Deccan Herald, Sunday, 06 June 2010
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/73550/bustling-colours-amp-bagpipes.html
My eyes are closed. I am aware only of a cold autumnal breeze caressing my face. I take a long whiff of the crisp air and open my eyes, rejuvenated. In front of me, far away, I see a curtain of fog slowly revealing in its translucency, the unmistakable outlines of a fortress. As if hypnotised, the cloud of mist sways to the light filtering in from the street lamps in the distance. The moonlight waltzes in, making the ramparts of the fort suddenly shine out in splendour. It is mesmerising, this sensuous dance between the elements.
Such a magical welcome sparked my romance with Edinburgh almost immediately. Even the taxi ride felt dramatic. The moon was generous with her light and each cobblestone, smoothened with use, glistened its age. The dark, the empty streets, the narrow lanes, the high walls, higher church spires and those cobbles, all told tales many years old. It was as if I was in the 17th century, riding in my horse drawn carriage, as we rumbled through the city. Hiding every now and again around road bends and behind those impressive stone buildings, the fortress on the other side continued its company with us. Never could I ignore its magnificence.
In a city with such a rich heritage, I did not need a plan. Before I knew it, I was down the famous Royal Mile. If the place looked like a dream at night, in bright daylight it looked like a sunflower in full bloom. The market place was vibrant. People were dressed in all colours and wonder of wonders, they all wore a smile. It made sense really. Amid such beauty there couldn’t be room for much more than happiness and goodwill. To prove me right, the bagpipes broke out just then. Three men complete in tartan highland gear turned a regular shopping-spree into grand festivity.
Hoisted atop Castle Rock along the mighty crags of the North Sea, the fort had already impressed upon me its timeless majesty. At 1 ‘o’ clock, it also imposed its power. A loud boom echoed in the mile and a cannon ball unleashed new fantasies. My young son was most wonderful throughout. It was as if even he had enjoyed every moment of the day.
Away from the concrete and plasterboard reality of our automated lives, here is a legacy, treasured with love. In spite of a few modern restorations, the rustic, sophisticated charm and wizardry of an ancient architecture held their own supremacy. No number of tempered glass sheets or shining granite could fade the dignity of this fantastic structure.
The gentle breeze came in again and we settled, by the port of Leith, to traditional haggis and dram (meat pie and peat-smoked scotch whiskey) and smoked salmon. Soon enough, though, the castle yonder, beckoned.
The bagpipers returned and we matched step for step, entranced in the mere awareness of walking through a history that dates back to the 9th century, and a culture that keeps it forever young and exuberant.
The Castle itself, though, is steeped in stories of conflict. From the Scottish Independence wars of the 14th century and the Jacobite Uprising in the 18th, this fort has had a strong military presence that continues.
Earlier in the day, if the numerous regimental museums within the castle had my fauji upbringing bursting with a strong sense of bonding, the National War Museum of Scotland also within the ramparts, had set the tone for what makes this palace most famous among tourist circles today – one reason we were there.
And here is why it has all come alive to me again: tickets for the 2010 chapter of the fabulously colourful annual Edinburgh Festival are already flying out of booking desks. And this year is specially significant as the ceremonial Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo (part of the festival) will regale crowds nearing 250,000 in its diamond jubilee year celebrations. On the Esplanade, bagpipes and drums of Scottish regiments and other regimental bands from four continents will converge again in dream-like formations and military precision, to enthrall the spectators in the fort and those viewing them on television screens across the globe.
Amidst all the fever and gusto, one cannot forget for even a moment, what this establishment stands for. What started centuries ago as a ‘last call of the day’ for tavern owners to shut shop so battle-weary soldiers could return to restful quarters, became a customary form of appointed entertainment over the years. Today, the event is so coveted that artists invited from around the world perform throughout the festival season. The military focus remains as unwavering as the awe that this brilliant spectrum of culture and festivity inspires.
Grudgingly, we had to shake free of the spell that this surreal experience of sea, rock and spectacle is, as the lone piper atop the castle battlement paid tribute to comrades killed at war. The retreat that followed was marked by Scottish tunes that, strangely, keep a constant romance simmering in the soul.
