Leisurely Musings of a Wandering Mind

... but her eyes are yours

2012-01-17T21:38:00.003+05:30

You came back in flashes,
among the vastness of the land;
in the dark silhouettes of a falling dusk;
dancing in the amber glow
of a dying winter fire.

The fog lifts, as the light shines,
illuminating the dusty turquoise door;
She peeps from the corner
the folds of her scarf held firmly,
between her teeth,
but her eyes are yours.

Rajasthan Notes: Acts of Kindness

2012-01-08T20:45:00.002+05:30

Looking back on the2500kms of roads traversed in Rajasthan in the winter of 2011, the allpervading laughter still rings distant as a murmur. The conversations, likedust, seems to have gently settled in the cracks of the days passed by. The silences however seep into this moment asI write this, warm and somewhat still reminiscent of the desert sun on chillywinter mornings.

As a traveler, whileI do seek the names of people theygradually fade away from memory and with time so does their faces. What staysintact are the isolated moments of the myriad ways they touched me for justthat instant in time. This is a tribute to some of those people, some picturesand some just words.

A nameless band of 'truck bhaiyyas' [Truck drivers] These are agroup of people who helped us fix our car, gave us direction and set us on theright roads and sometimes just gave merry company for a meal at a Dhaba[highway eating joints popularly found in north India]. Also the famed 'Rajasthani' hospitality bestowed uponus here and there, through ubiquitous cup of steaming tea.

The musicians, mostof them playing in tourist hotspots, but what set Birjuapart [outside of his brilliant tomato red 'safa'] was his deep melancholiccountenance and his disinterest in the world around. He played on his 'Chikara' a 3 stringed instrument in silencelooking around but meeting no one's eye in particular. We sat there andlistened to him for a long while, just to internalize a little of his music andperhaps a bit of his soul.

The mustard fieldsnear Behror, where we wandered in for a Sunset and was invited into thehousehold of Kamala, Nirmala & Vimala and their children for cups of pipinghot tea. They invited us to stay, two strangers they willingly opened theirhouse and hearts to. We visited them on the way back as well, they insisted wehave a meal, if not then at least carry back some flour (made of Bajra/PearlMillet) for the road ahead.

The open heartednessof many a 'dhaba bhaiyya' [bhaiyya beinga popular north Indian term for elder brother] who would whip up a meal at theearly hours of the morning on many a roads along the way. A flurry of acts of random kindness is whatmakes journeys such as these stay on for much after the road runs out. I hopein our own small ways, we made our way into the hearts of these people, aswell.

smoke

2011-12-01T14:37:00.001+05:30

And I sit and watch a man smoke,
Under the tin roof, by the way
With each breath, that tiny amber glow
fighting in the gathering gray

And the wind picks up the smoke trails
He exhales, yet again,
Letting go a bit of his soul
In the approaching gloom of the rain.

I sit by his side,
Partaking in the smoke
And share his blank stare
Fixed on the silence … unimaginably broke.

Ladakh

2011-11-01T01:38:00.000+05:30

The motions of eking out a living today, seemed to get belittled by the morning sun peeping out over the Himalayas. It send forth its golden rays right to me across the lake and reassured me that for now I should be ready to give up illusions of influencing a future and the present was all that there ever will be.

It seemed to mock my lack of courage, my inherent insecurity at being able to survive this terrain and yet there is a comforting warmth that spreads as it dispels the cold around. The water gradually turns from a dull grey to a vivid blue harkening the onset of another new day.

It always seems easier to write about a place in hindsight, to stitch together pieces from memory and paint a picture of a feeling that lingered a while ago, a shadow of which gets written about. Some of that feeling dissipates and a bit of it gets carried around, a reminder, to one conscious moment of complete gratitude and humility of being alive. Of one moment of experiencing that oneness with the Universe as a tiny speck floating about, contended, and at peace.

Ladakh was one such experience and more, the spirituality that a place of vast beauty holds is powerful to say the least. But what is even more intriguing is how that peace you carry from here, lends itself in the oddest of moments months and perhaps years later, to hold you together.

...for tonight, is another night

2011-10-27T06:25:00.003+05:30

I looked out longingly,
to the sea of city lights
shimmering in the rich darkness
in the stillness of the night.

there is a puerile thought,
of keeping the day at bay
and perhaps I'd live this moment awhile
if only I had it my way.

and the sweeping change that time brings
from the dark, to the gray, to the lights within
the daybreak unfolded, the clouds hung low,
almost as if the mountains
cast a furrowed look below.

somewhere while i grieved
the loss of warmth of that night
a rainbow cast itself, soulful in the morning light

Peering out of running trains

2011-07-18T11:43:00.004+05:30

The darkness looms on the horizon,
shadowy forms of shrubs
dot the pathway,
As you peer out,
a little gingerly at first,
and then with a firmer grip
on the side bar, you look out.

And watch the train,
curving along its way home.
The amber lights of the signals;
a beacon in the dark, recedes fast.
And with it perhaps a piece of you
departs without a sound.
While the wind plays it own tune
to the rattle and hum of the wheels,
And in tandem you take a deep breath
to try and stall the wind,
somewhere in your mind.

And through glazed eyes,
the wind carries you, to a time,
when hanging out of a train, peering,
did actually hold a thrill.

Letters to Lois: Daura & Longa Thatch

2011-05-31T20:59:00.008+05:30

The trek from Maylee to Daura Thatch that day would take us to 11,300 ft at the highest campsite of the entire route. While the route itself was quite uneventful, the snow peaks around seemed more at eye-level. The route had by then curved around to overlook Manali and everything in the town seemed awfully tiny. We sat around on rocks for one last time in the forests before reaching Daura from where largely the great white expanse of the snow starts, overlooking the blue faraway mountains and the Kullu Valley.

We reached Daura, got rid of the backpacks and started trekking ahead towards Pandav Rocks located at roughly 12,000 ft. At some point I sat by and stared for a long time at the soaring eagles circling about the mountains, graceful in their flight. Riding the cold wind, rising, falling with an enviable ease and a sense of freedom I longed for, beyond a two week hiatus.

The next day's trek to Longa Thatch was perhaps a long one, made awfully pleasant with all the snow. We attacked each other with numerous snowballs, made snow angels and slid down the mountain sides with great gusto at 12,700ft close to the Saurkhundi pass and the highest point of the trek. Somewhere along this route, i think we all left behind a little bit of our inhibitions, let go a little more and re-discovered being a child just for a bit.

Letters to Lois: Maylee Thatch

2011-05-25T23:43:00.007+05:30

Dear Lois,

Dawn broke at Hora, dewy and quiet. I took my time this morning, sitting on a log, just ruminating among the pines, listening to music and losing myself. The path from Hora to Maylee, curved its way through forest patches along a tiny lake, where we spotted out first patch of snow.

We all stuck out walking sticks into that little patch, triumphantly like cruel children, marring the pristine beauty of that patch of snow. Maylee Thatch is about 10,500 ft and the cold was beginning to tell even as we sweated in the trek. The beauty of most of these walks were the solitude and once in a while that little patch of sunlight to call your own.

I sat around the forest much, mostly alone and wondered how fiercely protective I was about my solitude and then just like that I let go and welcomed company. These are the moments when you make the most precious of human connections, unmarred by creed, beliefs, disposition and far removed from the rational parameters we usually apply. These are times when I air my insecurities unbridled and almost always hear an echo back, and in that fleeting moment, just for that instant form something beautiful and deeper than pure recognition.

Letters to Lois - Hora Thatch

2011-05-20T22:00:00.012+05:30

Dear Lois,

Dawn broke today, with ominous clouds on the horizon after a night of torrential downpour. As we started, the sun peeked through briefly and then went back into slumber behind the clouds. The road to Hora started with the village of Segli with its wood and slate houses and colorful looms and smiling people gathered here and there in each other's porches.

The village quickly gave way to the pine forests, it was here that the rain moved from a pleasant drizzle to a downpour. We huddled under a plastic sheet to break for lunch. The silence as we ate was broken only by the pitter patter of the rain on the plastic. It was sheer music, peppered now and then by someone giggling or a word in jest.

As we waited for the rain to let up, I stepped out, just to feel it on my face, to be grateful for the all encompassing poncho (generously lent by Vivek Rengaraj) and the joy of splashing in the rain again. We started our hike into the pine forests in the rain.

After a long while, the rain finally let up just about enough for the clouds to move in and envelop the pines in an eerie mist. It was in this mist that we reached the campsite located at 9000 feet. This remains my favourite campsite of them all. Tall pines surrounded the little yellow tents with sheep grazing around them. It was then that I saw your note.

Hot mugs of tomato soup were passed along with hotter debates on life and times. And gradually as day light faded and the mist blew away, the night gave us the most brilliantly lit sky with a sliver of a moon. As i sat out alone, gazing and feeling supremely blessed, I thought I saw a shooting star, but was too awestruck to wish upon it. Besides, when you behold a sky like that, it feels odd to want more.

Letters to Lois - Segli Camp

2011-05-19T21:45:00.011+05:30

Dear Lois,

I received your note today, as I stepped into Segli Camp. Despite the cold mountain vista in front and 7000ft of chill, it warmed me to the bone. These letters remain (much after the trek) my way of reciprocating to your notes left at each camp.

The trek from Babeli (7kms off Kullu, HP, India) to Segli, was an easy walk, made easier with the peppy group of thirteen to keep company. The diversity of the group was much subdued by the common purpose at hand. Not surprisingly, you (and Merwyn) were subject of much discussion and for a while I did wish I was with you guys. Over the days, this however waned and as I write this I understand that this trek could not have been any other way for me.

We walked through the villages of ‘Baragram’, ‘Sokhni’ and ‘Nyalag’ today meeting children on their way to school and elderly people sporting their toothy grins and generous offers of buttermilk. Had a brush with stinging nettles in the quest for a shot of the shy beetle and spent quite a time going berserk itching.

