Pattaya..... A mixed bag of unforgettable experiences

Few hundred kilometers from Bangkok, Pattaya is a beach city renowned not only for its coastal lining but also for its epicurean mirth and lascivious indulgences. And that gives it the nick name: The Sin City.

We entered Pattaya late afternoon. I was surprised to notice that the city seemed to be just waking up from its beauty sleep. Most of the shops were closed only few restaurants were open and the streets were sparsely crowded. It seemed that a curfew had just been lifted. In short, it looked anything but the Pattaya I heard about….. Or was it the calm before the storm?

It was… it was…that I realized once I started strolling down the streets around six. It was evening twilight and the city was waking up, much like a blooming Night Queen. And I could feel how the tempo of the party beats escalated in my veins with every passing hour. My observant eyes could also spot many unfamiliar sights that pierced like shards into my “typical Indian eyes”. The first thing that caught my attention was the mismatched couples crawling across the streets and communicating in some coded language. This was followed by men (some of them quite elderly) showing pictures of women on display. I also came across a young grandfather of an illegitimate grandson. But what shattered my orthodox beliefs is the frankness of the people. Yes, Pattaya is one place where prostitution is legal. It is a profession as much as that of a gold smith’s, black smith’s, cobbler’s, sweeper’s, teacher’s, lawyer’s, doctor’s or an engineer’s. Like these professions, the sex workers here have licence , they maintain certain code of conduct, standard rates, they go through regular medical check up by the government and above all, they are protected by the law which is so much unlike India.

The Beach Road on which we were walking, ended to begin with a massive neon gateway written “ The Walking Street”. And once I stepped in, I felt that I was living in Tennyson’s “The Land of Lotos-Eaters”. To an onlooker it might seem to be a red light area but it is indeed a major tourist attraction for foreigners and Thai Nationals because it has a lot more to offer. This two kilometres stretch which wakes up only after the dusk and sleeps at the brink of the dawn is popular for its seafood restaurants, live music venues, beer bars, discotheque, sports bar, go-go bars and night clubs. Although “Walking Street “ is a part of Pattaya sightseeing package, as I could see tour guides leading groups of tourists as if they are doing march past. But this way, you can barely get an essence of this place. So I would suggest you to visit this place after nine, that too, on a Saturday night to taste its real flavour. But mind you, the way you leave your shoes outside a shrine, you should leave your “typical Indian mind-set” outside the large video signboard erected at the gateway. Then only you can groove to the tunes of the electrocuted atmosphere of this place. If you take it in the right spirit, you would feel like being in a carnival where you can let your heart out in the company of those who are really very close to you. However, I invariably saw a huge number of drooling men who have large libido and mighty ego but small pockets. A statuary warning for such men : Here all that is good to see is also nice to touch, but once you take the bait you would be charged and that would be quite a pocket pinch. Only and only window shopping comes at an affordable price.. And if you misbehave, there’s Tourist Police

understanding and speaking different languages. They usually park themselves at the entrance. These hawk eyed cops constantly patrol the entire area keeping everyone under check. They can even confiscate your passport if they suspect you of any crime.
Anyway, after some live music and song on demand, we jigged to hindi tunes at Toni’s club. Then we entered a bar which had Russian pole dancers. Gorgeous women coiling and slithering up and down the pole like snakes was a spectacle for my eyes. But each move came with a price and if you dare to touch these ladies you would be boxed and kicked out of the bar.

I really don’t know about the living condition of these women and their reason behind taking up this profession.  But have you ever thought who the real sinners are, even in the sin city? The people who are causing the sin, or the people who are committing sin or the ones who are mere instruments. In most of the cases, it is the instrument that suffers the maximum loss. Then why all the fingers are pointed only at them?

(II)

These are poses by the dancers of the famous Alcazar Cabaret Show. It is undoubtedly the most magnanimous cabaret show in Asia and one of the best amalgamations of dance drama and costume. The dancers started their performance with traditional Thai style of dance bejeweled in flamboyant costumes.This was followed by jazz, cabaret and Bollywood style. They also included a little comic dance drama  as a cherry on the cake.This show is a real feast to the eyes..... An extravaganza of entertainment.   

