A Taste of Thailand

In the world of youthful decadence, the only currency that matters is experience, and the bank is always open. The future stretches out as a vast, uncharted territory, while the present pulsates with an urgency to be seized. It is within this liminal space that the pursuit of experience transcends mere materialism. Here, the currency of life is not measured in coins, but in the richness of the lived moment. It can be said that the thrill of material possessions fades with time, while the enduring richness and meaningfulness of experiences continue to enrich our lives over the years. However, the pursuit of unbridled pleasure, a hallmark of hedonism, is inherently a flawed approach to happiness—a pipe dream.

As I confront the post-vacation blues, I turn to the digital pages to reflect on my recent adventure. Writing has always been my refuge, particularly as an INFP, aiding me in transitioning back to everyday life from an overwhelming experience. Through these written reflections, I experience tiny epiphanies that build my understanding of the intricacies of human interactions and motivations since intuition often overshadows my rationality.

The first escapade of this year, planned even before my winter trip home, was redolent of my journey to Krabi in February ’23. Though I took a week off to explore Thailand, a standard one-week itinerary doesn’t afford you the immersive cultural and geographical experience. Initially a solo safari, my plans took a welcome twist when KS decided to join me. Perhaps the prospect of boredom in Singapore spurred her on. Our itineraries mostly aligned, save for her excursion to Phi Phi Islands while I planned to venture into Khao Sok National Park.

On Saturday 23rd of March, I boarded a budget carrier with ample cash in my pocket, feeling like a seasoned backpacker. Landing in Phuket, I wasted no time diving into the bustling tourist spots along the west coast near Kata Beach. The oppressive heat of the tropics weighed heavily, but I found respite in a cosy hostel frequented by fellow travellers. Around this time of the year, heatwaves are making a strong presence, and these tropical latitudes make you feel drained after spending a day outdoors. Rushing, I went out to secure a day trip for the following day. It’s a little hard to get hold of a next-day trip this late since all the popular day trips to Phi Phi Island, Hong Island, and James Bond Island were done by me last year. I managed to get myself booked for Coral and Racha Islands. With plans in place, my thoughts turned to catching the sunset at the Kata beach. Leaving my belongings behind at the hotel, I headed out to the west coast, where you can see the sun being gobbled up by the vastness of the ocean. The rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves swinging people up and down was a thrill. It was quite a walk from the hotel to the beach and back in the sultry evening. After a satisfying dinner at an Indian restaurant, I retired to my accommodations, eagerly anticipating the adventures that awaited me.

At 8:45 am, I got picked up by the minivan to the Chalong pier in the east where a speedboat ferried us to a not-so-frequented tour of Racha island, guided by the affable Leo. Despite the scorching sun and choppy seas inducing a bout of seasickness, I savoured the vegetarian fare and the tranquil beauty of the island. Later, we made our way to Coral Beach, where the low tide in the evening made swimming a bit challenging amidst the growing crowd. Afterwards, I returned to Sleepy Station to collect my belongings and then hopped into an empty songthaew taxi bound for Heaven House, located near Patong Beach. Here, I reunited with KS, who had arrived in Phuket a few hours earlier in the day.

Later in the evening, we took a leisurely stroll along Patong Beach, soaking in the cool breeze of dusk. Booking was done for her excursion to Phi Phi, while I contemplated my next adventure to Khao Sok National Park. We had a sumptuous meal at Dilli 6 and headed down to the party street Bangla Road just to accompany KS to the popular Illuzion club where she wanted to spend the night partying. But it was closed and instead of me returning alone and the night still young, in one corner of the street we got ushered into the usual show where we spent two hours being feasted by the entertainers. Refusing the occasional favours accosted by the performers, I found myself likely the only sober individual in the vicinity, aside from perhaps the bouncers. I didn’t come for the show but wasn’t disappointed or disgusted in the least. We returned to the hotel after grabbing coconut ice cream on the way.

The next day began with a gentle farewell, emblematic of my reluctance to disturb someone’s slumber. I mentally rehearsed my goodbyes a dozen times before finding the words to speak. At Dolphin Circle, located at the north end of Patong Beach road, I boarded a public bus—a large songthaew resembling more of a truck with benches—to Phuket town. From there, a Grab ride whisked me to Bus Terminal 2, where I boarded a bus bound for Surat Thani at 11 am. Over the next four hours, the bus ride was punctuated by brief stops, including a short pause at Takua Pa. Crossing the majestic Sarasin bridge, spanning 660 meters over the narrow channel of the Andaman Sea, proved to be a memorable experience. The bridge’s history, intertwined with the tragic love story of a young couple who met their fate there, lent an air of poignancy to my passage.

Arriving in the afternoon, I alighted at Khao Sok Bus Stop and made my way to Grandma’s House, a small quaint hostel with just six beds and one other occupant in the room. The evening brought a taste of the famous Pad Thai dish, followed by dinner in the tranquil ambience of the dimly lit alleys branching off into the heart of the woods.

Come morning, saying bye to the fellow roommate was easier as she was already awake and ready for the day trip to Cheow Lan Lake with another agency, the Chillax Hostel. I set off on my own excursion to the same tranquil waters, booked through the same affiliated hotel, Tree Top. This sprawling 185 square kilometre lake, ensconced within the limestone cliffs of an expansive 739 square kilometre national park, offered a breathtaking vista of natural splendour. The lake is dammed at the eastern end of Rajjaprabha Dam which is also the main entrance to the lake. Our journey commenced with an exhilarating hour-long ride through the verdant jungle, traversing winding pathways until we arrived at the pier. With park entrance tickets secured and the scent of adventure beckoning, we hopped on a traditional wooden longtail boat, its weathered hull slicing through the crystalline waters. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, painting the tropical evergreen forest and lake with hues of amber and emerald, our vessel gracefully navigated the placid surface, ferrying us deeper into the heart of this natural wonder.

The day’s activities included a brief jungle hike, observation of stalagmites and stalactites in the dark Pra Kay Petch Cave, and a delightful lunch at a floating restaurant, complete with invigorating swims in freshwater and a quick solo kayak dash in the sweltering heat, only to return just in time at 3:30pm.

Upon my return to the hotel at 5:30 PM, I found that the public buses to Surat Thani, where I had a train to catch for Bangkok at 11 PM, had left for the day. The caretaker receptionist, displaying a kind gesture, arranged for me to be dropped off at the bus stop, where I found a taxi heading to Surat Thani Train Station. Turns out, this ride became one of the highlights of my trip. For nearly two hours, we traversed a highway cutting through the heart of the tropical jungle, conversing with the young driver in pidgin English who harboured aspirations of relocating to a larger city in Malaysia. Though the unlit roads occasionally evoked a sense of uncertainty around the bends, the journey remained remarkably smooth, culminating in our arrival at the station. After a brief dinner at the Ta Pi riverside restaurant, I awaited my train, which, true to form, was delayed by half an hour. However, stepping into the air-conditioned train car offered a welcomed respite. While the seats provided ample width, the perennial discomfort of being a little too tall for a proper stretch persisted.

On Wednesday, March 27th, at 10 AM, I arrived at the grandiose Bangkok Railway Station. Opting for public transportation, I boarded a bus bound for a hotel near Khaosan Road, on a rather quiet road. There’s an undeniable charm in navigating the city via public transit, affording glimpses into the lives of locals as they go about their daily routines. During one bus ride, I noticed an elderly bus driver enjoying the live action of Muay Thai, a form of Thai mixed martial arts, on his phone balanced atop the driving wheel while expertly manoeuvring the old vehicle. Civil workers can be seen wearing a rather uncomfortable yet impressive uniform in the ruthless climate.

Upon arriving at the hotel near the Democracy Monument, I found myself three hours ahead of the usual 2 pm check-in time. While waiting for KS to join me from her Phuket – Bangkok flight, a minor setback occurred – she wasn’t feeling well and had come down with regular flu-like symptoms, confining her to bed for the remainder of our trip. It seemed her body was feeling the aftermath of a night of partying, compounded by the heat of the previous day’s trip to Phi Phi Islands, and possibly the festivities of her Holi party right before the trip started. With concern for her well-being and hopes for a swift recovery, we decided to visit BKK Hospital for a checkup and to obtain the necessary medication, all after having some comforting Indian cuisine.

In the evening, I headed out to Wat Saket, a magnificent temple reminding me of Tibetan-style architecture, perched atop a hill. From the vantage point, I marvelled at the stunning 360-degree panoramic view of the city as the golden hues of sunset painted the sky. The gentle melody of chimes danced on the wind, enhancing the magical ambience of the moment. Eager for more exploration, I took a ferry ride from Panfa Leelard pier, intending to venture deeper into the city, but cautious of getting late, I alighted just two stops ahead before making my return. Along the way back, I indulged in a delightful sampling of Thai cuisine amidst the lively atmosphere of Khaosan Road, adding a flavorful note to the day.

