The fisherman of Nalsarovar

Boats after Sunset

We left at 5 am from Goregaon as planned. Nalsarovar in Gujarat was our destination. It was the first halt of our road trip. From Nal, we were to head to the Little Rann of Kutch and then on to the Jawai Bandh to experience the post-monsoon scenery of that beautiful landscape we had visited in May.

At the Nal, we were to meet up with Ramzan bhai, our guide and host. Anil mama and Balabhai knew him well and had stayed with him earlier.

The journey was long and arduous - about 750km. The road up to the Gujarat border was in terrible condition with patchy work in progress in random spots in a disorganised manner. We lunched near Surat at about half past 1. From Bharooch we get on to the new Mumbai-Delhi expressway and the traffic clears up.

We reached the Vekariya village next to the sarovar after sunset. Ramzan bhai had made sleeping arrangements in the verandah of an empty neighbouring house. Four khatt (frame cots with rope supports) were set up. He had arranged for the thick blankets as it was wintertime.

We had home cooked dinner of bajra rotlas and mixed veg sabzi all washed down with excellent chaas. They served us with the famous Indian hospitality and love.

It got cold in the night and we were thankful for the thick blankets.

The bad news was that some political disturbance had caused the sarovar to be shut to the public. So in the early morning, we decided to roam the nearby areas in search of the birdies. The Namaqua migratory pigeon from Africa was the star along with the red Munia. In the evening we went to see some Saras cranes.

Just after sunset we decided to go see the sarovar from an irregular route, unseen from the guards. We saw some boats and a boatman. The Nalsarovar is very shallow but covers a vast area. These fishermen with their flatboats have their livelihoods tied to this water.

For dinner, we had a special treat of local fish curry and fried fish. All with chullha roasted bajra rotlas.

Next morning we got up early and left for the Little Rann of Kutch. We had lived two nights with a fisherman from the Nalsarovar.

the boatman

good food

bed time! this is where we stayed

early morning birding

our guide

good food

switchboard

writing on the wall

cotton

transporter

new developments

faith and customs

IF

If you can keep your head when all about you
  Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
   But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
   Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
   And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
   If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
   And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
   Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
   And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
   And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
   And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
   To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
   Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
   Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
   If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
   With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
   And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

—Rudyard Kipling

(‘Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards and Fairies)

Sunday Flower

“In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity”
― Sun-Tzu, The Art of War

Goodbye 2024

2024 has ended. A year of suspended animation. Of trying to figure out what the rest of life will look like. A year spent with family and friends. A happy, lazy, peaceful year.

The Salt Makers of the Little Rann of Kutch

Kalubhai

Kalubhai. I have had the privilege of spending 2 days with Kalubhai and his family. Kalubhai is a 4th generation salt maker from the Little Rann of Kutch.

The Rann is a harsh place - barren with almost no good water. The sun beats down so hard that people not accustomed to this climate will not be able to survive a summer here. The wild asses roam this arid land. The raptors fly over it looking for food. This almost featureless vast landscape extends upto where the sky meets the horizon. Walking on the parched cracked earth gives you a sense of melancholy.

The land oozes salt water. This is what is used for the salt making. Shallow wells are dug and the water is pumped into the salt pans. The once manual process had shifted to using water pumps running 24/7 on crude oil. Now they run only at night. Electric pumps run in the daytime powered by 2 large solar pannels. You can see these pannels dotted around the landscape - indicating where a family is working.

Salt-making is a laborious task. They work barefoot in the salt pans. This takes a toll on their legs and feet, and older people have permanent swellings and thickening of their skin. Both Kalubhai and his wife work this tough job.

The land taketh but it also giveth. You get to see the sun rise from the ground on the horizon - shining in its vast glory. The nights are fantastic with millions of stars adorning it. The air is crisp and clean. There is a simplicity to this life which balances the harsh realities.

We entered this remote and mystical world through the gateway at Zhinzhuwada. Kalubhai's elder son met us at the Vasraj dada temple at the edge of the Rann. Vasraj dada is the local deity who is supposed to have fought with a monster to protect his cows. He was beheaded but still continued to fight. There are two temples - one where his head fell and the other where his body fell. The later is a large complex where a yearly festival of some size occurs.