Can you imagine who these stunning beauties are? They are lady-boys whom we categorize as transgender. It is commendable to see how they are celebrating “who they are” in this state- of- art theater. They don’t have to beg. Instead the audiences book tickets to watch their performance. Isn’t it glorifying? They ended with a touching performance on a song with the following lyrics:“ The world is a beautiful place to begin with.” How poignant these words are! After all, we should bring the change we want to see.

On this account, I remember the incident where my colleague’s son got hooked in a scandal: It was his birthday. His roommate and other hostel mates had surprised him with cake in the middle of the night. They also ended up giving a shock to his parents by getting hold of his cell phone and updating his status: “I am 18 and I am gay!” This had made my colleague’s family furious. Later on the son had reverted to the status and explained his parents that it was a prank. But what if it were true? My colleague said, still she would remain her son. But, what about the family? What if, he had really belonged to the third-gender?
 According to the present Indian law, all the citizens of  India have equal right to all the opportunities. Recently, this has included the transgender as well. But, what about our mind-set which in turn makes the society? How many among us accept and respect a transgender for what he is? We shun at giving them alms and complain why they don’t earn their living. But till the recent past, there had hardly been any avenue for them to do so.

After the Alcazar Show the dancers came out to click pictures with the audiences. Even I didn’t miss the opportunity to be in the same frame with one of the ravishingly beautiful dancers. When I complemented z for z’s beauty I saw her eyes going moist with emotion. The expression was not like the seductive glances of those Russians at the go-go bar or the anxious stares of the ladies queued up on the pavements of the Walking Street anticipating the day’s business. Even that glance was far too different from the eunuchs begging for money in India. That lady-boy’s eyes were full of dignity and moist with gratitude… as though above all the adulation for her performance, some appreciation for what she was, was the only thing that she wanted to hear…. It was all that mattered to her.     

(III)

Chef Tim of Hotel Avista, in Phuket had wittily instructed us: “Visit Sanctuary of Truth to wash off

your sins from Walking Street!” Jokes apart, in reality, we could feel that he was mesmerized by the architectural magnificence of this place. But even after entering, little did we expect what we were about to see. Only after a tall and slender lady-boy had helped me wrap a sarong round my waist and directed us to climb down a flight of wooden stairs, we came to realise the grandeur of this spot.

A magnanimous wooden temple posed in front of us, keeping Andaman Sea as a challenging backdrop. We were simply rapt in awe. None of us could see the Taj Mahal in making, right! I was feeling accomplished for; here at least we could see the pain and labour and innovation involved in construing such a monument of equal stature. Walking through the intrinsically etched galleries with deities in their various forms, many among which were carved out of sandal wood and rose wood was a sheer treat for the senses.

The most surprising aspect of this temple is: no nails are being used to raise this grand sanctuary of 

craftsmanship.Either the blocks are fitted into each other so that they don't slip off and the pillars can be raised. Or, a special adhesive is used to permanently fix the statues.

 Moreover, the builders have to constantly fight against the salinity of the sea that stands as a big threat to the timber from Myanmar that is predominantly used for constructing this monument. Some parts are carved out of sandal wood and rose wood as well. But, after all nothing is impossible for a willing heart. And this we realized from there craftsmen who are working day and night doing and redoing the drawing, designing, cutting, etching etc. as if, that’s the quintessence of their lives. I believe, this is worship in its own sense….a divine meditation.

Nobody knows, when the construction of this temple would be complete. But seeing this grand monument in its making is no less achievement. Indeed, The Sanctuary of Truth is a marvel of architectural craftsmanship.  