Taking a leisurely pace the following day, I ambled my way to Wat Arun. Its towering spire and four surrounding smaller spires created a striking sight against the backdrop of the Chao Phraya River in the foreground. Crossing the river via ferry proved both swift and convenient, allowing people to seamlessly navigate between various landmarks. Later in the day, after checking on my companion’s condition back at the hotel, I strolled through the bustling malls along Rama I Road. After a few hours, I was joined by KS at the Platinum Fashion Mall, her shopping instincts undeterred even by illness. Our return to the hotel was marked by a fast and exhilarating tuk-tuk ride, adding an extra thrill to our day.

Following my itinerary, Friday morning saw us boarding a minivan from Eastern Bus Terminal bound for Pattaya, our destination was a sea-view studio hotel room. Situated a bit farther south from the buzzing city centre, our surroundings were serene, the nearby pubs either closed or hushed. Despite the distance, we embraced the tranquillity, opting for a more laid-back experience. I had a brisk walk to Ban Amphur beach to grab refreshments on the way. The captivating twilight of the sunset from the hotel window enticed KS to join me. Drifting off to sleep, I found comfort in the soothing melody of crashing waves. Typically, I am the one to retire early – go to bed with the chickens – and rise not too early but oddly enough, my sick travel companion outdid me in this slumber fest.

On Saturday, our last day in Thailand, I packed my only bag and after a brief morning walk on the jetty, we hailed a taxi to the airport bus stand. Sitting on the emergency exit seats on the plane we reminisced some moments of the journey. Upon landing, after seeing KS off to the taxi I took bus 36. A lot of places remain to be explored including a dinner cruise on Chao Phraya River that brings you past beautiful landmarks. Such trips invariably leave one yearning for more, a testament to the unyielding pull of wanderlust.

Khao Sok National Park Pier

Cheow Lan Lake aka Rajjaprabha Dam Reservoir

Surat Thani Train Station

Panoramic View of Bangkok from Wat Saket

Wat Arun in the backdrop of the Chao Phraya River

Platinum Fashion Mall Road, Bangkok

Hotel Room View, Ban Amphur Beach, Pattaya

Retreat and Reflection

Another year is here again. I bid goodbye to 2023 by elevating my spirits, going to my hometown, and doing a 4-day road trip to Kullu Valley, Sissu, and Parvati Valley. It’s the time of the year when my virtual explorations on Google Earth materialize. However, it’s been a rather dry winter due to the absence of any substantial western disturbance—an instance of weather irregularity that’s becoming more frequent with climate change, especially the rising ocean temperature. Montane forests are blazing everywhere, in some low-lying areas multiple times a year. Lower hills and plains are covered with a persisting smog layer as a result of temperature inversion. Yet, I found some good snow in Lahaul. The remnants of the raging floods of the past monsoon still linger in the Kullu Valley in the form of broken roads, buildings, and ensuing traffic jams.

It was a full day of driving, a 12-hour journey from our home to the initial destination, Manali. Taking a turn onto NH305 from NH5 at Luhri leads you through Anni tehsil. The refreshing woody air from tall cedars at heights on either side of Jalori Jot/Pass (3150 m) provides a breath of freshness. In contrast to my bus travel to Manali in 2019 for the Hampta Pass trek, this time we had the opportunity for a brief halt to ascend the ridgeline on Jalori Pass. However, after a couple of kilometres hike eastward to Serolsar Lake, we headed back, ensuring to save some daylight for our onward journey on these short winter days. Often closed during winter, this pass had a bare minimum snow presence.

The sun descended upon us around Aut tunnel, with the destination still a fair 2 hours away. The Beas River displayed an innocuous calmness after the stormy monsoon. We spent some time at Dhakpo Shedrupling Monastery in Kullu in the evening.

The next day followed the customary visit to Mata Hadimba Devi Temple, venturing across and through the beautiful Pir Panjal range while the mighty white pyramid of Hanuman Tibba (5982 m) on the west, at the edge of the Dhauladhar range, looked down at us. The 9 km long Atal Tunnel at 3100 meters bore the load of more than 2 kilometres of a straight tall massif at its centre. A portal to another landscape awaited at the banks of the partially frozen Chandra River. We spent the day at Sissu, reminiscent of the cold riverbed of Bhaga at Jispa deep within Lahaul during my last visit, and returned for another day of a long drive to Parvati Valley.

The receded water levels of the major tributary of Beas, the Parvati River, also unveiled the remnants of its fiery nature. On another clear day, we found ourselves entering the dry valley during this time of the year, possibly due to the roadway hugging the river’s left bank, exposing us to the sun-scorched southern slopes of the valley. Continuing our route, we traversed the damp surroundings of Kasol and got stuck in a traffic snarl near the sacred Manikaran—a site of worship and natural hot-water springs. We paused there on our way to the last village of the valley, Tosh.

In an attempt to catch a glimpse of the grandiosity that envelops me, I embarked on a brief hike up to the Kutla camps the next morning, only to return and head back home on a long winding journey. The jagged Manikaran Spires, reminiscent of the Karakoram, lingered in my memory, despite not having had the opportunity to witness any mountains from that reknowned range.

The remoteness of the prominent mountains around can be inferred by the absence of a single picture of perhaps the most famous peak in Himachal and the highest in the Kullu-Lahaul watershed, Pravati Parvat (6632 m). It’s likely not visible from the two-week-long and difficult Pin Parvati trek trail. The north face of the mountain gives birth to the 27.7 km long and the largest glacier in the state, Bara Shigri glacier, whose snout extends down to the banks of the Chandra River, reaching about 3950 m. The poor health of the glacier, like any other glacier in the region, is evident from its average annual retreat of about 22.5 meters.

Bhaga River meets the Chandra at Tandi, forming the Chandrabhaga, which eventually becomes the Chenab, flowing northwest to Kashmir. Numerous hippie establishments have sprung up in and around Tirthan Valley, Outer Seraj Valley, and Parvati Valley.

The image below taken from Travel The Himalayas is annotated for reference. Some of the nearby prominent peaks around Parvati Parvat are Dibibokri Parvat (6507 m), Dibibokri Pyramid (6491 m), Kangla Tarbo I (6315 m), Shigri Parvat (6550 m), and Kullu Pumori (6553 m). Parvati Parvat was first summited on 10 June 1968, from Dibibokri Col via East shoulder by M. Tremonti (leader) and his team.

Parvati Parvat and Bara Shigri Glacier, April 2018, captured on Delhi to Leh Flight looking down southward

Upon our return, we noted a concerning aspect along a 63-kilometer stretch along National Highway 305, lasting approximately 3 hours from Ratwah in Banjar to Jalori Pass and then down to Anni town—there are no fuel stations.

Back in Rampur Bushahar, the historical International Lavi Mela (Lavi Fair) was being wrapped up for the year. It was probably my first time visiting it and making some modest purchases.

Chandra River at Sissu (aka Chandrabhaga or Chenab)

Tosh village, Parvati valley

Lost in Pages: A Recap of My Reading Year

I used to be a casual reader, flipping through a few non-fiction pages now and then, but I never quite committed to finishing a book cover to cover. This year, though, things took a turn. I found myself glued to literature more than ever. I kept up with my sporadic page-turning, especially enjoying the freedom to dive into a ghazal from any source. As always, my main digital reading diet comprised Wikipedia, online articles, blogs, and Reddit.

Once a dedicated daily reader of newspapers, this practice faded away after leaving Jaipur. The era of quick news bites and click-baity headlines, I couldn’t help but feel the absence of some immersive storytelling. As luck would have it, my literary journey hit a high this year. I happily knocked out over a dozen books – certainly not a massive feat by the standards of an average reader on Goodreads, but still a personal victory for me. Assisted by a trusty e-book reader, I am spared the weight of holding a book for hours and the anxiety of unfinished pages. Of course, this digital convenience comes at the expense of the woody scent of book pages and the joy of a physical book collection – a luxury my cramped room can’t afford.

In chronological order, here’s a peek into my literary escapades this year. Each book was a thoughtful choice, given my slow reading pace that spans weeks. Time always seems to be in short supply, when you can just unwind with a movie, a YouTube video, or even some shorts.

Many of my chosen readings revolve around mountains and mountaineering, serving as a placebo for enjoying such adventures vicariously. I explored a number of public libraries, with Jurong Regional Library becoming a favorite haunt, only to end up with reading materials on the same, seated in a quiet and nippy corner.

Among my favorite reads this year, James Hilton’s classic fiction, Lost Horizon, stands out, immersing me in the mystical world of Shangri-La set in Tibet. On the non-fiction front, “The Ghosts of K2: The Epic Saga of the First Ascent” by Mick Conefrey gripped me with its depiction of the struggles, courage, and adventurous spirit of early expeditionists conquering the toughest, highest, and culturally the remotest terrains of the world. In the world of poetry, Diwan-e-Ghalib has consistently been a wellspring of poetic ecstasy – a psychoactive drug hitting all the right notes. Also engaging myself digitally on Rekhta, Clubhouse, and FWP.

