Thoughts flow without notice, without warning, and often without much of a rational connect with the mood of the place from where they emerge.  The thought of writing a blog, which had struck me years ago when Digital India was in its infancy, reemerged in my mind a few days ago.  I was seated in the government guest house at Chatpal, (Anantnag-Chitergul road, Southern Kashmir, about 2123 kms away from Mumbai where I live).  I was on a vacation with my husband, miles away from my workplace and work-related thoughts.  The Midday culture column was not on my mind, neither any family commitments.  My mind was free to appreciate the curative sound of the flowing Neelum. We were in the non-interfering company of grazing sheep and horses, and a shepherding Gujjar family which had taken a temporary forest stop enroute Jammu. Our meals were taken care of and no mundane worries — aquaguard servicing or voter registration — had a place in the scheme of things.  The on-off electric supply in no way affected the sparkle of being in one of the secluded, serene and raw spots in Kashmir.  The motorable road ended at Chatpal, beyond which the glory of the mountains took over.

 

As I marveled at the advancing sunset, the idea of blogging my thoughts grew stronger – the need to journal stray thoughts, observations and ideas that I do not document in my journalistic work. I wanted a space where I could write about the movies and plays that I do not necessarily review. I wanted to document interesting trends in my Mahim-Matunga neighborhood that are worth sharing; also write about people who have fresh takes on everyday realities.  I also wanted to document my travels, which I believe bring great learnings. My Thought Haversack, as I call the blog, was therefore going to be a mix of comment, anecdote and recall – it was a reflection on life, as I see it.

Coming back to Chatpal, there is an aspect I wish to highlight.  If Chatpal is on your bucket list of destinations, you will be welcomed by the locals.  They will willingly pose for your selfies, the handful of families in the village will offer you salty non tea; you can savor the clean milky-white water of Neelum.  For fish lovers, the Trout in the area is a joyous treat. A morning trek to the mountain top offers the best form of oxygen.  But as you soak in the greenery, do not treat Chatpal to toxic loads of plastic. 

As we entered the PWD guest house, one of the few properties where tourists can spend the night, plastic wrappings, bottles, sachets, silver foils, chocolate bar remnants were strewn on the ground.  A day before our arrival, some local schools had sent their children to Chatpal for the customary picnic.  I found it painful to see the Clean India dream unrealized in far-off Chatpal. The place deserves better tourists.

One wonders why Indians, even at an early impressionable age, are unable to embrace public hygiene and community cleanliness.  There is no dearth of reformers and saints who have taught us the significance of a clean environment.  Clean India is a slogan that dates back to pre-Independence times.  The vision of a clean village was put forth emphatically by Gadge Maharaj in Maharashtra.  Mahatma Gandhi laid immense stress on clean neighborhoods.  However, Indians don’t seem to espouse the philosophy wholeheartedly.  We fetishize tree lined plush localities, beautifully done up homes, vast swimming pools, expansive golf courses and picturesque gardens.  But we don’t hesitate to throw off wafer packets on road journeys, despite having read the scary statistics about the harm caused by wrongly dumped garbage!  Plastic has clogged most of our river streams.

I was told the Jammu and Kashmir police authorities, specially appointed to guard the tourist spots, had noted down the names of the schools which had sent their wards to Chatpal for the excursion. The schools will be duly notified about the civic education that remains lacking in their students. Hopefully, the next batch of picnicking children will use dustbins and generate less plastic in the pristine land.

Rejuvenated and recharged, as I left Chatpal the next day, we took a short halt at Achabal Mughal Baug  (1620 A.D.), a scenic and worth-recommending slice of the Anantnag district.  The water fountains in the public park are the best in Kashmir, even better than those in the oft-visited Shalimar garden in Srinagar.  The relatively less-frequented Achabal is super-clean; its central water channel is linked to the Bringhi gushing nearby.  Lush Deodar trees in the park dot the multiple pavilions where tourists of all hues have a gala time.  At some distance outside the garden, I saw a Swaccha Bharat poster. I decided to sit for a moment to enjoy the foliage, in letter and spirit!

Friends, this is my thought haversack, from which I will be unpacking and unloading anecdotes at regular intervals.  This is a relatively new journey for me.  Your feedback and suggestions will be welcome.  I take your leave now, only to return with some more thoughts!