Nek Chand's Dream

Bicycle track along a Chandigarh avenue

From the Rose Garden at Chandigarh

The city of Chandigarh is the capital of two States, Punjab and Haryana. Conceptualised by Le Corbusier, a city of wide avenues and wider slip roads with bicycle tracks, everything at right angles, a first class drainage system, vast acres of cultured greens, a wonderful system of traffic control and uniform blocks of utility buildings, it is nevertheless known for a unique park called the Rock Garden, created by otherwise, quite an ordinary person named Nek Chand Saini. Abandoned pieces of rock, dug up and thrown away during the time the city was being built, caught his attention and he worked on thousands of these pieces of rock, trying to give shape to his ideas. Gradually, he won acceptance and some land was allotted to him where put up his open air gallery and then, started to craft artificial hills and forts from cement, placing his rough hewn stones between them. He was only a public works inspector.

Nek Chand passed away a few days ago, past 90. To the last, he was agile and active. Since I had an opportunity to visit a few weeks back, let me share his visions, his dreams with you 

This looked like a gathering at some village fair

Maybe a forest goddess

Remembrances of his village hut

In the later stages, he has used such throwaways as ceramic power sockets, discarded and broken plates, broken paving tiles, broken ceramic tiles and the like. From all these, he has created likenesses of monkeys, jackals and leopards apart from human forms, arrayed along the serpentine pathways.

Such was his dream, a fantasy and apart from that, it remains of course, a unique experiment in urban renewal.

Rufous Treepie Calling

 

I tried to capture the treepie calling in video mode a few months back. With the zoom on, my hands were not steady enough. There was also a lot of background noise since a major road is nearby. And after transfer to the computer, it took me some time to figure out the movie maker and to make a wmv file. Could not resist adding a layer of music and thereby, my first video upload!

Tonight

Tonight

Thin sliver 
of a reddish moon

Waves of your
memories

The curve of
your mouth

You and me,
tonight 
__________

Just out of school, I got this cassette titled "Guilty", by Barbra Streisand. This is one of the songs I remember from that album and everytime I play it, can't but be amazed by the force and range of her voice and the passion with which she sings it. One of my favourites. Memory, by Barbra Streisand -

Heritage buildings at Simla

I have always loved the hills but it has been quite a while.
This time, as soon as the hills appeared round the bends, I could somehow, feel their presence. 

It was as if these massive mounds of boulders and earth that are home to hundreds, thousands of plant and animal species, as if they were fulfilling their duties much like us lesser mortals, as if these mountains and ancient trees were living, breathing and we silently acknowledged each other. And I really, distinctly felt the warm hug of a welcome ...

As we ascended swiftly, suddenly my mind went blank. Stared out of the car window, bends and climbs, as if in a stupor

You, who walk with me in my living dream, you, who travel the same path with me in distant time

There are a just a handful of heritage buildings left in Shimla as I saw it, away from the urges of development as it is meant in modern terms

These are entirely woodbuilt, perched on steep hills and are extremely picturesque. This one has been taken over by the government, awaiting restoration and is definitely of sufficient vintage since the ground floor appears to have been built at least in the earlier parts of the 20th century

Inexplicably, this mansion set in sufficient acreage in a prominent part of Shimla seemed to be sadly decrepit and crumbling, a perfect setting for paranormal activities 

You, the other side of my existence, troubled as it might be, fraught with conflicts, questions and irreconcilable differences

It was extremely rewarding to find the Amateur Dramatics Club, founded in 1837 behind the Gaiety Theater and a bookshop selling only old books,some of them really old. And the popular cafes, favoured by the locals as well as the wandering soul. And the paratha stuffed with minced meat, served with a hot gravy and yogurt

Totally loved Shimla, its people and its produce in fruits. The apricots, the cherries were heavenly. Even though the density of population has to be seen to be believed, 

Finally, the temple dedicated to the Mother goddess Kali, a place for all people from the State of West Bengal to congregate. At one end of the Ridge, with a spectacular view

 

You, who take my breath away, you, who permeate my earth, you, who look down upon me in starched moonlight

One of those dark nights, lashed by storms and flashes of blue lightning. A bit of rain. Trees swaying madly with the wind, resenting the unrest. But the storm will subside, they will again be left standing peaceably, enjoying the sun.

