why you should too.

The environmental cost of travel

Pollution is yellowing the Taj Mahal in Agra (Source)

Tourist destinations are polluted in a number of different ways, some of which the tourists can control, and some, not so much. Leaving behind plastic bags, waste bottles and cans, food and drink, paper and other garbage is the most common reason for pollution of tourist places. Excessive reliance on taxis and other private transport to get around is another, albeit less known, source of environmental pollution. Accumulation of garbage in water bodies and natural ecosystems impacts animals' living conditions, often leading to mass deaths and extinction of species due to habitat destruction. Littering in public places also acts as an eyesore, putting off both residents and visitors. In this age of the Internet, this seriously tarnishes the image of the place, reducing tourist traffic and thus harming the local economy. A classic example of the effect of pollution on national heritage in India is the rapid degradation of the Taj Mahal in Agra due to severe vehicular pollution. The recent flash floods in Kedarnath, Uttarakhand, were also partly attributed to relentless pollution and development in the fragile Himalayan ecosystem. Apart from these well-known incidences, countless water bodies around the country (and world) are shrinking, important ecosystems are being destroyed, tourist cities are becoming dumpsters, and precious little is being done to abate this gargantuan disaster.

A boy walks on a polluted beach in Tamil Nadu (Source)

In what ways can travellers contribute?

Eco-tourism is the need of this century. While some tourist attractions in India (such as the Andaman and Nicobar islands) have put in place strict restrictions on tourism, many parts of the country still depend on tourism to support their local economies. In such a situation, the moral responsibility of maintaining the sanctity and cleanliness of a place rests on the travellers. Littering, leaving behind garbage at tourist attractions and other such denigrating habits must strictly be avoided. As much as possible, tourists should rely on public transport or rickshaws to travel within a city. The more the number of vehicles employed in tourists' service, the more the emissions will rise. And since these rules and guiding principles are not written down in a binding document anywhere, self-regulation is the key. Moreover, the developmental activities being undertaken to attract and facilitate tourist crowds cannot be halted due to the ever-rising economic concerns of a developing country like India. But it is high time we, the travellers, became pro-active and mindful of our massive footprint on the planet. Let the impact you leave behind on this world be positive; something worth remembering you fondly for.

The global community of travellers can do a lot to save the world from pollution and degradation. Indeed, we owe it to the planet to preserve its beauty for many generations of residents and travellers to come.

* * *

This article was originally published on my Askme on travel blog, here.

Fun with family on a winter vacation in Goa

(A version of this travelogue was originally published by me on Askme on travel. Replicating here for my blog readers.)

Come winter, and the whole of North India heads southwards to get some much-needed sun. It was on such a cold January day in 2014 that my parents also decided to take us south of the Tropic of Cancer. And what place could be better than Goa to escape from the frigid Delhi winter?

On the first day of our vacation, we set out for North Goa, the first stop being Fort Aguada. It is most famous today as the fort where scenes from the movie Dil Chahta Hai were shot. The fort is expansive; the upper fort has beautiful bastions and a giant white lighthouse in one corner. The lower fort, visible from the Arabian Sea, was used to anchor Portuguese ships in the 17th century, but now serves as the Goan jail.

Looks familiar? Yeah! This is that single spot in the entire fort where young tourists take the most number of pictures.

The upper fort area, complete with the whitewashed Portuguese lighthouse in the corner.

Just below the fort, we went for an hour-long 'Dolphin Safari' on the river Mandovi. In the first 45 minutes of the tour, we didn’t spot a single creature. Disappointed, we turned and were just heading back when someone shouted, "Dolphin!" We all turned in his direction and discovered a school of dolphins swimming along the left side of our boat. They were utterly glossy and looked really excited! We thereafter had plenty of visits from these friendly freshwater creatures over the next few minutes of our tour. The day ended with us relaxing on Anjuna beach and going on an evening safari filled with cultural performances and beautiful views of the sunset over river Zuari.

The mandatory 'write your name in the sand' picture. How could I not take one?

The isolated and peaceful Baina Beach in Vasco da Gama city. Remember the movie Josh? I always adored the Goan-slang-speaking, muscle-flexing Shahrukh Khan and the lovelorn Chandra Chur Singh.

The next morning, we visited the relatively isolated Baina beach. Another short drive away is the Abyss Marine Aquarium in Verna. The sheer variety of marine life on display in the various glass aquariums there was mind-boggling; I especially loved the turtles. It was still only afternoon, so we headed out to Old Goa, a city within the North Goa district, to get a dose of Portuguese heritage. We visited the Basilica of Bom Jesus, a UNESCO world heritage site, and also the resting place of the mortal remains of St. Francis Xavier. Being an art student now, I can fully appreciate the dramatic 16th-century baroque architecture exemplified by the basilica. Across the road stands the contrastingly white Church of St. Francis of Assisi, another 17th-century Portuguese church. We also shopped for souvenirs at the bazaar in front of the church before calling it a day.

The world-famous Goan brew, Fenny (Feni) as well as locally-brewed Port Wine. We got back loads of these. Some are still lying unopened.

Walking through the spice farms at Curti, Ponda, with a group of tourists from the world over.

A lip-smacking, delicious organic meal was served to us at the Sahakari Spice Farm, along with shots of red-coloured fenny.

