It Snowed, Again.

It was all over the news. When dear old Indian media can find some time-slots to show weather updates of a place half a globe away, it has to be worth some TRP. The experts called it 'The Polar Vortex'. It resulted in an unusual wave of super cold winds throughout North America for more about a week. Even Texas saw snow!

Why am I telling all this is - unlike many of my friends, I like it when there is some form of precipitation. Not that I am very much fond of going out and freeze to sickness in a freezing rain (something that forms those crystal stalactites hanging from the bottom of the cars), but I do enjoy the unusual-ness of the fact that something is falling from the sky! (Nopp! I haven't gotten used to the science behind it yet. It is still a little magic to me).

The day was January 25th, when it was three things together - A Saturday, a clear sky, and lots (LOTS!) of snow accumulated. Anup, Vachas and I drove very (very) cautiously on that slippery road and reached Jacobson Park (a mile south from our place) and I must say, my Blue German Babe never looked so beautiful. Not as azure as the sky, but close, with a little powdery snow on it, braked on the slippery few with the screech marks - she looked hot!

Basically, the complete enjoyment on that weekend was limited to Jacobson Park only. But the best part that morning was, we few were the very first of humans to have gone in that park by that time. It looked so dreamy, so peaceful that I am sure my language or photography skills will not be able to do even the quarter of the justice it deserves.

You just stand there and just stand there, struggling to form that one sentence in your mind or find that one word, one simile or one metaphor that can describe what you see.

And then, suddenly you wake up to the thought that you don't want to miss even a second of it focusing on your language prowess. You turn back and see the sun playing hide and seek among clouds, making distinct sometime and sometime dull shadows playfully from the tree skeletons. And suddenly, again, you decide to join the game yourself - "Now it will be clear shadow, now dull, now no shadow, now clear..." Like the clouds, time flies and you keep staring at the flawless, footprintless snow...

I did not know how to take pictures of that joy, the joy of the white stagnant serenity that was all around. I tried jumping around (due to which I tripped and rolled down a slope in that snow), I tried shouting interjections, I tried calling people (but that included taking fingers out of gloves, so quit the idea). The loneliness had that strange out-worldly charm that one might wonder if it is a parallel universe and if you are the first to explore it.

Prolay da, Ajit joined a little late... and by that time, my car was done with the much needed manual push by Anup and Vachas to get past the skid zone and get its tires moving... I was home at a speed of 1 mile per 15 minutes.

The afternoon had a dilemma - Should I watch Mishawr Rohosshyo (with the amazing party of Suman, Subarata di, Koel and Dibakar) or should I head for Jacobson Park again (with Soumen, Anup and Moumita) to see the orange slant sun on the snow. I chose the sun. Must say, Koel, Suman, Dibakar, Subarata di understand the me in me a little. And so, there I was, again, out with my camera.

And what a sight awaited me! Soumen was driving and I was not prepared for anything till the car stops at a parking (recognizable only by the "P" iron posts peeking out of the thick snow), so I was not in the shotgun seat of his car. Moumita was the first to point her out from a distance - "Who on earth is wearing a Sari in this cold?" We all looked closer and there she was:

Clad in a white silk gown, denying the chill of the wind but using it to make herself look heavely. In about a few more seconds, she was going to run inside a car parked near by (driven by her photographer friend) but for every second she stood there, she amazed us equally with her patience like she did with her fairy-like beauty. Unbelievably stunning she was (I am honestly struggling with adjectives here). When she was gone, I was left with one thought more prominently that so many other -  How could I be present at the precise moment? How?

And the story of perfect timings did not end there (although, noone else showed up in white silk gowns)... but we had the sun, just where we wanted. The snow flying off the topmost layer of their accumulation continued to give us that deserted melancholy feel. Yet it was joyous to the fullest for people like us who are accustomed to tropical climates. Soumen and Anup have seen more winters than I have and that's why it was nice to know that this was the best snow they have seen.

