The wisdom of age: don't stop walking.

The redoubtable, wonderful Sushil Tanwar of Ashadeep and I are taking Shimla for a walk today. The idea is to remind Shimla of its old tradition of walking. How great was this, how good for the health of its denzins, and for its pure air which never carried anything more than the fragrance of the evergreens and wild flowers growing by its roadsides. 

Wish us luck, dear reader, that we are at least able to light a flicker of awareness in the residents our beloved town which is so beautiful and so generous. 

As always, I cannot leave you without quoting some verse!

I look and look

Looking's a way of being: one becomes

sometimes, a pair of walking.

Walking wherever one's looking takes one. 

The eyes

dig and burrow into the world.

They touch

fanfare, howl, madrigal, clamour.

World and the past of it,not only 

visible present, solid and shadow

that looks at one looking.

And language? Rhythms

of echo and interruption?

That's a way of breathing

breathing

to sustain

looking

walking and looking,

through the world

in it. 

~ Denise Levertov ~  

Solvitur ambulando

“Solvitur ambulando”. It is solved by walking, goes the Latin saying, and never was a truer word spoken. 

Walking is an excellent means to de-stress yourself, to re-energise, to stretch, tone and relax, to acquire poise and focus, and indeed, activate the natural healing energies within yourself. A Zen master was asked, “What is the Tao?”. “Walk on”, he replied. The human body is the ultimate exercise machine, and walking is the easiest, cheapest and safest way to burn away the harmful effects of stress and to bring back energy into your life. People often say to me “But where do I begin?”. Well, you just have to step out of home, go for a walk to the nearest park, or walk around the block. How far you go, or how fast you walk is not relevant. The important thing is to begin.

Here are some basic steps to follow:

• ·         Poor posture is more often than not the culprit behind many a body problem. It saps our body of vitality and puts a stress on all our vital organs. So first off, think tall. Imagine that someone has run a string through you and is gently pulling you upwards. When you walk, keep your back straight, pull in your stomach and tuck in your buttocks. Your shoulders should be pulled gently back, but relaxed, your eyes looking forward.
• ·         “It don’t mean a thing, if it ain’t got the swing”, went an old Irving Mills song. This is true of walking too. Walk tall from your heel upwards. Have a smooth, rolling heel-to-toe motion. Lengthen your stride to as much as is comfortable. Swing your arms in opposite motion. Remember the mantra “heel-toe… heel-toe… heel-toe”!
• ·         If you can afford it, invest in an iPod or a mobile phone which can play music. Music adds rhythm, energy and tempo to the walk. Mix the musical pieces to change your stride. However, remember that headphones may block out sounds of traffic and other dangers on the road. Be careful not to use earphones when walking late evening, or in lonely spots as it may make you unmindful of strangers with bad intent.
• ·         Oxygen is free! Use as much as you can. Energise your walks by gradually increasing the speed. Remember, the speed should not be so high as to spoil your natural rhythm. Walk several paces at normal speed, then pick up speed and gradually reduce speed again. This helps prevent injuries such as pulled muscles. Do not push yourself too hard. A good test to see if you are going too fast: can you have a conversation without getting out of breath.
• ·         Your feet carry all your weight. Be kind to them. Buy yourself a good, comfortable pair of shoes. My personal trick for testing comfort is to buy shoes at the end of a day. You see, by evening, feet are tired and sometimes gently swollen. When you try a new pair, always check whether there is enough space around the toes. Don’t fall for sales talk which tells you about how shoes will stretch – they never do! If a shoe is not comfortable, it’s not for you.
• ·         Don’t let walking become a chore. “Roamertherapy” is a great way to live a quieter, simpler life. If you have children, or a dog, take them on any weekend for an impromptu walk to a scenic spot. Let Nature work its magic on you, stand and stare, climb up, down, just stand and stare. This does not have to always be about achievement, just about slowly savouring peace and beauty.
• ·         I also love ‘’walktalk’’ therapy. In troubled times, it is great to go for a walk with a friend. A walk in the woods, or by the sea, or just about anywhere all the while talking away your troubles can be better than expensive therapy, or drowning your sorrows in alcohol or drugs! Take your partner, your children or a friend out for a walk – and watch your depression evaporate.
• ·         Weather or not, just walk! Don’t let the extremes of weather faze you. Observe the changes of the season and prepare accordingly. In summer, set your alarm for early and enjoy the early-morning coolness before heat sets in. Wear light-coloured cotton clothes which reflect the heat. In winter, cover up your extremities and wear light layers which you can add or remove. Follow your inner light. Ignore negative self-talk which says “It’s so much better to catch those 15 minutes of extra sleep”, or “why go out into the cold when you can be comfy at home?”
• ·         I love walking meditation. The idea is to nurture mindfulness and self-awareness. Savour the sights and sounds around you. Open your mind to a beautiful sunrise, to the chirping of birds, to the laughter of children. Consciously empty your mind of all thoughts, focusing only on your stride, your rhythm and on your breathing. Count your paces if you find it hard to focus. Breathe in and out at each pace. If your mind wanders, let it do so. Allow thoughts to come in, welcome their presence, then let them go. Bring your thoughts back to the number of paces you have covered.