The highlight was the pine forest though; I spent a considerable time alone here. Just soaking in the tall pines that made me feel tiny, their luscious green tips painted golden in the sun. The mighty snowcapped Himalayas loomed just in the horizon beyond. The emptiness of the mind was such a delicious feeling; and then I opened my heart to Enya’s “May it be” from the Lord of the Rings Soundtrack. That music I bear in my heart, long after the pines and mountains have receded as a longing memory.

A note about the trek

I joined the Youth Hostels of India Trek to Saurkhundi Pass this May and above is an account of that, in the form of ‘Letters to Lois’. Lois was this incredibly sweet girl I met who was in the group before mine and left me the sweetest notes at each camp as she left and I arrived.

The trek was roughly 45kms over a span of 8 days starting at 4000 feet above m.s.l. and scaling up to 12700 feet above m.s.l. through hamlets, mountain sides, pine forests, meadows and finally a great white expanse of snow.

...two drifters

2011-05-19T21:42:00.000+05:30

'...two drifters off to see the world,
there's such a lot of world to see...'
Sinatra's voice mellow, flows into my being;
In an otherwise quiet himachal bus.

Wisps of haze rise afar
And paints streaks of longing in the sky,
The approaching night hesitates a little on the horizon
Seemingly long enough,
For the colors of the twilight to entwine
In one last embracing waltz
Fading with Sinatra's melody.

Kumara Parvatha or Pusphagiri Trek

2011-03-22T07:26:00.019+05:30

Gradually I let go of my thoughts, mundane reminders of an employed existence and feel the system gradually hum to a stop along with that of the bus engine at Kukke Subramanya. The neon sign of "Neo Mysore Hotel" greets us. Six people landed to make their way to Kumara Parvatha or the Pushpagiri Peak to walk 26kms and a 5600 ft (1712 m) ascent.

Trek Route
We took the route from Kukke, which is supposed to be the more difficult route as compared to Somvarpet (refer to this link for information on the route from Somvarpet). A little before the temple a tar road on your right heads out for Kumar Parvatha. I suggest packing lunch at this stage unless you've asked for lunch to be arrange about mid way at Bhattare Mane (+91-9448647947 / +91-9480230191). After about a km on the tar road you come across the adjoining sign to your left, where the trail starts.

The first part is up to Bhattare Mane which is about 5 kms, 4 of which is through the wooded areas with a reasonable incline. We started at 0700 hrs and a comfortable climb saw us at Bhattare Mane at 1045 hrs. As you are just about to reach Bhattare Mane you will see a blue and green sign saying "Don't tease wild animals" and then this sign which also greets you with a splendid view of the Pushpagiri peak.

The thing to note here is that the peak is actually the one (right most of the three) which appears behind the first two.

Bhattare Mane is a pleasant place and quite the haven surrounded amidst numerous fruit trees. There are cows there so you will find a dung trail to follow.

We left Bhattare Mane at about 1130 hrs for the peak. Nearby is the forest check post, the ranger charges Rs 200 per head for entry and promises a refund if you're coming back the same way. At this time of the year there are barely any water sources so do carry adequate water from here, at least 2-3 litres since the initial 4 kms of the 7 km climb is without tree cover and the sun beats down rather mercilessly. This however is the easier bit, winding pathways over gentle rolling hills, peppered with little benches overlooking the valley at two points.

Beyond this you will see a mantapa, a simple stone structure with 4 pillars, this somewhat marks the mid point of the stretch between Bhattare Mane and the peak. We embarked for the first peak from here and thereby onto the second post which there is a heavenly wooded stretch which ends in a steep rocky climb shortly before the Pushpagiri peak. The valley view is splendid form here.

We left Pushparigi around 1715 hrs, and started our climb back. It was adequate to make to the mantapa by sunset. The climb down was leisurely, we took our time to be in the mist which starts moving in at dusk. The view below is from the second peak.

Thereby most of the 4kms to the forest check post was by the moonlight. The dust trail shining in light of the moon over the dark hill side. Most of the path is strewn with rocks hence making the walk back rather precarious by moonlight. The other options are to camp at the Mantapa or the peak, we choose to spend the night near the forest check post in this wonderful gazebo with the big moon shining down.

The softer things that make a trek memorable
The most important things that make a trek memorable are the people. Vivek pulled this together for all of us. I am sure we all owe him a big one for this :). Anupam was the sprightly guy with energy unbounded who kept all of us going, you definitely want one of him for every trek (not to mention his bird spotting skills). You need Rahul around for perfect comic timing (or to be the object of humour) and Shravan and Tarun (Ra) for being awesome in taking Rahul's case! (or simply being awesome all along the trek when you just want company to trudge along)

Then there is the western ghats, vast and seemingly endless from the perspective of the tiny people atop Pushpagiri. The mist settling in and the full moon peeping from behind the clouds in all its radiant luminescence.

That feeling of the tired bones, when existence is reduced to food and sleep. When we begin to appreciate things like running water and a simple hot meal is most fulfilling (or for that matter benne masala dosa at Kumar Kripa at Kukke). And at the end of the day, when we can still get back to a city, blend in, to have a 'tower' of beer at Froth on Top, Mangalore and indulge in more bird watching at Sizzler Ranch amidst a lavish meal, I yearn for the open spaces and wonder when I can do this all over again.

I emptied my wallet

2011-02-25T00:31:00.002+05:30

I emptied my wallet today
and out came a bit of desire
in a caramel pudding bill
A badge popped out, proclaiming my
presence in another continent with
some currency from lands afar along
with an old railway ticket.
Some wanderlust peeked from behind
in petrol bills, that once bore witness,
to long drives in the rain

Some mundane drudgery emerged
of unpaid laundry bills
a precious mail id imprinted on my mind
of conversations eons ago,
of people and places I’ll never find

Some frailties in the form of a medical note
some indulgences of trinkets I adore
some hope in the cards
that perhaps hold future plans
And life seems strewn, in bits of paper
encompassing me, in their frayed edges

Slipping by...

2011-01-28T22:30:00.002+05:30

He echoed the labyrinth of my mind
with words of his own
and somewhere deep inside
there is reason, yet, to hold on

to those words and thoughts
and fleeting moments long gone
of memories by the river
winding, meandering, moving on
of twilight and of the
transitory dusk, amber at sundown

and all that is dear
slips away,
to come back here and now
again and again...

Sundarbans

2011-01-04T06:59:00.011+05:30

ABOUT SUNDARBANS

So little is said about the Sundarbans that I decided to dedicate a post just to the specifics about the place and logistics about how to get there and what are the options of traveling within the Sundarbans.

Sundarbans is the largest tidal halophytic mangrove forests in the world and has been declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1997. With 64 species of plant life and over 200 species of birds, and last but definitely not the least the Royal Bengal Tiger, this is a veritable treasure for a nature lover. The Sundarbans spanning India and Bangladesh covers over 26,000 sq. kms. of area, of this 9,630 sq. kms. lies in India spanning approx 102 islands. Of these 102 islands 48 are still mangrove forests while the others are inhabited. The forests span 4,264 sq. kms. of which 2,585 sq. kms. has been declared as the Sundarban Tiger Reserve while the other part forms the Divisional Forests as part of 24 Paraganas (1679 sq. kms.)

To start with lets get a better idea about Sundarbans, Google Maps (however I may swear by it usually) is no good for this area, the best I could find was on Trip Advisor, contributed by Bishnupada Ghosh. Here it is reproduced for your convenience.

The area within the dotted line in the adjoining map is that of the Sundarban Tiger Reserve. The area marked in pink is demarcated as the Core Area (1330 sq. kms.) where except for forest officials none are allowed. The most one can get there (with a permit of course) is upto Neti Dhopani on the top left corner of the Core Area. Most of the migratory birds are in this part along with the Olive Ridley Turtles which nest in the beaches on the southern most part of this area.

The area marked in green is the Buffer Zone (892 sq. kms.) and one can go up to the Bangladesh border here to Burir Dabri & Jhinga Khali. The area marked in Yellow is the Saznekhali Wildlife Sanctuary. It is in this area that you will be allowed most access with a permit of course. In subsequent posts I will elaborate a lot more on the landscape, flora and fauna.

[ASIDE: By now its apparent that most place names have the suffix "khali". It comes from the word "khadi" for Canal in Bengali]

GETTING THERE & STAY

There are several options to get to the Sundarbans. The West Bengal Tourism runs several basic initiatives.

Take a 1N/2D or a 2N/3D package on the Launch (large motorboat) services the tourism department has. The Middle Deck is better, avoid the lower deck options. There are A/C options as well. The arrangements are basic and will be in the range of INR 1500 - 2000 per person per day inclusive of everything. This transports you on a Bus to a place called Shonakhali and from there the launch takes you around the various watch towers and canals/rivers.
The second option is to stay in Saznekhali Tourist Lodge (Rs 700 - 1000 approx per day) on the island by the same name. Jayant Basu is the forest ranger and is most helpful with information and making minor adjustments if you request. The lodge can be approached via road upto Shonakhali and thereby you can avail private boats to take you or do what the locals do, island hop with the help of a myriad rickshaws and ferries. This is way more economical and a lot of fun if you are up to it. The closest rail head is Canning, which runs local trains from Kolkata (which is the nearest airport as well). From Canning you can hire boats or island hop. A slew of private boat operators are present and one can hire or share a boat with several people.
The other option to stay, are a number of hotels on the island Pakhiralay (translated in English means home of the birds) right across from Saznekhali island. Its best to remain close to this island since all permits are issued from here.

GETTING ABOUT IN THE SUNDARBANS

The only means of going about in the Sundarbans is by boats, permits are issued at Saznekhali and it costs INR 100 per day per boat. INR 15 is charged per head per day and it is mandatory to take a guide (unless he's not around) for INR 250 per day. Hiring the boats depends on the route and can range anywhere between Rs 1400 - Rs 3500. One can get permits issued for multiple days. My experience with guides here have been amazing.