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My Experiences of Tara Pith Pilgrimage

Tara pith is a popular place of pilgrimage for Bengalis . Here, Maa Tara the motherly image of the Goddess Shakti is worshipped. There are several myths behind the piety of this place. One of them is ---- when Lord Shiva in his furious state of tandav was carrying the corpse of Devi Sati, Lord Naraya sent his Sudarshan Chakra in order to cut away the body parts of the dead devi so that Lord Shiva could be appeased. It is assumed that the eyeballs of  devi fell here. As eyes are also called tara in local language, the place got its name: Tara pith. Another oral legend states that Sage Vashishtha was practicing austerities in order to evoke Ma Shakti, but he was failing to do so. One day he got a vision where he was asked to visit the erstwhile Tibetan Buddha as he could be the only one to show him the right direction. In the mean while the Buddha himself got a vision. He saw Ma Shakti feeding breast milk to Lord Neel Kanth at Tara pith. Lord Shiva had got this name because he drank a pitcher full of poison that was churned out of sea when the surs and asurs were fighting over their claims during samudra manthan. Ma Tara took up the role of the mother, to sooth Shiva’s parched throat.

 When asked by the sage, the Buddha instructed him to go to Tara pith and worship the goddess through the practice of Vamachara(the left-hand attainment method). Only after the sage had chanted the Tara mantra 300,000 times, Maa Tara showed herself to him, in the same incarnation which was seen by the Buddha in Tibet. Then she turned into a stone image and remained in Tara pith forever. Since then, this place has become a land of divine attainments and birth place of eminent spiritual figures like Kali bhakt Bama Khyapa and Krishna Bhakt  Nitayananda.

We took Rampurhat Express from Howrah station on a Tuesday. It departed at 11:55AM. The a/c chair-car coaches were quite impressive as the air-conditioning worked properly and the push-back seats provided sufficient leg space. The crowd majorly comprised pilgrims to Tara pith, though few passengers got down at Shantiniketan. Our journey was entertained by motley hawkers selling indigenous products and food items like: varieties of mouth- fresheners, cotton towels, jhal-muri(puffed rice with mixture) etc. Also there was a musical minstrel who joined us in the last quarter of our journey. The sombre elegiac tone of this rustic Baul, singing in accompaniment of his ghunghru (anklet) and ektara had stolen our hearts. He was singing his heart out with a bare hope of earning a few pennies only if we were pleased and in the mood to part away with our wealth.  Thus the three and half hours journey came to an end in no time.

the Baul with the ektara

Look at his passion!

 We reached Rampurhat at 4:30 PM and were thrown into an ocean of tuk-tuks and auto-rickshaws. After a row of bidding and bargaining I saw myself in an auto-rickshaw. We were asked to keep our luggage at the back of the vehicle. Despite being utterly perplexed about the instruction, we followed him. It was only after he had vroomed his auto we realized the reason behind his statutory warning. Our rickety auto driver must have been a fan of John Abraham and had imagined his equally rickety auto to be Harley- Davidson. Moreover, the road was more like the surface of the moon. Nevertheless we thank him for giving us this out of the world experience. Somehow the driver took us intact to our hotel “ Sonar Bangla” within 25-30 minutes. We had booked it online. Since it is one of the oldest hotels in this area I would not rate it, but comment that the room was decent in terms of Tara pith standards and the food was pretty much okay. We dumped our bags, freshened up, ate some snacks and went out to take a stroll across the town. The first thing we noticed was that the mongrels in Tara pith get first- citizens’ status.

 The temple stands about 10 minutes walking distance from our hotel. On the right hand side of the road flows the River Dwarka --- a part of Aadi Ganga(the ancient course of the holy river Ganges). Adjacent to it, amidst the thick foliage of tropical trees occupies the famous as well as ill famous crematorium of Tarapith. Famous, because this was the place where Sage Vishishtha and Sadhak Bama Khyapa attained enlightment and envisioned the Goddess Tara. An ashram for the devotees of Bama Khyapa has been built here. It is ill famous because this is the haven for aghori and tantric sanyasis(sages) who do queer Tantric practices. The local people say that the primordial-stone of Maa Tara was originally kept in the cremation grounds. It was the Queen of Nator who constructed the present temple and shifted the stone to its holy sanctum, much after the death of Bama Khyapa .