The golden, low sun with the wind kissing the surface of the snow, the dazzling hue at the horizon... Something that you see in National Geographic Channel when they show remote Siberia or Northern Russia... it does produce some overly dramatic moments. I had never seen footprints which are knee deep or are cold and warm at the same time. Sometimes only the silhouette of a person (that too may be only from the back) is enough to deduce that the person is smiling. I know for sure, the fun we had that afternoon, the sights and the sound of the wind on our nearly frozen ears and not to forget the absence of any smell on our completely frozen noses - it is going to be etched in our memories for a long time.

The day had to come to an end and it happened quite suddenly. But lucky for me, I could get the last fringes of the sun-rays coming through the trees. And I knew they were the very last of the rays because the moment I called Soumen to capture the very same picture (which was like a minute after I was done capturing it), it was gone! As if the sun also gave up to the rules of gravity. We all know the sun sets, but we have barely witnessed it vanish. Even on that day, I probably missed it by a blink.

From a blue-orange setting, we were now down to just a blue one - just like the colour you get when you put a few drops of Royal Blue ink in water - transparent yet intense. For a very rare time, the earth was also trying to imitate the sky, just like the seas. The evening was not synonymic to darkness anymore. The traces of the remaining light was trying hard to get amplified through the snow. The continuous and restless sound of the gently flowing water added to the calming effect. White surely is the colour of peace (even when it has turned blue).

The park authorities were making rounds to make sure nobody is left inside the park when they close it. We were also told to leave the premises but we continued to walk as slow as we already were. There were some trees, some faint chirping of birds, some now-almost-invisible footprints on the snow... and a bench. Soumen asked Moumita if she would like to stop for sometime. She did. After I had walked ahead a few more steps, I turned back and witnessed that perfect scene from a 50s cinema which makes an iconic hand drawn poster.

"After all these years, I still look at you the way I did the first time."

They both are two of those few people whom I know for real and who make me believe in so many things which are easy to doubt.

Even the end of the evening came to an end and we were out of the park shortly. After a long time, I was somehow satisfied with the contents of my photographs. I try not to do it. The satisfaction gets to the head and screws up the next mission. But I could not help it. I called up a few of my friends and told them about the beauty the Polar Vortex had brought along with the chills and bad road conditions. I also confessed about the satisfaction which was gradually crawling up my head. As a friend, Shubhs helped me stay earthed.

And I could not be more glad that I had my head cleared up in time. It made space for the next big thing I have in my thoughts: a trip to my most favorite place on earth - Kolkata. My papers are on their way, flight tickets look reasonable and I have waited long enough without seeing my loved ones. I am ready to fly.

See you soon!

A Day at Gatlinburg

Touchwood! This year had a lot of ups, a lot of downs and numerous beautiful moments to last a lifetime. It had a few moments of absolutely devastating news but I met some wonderful people too, made some new friends, been to places where I had never thought I could go and honestly, was left with relatively lesser regrets than many more I know (and I don't). Very lucky indeed. The last craving I had was... to give this year a nice little end. A last trip which I will know as the last of the year. And came Gatlinburg, TN, into our plan.

Thankfully, Soumen, Moumita, Ranjan, Deboshree, Suman and Subarata di gladly accepted me in the trip.

This was Soumen's fourth visit to this little town. Naturally, he was our tour guide. We did not have any particular day long plan with us and since the town was easily cover-able on foot, we figured nothing can be very far. Out first stop was at the Ober Ski Resort. Made to replicate a scenic slope from Switzerland, this resort has its own skiing area. There is a certain entry fee to this place and you need to ride a wire tram for more than 2 miles to reach there (something like a size of a small bus hanging from wires, carrying you across valleys and over the tree tops and mountain roads). Had there been some snow showers that day, it surely would have appeared like the music video of Last Christmas (George Micheal). We only took the tram tickets and did not chose to learn skiing on rented gear and do some practice of self-embarrassment even trying to stand. Something truly embarrassing to witness was that kids of only quarter of our ages were giving it a shot, and getting success, while we chose to stand behind the safe railings!