A special mention needs to be made of Arun Kumar. Arun not only spend the greater part of the day telling me about Sundarbans, but in a great story telling manner digressed between the history of the place and the present issues and local life of people as well as the forests and its various conservation efforts. He is a veritable treasure house of the local flora and fauna and takes great pride and enthusiasm in acquainting you with the area. It was a pleasure interacting with him. He also guided me about the various travel options within the area making it economical as well as a truly amazing and wholesome experience. He can be contacted on +91 9153626612.

The forests are a pleasure to float about in. The serenity is all pervading and the birds, estuarine crocodiles and monitor lizards are quite a sight. I did not see a tiger, I suppose its rare to spot one, but one has to keep hoping :).

THE MUST DO LIST

Float about with not a care in the world and lose yourself in the Sundarbans
Visit the villages nearby and interact with the villagers or visit little market places
Buy/Try the local honey which is the produce of the Sundarbans and is distinctly different.
Take ferries and local transport and hop from one island to another
Try the local cuisine, its a delight especially if you love fish
Try identifying the birds, I saw about 25-30 different species.
Of course look out for the Royal Bengal Tiger, or at least his pug marks

To life!

2010-12-09T02:20:00.001+05:30

The lonely flame flickers,
in the inky darkness;
lighting up ever so softly
the carnations, blushing pink.
A lingering voice sings
a mellow note in strife,
as I take to my wings...
To life!

Tiger's Nest - Bhutan Diaries (Part 4 of 4)

2010-11-30T21:44:00.006+05:30

Any narrative on Bhutan is incomplete without a reference to the Taktsang Monastery or Tiger's Nest. As I sit here writing the concluding words on my few days in Bhutan, its perhaps with Taktsang that i'd like to associate the spirituality of the land.

While serenity pervades Bhutan in the most mundane of places, Taktsang was indeed a revelation in the quiet. But first a bit of its history. Legend has it that Taktsang or literally "Tiger's Lair" is the location where Padmasambhava (also known as Guru Rinpoche) flew on the back of a tigress to subdue a demon. He later meditated at the caves where in 1692 Tenzing Rabgye built the monastery. The monastery hangs on a precipitous cliff at an altitude of 10,240 ft (3120 m) and can be approached through a 2 hour (approx) hike through the blue pine forests dotted with a few lakhangs (temples).

Taktsang seems perched on a near vertical rock face and the first glimpses of it are awe inspiring. It almost seems like it has grown out of the rock surface. In 1998 a fire broke out and destroyed the main building of the monastery complex which was restored at a cost of Nu 135 Million. It makes one wonder at the methodologies employed to have this constructed 4 centuries back.

The trek is pleasant and the views its offers are every photographer's dream. It is cool at that altitude and I bask in the sun taking in the stark beauty of the place. The blue pines, the dirt track, the waterfall near the monastery, the cave like sanctums and the room filled with a sea of butter-lamps, all aglow giving the monk who's lighting them a very ethereal presence. Its a place where the quiet pervades your soul and forces every thought to stop rushing about.

I pause and cease to think and for a while let myself be...

Eat, Pray, Love & Drink some - Bhutan Diaries - (part 3 of 4)

2010-11-23T11:14:00.011+05:30

Bhutan really is a place to fall in love with, complete with the Eating, Praying and of course Drinking bit too! (with due apologies to Elizabeth Gilbert for the title of this post)

The Eating

The national dish of Bhutan is Ema Datshi (Ema: Chilli; Datshi: Cheese). And that is exactly what it is a plate full of chillies in a cheese sauce. For the faint hearted like me a couple of tries was quite enough, but it is delicious nonetheless.
A particular delight was the 'totshe' (rice and beef) at the Art Cafe (Thimpu), along with their huge mugs of coffee, tea and a honey and lime concoction
The Ambient cafe is worth a visit for its pastries and the Sonam Trophel, Paro dished up brilliant 'pakoras' and the best 'masala chai' in the land of Suja (salty butter tea).
Lastly The Village Restaurant in the outskirts of Punakha offers a brilliant view with some choice Bhutanese delicacies.

The Praying

Official Name: Kingdom of Bhutan | Language: Dzonkha | Currency: Ngultrum
Over 60% of Bhutan is forests - ranging from tropical hardwoods to predominantly oak and pine forests. There are numerous trekking trails including the famous Snowman and Jumolhari treks. We did the checklist Taktsang trek near Paro and took the not-so-beaten track of Phajoding on one day and the Goempa's Tango and Cherie on another.
Most Temples (Lakhangs & Goempas) are located away from civilization, far away infact. Each of these are at least over an hour of hiking in the forests.
The Dzongs are the seat of religious and administrative power and each province has one. They are usually ornate house some of the most exquisite 'tankha' paintings (Intricate Buddhist paintings depicting folk lore, life and myth surrounding the religion)
The penis is the symbol of fertility in Bhutan and paintings of it adorn the walls and line the souvenir shops.
The general populace sports the 'gho' (traditional outfit of men) and the 'kira' (traditional outfit of women) as day wear and also parties in style come evening.

The Loving

With its focus on Gross National Happiness, the sense of peace in Bhutan is almost tangible.
A word has to be said about it people, both the Bhutanese as well as the Nepalese settled in Bhutan. Kind and trustworthy, they are a pleasant lot to interact with.
The llamas are a particularly a generous lot, who offered us guidance through the forests while trekking and even coffee in their best china :) at Chokortshe Goempa and other places at large.
Bhutan gets its name "Land of the Thunder Dragons" from the frequent violent storms. We were lucky with Blue Skies for more part.
Love happens in a place like Bhutan. The eastern Himalayas, the pine forests, the gushing sparkling rivers and waterfalls all transpire and reaffirm your faith in yourself and love of life in its entirety.

The Drinking

Archery is the national sport of Bhutan and restricted to men, who indulge in this sport in a drunken stupor aiming at a 30 inch target from over 100 meters away. You will be amazed at the precision.
Alcoholic Beverages form one of the main industries of Bhutan and they brew two delightful beers Druk 11000 and the more popular Red Panda. The K5 whisky also accompanied us on most nights. The price of a beer being INR 40 and 60ml of K5 anywhere between INR 80-160.
A specifically delightful experience was sourcing 'arra' (the local brew) from the Llamas at a local temple.

Faces & Places - Bhutan Diaries - (part 2 of 4)

2010-11-10T23:42:00.008+05:30

The Phajoding Goemba Trek

The Phajoding Goemba (11,942ft) is a 5 km walk uphill from the outskirts of Thimpu. This was founded in the 13th century by Togden Pajo, and built around 1748. That morning as we started our ascent, the mist lay heavy on Thimpu. The Wang Chhu river in Thimpu, meandered lazily below.

We passed Wangditse Goemba and after a good 2 hr climb came upon Chhokhortse Goempa. It was here that we sat in the sun and interacted with the monks who very kindly got us piping hot milky coffee and crackers. We met Ishi llama here, one look at us and out came his doubts about how Phajoding was way too difficult for us especially given the time we'd taken to get there. There after he accompanied us for a short distance, went about giving us detailed instructions on how to get to Phajoding and continued to check on us from time to time as we progressed on our own.

It took us about 6hours to get to Phajoding Goempa, trudging along little by little. What was amazing is the flora and fauna, the vast expanse of the forests, the wild flowers, the numerous butterflies, the yaks and lovely birds along the route.

However, the most rewarding part of the trek was the sight at the Goempa, a courtyard full of young novice monks, sitting in the sun and studying history. Among them four little pups are playing about, the little monks are clearly distracted and follow every move of the pups and then with an exaggerated effort try and get back to their books only to break into fits of subdued giggles at the sight of the pups. Its beautiful to see these boys in their robes; embarking on a life of simple purity and the joy in their young faces.

Faces & Places - Bhutan Diaries - (part 1 of 4)

2010-11-10T00:14:00.006+05:30

Memories of having spent ten days in Bhutan comes back as random instances of faces and places, interleaved and mingling as if the divide created between man and nature did not hold true in this land. Calm and serene Bhutan has a way of encompassing you in its gentle folds. Bhutan breathes of serenity and has a way of making your heart ache with a longing for it long after you've left its soil.

As I look around, resplendent shades of green meet the eye, green turning gradually to ochre, yellow and even red in anticipation of the oncoming winter. Rivers that run right by the town, rippling clean and in shades of brilliant blue. But most of all, its the people and the places which all seem part of a harmonious natural existence; nothing out of place; all merging into a mystical charming world, famed as "The Last Shangri-La".

The first of the faces are those of Manisha and Suvarna, my companions for the trip. Manisha has a way with people, she is quick to endear herself to locals and tourists alike and is credibly good with logistics. While Suvarna has a calm maturity about herself, she is persevering and tremendously patient. Its been a pleasure exploring the land of the thunder dragon with two motivated ladies.

I'll float in the morrow

2010-10-28T22:37:00.002+05:30

The windshield fogs up,
with tiny droplets of rain.
while a distant radio plays,
a soulful note fraught with pain.

And in their midst he smiles,
on a gloomy wintry night.
mooring my soul to his,
if only till the morning light.

of many such moments...

2010-10-06T17:14:00.004+05:30

...and the wind whistles past my face
in myriad tunes,
you smile, capturing in that moment
a glimmer of the past
of people and places far away
of distances held close...

...and there I stand receding
in your rear view mirror

..just..

2010-09-07T17:24:00.004+05:30

And the ashes of last night's fire,
lays bare in its amber glow;
there's warmth in that smoky rubble...
a warmth I'll never know.

Midnight musings

2010-07-21T11:34:00.005+05:30

far away in the distance,
somewhere your mind will wander too.
building castles in the air,
just for an instant
or perhaps in answer to my prayer.

And perhaps it may be yours as well,
a moment of pure joy.
In my individual world
Wrought with singularity
A possibility may unfurl.

...it rained

2010-07-10T16:04:00.002+05:30

a wayside cafè, with a broken sign,
with its potted plants and a lonely vine.
An old man hands me a bit of longing,
alongside my coffee.
As distant thoughts fill the morning.

