Eat pray love: the book and the movie

I don’t know many people who liked the book. Or admit to having liked it. The main criticism against the book has been the tone of the writer – described variously as whiny, negative and complaining. Elizabeth Gilbert, a writer goes through an acrimonious divorce and then finds herself in deep depression, struggling to find her bearings in life. She finds herself bawling on the bathroom floor and having conversations with a god whom she does not fully believe in.

By this point, most readers have rolled their eyes and wondered what the fuss is all about. It is worse since it comes from a person from a privileged life – white woman, in good health (seemingly), financially independent, moderately successful – so what reasons does she have to complain?

I think it takes huge courage (not to mention a huge book advance, sniggers the sceptic in me) to open up one’s deepest and darkest emotions this way in a book – knowing that one is opening up to ridicule and criticism. But Gilbert does it, and with a charm that overshadows everything else.

In the wake of this depression, she decides to travel for a year to three countries – seeking different things from each. In Italy, she learns the language and eats her way out of depression. In India, she seeks spiritual solace in an ashram and then heads to Indonesia to spend time with the traditional medicine man she has met earlier. And there, she finally finds love.

The book is a wonderful narrative on Gilbert finding her way into the light – and a lovely look at how travel can be a healing, learning, enriching experience.

The movie, with Julia Roberts playing Elizabeth Gilbert (I can think of nobody else for the role) was released recently. I thought the movie was ok, ok – Julia Roberts smiles as luminously as ever, there are loving shots of Rome and the paddy fields of Bali (I am not saying anything about the India cliches) – you can’t go wrong there. However, it lacks the resonance that the book echoed with – it felt somewhat vacuous (and for that reason, precisely, I find that many people liked the movie!).

The movie version is somewhat uni-dimensional, lacking the nuances of the book. Here, you like the lady and you like what she is doing with her life – and there is no scope for any judgment. Apart from a couple of scenes of Roberts crying / unhappy, there is nothing of Gilbert’s struggle and angst. The movie falls into neatly into the category of chick-travel, without saying much about anything at all.

I would read the book again and again, but I am not so sure about watching the movie again. What did you think about the book and the movie?

To Ladakh by air

It was mid-May when we visited Ladakh and the road from Manali to Leh was not yet open. It is considered one of the best road trips ever, and I hope to do it some day. But for then, we had to fly in to Leh from Delhi. Bleary-eyed, I sat looking out of the window for the promised glimpses of the mountains below. Dry brown slowly gave way to dark mountains with peaks capped by snow and clouds and then suddenly there was only pure white – and the sight took my breath away.

On the way in, the sunlight was harsh and direct, making photography difficult – and luckily, on the other side when we flew out. And so, we were blessed with the best possible views.

…and popcorn at 17000 feet

Continued from: Breakfast at 14000 feet…

And so duly momoed, Maggied and acclimatized, we begin the second part of the drive towards Gurudongmar lake. Just in case we imagine that the rest of this drive is going to be as easy as it has been so far, our driver warns us to brace ourselves for what is ahead.

Buckled up and bundled up, we are off. The roads vanish rapidly, we are mostly hurtling along on a graveled and pebbled path and in an hour’s time reach the world’s highest cafe at 15000 feet. Managed by the army (and they are extremely proud of this), the cafe has tea and coffee and serves as another break point on this journey.

This stop is brief and our driver is eager to get on. Gurudongmar lake is open for visitors only till around noon, since after that the winds make it impossible to stay on. Stones fly, say locals, and I am not eager to witness that. And so we set off again, the roads getting progressively worse. There are no signboards, no indicators to show where we are headed; our driver plows ahead on what seems like pure instinct. The landscape is stark and stunning, the snow-capped mountains – the Kangchengyao range – seem within touching distance. range. Most of this part of the drive is in monochrome, a dry brown with a few spots of snow visible in the distance. The driver is impatient at the various photo stops I make; wait till you see the lake, he says, you will forget all this.

17000 feet is seriously disorienting. Before we step out the jeep, our driver gives us detailed instructions; breathe easy, take small slow steps, sit down and relax as much as you can. We head first to the small temple managed by the army where the jawans serve us cups of hot tea. And then we walk, er, totter unsteadily, towards the lake. “I am walking somewhere, but my feet are going somewhere else”, I hear a young woman say loudly in Tamil. Indeed. My feet seem to have a life of their own, whereas my brain seems to have switched off temporarily. I even giggle suddenly, at periodic intervals but my husband is too preoccupied – with his own disorientation – to comment on it.

The lake itself is reached by walking down a steep 50 odd steps and one look at it, we turn even paler than we are. So, we decide to take it easy and sit down by the steps, watching the lake and the few tourists who brave the biting winds and buzzing ears to make the descent to the lake.

Like the other Sikkim lakes, Gurudongmar (named after Guru Padmasambhava) is held sacred by locals; indeed, it is the most revered of them all. The lake remains frozen for most of the year but at this time of the year, the waters are a clear, sparkling blue. Prayer flags flutter in the wind, like everywhere else in Sikkim. The wind starts to get bitter, cutting through the layers of protective clothing we are ensconced in. Despite the discomfort, we are loathe to leave so early but it is getting to time for the stones to start flying and we reluctantly head back towards Lachen, and then on back to Gangtok.