The temple comes on the left hand side of the crematorium only after a throng of shops selling Tara Maa’s feet and other souvenirs. But what caught our eyes was huge langchas (fried sweet meat dipped in sugar syrup) as if specially prepared to be served in elephants’ wedding!

those langchas

 We could also see many stalls that sell the ingredients needed to pay homage to Ma Tara. As we were considering the options: a dark skinned lithe bodied man of medium height wearing trousers in deep shade with a light coloured loose shirt appeared in front of us. He seemed to be in his thirties and introduced himself as Bangshi. He was the owner of one of such shops providing puja services. He somehow impressed us with his conviction. Therefore, we expressed our wishes for Ma’s darshan. And he did serve our requests promptly because that was his profession and he knew: customer service satisfaction is the secret of any successful business.

On that very evening he could squeeze us into the sanctum of Maa Tara during the evening aarti. We were so close that we could feel the heat of the lamps. I don’t know whether that made me purge my sins, but indeed it was a spectacle worth experiencing. We could see the adorning of the Goddess in details: first her silver face with large eyes and tongue protruding out, was cleaned with holy water and auspicious leaves, then her temple was decorated with turmeric and vermilion. The process of invocation of Devi was also awe inspiring. The beating of the drums and the bell metal disc synchronized with the bellows of conch shell and oral sounds produced by rolling of tongues, the smell of various forms of incense sticks and fanning of the Goddess with fans made from the manes of animals….. Almost took us into a trance. It continued for an hour. Although, I came out completely drenched in sweat, but the experience made my heart fuller and spirit lighter.

Ma Tara

Maa Tara's Aarti

The Adorning

After buying some souvenirs from an octogenarian shopkeeper who seemed to have us as his lone customers for the day (as he didn’t even have a change of even Rs.500), we walked down to Bangshi’s shop. He gave us two sweet meats as Prasad. We fixed an appointment at 3:30 AM, the next day in order to pay a personal homage to Maa Tara.

It was still dark when we started for the temple next morning.The ministers of good luck was favoring us that day because the moment we stepped out, we got an auto to the temple. Most of the shops were closed. But Bangshi was waiting for us at his shop. He handed us a big basket full of items to offer Maa. We were made to queue up behind a chain of around 20 people. The gate opened sharp at 4am. The queue moved in spiral lines into the sanctum. And what we saw inside was absolutely different from the avatar we had seen the previous day. This time we saw the primordial image of Maa Tara. It was an abstract set of curves on a black stone. This was indeed a mesmerizing sight. Ma Tara is bathed at that time of the day. And then that stone is worn the silver statue. Being a part of this ceremony gave us a divine feeling.

Bama Khypa's House

Since we had the entire day at hand, we decided to do a bit of sightseeing. Bangshi arranged a maruti van for us. First we went to the birthplace of Bama Khyapa at Atla gram, which is on one end of Tara pith. There we not only saw his photo taken by Abanindranath Tagore but also the relics of this great sage. Though he was a celibate, his brother’s descendants from his daughter’s side live in this area. After that, we went to Ekchakra gram which is around 20minutes drive from Atla through the rural topography of Bengal.

Bama Khyapa's Statue

 Apart from Nityananda’s birthplace, a majestic Krishna Temple by the Iscon society is the special attraction of this place.

His Relics

The beautiful Iscon Temple

That's me.... Motivated for Spiritual learning  

By then it was already afternoon. Bangshi was supposed to bring Ma’s vegetarian bhog to our hotel room. So we rushed to our hotel. Non-vegetarian bhog is also served by the temple since goat sacrifice is an integral part of Goddess Tara’s worship rituals. But trust me, even the sumptuous vegetarian bhog wouldn’t disappoint you.

The Sumptuous Bhog 

After relishing this holy food and thanking and tipping Bangshi for being an excellent travel guide we headed towards the Rampurhat station in an auto to catch our return train to Howrah Station. The day was hectic. But staying awake in the train paid us well. Because we could please our rolling tongues with hot and fresh chops brought to the train by a hawker who got up from one of the stations. They were in three varieties: prawn, egg and veg.  And snacking on these we reached Kolkata……

 “Jai Mai Tara!”

     

 A

Tram line of My Fondest Memories

Though I am not exactly brought up in Kolkata, but this is the city where I learned to fly,learned to swim... in a way, learned to carry myself . Kolkata, much like her belles, has a captivating charm about herself. You can leave the city, but you can't get the city out of your mind. And you realize this, only after you have shifted to some other place.  Then all that you can do is, ride on the tram of your thought and take a detour of this "City of Joy". While I was doing so myself I ended up penning these lines which I feel like sharing with you. So I begin by dedicating these lines in longing memories of my home, Kolkata.

