Published Poetry: Five New Poems by Snehith Kumbla in the Muse India Journal (Mar-Apr 2018)

Five of my new poems have been published in the Mar-Apr 2018 edition of the prestigious Muse India literary journal. These poems were each written at different times, some pieced together over years, but most of them wrote themselves in one flow.

fear not your loneliness
fear not your cowardice

you in countlessness
you in me-them-us-ness

Ordinariness is about the resignation and defeat to the widespread human nature of routine. Nothing comforts us like routine and nothing unsettles us like attempting new things. The first two lines of the poem were waiting alone in a forgotten notebook for quite some time. It was some years later that other words arrived to complete the train of thought.

a bicycle tinkle
hovers on the
footpath

alone

into the jaws
of gregarious
traffic

Evening Walk, City is about that one stroll among the many post lunch strolls I took around my former workplace. Pune, a charming, nature-rich small town was losing its richness at a rapid rate. In the space of one afternoon, you could witness the blatant destruction and yet go on, unaffected. 

when
it splashes in
dark coated ink
you may yet see
what you are made of

Sadness was written at a low moment, yet there is more to learn from grief than there is ever to imbibe from utter happiness. When one dwells deep in sadness or into any other aspect of life, surprises appear tranquil and dancing to the morning breeze.

right on cue lightning
strikes, genuinely afraid
they embrace for dear life

Late Night TV is a chronicle of perversion, the consequence of a sexually repressed culture. Sex education can make so many young and teenage lives better, but we are eons away from any revolution or insight in that aspect. Widely available porn and provocative content only add to the delusions and blindness.

life is outdoors
in its throbbing
and uncertainties,
pleasured and seething,

Youth Invincible Youth is an ode to age, about embracing reality in all its pain and joy. It is a celebration and teeny weeny nudge to step outdoors, bask in the sunshine, rain, winter,  and spring. It is about moving away from computers and cell phones whenever we can and experience life as the young experience it, in all its purity and freshness.

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: The Summit Climb, Part I (Day #8, Day #9)

Despite the biting cold, it was at the final camp before the Rupin Pass ascent that we really let ourselves go. Snow extended beyond our sight and after a heavy lunch, everybody got to sliding down slopes, making snowballs and having a wild time.

Soon a mega snowball throwing battle ensued and livened up the afternoon, with no two distinct sides. Almost everybody was aiming for everybody else. By early evening, we were icy wet, cold and wrapping ourselves in layers of sweaters and jackets. Extra servings of masala noodles made up for the chilly evening.

The Rupin Pass Summit Climb Begins
The sunlight honeyed over the snow the next morning, it was simply another splendid day for a trek! The organizers provided each one of us with a pair of crampons as an extra grip for our shoes. We began closing in towards Rupin Pass with a collective steadiness. This was the longest stretch of snow we had to tread on so far and it took that additional bit of effort and time.



Overheard: Trek Leader Monologue
Nothing prepared me for the actual summit climb. I didn't know what to expect, despite having checked the Internet (prior to the trek) for detailed images.

Our group awaited our turn to make a beeline for the final climb, while another trekking group went ahead. Before proceeding, the leader of that group was delivering no-nonsense instructions in one loud monologue. "Hold the trekking pole in your right hand.Take one step at a time. If you fall, fall alone, don't hold on to the person beside you, don't fall over the person behind you. OK? Let's go!"

Mountain Wisdom: One Step at Time
Overhearing that conversation gave me the first hints as to what lay between the two vast expanses of jutting snow-smothered rocks. Surely that man was exaggerating. I thought he was basically creating an atmosphere of caution among his group of trekkers. We were soon to find out for ourselves.

I realized then that this epic trek had been so immensely enjoyable because I had not thought about tomorrow or even the next hour for one instant. It had been about taking the next step and nothing else.

I tell you, walking in the mountains for over a week changes you, you will never be the same again. Either you will heed the call to climb the mountains again, or return resigned to your dreary habits and to habitats that we call the cities of India. Among the traffic, chaos, smoke, population crisis, corruption, greed, grime, and carbon soaked air, you will then long for the mountains and suffer.