     

W  We lead sluggish lives most of the time. We think that working a lot, or simply rushing about from place to place equals activity. The truth is that our heart  rarely gets to pump hard. Oxygen rarely courses through us they way it ought to – making us feel alive, energetic and vital. But exercise can change all that. Walking can change all that! 

T   The  beauty lies in simply walking without bothering about destinations or goals. Thich Nhat Hanh says “Your steps are the most important thing.” Forget about removing stress, losing weight, finding energy or any of those things. The important thing is to simply focus on your steps. Take one little step at a time, whether on your walk, or in your life.

And you will see – solvitur ambulando!

Through the silence shines a stretching light-

Living in Shimla, one often takes this humble bush for granted. For all of Septmeber and now, when e are well into October, this pretty blue plant is dotting the road-sides, clinging to hill-sides, creating a veritable sea of blue in the woods. At first glance, I thought these were gentians. But my favourite website on flowers Flowers of India clarifies that this is not so.

These flowers actually bleong to the blue trumpet bush, also known as strobilanthes tomentosa. I've seen it grow in the woody, partially-lit slopes of the Sheogh woods, in Chaura Maidan and also near the United Service Club on Jakhoo Hill. It grows up to almost four feet in height. The leaves appeared very interesting: dark green on top and white on the underside.

The flower, as you can see in the picture, is shaped like a trumpet and stands at a 90-degree angle to its stem. It has a narrow tube which widens a little as it goes upward, finally opening into five round petals.

What a joyous aspect: little trumpets of bright blue, silently blowing the last clarion call of spring even as it is over and autumn steals upon us quietly, with a red melancholy....

The sight of these flowers brought to mind that wonderful Mary Oliver poem:

Every day

I see or hear

something

that more or less

kills me

with delight,

that leaves me

like a needle

in the haystack

of light.

It was what I was born for -

to look, to listen,

to lose myself

inside this soft world -

to instruct myself

over and over

in joy,

and acclamation.

Nor am I talking,

about the exceptional.

the fearful, the dreadful,

the very extravagant -

but of the ordinary,

the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.

Oh, good scholar,

I say to myself,

how can you help

but grow wise

with such teachings

as these -

the untrimmable light

of the world,

the ocean's shine,

the prayers that are made

out of grass?

The pedigree of Honey, Does not concern the Bee.

I love Emily Dickinson and am proud to share with her a love of nature and an excessive fondness for bees! Yesterday, while walking in the woods, I came across so many burly dozing ones, honey-heavy, bees fluttering from flower to flower, truly justifying the metaphor busy as a bee. I love the sight of a bee, how cleverly it suspends itself mid-air, its gossamer-thin wings supporting the weight of its body, greedily sipping nectar from a flower and yet never ever trampling the petals or crushing the aroma.... Emerson calls the bee a "zig-zag steerer, desert cheerer". Truly, he's a sailor of the atmosphere, sailing through the air and a yellow-breeched philosopher.... 

His labour is a Chant —

His Idleness — A Tune 

Oh, for a Bee's Experience 

Of Clovers, and of Noon! 

The Bee is not afraid of me.

