Regent Park & Camden Town - A Blessed Evening.

Huge park upfront. The map would definitely need a compass. Serpentine meadows. Daffodils. Typical array of flora. Banana running campaign. 3 mile run. But no support from the crew, with which I traveled. No worries. They were the coolest bunch. The three knew that their priorities were straight, clear and well-managed. Simple and crazy feeling for me to try running a three-mile cancer campaign. I liked the color yellow. The lions. Many cricketers, who follow IPL would know that I hail Chennai Super Kings. We walked because we thought we would just walk. No special plans. Simple but a sweet decision. Pinky striding followed. I was admiring a park after a long time. Why so??. I don't have answers. Perhaps there weren't attractive flowers. Or the eyes didn't notice them in the past.  

Leave that. Irene wanted to visit Camden town. We didn't have a clue about it. But it was the gayous town. Gay. A feeling after all. It is the part of  the gender taxonomy. So do we encounter strange things on our way to Camden Town. Not sure. Might be. We headed to the Camden Town. I always wonder, when we travel to destinations, that have special attractions, how do we connect with them. Obviously not the physical connection in Camden. But the beauty of the place to attract the straighter ones. I mean how do we get the tinge of it. For that we planned a coffee. Sounded ancient, at least in Central London. Fine. The answer was to get a beer. Corona Extra. Extra strong??? To get acquainted with the taste of Camden. I was not sure. But the bartender repeated himself again and again. I thought we were starting to hit these special off-shoots of Camden. He said "Extra-strong and believe me it is crazy and perfect". We headed off to the terrace-top. 

I  already noticed a french couple (Of course they were gay. Why is a couple always a man and a women???)  I spotted the differences. It was like playing a "spot the six differences" puzzle in newspapers. Ear rings. Blue tainted upon the Grey hair. Crazy chit-chats. Sounded. It all sounded weird. The ordered Corona wished good evening to all the four. Opened the beer bottle. It overflowed. The feeling. The completion of yet another milestone in the history of gender. Photos. Chips aside. The evening sunshine. Mario gazing at the map. He expressed his sense of fulfillment like every time he does after a sumptuous meal. It ended well. The journey.       

 

Oxford - Charming City.

Yes. We were in Oxford. It was mid-day, realizing the fact that we had to carry back-packs all by ourselves, while walking around the city. I had to have burger, which was terribly prepared. We never had a clue about the must-see places in Oxford. The Usual way that I get with, was to ask a few strangers. Try to grab their fullest attention. Though they would have had queer revenge inside, during the chat, I never really bothered. So with a few pamplets in the hand provided by the local city council here in Oxford, we saw we were nearing "The Ashmolean Museum". The first museum that I had visited, which was nothing but mammoth display of artefacts, statues, carvings and figurines spanning atleast half of history,that existed in this world.

A perfect place to start a day. We were four in numbers when we entered, and in a while, there was a girl, probably in teen, speaking  french taking an  engrossed look at a mummifying process flowchart, right next to me. Suddenly I was alone. But the realization was seemingly delayed. A few rooms shocked me in terms of captured information, based on archeaological and objective evidence. I thought history is all, that is old and righteous.


 
Predominantly roman, greek and european civilisations were captivating the most, for it was immense by size and meticulous by detail. Honestly I enjoyed every inch of it, reading through them, inscription by inscription, bullet by bullet and badge by badge. Some thing inside me, took my attention from  the nataraja statue (Lord Shiva, The Hindu god, authority for destroying) with his dancing legs touching a circle all around him. I suddenly figured out. While I was in India, about an year back, I never really bothered to visit a museum or a memorial. Justification would tell that I was otherwise busy. But the resonating truth was the opposite. I had time, but not the virtue. I mean the virtue of realizing the value of things, when they are around you. It is a subtle indication that I overlooked simplicity. I walked past without acceding the fact that I was missing them. But now,I know that I am enjoying it. Nevertheless it was a visual feast, of value embedded within every piece of the colossal art rooms inside the ashmolean.

We didnt agree on any particular spot, to join after the trip inside the museum. But before we entered, we shelved our bags in a cloak room, in the lower basement level. I rushed to the cloak room and found that a few lockers were out of keys, which meant that the rest of the crew was inside still digging history to the deepest roots. Attacked by mood-swing, I walked tired out of the main lobby and saw Irene, one of my friends trying to capture an image on her camera. It was photo-session time. We were just nitpcking and clicking a few shots facing the road side view of the ashmolean. It was getting dark. Still a two of them were inside. A restless feeling cramped us. But patience was also a virtue. Also we thought, we can afford to wait until they return. They came smiling, natural and we were trying to get to an waiting agreement immediately after a few exchanges about the heritage of the museum. Two hours of historic, captivating and sensual experience, that was so rich in flavour to have served us, quiet well at the end.

Oxford, supposedly, one of the oldest towns in England, was dense on the streets and the city centre buzzled with rampant exuberance of young and the teens, spending a day-off in Oxford. Appallingly less modest among the four of us, I initiated a question to a stranger, about getting around Oxford, with a tourist point of view. He replied "Well. There are colleges in and around Oxford, that you might try on". Honestly I was pre-occupied with a thought that Oxford University had a main building or a chapel or memorial building to glorify the ancient Oxford heritage. I was wrong. He continued his opinion on touring Oxford and said "You should go to Churchpark College, for it is nicer with a riverside front. Also has a church that is popular among the oldest Baptist Churches in the England. So we walked past the bazaar road and headed straight to a cathedral in fornt of a moor fenced on its edges, bordering a river.

