From ‘All Roads Lead to Ganga’ by Ruskin Bond

Guptakashi and its environs has so many lingams that the saying ‘Jitne kankar utne Shankar’ – ‘as many stones, so many Shivas’ – has become a proverb to describe its holiness.

….Bhyundar Valley …..Valley of Flowers…..It would be no exaggeration to call it one off the most beautiful valleys in the world.

….Hindus enjoy their religion. Whether bathing in cold streams or hot springs, or tramping from one sacred mountain shrine to another, they are united in their wish to experience something of the magic and mystique of the gods and glories of another epoch.

Even those who have renounced the world appear to be cheerful…..

There has always been a mild sort of controversy as to whether the true Ganga (in its upper reaches) is the Alaknanda or the Bhagirathi. Of course the two rivers meet at Deoprayag and then both are Ganga….I put the question to my friend Dr. Sudhakar Misra…he answered: ‘The Alaknanda is Ganga, but the Bhagirathi is Ganga-ji.’

One sees what he means. The Bhagirathi is beautiful, almost caressingly so, and people have responded to it with love and respect, ever since Lord Shiva released the waters of the goddess from his locks and she sped plainswards in the tracks of Prince Bhagirath’s chariot…

The Ganga enters the world no puny stream, but bursts from its icy womb a river thirty or forty yards in breadth. At Gauri Kund (below the Gangotri temple) it falls over a rock of considerable height and continues tumbling over a succession of small cascades until it enters the Bhaironghati gorge.

A night spent beside the river, within the sound of the fall, is an eerie experience. After some time it begins to sound, not like one fall but a hundred, and this sound permeates both one’s dreams and waking hours..

….deodar….from the Sanskrit Deva-daru (divine tree). It is a sacred tree in the Himalayas, not worshipped, not protected in the way that a peepul is in the plains, but sacred in that its timber has always been used in temples, for doors, windows, walls and even roofs….. No one who has lived amongst deodars would deny that it is the most godlike of Himalayan trees. It stands erect, dignified…….in a strong wind it may hum and sign and moan…..

I think its only in India that you could find such a situation – a young offspring of the Raj [Ruskin Bond], somewhat at odds with his mother and Indian stepfather, choosing to live with the latter’s abandoned first wife!

From ‘Roads to Mussoorie’ by Ruskin Bond

And that’s what I have been doing all my life – plodding along, singing my song, telling my tales in my own unhurried way. I have lived life at my own gentle pace, and if as a result I have failed to get to the top of the mountain (or of anything else), it doesn’t matter, the long walk has brought its own sweet rewards; buttercups and butterflies along the way.

From ‘Mumbai to Mecca’ by Ilija Trojanow

It was fascinating to watch the different behavior of various pilgrims in Mecca……. The black Africans managed to look relaxed even in the ihram, thanks to their athletic build, their way of walking coupled with the fact that they used the upper cloth as a scarf sometimes, draping it around their necks with an almost dandy air. The Afghans benefited from laying aside their intimidating robes – now their regular features and bright eyes were shown to advantage. The moment they pulled on their local garments their proud bearing returned, they stood up taller, feet wide apart, two heads higher thanks to their turbans. They kissed and embraced one another in elaborate rituals – the expression of a connection that went beyond Islam. In absolute contrast to the Afghans were the Indonesians, the largest Muslim population in the world, and perhaps the friendliest… the Indonesians were reserved, gentle, and discreet; they were soft-spoken, and their diminutive height seemed part of their good manners: they never blocked one’s view….

Mecca is a town steeped in history, and yet one with no ancient buildings. Its history is not merely ignored by the prevailing teachings – it is regarded as dangerous. In an amnesia that enjoys an official stamp, believers are to pay no heed to the developments and decisions made in the 14 centuries since the Prophet (pbuh) and the Sahabah lived, but to trust only the Qur’an and ahadith, and, as a pilgrim to visit only the Kaaba – which is an artefact that goes beyond history. The desire to see the sites of the stories of the Prophet’s (pbuh) passion and revelation is regarded as destructive tourism. The Saudis have destroyed what was believed to be the birthplace of the Prophet (pbuh) and consigned the burial spot to anonymity. …..Likewise, Mecca is a cultural centre which has been drained of its culture. Theatre and music are frowned upon, of course, but the public baths and the coffee houses have also gone….. In the bookshops, the great Arabian thinkers of the past, and present, are nowhere to be found….the Saudi interpretation [of the Qur’an] often differs considerably from the classical ones.

