The Princess who played the Prostitute

There are days when being an architect (ahem....cad monkey...ahem) gets a bit monotonous and you flutter and wiggle inside in search of different flavours. I felt strangely liberated when I drove around Pondicherry one night looking for the casting agent’s house. Veronique Meuron had advertised for 100 female and 300 male extras for a French television series and I had decided to check it out. She was desperately searching for someone to play “The Indian Beauty”. The role description was not as flattering as the title. The bad guy (played by Jean-Hugues Anglade) is in bed with two women when his sister (played by Milan Jampano) breaks in with through the door to kill him. The two frightened girls jump out of bed and run out screaming. I was to audition for that role. She took a couple of pictures and showed us around her office cum apartment. There were print outs of giant Excel sheets all over the walls co-ordinating actors, animals, props etc with the shooting schedule. We would be engaged for three days to shoot at a palace in Chettinad and paid a decent sum of money for it. It sounded a perfect paid vacation plan.

I was hopeful of getting the part when a call from her shattered my dreams a few days later. She had found someone better and moved on. I was bitter about it for a couple of days but eventually overcame it. There were other pressing things to take care of at work. Life, however, never moves in straight channels but meanders and twists when least expected.

The agent called me again in the middle of the afternoon and said they urgently needed someone to play the part of the servant, would I be willing to come? I forgot all the drama and heartbreak of the previous days in a second and nodded like a puppy dog. So, while the female protagonist in the script goes from being a deported prostitute in France to a princess in India, my role took a reverse turn.

Morning found me stuffed in a car with a troupe of other actors being transported to Chettinad. It is quite amusing to be trapped in a van with aspiring actresses for twelve hours. Other than the constant re-touches to the makeup there was incessant talk about actors, directors and future assignments. It is sad to see these little girls carry the weight of so many dreams on their emaciated shoulders. I felt like a bit out of place but did my bit to participate.

When we reached the shooting location in the middle of nowhere an ugly shock awaited us. Because of the rains they had rescheduled the plan and had already shot the scene for which we came all the way from Pondicherry. The casting manager was in a soup and did not know what to do with us. We were beginning to get really angry at the situation also. A few frantic cigarettes later he managed to squeeze us in the third day’s schedule. We would get paid as promised but for different roles. We accented.

To shoot, we moved to the ghost town of Kanadikathan in the Chettinad region of Tamil Nadu. It took the production team two days to figure out what they wanted to do with us. This gave us enough time to explore the region around. I had read a lot about the grandeur of Chettinad houses but nothing can prepare you for the real thing. One house stretched for half a kilometre and had a thousand windows. The magic of courtyards, the magnificence of hand carved granite pillars and the mystery of dark rooms and windy staircases was enchanting. Sadly the trade from Myanmar that supported such extravagant lifestyles stopped long back and the younger generations moved to the cities leaving behind these architectural relics. Some houses just decay behind huge padlocks while others have a negligent keeper or squatters selling the richly carved pillars one at a time.

These architectural distractions calmed me down a little as the vanity of the whole venture had begun to trouble me. By the afternoon of the third they called us to another palatial house were the scene was to be shot. A fake market was being set up complete with fruit and vegetable stalls, cows and goat, beggars et al. Inside one of the courtyard the makeup team had set base and were dishing out French soldiers, Indian kings and natch girls by the minute. There was lots of confusion as the French and Indian crew tried to co-ordinate with each other.

We were dressed up in 19^th century natch girl style (I had 10 other mates doing the same thing) and waited for our scene. The central courtyard of the palace was set up like a king’s pleasure house. We were required to stand along the edges of the scene to entertain French guests. The main female character would then burst in to rescue a kidnapped child. The scene for so silly that me and a couple of other extras had a hard time controlling our laughter. It was shot 17 times with different camera angles. It was midnight before we left for home.

The ridiculousness of the whole adventure still makes me laugh. A part of me now exists on celluloid somewhere in French television (if it is not cut off during editing). It was nice to peek into another profession albeit for just three days. I now have a newfound respect for the movie industry people for the amount of time, money and energy they put into making films.