After some more time, we went in to have a walk around the mall. It had small food court, a bakery, a small shooting range and a nice ice skating rink in the middle. I am not sure, if they are told so, but everybody in the rink seem to be skating in the same direction (in this case, anti-clockwise). This part, again reminded me of one of those initial scenes of the movie Serendipity (ya! I know... another screen example, but its true). It was again delightful and self loathing to see kids (this time even less than a fifth of our ages) to wear blades and skating. But on the whole, it was rather pleasant to be in the midst of the season's crowd in a place decorated with smiles. 

After some lunch and the ride back on the same hanging tram, Soumen took us to experience the Sky Lift (and it was very generous of him to stand in the ticket line, here also). In the Sky Lift, you sit on a bench, secured by only a metal rod in front of you and which is again hanging from one cable. But this time, it is no bus like anything, it is just a hanging bench where you are sitting, holding your camera in one hand and clutching that metal rod with the other. It takes you to the top of a hill, where you can see your super-sad-looking photo taken on your way up, and then ride the same bench down.

The next fun spot was the Mirror Maze. And what a devil's work is it. One moment you see your partner beside you. Then you look around a pillar and puff!! He is gone! You see someone walking straight at you, happily waving, but the moment you are about to grab that persons hand, bamm! you hit a mirror and the person emerges from a nowhere to your right side! In my mind, it is only a single multiple curve way from start to end, but the angularity of the mirrors make it so much more fun than pain of physics and mathematics.

By the time we were done and were out of the maze (twice) it had started to rain. With no other "activity" thing to do, we went to the Moonshine distillery - for some free sampling of the country liquor called Ole Smokey Moonshine (12 samples). Trust me guys, when its cold and there is a light rain, have faith on some alcohol to warm you up to the perfect mood. By the time we were in the sixth of the samples, we knew that getting a little wet in this cold was necessary for this ecstasy.

And once the mood was set, we came out into the surrounded but open roof porch of the distillery and guess what - live pure country music was waiting for us. A local band named Firewater Junction was playing in the shade. There were gas heaters and wooden rocking chairs and some total redneck air. To tell you the truth, I was this close to lock elbows with a stranger out there and get on the floor myself! After staying in a southern state for more than a year now, the sound of the banjo and violin and the accented songs about barns and trucks and bourbons have started to sound like signatures of merriment. With nothing else planned for the rest of the evening, we simply sat on those chairs, rocked them, tapped our foot and clapped our hands. We had the entire sundown left and no hurry to get anywhere. I guess this is where I can say - Y'all ain't getting no fun more 'an this newhere else.

When the band took a break, we got up too. But it was still raining, only a little harder now. We were already a little more wet than we could carry. So, a hot cup of coffee seemed like the idea for the moment. Steaming cups of hot mocha and some chicken nuggets beside a rain drop dotted window in McD with only one table and seven chairs around it. What more can you want! 

The evening could not have been more happening, and strangely, it was so in the laziest way possible. We chatted and laughed in that corner table for long after sundown. When, to everyone's delight, the rain almost stopped, there was still a little irritation left in me to be short height person (there are chances that can make one climb up a wall just beside the street and stand on it in full public view for just one click, that too without his six other folks around!).

Then, it was the souvenir time. Soumen, Moumita, Ranjan, Deboshree and Subarata di went inside a jewelary shop and me and Suman decided to explore those interior brick streets a little more. And we found more than we looked for. An English pub (the name delighted me to madness!), a Red Indian souvenir shop (both of us got some hand made stuff from there), more village like colonies with more and more shops, each having a personal charm, each one with dedicated and different decorations. It was raining only that much amount where I simply had to take off my spec. But it was adding so much of magic to the cold and the surroundings. We kept walking, kept crossing streets in pure Indian styles (Everytime. Long live democracy!), and above all, continued being struck with the loveliness of the decoration Gatlinburg had in each of its establishment.