Tram Line of My Fondest Memories

Our sleeping city of lyrical dreams,

Awakened by the morning Azan;

Purged in the night’s rain

Like a baptised lass

Getting ready for the day:

Sari clad, a long plate

 A bindi on the forehead;

Drenched by a fresh splash,

  Smothered sari In mud and murk,

                                                     Like vibrant batik prints.

I miss the smell of you ,Kolkata:

Petrichor of my fondest dreams.

The mango smeared afternoons

Or hilsa foiled in banana leaves;

Resplendent riotous umbrellas

Saving all from the sun’s fury.

Green mango panna

Or shakes from Rallies.

Being kissed by your evening breeze

At Princep or at Outram  ghat

With a friend and   ghati- garam…….

I wish I could forever sweat

And feel soggy in your summer’s glory.

Adorned in jamdani,

Jewellery and perfumed peonies;

Welcoming Ma Durga and her family.

Your face glittering in the amber dusk,

Her face glowing in some ethereal gleam.

Our queueing up for Her one glance ,

At College Square, Ekdalia or Babubagan.

A zealous digression from mundane monotony:

Meeting old friends at Madox square,

Strumming the tunes of homecoming.

Oh Kolkata! How much I long to be

A part of this cacophony.

Sugar coated Park Street

Celebrating the birth of Christ;

Kindling lamps of joy and hope,

The mass at mid-night.

Singing hymns of universal peace,

In chorus we muse and frolic,

Time for plum cakes, wine and cherries.

Dear Santa! Could you bring me a gift?

The candies of my city’s serendipity!

Kolkata……

My heart shall always be with you,

The haunt of my fondest memories.

  

Hampi (A curious Juxtaposition of Historical Importance and Rustic Beauty)

Packed in three cars we started our road trip to Hampi on 1^st January,2016.Our basic objective was to unwind with family and friends in a new environment. What environment? We were yet to explore.

All that we learnt about Hampi from Wikipedia------ it is a U.N.E.S.C.O. world heritage site in the northern part of Karnataka popularly known as “ group of monuments in Hampi”. The monuments were mostly temples carved out of rocks which form an integral part of the topography of the place. The rest was ambiguous to us.

Brimming with anticipations we started from Hyderabad at 7 in the morning.  After a breakfast break, lunch break, chai break and bumpy ride we reached Hampi around 7pm. We had booked our hotel at Hospet which was another half an hour from there.

After reaching the hotel we realised that there was a huge influx of boarders. On one hand we were glad to have chosen a popular hotel, but on the other hand we were slightly disappointed with their crowd management skills. And we felt the brunt of it at the restaurant. The fatigued waiters were not able to make sitting arrangements-----behave courteously-------supply food on time. But the last nail on the coffin was serving Screwdriver in guava juice. Nevertheless, a good company compensated for all these negatives. Therefore, we had joy, we had fun and anxiously awaited for the next day to bring us a lot of seasons in the sun.

Day 2, was a bright sunny day which I started by buying hand painted t-shirts with a Hampi architecture imprinted on it.

 Our day’s agenda was sight-seeing.  We decided to drive our vehicles from our hotel to the main auto stand by following Google Maps. But we got lost. Then we resorted to the good old method of asking people. It worked. As planned, we hired autos and explored the various monuments that were built around 16 century AD. The word Hampi means “ Champion”. And the

architecture does not udermine its name. It was the capital of Vijaynagar Empire. In 1500 AD it was said to be the world’s second largest and richest city.  With the passage of time, like all other ancient kingdoms, Hampi also lost its glory. Now all that is left , are these monolithic monuments jutting out in rural
background. That too has a rustic charm.