Chasing the elusive Yarsa Gambu

When he was a young boy, G would allow me to follow him on Hisalu Hunts (HH as it was secretly called) up and down the then green forests of Nainital. I tried to match his pace as he walked with much enthusiasm and talked of Bumblebees and Bichu Buti. Now, twenty years later I found myself following him once again. This time the hunt was bigger and better: the multi million rupees Yarsa Gambu or Keeda Ghans.
For the uninitiated, Keeda Ghaans is a unique entity. A worm during winter, it wriggles under the snow somewhere at an altitude of 5000 meters and dies. Fungus grows on its dead body and when the snow melts out emerges the plant: a 10 cm long wriggly brown shoot easily missed by the untrained eye. It sells for Rs. 3 lacks a Kilo across the border where it is used in Tibetan medicine and in recent times to make steroids for athletes and Viagra for others.
Keeda Ghaans has brought about something of an economic revolution in the villages beyond Dharchula. Each year thousands of families climb up to the peaks of Himalaya 4000m and beyond to collect a few grams of this organic gold.
When we reached Himkhola it bore a deserted look. It was late in the afternoon and old men were immersed in a game of cards, puffing hard on their biris as they went along. Women were hard at work drying out Dhania and attending to cattle. Everyone else was out on the hunt. Pradhaan Jee was kind enough to allow us to sleep in his son’s room (now a student at Allahabad). For the evening walk we went over to the nursery run by the forest department and found out about:
Thunair (Taxus Bacata) A pine like tree that is a sure shot answer to cancer (its bark extract sells for Rs. 4 lack per gram). It is rare in the forest so the forest department is trying to grow it and spread it out to provide a source of income.
The real fun began after sunset. All men sat with a glass of Chakti: the locally brewed daroo. Uncontrolable laughter and exaggerated stories of hunting two tigers with one bullet followed.
Next morning we set off with Pradeep( Pradhan jee’s son) as the guide and Shyam with his horse(Kris) to assist our “bloated and unsustainable” luggage. Paksa, the world’s best forest dog, decided to tag along. So we set off from Himkhola village to Karangdang top: a vertical distance of 2000 meters with an almost eighty degree incline. The first few kilometres were easy and enjoyable as we followed the gadhera( stream). The climb was eased by Pradeep’s encouraging words, Shyam’s titbits( from chewing gum to mouth freshners) and Tiwari jee’s anecdotes.
The first day ended when we camped on Maidan no 2 ( Pancha Sua?)as it was close to the water source. We bonded that night with rapid fire rounds of antakshari and dance by the bon-fire. The tent G brought along was nice and cosy so we were doubly charged next morning to reach the top.
A word about relieving yourself in the open: could nirvana be any different?
The Bugyal comes when the tree line ends. Ekla-Rukh(single tree) marks this transition. It’s just grass after that, so you get to meet some interesting shepherds who live here for 4-5 months in summer. Their lives are almost as calm and serene as the mountains around them (except when the wolf comes or the sheep jump off the hill). Groups of Gamboo hunters would stop at the shepherd tent to exchange news. Everyone talked about the huge party at 5000m where most families camped. Imagination was assisted with their description of hot Jalebies being made and Chakti flowing free. There were difficulties though- rain to freeze your bones and the un-named blue flower at Nasa Marti that caused hallucination by merely looking at it.
View from Karangdang top allowed us to view two valleys and the river in between. We made a few dance-song videos and interviewed the locals on their thoughts on Yarsa Gambu. Their songs would always have memories of the beautiful girl in the village who awaits their arrival and it is these memories that give them strength. It was also interesting to note how the folk song described the actual geographical route for reaching the top and beyond.
Climbing down was sad and fast. We drank Thuner tea and chatted up about the problem of unemployment in the hills, migration and whether Gamboo hunting was a good enough alternative. It was on the ride back to Dharchula in a rickety Sumo way past sunset that my thoughts were pre-occupied with moving to Himkhola for ever. My faith in the magnanimity of the hill folks was restored . The little girl who had followed the little bigger boy had found out why they said that you can take a man out of the mountains but never mountains out of a man.