The next day, we drove out of the city for over an hour to reach Curti in Ponda, the most important industrial centre of Goa. The famous Sahakari Spice Farm located here offers tourists a glimpse into the practices of organic plantations. The farm staff invited us in a traditional way and gave us a guided tour of the farm and the various spices that grow there, along with their medicinal properties and uses. Later, we were served a sumptuous meal made with completely organic produce; and it was truly lip-smacking! On our way back from Ponda, we stopped at a small temple to pay our respects; this area houses a majority of the Hindu temples in Goa. We also stopped at a beach to go skinny-dipping at sunset and also shop for little somethings like fridge magnets, jewellery, and keyrings. Another thing we didn't give a miss was the world-famous Goan Feni (or Fenny), and we made it a point to bring back some as well.

* * *

While returning to Delhi, I couldn't help but think of the great time I had in Goa. We did not just do the clichéd 'beach thing', but had a variety of other experiences, ranging from the touristy - like Fort Aguada, Old Goa and the boat cruises, to the offbeat - like the aquarium and spice farm visits. And I enjoyed it all with my family, which I hope is enough to dispel the myth that Goa is only worth being visited with friends. It is in fact the perfect destination for a winter vacation with family too!

...and that's how I learned to party.

My journey thus far with the Young India Fellowship has been life-altering in so many ways. It has revolutionised the manner in which I think, broadened the boundaries within which I've historically kept myself confined, and introduced me to deeper, more beautiful aspects of the world and its people. I cannot be grateful enough for the profound impact YIF has had on my academic and professional inclinations, but I'll reserve writing about that for another time. Tonight I'd rather write about another great change this place is constantly bringing about in my life - my social life, to be precise. 

I have learned to enjoy the company of people.

Until three months ago, I had been to less parties than I could count on the fingers of one hand. Whether it was for a lack of opportunity, or the absence of a consistent friend circle, or simply my own anti-social temperament, I cannot say for sure. Perhaps it was due to a combination of all these that I never partied much. I have always preferred to hang out with one, maybe two, people at a time. Not to forget, I have seldom had more than a couple of close friends at any given point of time in my 20-odd years as a social being. I haven't gone out clubbing with a bunch of friends, I haven't given birthday treats to big groups of people. I have even gone so far as to run in the opposite direction on spotting a known face in a crowded metro. I am perfectly at ease sitting in the corner of a huge hall, observing and generally being self-absorbed for hours on end, without ever feeling the need to talk to more than two or three people. I may be anti-social or introverted; I really don't know how to distinguish between them. My life's journey has always been characterised as a little caravan trudging along by itself.

But in the last three months, all of that has changed. I have received more hugs than I ever received in all of my 24 years put together. I have said countless 'Good Mornings' and 'Good Nights', said hello to more people in a day than I would earlier manage to greet in a month, and attended more birthday parties than I've had of my own. All in the span of three months, no more. I had never thought I would be a part of such an organic, ever-growing, ever-changing community of people who are as different from each other as could be. We are bound together by a common address but almost nothing else. (Okay, maybe also the tag of being 'the brightest minds of the country'. But that's just how we like to see ourselves. You don't have to agree.)

Midnight birthday parties have taken on a new significance. Making someone feel special doesn't just come as part of a relationship or a 'best friendship' anymore. For some it is the prospect of a get-together that brings them to such parties, for others the chance to dance and make merry, and for still others, free cake and booze. But birthday parties are great events at the YIF. Everybody puts in a lot of effort to decorate the birthday girl's room (I'm talking here only about women's residence parties, because those are the ones I go to), to write beautiful and fun messages for her, and sometimes come up with gifts as well. People come and go, but the party goes on until the wee hours of the morning. And the next day the birthday girl mostly goes off to Delhi with another set of friends to celebrate her birthday. But the tradition repeats itself with the very next birthday. I, admittedly, was never a person for parties, but I am coming to enjoy this routine. It's a great way of de-stressing after a day of classes and work, and also of getting together with those fellows whom I otherwise don't hang out with on a day to day basis.

...and that's how, at the Young India Fellowship, I learned to party. I'm not anti-social anymore. Is that sort of a personal achievement? I'd like to think so.

Festivals have also taken on a whole new meaning since I came here. At home we are used to celebrating only select festivals every year - Diwali, Rakshabandhan, Bhai Dooj, and sometimes Holi. But at the Fellowship, as it turns out, we celebrate everything. I have been a part of two cultural festivals here that I had never celebrated before: Onam and Navratri Dandiya Raas, the latter having concluded only last week. It was great fun dressing up for the dandiya night, especially since I had nothing to wear for the occasion. I borrowed stuff from here and there and put together a decent ensemble that made me look almost-Gujarati. I learned some Garba and Dandiya steps, too, and danced till my feet refused to obey my command. On a more serious note, one of the fellows broke her nose while playing dandiya. Another friend had to leave the fellowship soon after, and that night saw my last conversation with her. I think it was a memorable night for everyone.

This post might sound reductive in its chronicling of the life of a Young India Fellow. But really, partying isn't what we actually do. If I were to begin describing a typical day at the Fellowship, it would take many a reader's breath away with its sheer variety and hectic nature.

On second thought, though, I think that's exactly what my next post will be about. A typical day at the YIF. The real stuff. Good stuff.

But for now, I'll sign off with an ending note: Applications to the Young India Fellowship are open! So if you'd like to see your life change too, do not hesitate. Go to the website and fill in the online application form. It is an opportunity that presents itself only once in everybody's lifetime. Do not miss it. If you are passionate, energetic, and wish to make a difference in some way, the YIF is for you, and you are for the YIF. Carpe diem!