April Showers in Naggar

Bright sunny mornings in this Himalayan Hamlet give way to cold and rainy late-afternoons. In the greyness, it’s easy to forget how beautiful a thunderstorm in the Himalayas can be, especially if you have the luxury of a warm cup of tea and a balcony to observe the nature from. The grey clouds move swiftly to the Himalayan snow-covered peaks and swallow them. Alas, the storm isn’t strong enough to melt the snow as the peaks are at an altitude where they stay frozen. 

The rain also cleans up whatever little pollution exists here, making the air even more fresh and therapeutic. The prolonged cold in the Kullu Valley has kept the tourist hordes away for at least another few days, but with the opening of the Rohtang Pass, expect the noisy plains-people to come here in the thousands!

The showers continue on and off through the evening. The banging of drums from a nearby temple can be heard. And in the distance, is visible a small town on the other bank of the Beas. At night, the vehicles moving on the highway to the plains look like a long bejewelled serpent. And the lights on the hills and the small villages have the appearance of tiny pearls.

To think that I am just a few Himalayan mountains and a pass away from the Land of the Broken Moon, Laddakh! The Laddakhis and I breathe almost the same air. We see the same skies and same imposing range of mountains. Farther beyond Laddakh lays East Turkestan and the desert that leads to Kashgar. Will we ever have it like the Europeans so that one day, not a single travel document will be required to cross over the Sanju Pass, to spend a few days on the other side of the Karakorum Mountains?

A Walk in the Clouds and to the Summit

It’s 7 am in Naggar and the only living beings that are awake are the birds. No motorbikes or jeeps with diesel fumes driving up the hills! It’s too early for the children to be walking to school. The sun isn’t shining yet, but it is already bright and I decide to walk up to the ancient Krishna temple on top of the hill. 

It’s easy to miss the small forest path that leads up to the temple. Like most treasures, it is partly hidden. The trek up the narrow wooded path is heavenly. Fragrant are the pine groves, like their counterparts in distant Sakhalin. The air here is as pure and fresh as it is on my beloved Russian Island.

I see a few beautiful traditional Himachali homes as I walk up and then it’s just forest all the way to the temple. The hill-top temple has the best view in all of Naggar. Visible are the chain of snow-covered peaks and green rolling hills below them. From up here, it is just pure nature. No farms, no construction and no people (except for the family that lives up here). This is where I realise why Himachal is called the abode of the gods. The more you move away from human settlement, the fresher, more pristine and purer the Himalayan landscape gets. A landscape fitting for the gods themselves! 

The hospitable family invites me for tea on a chilly morning. This is heaven! Piping hot tea and a stunning view fit for a Nicholai Roerich painting.

The precariousness of life

As the luxury Volvo bus raced up the Himalayas, I could see the powerful Beas River flowing away to the plains of the Punjab. Ahead of me were snow-covered peaks and to my right, a small barricade separating the road from a 300-metre cliff over the Beas. The blue waters of the mighty river were flowing as fast as the bus driver was driving in the other direction.


I’d be lying if I didn’t say the breath-taking ride was also scary. One mistake by the driver, one mistake by another driver coming from the opposite direction, one wrong turn or one little accident of nature and we would have fallen into the Beas to meet a painful death.

When the bus finally did reach the town of Manali, I was both happy and relieved. Seeing the reflection of the early morning sunlight on the snowy mountains helped me realise one thing. There is no sight in this wonderful country as beautiful or as glorious as that of sunlight on the Himalayan mountains, with a clear blue sky in the background adding to the array of colours. I have seen the backwaters of Kerala, the beaches of Goa and the bejewelled cities of Rajasthan, but I have to say that stunning as they are, they pale in comparison to the mighty Himalayas.

Ho Gaye Teri Balle Balle

There’s a reason that India’s Olympic medal winning boxers and wrestlers are from Punjab or Haryana. The Jats and Sikhs are ‘large’ people. The ones who aren’t really muscular make up for it, with excess layers of body fat. So, here in Chandigarh, I don’t want to get into any kind of fight or wrestling match.


In fact, in a board outside the Sukhna Lake, one of the ‘don’t dos’ is not wrestle lakeside. Such is the need to show strength in these parts that wrestling is a very popular sport. May these people wrestle each other in the international arena and win many medals for India!