Pilgrims from Istanbul, Damascus and Cairo regard the Saudis as parvenus, nouveau-riche, and lacking in civilization. And the Saudis do their utmost to live up to this assessment through their rude and coarse behavior.

During the first capture of Medina by the Wahhabis 200 years ago, the treasures of the Grand Mosque were stolen, supposedly to be shared amongst the poor, but the leader, Saud, sold parts of it to the Sharif of Mecca, retaining the lion’s share for himself. Although the Prophet’s (pbuh) commandments are meant to be followed at all times, certain ahadith are postulated as fundamental principles, while others are simply ignored. One hadith states, for example, that one should not build a house substantially bigger than one’s neighbour’s so that he does not feel humiliated, and yet the immense palace of the king in Mecca dwarves not only the neighbouring buildings but even the House of God.

Another hadith says: pay those who have worked for you before the sweat on their brow has dried. Yet Saudi Arabian employees continue to owe wages to foreign workers who come in their hundreds and thousands from the poorer regions of the Islamic World…..

And the high life of the Saudi elite break another very well known hadith: ‘Allah despises those who squander their wealth.’

Wahhabi Islam, referred to ….as ‘fundamentalism’, doesn’t even correspond in its rudiments to the holistic programme of Islam. Neither the absolutist monarchy nor the totalitarian suppression of free expression can find any justification in the Qur’an. The sovereign elite keep tight control of the laws, but if it suits their interests they will also turn a blind eye….. But because they keep the holy sites clean and accessible, constantly improving the infrastructure while ensuring the Hajj is less dangerous and more just, the hosts often receive a great deal of approval. ….The Saudis take their role as guardians of the holy mosques and sites very seriously, and shy away from no investment that could result in a safer and more comfortable Hajj. And thus gratitude is as commonly expressed as criticism.

In Mina, as in Mecca, there are hardly any beggars, but the few that were there, were Indians (‘The Indians, always extreme,’ Richard Burton wrote, ‘are either beggars or millionaires’) Up until a few years ago beggars from India were imported especially for Ramadan so that the prescribed generosity for that month wouldn’t fail for lack of recipients. The beggars were apparently professionals….they had to hand over their alms to receive a wage in return……

From ‘Full Circle’ by Michael Palin

The Pacific Ocean covers one-third of the world’s surface and around it lives one-third of the world’s population.

The spontaneity, the music and the infectious need to share feelings is very Russian. Its what makes them great huggers, great embracers, great celebrants of either joy or gloom. Mood-swings are part of the national character and I know of few countries where they are so unconcealed.

……..sixty-seven per cent of Japan remains either forest or woodland

Korean is a central Asian tongue, which has more in common with Hungarian and Finnish than anything oriental.

Korea…. Intense commercial competitiveness (Japanese cars, films and music are banned in Korea) and an almost manic drive to modernize in the international way. (As of last week it became official government policy to convert all Korea’s toilets from squat to Western style.)

….a joke which sums up the national stereotypes.

The scene is a restaurant.

‘Excuse me,’ says the waiter, ‘there is no more beef.’

The North Korean replies, ‘What’s “beef”?’

The Japanese, ‘What’s “no more”?’

And the South Korean ‘What’s “excuse me”?’

As the coach moves off some of the Japanese are already asleep (I’ve never come across a nation which falls asleep so easily)

China …. We are treated to an official banquet tonight. The banquet here, as in Korea and to a certain extent Japan, is a vital part of any business relationship. Unless you can drink a lot in the company of other men who drink a lot you are not really to be trusted.

Our host is the vice-head of the local Foreign Relations Department, which keeps an eye on overseas guests to make sure they have everything they want, except what you don’t want them to have.

The Chinese may tolerate bad surroundings but they won’t tolerate bad food.

Birds are pretty rare in China – outside soup and cages.

John, who’s particularly partial to a bit of stomach, admits that the Chinese will eat most things if they’re cooked properly..

The famous observation on Philippine history: ‘Three hundred years in the convent, fifty years in Hollywood’ …. The Spanish took a firm hold of the islands in 1565. The Americans bought them from the Spanish in 1898. The Filipinos had to wait until 1946 to run their own affairs. Culture, traditions and social attitudes reflect Europe and America. Not the East.

….Manila … a city of ten million, forty-four per cent of whom are officially homeless.

…..the owner…a jolly Filipino (not that I’ve met a Filipino who isn’t jolly)

….Malaysia ….a country run politically by Muslims and economically by the Chinese.

….the famously smelly delicacy durian which, as they say here, ‘smells like him, tastes like her.’

In Java there were eight hundred and fifty people for every square kilometer of land, in Australia, just two.