A loud drumming beckons,
on the tin roof to mark the rain.
Its getting colder,
And just like that i let the cold in.

...a moment in time

2010-05-19T19:03:00.005+05:30

A tryst with vast spaces
sprawling greens greet the eye,
with a mountain song rustling
in tall trees that heave a sigh;

long conversations over longer evenings
mellow moments with people unknown
the white beauty of the moon seeps in,
and flows by, like the river below.

and years later i reckon a mellow mood
and sift through time of eons ago,
numerous stories all fleeting by
yet not one to hold close.

And yet the road beckons once more
into spaces far and wide,
to craft an instant of hope
that lingers on beyond the night.

Chilka

2010-05-11T18:18:00.005+05:30

Chilka Lake is perhaps Orissa's best kept secret. Every year Bengali's flock to this place by the hundreds as do the migratory birds, but apart from these two species, most of India is barely familiar with this place. Orissa as a state has done little in terms of tourism promotion,
and perhaps its best left that way

On a journey across Orissa, when i stopped one morning at the edge of the Chilka Lake at Rambha, it did feel like the meeting place of the earth and the skies, not far in the horizon, but around me enveloping in one glorious sunrise. The early rays of the sun gently played on the fishing boats that were moored and large nets in the water, stirring in its stillness. An odd boatman framed against the rising sun, with his long bamboo pole, used as an oar.

Birds flew overhead, gulls, cormorants, kites, kingfishers, and a host of others, slowly dwindling in number as the pollution levels of the Chilka lake increases owing to the use of motor boats.
Rambha, thankfully has mostly row boats and we set sail with Babu and his twin brother Susil. [If you're around there call them @+91-9937226378/9777124603] They accompanied us for over three hours, pointing out birds, interacting with the local fishermen, identifying various kinds of fishes that were the catch of the day. And most importantly letting me be, to hear the bird calls and the sound of the water lapping by the boat as the bamboo cut through it.

There are moments when i experience a sense of oneness with the universe, to lose my identity and merge with the surroundings, its easily done in Chilka.

Hampi Hues: Orange

2010-02-25T20:28:00.013+05:30

A large part of travel, is really, the people you meet and the impressions they leave behind. Hampi, has a surprisingly high number of foreign travelers as compared to Indian ones, hence the opportunity to meet people from all over the world. A few people flood the annals of my mind when i think back to the time spent there. The color orange attributed here is simply for the vibrant mood it set.

The icing of the Hampi trip was meeting Shilpa. She's spirited and just about discovering the pleasures of traveling and meeting random people herself. She's vivacious and will keep the conversation going...and ofcourse she has one of the most disarming smiles you'll see around here.

There was the usual spattering of people you meet briefly and have conversations with over extended meal times. There was Alexandr (below right) from Ukraine and little Laila's (left) family from Italy.

One of the most interesting meetings was with John McCormack and his friends. John is a dashing man from England who is an Architectural Historian. At the time of our meeting, John along with his friends, were trying to piece out the construction of the bridge built during the Vijayanagar era across the Tungabhadra River and its possible reasons of collapse. John very patiently explained the same to me as well and it was fascinating to say the least. Incidentally they told me they are friends of John M Fritz and George Michell, who wrote a book on Hampi which I read during my travel and will highly recommend.

Apart from that, we met a huge number of people from the Ratlam area of Madhya Pradesh, India, who had come to assist in the preparations for the Hampi festival held in commemoration of 500years since the reign of King Krishnadevaraya. In a place like Hampi, among the ruins, the stages and the wiring seemed rather anachronistic. Its almost as if time stops here. The audio systems and the twinkling lights seem amiss.

The people are colorful and always willing to have their pictures taken. I met them mostly around the time when they came by the river for their daily bath. Post that, they would hold their wet clothes out to dry. It was a wonderful experience, to see a multitude of brightly colored sarees flapping around in the wind.

The last piece is about the local people, a lot of them come from the eastern part of India, all mostly engaged in the hotel/restaurant business. There are children galore on field trips from schools. I met Swamy, while he had brought around his cattle to graze, full of energy Swamy ran up to show me the Octagonal baths and kept running around it in circles!

However, what made my trip to Hampi was the kindness shown by the couple below, who are coconut sellers on the North bank of the Tungabhadra river. They shared their simple lunch of rice and cabbage with me when I was quite famished. Its moments like these that take your breath away. The idea of sharing what little you have, in one sweeping gesture of immense generosity left me quite overwhelmed and in that they remain nameless and yet very dear.

Hampi Hues: Blue

2010-02-23T21:25:00.005+05:30

Hampi, in my memory today comes back vividly as a medley of colors, the skies were clear and a deep blue. I went about on my little pink cycle, paused by random roads alongside many a spattering of temples, and looked upon this huge expanse of a rocky land against the blue. I remember feeling as much and marveling at how much needed to be fixed, nagging issues dripping and draining me like a leaky faucet. And with a sweeping philosophical bent i was keen to declare that the answer lay within, but i can't deny that the actions lay out there, to be committed to one painful step at a time.

That in itself is a continuous process. When I reflect upon myself, there is much hypocrisy to deal with, a lot of vileness to come to terms with, but mostly it is in random places like these that I can sense the beauty, the serenity and the little piece that I am in the context of my world. And i sit down to think, wonder what to write. My thoughts wander from the places I visited, to the people I met or the food I ate, but mostly it comes around and settles on the silence. The vast moments of 'silence' that can be felt in a very tangible sort of way.

And then again the silence is broken, by the laughter of a hundred children, milling about excitedly in a temple while the accompanying teacher tries in vain to impart some of the history of the place. It's broken when interesting conversation happens with fellow travellers. And once in a while it's broken by a random traveller sitting there strumming on his guitar and singing a song, as if paradoxically, 'The sounds of silence'.

I'd like to believe that every once in a while I travel alone to get some fresh perspective on life and re-haul things from their beaten track. But the truth is that I just travel...everything else happens alongside.

Notes on a Valentines day

2010-02-16T21:34:00.004+05:30

A grain of sand misplaced,
on the page, as I scrawl; looking across the expanse of the beach,
the waves gently lapping.
My gaze meets the eyes of a man walking up,
he sits in a quite corner of the otherwise sonorous cafe;
a lean body with spots all over, intriguing eyes with a longing gaze;
he lets them wander around the room,
to settle on a couple deep in embrace, they look up
just as his gaze shifts to the man on the hammock,
reading 'a fine balance', across a lady immersed in her own.

Its a full day at the cafe, with couples tucked away
and some groups of motley people with a longing
that i can't place.

And i continue to ponder, as he moves across the room,
Our eyes meet briefly and then he walks past,
still lonesome in his gaze.

Coastal Karnataka

2010-02-15T20:09:00.015+05:30

Traveling has largely been a learning process for me, some bit of that mixed with discovering cultures and people. Add a dash of fun and adventure and voila! its a pretty heady mix.

However, traveling with Amrita, proposed new levels of hilarity which i had not discovered yet. We covered the Mangalore to Gokarna trail, stopping by as they proverbially say to smell the flowers and experience the road along the way.

View M'lore-Udupi-Gokarna in a larger map

We spent a few hours in Mangalore, enough to take a leisurely tour of the St. Aloysius Chapel, renowned for its paintings done during 1899-1900 by Br. Antonio Moscheni s.j. (1854-1905). Breakfast happened at Woodlands, lovely idli-wada's combined with steaming coffee.

Malpe was calling, as we headed out towards Udupi and to Malpe thereafter to get to St. Mary's Island. It is famous for its rocks, which have crystallized into columns and split into hexagonal mosaic. A motley lot gathered at the boat, the young, the old and ofcourse at "young-at-heart". Men well past their youth

making feeble attempts at reclaiming it with fancy dark glasses, tight tees, colored straw hats combined with raucous singing and dancing. All cacophony aside, its a lovely little island, quaint, with coconut trees and sprinkled with couples taking a break over the weekend.

From Malpe we headed out to Udupi, visited the Krishna Temple, and the much famed Diana. But what made the day was Crab Masala and Prawn Puli Munchi combined with Neer Dosa from a tiny place called Sagar Fast Foods.

We took an ad hoc stop at Marwanthe, just to experience a bit of the boat ride on the Souparnika River, which had a very backwater feel, this combined with having the beach all to ourselves was quite a treat.

Gokarna was the last place, lively with a host of tourists, a star studded night and a brilliant sunset and sunrise over the Arabian Sea. There is something about the sunrises and sunsets, they make you stop short, drop anything you're doing and captivates.

Shravanabelagola - Mulekote - Kambadahalli

2010-02-08T15:41:00.016+05:30

First post of the year and as always the resolution to be more regular and prompt at updating this space looks squarely at me. The task although daunting, tirelessly demands a piece of me that I am more than willing to engage.

So here's the route i took to spend a starry night by an unknown lake. My knowledge of Jainism as a religion is quite limited in the sense that it is drawn purely from history books read long ago with much indifference. The last weekend was dedicated to places of interest from a Jain perspective of Shravanabelagola - Melukote - Kambadahalli.

Shravanabelagola
Shravanabelagola houses the 58 foot monolithic statue of the Gomateshwara, a beautiful monolithic piece built by Chavundaraya, a general in the Western Ganga Dynasty. This is located on the Vindhyagiri Hill. Facing the Vindhyagiri is the Chandragiri hill (locally referred to as Chikkabetta) atop which sits a host of Jain basadis (Jain temple/Shrine) the most prominent of which was the one built in memory of the erstwhile king Chandragupta Maurya. Most of the structures around here date back to the 10th century. The town has a few eateries of which I will recommend Hotel Raghu and clean place with mouthwatering food. The thali is a definite choice, which the snack items of Idlis, Khara bath (Upma), Wada's & Dosa's are worth a mention as well.