I know the Butterfly. 

The pretty people in the Woods 

receive me cordially! 

And then there is that wonderful haiku by the master himself - Matsuo Basho: 


A bee
staggers out 
of the peony.

The Shimla Class

Next in the series of guest posts on Shimla Gallimaufry is one by Varsha. 

Varsha writes a superb, deeply knowledgeable and really useful blog titled Wholesome Options. From Varsha, I have learnt to look at wellness as a way of life, learnt that healthy habits and fitness can be incorporated in daily life without any sacrifice or extra effort. Aside of being a full-time mother and wife, a wellness guru and a fitness maniac, Varsha also takes a wonderful Poetic Break from her bureaucratic life every now and then. She speaks here of lessons learnt from our common love, Shimla: 

The Shimla Class

Hills have a way of teaching you to slow down.

Of drawing you in the web of alluring sunsets, sun-dappled valleys and mist draped mountains. Of using that oldest means of transportation – your legs. And escaping at least partly from the whizzing world of honking cars and seething road-rage.

When I recall my Shimla days my best memories are about nature.

I was living with a bunch of strong-willed and rambunctious colleagues in extremely cramped quarters. Tempers frequently got frayed and patience wore thin. Walks were a way of escape-getting away from it all- initially. They became a balm and an addiction soon. A way of tucking in the splendid perfection of the Himalayas in different seasons and moods.

What did I learn in the Shimla Class (presided over by the old man Himalayas)?

Putting things in perspective.

I was incredibly lucky to be able to see the glorious Himalayas from my window on waking up each morning,

They always overwhelmed me. They gently reminded me everyday that I was not that important, my petty problems were not that important, nor were the shiny trophies of the rat race that important. The mountains would stand there even if the damned deadline was not met or if I did not ace some silly test.

The art of Appreciating beauty.

In Shimla, it was so easy to meet the perfect creamy rose-bud or a round, plump wild strawberry, a  sudden stream bubbling after the rains, an old friendly tree, clad  one fine day in magnificent bloom, a spectacular evening live show of the thrust and parry of the dying sunset and the ascending night. One had to stand and savour it reverentially. I learnt that when you see perfection – you must acknowledge it.

When we move in the bubbles of our own self-importance and obsessions, we become far too busy and blind to beauty around us. We must open our eyes, see it and savour it.

The art of inner Quiet.

Shimla also taught me to have a holy communion with nature. To get away from the noise around me I needed an inner quiet. I learnt being quiet with myself, by myself, for myself.

The art of appreciating History around you.

Any walk around Shimla is full of heritage and History. One keeps coming across rambling cottages with quaint names and distinguished ex-residents. There are majestic buildings scattered over the place. Steeped with tales of a faded era and set against the backdrop of the timeless Himalayas these gems of a bygone age taught me to appreciate History as well as the blip that my small lifetime is in it all.

Let prayer be fire: admire, re-light, relate, regain.

Victor Hugo once observed that certain thoughts are prayers. There are certain moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees. Today, gentle reader, your blogger turned another year older. Today, I'm praying. Not asking, merely expressing a longing of the soul. Making candid demands of The One Above that I usually don't, when I pray. 

The following lines are from M. M. Kaye's "Far Pavilions". This is a prayer uttered by Ash as he looks at Door Khaima, the mountain peaks at a distance which give him solace and hope and heart's ease: 

"Oh Lord, forgive these sins that are due to my human limitations. 

Thou art everywhere, but I worship Thee here;  

Thou art without form, but I worship Thee in this form; 

Thou needest no praise, yet I offer Thee these prayers and salutations. 

Lord, forgive my sins that are due to my human limitations."

For Asha to have a safe journey free of worries. 

For Phil to recover her health completely. 


For Hannah, success in her interview.

For Prabha, heart's ease. 

For A, a visa. 

For Ranjani, the time to do the things she wants to. 

For Varsha to have intelligent and sensible people around her.

For Naheed, also a visa. 

For Rani, peace and good health. 

For Varun, success in all he does. 

For H, resolution and closure. 

For Chinu and Gunjan, success and peace.

For all my family and my friends whom I haven't named here: contentment, good health, joy and abundance. 