Suffer then and suffer well. How else will you make it to the mountains again, but with that huge bullet-holed memory in your heart? How will you make it again, but with that desire for deep, eternal calm?   

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Dhanrashi/ Lower Waterfall to Upper Waterfall Camp (Day #8)

Heading past 13000 ft and beyond, a great silence enveloped us like a gentle friend. It was the toughest day of the trek so far and I recall that we didn't speak much that day. Sometimes we urged a lagging person with encouraging words like, "Come on!" And that was that.

Sunlight reflects off snow in a continuous blinding burst at this height, my specially-bought sunglasses really served their purpose over the next two days. Despite the ample food we were eating at the daily stopover camps, many of us were losing their appetite, some were experiencing headaches due to altitude sickness. Nobody fell seriously ill though. The weather continued to be excellent, like a long run of good fortune.

Soon, any sign of vegetation would completely disappear. The geography would be limited to only snow and rocks until the descent.

Lower oxygen levels meant more little breaks. The walking rhythm was a crucial factor now to maintain a certain pace and at the same time for energy retention. Veteran mountain trekkers were more at ease though, with a been there, done that finesse in their movements.

The organizers had decided to set up camp at almost 14000 ft, further away from the Upper Waterfall. We were covering more distance that there was less to cover the next day, the final day of the climb. For we needed all our gathered grit and courage for the upcoming Rupin Pass summit climb. 

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Jakha to Buras Kandi (Day #6)

Words end up as cliches in describing the Himalayas. The Himalayas are best experienced, and the best way to do this is to hike on foot. Though 'development' is already ruining the joy of treks in certain parts of Himachal, the Rupin Pass trek is still unaffected and untamed.

Crossing the log bridge over the stream during the trek to Buras Kandi.

The Photography Addiction  
In reflection, I wish to have taken fewer photographs and let the moment sink in deeper. Yet, that ubiquitous need to photograph and shoot short videos to aid storytelling later back home got the better of me. Still, I think I was judiciously enough to not use the cell phone camera all the time, except at select places and enjoy the trip raw and first-hand, for most of its duration. The best moments happened when the cell phone was tucked away safely in my backpack.

A Fragile Coexistence 
Gurgling with force, flowing with vigor, one feels transported to the making of the world, the time when humans were yet to conquer the earth with an insatiable greed, the time when nature was king and queen. Nature still rules in the Himalayas, but it is a fragile co-existence, as we witnessed in later sections of the trek.

An Ancient Route
The Rupin Pass trek route is a traditional path that dates back to more than 800 years. Shepherds are known to be the originators of this route, leading their mountain goats through the mountain passes, snow tops, and valleys for many generations now. Mountain goats and shepherds were our companions right up to the Rupin Pass summit climb.   

Behold! The first sight of snow! Yes, I finally get to see the first snow of my lifetime! The mountain is farther away than it looks, hazy and mysterious even on a sunlit day.

My first touch of snow, duly documented during the acclimatization climb at Buras Kandi, as melting on the top of my finger. This is not fresh snow, the feel of it is like ice kept in a deep freezer for an entire season and then sprayed on the mountains as some kiddish mischief. My first snow trek was to follow the next day.

One of our porters rests under a twisted tree.The organizers pick a great place to camp as always at Buras Kandi. It has been a grueling but rewarding day of trekking. As we continue to gain height, now camping at over 11,000 ft, the scenery is more breathtaking.

Mountains loom over us like benign giants and the upper and lower waterfalls come into view. It's an epic setting, for some seconds it seems unreal. A couple of months ago it was highly unlikely for me to be here, yet here I was.      

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Sewa To Jakha (Day #5)

Bright clear day, and as fellow trekkers had suggested, one doesn't need layers of clothing while trekking during these initial days. The body generates enough heat for one to trek with just a t-shirt and a pair of trousers. The thermals, sweaters, gloves were required in the evenings and while sleeping in the camping tents. We were yet to get our first glimpse of snow.

Wild, untouched, greenery. The air is abundant with a richness of oxygen and life teems here unhindered, except on the rocky, trodden path.

Again, we were warned not to drink too much of the ice-cold water from the passing streams, because there was the danger of falling sick from a stomach ache, and resultant disastrous effects related to the bowel movement.