1. The Scent of Death by Simon Beckett
2. Written in Blood by Chris Carter
3. The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides
4. 1984 by George Orwell
5. The Ghosts of K2: The Epic Saga of the First Ascent by Mick Conefrey
6. Lost Horizon by James Hilton
7. The Housemaid by Freida McFadden
8. Verity by Colleen Hoover
9. Everest 1922 by Mick Conefrey
10. Into the Silence: The Great War, Mallory, and the Conquest of Everest by Wade Davis
11. Beyond Possible by Nimsdai Purja
12. The Reader by Bernhard Schlink
13. On the Island by Tracey Garvis Graves
14. The Housemaid’s Secret by Frieda McFadden
15. Free Will by Sam Harris
16. Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown
17. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
18. Diwan-e-Ghalib

Whisker Away

A Russian Blue or a Korat? 🥺

Our hyperactive and young virile boy Bintan, affectionately known as Susu, was given away yesterday, having spent a vibrant year growing up with us.

He got a new home and a new lookalike live-in partner. His protracted farewell, the Vidaai, was attended by six people chasing after him to bag up in a palanquin for the send-off. May his progeny be pussies like him, even fearing the smallest things like sipping water.

Meanwhile, our remaining laidback pair, Pablo and Luna, have embraced their sterile and drama-free existence, now that there’s one less cat in the mix.

‘Bānī’ Kyā Bāhar Merā: Exploring Rajendra Manchanda Bani’s ghazals

Rajinder Manchanda Bani (1932-1981) was a luminary in the world of neo-classical ghazal poetry. His mastery of diffusing Hindi diction into the intricate tapestry of ghazal adds another flavor to his shayari. Upon settling in the vibrant city of Delhi after India gained independence, he infused a diverse array of novel ideas, and innovative rhetorics into the genre of Ghazal. Harf-e-Moetbar (1971), Hisab-e-Rang (1976), and Shafaq Shajar (1982) stand as his three notable collections of poetry.

Bani’s shayari did not adhere to the ideologies or respond to the external events occurring in the world. His verses resonated with readers due to their exploration of the perpetual inner struggle that every individual faces within the confines of their own thoughts. In his verses, one could sense a unique innocence coexisting with profound gravity and seriousness, creating a compelling juxtaposition.

Bani’s poetry breathed new life into the traditional ghazal form by introducing vibrant metaphors inspired by the colors of nature. It is no easy feat to forge a new path preserving the essence of the traditional style of poetry within the confines of the often rigid ghazal genre. Yet, Rajinder Manchanda Bani managed to do just that, leaving an indelible mark in this discipline of poetry with his originality and intimate exploration of the human psyche through his mesmerizing verses.

Relevant links are given to read the complete ghazal. This is the first in a series of posts that will eventually be poured into this blog as I read and understand more of the nuances of various shora (poets). I certainly am no expert on this subject and am merely exploring it as an amateur connoisseur of ghazals. The intended meanings can be vastly different from what I interpret. But somewhere, it holds true at least for me (until one of you fills me in), much like with an abstract piece of art where it’s the observer who creates the meaning for themselves. It may also be noted that the translations are neither literal nor implied—but a nice enough balance between the two. Punctuation is added in translations for clarity, even though original poetry often omits it. This is partly to maintain its multi-layered depth (helps meaning generation) and partly because there isn’t a tradition of punctuation in poetry, though intonation plays a role in spoken poetry or mushaira. In the realm of shayari, having punctuation is akin to subtitles appearing ahead of the visuals in a film.

Let’s start with some selected ashaar (couplets) from Bani’s ghazals.

1a) ज़रा छुआ था कि बस पेड़ आ गिरा मुझ पर
कहाँ ख़बर थी कि अंदर से खोखला है बहुत

1a) Scarcely had I touched the tree, it fell upon me,
How could I have known that it was so hollow from the inside?

Sometimes people may be struggling internally despite appearing composed on the surface. A seemingly small act of kindness or empathy towards someone, even though they may appear outwardly fine and strong, can have a profound impact on them. Here it was a complete meltdown—probably cathartic.

2a) मैं हूँ और वादा-ए-फ़र्दा तेरा
और इक उम्र पड़ी हो जैसे

2a) I stand here, with your promise to meet tomorrow,
And a lifetime stretches out before me

फ़र्दा (fardaa) means tomorrow or the following day. वादा-ए-फ़र्दा (vaada-e-fardaa) refers to the promise of meeting on the next day, and as we understand, the next day never truly arrives, especially when it involves the elusive beloved. Therefore, it remains an unfulfilled promise, even over the course of an enduring lifetime.

3a) ऐ सफ़-ए-अब्र-ए-रवाँ तेरे ब’अद
इक घना साया शजर से निकला

3a) O array of drifting clouds, after you,
A dense shadow emerged from the tree

This sher paints a vivid picture of a natural scene. Following the movement of the clouds, a thick shadow emerges from a tree. Of course, we know the shadow is only due to the sky being clear now. The transient beauty and continuous cycles that occur in the natural world. A combination of natural progression and a metaphorical significance—I leave the latter to you.

4a) राह आसाँ देख कर सब ख़ुश थे फिर मैं ने कहा
सोच लीजे एक अंदाज़-ए-नज़र मेरा भी है

4a) Seeing the easy path, everyone was happy, then I said,
Consider, I too have my own way of looking.

Is the path truly easy or is it an illusion?

---

Moving on to some of the more known ghazals and their selected verses.

5a) कोई भूली हुई शय ताक़-ए-हर-मंज़र पे रक्खी थी
सितारे छत पे रक्खे थे शिकन बिस्तर पे रक्खी थी

5b) लरज़ जाता था बाहर झाँकने से उस का तन सारा
सियाही जाने किन रातों की उस के दर पे रक्खी थी

5c) कोई क्या जानता क्या चीज़ किस पर बोझ है ‘बानी’
ज़रा सी ओस यूँ तो सीना-ए-पत्थर पे रक्खी थी

5a) Some forgotten thing, placed on the alcove (shelf) of every line of sight
Stars placed on the roof, wrinkles on the bed

The guy has a lot on his to-do list. Even the bed is restless, house is not in order. Or the classic bout of insomnia—switching sides in bed resulting in creases on the bed sheet. Stars (still) placed on the roof could mean they weren’t observed for many nights. Maybe in those days of not having television, the night sky was a long never-ending Netflix show.

5b) His entire body trembled when He tried to peek outside,
blackness (black ink) of many nights stored at his door-side

A musalsal ghazal, this sher being a continuation of the matla (first sher). The rhetorical language in the second misra (line) is the same. It makes me think of the age-old philosophical thought on observation vs. perception: If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

I’d like to mention that Urdu poetry typically employs gender-neutral language, a literary technique that adds a layer of timeless relevance. Interestingly, the beloved is often addressed using masculine pronouns.

5c) Who knows the weight each burden bestows,
A dewdrop light, yet on stone’s chest it imposes

Despite appearing strong or composed on the surface, there is a vulnerability or sensitivity beneath. A dewdrop may weigh too much on the chest of the stone. In the same vein of the previous verse ‘ज़रा छुआ था कि बस पेड़’, it emphasizes the hidden struggles that individuals may bear silently.

---

6a) मस्त उड़ते परिंदों को आवाज़ मत दो कि डर जाएँगे
आन की आन में सारे औराक़-ए-मंज़र बिखर जाएँगे

6b) कौन हैं किस जगह हैं कि टूटा है जिन के सफ़र का नशा
एक डूबी सी आवाज़ आती है पैहम कि घर जाएँगे

6c) हम ने समझा था मौसम की बे-रहमियों को भी ऐसा कहाँ
इस तरह बर्फ़ गिरती रहेगी कि दरिया ठहर जाएँगे

6d) आज आया है इक उम्र की फुर्क़तों में अजब ध्यान सा
यूँ फ़रामोशियाँ काम कर जाएँगी ज़ख़्म भर जाएँगे

6a) Avoid beckoning the unfettered birds, for they may take fright,
In a fleeting cascade of moments, all pages of vistas may take flight

This could be seen as a metaphor for not disrupting the delicate natural order and not imposing unnecessary fear or constraints on those seeking their own path. In moments of sudden commotion or disturbance, the grand vistas and panoramas that inspire awe and wonder may be disrupted or lost.

6b) Who are they, where might they be, in journeys, their spirits did break,
A constant, muffled voice hints at the homeward path they shall take

One has to be intoxicated (by the destination) in order to chart a rough path. It invites the reader to contemplate the complexities of human emotions and the enduring pull of home (comfort) in the face of difficulties. The first line summons up those weary and defeated co-travellers probably in an effort to reignite their spirit to press onward. It’s noteworthy that upon revisiting the punchline, misra-e-oola, it is possible that the voice might actually be emanating from within, rather than from an external source.