Melukote
Melukote boasts of the Cheluvanarayanswamy Temple and the Yoga-Narasimhaswamy Temple among a host of other Basadi's. The Cheluvanarayan swamy temple boasts of intricately carved stone pillars each of which are distinct and astoundingly beautiful. The town also boasts of small eateries with delicious Puliogare (tamarind Rice) and Idli's/Dosai's among the few I visited are SampathKumar's and Ganesh Tiffin. About two kilometers outside the town is a fairly large lake, where I camped. A starry night spent with nothing else to think of except the gorgeous lake fading away in the dusk is a feeling to cherish, and possibly hold close for a long time.

The Yoga-Narasimha temple perched on the top of the hill sparkled overlooking the lake. Its a starkly peaceful feeling to wake up to a myriad of calls of the peacock, pied kingfishers, egrets, sparrows, swallows and a host of other birds and to watch the sun light up the sky gradually.

Kambadahalli, about 18kms Nagamangala was the surprise package with the Panchkuta basadi. The drive around these roads are beautiful with little slices of rural life and culture to soak in. There is interesting conversation all along peppered with snacks of Bananas, Jackfruit and Neera (freshly tapped Palm nectar)

He danced like no one was watching...

2009-09-10T14:56:00.006+05:30

...and he got up and started to dance, his body swaying to the rhythm and i can't recall now what music was playing in that sultry June evening. But he danced, like no one was watching, in a restuarant with a soulful live band belting out music, he danced alone, moving to the music, with eyes closed and a faint smile playing on the corners of his lips. It was beautiful, not becase he danced well, but because he danced alone, in a place where no one else cared to.

And I sit here today, thinking of that moment of years ago, and of the look that Prateek gave me long back, urging me to go ahead and cast my inhibitions. I mulled over my dilemma to join him and break his moment of beauty or to have become one with the moment.

I longed to join him, and did not muster the courage to, I am wont to belive that its better this way, the memory still comes back to me now and then, to remind me of an evening full of music and longing. But the truth is that i'll never know what an impulsive moment of breaking into a dance might have felt like.

Heightened Tastes!

2009-08-24T22:19:00.009+05:30

A wonderful part of travel is the various kinds of cuisine one is exposed to. The local as well the the local versions of other globally accepted fares. The journey through a place can be traced by its food. One such book by Sephi Bergerson titled 'Street food of India' made me reminisce about the places in Himachal which made the trip rather lip-smackin'!

Tibetian Phuntsok, Road to Rohtang/Vashisth, Manali

An unassuming little place which is almost not visible from the road, a faded sign is all there is which leads into a tiny garden in the backyard of the house with a few tables placed overlooking the valley and the mountains in the distance with the Beas rumbling below. Its like a haven with overgrown shrubs around which makes its secluded. It claims homemade food and thus has brightly colored posters requesting you to be 'patient'. The veg/chicken momos and thupka there was to die for.

Chamba Dhaba, Marhi

We reached Marhi [enroute to Rohtang from Manali] one rainy evening, riding back from Rohtang. We stopped there for shelter at this Dhaba, rather a makeshift structure with wooden beams and tin sheets for a roof. We sat there hearing the deafening roar of the rain hitting upon the dhaba, a place suddenly warm and smelling deliciously of food! Tea, rather 'Chai' in such weather is almost like tasking heavenespecially when combined with the ubiquitous Maggi!

Johnson's Cafe, Manali

We landed here, strictly adhering to Lonely Planet's advice and well was quite bowled over. Perfect for a chilly Manali morning, the place sported a Colonial stucture with a touch of the local architecture characterized by the interspersing of stone and wood in the construction of the walls, as the backdrop. Seated on quaint wooden benches at the edge of a garden with trees laden with apples, old lamp posts and the wispy freshness of the morning dew on the colorful burst of flower. Breakfast consisted of baked egg and spinach, ginger lemon honey, pancakes – with honey, butter and lemon. We also returned for a shimmering yellow evening with translucent lamps above, the beads clinking away gently as the wind sweeps across the apple trees. The speciality here is the trout, we tried the smoked one and the world's most succulent lamb in thyme and wine sauce.

Chandra Dhaba, Batal, Edge of Lahaul Valley

In the vast desolate stretches of wilderness that Spiti Valley offers, this place is like a tiny little oasis in the desert with its warm makeshift shelter. A corner of the dhaba was lit with the natural light streaming in from a sort of skylight in the roof making it the sunniest part of an otherwise dark room. Supplies were stacked along the walls and there were stone platforms with mattresses strewn about. In the middle of a famished bus ride from Manali a kindly lady dished out ladles of steamed sticky rice, potato curry, a mix of pulses all at 13120 ft...divine.

Ylomo Restaurant, Kaza, Spiti Valley

A dark cozy room with little plastic chairs, and beautiful panorama's of Nepal and Tibet on the walls (with one of Kajol and Kareena Kapoor thrown in as well). Buzzing with activity, of little school children in the morning and a pretty little girl of the owner who flitted about serving us now and then. Breakfast consisted of heavily stuffed aaloo paranthas with sour and salty tibetian tea. Omelette and ginger honey lemon to add to the same.We tried the momos here as well along with the thukpa which are recommended.

Riding the mist

2009-07-26T10:08:00.006+05:30

I find myself in Manali, Himachal Pradesh shortly after an impulse break-away from Bangalore. A bustling hill station of the north, defined thus by the bejeweled honeymooners and large families all congregating to beat the heat of the North Indian plains. There is an over-riding sense of well being and casual prosperity in stark contrast to the complying hospitality of the genteel natives of Manali, a significant portion of which are people from Nepal and Tibet.

While Himanshu, tries to negotiate a sweet deal on a '93 RE Machismo, I gaze upon the tibetian settlement across the street. There are a multitude of people, tourists of all colors, bikers, and even the few natives, old, crinkled and sitting in groups with their prayer wheels. Old women, with beautifully lined faces, making me want to reach out and touch them, as if that single act can convey the stories behind each line.

With the noble steed right in place, we set off for Rohtang Pass (3978m), a ride through kilometre long traffic jams owing to the double laning of the road to the pass, at times a feet of mud to bike through but mostly gorgeous views of the valley spreading below lined with tall deodars and pines. At the fringes of the Lahaul Valley, Rohtang is still largely covered in glaciers here and there and hordes of tourists trying to ski. We set off a little beyond the pass and stop by in the freezing wind, to just lie on the grass and take in the panorama that the places springs up.

What was most stunning about Rohtang that day, was the mist that envelopes the place shortly after we start hiking around the pass. Visibility is well impaired, and at intervals, ghostly figures of tourists on horses emerge from the mist to cross me and gradually dissapear into the mist again. Now and then the mist separates just a wee bit, to give a peek at the valley below. Its breathtaking!

Sojourn into Himachal and within

2009-07-19T16:53:00.008+05:30

An impulse decision to travel to the Himalayas happened a while back and armed with confidence, return tickets, maps and a tiny bit of apprehension, Himanshu and I set forth for the Valleys of Eastern Himachal Pradesh following the route attached. The places largely covered were:

Kullu Valley - Manali, Vashisht, Naggar via Jagatsukhi, Mirhi
Lahaul Valley - Rohtang La (3978m), Chandratal, Kunzum La (4551m), Losar, Battal
Spiti Valley - Kaza, Ki Monastery, Kibber, Tabo,
Road from Kaza to Rekong Peo via Hurling, Nako
Kinnaur Valley - Kalpa, Rekong Peo
Sangla Valley - Sangla
Road from Sangla to Shimla via Wangtu, Narkanda & Fagu

A few pictures are uploaded here and while i sit down and combine various little pieces of paper, scribbled upon and put together a coherent story of my experiences, the thought of having been there still is enchanting and magical. To say that it was an experience of a lifetime, would be quite an understatement.

It simply blew me away.

All the little things...

2009-05-07T23:53:00.005+05:30

So here's the deal, I seldom recall or miss the big things about my folks, like you know the education, the values and all the grand stuff. What I often miss are the little things, the nice ones, often even the annoying ones.

1. like Ma/Baba lying down next to me when waking me up on lazy mornings
2. Ma always saving the big pieces of mango (or any favorite food for that matter)
3. Baba teaching me to ride his Bajaj scooter one fine morning
4. Baba's cold cold cheek on mine, right after returning from work, to check the temperature when i fell ill.
5. Ma laboring over "pithe" or other delicacy just for a change
6. Baba narrating us his childhood memories of Jamshedpur, everytime we passed by a certain street or house
7. Baba waking me up for morning walks when i least wanted to go
8. Baba, calling out for Ma and without fail inquiring when i was as soon as he got back from work
9. Ma singing "O tota pakhi re" or "Se aamar chotto pakhi Chondona" to put me to sleep
10. For always putting more vegetables in the Maggi, than the noodles themselves.

and perhaps most of all for forgiving, everything small and large.

Rebooting

2009-05-04T12:11:00.006+05:30

Kalyan Varma & Mukta Darera from iReboot opened up a whole new world of wildlife photography over the last three days at Banerghatta National Park, Karnataka, India. For those, considering this and who didn't quite make it, I must encourage you to join them in their future endeavors.

While, i don't want to sound like a forthright adversitement for either Kalyan or iReboot, they make it compelling enough. Kalyan's style of approaching the subject is commendable both in detail as well as his approach in passionately communicating wildlife photography as a subject very well. The workshop personally helped me clean up a lot of my technicalities as well as increasing the breath of my eye for photography.

The arrangements were well managed and I am grateful to iReboot for beinging this together. While both these people take most of the credit, it wouldn't have been quite so much fun without all the other participants as well. So here's my hearty thanks going out to Abhishikta, Badri, Kinjal, Milind, Selva, Subin & Shubhra.

Coastal Cruise

2009-04-15T10:09:00.001+05:30

I have learned...

2009-02-21T08:35:00.001+05:30

I have learned that no matter how much you brace yourself, death always takes you by surprise

Chinese Fishing Nets at Fort Kochi, Kerala

2009-01-04T15:41:00.007+05:30

Backpacking in Kerala over the last ten days was a curious mix of learning and change of perspective in multiple ways.