I got a glimpse of this fight-preparedness, while waiting for a bus to Manali. An argument breaks out between 2 strangers at around 10 pm and the men come to blows. To try and halt the proceedings, I yell “police, police!” That doesn’t stop this epic battle. We’re talking about Ali vs Frazier here. One of them bumps a woman and when she screams, a crowd swoops in shouting the Punjabi Oi, Oi! They break up the fight and peace is restored. That bus to Manali can’t come early enough.

An Indian city minus the chaos

If I had to describe Chandigarh in 6 words, the title of this blogpost would suffice. The city looks completely organised even from the aircraft. Le Corbusier decided to use brick-red as the dominant colour of the buildings and walls in the city. The fact that everything is so well-planned and organised makes the city absolutely empty.


As in most parts of India, the auto-drivers are a bunch of con-artists, but there is an excellent network of local buses that connects just about every sector in the city. I guess the buses are empty since Chandigarh is more or less a rich city and most families own 2 cars. There was a disproportional number of Mercs and BMWs in the city. There’s a lot of money now in the smaller towns and cities in India.

A visit to the Sukhna Lake area is enough to spot a glimpse of the well-heeled residents of the city. The fashion and brand-conscious citizens of Chandigarh also take their fitness seriously and they have a moderate climate to support a good fitness regime.

For someone coming from chaotic suburban Bombay, the broad streets and glorious tree-lined avenues, was something of a shocker. No matter how much you read about a place, it isn’t you see it with your own eyes that you understand what it’s all about.

I wouldn’t classify the capital of Punjab and Haryana as a particularly friendly city but there were some nice people I ended up having random conversations lakeside. I’d have to say that the Rock Garden is Chandigarh’s most unique attraction. A fine collection of sculptures made from rocks, recycled pipes, tubes, ceramics and other waste. The founder is a real genius!

Sitting up in the Interstate Bus Terminus in the city, I realise that I am really in North India. Buses go from here to Pathankot, Jammu, Maler Kotla and Gurdaspur. Now that is what I would call exotic.

Seeing how this example of a planned city works, I don’t understand why other cities weren’t built using the Chandigarh model? India is in desperate need of them.

Final thoughts on Vienna

The Austrian capital, to me, is a reflection of my wonderful hosts in the city: The journalistic duo of Gunter aus Graz and Anna aus Linz. Vienna is warm, friendly, efficient, non-judgemental, accommodating and always in search of self-development, much like its citizens. Expand the bicycle lanes, improve public transport, add more cultural events...

The Viennese know how to appreciate good weather, good wine, good coffee and even good Indian food!
My hosts, who embody these qualities, also have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge with a large collection of books that could easily be classified as a library in India.

I can only hope that newly planned cities in India can incorporate some of the ideas of a city like Vienna. We have a large number of these cities coming up between Bombay and Delhi and maybe the chief planner needs a Vienna trip to get some ideas  :)

Vielen Dank und Viele Grüße, Gunter und Anna. See you soon in Bombay.

Book Review: African Psycho (Serpent à Plumes) by Alain Mabanckou

I have often wondered what goes on in the minds of criminals and 'wannabe' criminals. No one, I believe, is born violent or with criminal instincts. Mabanckou addresses the working of a criminal mind in this hilarious monologue set in an unnamed African city, which I would believe is in Congo-Brazaville. The setting of the book is mainly in the 'He-Who-Drinks-Water-Is-An-Idiot' locality of the city, with a Seine of its  own.

The protagonist Gregoire tells the readers about his plan to kill his girlfriend Germaine. The lead up to the planned murder starts from Gregoire's rough upbringing in foster homes and the streets of the city. Gregoire condemns the great crime novelists, who have never commited a crime in their lives. He also doesn't spare the psychiatrists, who think they know how the mind of a criminal works.

At times vulgar and erotic, the book traces the mind of a frustrated and angry young man in post-colonial Francophone Africa. I've never been to a former French or Belgian colony in Africa, but what I hear is that the French and Belgians left behind a mess in all of them.

Mabanckou, who teaches Francophone literature at UCLA, was inspired by Brett Easton-Ellis' "American Psycho," but Gregoire has a completely African soul and one with an animal alter-ego. It's difficult to not laugh when Gregoire idolizes his great hero the Great Master Angoualima, who is described as the greatest criminal of all time.

The book was a result of great research and the author has indeed gone through some of the great classics in crime literature like 'The Outsider' by Albert Camus and Cesare Lombroso's L'Uomo Deliquente. It takes some thick skin to ignore some of the disgusting parts of the book, but 'African Psycho' is well worth the read.