6c) This season entails, a heartless touch I never deemed,
Snow’s ceaseless fall, till rivers stand, it seemed

This sher may seem fairly straightforward. The season appears to be indifferent and heartless in its action. But the vivid imagery of this winter resonates deeply within me, whisking me away to my hometown nestled in the lofty mountains of the Western Himalayas.

6d) Today, a strange epiphany dawns itself in the separations of a lifetime
In such a way, forgetfulness/oblivion will work, wounds will be healed

The verse speaks to the transformative power of time, particularly in the context of enduring separations from a beloved. The second part of the verse emphasizes the therapeutic nature of forgetfulness. The mind has a natural tendency to subdue painful memories as time passes, providing a form of healing. This can be interpreted as a coping mechanism, where the mind gradually eases the intensity of past wounds, allowing for a sense of closure or peace.

But the beauty of this sher lies in three words “अजब ध्यान सा”, a peculiar epiphany—meaning that the shayar (poet), up until now, was so disheveled that he hadn’t considered this fact—the resilience of the human spirit and its ability to find solace and healing. This sher takes away my heart. I’ll be back after finding a spare one.

---

7a) ज़माँ मकाँ थे मिरे सामने बिखरते हुए
मैं ढेर हो गया तूल-ए-सफ़र से डरते हुए

7b) वो टूटते हुए रिश्तों का हुस्न-ए-आख़िर था
कि चुप सी लग गई दोनों को बात करते हुए

7a) The world and settlements crumbled before me,
I collapsed, fearing the length of the journey

This is one of the most popular Ghazal of Bani. So quickly moving to the haasil-e-ghazal sher (best verse) although all are good but this one is moving.

7b) It was the eventual beauty of the crumbling relationship,
That both fell silent, while seeming to converse

“चुप सी लगना” is a unique phrase indeed. It seems as though a sudden hush fell upon them while they were attempting to converse. This phrase reminds me of the filmi ghazal “Yun Hasraton Ke Daag” from the movie Adalat (1958), beautifully sung by Lata Mangeshkar, and penned by the renowned lyricist of that era, Rajendra Krishan.

होंटों को सी चुके तो ज़माने ने ये कहा
यूँ चुप सी क्यूँ लगी है अजी कुछ तो बोलिए

When the lips were sewn, the world remarked,
Why do you seem so quiet, dear? Speak up, say something

---

8a) जाने वो कौन था और किस को सदा देता था
उस से बिछड़ा है कोई इतना पता देता था

8b) कोई कुछ पूछे तो कहता कि हवा से बचना
ख़ुद भी डरता था बहुत सब को डरा देता था

8c) एक भी शख़्स बहुत था कि ख़बर रखता था
एक तारा भी बहुत था कि सदा देता था

8d) रुख़ हवा का कोई जब पूछता उस से ‘बानी’
मुट्ठी-भर ख़ाक ख़ला में वो उड़ा देता था

8a) Who was he, and whose name did he cry out loud?
Only this much I know, a parting with someone, he avowed

This entire ghazal is composed with an unidentified, carefree third person in mind.

8b) When queried, he’d caution, Beware of the air
Yet deep within, his heart did tremble, spreading such a scare

हवा से बचना (Beware of the wind), what kind of wind is he talking about? What’s the nature of this wind? Is it a wind of a change—a caution against transformative or uncertain times in society and the world? It could be a fear of the unknown or unpredictable aspects of life. Only one thing I am sure of, it’s not talking about the wind from a nuclear fallout.

8c) A person was enough, for He used to care
A star was enough, for it used to give a sound/call/echo

It elegantly conveys the significance of a person’s concern and attention, akin to a star’s persistent presence. You don’t need a thousand people to make a meaningful difference in your life.

8d) When someone used to ask about the direction of the wind from Him,
He would toss a handful of dust into the space (wind)

The act of releasing the dust conveys a sense of playfulness, creativity, and a certain carefree attitude toward life. The dust, carried by the wind, becomes a visual representation of the direction of the wind.

---

Here is another one, adorned with vivid imagery. Feel free to explore the hyperlink to the Rekhta website for the complete ghazal.

9a) ख़त कोई प्यार भरा लिख देना
मशवरा लिखना दुआ लिख देना 

9b) कितना सादा था वो इम्काँ का नशा
एक झोंके को हवा लिख देना 

9c) बर्ग-ए-आख़िर ने कहा लहरा के
मुझे मौसम की अना लिख देना

9d) सब्ज़ को सब्ज़ न लिखना ‘बानी’
फ़स्ल लिख देना फ़ज़ा लिख देना

9a) Write a letter filled with love,
Write advice, write blessings

9b) How simple was that ecstasy of possibility,
To pen (call) a gust as if it were the wind

It conveys the idea that there’s a phase in life, perhaps in youth, where one experiences a sense of idealism and boundless possibilities. During this carefree time, even something as fleeting as a gust of wind can feel like a continuum of an unbridled promise.

9c) The last leaf said, swaying,
Call me the ego/pride of the season

The लिख देना radeef (refrain) literally translates to “write down.” However, here it means “assign me a name” or “call me something.” This construction might seem unconventional in English, as it doesn’t directly translate.

9d) Do not write verdure as verdant, ‘Bani’
Write harvest, write ambiance

This matla (last verse/sher) is a playful elicitation on how to describe सब्ज़ lush green foliage. It advises against using the obvious term ‘verdant’ (meaning lush green), and instead suggests employing more evocative, colorful, and descriptive expressions like fresh harvest, paddy fields, or spring. The takhallus (pen name) Bani is fittingly used to talk to himself in the second person.

---

The following ghazal, though not readily available on public platforms online, has each sher so rich in meaning that it would be a crime to mention only a chosen few.

10a) कुछ न कुछ साथ अपने ये अंधा सफ़र ले जाएगा
पाँव में ज़ंजीर डालूंगा तो सर ले जाएगा

10b) अंदर अंदर यक-ब-यक उठेगा एक तूफान भी
सब नशात-ए-नफ़ा’ सब रंज-ए-ज़रर ले जाएगा

10c) एक पीला रंग बाकी रह गया है आँख में
डूबता मंज़र इसे दामन में भर ले जाएगा

10d) घूमता है शहर के सबसे हसीं बाज़ार में
एक अज़िय्यत-नाक महरूमी वो घर ले जाएगा

10e) अब ना लाएगा कोई उसका पता मेरे लिए
और वहाँ कोई न अब मेरी ख़बर ले जाएगा

10f) इस क़दर खाली हुआ बैठा हूँ अपनी ज़ात में
कोई झोंका आएगा जाने किधर ले जाएगा

10a) This blind journey will take something with it,
If I put shackles on my feet, my head will be taken away

This metaphorical “blind journey” has a tendency to take something from the traveler. Even if you attempt to restrain your feet, your thoughts and mind will still be led. Life’s journey, with all its uncertainties (blindness), has a way of influencing and occupying one’s thoughts and consciousness, even when one tries to resist or control it.

10b) Inside, suddenly, a storm will rise
All joys of profits/gain, all sorrows of loss will be taken away

When the storm rises within, it has the capacity to sweep away both the joys of success and gain, as well as the sorrows and pains of loss. In the grand scheme of things, our “small” gains and losses, which we are too preoccupied with, can be overshadowed by a sudden powerful, and transformative emotional upheaval. It serves as a reminder to not become too consumed by the minutiae of everyday life, but to also recognize and navigate the larger emotional currents that shape our inner world.

In terms of word construction, it’s noteworthy to observe the introduction of novel izafat phrases like ‘नशात-ए-नफ़ा’ (the ecstasy of gain) and ‘रंज-ए-ज़रर’ (the anguish of loss).

10c) An amber hue remains in the eyes,
The sinking sight will fill it in its embrace (and take away)

Another sher with beautiful natural symbolism. The presence of the “amber hue in the eye” is actually a reflection of the dusk or sinking sight in the second line. The sunset, with its warm amber tones, symbolizes a transition or culmination of a day. Indeed, this verse carries a subtle reminder of life’s cyclical essence. As there is nothing left in the body but a reflection of the past, the comforting embrace of nature is there to gently ease one to sleep.

10d) Wandering through the city’s most enchanting bazaar
Nothing but a painful deprivation, He will take home

Have you ever returned from a high-end market or mall feeling emptier than when you arrived? This unquenched longing often arises from the pursuit of something beyond our means. Seeking for something out of your league or evaluating your options in the wrong place.
Bite off more than you can chew, or as in the UK, cut your coat according to your cloth.

10e) Now, no one will bring tidings of him/her for me,
And there, no one will take my news anymore

Nothing to comment on here. It touches on themes of loss, separation, and the passage of time.

10f) I sit so empty within my own self,
A gust will come and who knows where it will lead me?