Our trip had yet another charm. The charm of travelling in a group. From this trip I learnt, how unique each person is could be best understood only when they are clustered together. For example:While one person preferred nature over architecture, the other liked otherwise. One of our group members had to take an online test. In spite of his love for travelling, he had to excuse himself in the middle. There were also some parents in our group who had to frantically chase their toddlers, whereas some enthusiastic senior citizen went haywire. Our group also had a passionate photographer who was engrossed in capturing the moments and a curious connoisseur who never missed a chance to admire the beautiful artefacts intricately etched out of marble rock displayed for sale . Thankfully, we as well had a couple of sane people in our group who believed in sticking together and making the most out of it. Anyway, even the rainbow has seven distinct colours. Still, all the colours stay together.  So much like us. Because of difference in personalities and obligations we might have got scattered here and there, but each time we got back, we got together, again and again like a rainbow, bringing joy not only to our hearts but in each other’s life as well.

Our day ended in one of our hotel rooms----- merry making, chit chatting, playing antakshari----- in another word, celebrating the new year, the way we wanted to.

Day3 was a Sunday. We had planned to start by afternoon in order to cope with the following Monday. But still we had some more spirit left in ourselves. Therefore, instead of considering it as a half day less, we decided to utilize it as a half day full. On the previous day we did not find time to visit VirupakshaTemple, one of the most important temples of  Vijaynagar Dynasty. So we decided to see it before we left Hampi.

It was indeed a sprawling campus with a wonderful exposition of the then architecture. After feeding bananas to monkeys and Lakshmi (the temple elephant) and taking blessings from the later in exchange of Rs.10, we headed towards the interior of the temple which was occupied by a man-made lake enclosed on all four sides by tiers of steps. Just beside it we noticed few giant size cane baskets.

After inquiry we came to know that they were coracles….local boats. The man who gave this information also added that few miles from the temple, flowed River Tungabhadra where there was a facility to ride coracle.  This idea triggered the desire for adventure in some of us, where as others decided to go back to the hotel and take rest.

The spot was 10 minutes by auto that was available in front of Virupaksha temple. This was followed by a mini trek of another 10 minutes.  The trek through the rocky terrain and dark caves made a great prelims to the experience we were about to have. On our way to the ghat, we also met a local sculptor, diligently carving forms out of granite and marble.

After reaching the ghat we boarded a coracle. There were eight of us. The water was deep and calm. The sky was clear and the weather was pleasant. There was some divine peace in the atmosphere. The  sailor took us past the cave temples that over looked us  on both sides of the river. The only way to enter these temples was by climbing stairs from the river face. Suddenly I saw a copper statue in one of the temples. I requested our sailor to sail us to that spot. After a little reluctance he directed the coracle to the temple stairs. We climbed up and found instead of copper, it was a stone statue

of the Sun god.  The sun rays that radiating on it gave it the copper hue. He also steered us to the center of the river and to our utter surprise started spinning the coracle. What a wonderful experience it was! It  will always remain in my heart  as one of the most memorable moments of my life. 

                                                                                                   

Our coracle ride was the cherry on the cake. Our trip would not have been as memorable if we had not gone out of our plan to take this coracle ride. We got late. But the disruption was worth it.

During our drive back home, we were ruminating on our trip. Suddenly a thought came in one of our minds: “ What if we took a coracle ride at night?”

What if you and I went on a Coracle ride:

On a temperate moon lit night?

Like those aimless gloomy clouds

Meandering across the stony Temples

Etched on the rocky cliffs:

Mystic in the glimmering aura,

Of Twinkling fireflies;

Watching us like ancient guardians

Awaiting the sunshine.

While Our coracle floating

like a lotus leaf

on the sleepy Tungabhadra.

We, as drops of silent observers

In the divine aqua tune 

With dreamy eyes ,rolling on it,

Musing in trance of the sight:

Of silver silhouettes

Making dance poses 

And playing hide and seek 

With their images on the rippling streaks.

In quietness we would row our coracle

For quietness is all we want

And who would like to ping or speak?

When silence is so eloquent,

In Singing lullaby of eternal bliss.

Till we dose off 

To the land of lotus eaters....

Intoxicated by the sweet smell 

Of mud drenched water....

What if.....What if.....

Would it be as enigmatic......

Or even better?

                           Afterall: 

 " Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

                         Are sweeter;”*

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* Ode on a Grecian Urn by John Keats

Picture courtesy Boudhaayan Paul