Prasanta Behera Blog

Journey to Mount Kilimanjaro After hiking Mount Whitney in October, 2018 , I had an urge to listen to mountains more and more. Towards the end of our trip, a friend of mine asked if I was interested to go to Mount Kilimanjaro. It is the tallest mountain in Africa with an altitude of 19,341 feet. Many people climb it - young and old and so it was a good challenge to take on and I signed up. There are three phases to any mountain climbing trip; 1) Training, 2) Preparation and 3) The journey. Each one is unique in its own way. It teaches us different things. Training:  This is the hardest phase.  For last 9+ months,  during the weekdays, I went to the gym early in the morning (5:30 am) for an hour to do cardio and strength training. During the weekends, I hiked on Saturdays (8-20 miles) and biked for 35-50 miles on Sundays. Most of the time, I hiked and biked on my own, which I enjoy. Training is the hard part; on days when you do not feel like it, you still have ...

[Note: This is my last blog for this year. I will take a 9 months sabbatical to focus on few projects ... Thank you for your support. I wrote this poem last year but it feels more appropriate to publish it now] ========== Atheist (Poem) The temples do not call me anymore the mountains do The rhythm of chanting do not speak to me but the silence of mountain do The smell of incense do not make me meditate but each step in the dusty hiking path do I do believe in the divine forces of universe I am an insignificant drop in the vastness of ocean a dust in the peaks of mountain an epoch in the cosmic grandeur unfathomable beyond imagination. I still go to temples for my social obligation bow to few idols and listen to few songs but once I leave, no experience stays with me except the beautiful architecture and history. The mountain welcomes all unlike the halls of temple and synagogue caste and color, local or foreigner do not matter after all, we all are from the ...

Trail Hundreds of trails I have hiked many have I befriend and speak birds roaming in skies, silent with watchful eyes squirrels laying the open nuts along the sides. Each trail is unique, named and unnamed TonyLook, Limekiln, Priest rock, Black mountain each bounded by a distance. Most of the time, it is hike from start to finish walking along, enjoying the view with pain and smile sometimes when a fork comes in the path of journey unknown, unframed signpost, a decision lingers in mind. Is it the craziness in me or the poetry of Frost I like to venture in the unmarked trail a bit more go to some distance and see what lies ahead there must be something good, a hiker’s joy! Strolling in a park with friends in spring a small lake and few trails leading to hills saw a trail signpost labeled “Trail ends in bench” For some, it was clearly a trail of perfect match a small walk, a bench at the end to rest and enjoy. Yet, I pondered what makes this trail unique a narrow path leading up to a...

Third eye My mother said she prayed to Shiva for six years, staying up nights for a child to unshackle from the pressure of barrenness. I was born on seventh, I guess a blessed event! When I was a child, I heard stories of Shiva; glories from the mountains of Himalayas; demons destroyed and battles fought. When I became a young adult I learnt the power and oddities, the opium to pacify and the nectar to save the dancing damsels and the dance of death. When I became an adult I questioned the dualities; the women and Men, the creator and destroyer the significant and contradictory acts. Unanswered, unrevealed questions remain yet, Shiva exists between present and emptiness. In the years between youth and adulthood age of innocence and self identification dreams and imaginations raced along I dreamt, I wished I had a third eye like Shiva I would have the power to do good like Phantom or Superman or Bahadur(*) no one would touch me in school or elsewhere. I could...

Beyond the end point (Poem) Confluenced by a ocean and two seas an end point of my old country a lonely rock two thousands yards in the sea hundred years ago,  a soul sat and meditated he could looked beyond the end point found answers, inspired millions. Standing at the rock, the view is wide bodies of water on all three sides  sunrise and sunset are glorious each day one can only meditate in this beautiful place what do I see beyond the end point, I question? Northerly-east wind blows is swirls palm trees doing their dance in curls the birds circling over from land to sea a church, a mosque and a temple near the beach each one asserting with voices of heaven What do you claim at this end point? I pondered myself standing at this point what exists in land, merges with the ocean what brews in ocean migrate to land the cycle exists and will exist I am just a small part of it there is no “end” in this end-point I will be in the ocean at some point. ...

Band-Aid (Poem) Lately I notice, I am getting a cut while slicing a cucumber or carving a pineapple when opening a can or fixing broken equipment my wife tells me every time to be careful but four out of ten, I end up in the same fateful most of time I do not tell anyone but when I get caught, I get reminded again “You are worse than your children” “Nothing to worry, it happens”, I say show the cut finger properly wrapped a paper napkin, all that is needed. I was cutting a pineapple last December slicing the skin like a master woodcutter got distracted and  finger got cut before I could hide it, I got caught my daughter said “Dad, I can’t believe you did it again” she rushed to to get a band-aid and medicine I told her not to tell her mom else no pineapple for three months. Last month she moved to her own apartment empty nesters life begins again what will I do now if I get a cut again putting the band-aid will never be same I promise to be careful going...

Mt Whitney (Poem) Darkness of summer stretched afar unstarry night, coldness biting hissing wind, fluttering leaves hikers with headlights, tapping spikes a wooden gate, a small trail awaits Is there a mountain behind the veil of darkness imagination and anxiety, prevail. Every step becomes harder every breath becomes dearer noise becomes silence trees become distant wind becomes friend struggle brews between mind and body  body questions the forward move each time sprit says few steps to heaven, continue and then sunrise happens. Switchback after switchback ninety-nine of them, to climb only two thousand life is like that, one turn after another unknown becomes known then unknown keep making the turns, life beacons hours of slow march to the mountain top few minutes to watch the view that’s all I got I am alone in this vast painted view a dot, a dust, unknown traveler barren mountains emptiness surrounds climbing down, I lay my gratitude. few footmarks I may have left Mt. Whitn...

Traditions (Poem) Today there is an uproar in the state two young women dared to enter the temple where only men and old women could enter “The God could be lured by young damsels”, men say that is the tradition why women were barred to pray, then Gods are no better than Men, desire stricken Men are worse than Gods, rules we do not question traditions need to change! One black woman dared to sit in the front white men made an uproar, violent acts followed not to break the traditions of blinded racism struggled brewed, thousands died equality, a struggle still in flame traditions need to change! Few women marched in long silence to make it count in the existence Men cajoled, why do it now, go back to kitchen thousands marched, for voting rights hundred years of struggle still in fight many places women cannot vote yet why women are constrained by society of men traditions need to change! Few women dared to speak of past advantage men took while at work #MeT...