The Indian Army band made us proud with their ‘scintillating moves’ and ‘mesmerising’ performance at the 2008 show as did the Indian Navy band last year. The regalia this year promises to be just as exhilarating – see what it is all about at: http://www.eif.co.uk/, http://www.edintattoo.co.uk/
~
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/73550/bustling-colours-amp-bagpipes.html
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/73550/bustling-colours-amp-bagpipes.html
My eyes are closed. I am aware only of a cold autumnal breeze caressing my face. I take a long whiff of the crisp air and open my eyes, rejuvenated. In front of me, far away, I see a curtain of fog slowly revealing in its translucency, the unmistakable outlines of a fortress. As if hypnotised, the cloud of mist sways to the light filtering in from the street lamps in the distance. The moonlight waltzes in, making the ramparts of the fort suddenly shine out in splendour. It is mesmerising, this sensuous dance between the elements.
Such a magical welcome sparked my romance with Edinburgh almost immediately. Even the taxi ride felt dramatic. The moon was generous with her light and each cobblestone, smoothened with use, glistened its age. The dark, the empty streets, the narrow lanes, the high walls, higher church spires and those cobbles, all told tales many years old. It was as if I was in the 17th century, riding in my horse drawn carriage, as we rumbled through the city. Hiding every now and again around road bends and behind those impressive stone buildings, the fortress on the other side continued its company with us. Never could I ignore its magnificence.
In a city with such a rich heritage, I did not need a plan. Before I knew it, I was down the famous Royal Mile. If the place looked like a dream at night, in bright daylight it looked like a sunflower in full bloom. The market place was vibrant. People were dressed in all colours and wonder of wonders, they all wore a smile. It made sense really. Amid such beauty there couldn’t be room for much more than happiness and goodwill. To prove me right, the bagpipes broke out just then. Three men complete in tartan highland gear turned a regular shopping-spree into grand festivity.
Hoisted atop Castle Rock along the mighty crags of the North Sea, the fort had already impressed upon me its timeless majesty. At 1 ‘o’ clock, it also imposed its power. A loud boom echoed in the mile and a cannon ball unleashed new fantasies. My young son was most wonderful throughout. It was as if even he had enjoyed every moment of the day.
Away from the concrete and plasterboard reality of our automated lives, here is a legacy, treasured with love. In spite of a few modern restorations, the rustic, sophisticated charm and wizardry of an ancient architecture held their own supremacy. No number of tempered glass sheets or shining granite could fade the dignity of this fantastic structure.
The gentle breeze came in again and we settled, by the port of Leith, to traditional haggis and dram (meat pie and peat-smoked scotch whiskey) and smoked salmon. Soon enough, though, the castle yonder, beckoned.
The bagpipers returned and we matched step for step, entranced in the mere awareness of walking through a history that dates back to the 9th century, and a culture that keeps it forever young and exuberant.
The Castle itself, though, is steeped in stories of conflict. From the Scottish Independence wars of the 14th century and the Jacobite Uprising in the 18th, this fort has had a strong military presence that continues.
Earlier in the day, if the numerous regimental museums within the castle had my fauji upbringing bursting with a strong sense of bonding, the National War Museum of Scotland also within the ramparts, had set the tone for what makes this palace most famous among tourist circles today – one reason we were there.
And here is why it has all come alive to me again: tickets for the 2010 chapter of the fabulously colourful annual Edinburgh Festival are already flying out of booking desks. And this year is specially significant as the ceremonial Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo (part of the festival) will regale crowds nearing 250,000 in its diamond jubilee year celebrations. On the Esplanade, bagpipes and drums of Scottish regiments and other regimental bands from four continents will converge again in dream-like formations and military precision, to enthrall the spectators in the fort and those viewing them on television screens across the globe.
Amidst all the fever and gusto, one cannot forget for even a moment, what this establishment stands for. What started centuries ago as a ‘last call of the day’ for tavern owners to shut shop so battle-weary soldiers could return to restful quarters, became a customary form of appointed entertainment over the years. Today, the event is so coveted that artists invited from around the world perform throughout the festival season. The military focus remains as unwavering as the awe that this brilliant spectrum of culture and festivity inspires.
Grudgingly, we had to shake free of the spell that this surreal experience of sea, rock and spectacle is, as the lone piper atop the castle battlement paid tribute to comrades killed at war. The retreat that followed was marked by Scottish tunes that, strangely, keep a constant romance simmering in the soul.
The Indian Army band made us proud with their ‘scintillating moves’ and ‘mesmerising’ performance at the 2008 show as did the Indian Navy band last year. The regalia this year promises to be just as exhilarating – see what it is all about at: http://www.eif.co.uk/, http://www.edintattoo.co.uk/
~
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/73550/bustling-colours-amp-bagpipes.html
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