Kalubhai and his wife fed us home cooked and love infused food. Bajra rotla and mixed veg sabzi, fresh toor rassa sabzi, special suji halva. All washed down with lots of chaas. We sat under the shade of the solar panels and listened to their simple life.

We drove across the Rann to the larger Vasraj dada temple. An unforgettable journey! I had the feeling of being on an alien planet. The vast grey-brown landscape stretched all around us. Seemingly unending.

At the temple we had the prasad lunch. Sweet rice, chapati's and mixed-veg sabji. And chaas. We washed and cleaned our plates after eating. Then we rested for some time before heading back.

One the next day we attempted to get to the nearby dam but out vehicle got stuck in the sticky mud. Some of the areas are wet muddy slush and they appear darker. Mukesh - Kalubhai's son - was guiding us but he, being used to his light two wheeler, misjudged a patch. Our heavy car just sunk and refused to budge. After trying with stones and wood sticks and what not we finally got a tractor to pull us out.

We had pitched out tents next to the hut to protect somewhat from the wind which can get pretty strong. The nights were chill - about 13C. Early morning Kalubhai's wife made us hot puri's to go with the sweet black tea they drank. The tea had a distinctive salty taste due to the water. Super tasty combination.

After two nights experiencing the loving hospitality of these hardy folks, we bid adieu and headed back towards reality.

The Rann is vast. It is flat and featureless. The horizon stretches out in all directions. The landscape evokes a sense of melancholy.

The landscape is dotted with these small temples dedicated to various deities. They serve as markers on this featureless landscape.

Kalubhai's wife working on the pan. They flatten the base with their bare feet as they preapre a new pan. It is very hard work. The mud is sticky. When dried it hardens like a rock. We had to use screwdrivers to get it out of our shoes.

A control board. Sort of. Control of the pumps.

The boys of the Rann. Children of the salt makers

The vast Rann

Our vehicle got stuck in the salty mud and had to be pulled out by a tractor.

The gate at Zhinjuwada - The gateway to the Rann

The salt pans

The salt pans

Dawn. The white salt reflected the sky vividly.

Arrid

Food for the soul

Bajra rotla's, fresh toor rassa, special halva. It was amazing food.

We spent two nights in our tents next to their hut.

We bid adieu to Kalubhai and his family in the cold morning.

A slice of Mumbai - the Worli Sea Link

Christmas 2023. Didi treated us to a dinner in the Taj Land's End. Juicy mutton gravy and lots more. She also took us on a tour and showed us a balcony on one of the higher floors. Exclusive spaces for the exclusive folks of this world. We were lucky to get a glimps at all.

This photo is taken from up there.

Serious Observations of a Funny World

Portrait: The Mountaineer

A mountaineer. Once must learn how to live from him. How to be happy and enjoy every day. How to face challenges and climb over them. How to be simple.

Camera: Sony A7R III
Lens: Sony Zeiss Plannar 50/1.4
Light: Natural light from a french window on the left (his right).


Portraits of the Soul

Sunday Flower

“Do not dwell in the past,
do not dream of the future,
concentrate the mind on the present moment. ”

― Buddha

Portrait: The Local Train Traveller

He travelled 34 years in Kalyan-VT local train. Saw the city change through a moving window.

Camera: Sony A7R III
Lens: Sony Zeiss Plannar 50/1.4
Light: Tube light on the top-left and behind him.



Portraits of the Soul

Mulund Chronicles

Reconstructions were everywhere. The old giving way to the new

March 2015 - Oct 2016

I was born and brought up in Mumbai. Lived in various places and all of those had an impact on who I am today. For 5 years till my 4th std I lived in a small village called Tarkhad near Vasai town. After that for about 22 years we stayed on the University of Mumbai campus at Kalina.

After my father retired, we shifted to Kandivalli and then to Goregaon. None of these two places felt like home after campus. After a few years the family shifted to Pune. I stayed on for another year trying to do a startup. When me and Percy finally started working on an idea we shifted to his house in Warje on the outskirts of Pune. We stayed there for 2 years, mostly underground.

After the startup shut I moved back in with the family. Got married and we all shifted to Kothrud, Pune. Finally a home which felt like home.

