::ThoughtFarm::

McLeodganj is best known as the headquarters of the Tibetan Government in Exile and home of the 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso.McLeodganj,which was built by the Britishers is named after Lieutenant Governor of Punjab “David McLeod”, and “Forsyth Ganj”, named after a Divisional Commissioner.

We took a night bus from Manali and reached McLeodganj just before dawn. In the bus except for us three and the driver , the entire bus was filled with foreign tourists especially from Israel and Europe.

Reaching McLeodganj at 5 am , we started looking out for a hotel and were really fortunate to find a good samaritan in Mr.Tashi Khangsar who not only gave us a room at his motel , but also volunteered to take us to the Buddhist prayer temple nearby.

On our way , he just casually pointed to the Sun rising out of the snow-cad Himalayan peaks. It was everyday affair for him but we three just stood there completely mesmerized. For those who are born and brought up in Mumbai , it was a compelling sight.

In the prayer temple , the sight was not unlike any other Hindu temple with statues of God Shankar, Laxmi and even Ganesha. Tashi Khangsar explained us that in Buddhism they too worship the same deities along with Buddha.All Buddhist temples have these huge payer bells which keep on continuously rotating.They are supposed to contain sacred shlokas and mantras and it is believed that by rotating these bells the wishes and offerings of the worshipers reach heaven.

All around the temples , there are stones lying around with beautiful pictures and ancient Buddhist writings sculpted on them.

We also visited the Namgyal Monastery, Dip Se Chok-Ling Gompa,Dalai Lama’s residence,the famous Bhagsu Temple and church of St John-in-the-Wilderness

Marvelously scenic, especially upper Dharamsala is well wooded with oak, cedar, pine and other timber yielding trees and offers some lovely walks and finer views. We just strolled aroud the town which contains more foreign tourists than Indian ones at any time of year.

Once in Mcleodganj one should relish the traditional Tibetian food consisting of Momos and thupkas.The momo actually quite resembles the maharashtrian dish of “Modaks” especially made during the Ganesh festivals,except that these people stuff non-veg inside it, though veg momos are available too.

McLeodganj Bazaar is great place to shop for carpets and handicrafts (metalware, jewellery, jackets, handknitted cardigans and gloves).The second day after lunch we spent a lot of time exploring the shops.I myself got some T-Shirts ,Souvenirs and Buddhist prayer flags.

Everywhere in Mcleodganj one can see signs of “Free Tibet” slogans and campaigns. The fact that India has given asylum to the Tibetians who have been forced off their own land by the chinese is a thorn in the Indo-China relations and subject of many a political debates.

I couldn’t believe my eyes, when I first saw her…..

She was wearing a simple red dress with a white scarf over her head, which was unsuccessfully trying to hide her smooth blonde hair. Also she was carrying a brown colored suitcase and a small brown purse that loosely hung over her shoulder.

I had least expected such a beautiful visitor at this time of the night, and instinctively kept down the book that I was reading and stared at her.
She stood there very real close to me, her eyes searching for something……

{Ok…..i agree she might have been not that close ……..but as I repeat this “exciting” experience that I had , she seems to be getting closer and closer to me}

It was 11pm in the night on 21st May. During those days I was working on a very critical analytical project (Or at least that was what was written on my CV) and my boss understood (after a few tries) that it was not possible to send me by email as attachment from Mumbai to Bangalore & hence I had boarded the Udyan Express.

While traveling alone, most men (Read: Me and my friend Sree) harbor a fantasy that some blonde Supermodel is going to occupy the adjoining berth along with her micro mini skirt. Though this chick was no Kate Moss she was attractive enough.

Anyways coming back to our story ::

She looked at me a bit confused and asked, “Is this berth 21, Coach AS-2 ? ”.
I was still staring at her & thanking my good stars for the gorgeous company they had provided me with on an otherwise boring night.
Looking that I hadn’t replied, she thrust forward her ticket towards me and said “ Hey Mr., is this berth 21 coach AS-2…… I think you are occupying my berth.”
The shock of loosing my berth evaporated all the romantic fantasies my mind had been making and I came back to reality.
“ No Miss, I have the ticket for berth 21” and I started to search for my ticket.
As usual I had misplaced the reservation ticket.
For some reasons I have never been able to keep the things in their proper places since childhood.
For example recently I went to an interview only to find that I had not got my certificate folder. But that dint matter since the only certificate in my certificate folder is a “Healthy baby” certificate.
{ In all of my 23 years , I had been able to garner only one solitary certificate which states that I was a whopping 8 pounds at the time of my birth }

After searching for about 15 mins I finally located it & to my dismay found that even though it was Berth 21 it was in AS-3 and not in AS-2.
Now slowly this dream was turning in to a nightmare.
I caught up with the T.C. & explained him the situation.
The T.C. said, “So you are the moron who left his seat unoccupied from Mumbai in AS-3. I was looking out for you for quite some time. Anyways I have given it to another guy & that means you have to convince someone else to give you space”.
Horrified by this, I returned to my seat only to find that our beauty queen had removed both my bags from my seat and put them on ground and was about to go asleep.
I resisted but frankly couldn’t say anything to her.
Asking her to share the berth with me would have brought back my fond dreams, but I knew my own waist properly to realize that I myself only somehow manage to sleep alone on a single berth (and trip at least twice in the night).
A good-natured sardarji offered his suitcase which was large enough to fill in the belongings of one single house. I doubled it as my stool and sat on it as my gorgeous visitor slept away on my comfortable berth.

After 20 mins of serious load & stress testing (Read: my sitting), the suitcase too gave up (or rather gave down) and I was without a seat again.
After what I did or happened with the Sardarji’s suitcase, other passengers also became apprehensive about helping me.
Finally I was standing practically the entire night; just a couple of feet away from my original berth & that was how my life’s first “One night stand” with a beauty went about.