One early morning at Fort Kochi I met James at the Chinese Fishing Nets. These cantilevered Chinese fishing nets were introduced to Kerala between 1350-1450 by Chinese spice traders. James is the only one of his crew that speaks in broken English and is the designated one to speak to tourists. James proudly invites me over to climb the platform of the net and explore the net set up at the confluence of the Arabian Sea (Salt water) and the Vembanad Lake (Sweet water, i am told).

He informs me that it takes about INR 3-4 Lakhs to install one of these nets which are largely made of teak. The net spanning up to 20m needs to be replaced every 6 months or so. I am introduced around to people on the crew and just as they begin their morning prayers before the first haul i notice that there is quite a representation of a bunch of different religions. The net is submerged for about 2-3 mins and then pulled up using counter weights. This is repeated about 200-250 times a day, yielding about 20-30 kilos of fish. The fish is usually sold to tourists in the nearby market, 30% of the proceeds going to the owner leaving 70% to be split between the 5-6 net operators.

Over time the fishing has dwindled and people like James are reduced to make polite conversation with tourists like me, offering me information and taking my picture at the nets in exchange for money to supplement their income.

On the road again...

2008-12-24T12:35:00.002+05:30

Its been a while and just when it seemed like the blog would die a slow death, here i am anticipating exciting times ahead. Am off on the road again and the route followed is Bangalore - Cochin - Alleppy - Trivandrum - Poovar - Kanyakumari - Cochin - Bangalore. Needless to say Google maps has been very helpful, but Map my India has been amazing as well, especially in terms of calculating distances and routes. Here's the route am taking and hopefully be back in 10 days time with plenty of posts on the trip. Till then wishing you, season's greetings and lots of fun.

Games people play...

2008-10-06T21:53:00.004+05:30

I realize today that i do not have a picture of my grand mother, Didun as i called her. Just fleeting memories of how she would struggle to teach me the bengali dialect and silently sit in her wheel chair day after day instructing people in her quiet manner, running the household single-handedly.

Holidays as a kid always meant a visit to my grandparents, the fields, the pond, the huge huge house all seemed to wait in bated breath for our arrival and suddenly as i ran in, Didun would call for Lime water. There would be plenty to share with her, and even as i watched her over the year shriveling away under the pangs of arthritis, she would always make me feel special. She passed away when i was 11, but left me with very vivid memories. I asked Dadu what i'd never asked her, of how they met, got married and proverbially "fell in love".

However, Dadu had quite another tale to narrate. The time he was asked to go forth and meet his potential in-laws, Dadu was a fine looking young boy of 23, just out of the pangs of scarcity and doing reasonably well for himself. However his in-laws were in a league of their own, with massive amounts of land in assets, they were zamindars (landlord) with little association with the working class. Dadu's natural suspicion at the class disparity (we are talking about the 1940's here) got the better of him and he grew suspicious as to why a rich zamindar would marry his daughter to a working class guy, with no family backing.

Albeit, he sets forth to meet the family with his friend and employee (driver) Ashu Dawa in tow. They reach the village in Orissa after a long journey and meet a very eager and welcoming family. Both friends are well taken care of, given a tour of the property and generally made comfortable. Ashu being the worse off, especially enjoyed the attention and more importantly the food. Upon his insistence, Dadu and Ashu stay on for a couple of days enjoying the attention lavished upon them, however Dadu grows increasingly uncomfortable with all the suspicion brewing in his mind and to top it, the girl in question (Didun) being not the looker he expected with a dark complexion (now you know why Fair n Lovely sells).

At the end of their stay, Dadu makes up his mind to refuse the match. Ashu butts in at this juncture and says that such a judgment passed right then would be inappropriate, especially after all the good food washed down over the past few days. Dadu though in agreement is caught between the horns of dilemma and as a desperate move agrees for the match, hoping that he can deny by mail once he's back home.

Upon returning, he confesses to his uncle, his unwillingness to marry as well as the fact that he said yes in an earlier instance, just to avoid confrontation. He hoped, that his uncle would deny on his behalf . However here is what his uncle told him, "A man is worth only as much as his words, if you cannot honor them, then you'd rather not speak". And the rest as they say is history, he did get married to Didun and bore nine children.

P.S. His suspicions were put to rest when told that the match was highly recommended by the priest after matching both their "janampatri's". While matching the patri's the priest supposedly claimed that the boy had a brilliant future.

Life and Times of Dadu

2008-09-09T21:43:00.006+05:30

I just realised that i have written three successive posts on Dadu and have not introduced him to you. Meet Dadu who is otherwise known as Khagendranath Maity (yet again proving that Bengalis have a penchant for tongue twisters!). As a child i recall visiting Dadu at Belda, and don't recall ever having to tell the local rickshaw fellow the address of the house; just his name was enough.

Taking off from the cyclone of 1942 post, it was around this time at the age of nineteen, Dadu decided that it was about time he built a concrete house. By this time he'd been driving a bus for about two years and been an owner of two for another three. There was a tidy little sum of Rupees 25,000 tucked away in the bank to realise the home. It was around this time that two people from the nearby town of Dalbhumgarg proposed the sale of two trucks to Dadu.

I sat there and listened as Dadu continued his tale of youthful antics and desires, mesmerized that this man who has seldom spoken to his own children, unfolds his heart to me. He went to Dalbhumgarh, with the intent of evaluating the trucks and got drawn into a gambling board game. On this, he lost not only all of the 25,000 of his savings, but an additional 12,000 as well. One folly belies another, soon Dadu was gambling at the race course in Calcutta to raise this money. The money came and went and yet the gambling stayed on.

He lost some and won some, and for over two years gambled at the race course with his evenings spent drinking in the company of random dancers at the "Park Hotel" and once in a while at some brothel. Dadu continues without blinking, unconcerned if i may hold him up to all the moral judgement i am ridden with. Unconcerned that in most circles he is held in very high regard mostly as a principled man, conservative in most aspects. Do we truly learn to let go when we know we have nothing at all to lose? Or does the knowledge of the end does that?

...How i wonder what you are...

2008-09-08T21:38:00.005+05:30

I wonder, when was the last time i sat and wondered about a chance discovery and was thrilled by it. Meeting Dadu, bestowed upon me just such a thought as to why and when i stopped wondering.

As children, we continue to discover things around us. As adults, we tend to hide away that wonder, fearing just someone to come by and ridicule our lack of that specific knowledge (in all honestly i have found myself doing that more often than not). Growing up in the years where self image reigned supreme i remember Asha Aunty instilling these basic feelings. She once wrote to me, while i was in college, mentioning the chance discovery of a pigeon feather and the colors it contained. Subsequently, the wonderment has waned if not died completely.

Of late, Dadu, discovered the Television remote control. How thrilled he was at the discovery. Now before you assume, let me clarify that he's had a TV with a remote as long as i can remember (or atleast for a decade). Its just that he's never ventured to that part of the house. That day he discovered the remote and he also discovered "Kulfi". It was a pleasure to see him marvel at the lingering tase of sweetness and what i've known as mundane and somewhere i thought to myself if i still had the potential to let go and simply wonder.

Little scraps...

2008-09-07T00:06:00.003+05:30

The Midnapore cyclone of 1942 coincided with the World War II. The bleak memories Dadu has of that time was his two buses were taken in by the state government. These were ofcourse better days, there was not only a steady state of income but even enough in the bank.

How ever the area prone to cyclones has shaped a lot of Dadu's capabilities of survival. Nineteen years back (in 1923) he was born to a family which could barely provide for its four children. At a point where there was no money to even buy food, Dadu was sent to Belda to study and be in the care of his Uncle. At the age of fourteen Dadu witnessed his first cyclone, which razed to ground the only school in the town and with nothing better to do, Dadu started to drive the only bus his Uncle had. In a few years he saved enough to hire a driver and buy another bus. It was then that the war started and days of economic strain resumed.

Somehow as i sit with Dadu as he reminisces of the times when survival required thought, cyclones, hurricanes and wars seem not only far removed and remote but also something that barely has a possibility of touching my life. It forces me to think of all the things i take for granted...

Echoes

2008-09-05T23:19:00.017+05:30

The Midnapore cyclone of October 1942 was accompanied by gale wind speeds of 225kmph. The entire area with its scant infrastructure was well nigh razed to the ground. Further south of Midnapore (or Medinipur as the local largely bengali speaking population refers to it) is the little town of Belda, somwhere between Medinipur and the Bay of Bengal.

When the cyclone hit Belda, with what seemed like a vengeance, there was little up for defense. The entire place had only one concrete building to offer which was the rice mill. This is where everyone headed when the gale winds howled in. Somewhere in the scrambling a nineteen year old boy was detracted from the course of the rice mill and got carried by the wind to the farmlands afar. A day later, when he stirs back into consciousness, there is nothing around to sustain himself on. It was then, that he decided that he needs to build a house and a concrete one at that.

Reminiscing about the time long past he sits today at the threshold of turning eighty-six and looks back upon the echoes of his mind. Peeks into the annals of his mind and stops by to pick little scraps for me to pass on the story of a man who did small things with great care.

Along the road, one morning

2008-05-25T21:56:00.004+05:30

Along the road one morning to Manchinabele Dam, i met some lovely people...steaming idlis, lounging or just being coy

The Road to Hampi

2008-03-25T19:52:00.013+05:30

The hills greet you from afar; a looming mass of blue-green on the horizon. As you reach closer to Hospet (a 338km from Bangalore, India via Chitradurga & Kudligi) the hills contrast vastly with the reddish soil resulting from the region (Bellary-Hospet) being a iron-ore mining belt.

But first one step back, the journey to Hampi (12kms from Hospet) although premeditated got truncated by a day leaving us two days. One day each to enjoy the drive by the lush Karnataka country side; greener due to a sudden spell of rain last weekend.

Tired, was how i started out, sleeping quite a bit of the onward journey to Hospet almost wondering if a washed out weekend would do justice to the trip. A common fallacy of worrying more about the destination than the journey itself. We took frequent breaks, small time eateries, tea breaks, the Reliance A1 plaza near Chitradurga made it all pleasant.