Once while visiting friends in Mumbai I visited Powai. I was to meet them at some football ground. After so many years living outside of Mumbai it all felt grand - the large buildings and the hustle and bustle. I wondered if I would ever live or work in some such grand place again...

Next year I got a job in that same grand building opposite the football ground. The Supreme Business park. The financials were still a little shaky so me and the wife shifted to an unassuming 1 bhk in the old LIC colony in Mulund East.

I stayed for amost 2 years in Mulund East. These were few of the most difficult, happening and eventful years for me. Lots of things happened...

I got to experience my favourite Mumbai monsoon in full glory. Twice. I connected with old friends. Old life. I travelled a lot to Kalyan and Pune. My mum got sick. She passed away. My daughter was born. I had a health crisis as my B12 and D3 hit near zero. I got my ACL reconstruction done which had been pending for over 6 years. I repaid my startup loan. I brought a bike with cash payment.

So much.

Mulund East is old Mumbai. Some of the buildings there were derelict and rundown. 50+ years old. There was decay everywhere. Old people. Poli-bhaji kendra's where mostly these old people got their food. It was like shifting back in time.

But Mumbai has it's charm. We felt at home. Me and the wify were finding back our feet in this city. The house was small and very old but it was still cozy. Luckily many of ours friends lived in Thane and nearby so Viviana mall was the new meeting place. Many dinners.

The Punto got used to the road from Mulund to Kalyan. Since my wife was pregnant she spent last trimester at her mothers in Kalyan. So most weekends I used to be there. On the others, we used to find our way back to Pune. I missed my mother and my little niece...

I used to get food from these very poli-bhaji kendras. One of them was run by a dude near the main chowk. He used to have chicken on some days and I used to get that. We employed an old bai who had grown up in the locality. She used to get fish - bangda, ravas, surmai, kolambi - for me and cook them in traditional style. Amazing stuff.

The office was super. We had an x-box 360, a pool table, a tt table & a mini golf course. Great time spent there. My health crisis made it extremely difficult for me to work and I thank Rishi for being patient with me. Eventually I left as I felt I did not do justice to the job at that point of time. That was the lowest point in my working career.

I shifted back to Pune to join my brother's startup. I had got very homesick after my mother's passing and I suppose I felt at home in Kothrud with the rest of the family. But this short stint in Mumbai will remain etched in memory.

The old markets of Mulund

The LIC colony. Reminded me of our campus. There were families who had stayed there more than 40 years.

The dude where I got my weekly dose of chicken curry.

Just Mumbai.

The new office was swank

Good times

The wife gifted me my dream lens. Super Awesome.

Powai

Mumbai rains. Oh I miss them.

The eating area of Supreme Business Park. We had waterfall view in the rains.

Powai

Old haunts. The Naka and DP's

Post the ACL reconstruction. Recovery was painful

Serious Observations of a Funny World

So You Want To Be A Writer

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.
don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.

–– “So You Want To Be A Writer” by Charles Bukowski

Patterns of Life

To understand is to perceive patterns.
- Isaiah Berlin

Beauty lies all around us. When we are open to receive beauty we will see patterns all around.

To be “open to receive beauty" is to cultivate a mindset of reverence and appreciation for all the that surrounds us - both minute and grand. We need an “active openness" which requires us to engage with our surroundings with mindfulness and intentionality.

William Blake, in his glorious poetic wisdom, said:
“To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour."

When one adopts such an open stance, patterns of beauty reveal themselves with a magical clarity. The interplay of light and shadow, the juxtaposition of myraid forms, the cadence of the wind and water and of life itself — all become agencies of joy and a reminder of the inherent order and harmony that govern the universe.

In this state of openness, beauty is not merely observed; it is experienced. It becomes a source of inspiration and a reminder of the interconnectedness of all things. As John Keats wrote, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness." Beauty, therefore, is not transient; it lingers, enriching our lives with each encounter and leaving an indelible mark on our souls.

To see beauty and the patterns it forms is to embrace life with a full heart - it is an invitation to look deeper, to feel more profoundly, and to live with an awareness that transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary.


Photo taken at Badami on a Sony A7R3.