A languid atmosphere, a lazy breeze, a dreamy day

Small, shapeless drifts of cloud

Sail slowly northward in the soft-hued sky,

With blur half-tints and rolling summits bright,

By the late sun caressed; slight hazes shroud

All things afar; shineth each leaf anigh

With its own warmth and light.

O'erblown by Southland airs,

The summer landscape basks in utter peace:

In lazy streams the lazy clouds are seen;

Low hills, broad meadows, and large, clear-cut squares

Of ripening corn-fields, rippled by the breeze,

With shifting shade and sheen.

Hark! and you may not hear

A sound less soothing than the rustle cool

Of swaying leaves, the steady wiry drone

Of unseen crickets, sudden chirpings clear

Of happy birds, the tinkle of the pool,

Chafed by a single stone.

What vague, delicious dreams,

Born of this golden hour of afternoon,

And air balm-freighted, fill the soul with bliss,

Transpierced like yonder clouds with lustrous gleams,

Fantastic, brief as they, and, like them, spun

Of gilded nothingness!

All things are well with her.

'T is good to be alive, to see the light

That plays upon the grass, to feel (and sigh

With perfect pleasure) the mild breezes stir

Among the garden roses, red and white,

With whiffs of fragrancy.

There is no troublous thought,

No painful memory, no grave regret,

To mar the sweet suggestions of the hour:

The soul, at peace, reflects the peace without,

Forgetting grief as sunset skies forget

The morning's transient shower.

Emma Lazarus

Bring the pure wine of love and freedom.

I sipped some of love's sweet wine,

and now I am ill. My body aches,

my fever is high.

They called in the doctor and he said,

drink this tea!

Ok, time to drink this tea.

He said, Take these pills!

Ok, time to take these pills.

The doctor said,

And get rid of the sweet wine of love's lips!

Ok, time to get rid of the doctor.

~ Jalaluddin Rumi ~

The powerful, fortress'd house...

Gondhla is a pretty little, topsy-turvy village located on the banks of the River Chandra. About 18 kilometres along the way from Keylong to Manali, crane your neck out from the window of your bus or car, and you will spot this gorgeous fort considerably off the right side of the road.

A rugged pile, you notice the timber-bonded pattern which is typical of Himachal's forts and castles. Penelope Chetwode observed that this structure was common to both sacred as well as secular buildings. Stone and timber alternate in layers in these walls and are held together by clay. Experts say that it is this style which protected the tall edifices from seismic shocks. Apparently, the absence of mortar between the dressed stone, according to Chetwode, allowed the walls the chance to quiver with the quake instead of opposing the earthquake's movements. What a simple, yet ingenuous solution!

Displaying another typical feature of Himachali forts, a wooden gallery runs around the top floor. I am guessing that this would have served the local ruler to conduct public audience, though what he would have actually heard of his people's grievances is anybody's guess! Certainly, the height of this lovely old building inspires a sense of awe. The very act of craning one's neck upwards makes one aware of one's small size in relation to the fortress.

There are wonderful little windows with intricate bars across them. Great for looking out, but impossible to look into. I am sure they would have served the women who lived there well, considering how little airing women of royal families got in those days! The wooden frames of the windows are delicately carved with geometric and floral motifs.

The related page of the Lahaul & Spiti District Administration describes the interiors and its wonderful contents. But the sad fact is that in the middle of 2010, my friend SdS and I found rubble all around the fort, the main door locked with masonry fallen over it. Bits of the little "kharokhas" - the little wooden balconies projecting out of the windows - have crumbled, the wood eaten away by termites and by the ravages of weather. Parts of the roof and the top room are also falling away. It is tragic that this wonderful heritage of our state crumbles away before our eyes and all we can do is mourn its passing.

Through this blog, I appeal to anyone who is reading to suggest a way. If nothing, maybe we should petition the Government to protect this building which is, by sarkari accounts, over four hundred years old.

Poetry is a matter of life, not just a matter of language.

"An empty mind is the devil's workshop", I have been repeatedly told since I was a child. Yet, it was on one of those very empty evenings that it struck me that I could invite a friend, or maybe even three friends to write a guest post. The one thing that I love about my friends, whom you shall meet by and by, gentle reader, is that they are always game for an adventure. This is Part 1 of that enterprise.

