“Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” -Mary Ritter Beard
Everyone rejoices in traveling and some people conduct themselves into traveling. These are the kinds who do not travel like strangers to any place, any road or any territory. They fashion everything into their own as if they hail from everywhere. They know they belong from the one giant universe which is created by the same source who or which created them. We call them by many names- wanderers, gypsies, vagabonds, ramblers and in whatever vivid way each soul perceives them as. To me they are healers and I’ve been fortunate to the core to be a part of and to have known such crazy, abundant souls.
Looking at them from an eagle’s eye I realize, they are like Santa Claus, thus I chose to call them ‘Santa’s Angels’. They carry with them an impalpable crate brimming with titbits for each and everyone – love, smiles, melody, euphoria, serenity, hope, consciousness, empowerment, poise; you name it and they have it. Now, what does this mean? I illuminate this as “when I look into your eyes I see the universe staring back at me and it is a grand honor to do so.” This is the fervor, the impeccable vehemence, Kite Manja seduced my psyche with from afar off the establishment, (in terms of energy and connection) to a world where everyone there belonged and that’s how we are connected, we still belong together.
My journey with Kite Manja came to pass from Ziro Music Festival, Arunachal Pradesh, 2014. After almost twelve hours of overnight bus journey on quite a bumpy road, (I thought it was bumpy until I started off from North Lakhimpur to Hapoli Village) and then five hours of journey from North Lakhimpur to Hapoli village. We travelled amidst waterfalls flowing in every direction one could see, reaching heights where floating heaps of clouds welcomed us and landslides happening every two kilometers.
We reached the venue in the afternoon. As I reached the campsite with two backpacks almost pulling me down with every step I took, I spotted a vivaciously smiling face heading towards us. Needless to mention the efficacy of such a gesture, especially when one is a tenderfoot to a backdrop. My heart had eased by then by the infectious vibe of the surrounding. We had been allotted our tent to be shared with a vibrant Delhite chic who turned out to be a bosom friend in the course of our stay and forevermore.
After settling our backpacks in our tent, I chose to sit under the common shack area relishing the flavour of the locale. Sweeping in all directions I could see people from all sects of life, atypical, unconventional and entirely compatible. What anchored us all was our fondness for music, beyond language and cultures and the wanderlust in each one of us. We were all like newborns, curious and eager to embrace the new, the unknown. On top of that, there was this whistling wind to make us feel as euphoric as one would never have envisioned in reality.
After a little gulping of the local rice beer, we set out towards the two stages. There was one stage for Western music and another for folk – both justly set according to their genres. On the direction opposed to these two stages were the local stalls of local food, varieties of rice beer, handloom and handicraft, which in point of fact didn’t contribute much to my adrenalin rush as much as the all so lovely people, the fervor of the space and the music did. It was as if we were bound by an invisible chord of oneness and of discovering the core of everything we could.
We were defying the mightiest determinant of mortality- the time factor, escaping into life from life and as the sun set the majesty unfolded into its superlative stature.
One can see the vast blue airspace change its colours from tempting turquoise to night of navy, a tinge of grey to blinding, darkening black and merging with these alterations of Mother Nature the temperament of the Kite Manja campsite was replicating with rhythm. People grooving to tunes of varied genres, cultures and languages. Every moment was a moment of surprise and revelation.
Peace and tranquillity so prevailed, no sleep stood in need of it. Besides the festival, Kite Manja held its manja (string) laudably symmetrized ensuring merriment, gaiety, an aura of emancipation in its deepest exposition. For three days life flattered likes a boon from the abode of the saints, waking up to a greater boon with no denouement.
Thus, began my journey with these ‘Angels of Santa’ and the odyssey prevails. It’s culture, truth, our roots and the magnificence and mysticism of being ourselves- the natives. So, be immersed in TRUTH, find your “tribe,” and prepare for transformation!