Pinjore Gardens

Twenty two kms from Chandigarh on the Shimla highway lies the Pinjore gardens. Originally laid in seven descending levels by the local Mughal governor during the times of the Emperor Aurangzeb in the early 17th century and later, refurbished by the Patiala royals of Punjab, these gardens are now under the Haryana (State)Tourism. The Pandav brothers of Mahabharat fame are also known to have rested here for there was a natural spring, during their twelve year exile after they lost their kingdom over a game of dice

There is a central water channel with fountains, surrounded by groves in neat quadrants. 

Some ancient cypresses also, home to hundreds of huge fruit bats. Notice the gradually descending levels 

The Jal Mahal is a chamber surrounded with water. The entire place is lighted up in the evening and I suppose the white external paint has been applied to contrast well with the lighting effects at night 

In my opinion however, the coat of white paint has been somewhat out of character with the place, considering the 400 year old history. On top of that, airconditioned rooms, a banquet hall for hire and bars and restaurants have made it a picnic destination rather than a heritage destination though the need for generating revenues cannot just be wished away. Kids would love it though! 

There is an interesting resource about the Pinjore gardens in the 1913 book by C M Villiers Stuart, titled the Gardens of the Great Mughals, which can be accessed here. 

Wandering through the groves, I came across a felled pipal or ficus tree, which perhaps, showed more character 

And this 19th century steam locomotive, clearly one of the earliest ones, displayed outside, rubbing shoulders with a water park, joyrides and beverages counters 

Also heard a pair of koels in full flow and was quite surprised to find the female and the male on trees opposite each other. Looked like the missus had a lot of complaints which she was intent on sharing with anyone who might care to lend an ear, while the gentleman was appropriately sheepish   

Solitude

Every time I am alone, I concede defeat to myself, kneel in abject misery .. something like this I read and remember still, from decades back in Calcutta. Those days were those of long walks down the chaotic streets of the city, chilling at the ghats by the Bhagirathi river and browsing old books.

 Those days, the only phone we knew of was in the room of the warden, the doc and that apart, you needed an infinite supply of one rupee coins to phone up your beloved from the booth across the street while your chums furiously smoked away your pitiful savings

It has been quite sometime since then. And all this while, I do not remember very  many occasions when I was alone, ensconced comfortably with me. And these days it is increasingly becoming difficult with something or the other that must always be attended to. Immediate, Urgent, Top Priority being merrily bandied about. Things constantly needing attention. Things that are constantly breaking down. Grievances that must be settled. Now!

One begins to long for some solitude. The kind of solitude when one can be at complete peace and harmony with existence. 

Here is one famous poem by Derek Walcott, 
Love after Love 

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life. 

And then, Paulo Coelho on solitude - 

" If you are never alone, you cannot know yourself. And if you do not know yourself, you will begin to fear the void. 

But the void does not exist. A new world lies hidden in our soul, waiting to be discovered. There it is, with all its strength intact, but it is so new and powerful that we are afraid to acknowledge its existence." 

"For those who feel oppressed by solitude, it is important to remember that at life's most significant moments, we are always alone" 

This is what R M Drake says, without mentioning solitude - 

" There is a space inside us. One that no matter how close we get, this space can only be filled by our own laughter and our own sorrow. It is something we cannot depend on other people for. It is something we have to make sense of by ourselves"

Finally, the story of Buddha's enlightenment, in the words of Osho -  

"He had lived through all kinds of extremes: he had lived like an ascetic, tortured himself. For six years he suffered as much as a human being can suffer. He had become just bones, all flesh had disappeared. He looked like he had come out of a grave. 

Then one evening he saw the futility of human effort. He saw the futility of human ego - because all efforts are egoistic: I will attain. The I is behind all your achievements. desires of achievements. 

Ego lives, feeds on success; it cannot live in failure. It deserts you.

That evening the ego disappeared. The full moon rose. For six years he had not noticed the moon at all, he was so preoccupied with his own spiritual attainment. The night was cool and beautiful. The forest was silent, and the river Niranjana flowed by. He enjoyed the reflections of the moon on the river. He enjoyed the silence. Then he fell asleep. 

He slept without any dreams, because all dreams are the by products of desires. In the morning when it was dawn and the birds started singing he awoke. Lying under the tree, nowhere to go, nothing to do, he watched the sun rise over the horizon; the east becoming red and a beautiful morning and the cool breeze .. And something happened, something clicked. 

Not out of six years' constant striving of the ego, but only one night's state of no ego, no desire. 

Six years before he had dropped the kingdom and all material possessions. He had carried only one longing - for the truth. That night he gave up the last desire. The whole night he slept in a dreamless sleep. That created the opportunity. As he opened his eyes - for the first time without any desire - the last star was setting, and with the last star setting, he suddenly became aware, so full of awareness .... the sun rose outside and the sun also rose inside."