We rest for a few minutes en route to the hanging village of Jakha. At Jakha, no construction touches the earth, every wooden house and construction stands above the ground, supported by sturdy wooden pillars giving the village its name.

The Card Players of Jakha 
We reach Jakha in the afternoon. I find a group of village men engaged in a leisurely card game and strike a conversation.

The gentleman on the left, speaks of his winter trip to Pune a year ago (and about liking it immensely). He clearly didn't witness Pune's chaotic traffic. Along with a group of villagers from Himachal Pradesh he also visited legendary activist Anna Hazare's village Ralegan Siddhi during the trip, underwent training in water conservation and sustainable agriculture techniques.

He clearly didn't like the trip to Mumbai. Understandably. Our conversation extended in bits and parts, unhurried. He was mulling over his next hand in the card game and speaking when it pleased him. Only the afternoon and its goings concerned him. There was no cell phone or watch to contemplate over. There was nowhere to rush to, a lull surrounded the mountains as evening fell. Now that is what a laid-back life really means.

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Introductions, First Steps (Day #3, Day #4)

An evening of introductions commenced and a clear, astounding picture emerged of my fellow trekkers. I was among Limca and Guinness Book Record holders, individuals delving in their passion for photography, cycling, yoga, boxing, marathons, teaching and other pursuits. This was one varied group, many among us fiercely independent and self-sufficient.

We had a cozy home stay here at Dhaula. Post dinner some of us retired early, comfortably cocooned in our sleeping bags. The rest engaged in several enjoyable rounds of card games and conversations, before sleeping in late.

Dhaula to Sewa
Wednesday morning brought apprehensiveness, tea, and rain. Experienced co-trekkers had already mentioned about the utter discomfort of trekking in a Himalayan downpour. The drops feel like needles, they said, and you would rather wish to be somewhere else when that happened.

But wondrously, as the local hosts had prophesied, the skies soon cleared. We began our trek with what was to become a rousing daily practice, hailing out a battle call in praise of Chhatrapati Shivaji, the legendary Maratha king.

Along the Rupin River
A long and leisurely day of trekking followed. There was barely any significant altitude gain, the scenery was breathtaking. Clouds floated by mimicking lazy travelers, a gigantic cloud wedged itself into a valley.

To the omnipresent roar of the Rupin river, we passed cute, curious children calling out, "Hello." Some of the kids hailed us in shrill voices, asking for chocolate. Chocolate distribution, group photo sessions and nibbling on local village store lollipops followed.

By 1 pm, we were at Sewa for another home stay. A long gorgeous afternoon and evening lay before us, as we placed our bags in the wooden-floored rooms, washed and refreshed ourselves. What a lovely beginning and no stinging rain as yet. Hurrah!  

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Dog Run (Day #3)

Caution: The first paragraph may disgust some readers. Reader discretion advised.

The horror of horrors, three hours into the ride, once the rickety bus started snaking through the high mountain curves, the scenery dimmed in my eyes. Suddenly, I couldn't wait for the journey to end.

Nausea took over and I placed myself strategically by the window for the rest of the bus ride. My lively co-passengers slowly melted away from my notice. It was a kind of a temporary self-quarantine. By the time we reached Dhaula by around 5 pm, I had mastered the art of setting myself up by a bus window for a good vomit trajectory, polished my skill of doing so without causing any widespread disgust. Uh, ah, ow.

First Base 
We alighted at Dhaula and waited for the organizers to arrange for the jeeps to take us to the base camp. A few members petted and pampered the local dogs. The dogs were all flowing hair, bushy-tailed, fearless and robust. The mountain air perked me up, by the time we boarded different jeeps, the towering oaks, pines, a river flowing to the left and a steady drizzle brought me home to the trip again.

Dog Run
Something out of the ordinary occurred on the ride to our first camp. One of the local dogs began chasing our vehicles in one steady, strong run. This was no casual chase. The dog kept up with the vehicle's speed and moved to a sprint, tirelessly. After almost five kilometers did the dog cease at a settlement, more out of instinct and curiosity it seemed, or perhaps in catching a delicious aroma. It was one extraordinary run, a touch of the predatory in it, riveting to the eye.