While its near neighbor Java is one of the newest, least stable and most fertile lands in the world, Australia is one of the oldest, driest, and the most inhospitable.

New Zealand …They [Maoris] called the place Aotearoa – ‘Land of the Long White Cloud’ (which has been adapted by some Maori activists to ‘Land of the Wrong White Crowd’).

As the early European settlers flourished on the rich, well-watered grasslands, Maori numbers fell – by the end of the nineteenth century, from over a hundred thousand to less than forty thousand. Since then they have grown to half a million, and the Europeans to around three million

…Auckland (where almost one in three New Zealanders live)

Chile is not a densely populated country, its just that everyone wants to live in the middle. Santiago and its surrounding heartland are home to seventy per cent of a population of thirteen and a half million. The capital itself has five million people……

The Chuquicamata mine …..Copper production is a hugely wasteful process. Five hundred and fifty thousand tons of rock are extracted every day, of which only 160,000 tons are processed, and only one per cent will contain copper.

….I remember reading in Charles Nicholl’s fine novel, The Fruit Palace: ‘Fifteen million people live in Mexico City and it smells as if they all farted at once’

You’re never alone in Mexico. Never.

From ‘The Myth of Wu Tao-Tzu’ by Sven Lindqvist

Few deserts are so well taken care of as the Australian. Every stone, every bush, every waterhole has its specific owner and custodian, its sacred history and religious significance. Every holy place has its own holy picture.

The eternal truths of Aboriginal religion are expressed in the surrounding landscape…..

‘Following the summer of 1902 came a hard winter. Great numbers of the unemployed formed into processions, as many as a dozen at a time, and daily marched through the streets of London crying for bread.’

That I had never seen in Stockholm. I had never seen ‘tottery old men and women searching in the garbage for rotten potatoes, beans, and vegetables.’

……..Hermann Hesse…….. wrote an article on the task of intellectuals in war……..

The first casualty of war is the truth. Does a Japanese drama become worse because the Japanese fleet has shelled Tsingtao? Has a bad German book become superior to an English book because those countries are at war? …..

That is what they want us to think. We must refuse to participate in this deceit.

It is understandable that politicians and soldiers are blinded by hatred of the enemy. But when intellectuals are also seized by warmongering and write battle poems, boycott ‘enemy’ art and defame whole peoples – who will then defend the truth?

Goethe did not write war poems in 1813. He retained his own inner freedom and followed his intellectual conscience. Anyone who has once believed in the idea of humanity, in the universality of science, in art with no national boundaries, must not betray his conviction now that it is being put to the test. If intellectuals betray spiritual values, war will destroy the foundations of Europe. Someone must uphold peace even if the whole world is at war. Someone must attempt to preserve as much peace as possible – that is the task the future poses today.

Each stroke is irretrievable. Alteration is a mortal sin and a child can spot it. So in calligraphy it is often a matter of waiting, but never hesitating.

Calligraphy is not an art for the rebel. It is based on disciplined spontaneity, inconceivable without rules and doctrine. The doctrine is the sum of tradition: a way of performing. Mastery consists of achieving freedom in relation to tradition. And freedom consists of a kind of assimilation of the rules agreed on, so that no decision from above is necessary. Judgement can be left to the hand.

You no longer support the arrow once it has left the bow, runs an old saying.

So write nothing on the first day. Just look at the character and let it sink into your consciousness. Don’t write on the next day either. Just wait and let your desire work until the knowledge has penetrated throughout your entire body.

Wait until your hand knows it.

And nothing else.

Wait until your hand is empty and everything else has fallen out of it.

But when your entire consciousness embraces the character ande nothing else – then grind the ink, pick up the brush and give your hand the freedom of your heart. And with one strong blow, as if from the tail of a fish, your ‘self’ has vanished.

It is in your hand that everything has to be. At every moment it chooses between a thousand possibilities. It is too late to issue orders. It is not the time to explain. Whatever does not exist stored as experience in your hand is useless. What at that moment does not go up into the movement is irrelevant. Your will can only block. It is useless to draw in air and pump yourself up. It can happen only by itself. We want to draw inside what is beyond our control and thus force it. But what is best will never allow itself to be forced. That can be achieved only in the way the calligrapher achieves it.

Although my arms, legs, head and body still obeyed me, at the same time they added something extra, something quite unnecessary. I wanted to place my hands and feet naturally, but they made certain flourishes of their own, and that resulted in a pose – like at a photographer’s.

