Rocks and Us - Day One

"... Are we really here?" Somehow, Moumita had read my thoughts. My exact thoughts. Standing by those cold railings, holding them, looking at probably the deepest sudden-depression on dry earth with the gradually forming dark clouds in its background, when I had decided to put down the camera and had savored the sight of the Grand Canyon for just a few seconds,  this was my precise thought - Am I really here?

This was a very important trip for our little group. It was probably our last one as THE group. When we had set out to catch the flight from Louisville (packed in Asish da's Camry), we already had that sense of a little accomplishment in us - one year, three grand trips! We had a little circus of delayed flight and car rental mess at the airports, but the gang had only started to make its story on that long weekend. "But we cant stop having fun!" was the war-cry and we set out for the Grandest of all Canyons.

No, we didn't go to the sky-walk, but chose the South rim instead. People say, slant sun-rays present you with the best of scenic views. I was not lucky enough to be there at sunrise or sunset, but I was there at a rarer moment - partly dark sky with the thick cylindrical space of "its raining only there" visible at the infinity. I had not expected that. Absolutely not. (and I must tell you, yet again, my photographs have not been able to do justice to the actual feeling of being there.)... And this is where I heard Moumita giving voice to my exact thoughts.

I had never seen Asish da getting so passoinate about clicking a picture. But this time, at one of the view points, we was flat on his belly, on the soil of Arizona, in an attempt to capture the best of what his view had sparked in him. Sukanya di, was only smiling and Soumen was having it difficult to get a steady shot of Asish da in the middle of his laughter!

It was not just the vastness, but the the physical depth of  the depression and the lonliness in the air (no sound, except the air itself brushing on your ears), makes you feel a little sorry for the place. Its like a really really huge painting, which no one can take home. It feels like craving for company. Yet, in my mind, it looks beautiful. Although, not everyone has such a depressing take. Moumita, (again) was the one to voice it with some joy - "Ei Akaash Amaar Mukti" was the song which she sang (and which Soumen pretended to hum along with some "Lalala"!)

I had gotten my US driver's license only three days ago and was quite excited to drive (others were feeling a very different kind of excitment on their nerves with me behind the wheel!) But, even if an SUV was something I had only reversed a few feet, that too a whole year back, I believe I did a nice job in that rain and hail and single lane roads on our way to Antelope Canyon. And Thank God there was a hailstorm strong enough to white-out my visibility, making us stop on the shoulder and re-confirm the direction. As it turned out, we have been going in the completely wrong direction for the last 19 miles. 

And again, thankfully we were two hours late for our 1 pm appointment with the tour people. Or else we would have missed the "this 3 pm is my favorite light condition" words from our super amazing tour guide. She was from the indigenous group of people of that area and an amazing photographer. She told us all about the flash floods in the canyon, strange acoustics, pretend-blaze lights bouncing and re-bouncing on the narrow parallel walls and helped us take some startling photographs.

Undoubtedly, the Antelope Canyon was the second jewel on the crown that day. Surreal - the only word that comes out upon looking at the waves on its walls. Looking at something for real, which you have only seen as award winning photographs in those magazines, does make it worth the pain. (Although, for some unknown reason, Asish da was getting restless looking for "terra-cotta")

I don't know if sometimes some superior force listens to me wishing, but it was getting a little suspicious in my mind about the sky conditions that entire day. It was more than what I had hoped for. Soumen was driving now and the way I was looking at it, he was driving right towards the dark clouds. For some reason, it was feeling like diving into the clouds (some credit for that goes to the speed Soumen was playing with). With random lightening in the distance connecting the grasslands with the blackness in the sky, there was even a complete rainbow on the east sky. You don't get to see that in the concrete jungle.

That entire day, we were not sure in which time zone we were (Seriously! We weren't). One spot seemed to be in Pacific, one in Mountain time zone. And then again, there was a confusion if the Navajo areas followed the Daylight saving time or not. We were not very sure of the time when we reached the Monument Valley Park, again under the maintenance of the indigenous Red Indian people.

The fact that the native American people have been here since the beginning of history (and have been named "Indian" just because Mr. Columbus though anywhere he lands is India), there seems to be a very harmonious bond between the roughness of the rocks and the people living there. They worship the sun, the thunder, the sand storm, the rain, the sky, the eagle and these beautiful brown rocks. At times I feel, that human history started as nothing but a story of finding harmony in living. But somewhere, it lost the core idea - may it be on the grounds of religion, economy, power... and just remained a skeletal continuation of mere existence, not living.

The time confusion did not end till the end of that day. Syncing phone time with a central server time had almost cost us our dinner that night. The sleepy town of Moab, for some reason, denies the time zone surrounding it. Thankfully, a Subway outlet kept itself open till 9 (which we had assumed "Relax. Its only 8 now. See my mobile."). The next day I had to wake up at 4:45, so I put the alarm for 3:45 and dived to catch some sleep after 40 hours.