Credits:
G : now popularly known as Almora Boy (almoraboy.blogspot.com)
Tiwaree Jee: an excellent driver and an even better trekker
Shyam: Rider on the storm
Pradeep: Climbs the hills during his summer vacations but is otherwise working on his B.Ed in Allahabad
Paksa: Dog is a man’s best teacher and guide.
Special mention: The bird that eats smoke off campfires!!!

Images for the last post:

Confluence of Alakhnanda and Mandakini at Rudrapryaag

many beautiful pics of Chopta trek still lost in the formatted memory card. Please help!

A month on the road……………

There is more wisdom in a mile of walking than in one hundred books.....

Well, going by that, I should be a pundit exuding knowledge from every pore of my body. The month of December was crazy! I walked, drove and rode thousands of kilometers across the length and breadth of the country finally to land back at my perch here at room 73.

It all began when I boarded a train at Banaras with 50 other ghanchakkars bound for Agra. Now traveling with 50 people can be quite an experience because there is never a dull moment. We did it all, from playing antakshari, singing bhajans, reciting Kabeer ke dohe, enacting Shakespere to conducting elaborate weddings! At Agra, we stayed in the cheapest of hotels, ate the most awful food, but had a blast visiting the Taj and Fatehpur Sikri. The monument of love did not inspire any awe because the moment was lost with thousands of tourists pushing and pulling to get their picture taken in front of it. At Agra fort, we got mesmerized by the shayaree our senile guide presented rather than the monument. Arz kiya hai……” shamma bekar hai agar ujaala na ho……husn bekaar hai agar chahnewala na ho”.

Next stop was Jaipur. We saw it all, from the world’s largest canon to the palace of nine queens. Watching a movie at Rajmandir was an experience as the hall has no equals when it comes to creating ‘movie magic’. Chauki Dhani, a resort village in the outskirts of Jaipur was where we had hukka, ate a 22course Rajasthani meal, feasted on chooran and had a jyotish whisper in my ear,”you’ll never settle in life!”(damn!shud have listened to him).

Then our troupe’ made a long journey to Jaisalmer, the far off desolate desert city. From there on a speeding Sumo (driven by yours truly!) we went to Sam, a village 40km from Jaisalmer. The camel safari was good, albeit a bit shaky! Then we joined in with the locals for a night of dance and music. Driving back from Sam, on the isolated desert road, is something none of is going to forget in a hurry.
At Jaisalmer, we also visited the only living fort in India, puffed some more hukka and spent a long evening shopping in the by-lanes.

By now, Rajasthan was getting to us, so for a change, we went off to Ahmedabad! Remembering that we were after all on a study tour, we went to CEPT, IIM, Apollo and finally Sangath, B.V Doshi’s office.
Not that we did not have fun. Mornings were spent munching on dhokla and the evenings roaming in the malls.

We re-entered Rajasthan to visit Udaipur. The beauty of its lake and palaces left us spellbound! We would have stayed longer but we were out of money so we decided to head home…..
At Delhi, where we broke our journey, guys and girls sat together and sobbed to Tare Zzameen Pe and later in the evening got lost in Chandani Chauk.
For most the journey ended there, they could rest their tired feet at home before joining in for the next semester. But for me, there was still a lot more to come!
When I got down at Banaras, my parents said that I had to join them for a week in the hills. So began the road journey to Almora. We met up with Gullu, Smira and her parents. The journey did not stop here. Our final destination was Munshiari, 270km from Almora. The twists and turns of the road took us two days to reach there. Yes, I saw snow after a long time. Gullu made us trek to far off places, up…up….up….we cursed him but there is nothing like the view from the top!!!
The high of this trip was probably seeing two naked sadhus, sitting amidst snow and smoking chillum!!!!
Alas! I had to break the journey and return to B.I.T. after all, it had been a month. So, after four days of traveling I was back. Its around one in the morning now and I am sitting hunched over my comp, googling out the next trip…..this time its gonna be spring fest at IIT, Kharagpur!!!!!