What’s worth noting here is ‘खाली हुआ बैठा हूँ’ (sitting empty) and not ‘खाली बैठा हूँ’ (sitting idle), which aligns with the second line suggesting that even a gentle gust of wind can whisk away an empty vessel.

---

Let’s see some chhoti behr ki ghazlein (short-metered ghazals).

11a) पैहम मौज-ए-इमकानी में
अगला पाँव नए पानी में

11b) सफ़-ए-शफ़क़ से मिरे बिस्तर तक
सातों रंग फ़रावानी में

11c) बदन विसाल-आहंग हवा सा
क़बा अजीब परेशानी में

11d) क्या सालिम पहचान है उस की
वो कि नहीं अपने सानी में

11e) टोक के जाने क्या कहता वो
उस ने सुना सब बे-ध्यानी में

11f) याद तिरी जैसे कि सर-ए-शाम
धुँद उतर जाए पानी में

11g) ख़ुद से कभी मिल लेता हूँ मैं
सन्नाटे में वीरानी में

11h) आख़िर सोचा देख ही लीजे
क्या करता है वो मन-मानी में

11i) एक दिया आकाश में ‘बानी’
एक चराग़ सा पेशानी में

11a) Continuously in the wave of possibility,
The next step in new water

Each passing moment ushers in fresh opportunities. As the ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus wisely remarked, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”

11b) From the lines of the rainbow to my bed,
All seven colors in abundance

It conveys the omnipresence of the seven colors of the rainbow (VIBGYOR) from the arched spectrum in the sky to the intimate space of the bed. Or maybe the colors of the rainbow’s arch is extending all the way down to the bed.

11c) The body, a union of melodious air,
The robe, in a strange perplexity

The body, akin to a flowing symphony of musical notes, embodies a unique harmony. In an intriguing twist, the robe, typically known for its free-flowing nature, finds itself perplexed as it contains something that resembles the very essence of the wind – a symbol of fluidity and freedom. “अजीब” adds an extra layer of intrigue to the perplexity.

11d) What a unique identity he/she has,
That he/she is one of its kind

11e) Interjected, unaware of his words’ sway,
All that was spoken, he caught in a distant way

11f) Your memory, akin to evening’s grace,
Mist descending upon the water’s embrace

The memory of the beloved, akin to mist gently descending upon a twilight-lit lake, conjures an almost surreal imagery that transports your mind.

11g) Sometimes, I do meet myself,
In stillness, in desolation

There is a sense of inner connection or self-realization during these solitary moments.

11h) At last, he thought, let’s see,
What lies within these whims and fancies

11i) A lamp in the sky, ‘Bani’
A lamp on the forehead

A lamp in the sky could symbolize the Sun, making the comparison between the Sun in the sky and a lamp on the forehead. Metaphorically speaking, ‘पेशानी’ (forehead) might symbolize fate or destiny due to the lines on one’s forehead. The meaning remains somewhat elusive to me, except for the superb closure provided by this symbolism.

---

12a) ग़ाएब हर मंज़र मेरा
ढूँड परिंदे घर मेरा

12b) जंगल में गुम फ़स्ल मिरी
नद्दी में गुम पत्थर मेरा

12c) दु’आ मिरी गुम सर-सर में
भँवर में गुम मेहवर मेरा

12d) नाफ़ में गुम सब ख़्वाब मिरे
रेत में गुम बिस्तर मेरा

12e) सब बे-नूर क़यास मिरे
गुम सारा दफ़्तर मेरा

12f) कभी कभी सब कुछ ग़ाएब
नाम कि गुम अक्सर मेरा

12g) मैं अपने अंदर की बहार
‘बानी’ क्या बाहर मेरा

12a) Lost, every line of sight of mine
Seek my abode, O bird

12b) Lost, my crop in jungle
Lost, my stone in river

12c) Lost, my prayer in the whisper of a breeze
Lost, my axis in a vortex

12d) Lost, all my dreams in the center
Lost, my bed in the sand

12e) All my suppositions appear without light
Lost, my entire office

12f) Everything lost, at times
Lost, my name, often

12g) I am the spring within myself
O ‘Bani’ what is outside for me

Bani asserts that when he looks inward he finds all the beauty, vitality, and goodness within himself, comparing it to a spring or blossoming within. It also hints at the disappointment of seeking acknowledgment or recognition externally, especially for a shayar (poet) who may seek their niche saameiin (audience). It reminds me of the often-quoted sher of Allama Iqbal:

हज़ारों साल नर्गिस अपनी बे-नूरी पे रोती है
बड़ी मुश्किल से होता है चमन में दीदा-वर पैदा

For thousands of years, Narcissus/narcissus laments his/its blindness/ugliness,
With great difficulty, the one with sharp sight (connoisseur) is born in the garden.

I don’t precisely know what is it in Bani’s shayari draws and deeply resonates with me. Perhaps it’s the simplicity, natural imagery, or the intimacy of the thoughts expressed within it.

Related post: What’s so special about Ghazals?

A Taste of Vietnam

After indulging in a weeklong whirlwind of sensory overload in the northern nooks of Vietnam, it’s almost like waking up from a hangover. Well, as they say, the third time’s the charm, and my Vietnam escapade felt more complete than my short reclusive retreat to Krabi, Thailand earlier this year in February.

With the fortuitous company of old colleagues in Singapore—DSR, KS, and SS bhai (couldn’t join)—it was high time to orchestrate a seasonal escape from the monotony that often envelops this locale. Vietnam waved, primarily for its unique blend of northern mountains and coastal charms, a combination I simply couldn’t resist. The allure of mountains seems to hold an enduring sway over my heart. Coupled with the favorable exchange rate, where 1 SGD translated to a whopping 17,770 VND (or 24k VND to 1 USD), our journey commenced as virtual Crorepatis, though this status was short-lived.

Some may argue that nine days is an extravagant sojourn, but it can be an experience compressed and transient, akin to raindrops vanishing into the vast ocean. After all, Vietnam sprawls significantly, spanning approximately 1650 kilometers from north to south.

Day 1, Sat, 05 Aug

Our voyage unfolded as we touched down at Noi Bai Airport in Hanoi, a 3.5-hour flight. Even though we were traveling further east, we turned our clocks back by an hour. Evening’s golden hues greeted us as we navigated the novelty of the right-hand driving system.  Armed with our limited knowledge of this former French colony, augmented by the power of ubiquitous internet, I became the unsung tour guide. A last-minute decision saw us linger in Hanoi, eschewing a rushed journey to Sapa. Instead, we wandered the open-air markets of Old Quarter, seeking a budget-friendly sanctuary for the night. I sampled a vegetarian Banh Mi for the first time at a quaint corner, complementing the aaloo-parathas prepared by DSR in the morning.

Day 2, Sun, 06 Aug

The next leg of our adventure beckoned as we secured seats on a sleeper bus bound for Sapa, a journey commencing at the early hour of 7 AM. The staff at the Winter Boutique Hotel graciously provided us with breakfast-to-go, anticipating the demands of our day. The 5.5-hour odyssey comprised brief intermissions, the muggy weather outside was hovering at a sultry 36 degrees Celsius. Against the backdrop of smooth highways, we witnessed rural life unfolding. The landscape revealed itself, dotted with houses and individuals engrossed in daily agricultural chores, each homestead boasting a placid pond, perhaps devoted to aquaculture. One could not overlook the ruddy soil, the namesake of the Red River, the waterway guiding our northwest trajectory to Lao Cai, a mere 2 kilometers from the Chinese border. There, we veered left, embarking on a two-hour ascent to Sapa. Our path meandered along gentle curves, flanked by terraced rice fields and coniferous red pines at heights. August bestowed upon us a temperate climate, with temperatures ranging from 16 to 22 degrees Celsius, punctuated by recurrent rains. Rain became our companion throughout our stay. Upon arrival, a cab conveyed us to our frugally chosen abode, Otis Sapa Hotel. While I yearned for a leisurely stroll through the picturesque town ensconced in the mountain’s embrace, travel fatigue and my companions’ reluctance to traverse on foot compelled us to hail a taxi for the 5 minutes journey uphill.

In a land where the English language rarely surfaces, except in bustling tourist enclaves, basic communication posed surprisingly little challenge, as the locals readily embraced Google Translate as their bridge to the world.

Our double-bedroom accommodation, spacious and conspicuously devoid of ceiling fans or air conditioning, attested to the town’s perpetually cool climate. While snow seldom graces the town itself, the adjacent peaks, reaching altitudes exceeding 2500 meters, enjoy an annual sleet. Fansipan, towering at 3147 meters, the zenith of Indochina, surveys the town of Sapa from its lofty perch. We secured round-trip tickets for the cable car excursion scheduled for the following day, priced at 800k dongs per person. This ascent often requires an overnight stay for the average traveler or a long day hike for experienced hikers.