 I knew for sure that I already wanted to go inside the church. We inquired and got student offers for entry tickets and we were in front of a massive square garden immediately after a few steps inside the college grounds. The buildings were very old, but for the crowd that gave the visits every day, year around and every year. Irene was already taking the camera, and we were ready to pose for a few clicks. Photos. Memories. Puristic Feelings. Blah Blah. There were inscriptions on the walls signifying religious stories about Christ. Nice shadows cast the inner facades of broken glass, reinforced with cemented walls. Silence. Candle lights. The next wonderful moment was when we were standing in front of the Harry potter's majestic dinner table inside the chapel hall. Photos. Peace. Awe-struck. Next was to walk by the river side.

Crazy thing happened. After we did exit, we walked a few yards to cross a stream of the river oxford. Swan is not extinct yet. There is proof, apart from the baltic sea photos. Crazy thing. We asked a man, as to whether there was anything that could be considered after ending a day in Oxford. He had beer can in his left hand and a strapped pet dog to his right. He said something about a similar place in proximity. But he didnt leave. He asked us to donate him some money. Sorry that was lame. He begged. He said he was starving. WTF. With a beer in his hand??. I thought poverty at its pompous exhibition. Mario, one among the crew commented. "If they say something, they ask something in return". Favour. It is not travel guidance. It is business". Mario was an enterpreneur back in his country. He liked business. I mean deal-making, discounts and selling. That is his forte. But he was right.

We kept walking until we saw a sliding array of steps descending down to the oxford river. We sat there. Blissful. Fulfuilling. Heartened. Photos again. But the less fanciful ones.

Sensual capturing by Toliq, Our "Chemical brother". Sorry it is not the musical band. He is our funding partner. Very patient, composed and intelligent. I was once again hit by the ripples of the rivulet. A perfect place to start your dream. Manifestation is that, If you have a dream, a motive, it is tough to screw yourself. Better have one. Might be the silliest, but not the toughest at all. Enjoy traveling. Walking. Strolling and much more. Take the opportunity to explore. Every hour. Every minute. Don't look way forward from you. Happy Journey.!!

      

SouthEnd-On-Sea

There have been a lot of places that have had an impact on me personally at certain levels. Fine. Let me get to the topic of this blog. South End-On-Sea. This is a small coastal town towards east, within drivable distance from the buzzing outer boroughs of London. This place was selected for our trip that we have planned together along with my flat friends. From the suggestions given by a few friends of mine, I just presumed that this place would have a lot of crowd with youth binging, partying and frolicking along the coastal waters. Some one even said that we would get AIDS without making an attempt. But then all these omens or whatever was just shattered immediately after the moment, we felt the silent breeze from the backwaters of the river Thames flowing into the isle of north sea. As a domicile of Chennai ( Coastal city, South India), I always had inclination towards traveling to beach, sitting alone until late night, hearing only the roaring waves. Somehow it felt that it was congruous with my inner voice, that always spoke with my conscience. I wonder of all landscapes, only beach-waters could have this person within you jump out and say "stay calm". Ironical it may sound, there have been times when I found myself more confusing, unstable and rhetoric, the moment I close my eyes or sit near the shore.

So What Am I trying to say or at least share here?? It is simple. "Traveling is not just riding. It is much more than peeping out of the windows of a train or taking a photograph of a passing by picturesque. It is your travel. It is your own Inner transformation. The person within every one of us, which even we might not have felt familiar before."

I traveled with four friends, out of which every one of us are different in our perspectives, interests and affinity matrices. But there was one thing common that I noticed was very much transparent. "The seeking". The questions that were surfacing only because every thing around the four of us were silent, except for our own inner jottings, the lines coming to your vision every now and then, when the waves were soaking our foot in freezing waters. It was actually tough for us to even listen to them after a while. Because the air was still. It felt like nothingness. As if I was starting all over again. I am pretty sure even now that the place didn't confuse me. It just shifted the way in which, we see us, around nature and find that the association that we seek with nature is inexplicable. As humans, we can experience the pleasure to the extent with which we can afford it or seek it. But we forget during times that we can still go forward to find that ethereal pleasure.

One of my flat buddy Toliq, went suddenly to the edge of the ocean and sat all by himself, wanting to have some privacy. It sounded nice. I haven't seen anything like that in the recent past. It felt like he has questions to answers, for which he needs some space around him. Perhaps he might have thought it is just so noisy inside. We left him alone and then I strolled with my rest of the gang.

Honestly I felt really happy, because I too had the same instincts. I could never believe, that I stood there along the battered rocks for almost two hours. Obviously some one who saw me closely would say that I had gone insane. But actually that was not the case. I felt so instigated. I felt like I am talking too much within myself. But it was a fabulous experience. Reminiscence. Refreshing zeal that stayed within me for at least a few days after I returned home. I was struck by power of emptiness. The decisions. The dilemma. The road planned ahead. The train of thoughts was a swamp. I could see that I was ready for letting myself into it. Intentional. Deliberate attempt to lose yourself to find someone better than the one now. These places that your eyes enjoy, explains you a lot about you. It was one of the perfect destination to seek the truth. It gave me a chance to appreciate the simplest of beauty, surrounded amidst a small coastal town. I still remember the moist sand, the ripples of dark blue beach waters, the mile-long pier built during the world war-II, the bastions built of rocks for guarding the natives from bomb attacks from the German troops and also the ice-cream shop owner, who gave me a free ice-cream, just because he said he wanted to give one for the day with a smiling face.

Traveling is a pleasure. It doesn't matter whether you carry a camera or you go in many. All that matters is the place. The peace, The fortitude of arousal of your own-self. Find it. Enjoy it. Start your road towards seeking it. You shall feel definitely feel more existing. And I bet you will love that!!!

- Sudharshan