I've known Asha for longer than I care to remember. She breezed into my life and stayed back as my rock, my sounding board, and the shoulder on which I would cry on countless times.

Asha is an expert trainer and has worked with some of the world's biggest corporations. Deeply interested in issues relating to the development of self, she writes a wonderfully thought-provoking blog called Self Leadership. In her blog, she manages to raise issues that we all need to ponder on, but about which we rarely stop to think systematically.

However, here on my blog, she writes not on leadership or decisions or self-awareness, but moves to our common love, poetry. Her thoughts are placed below:

Let me start off by saying that poetry is not one of my current ‘can-dos’. Would I like to compose poetry? Yes! Have I attempted it? No! Having said that, I love reading poetry and one volume that I’ve perused a few times ia ‘Ariake’ – a collection of poems of love and longing by the women courtiers of Japan.

The foreword by Lisa Dalby summarises ‘Ariake’ as follows: “Ariake or ‘the waning moon at dawn’ was an image associated foremost with love in the ancient courts of Japan. Few societies integrated poetry into daily life as devotedly as the court of Japan’s Heian era (A.D. 794 – 1192). The most renowned poets of this era were women. They were passionate and demonstrative – a far cry from the typical portraits of passive objects of desire drawn by Westerners.”

A few samples from this rather fascinating collection!

Were you a string of beads

I would wind you about my arm,

But since you are a man

Of the actual, mortal world,

You are hard in the winding.

~ The Elder Maiden of the Otomo of Sakanoue ~

Look at this keepsake

And remember me, my love;

All the gem-bright year,

Long as its thread of shining days,

I too shall think of you.

~ Lady Kasa ~

As night succeeds night,

I seek in vain to decide

Where my pillow should go.

How did I sleep on the night

When you appeared in my dream?

~ Anonymous ~

My favourite Indian poet is Sahir Ludhianvi. A deeply passionate man, he lived and died a tortured soul. A genius with words, he demonstrated how a lot could be said with very few words. There are so many of his poems I love, and here is one of them.

Maine jo geet tere pyar ki khatir likhe

Aaj un geeton ko bazaar mein le aaya hoon

Aaj dukan mein neelam uthega unka

Tu ne jin geeton pe rakhi thi mohabbat ki asaas

Aaj chandi ki taraazu mein tulegi har cheez

Mere afkaar, meri shaayari, mera ehsaas

Jo teri zaatse mansoob the un geeton ko

Muflisi jins banaane pe uthar aayi hai

Bhookh, tere rookh-e-rangeen ke fasaano ke ivaz

Chand ashiya-e-zaroorat ki tamannai hai

Dekh is arsaagahe-mehnaton-sarmaaya mein

Mere naghme bhi mere paas nahin reh sakte

Tere jalve kisi zardaar ki meeras sahi

Tere khaake bhi mer paas nahin reh sakte

Aaj un geeton ko bazaar mein le aaya hoon

Maine jo geet tere pyar ki khatir likhe

Last but not the least is a piece from Harold Monro on ‘Solitude’. I know Geetali has done a post on ‘Solitude’ earlier. I picked this out of An Anthology of Modern Verse that was gifted by my friend Irene Hawkins. If you ever come across this post my friend, know that you are in my mind and that I miss you.

When you have tidied all things for the night,

And while your thoughts are fading to their sleep,

You’ll pause a moment in the late firelight,

Too sorrowful to weep.

The large and gentle furniture has stood

In sympathetic silence all the day

With that old kindness of domestic wood;

Nevertheless the haunted room will say:

“Some one must be away”.

The little dog rolls over half awake,

Stretches his paws, yawns, looking up at you,

Wags his tail very slightly for your sake,

That you may feel he is unhappy too.

A distant engine whistles, or the floor

Creaks, or the wandering night-wind bangs a door;

Silence is scattered like a broken glass.

The minutes prick their ears and run about,

Then one by one subside again and pass

Sedately in, monotonously out.

You bend your head and wipe away a tear.

Solitude walks one heavy step more near.