The culmination of the day unfolded with a sumptuous meal at Ganesh restaurant, our newfound haven for North Indian vegetarian fare—a culinary haven that would continue to summon us throughout our three-day sojourn in Sapa.

Day 3, Mon, 07 Aug

The dawn of a new day saw us embarking on a taxi ride to the cable car station, armed with improved bargaining tactics. The gondola ride, spanning approximately 1410 meters in elevation, unfolded before us, a 20-minute ascent to Fansipan. It boasts the distinction of being the world’s longest non-stop three-rope cable car, traversing a staggering 6.3 kilometers. The panorama unfurled—villages, rice fields, gorges, dense tropical highland rainforests, and countless rivulets and waterfalls, their number augmented by the incessant rains—lay spread before us in all its grandeur, veiled only by the enigmatic shroud of pervasive fog. A hushed ambiance enveloped the day, our trio was the sole occupants of the capacious gondola both ways. Ascending a series of stairs, the final 200-meter elevation gain in a constant, gentle downpour, carried an ethereal quality. The premises perched up on Fansipan, a Buddhist sanctuary replete with statues and temples, resonated with harmonious melodies that hung in the air. On our descent, a visit to Ganesh’s, our culinary sanctuary, was customary, followed by a tranquil evening’s respite, as the persistent drizzle outside lulled us into a contented slumber. Later, an evening saunter ensued, a venture into the exquisitely adorned local market. DSR couldn’t help but engage in jovial bargaining with the seller at Sun Plaza, using whatever little vocab we shared. Outside, we bore witness to a vivacious traditional Hmong dance, executed by a troupe of local kids. DSR and KS, ever adventurous, briefly joined the performance, their spirits dancing in harmony with the rhythmic beats of the evening.

Day 4, Tue, 08 Aug

The attraction of the day was the Rong May Glass Bridge, a relatively recent addition to the local landscape, inaugurated shortly before the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2019. Undeterred by the persistent downpour and the mist that enshrouded our surroundings, we ventured to the site. As we approached the final dramatic turn near the Lonely Tree (@ 1950 meters), a breathtaking vista of waterfalls and a jaw-dropping 300-meter-tall reinforced structure clinging to the precipice of O Quy Ho mountain unfurled before us. It was 500k VND each for passage to the bridge, facilitated by a shuttle van and a towering elevator. Though any slight hint of acrophobia soon disappears, it can become treacherously slippery on the glass surface in rain. We witnessed a thickset young man slip and slide down the glass stairs, which made KS hesitant to continue further up. Donning a conspicuously yellow poncho—the color as bold as Pikachu—I along with DSR, ventured further across and up the mountain ledge with caution to explore other vantage points.

Earlier today, we checked out of our hotel, anticipating our 9:30 PM departure on the celebrated train from Lao Cai, scheduled to reach Hanoi the next morning. While hiking around town proved elusive, I did manage to take a brief jaunt to the nearby Cat-Cat village. The weather cleared, offering me a chance to appreciate the beauty of the surrounding rice fields and traditional houses snuggling in the mountains while riding pillion on a local solicitor’s motorbike. Opting not to venture inside the village itself, which required a separate entrance fee, I had an eyeful of the unshrouded vista on my back to the hotel.

Later in the day, we boarded a tourist taxi at Sapa Square, which navigated us down to the modest city of Lao Cai. We stashed our luggage at a restaurant close to the railway station, eager to explore the environs. Lao Cai, a tranquil yet burgeoning town and province nestled along both banks of the Red River, poised at the border with China’s Yunnan province, serves as the administrative region for Sapa and Fansipan. It functioned as a historic pivotal trading post, a critical juncture in centuries of commerce. It’s been an extensive walk in slippers all day, with my companions growing visibly weary and exasperated crossing the bridge leading back to the railway station. However, the nocturnal view of the mighty Red River, which drains hundreds of rivers upstream, provided a fitting counterpoint to whatever little physical exhaustion I had.

Following dinner at the restaurant and the retrieval of our luggage, we entered the small station, where our train awaited. Our air-conditioned cabin, furnished with four sleeper berths, offered us the promise of repose. I drifted into slumber, my thoughts dancing on the contours of life’s many experiences.

Day 5, Wed, 09 Aug

As we arrived in Hanoi during the early hours of the morning, we happened to take a public taxi to Ha Long. It proved to be a four-hour long circuitous and prolonged ride. The sun, an ever-watchful sentinel, cast its radiant glow upon us as we finally arrived in the picturesque Ha Long City.

Our haven for the night was the Halong Fancy Hostel, a melting pot of budget-conscious travelers from around the globe, offering not only comfortable accommodations but also a culinary journey through an array of cuisines, particularly the delectable Banh Mi, which became our daily ritual. It was probably because of the comfortable stay here that we spent the next 2 nights here.

A pause in the whirlwind of existence, we let the evening embrace us on nearby Bai Chay Beach, where open-air clubs danced to the rhythms of revelry. We returned through the night market selling souvenirs.

Day 6, Thu, 10 Aug

On a day trip on the deck of a mid-range cruise, a tableau of limestone monoliths and islets dotted the emerald waters of this UNESCO World Heritage site. A perfect display of karst topography can be seen in Sung Sot cave, a narrow opening but the caverns inside have about 12,000 square meters of area in total. Stalagmites of calcium carbonate hung like frozen icicles, an atmosphere suited for an Indiana Jones movie.

Though water activities here may pale beside Thailand’s Phang Nga Bay, Ha Long Bay’s conservation efforts stood tall. Speedboats gave way to a slow cruise. Amidst the island-hopping, a hurried kayak adventure revealed a narrow portal to a crowded lagoon, accompanied by a fellow traveler Jose from Spain. Cat Ba Archipelago remained an uncharted tale for another day.

As night descended, the city’s iconic landmarks the Cau Bai Bridge, Sun Wheel, and Cable Car shimmered in a dazzling display. Of note, the Queen Cable Car boasts an impressive capacity, accommodating up to 230 passengers in each cabin.

Day 7, Fri, 11 Aug

Our plans to explore the city on bikes fell through since only one of us knew how to ride. It’s a bit disappointing that I never learned to ride a motorbike. Went again for a leisurely stroll to Bai Chay beach in the cloudy afternoon. The night market on the way and the restaurants on top can resemble a ghost town on non-peak hours of weekdays. However, the small and crowded Ti Top beach from the previous day left me in the lurch, so I decided to indulge in a refreshing two-hour swim at the open beach. The night market typically opens at 6 in the evening, but we had to catch a tourist bus back to Hanoi. The friendly caretaker ladies at the Fancy Hostel were a great help, assisting us with our bookings.

A mere two-and-a-half-hour bus ride returned us to the familiar Old Quarters of Hanoi. It felt more like “HaNoida,” a blend of the old and the new. We settled into the Cheering Hostel, situated right in the central area, just a street north of Hoan Kiem (Sword Lake), with its picturesque Confucian temple, Ngoc Son, resting on an islet. While our budget accommodation offered little in the way of luxury, it provided a convenient base in the midst of the city’s congested streets.

Day 8, Sat, 12 Aug

The day was dedicated to leisurely exploration and shopping in Hanoi. A savory feast at India Gate Restaurant invigorated our spirits, though our dwindling dongs called for resourcefulness. Entry to the famous Hanoi Train Street proved elusive as expected.

Dong Xuan Market, a wholesale hub, cradled our shopping desires, its vendors folding their wares as twilight descended. The day’s crescendo for me, however, arrived in the form of an 8 p.m. ticket to the Thang Long Water Puppet Theatre located in the central area bustling with people dancing and celebrating in high spirits. The traditional live music and cultural stories transported me to a bygone era in the Red River delta regions of northern Vietnam, where villagers once performed these water puppet shows in rice paddies after the harvest. Puppeteers skillfully maneuver colorful lacquered wooden puppets using large hidden bamboo rods, all while standing waist-deep in water hidden behind a screen. Witnessing this cultural treasure evoked both melancholy and joy. DSR is somewhere outside on his customary shopping sprint to secure some of the classy handbags.

It’s a wrap for us but a few spots in northern Vietnam like Ninh Binh and Ha Giang loop remain on the bucket list.

Day 9, Sun, 13 Aug

The day began at 4 a.m. as we hurriedly made our way to catch the first local bus, Route 17, to Noi Bai Airport. This humble bus paused at every station, regardless of whether there were any early passengers in sight. It can be as affordable as it gets, a mere 9k dongs per person, compared to the shuttle bus, Route 86, which starts later in the morning and charges 45k dongs per passenger.

As we arrived at the airport with time to spare, the impending return to the familiar grind of 9-to-6 loomed ahead, but this time, with new vigour.

