Why this blog is called "Gallimaufry".
gal-uh-MAW-free\, noun.
Originally meaning "a hash of various kinds of meats," "gallimaufry" comes from French galimafrée; in Old French, from the word galer, "to rejoice, to make merry"; in old English: gala + mafrer: "to eat much," and from Medieval Dutch maffelen: "to open one's mouth wide."
It's also a dish made by hashing up odds and ends of food; a heterogeneous mixture; a hodge-podge; a ragout; a confused jumble; a ridiculous medley; a promiscuous (!) assemblage of persons.
Those of you who know me, will, I’m sure, understand how well some of these phrases (barring the "promiscuous" bit!) fit me.
More importantly, this blog is an ode to my love for Shimla. I hope to show you this little town through my eyes. If you don't see too many people in it, forgive me, because I'm a little chary of turning this into a human zoo.
Stop by for a spell, look at my pictures, ask me questions about Shimla, if you wish. I shall try and answer them as best as I can. Let's be friends for a while....
2 comments:
Having trekked in these lands, I can understand the emotion expressed.
It was about a two decades ago, when my journey of discovering this wilderness crystallized.
The camera only caught the colours of a spring breaking in this high altitude area, the air, the water, the fragrances and the food eaten had all to be lived to really appreciate the beauty of Spiti.
With only a Gorkha guide on Kunzam Top that June morning in 1990, I could not trek it to Chandertal and had to join two other Lahauli young men for a long trek through the valley to Gramphu.
My dream was only broken after we crossed over Rohtang and caught up with tourists in Marhi, dancing away on a glacier to trash music blaring through a portable cassette player.
The peace, the struggle the calmness of the mountains and the agility of Chandra river at its birth place has been tucked away safe from being eroded by time.
Ravinder-ji, thank you for posting a comment on this page. I went to Spiti in August 2007 & came back with my sweet dreams smashed to smithereens. Civilisation has marched right up to the edge of Chandrataal: fuel fumes foul the air, plastic chokes the little stream flowing out of the magical lake & the sound of vehicles rents the air.
It's a tragedy unfolding rapidly.
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