Written by Divya Sharma
Read moreThe rainbow within
Written by Rinchen Angmo
Rainbow body. What could it possibly mean? I had often come across this term, without being able to fathom how one could logistically turn into a rainbow body. I’m no closer than I was, but I suppose I have given it some thought. After all, if we look close enough, we’re bound to notice the creation of rainbows in our everyday experience of the light and sound show called life.
Different schools of Tibetan Buddhism have their own terminology to express the Buddhist notion of emptiness. From what I understand, the Nyingma school expresses it in the form of a rainbow body.
Read moreOn Dams and Electricity: A Story from Malana
By Sonam C
In the early summer of 2018, right after I had finished my Class 12 CBSE Board exams, I went with my family to the village of Malana. When I recall this time, I instinctively tell people “We went on a spiritual tour, like a pilgrimage.” Hardly, anyone believes that a group consisting of me, my sister, my mother, uncle and aunt, my cousin, her husband and her two kids travelled and trekked to Malana to pay our respects to the local god Jamlu.
Read moreA Mountain Escapade!
apricot blossoms, a note.
-Written by Rinchen Angmo
Spid is the closest possible translation of spring in Ladakhi, yet the aura that the word carries is markedly different. The word spring has this feeling of freshness. Yet when I think of the word for spring in Ladakhi, that is spid, it reminds me of the windy days in April and of course apricot blossoms. According to my Abile (granny) spid aligns with the first three months of our traditional calendar. Typically, spid is characterised by strong winds known as spid lungs or spring winds. Hence, the Ladakhi image of spring is quite different from the one that is conjured by the English word.
Read moreOught to know something about autumn, ya?
-Written and photographed by Rinchen Angmo
Seasons, they come and go, just like the thoughts in my mind. Even feelings come and go, but they stay a while longer than thoughts do. Yellow leaves, do they make me think of different songs?
Somehow even when I’m not in my homeland, my mind invariably registers different months vis-à-vis the seasons of my homeland. May, there will be apricot blossoms in Ladakh; June, the weather in Ladakh will be pleasant; October, the leaves will turn yellow; December, it will be very cold in Ladakh. That’s why no matter where I am, my mind always understands different months through the lens of the different seasons of Ladakh.
The love-hate relationship between Himachal and the monsoon.
Written by Drishti.
It’s been fourteen days since that night when I witnessed the fields of my grandmother turn into debris. The lush green plants that used to crown those fields have now disappeared. What remains now are uprooted plants merged with soil and water flowing over them. The groundwater, surging from an overcharged aquifer, displayed a relentless determination to escape onto the Earth’s surface, washing the fields away. The night of 13th August 2023 will remain unforgettable. The fear of the unknown robbed me of sleep and caused my heart to pound. At the crack of dawn, I came out to check on the aftermath of the night. In front of my eyes lay the remains of the hard work of my guardians. Many emotions coursed through me, but the prevailing feeling was that of thankfulness for our survival. This incident had occurred when I was at my grandparents’ house near Garloni, which is about 4 km from Rewalsar town. Our phones were out of network for two days, and there was no electricity. Amid the rain, it was challenging to go out and find a spot with good network. But the urge to talk to my parents and loved ones kept me going out frequently. An old radio of my grandfather’s found a purpose after years of neglect; the news bulletin informed us that the situation in other places was much worse.
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