c u on top - satyabrata dam

Nearly a week ago I returned from a climb, which under normal conditions should have been no more than a walk in the park; yet I returned with first degree frost bite in my digits, the last two fingers of my right palm numb and black in particular. How did that happen is the gist of this story. With daily dousing of digits in warm water, constant rubbing and sunning them, the worst is over and I can type now albeit phlegmatically, so today I will take you all back up into my world; a world from where I had been absent for quite some time. The area and the trail that I am about to reveal here are places I don’t want people to go, at least not those who litter mountain wilderness with plastic and rubbish and who play loud music or go in herds; so no names will be given, or fictitiously when given. Those who know me well and have read my earlier stories would perhaps be able to guess anyway. Now to begin with how the seed of this trip came along… Over the entire October followed by

What is a story? Is it only a collection of memories, fact or fictional, emotive, evocative, startling or banal at times, or memorable or just plain recounting of events as they happened; an eyewitness account of incidents, places, people, atmosphere, smells, feelings, emotions… I have told you many stories both in my verbosity and in my silence through my blog, columns, features and this time too there’s so much to tell and to share, but however we may wish to share or want to hear, the stories would never end, because all stories even when they are worthy of telling, are never told. Thus would be the fate of many such stories of my recent European trip, where within the span of nearly six weeks I flashed through eight countries, briefly touching a ninth; following much of the tourist trails where I have never walked before, and also to some spots where few ever walk upon. So the first story that I wish to put up here is a summary, a tiny nutshell that kind of encompasses and even d

I have barely few hours left: not of this life (don’t panic!) but before my European saga comes to its predestined conclusion. I am in Rome right now, tapping these words out, and my flight to Delhi departs in few hours. Zipping all over through 8 different countries and perhaps 50 odd places, crossing language and culture zones and time zone once I met and befriended an incredible number of people, visited places I wouldn’t have dreamt of visiting before or hence. And today as I try to recall exactly what all had happened during the past 40 days or so, I find that my mind predominantly and primarily keeps going back to the people who made it possible; so I begin my tale by acknowledging the ones I still remember and the ones my mind can’t recall now, but if they ever come across this post, they would know that they are acknowledged in spirit if not by individual names. My deepest gratitude to all my friends, both old and new ones I made this time, and for all the kindness, generosit