And oh, the popcorn motif? We have been advised to carry it with us, as a cure for altitude sickness; keep chewing on popcorn and nothing will happen, we have been told. And for good measure, our travel agent has thrown in a bunch of branded, packaged, sealed popcorn. Well, a few kilometers before Gurudongmar, a loud noise – thankfully not my ears but the bags of popcorn that start bursting under the high pressure – and pop go the popcorn, one after another masala’d pack. And the contents of the one remaining pack that we dutifully chew on, I regret to say, only add to the feeling of acute nausea and discomfort on our way back; so much for home-grown remedies.

You are as old as you feel

Thought for the day:

“Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter”. ~Mark Twain

{Chatuchak weekend market, Bangkok, Thailand}

{Local market, Maddur, Karnataka, India}

Lakes of Sikkim

There is something about high altitude lakes – you climb up the mountains roads, gritting your teeth though the hairpin bends and unpaved surfaces and all. And then suddenly from a height, a gleam of water, a patch of brilliant blue, or silvery white speckled with gold, depending on the mood of the sun that day… Sikkim has several such lakes, many of them held sacred by locals and therefore are places of worship as well as tourism.

Elephant lake

Elephant lake was not in the original agenda – we chanced upon it after being turned away from the road to Nathu La just four kilometers ahead of the border, thanks to a landslide. Our driver took us ahead, on the insistence of been-there-done-there fellow passengers to the Baba bunker – the small memorial temple to Baba Harbhajan Singh (along roads maintained by the intrepid Border Roads Organization), with ominous signboards warning – you are being observed by the Chinese army – or something to that effect – the feeling of being sitting ducks is never stronger! There you are, on exposed steep mountain roads, and you are told the Chinese are watching you from their hidden posts! And so we headed on further up till the Elephant lake – with our jeep driver offering a “prize for guessing what the shape is”…

Tsomgo lake

Called Changu by locals, Tsomgo lake is one of the must-dos from Gangtok. At a height of over 12000 feet, the lake at the lap of snow-covered mountains, remains frozen during the winter months. The snow has all but melted in May, and the view of the lake from a height is much more attractive. Guidebooks says it is held to be sacred by locals, but the scene as we reach the lake is far from sacred or serene. Yaks by the hundreds are being led by their owners who offer tourists short rides along the lake; the animals themselves indifferent to all the chaos, except a few spirited ones that suddenly break into a trot, eliciting happy shrieks from those on their backs. The mist has descended and it is freezing cold at the lake, though most tourists, busy bargaining over yak rides and photo-ops seem to hardly feel it.

Khecheopalri lake

Also known as the wishing lake and is a place of worship for both Hindus and Buddhists. Unlike the other Sikkim lakes, there are no tourist traps around here; no yak rides, no wheedling vendors, no trinket shops. A walk along a peaceful shaded path leads you to the lake. A small temple and then a stone path, with prayer wheels on either side. We take off our shoes at the entrance and walk to the lake. Several people are offering prayers at the lake, a priest holds flowers in his hands and is instructing a woman on the ritual she is performing. It is a clouded day and the sky is a white blanket, the lake a lifeless green with colorful reflections of prayer flags all along the sides of the lake.

Gurudongmar

And the biggest and most beautiful of them all, this lake is at a breath-taking (literally!) altitude of over 17000 feet. Named after Guru Padmasambhava, also known as Guru Dongmar, this is the most sacred of all the lakes in Sikkim. The approach is through non-existent roads through terrain that feels partly desert and partly lunar, along the Khangchengyao range, snow-capped mountains that feel within touching range. And at the end of the arduous drive, a bright blue patch, prayer flags adding color to the borders.

All that flutters: at Wagah Border

Charukesi Ramadurai visits the Wagah border and comes away shaken and stirred in equal measure…

Shouldn’t we take a book to read since we are going to be reaching so early? I wondered aloud. I had imagined us getting there well before it was to begin, walking gracefully up the gallery to find seats that gave us the best view. I had a pretty picture in my mind of a few hundred people sitting there patiently, waiting for the ceremony, a dignified silence hanging in the air. I actually expected no-man’s land to be different, somehow feel different.

Drama Queen, that is what I was, imagining all this. I mean, India and Pakistan and I expected people to behave normally and rationally. You would almost think I had never watched any cricket.

Read the rest of the piece here…

***
This is the second part to All that glitters: Amritsar photoessay…

The full piece was published in DesiLit magazine as A Borderline Case…

And here, a photoessay on the Wagah Border circus – or ceremony, if you will.

Flag-sellers at the main gate, 7 and 8 year olds talking of comptisun between India and Pakistan… The feeling is like that of being in a mela in any town in India, stalls selling snacks and cold drinks, DVDs of the ceremony, whistles and drums, plastic knick-knacks…

Squeezing myself into a tiny (non-existent) gap in the “ladies gallery” while the husband remains standing at the back till the end… Thousands visit Wagah border everyday, and on weekends and holidays, the crowd is unmanageable…

Kid playing with her tricolor flag, and proud mothers in the background…

The show at Wagah – hysterical emcee and Bhangra dancing included… nothing like the sober, dignified ceremony I had imagined…

The parade finally begins – and what an anti-climax it is, after all the fun and games…

The gate closes for the night… this side India, the other Pakistan – and what is the difference?

A thousand hands break into applause at the end of the ceremony – for the viewers, a sense of exhilaration at having watched something spectacular (if bewildering, for the likes of me) and for the soldiers at the border, it is all in a day’s work.