As you approach Chitradurga, the hills on the horizon is dotted by windmills, first a few can be spotted which soon turns up in huge numbers rotating in its own pace. We even thought of not going any further and camping right there, but the gray clouds seemed menacing and we drove on.

We reached Hampi, went around the market and visited the Verupakshi Temple. The weather kept us from going out for a trek but the rains and the cloudy mist did have its charms and lent a certain softness to the austerity that is suffused in the rocky scape of Hampi. The wafting mist makes a pretty picture in tones of gray and brown of the Hampi rocks. A second trip is definitely on the cards.

Sky High

2008-02-29T08:48:00.003+05:30

While walking today morning, i looked up to see an aeroplane flying overhead. It was low enough to be recognized as a part of the "Kingfisher" brand. And suddenly the act of looking up was a wonder filled moment, experienced long ago while as a child, when spotting aeroplanes in the sky was a rare phenomenon.

Sometimes when i think of a time years and years ago, it was unfathomable for me to be where i am now. The possibility of opening up the unimaginable while not new to me, is certainly not something i have put to practice either. The hope of the unattainable or the fear of recognition of who i can possibly be is at the same time both awe inspiring and random, for sky is not the limit.

A night before a wedding

2008-01-24T04:00:00.000+05:30

A night before a wedding, my wedding at that, while being strangely being devoid of anxiety is sleepless nonetheless. The time between Paris and now strangely seems to have dissolved into a nothingness i had not planned for about three months back.

Now when i look back at the time of the last post, i do recall a lot of activities planned which just does not seem to have materialized in this interim. Things unsaid and undone comes back and questions my priorities and fundamentally makes me wonder if i have been paying attention to life in general or just trying to deal with one day at a time and have been caught in the mundane.

While tomorrow seems so full of promises there is so much tonight is still worthy of accomplishing. For starters if you're reading this it does mean in some small way you care enough and its a happy thought even as i write this. I am getting married to Kunal and i hope its a blast.

Things I love about Paris...

2007-10-31T20:01:00.000+05:30

1. Cobblestone pathways
2. The smell of fresh croissants wafting in the subway in the wee hours of the morning
3. The fallen leaves around the place in Autumn in shades of yellow, ochre, amber, and orange and brown
4. The bridges on the Seine lit up in the evening
5. People jogging at all times in the day
6. The accent with which the French speak English.
7. The wayside boulangeries, brasseries and patisseries with their rope (?) and wooden chairs

...more in a bit.

Paris Dairies - A walk by the Seine

2007-10-28T10:01:00.000+05:30

Either its simply a wonderful time of the year or i am just completely in awe of Paris and a little still not believing that i am actually here. There is a nip in the air and the weather is a pleasant cloudy and perfect to just roam around.

Took the subway to Gare de Lyon and walked upto Bastille and then by the river upto the Cathedral of Norte Dame. Its a beautiful walk, peppered with so many cosy couples that they somehow weave themselves beautifully into the fabric of the exotic architecture and becomes quintessentially Paris. The bridges are lit to lend a golden hue to all around and phototgraphing Paris in the night becomes a pleasure.

Discovery of the day..

2007-10-14T18:21:00.000+05:30

I spent most part of the day today at Hogenakkal Falls, about 140kms from Bangalore, India. Out there on a little coracle, sailing silently along the Cauvery river, i came upon this bunch of little fellows who would jump off a cliff for INR 5 (approx. 13 cents)

Chance Findings

2007-09-23T20:40:00.000+05:30

Driving around aimlessly on saturday i chanced upon this really pretty water body. Dirty as it was, there was hundreds of water lilies in bloom. Somehow even with the floating plastic, slippers, mineral water bottles etc, the flowers stood there looking pretty and inviting.

Here's some of the beauty ...cropped just so that the diversions are avoided :)

Rainy days in Khandala

2007-09-17T14:39:00.000+05:30

Here I am in the land made once famous by Aamir Khan and his cheekily romantic love song [Aati kya Khandala?]. When I think of what the song describes and slowly as the lyrics roll around inside my head, Khandala is all that and so much more. The sound of rain has a whole new meaning when it is not interspersed with the traffic and other noises so common in urban dwelling that only the lack of it comes across as startling.

There is a feeling of gentle nothingness, and I am awakened from deep slumber by the gentle splashing of water droplets from a steady rain outside. I stare blankly at the birds scurrying to find shelter and the drops of water at the edge of leaves pausing for a precious moment before plunging downwards. There is a strange serenity in spending a lazy afternoon lying about in a quilt overlooking the ghats of lonavala. The cloud loll past over the hills in great big puffs of smoke as the rains shower the valley in its mid-afternoon gaiety, drenching, cleansing. The sounds of bird calls and the pitter-patter of rain is all that pervades the space.

And suddenly I am made aware that I have company, by the laughter that rises from the floor beneath. Thunderous and almost a sound I’ve stopped to sit and listen for.

Different sounds drifting around in this house and here is my little list of it

1. The pitter-patter of rain

2. Twittering of birds

3. The distant rumble of a train

4. The sound of someone sweeping the gravel pathway below

5. Sounds of someone trimming the hedges around

6. A dog barking sometimes

7. People laughing

8. Sighs... long contended sighs

And I wonder when it was that I had last heard similar sounds. Is this why people travel to places far and wide in search of serenity and peace? I wonder if there will ever be an end to search but there is definitely a longing for more.

Kiss-n-tell

2007-06-15T22:32:00.001+05:30

How many times have you heard your folks remark about that shameless young girl in the mall in a skimpy skirt cuddling up to this guy, or the way girls sit on bikes literally sticking to the rider [male obviously!]. To top it all, heaven have it if they spot someone pecking or kissing in a public place, out comes a tirade of culture and how it's gone to the dogs.

Well that's scene 1, consider scene 2.

2 sets of Parents meet each other with the child in tow, so set 1 says to their girl child [hereafter denoted as Set 1]
Set 1: Give a kiss to bunty, [prods the shy little girl] she's just learnt to kiss you know.
Set 2: Oh-la-la
Set 1: [pushes the girl towards bunty, girl in a dilema and motions a flying kiss, bunty indifferent looking at a bug on the road with growing fascination]
Set 2: [determined not to be undermined] Bunty jao Shreya ke kiss koro (Bunty kiss Shreya) [Bunty puckers up absentmindedly, still looking at the bug]
Set 1 & Set 2: Awwwww!!!!

Well just that the two are about a year and a half...and couple more years and i am sure their parents will start raising eyebrows...

Love Conquers All

2007-06-08T23:52:00.000+05:30

Love Conquers All. Hmmm...been slightly over ten years since those three words faded from the memory. The motto of my school, refreshed by a chance search and discovery of an entry in wikipedia by the name of Sacred Heart School.

Strange, how things have a way of coming around, ages after that phase of my life has almost acquired a surreal quality. Its right here in wikipedia that i discover a whole new dimension to my schooling, a rich history which i never quite discovered in the thirteen years that i spend there. Among the many things i will always remain grateful to my parents, the education i received at Sacred Hearts' is probably the biggest.

As a child, growing up in Jamshedpur, i recall the strong associations between the school and the crucial role Tata Steel played in the general well-being of the place. As i skim through the wiki page, the dates almost makes it look antique and I close my eyes and think of the corridors i ran and the numerous places i fell. It almost makes me believe that in some way i left behind a piece of me somewhere in the walls. The transition from a child to a girl might have seemed painfully slow back then, and i can almost recall wishing to grow up fast. Yet, somehow, when i sit and key this in, i wonder if i had had enough of the place. I still wonder and nurture this vague little desire to be able to go back and feel all i feel now sitting miles away and pouring over a web page.

Visiting school was an annual affair with me, however over the years as the number of familiar faces have dwindled, so has the longing for this annual visit. Sometimes i am aghast at my ability to fiercely hold on to things long gone and refuse to see it for what it is today, in the fear of having to let go of notions i hold so dear.

...i suppose i am just growing old.

Falling for chaos...

2007-06-08T20:04:00.001+05:30

In a rare moment of considerable lucidity i decided today that while i liked events or situations in life to follow an expected pattern and deliver a sense of well-being, its truly those moments of chaos that i thrive upon.

There is somehow a feeling of emptiness and lack of participation when everything is as planned or foreseen. Somehow i manage to upset events in my life to have chaotic implications which i then set about fixing only to mess up again.

So when is the last time you did something crazy in the name of passion, to revel in the humor of it all in time?

Dream On...

2007-06-07T16:09:00.000+05:30

Its a tad too late, but i guess an eternally youthful subject to write upon for all rock fans.

Aerosmith rocked Bangalore last weekend, or well about the 30,000 odd people who cared to be in Palace Grounds. And what more can i say about Steven Tyler, the vocalist and true blue showman [Ahem!] He donned the frontman status rather down to the nail, complete with snake-skin [like] hat, leopard print scarf, a butterfly at the neck, painted nails and the ostentatious tattoos all over [special mention of the huge "Lick me" on the belly]. He does emulate the dude lookin' like a lady all right, which then makes the camera swirl to Joe Perry, suave and well very very traditional rockstar'ish, with a flowing mane and non-nonsense style of a man true to his music more than anything else. The rest pretty much were part of all the gadgetry that made wonderful music except for Tom Hamilton for the bit on 'Sweet Emotion'.

I stood there and wondered, how a bunch of 60 odd year olds can inspire a crowd of 30,000 to stand being jostled from all sides for over 3 hours and still make them wait some more. And this is not even their hey days. I wonder what it would have been like to attend an Aerosmith concert about a decade or two back.

The smell of sweat and marijuana pervades the place, and well after a while the jostling of people actually helps stabilize yourself and continuously move you around to experiment different views, Predictably the show starts with 'Taste of India' and then they go on to play their all time hits including some new one's.

By the time i walk out of the show, i am aching and a sneaky thought creeps in if i am just too old but then again, i suppose its all worth a story to a bunch of grandchilren [*chuckle*]

*Pics courtesy Him's help in getting my mobile phone bluetooth up and running

Goa again ...