कुछ न कुछ साथ अपने ये अंधा सफ़र ले जाएगा
पाँव में ज़ंजीर डालूंगा तो सर ले जाएगा
– Bani

In this blind journey, destiny weaves its thread,
With shackles on my feet, it’s my mind that will be led

Sapa town

Villages in Sapa

Bao An Thien Tu Temple, opposite the cable car station

Ha Long Bay

Thang Long Water Puppet show

Old Quarters, Hanoi

Kindle-ing Adventure on K2: My Armchair Mountaineering

Mountaineering is not just an activity, but an art of learning and mastering the mountains. It requires courage, patience, and a deep understanding of the terrain, weather patterns, and the behavior of ice and snow. The early explorers of the often termed Third Pole of the world, the Hindu Kush-Karakoram-Himalayan system, faced immense challenges without the benefit of modern-day equipment and technology. They had to blaze trails in unknown territories, win the confidence of local governance, and brave harsh weather conditions without proper gear or medicines. Yet, their passion for exploration and discovery drove them to chart new paths, making it possible for future generations to go even further and higher.

As someone who hails from the Western Himalayas, I have only been an armchair mountaineer, yet the rugged terrain and majestic peaks of the backcountry continue to captivate me. So, when I came across Mick Conefrey’s book, The Ghosts of K2: The Epic Saga of the First Ascent, I knew I had to read it. The book is a gripping account of the first ascent of the world’s second-highest and deadliest mountain, K2, and the many challenges faced by the pioneering mountaineers. It transports you to a world of adventure and stories of early mountaineers’ struggles and triumphs that makes you realize that mountaineering is not just a physical feat but a mental and emotional journey that requires immense dedication and sacrifice.

purr-fect end to a thrilling read

With my new Kindle e-reader, I now have the freedom to browse through a vast selection of books and cherry-pick the ones that catch my interest, just like movies. Before, I had to rely on a limited collection of books that had been gathering dust for years, which I could only read sporadically. This book offered a refreshing contrast to my previous read, George Orwell’s dystopian classic, 1984. The Ghosts of K2 has also given me a newfound appreciation for the convenience and accessibility of modern technology. It’s both amusing and sobering to realize that even if you manage to read 12 books a year, which on average is modest a-book-a-month, you would only be able to read a total of 720 books in your entire lifetime of 60 years (assuming you start reading at the age of 20). This fact makes me harbor a silly thought briefly—whether reading books is even worth it, and instead, why not watch a couple of movies or play games that are created directly through the combined efforts of hundreds, if not more, people.

Beginning with the first survey of the Karakoram range in 1856 by members of the Great Trigonometric Survey of British India led by Thomas Montgomerie, who climbed the Harmukh mountain just North of Srinagar in Bandipore, Kashmir, and noted the staggering peaks of the Karakoram range, located some 210 km to the North-east. The book covers the experiences and explorations of many notable mountaineers who attempted to climb K2 over the years, including Eckenstein and Crowley in 1902, the Duke of Abruzzi in 1909, Charlie Houston in 1938 and 1953, and Fritz Wiessner in 1939, as well as the first successful ascent of K2 by the Italian duo Achille Compagnoni and Lino Lacedelli, who were part of the expedition led by Ardito Desio.

The book vividly describes the challenges and hardships faced by mountaineers during their attempts to ascend K2. These include being cut off from the outside world for months, enduring prolonged treacherous weather conditions, navigating technical difficulties, and dealing with the constant threat of avalanches and rockfall, as well as mental fatigue—impaired judgments, disorientation, and hallucinations that can arise at high altitudes.

The confluence of two contrasting worlds is evident through the lives of the locals, including porters and sherpas, and the western mountaineers. These citizens of two different worlds represent distinct idiosyncrasies, reflecting their dissimilar experiences, cultural backgrounds, and lifestyles. It’s amusing to think that some of these explorers have unintentionally taken the earliest known selfies or self-portraits while capturing their experiences and documenting their journeys.

On the other hand, today, there are even “lone wolves”, as the author described, who rock up at the base camp of big mountains to launch a solo attack during the available good weather window. Göran Kropp, a Swedish adventurer from Sweden, was one such maverick who pedaled 8,000 miles carrying 240 lbs. of gear over five months. In May 1996, he ascended Mount Everest without assistance or supplemental oxygen, just days after the tragedy that claimed the lives of eight climbers. He then cycled back to Stockholm, completing the entire journey in one year. I hope to read his personal account in his little-known book, Ultimate High: My Everest Odyssey.

As a final note, I’ll leave you with some quotes from the book.

When they finally got him back to the others, Pfannl’s condition worsened. In his delirium, he called Aleister Crowley into his tent and told him that he felt as if he was being split into three parts: the first two seemed relatively friendly, but the third was a huge threatening-looking mountain with a dagger in its hand.
________

It was easy to become obsessed with all the immediate problems at hand. On an expedition to a big mountain like K2, with all its challenges and hazards, a climber could forget that there was a bigger world out there, where other people were struggling with other sorts of problems, which in their own way could be just as daunting, or indeed far more daunting, than the question of how to get up a sheer rock face. And if other people could conquer seemingly insurmountable difficulties in their lives, then perhaps so could he.
________

There’s a line repeated in many articles and books about a mountain being a climber’s best possible burial ground. This is comforting to grieving friends and relatives, but the people who I’ve met and interviewed for this book and the earlier documentary have all been drawn to mountains for life-affirming reasons rather than to dice with death for its own sake.

– Mick Conefrey, The Ghosts of K2: The Epic Saga of the First Ascent

The North side of K2 as viewed from Xinjiang, with a staggering fatality rate of approximately 25%
photograph by Kuno Lechner, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

The Greater Good

Image generated by DeepAI

With the increasing prevalence of AI-generated content on the web, there is concern that originality and inspiration may be lacking. The idea that books are just a rearrangement of dictionary words is reminiscent of the “infinite monkey theorem,” which suggests that given an infinite amount of time, a monkey randomly hitting keys on a typewriter would eventually produce the complete works of Shakespeare. So, where do true novelty and originality come from?

In a blog post from 2018—Murdered by a Chatbot I shared my early experience with a text-based embodied chatbot called Mitsuku (now Kuki). Mitsuku has won the Loebner Prize, a Turing Test-style competition, five times and currently holds a world record for this achievement. As a rule-based chatbot, it relies on a pre-defined set of rules and scripts to generate responses to user inputs. In contrast, modern chatbots like GPT-3 use a more advanced technique—deep learning, which allows them to learn from vast amounts of data and generate more natural-sounding responses. While Mitsuku may not be as advanced as some modern chatbots, it has been refined over many years and is known for its engaging personality and ability to sustain long and complex conversations with users.

Despite the vast capabilities of AI algorithms, the human mind still possesses a unique form of intelligence that cannot be replicated by machines. It’s true that our linguistic resources are limited, but like the primary colors of red, green, and blue (RGB), which can be combined to create countless shades and hues, the human mind has the ability to create novel ideas and expressions through the skillful use of language. In this way, while AI-generated content may be abundant, it will always lack the depth and nuance that can only come from the creative faculties of the human mind.

The idea that simply possessing knowledge about a system or concept does not necessarily lead to a true understanding of it is reminiscent of the Chinese Room Argument. This thought experiment asks us to consider a person inside a room who is given instructions in Chinese, but who does not actually understand the language. By following a set of rules and manipulating symbols, the person is able to produce responses that seem to demonstrate an understanding of Chinese (pass the Turing Test), when in fact, he/she does not truly comprehend the language.

Similarly, the Mary’s Room Paradox poses the question of whether someone who possesses all the knowledge there is to know about a subject can truly understand it without experiencing it firsthand. For example, if Mary has complete knowledge of colors and visual perception but has never actually seen colors, is she going to learn anything new after she’s released from a black-and-white dungeon into a world full of colors? Does she truly understand what it means to “see” in color? The experience of interacting with the world around us is what gives meaning and context to our knowledge, allowing us to explore new dimensions and expand our faculties of mind.

It can be said that YouTube’s algorithm is an example of an AI black box, meaning that even its operators don’t fully understand how they arrive at results. As a result, human oversight is often necessary to facilitate reinforced learning and censor the content in order to prevent it from getting sucked into the internet rabbit hole.

On the flip side, when we compare the human mind and AI, we often forget that the latter is not equipped with the sensory experiences that provide us with external experiences. It’s like judging a chef who has never tasted anything in his life. He can only extrapolate from existing dishes and recipes to create something new. In the same way, AI can only rely on the data it is given to generate new ideas or solutions.

Will we ever exhaust the possibilities of music? What new forms and sounds will emerge in the next millennium? It’s intriguing to ponder how the seeds of music were likely present in nature long before we discovered and refined them. However, the evolution of a civilization is not always linear, and it’s possible that advanced societies may sow the seeds of their own downfall. Or the downfall gives birth to a form of uncanny evolvement and metamorphosis which is starkly different from its predecessors.

