PLACES IN THE BOOK

Mandvi

“This constant flowing backwards and forwards in time often happened to me in Mandvi. Initially it was a very unsettling experience. Image flowed into image, dissolving and reforming a new image. Feelings and sensations emerging.

A fisherman hauling in his boat from the water, a deserted graveyard crowded out by thorny shrubbery sunk among the dunes, a donkey cart bearing a barrel of water from the nearby lake, narrow broken streets unravelling images of past glory along the dilapidated facades of homes, a wandering holy man – decked in beads and plastered red and orange sitting on a cracked slab staring out at flocks of flamingos feeding in silence, calls to prayer floating over the rooftops brushing the feathers of pigeon flocks returning home, colouring the golden air with sacred throbs of worship…and when night came in like the moving dust-whirls of the Rann and settled over the old port, the dogs took to the streets.”

Bhuj

“Bhuj was alive with surprises.

Wherever Susan and I were in the city together we’d find ourselves exploring the inner lanes of the old settlements, up one alleyway and down another, opening out on to narrow streets, wal

ls and buildings breathing down on us from either side. Trees grew out of houses which in turn grew out of other houses with extensions jutting out into the streets, four floors up, precariously balancing on teetering beams. New homes grafted on to the ruins of old. Kid goats staring down from balconies. Bullocks with massive horns appearing around the corner, blocking the passageways. Lines of donkeys stubbornly moving ahead of us, sacks of sun-baked bricks on their backs.”

Khali Nadi

“Here, flocks of sheep and goats and herds of camels and cows descended from shrub-covered slopes, grunting, bleating, wheezing, snorting, jostling each other for space enough to bend and draw in water between parched lips and roll it over heavy tongues, and let it slide down into shrivelled stomachs. The gift of the earth.

The sangam behind us, we stepped down into the waterless body of Khali Nadi. From deep inside me an overwhelming feeling of awe welled up. Aeons of upheavals had pushed the stone and earth to the surface and rain, wind and a now vanished sea had painstakingly carved and polished its body into shape. It had survived the long and brutal ways of time, arranging and rearranging the shades and textures of its bones. And on that day, the 11th of September 2000 AD, I stood still for a while, letting the sensation of time and the silent spirit of the river rise through me…. and then we walked on.”

Hamirsa Lake

A haze of dust curtained the island-garden in the centre. Glimmers of green breaking the grey-brown glare. Far off, to the right of the island, a patch of water lay like a mirror reflecting the face of an indifferent sky. The edges were lined with birds, cows, goats, sheep, dogs, dhobis, water carriers and a saffron robed sadhu or two. Surprising that the water hadn’t been licked dry after all those demands. It remained, oozing from hidden springs, defying the dust-slaked wind.

On my previous visit to Bhuj, a few months earlier, the dust bowl was swollen with moss green water. Swarms of birds swam, skimmed, circled, glided, somersaulted and sat in mixed flocks preening, resting, nibbling at each other affectionately. The air was clear and pale honey light flowed across the city, wrapping itself around the island-garden, spreading over the surface of the lake, flashing colours like explosion when birds rose and fell. And through it all, a flock of fifty rosy pelicans sailed in formation, gently rippling the water. The dreamlike glow that filled the Hamirsa Lake, transformed it into a paradise for that brief while. Moments of tranquillity and fullness.