A beautiful story, isn't it? Imagine the power of solitude and a moondrenched night in the forest. One happy solitude that enabled the Buddha, elevated him to enlightenment.  

The Buddha in New Delhi

Last Monday, May 4th, was celebrated as Buddha Purnima. The word purnima meaning the full moon. Full moon in the month of Vaishakha, when the Buddha was born, received enlightenment and passed away. A day thrice blessed. Gazing upon the reddish moon over the horizon, I remembered seeing the relics in the National Museum just about a year back, and these are the pictures from that visit.

This is a remarkable sculpture by Deviprasad Roychoudhury, the water girl. Displayed outdoors as an essential part of the building ...

I don't know the artists who sculpted the following two pieces which are also displayed outdoors, but the bust of Gandhi could be by Ramkinkar of Shantiniketan.

The National Museum has many treasures, dating from different times. The following picture is that of a marble image of the goddess Saraswati, deity of the letters. She is normally picturised as playing on the veena, a string instrument but here, she is holding the holy scriptures, clearly birch bark tomes in her left hand. It is possible that this image originally carried the veena in her right hand which has now disintegrated. 

This is perhaps the most valuable artifact in the Museum, the dancing girl discovered in Mohenjodaro, dating back to the Harappan civilization about 4000 BC. A replica of course, the original safely under custody. Nevertheless, there was an armed guard in these rooms. 

This is one of my favorites, one of the Gandhara Buddhas, interpreted under Grecian influence after the incursion of Alexander into present day Afghanistan in the 4th century BC. In the centuries after, Buddhist kingdoms flourished in those parts and we must remember that one of the great heritages of the world, the Bamiyan Buddha that was carved out of an entire hillside in Afghanistan, was demolished by the completely rogue, uncouth, subhuman, insensate and illiterate bunch known as the Taliban 

Another Buddha image and as far as I can remember or guess, this is from the Kushan period, 1st to 5th century AD 

Buddha head, another marvel of the olden days. The Grecian influence is visibly apparent. This is displayed in the same room as the sacred relics

In the early seventies, the Archaeological Survey carried out an excavation in Piprahwa in the State of Uttar Pradesh, a few kilometers away from the Nepal border where supposedly, a soapstone casket was unearthed containing some charred bone fragments, proclaimed to be the relics of the Buddha himself. There is a tradition that the incarcerated remains of the earthly body of the Buddha were divided into eight parts and this one was claimed as one of them. The claim has been hotly disputed and one can check resources available on the net. Fact remains that modern scientific procedures are available to the government and these relics appear to have been accepted by the Sri Lankan and Thai governments as well, the gold pavilion being a present from Thai royalty 

I saw a large number of people from distant lands who were sitting silently before the relic, meditating and turning their prayer beads, going around the pavilion in silent veneration. Personal beliefs apart, if indeed these are the sacred relics from 5th century BC, then the National Museum has a treasure that is simply beyond belief. In the foreground, you can see the soapstone urns or caskets encased in glass

For the Buddha was one of the greatest human beings that ever lived and even the Christ had most certainly been exposed to his teachings during his days. Come to think of it, there is a school of thought that believes the final resting place of the Christ is in India, and no, this is not another Dan Browne mystery like the Da Vinci Code. Or, is it!

The Buddha saw the pitifully old, the diseased and the dying. That set him forth on his quest. Quitting his enviably cushy position as a crown prince. Toiling for years, a mendicant, an ascetic. Resisting temptations. Resisting vanity and the ego. I would not venture further for fear of being labelled, but these circumstances of the Buddha's life have always held a powerful, magnetic attraction to me. Especially when he says that the cause of all suffering is desire. 

If you want to be rid of suffering, all you have to do is abjure desire. Simple, right? 

Actually, it is not. Trust me. 

The next picture is that of an Avalokiteshwar statue. Meaning, the Lord who gazes down, compassionate. One of the Bodhisattvas, or beings with the essence of the Buddha in  them, as I can loosely transcribe

The teachings of the Buddha have conquered the entire Asia, including China and Japan. Reasonably so, for Asians are fond of reasons and logic. And the Buddha was entirely logical. Perhaps, his depth of understanding made him rule over the natural world as well as it certainly seems to have been, but the fact that sets him apart is his unrelenting quest for the truth. Not for himself. For the entire humankind.