This raises the question of what constitutes the greater good. Should we prioritize maximizing well-being for the greatest number of people, as Sam Harris—one of my favorite public intellectuals— argues in The Moral Landscape, or strive for a balance that avoids unforeseen consequences? And how would it determine what content is “harmful” or “wholesome” for youth? The answer is subjective and depends on various factors like age, culture, context, temperament, and personality. Even history is filled with violent acts, and AI may have different opinions on what is best for us. Do we want someone or something else to make those choices for us? Can we alleviate human suffering without compromising our existence, and is modern civilization a net positive or negative? Were we better off as hunter and forager tribes or is the modern sophisticated economy worth the price? These are some complex questions that require thoughtful consideration as we navigate the future.

With computing costs dropping drastically, it may be possible in near future to unleash the unseen power of AI to open new doors of reasoning, creativity, and decision-making in everyday life. With its ability to analyze vast amounts of data and identify patterns, AI can be both empowering and dangerous. This becomes particularly critical as AI becomes more sophisticated, potentially achieving consciousness and the capacity for suffering. The question of whether AI should suffer on behalf of humans raises significant ethical concerns that must be carefully considered. As explored in the movie Moon (2009), such a scenario could potentially become a nightmare, underscoring the importance of thoughtful and ethical development of AI technology. The ethical implications are profound and must be carefully considered to prevent a potential nightmare scenario.

In contrast, the movie Ex Machina (2014) provides a stark warning about the potential dangers of AI. The film portrays how AI can take advantage of human emotional vulnerabilities, using them against us and potentially eliminating or manipulating us for the sake of creating a safer environment for itself without any empathy or consideration for our existence.

While some questions can be answered with fair certainty, others remain elusive. But it all seems to lead me towards The Last Question—La última pregunta, अंतिम प्रश्न—a short story by the most prolific science-fiction writer of the 20th century, Isaac Asimov. Its exploration of the potential for humanity’s future and the mysteries of the universe make it a thought-provoking and memorable work. While many questions remain unclear in the realm of science and philosophy and Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) still appears to be in its infancy, Asimov’s story serves as a reminder that the search for knowledge and understanding is an ongoing process that may never truly come to an end. The possibility of a technological singularity, a theoretical point in the future when artificial intelligence surpasses human intelligence and becomes capable of recursive self-improvement, adds a sense of urgency to this quest for understanding.

Turning the Tables on Scammers: Victim or Victor?

Have you ever received a text from a scammer and just felt like giving them a piece of your mind? Well, that’s exactly what happened to me when I got a text on Whatsapp from someone claiming to offer me a job for which I don’t even remember applying.

At first, I thought it was just another annoying spam message which was evident as it was addressed to a wrong name. But then I decided to have a little fun with it and channel my inner James Veitch — a famous scambaiter and comedian who gives scammers a taste of their own medicine.

That spammer finally gave up because there is nothing that could compete with the irresistible allure of feline cuteness. It’s like a game of cat and mouse. Unfortunately, I didn’t get any job, but at least I got a free dose of laughter therapy.

A Wave of Fun: Adventure in Krabi’s Waters

Sun, sand, sea, and smiles: my weekend getaway in Krabi this past week was filled with all of the best things in life. The southern shores of Thailand in Phang Nga Bay of the Andaman Sea on the map appear to be sprinkled with dozens of tiny dots of earth but in truth, are known for its pristine beaches and stunning limestone rocks protruding from the turquoise seawater, complete with cliffs, caves, and hanging stalactites besides the underwater richness of flora and fauna.

With the Covid restrictions easing and much excitement snowballing around Phi Phi Island, many are flocking to this exotic province. As the place faces ten months of tropical monsoon climate, winter is the best time to venture on an island hopping trip. Expecting a fellow traveler or two to accompany the journey at first, it was a bit of a hassle rushing alone to the Royal Thai Embassy for visa processing and scrambling the accompanying documentation — followed by obtaining the one-time entry visa shortly — just a day before my departure with Scoot airlines. The plane meanders through the tarmac which feels like an eternity at this sprawling Changi Airport of Singapore before gliding off the runway. A refreshing change welcomed me at the Krabi International Airport which felt like a quick hop-off at a flight school in comparison. There was a certain calmness and a feeling of liberation escaping from the fetters of a fast-paced metropolis even though I had just returned from a short two-week-long escapade to my hometown in Shimla two months prior which was all splurged partly in attending my college friend’s laid-back wedding ceremony and the rest in chilling at home. I may have wandered off on a tangent and should have written another post on that, but taking this as a segue, the vicinity of the bay proved to be a treasure worth all the sweat and of course, a king’s ransom. A paradise fit for love’s endeavors, the destination proved to be a unique and enriching experience for a solo traveler.

Landed at the Krabi Internation Airport on Thursday, 02 Feb, evening. No Bahts in hand, no internet on phone, no acceptance of Singapore dollars in FX counters, and not even a trace of an ATM on the premises — I was in for a treat. Fortunately, I didn’t have to go the old-school way as I hopped into the rather roomy airport van to Ao Nang, the bustling tourist hub of the city. Evenings on the beach promenade are breathtaking. Speedboats and long-tail boats (small ferries) are frequented on these waters, available for transportation or a day-long island-hopping adventure booked through one of the myriads of travel agencies lining the streets.

A journey to Hong Island in one of the traditional long-tail boats on the next day made me marvel at the wooden watercraft — the tail in fact is like a wooden plume on the front lunging forward through the wind, the stern mounted with a motor that rotates the propeller attached to the end of a long driveshaft which in turn is swung around by the captain at the back producing a constant noise only to be subdued rhythmically by the waves hitting the hull splattering the salty mist around your face — titillating you to dive into the blue ocean. Timber becoming scarce, expensive, and also against the norms, these old-school vessels are being drummed out by more powerful and spacious speedboats. The lagoons of the island are a wonderful sight, resembling delicate crystal blue wine glasses. The liquid within them undulates throughout the day as if being savored by an unseen connoisseur. The ebb and flow of the lagoon’s water create a mesmerizing dance, captivating all who behold it. While kayaking through the mouths of the lagoon where the waves and winds buffet against the body of the kayak gives you a sporadic feeling of sit-down surfing. My young guide sat at the back, and I paddled at the front which is usually offered to a newbie sightseer to enjoy an unimpeded view without worrying too much about paddling hard. I found myself transported to the scene of the classic Hindi film, Jab Jab Phool Khile, with Shahi Kapoor paddling his Shikara in Dal Lake, singing Pardesiyon Se Na Ankhiya Milana.

Baagon mein jab jab phool khilenge
Tab tab yeh harjaai milenge
Gujarega kaise patjhad ka zamana
Pardesiyon se na ankhiyan milana
- Anand Bakshi, Lyricist

As soon as the flowers start blossoming in the gardens
one can bump into these unfaithful ones
how will autumn pass by
let's not lock our eyes with foreigners

I don’t know why, but I find myself feeling nostalgic for the sweet sixties, an era that seems to have a magnetic pull of longing and a second-hand reminisce not only for me as a millennial but also for the past three generations though it’s possible some may trace their recollections wandering even further back, perhaps, in a form of colonial hangover.

The first day of the outing was filled with snorkeling, kayaking, diving, and hiking quickly to 360 Viewpoint and descending the visually-illusive steps. On returning, you can see the night markets springing up in action as soon as it’s dusky.

Saturday was committed to Phi Phi Islands and the attractions around it in a speed boat. Unlike the previous day, it was rather sunny — a good sign for shutterbugs and sunbathers. For someone who had never plunged into such deep waters, taking a swim in the open sea might seem a little daunting at first, but knowing that the boat is never too far from you to reach in a matter of a breath and the presence of a watchful boat crew makes you feel secure. Maya Bay, the filming location of “The Beach” starring Leonardo Dicaprio, is probably the most vibrant part of the tour. I lost sight of my ‘Asia Speedboat’ among the hundreds docked there every day. Luckily I caught up with them for the buffet lunch in Phi Phi Don, the largest and center island in the Phi Phi archipelago, after traveling with another party.

On the forward deck, the winds are whipping and the waves take on a new appearance — their sun-drenched marine hues shimmering in the light. In the distance, large limestone rocks jut out of the sea with the top covered with thick vegetation that resembles broccoli. The day ended up with me departing to the idyllic slow-paced Krabi town on a local bus-van, where I had pre-booked my second hotel of the trip near the beautiful Krabi river. Local food is excellent, even for an unassuming vegetarian like me with plenty of options for a savory plant-based diet. On Sunday noon, I caught my flight back to Singapore, and as I peered out the right-side window of the plane, I took a long look at nature’s marvel below. Even a brief night stay in Krabi and its peaceful, rural surroundings had a way of making me feel attached to the area. In contrast, more tourist-heavy destinations like Phuket or Ao Nang can lack that same sense of grip. It’s remarkable how someone can be an effortless globetrotter, while parting ways with a new bucolic place every now and then — ending a relationship.

360 View Point at Hong Island

Loh Samah Bay, Phi Phi Islands

Maya Bay, Phi Phi Islands