The day trip was almost over after we had a strange dinner (food was good, but there were a few laughable matter in the service) and we were out for one final look at the town. From the moment we had set foot (rolled in our car tyres, actually) in the town, I had a feeling that this is probably the most adorable little town around. And I was so damn right. It is just a pleasure to walk and simply look around. I had seen photographs of Gatlinburg clad in white snow and that is exactly how I had portrayed Christmas and New Year. Except for the fact the snow was not there that day but it suited nicely into my idea of a small but sweet and warm place with the spirit of season.

"Every time those imperfect spirals I see,

The honest sculpting of your hands I want to be.

The infant magic of the nightly peace,

I wish time had chosen itself to freeze.

My body gives up to the wave of time,

But my heart refuses to this crime.

Growing up has to wait as it seems

Coz, ma'am, you come straight out of my dreams."

(O... Shhut Upp!)

Well,

See you on the flip side,

Cheers!

The Pujo of 2013

[Photograph taken by the author in 2009 at Kumartuli, Kolkata]

This:

"Ashwiner Shaarodo Praate,
Beje Uthechhe Aloko Manji."

and then, this:

"Ya Devi Sarva Bhuteshu Shakti Rupena Samsthita,
Namestasyai Namestasyai Namestasyai Namoh Namah."

Every Bengali child is raised with the training of getting goosebumps upon hearing these words from Mahisasuramardini, especially in the voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra. This year, I had no hope of being in Kolkata to celebrate those five days. This was not my first Puja outside India (2011 was the first), but this was the first where I was going to celebrate it so far away from home.

Sorry guys, this particular post IS going to have a lot of reference to few typical Bong cliches (behavioral and cultural) and a good helping of Bengali words regionalism (at times, I might end up sounding like a racist too). So, if you want to stop reading right away, I totally understand.

After a planning of almost a month, a convoy of cars left Lexington on Oct 12, the actual Ashtami, for Dayton, OH. The group was huge (huge) this time - Agni, Ajit, Vachas, Neelabh, Abir, Sananda, Suman, Arup, Arijit, Soumen, Moumita, Ranjan, Deboshree, Asish da, Sukanya di, Supam da, Sharmistha di, Kitu, Kousik da, Arunava, Prabuddha, Arghya and me. Anamitra and Vikas joined us all the way from Detroit, MI.

Anjan Dutta, Kabir Suman, Fossils, Cactus and various other Bengali songs (only Bengali) being played all the way to the pujo mandap. It was past noon when we reached Franklin High School near Dayton to make it to the last round of Pushpanjali. I am still not sure if it is something to be surprised or not but this was my first Pushpanjali in a Durga Puja. Who knew I would finally take part in the tradition not at my para's Purbachal Club or at Bappa da's place, but 8098 more miles away from there.

My usual calendar for Durga Pujas only includes pandal hopping and Biriyani-ing/Egg Roll-ing though out the length and breath of Kolkata for 5 days. But since, the closest Durga Puja from Dayton was more than 50 miles away at Cincinnati, I chose to take the other way many of my friends prefer to enjoy the festival - the 'endless adda at a single mandap' way. Although, my years of hopping habit was still unaltered within me, but that weekend, I sure had added the second way to list my 'ways'. It might come in handy someday, who knows.

There is no ambiguity in the statement that America is probably not the best place to arrange a full fledged flaw free Durga Puja with all the means and resources required, but the race of those insane people called Bengali, arrange for whatever best they can for the annual home coming of Maa. All the five days of pujo are squeezed within two days. Re-usable idols are imported from India. At places, it is held one or two weeks before or after. No matter what is takes, organizing the pujo is a must.

That day, there was like an explosion of traditional clothing and ornamenting everywhere. Men were in there best kurtas and women were in the best of their saaris and jewelries. At a point it had started to feel that probably the Bengali-ness in these people has surpassed the ones back at Kolkata. In Kolkata, pujo has taken some corporate and business colours, but here, it was all about being present there, in body, in mind, in spirit. It is like "I was still there, even if I was thousands of miles away from home that year."