Strange! Although I am an ordinary, natural person, I simply couldn’t sit still, and behaved like a bad actor. Theatrical falseness was closer to me than genuine naturalness. They said afterwards that my expression turned stupid and I looked guilty.

‘Lets go on now’, said Tortsov, after I had been tormented enough. ‘But we’ll eventually come back to these exercises and learn to sit still.’

‘Teach us to sit?’ the pupils said in wonder. ‘Wasn’t that what we were doing?’

‘No,’ replied Tortsov firmly. ‘You weren’t content just to sit still.’

‘What should we have done, then?’

Instead of answering, Tortsov quickly got up and walked in a businesslike manner over to the chair, then sank into it as if he were back at home.

Afghanistan – an old tribal society where man is still not subdued. Everyone I meet considers himself to be just as much a human being as I am. After India, this is wonderful, refreshing, an almost unbelievable experience.

Is it their religion? Or is it the mountains? Or that they have never been colonized? It is certainly not a high standard of living and modern civilization. The poverty is profound. Here as everywhere the big farmer, the usurer and the merchant form a steadfast trinity. But there is counterbalance.

‘The rich have traditional duties to the village and the family. That has an economically levelling effect.’

It is said that a travelling foreigner can get shot in Afghanistan. No such risk in India, but I would rather be afraid myself than see others cringe.

The British brought peace and order to India. They created a kind of rule of law, but that also entailed the right of the landowner, the usurer, and the merchant to oppress. It made the masses helpless in the hands of those who had the economic and social advantage.

Guns and a wild determination to use them were what saved the Afghans from being civilized by the British Empire. And nothing but guns and determination will, in a pre-democratic, pre-organized society, guarantee that the interests of the people are to some extent satisfied.

I am a pacifist. But after seeing the fear, the mad fright in Indian eyes, that unnatural abasement both ostentatious and ashamed, but most of all cowed, humiliated and broken – after having been in India, I am glad to see armed peasants.

It must be possible. The prospect of a clearer and freer way of living has always been held out to me. It must exist. I’ve seen it in poetry and pictures. I’ve heard it in music. There’s a fearlessness there which makes my life foolish. There are opportunities for happiness there which frighten me more than unhappiness. There’s an abyss in reverse, and one falls upwards.

Why, then, do I live as I do?

……India ……… But if you don’t hang yourself in your hotel room on the very first evening – and what use would that be? – then a creeping dehumanization occurs. The simplest humanity demands that you try to save the life of another person. In a city where the cleansing department collects the bodies of the dead off the streets at dawn and in uncertain cases turns the sleeping over with a foot to see if they are still alive – in a city of that kind, even the simplest humanity demands too much. You lose faith in it.

From ‘Things can only get Feta. Two journalists and their crazy dog living through the Greek Crisis’ by Marjory McGinn

George Bernard Shaw’s famous quote: ‘I dislike feeling at home when I am abroad.’




Greeks pour onto the beaches in August as this is the month when they take their holidays en masse. Greeks have no issue about crowds and space, unlike the British. We like our personal space and exclusivity, whereas they adore parea, company and closeness, which is why there is no word in the Greek language for ‘privacy’ as we know it. The Oxford Learner’s (Greek English) Dictionary translates privacy with the Greek words for ‘loneliness’ or ‘secrecy’.



….in a culture where dogs are chained to trees night and day, often standing in their own excrement. It was the most frustrating part of the Greek culture for us – the attitude to animals.

From ‘The Wisdom of Compassion. Stories of Remarkable Encounters and Timeless Insights’ by His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Victor Chan

“Some mysterious things certainly there,” the Dalai Lama continued his reply to the rabbi. “We believe that these so-called higher beings have more energy than us. At a practical level, much depend on our own effort. If our effort comes, then some of these positive energies, I think, we can connect. From the Buddhist viewpoint, these higher beings develop higher energy because of their practice of altruism….”




“……reincarnation………If you ask me what explanation Buddhism? Then I will say: life after life. This physical body, together with our grosser mind, cease to exist. But our main mind, this means our more subtle mind, will continue. Another life begins.”



…the Dalai Lama has himself witnessed certain phenomena that his rational mind finds hard to explain…..the death of his senior tutor, Ling Rinpoche, who died at the age of eighty-one …… Although Ling Rinpoche was clinically dead – his breathing had stopped and there was no pulse – he remained in some form of meditation for thirteen days. During this time, the area around his heart remained warm, and his body, unmoving in a meditative pose, showed no signs of deterioration. On the last day, his head dropped and a small amount of blood escaped from his nostrils. The Dalai Lama believed that it was only then that Ling Rinpoche’s consciousness finally left his body.