It was still raining when we reached our first camp, post a 30-minute ride. Rain, not a good sign for the trip, if not ominous. Tea was served from a smoky kettle, hot fried snacks served as we watched the drops mingle with the wild green below.

A cell phone grab of the dog run

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Dehradun to Dhaula (Day #3)

Inches Away From a Free Fall

We were 22 on the bus from Dehradun to Dhaula that morning, apart from the local guides and the driver.

We pass the Indian Military Academy with the cadets in full uniform, the stomp of shoes and dark beige resplendent colors at a grand parade. The remnants of small-town Dehradun is swiftly left behind.

But the journey really began when the road became precarious and we steadily gained height. A river roared way down below us. Trees, always a balm in vision. The mountains appeared, looming, not gigantic, but green, forested and beautiful. Anytime I looked to the left, the tires were inches away from a free fall.

The journey began when the danger and uncertainty became apparent.

The Rupin Pass Himalayas Trek May-June 2017: Chair Car Blues (Day #2)

The wonders of the English language evident on the bus inscriptions

Pune - Delhi - Dehradun
Sunday: The NINE board the train to Delhi with ONE trek leader. We indulge in idling, small talk, sleep, sweat, rain, cards, guessing games and songs from a Bluetooth speaker (Aaj Jaane Ki Zidd Na Karo and other hits). Our group includes a champion sleeper and lover of economics, restless boxer and potential writer, 16-year-old veteran Himalayan trekker, rookie trekker, teacher, doctor-to-be. software engineer, beautiful girls, blah, blah, blah.

Monday: Morning rain brings respite during the train journey.The NINE alight at Delhi, a bit late, but on schedule to catch the train to Dehradun. 

Great Expectations 

Barring four people, who are to join us at Dehradun, the rest of us met up at the concerned platform. The organizers have booked a chair car compartment for the 9-hour journey.

The thing about chair car compartments is, suddenly, there is nothing much to do. You may well be in your drawing room. Each to their own. Of course, you can move about the passage to the main entrance. After some time, potato chips and other packed snacks get passed and munched on. Selfies and group photo sessions follow.

Though I have grabbed a coveted window seat again, there is not a single splendid view. I don't know if it happens to other first-time Himalayan trekkers. We expect to see mountains everywhere, anywhere we can set eyes on. It's like your first day jogging. You sweat, you pant, get home and almost involuntarily check in the mirror if your stomach has magically receded into a six-pack.

Dehradun, At Last 
Afternoon turns to evening and evening to dusk. The train finally crawls to Dehradun sometime beyond 10.30 pm.We amble, bags in tow, in a single line, first for a late dinner at a little eatery and then trudge to the reserved hotel.

Rooms are allocated on a sharing basis. It's nice to spread out on the bed after a long day's journey. We are not to sleep in a bed or bath again over the following week. Dehradun is bearably cool, comfortable, quiet and mosquito-free for a good night's rest. There's still a day's travel between us and the first trek camp.

Next Episode: The Bus from Dehradun

Published Poetry: 'Eco-Friendly Homes' and 'Long Live Routine!'

I have lately resumed submitting my poems to online literary magazines for publication. Two of my poems were recently published on Indian Periodical, an independent online opinion-based magazine, that also features fiction and poetry.

Here are the links to the published poems:  

ECO-FRIENDLY HOMES

LONG LIVE ROUTINE! 

A Sinhgad Sunday

Gulmohars, Early Morning, Ho!

Early morning light drips on a bare tree and a full-bloomed Gulmohar. 

Pune City View: The Katraj-Sinhagad Trek, Apr 2017

Pune city view during the epic Katraj-Sinhagad night trek. Some may call this an awesome view, but for me, it was an alarming sight. Then you look up at the star flooded sky, feel the heavy cool breeze flow through you and are comforted... 

Gulmohars, Barred!

Gulmohars, Yo!

Summer Tree, Lal Bagh, March 2017

Cats, Bangalore, March 2017

Lal Bagh, Bangalore, March 2017

Dog Story: Summer Murkiness

Cats Sleeping, March 2017