Those Colors that Fill our Lives...

I still can vividly visualize the colors, that I never knew till then, had existed. I can still breath in the crisp winter air, twined so very tightly with the brittle grayish smoke from the crackling wayside firewood. I still can smell the intense aroma of spices, tea and butter, gushing in like a waterfall in its boisterous infancy, from the hidden street corners. I still can feel the warm sandy afternoon winds, running its long grainy fingers through my stubborn brown curls.

It was a pure, unbridled excitement which twinkled in the wide eyes of a 20 year old me then. An excitement that's quiet natural to someone consciously and obsessively fascinated by the beauty in things and thoughts around.

An excitement that took a swift natural birth, as I set to experience the euphoric abundance so much alive in the the bejeweled treasure trove of our country's sheer cultural opulence. An opulence that sat like a lustrous baroque pink pearl, glistening with an undefeatable pride, set deep within the mighty cavernous heart of a rocky clam. An opulence that sat like a bedecked princess, wearing the tiara of immense pride and glory, adorning a throne crafted by the fire of dreams and desires.

Jaipur. No other piece of land on earth has so wildly and intoxicatingly rustled the bliss in me than this city of pink forts and mirrors.

It was purely a decision that my heart took. Entirely. To do a masters in English language and literature, specifically at the School of Letters. A decision which would let me revel doing what I love doing the most. Writing. A natural path, fenced by a fervent passion and heartfelt yearning, chosen by me, ever since I started finding love in the beauty of words, way back in my early teens, having my first travelogue published in a local English newspaper.

It was while at School of Letters that I got selected, to be part of the National Young Poets Workshop, conducted by the Kendra Sahithya Academy ( The National Academy of Letters) at Jaipur, as the only delegate from South India.

What a perfectly rapturous blend! Days that would blend in the beauty of words and the richness of a culture. Like crystal goblets blending in swirls of creamy milk and golden honey!

And there I am, astounded at the splendor of the Pink city, surrounded on all four sides, by forts made of dreams, chiseled to perfection with the most intricate patterns of human imagination. I stood awed, robed in the reds of loftier dreams, greens of loftier emotions, and the sparkling silver of loftier joy.

Jaipur, the outlandish tale-teller that lets loose the most magnificent stories of India's cultural abundance and heritage.

Tales of a valor and integrity unmatched. Stories of our unbelievable scientific intellect. The awe inspiring, pride infusing epic ballads, reminding us of how India used to trade in priceless gemstones and silk as fine as air, when a huge part of the globe was still cold and grey, with the soot and grime of hunting in the wild for a livelihood. Stories of this city, that defined the word 'luxury', at a time when the rest of the world was oblivious of even the existence of such a word!

The mouth gaping story of the gigantic one-piece silver pot weighing more than 350 kilograms, made in the 1800s, for the Maharaja of Jaipur to carry water from the Ganges along with him, wherever he traveled! The 'Palace of Winds' or Hawa Mahal, with almost one thousand intricately carved out windows, made of pink stone! The royal rooms covered in stupendous mirror art! Forts, observatories, palaces beyond human comprehension of luxury, abodes on lakes, abodes on rocky mountains, golden deserts, riotous colors, rustic exuberance, and what not!

What I saw in Jaipur , is something I have never seen elsewhere in the world. Not even at the world's art capital Italy.

More than a need that comes in, once in a while, travel has been almost a routine for me. Perhaps there might be a few fate lines, running through, with 'travel' inked deep on them? From my very early childhood till my early youth, it was very frequent travel through the length and breadth of India, accompanying my mom and dad on their official assignments. After this came in my official assignments, and travel to different countries.

Waking up from between spotless fluffy blankets, to some of the most meticulously made hotel rooms, at heights touching the clouds, and learning to graciously return the smiles, at the plush lobbies, purposely painted to fake warm emotions.

Prying open unrelenting eyelids, at the airports were the sun seldom sets, in the wee hours of morning, aesthetically tugging noiseless cabin bags, while doing precarious catwalks on pointed heels.

Practices that have been relentlessly carried out, time and again, with mechanical perseverance and immaculate precision. Practices that, at a point in time, I forcefully decided to fall in love with.

I love to travel, so that I could come back and recreate the memories and experiences, crystallizing them into gemstone fragments that would last till eternity. And all through the sheer beauty and charisma of words.