Talking about the spirit, no second opinion says that there is something else present in the entire mandap better than a dhaak to boost and overflow the scale of pujo spirit. There was an interstate dance competition in the evening and to keep telling you the truth, I had loosened my rusty joints (and shed some inhibitions) after six long years (last was in my college fest, 2007, in dark disco lights). After Indiana and Ohio, the entire crowd from Kentucky dived in and everybody was throwing in their best move using their legs, hand, neck and waist... non-stop... and called it dancing. It was literally a gasping-for-breath-ly maddening. Tiring and refreshing at the same time. And it was the sound of the dhaak, that infused the madness in all of us. This dance surely had that same high energy trance effect on everyone present there which one gets during the dhunuchi naach on Navamis. This one was only without the dhunuchis (fire hazard reasons!)

The rest of the night was about more adda, photographs, group photographs, even more adda at dinner, halka jhaari, some PNPC and some more dance (even lungi dance) at a cultural program. Not quite like the 'whole night' programs at Kolkata, but a few of us did live up to the expectation of coming back late to sleep. 

Next day, was for the rituals of Dashami. I had never witnessed almost the complete worshiping process at the Durga Puja (too busy hopping), but when the words "Iti Durga Puja Samaptahh" were said the next day, it was a little heart wrenching. Ladies had now gathered for the debi boron. That clear expressions of merriment, that was there a day ago, was scarce now. After the boron, it was the shidur khela, something that I was looking forward to photograph. The smearing of vermilion on each others faces by the ladies (the married ones) somehow brings back that lost smile and laughter. It is probably that much required joyful end which provides every soul present there with a hope that it is only a year when Maa will come back again. People leave from the festival with an assurance that Aschhe Bochhor Abaar Hobey.

I have absolutely no idea where I would be during the pujo of 2014, but if I be in the vicinity of even a single Durga Puja and I have the spirited people to simply adda out my time in only a single mandap, I wont be able to stop myself!

Till next time,

:)

To and From The Niagara Falls

Frustration creeps in when time and again you fall out from doing the most obvious. But when you finally accomplish that obvious piece of task, you cannot help feeling proud. It was about time when I had to do something about the jealousy I used to feel upon looking at people's photograph of the Niagara Falls. Thankfully, I got the company of Ajit, Vachas, Sananda and Ankit to help me out with that.

A six-sitter babe like Chevy Traverse was at least required for that (theoretically) 9 hours of journey from Lexington to Niagara via Pittsburgh. The idea of making a halt at Pittsburgh was not in the initial plan, but when Ion made me look at some of the photographs of the city's night sky...

... not going crazy (or feeling jealous, again) was out of my control. The team gladly accepted the idea of going via Pittsburgh and once on one of those inclines, it was one hell of a view. It made me recall my weakness for the silhouette of a city's skyline. It was lost somewhere but standing there at midnight, I was glad to get that good old affection back.

It was not before 430 the next morning when we finally checked into our hotel and crashed into our beds. our sleeps were more or less complete in the next 6 hours and adding an hour to that 6, we were on the Maid of the Mist ride. We walked in through the gates and before we took elevator down, we saw what we were going to go into. We were not yet at the highest point to see the Niagara (from the American side), but the grander view had to wait till we were done with the Maid of the Mist. We went close, very close to the roaring fall (we were almost in Canadian waters) and whatever was now falling on us, was something that could only be felt, not seen. I tried to see once, but it was only the colour white in front of my eyes. White was never so dazzling, loud and wet before. 

Talking about loud, I know people were shouting vowels at the top of their voices, but all I could hear was that non-stop roar coming from somewhere very close. Finally, the boat turned and the colours started to come back - blue, white, white, blue. Taking advantage of this fact, I looked up once more only to be pinned to the believe we clearly are a boat-full of nothings in front of this over swollen line of flowing water which happened to cross a suddenly lower piece of land. Phahh!!

After the Maid of the Mist ride was over, we went up a stair-case constructed on the body of the cliff. It was an opportunity for the viewing the swollen momentum with which every drop of water falls off into that mist created just under it. It is like a regular explosion somewhere behind that curtain of water. But other than listening to my imaginary explosions, there was one more sound to notice - the absence of an English speaking voice anywhere near. To my observation, every other person was speaking in one or the other Indian language (if not in Spanish).

