Cutting Loose

Last week, I attended a glitzy Travel Writers’ Conclave in Lucknow powered by a resurgent Uttar Pradesh Tourism. This was preceded by a visit to one of three nodal cities that comprise the newly-introduced Heritage Arc. In what appears to be an earnest bid to swell tourist footfalls to the state, the powers-that-be in the governing dispensation conjured up this concept to better the weather-beaten Golden Triangle. So shared a greatly chuffed Chief Minister during his inaugural address at the conclave. Translating the boss’ excitement into real-time tangibles falls now to the Tourism Promotion Board as well as the current Director-General Tourism, an uncharacteristically creative bureaucrat credited with mooting the idea itself. Regardless of good intentions, they clearly have their jobs cut out for them.

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Before and after my visit, that is. Up until then, Ayodhya for the most part was cloaked in indifferent obscurity. Cross referenced every now and then with childhood reminiscences of Amar Chitra Katha comics. They were an early introduction to our cultural heritage, their colour-infused pages peopled with historical and mythological figures.Well-researched storylines, costumes, architectural and factual details that overshadowed the pedagogy of school textbooks helped us ace many a general knowledge test.

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I travel a whole lot in case you hadn’t noticed. For leisure and for work, and have been doing so for over two decades. That’s nearly as much time as I spent trying to get formally educated. No points for guessing which one was more edifying. It should come as no surprise then that life-on-the-road has begotten me opinion-altering epiphanies and copious amounts of perspicacity much in the same manner as life-as-usual has for others.

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Pulling rank on a 4×4-wielding younger relative was never more fun. Especially when it meant making the acquaintance of a road never travelled. That he himself is an off-roading enthusiast meant the proverbial gun to the head would remain cable-locked.

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Conservatory conversations – Raja, Uttam, Lama, Shalini

They should have called them Hook, Line, and Sinker. For, have no doubt, you will be falling for them. I refer to the reception turn-out at a recent home-stay experience in Bhowali, a short, mostly pretty drive away from Nainital, Bhimtal and Sattal. Flowery garlands, aromatic sprinkles, exotic drinks, refreshing wipes, gel-coiffed cheery staff, step aside. Nothing quite says ‘Welcome’ like a woof, a wag, and a…whoa…slurp! If you disagree, read no further, because this post is about the house where Raja, Lama, and Cyber live.

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Outside Old Courts, Nabha

Early on in February this year a motley lot largely comprising Europeans was spotted excitedly finding its way around the flatlands of Punjab. Somewhat out of character, one would say, as the state as a whole is not known to be a destination for mass tourism or group travel. Excepting, of course, sundry jathas headed to one or more of its historical or popular places of faith, which is generally a domestic movement with the odd NRI family thrown in.

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Nothing in the bumpy ride from a desultory train station to your hotel quite prepares you for the whimsy-wonder that is Churu. On the face of it, it is just another unexceptional town fringing the Great Thar largely notorious for mercurial swings ranging from near freezing point to hovering around the 50 degrees mark in high summer.

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Determined doer

Were I to pick a single indelible impression from my visit to Hyderabad last year, the genteel mien of an indomitable Suraiya Hassan Bose jumps promptly to attention. A spry eighty-something who has devoted the past three decades of her life to reviving Persian textiles. For the most part, unaided.

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Dear Peeved Mountain-loving Subscriber,

This one is for you. Just this once. For no reason other than that I empathise with your yearning for a topography nonpareil; indeed my bailiwick.

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Grammy-winner Pete Locket

For a place named after wealth, Sirpur has clearly witnessed, is witnessing, vastly varying tides of fortune. This is one of myriad thoughts that flit through my mind as I sit watching the third edition of the Sirpur National Dance and Music Festival (16^th-18^th Jan) unfold before me.

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