Sanctuary Of Random Keystrokes

38ºC. At 10:30 PM. The arrival terminal is always overcrowded at night. The conveyor belts are too close to each other and the space between them always cramped with big trolleys that were definitely not meant for this airport. You must travel lock, stock and barrel to this city must be the unwritten diktat somewhere. The luggage always arrives on one of the two conveyor belts adjacent to the one that the airlines actually announces. One out of 3 taps in the loo don’t work. The queue for taxi at the private taxi counter moves at a glacial pace. Poor souls looking to commute to the satellite towns don’t have any other choice. The pre-paid taxi queues at the government provided counters move fast but once you are outside with your receipt, the cabs don’t come. If they do, they refuse to board you; numbered bays not withstanding. Of course, it’s all supposed to give an impression of order without actually being orderly. I am completely in awe of flying. That we can cover distances that took months to traverse in mere hours is indeed fantastic. It is the ordeal that I must go through every time I get down the plane at this city is what gets my entire goat pen.

Within minutes of driving from Leh you find yourself alone. Initially you encounter a lot of army bases of varying sizes but soon the only reminder of the army’s presence is the near-perfect road that you are driving on. Shortly we were moving along the Indus river:

A visit to Alchi was the only thing on our itinerary. That gave us a lot of time to enjoy our journey. We drove down to the bank of a river on the way and collected colorful round pebbles. Some of them had been soaking the morning sun and were pleasantly warm to hold in our frigid hands while those that had languished in the shade were hail-cold.

The moment we passed the ruins of the 11th century Basgo monastery we found ourselves stuck in a traffic jam. Traffic jams in the mountains are not as much traffic jams as they are stalemates that can linger from 30 minutes to 3 hours. We almost look forward to them because they allow us to step out of the car, stretch our legs, and even go for a short stroll. This time our car happened to stop at a small village courtyard that had a cluster of apricot trees in full bloom. Between admiring and clicking those delicate flowers we forgot that we were on moments borrowed from our main journey and had to run to our car as the traffic started moving.

We were visiting Alchi on a friend’s recommendation who had mentioned the spectacular Apricot blossoms at the monastery complex. We were about two weeks too late. Most trees there had shed their flowers. But it took hardly any imagination to deduce how beautiful it must have have been.

While looking for our way out of the monastery, we ran into an old monk who insisted that we were going around the monastery in an anti-clockwise direction. He took us under his wing and made us do three clockwise rounds of the monastery.

On emerging out of the monastery, we were eager to walk in a straight line and told our driver to pick us down the road after a few minutes. It was 1 in the afternoon and the local school had just finished. Kids returning from school were enthusiastic about having their pictures taken. The brother in this brother-sister duo posed for me while the sister posed for the wife:

By this time, breakfast was already a distant memory. None of the restaurants we had seen during our visit last year had opened yet. We decided to continue our journey back to Leh and keep our eyes peeled for restaurants on the way. As we got closer to Leh the weather had turned a little ominous. Eerie light illuminated distant mountains. Barely-existent flakes of snow occasionally swirled down from fat grey clouds overhead.

On reaching Leh we bolstered oursleves with hot food and a short nap. In the evening I went to our hotel’s roof-top restaurant for a cup of hot ginger-honey tea. The mountains of the Stok range visible from here, were cloaked in clouds and mist. But what I’ll always remember this evening by, is this picture of a small monastery atop a hill aglow in the dying sunset against a dark, grey sky.

While I knew that Japan was driven to such desperation during World War II that they resorted to Kamikaze, I had no idea that a similar suicide unit existed for navy as well. The unit was called ‘Kai Ten’ and basically used torpedos modified to accomodate human ‘drivers’ who would ram them into the enemy ship.

I came across a fictional autobiographical account of a Kai Ten ‘driver’ in David Mitchell’s Number 9 Dream. Each paragraph of that account sent a chill down my spine. And to think that someone lived through it…

Wikipedia has more if you have the stomach for it.

As an aside, the Kanji for Kai Ten (the phrase roughly means ‘the turn toward heaven’) is 回天. While I am not sure I can explain 回, it’s quite easy to logically explain the origin of 天. The Kanji for big (huge, enormous) is 大. It is simplification of drawing of a man with his arms outstretched. (How big? This “大” Big). Add a bar or ‘roof’ on top of it and you get Kanji for ‘big-roof’ or (figuratively speaking) sky though it’s used more in the sense of ‘heaven’.

I don’t know where I am with my phone’s camera. It’s 5 MP – which is a good deal more than my first point and shoot (and I used to be *quite* happy with that once). But now I am too used to a real view-finder and a real (satisfying) shutter release sound to be able to compose properly with this one. We’ll see how it goes in the coming days.

I imagine a mirror between two posters that turns reflections into sketches.

Stick no bills.

I recently got an Android phone. One of the apps that I enjoy playing with on it is ‘Google Goggles’. You take a photo with the phone’s camera and then Google Goggles fires a search to get you more information about the thing you just clicked. It’s often eerily accurate.

Facebook allows your photos to be tagged by others. It’s only a matter of time that they plug in face recognition. iPhoto does it, Picassa does it, I see no reason why Facebook won’t (if it doesn’t already).

So you take a photo, use something like Google Goggles for Facebook, and voilá you have (depending on the user’s privacy settings) details of the person you clicked!

It isn’t called Facebook for nothing.