After some seriously over lighted and over darkened photos of our faces there, we came back and used the elevator to go up to the highest (American) point to the see the fall. We went up, stood there, and there is was in all its glory.

The water coming up to the cliff like a disciplined army band, then falling off the cliff into the dazzling mist with the last thought of being able to fly and finally the milky trail on the rocks and still water at the bottom like the bride's gown following her when she walks the aisle. All that echoed in my ears while standing there were the last words the captain said on the Maid of the Mist boat when the boat was closest to the fall "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the Niagara Falls."

But my oddly poetic side had to wait. The experience of the Cave of the Winds was still due. And that is one experience that does not odd create poets. It creates rock stars and vikings (for a few minutes). Okay! That was an exaggeration... but you can see my point, right? Wearing a yellow poncho and rubber kiitos, we went into the falling water. I don't think I was any wetter in my life till that day. It was crazy, it was mind blowing. The gust of wind that comes straight at you with those piercing shells of water (by units of gallons) - the helplessness only craves more. And that's precisely what we five did - "Once More... Once More" were our only words every time we were "finally" leaving that ruthless cove of wind and water. We were wet to our bones, but all we wanted was more.

Sorry, I don't have any picture of us (our faces) when were at the Cave of the Winds (it was impossible). But honestly, this is the place where I had determined to revive this blog after a year of gap.

We went back to our hotel but came back before sundown. This was more of the peaceful time of the day. We had heard stories of our colleagues crossing the Rainbow Bridge to the other side (yes, to Canada). And then being pushed back to USA after showing office ID cards as "travel papers". But to add to this story, that evening I came to know why that bridge is called nothing else, but the Rainbow Bridge. All I had to do, it turn around and the answer was there.

We went back to the same highest platform and waited for sundown when red yellow blue pink... all these lights were supposed to be thrown on the fall. We waited and waited but it never happened. But we were not due for a total disappointment.

[for some reason, blogger.com seems to be over sharpening the night(er) photos
So, posting more of a twilight-ish photo]

We were told to leave that platform at 8 in the evening and we did so too. But I was not complaining about the unavailability of those colourful lights. My little gadget did the trick for me. By the way, other than the silky waterfall whatever else that you see in this pic, is Canada. After a complete confusion in finding a nice Indian restaurant (and car parking) that night, we were somehow well fed and well rested for  the next day.

We drove back to Pittsburgh to have a visit to the biggest temple in east coast- Sri Venkateswara Temple. You cannot call me a fan of temples if they are not well architectured or well hygined, but the moment I set my foot in the Sri Venkateswara temple (and washed it), my complete consciousness was on it. It was a neatly constructed and very well maintained establishment. Standing in the middle of the crowd during that noisy prayer and having the most simple prasad, there was sure an addition to me bag of experience, especially serving the fact it is all happening in US. After we came out of the temple, we shot for the Taj Indian restaurant. Let me tell you guys, I generally don't endorse Indian eateries (coz I know how Indian food should taste like), but this one proved to be an exception. If you are in Pittsburgh, you must try this Indian food joint. Take it from me. it is the best you get withing hundreds of mile of Lexington (literally).

We were back by our night sleep time. The trip was like a satisfaction to my soul on so many levels (jealousy, photographs, blah blah blah)... and to top all the reasons, it made me re-ignite this blog. Thanks to the "once more" at the Cave of the Winds.

Till next time,
Cheers!

Alaska Day 1: Denali

Hey guys,

Let me start by saying a flat fact. My short trip to Alaska was probably the most breathtaking of all the trips I have taken so far. And I would like to thank every single contributing factor which made it possible and so very much memorable. Starting from the availability of affordable flight tickets to the successful production roll out of the phase 2 of my project just few days back (work stuff!) ... from the more than perfect weather we had throughout to the fact that I had people with me to plan out the most suitable itinerary.

The group was back - Asish da, Sukanya di, Soumen, Moumita and me (The same Yellowstone team). On the due date (Aug 31, 1 am local time) we reached Anchorage via Minneapolis (1 hr in air after leaving which the captain informed us that there is an aurora visible to the left of the flight. I am not sure what exactly was it but that night I did see a yellow something in the sky - true story!). Anchorage airport was the place where we had to freshen up, change, eat and get some supplies for our day to come. There was no possibility of sleep for us in the next 26 hours.

Once outside the 40 mile radius of the city of Anchorage, it was only and only one single lane road to the Denali National Park (Soumen and Asish da exchanged seats at a gas station mid way). We reached the visitors' center of the park at about 730 in the morning after a 5 hours drive to cover about 300 miles of road in high beam. We waited and then we started with the guided tour bus at 830. One thing was there about our whole Alaska trip - there was very less driving in comparison to what I had experienced so far.

Like we were told earlier, there was no food item for purchase (or pluck) for the next 12 hours once we were inside the park. And shortly we were inside the park, it started to snow. The fall season in Alaska lasts only for two weeks. Luckily, we were in the middle of it. It was a total treat to be able to see it snowing on the vast red and yellow carpet. Basically it was like a combination of three seasons - summer (as it was back in Lexington, and in most of the world's calendars), the fall (as it was in Alaska, technically) and the winter (as was Alaska always!).

A little deeper into the park, we witness the vast open wilderness. The human kind has settled everywhere on this planet, but beyond certain latitudes, it could not find it in itself to tame the inhospitable beauty of the land. All he could do here is set his foot onto the land and start walking. On our journey, the bus picked up quite a few number of hikers, who were inside the park, with a backpack, a stick and a camera walking or biking on the trails and experiencing the wilderness first hand.

My personal favorite of the day was the Eielson Point (yes, this one) which was like complete textbook Alaska for me - straight out of the picture in my mind (or rather some book called "Ideal Alaska" in my mind) into the picture in my camera.

This was one of those places in the park, where you ask yourself - is it really real? You stand there for so many passing moments with your eyes blinking less frequently, mouth closed, slow breathing and with your hands inside the jacket's pockets... And you just stand there, savoring every ray of light coming from what is in front of you. You touch the cold metal railing, just to check if it is... really real. The sun was not  in an enlightened mood that day. But however that big ball of fire wanted us to witness the sight, it appeared just perfect. And in a way, it was good we could not see Mt. McKinley, there is only a limit to which I could have taken that day.

Further down west of the park was the Wonder Lake, but I had seen what I had to see. While coming back from the Wonder Lake, I was feeling like that student who has already scored the passing mark and who is now only going for some higher numbers, just for the hell of it. With my nose pressed against the bus window now, the loneliness of the place became only clearer and clearer.

Every place on earth does not make you realize the planet-ness of it. Yes, it is a planet, at just the perfect distance from that insanely bright and hot thing. And this distance is why things are more colorful here. Within a second you zoom out higher and higher - a piece of land, a huge land mass, a continent, oceans surrounding the continent, and Zzoop! A planet! With this picture in mind, you take a look at the piece of land again, and you realize that what you are looking at is a planet, the most colourful of all.

On our journey back to the visitor's center, we could spot some caribou but after seeing the image which one of the hikers/photographers in the bus clicked, I am literally ashamed to put up that image which I clicked. But anyway, our journey inside the park ended sharp at 830 in the evening. By now, we were hungry like sharks. Ion had suggested us to try out the McKinley Creekside Cafe, just a couple of miles outside the park. I must say, the cafe was a little rough around the edges, yet had that warm welcome air to it. A lovely place to sit back at the end of day. And to top everything else, it made me fall in love with the fish called Halibut. I had one whole plate of the entree to myself.

But romanticizing the place anymore had to stop. Once done with our food and all settled inside that SUV, we started again. The GPS showed us that we would reach not before 2 am the next day. And so it was. After waking up on Friday 7am, I was about to go to sleep at 230 on Sunday. But that's not all. We had a train to catch at 630 the next morning (o ya!). The sleep was so insufficient that I overlooked a whole wash basin present in my hotel room and ended up brushing my teeth standing in the bathtub the next morning.