2007-06-02T04:19:00.000+05:30

Nearly a year back i'd visited goa and posted some pics here. I married that visit with my recent discovery of Jumpcut and well produced this.

Yes i do want to go back!

Jumpcut!

2007-05-31T19:41:00.000+05:30

I just discovered Jumpcut just a while back. and made this :)

A journey to nowhere...

Jumpcut is a free software to make flashmovies absolutely simply. Its quite a find and i am sure that there must be other similar stuff out there as well. But till i discover something better, Jumpcut rocks.

Grumble, grumble...

2007-05-30T07:35:00.000+05:30

From a casual conversation stemmed thoughts of positivity versus dissatisfaction. I wonder if that little [and i repeat little] amount of dissatisfaction is necessary for that extra push and stretch.

In a lot of small ways i am dissatisfied with who i am today, i find myself planning now and again. Looking for long term and short term goals. Here's a list of things i've been telling myself of late.

Visit a new country every year
Study - Not just read, but study. Have a clear goal of what milestones to achieve
And then again read some, i just stacked up the following to read Arundhati Roy's "An ordinary person's guide to the empire" and JD Salinger's "Raise High the roof beam carpenter & Seymour: An introduction" [Finally!]
Play the guitar just a little bit everyday, but do that without fail everyday
Exercise everyday or better still swim

Phew that's all i had and now let me do a post in about a week commenting if i followed this stuff up there :)

Revival...

2007-05-09T22:51:00.000+05:30

I've been telling myself for a while that this blog needs reviving, as all other things that have come to a near stand still, and well not so surprisingly I never run out of excuses. I've tried everything from differing priorities to high interrupt work which just could not wait.

Finally I am out of excuses and here I am keying in furiously to say things that have perhaps been oft said and discover realizations which perhaps you have everyday. Yet there is a sense of novelty and new beginning.

I've been euphoric for a while, people have been commending me little by little on my far and few between shots of this and that. The first Bangalore Photography Festival exhibited a few of them, but the treatment doled out to amateur work was more discouraging than anything else. Nonetheless, I sought approval from a wider audience and it felt nice to just see that work out there.

Discovering the unacknowledged...

2007-03-29T18:51:00.000+05:30

He ran, with all his might, behind the car, a bunch of scarlet flowers in his hand that he desperately wanted to peddle. A slight figure, maybe a boy of eight or so, weather beaten, narrowed eyes typical of a lad of the hills. Panting...receding in the distance as the car moved on and the boy slowed down as well.

Something seemed amiss, a little boy chasing a wanton car full of tourists in a lush hillside for a meager amount that i am sure would not pinch in the least. Perhaps i suddenly discovered the way i had hardened to my surroundings the lack of compassion and purely the loss of ability to be moved by the sight enough to stop and reach out.

It made me feel small to draw out the camera and attempt a shot at him, and even smaller to have that thought cross my mind.

Then i met Deepak Bela, here is a pic i took of him, must be a boy of ten studying in Class VI and working at a tea stall. Well i guess i am not new to child labour laws, but i guess i did not have the courage to speak up. It made me feel guilty to tip him. I wonder if all the world is made up of people like me?

And then again, there is Robert Frost's famous lines
"The woods are lovely, dark and deep
And i have promises to keep
And miles to go before i sleep
And miles to go before i sleep"

Question..

2007-01-31T15:36:00.000+05:30

When was the last time you laughed so hard that tears rolled down your eyes?

Familiar thoughts

2006-11-17T07:10:00.000+05:30

you touched me...
in words that haunt the mind, crashing as a waterfall
in the gurgling of sweet nothings
in the long sigh of having said it all
in the way you leave things unsaid
in the shallow brimmings you impishly tread

you touched me...
in the gentle heaving of a moan
in the way you flow in all the silence foretold
in the way your words float over distances afar
in the navigation over ridges when you confer

you touched me...
in the sparkling revelations of secret desires
in the want of belonging before the moment expires
in long thoughts of known limitations
in moments that surprise at the depth of passsions

you touched me...
in the casting of your longings
binding me to you
the way you bind yourself to me
in the moorings of your soul

Roadtrip - Yercaud - Coonoor so far...

2006-10-22T03:42:00.000+05:30

There is an undefineable longing that the hills propogate. A sense of homecoming without actually belonging here. As we make the long and winding road up to the hills of Coonoor, we cut down Simon & Garfunkel to listen to the quaint sounds of the hills.

Its well past three in the morning as i key this in. The air is crisp and gentle sounds of crickets chirping coming in through the window. Its a comforting feeling just to lie back in bed and listen to them. The wide bay window over looks the valley, spotted by a few lights glowing here and there. Not so long back the sky was lit up by a dazzling display of Diwali fireworks, sparkling yellow, red and green, the smoke from which still lays heavy. Or maybe its just the mist. I wonder if this is a world my children will know, a place where money is blown up to ashes in the name of celebration. [Or maybe i am just growing increasing cynical]

The road to Yercaud from Bangalore is pleasant, wide roads permit good speeds of upto 130 kmph, which gets curtailed to a crawl as we move up into the hills. The air is clean and if i stop by long enough i can actually feel the mist pass me by. Yercaud is a sleepy old place with nothing but serenity prevailing, yet untouched by the hordes of tourists. This is my third trip here, nothing but just to go and sit at the summit of one of the peaks and watch the clouds waft past, a sense of nothingness touches you, almost making you complete. I merge in with the setting sun, enveloped in mist, the darkness overwhelms me, and as if on a cue the lights in the valley come on, to include me in the universal dance of beauty.

More pics are here

Abar Pujo!

2006-10-07T21:29:00.000+05:30

Pujo (Durga Puja for the uninitiated) is perhaps in the blood stream of every bengali. There is a natural buoyance and exhuberance during those four days of the puja's, between shosthi and doshomi i have a sneaky suspision that the bengali lives his entire year of joy.

This Pujo i went back to Jamshedpur, to visit my family and after ages (unlike a bengali...and don't you go by my surname here) i visited the pujor pandel. Its a sultry night and driving by the confluence of the Subarnarekha and Kharkhai rivers is a pleasure by itself. The half moon peeks in between the strips of clouds. Its minutes before i reach the Circuit House Area pandel, to the bleak strains of born free playing in the background. And suddenly its interrupted by racous bollywood's latest romantic numbers, as always overstated and explicit. Its a heady place, getting there well past eleven on the night of nobomi, the throng of people even at that hour is huge. The mix of incense and perfume and not to mention sweat, is distinctive and very pujo-like.

Ma Durga

Among others i guess the CH Area pandel has always been the hub of all activity. Bhog, which is the quinessential offering made to Goddess Durga and is one of the most scrumptious of foods. Apart from that well this place has been the launch pad of efforts of many a young fellow seeking that blingy girl, dressed up in her Pujo best.

The CH Area Pandel

And then the crux of it all, it isn't Pujo if there isn't enough to hog, the egg rolls with chicken or mutton and onions in the spicy red sauce, vegetable chops with the peculiarly tasty crust, devils, jhal-muri, phuchka and what not and before i miss it, masala cold-drinks...especially the one near Regal Grounds (Gopal Maidan now). Not to mention Ma'er hather ranna*, the chingri maach, eelish and kakra** and what not else.

Its a different feeling to be in Jamshedpur, the gray of the Dalma hills, the Subarnarekha meandering, the tree-lined avenues and the sparse traffic makes it very navigable and almost a pleasure to be perpetually on the road. The silence is permeating and well it gives a sense of solitude that is oft sought after hard but comes in a easy unrestrained package here. Even on the evening of Dashami, when you see the river flowing by with the remnants of the once magnificient idols and flowers, its an odd feeling of loss.

The idol before the bhashaan, smeared by the
vermillion of Sindoor-Khela (Married women smear each
other with vermillion signifying a long married life)

* Mom's cooking
** Shrimps, fish and Crabs

Sunrise @ Kanakpura

2006-09-14T11:21:00.000+05:30

Time: 0525 Hrs
Day: Monday
Date: 11th Sept, 2006

Well i didn't exactly quit work on a Monday morning, but then having to work did not deter me from watching a sunrise. The occasion was Parul's birthday and what better way to celebrate than to greet the day thus.

Here are two pictures from the trip, since this blog started to carry more pictures than musings i decided to move to "flickr". More pictures can be found here.

Goa - Through the lens

2006-08-31T17:33:00.000+05:30

One of those shots from the train

The "Dudhsagar" falls from the train

View of the Arabian Sea form Fort Aguada

One of those wayside churches on a rainy Goan night

A lone coconut tree on the Anjuna Beach

Love themes...

2006-08-31T17:19:00.001+05:30

It's been a while now, really, much too long, since i stopped by here, took a deep breath and let the finger strokes on the keypad do the talking... to faces unknown and people far out of my reach.

The decision to revisit and re-kindle a lost flame for writing was while i was still busy trying to rationalise laziness as being busy at work. The first step to sanity in a work day has always been to listen to music that i haven't heard in a long time at random.

Love Theme fromRomeo and Juliet plays, and suddenly i am no longer in my cubicle at work. There is a fuzzy picture of a couple dancing in a vast expanse of a wooden floor the rich dark colour of mahogany. They're bathed in white, which makes the picture fuzzy, but just enough of the colour shines thorough to add a hint of reality. The blush on her cheeks against his strong jawline, the lithe movements of 'em both as they glide across the floor. There are just snatches, the swirl of her skirt as she is whirled around, the gentle dip, the effortless letting go of each other only to rejoin in perfect synchronisation.

Snap!

The song reaches its cresendo and gently ends in a lilt, and i am transported back to be the one who jots down the imagery. I wonder if imagination is sometimes stronger than reality.

Of days gone by....

2006-07-24T15:28:00.000+05:30

Fergusson College Hostel

There is seldom more than memories of places that we have been through. That old house you lived in when you were a child, the schools you passed through, the hostels you inhabited.

However, it is indeed rare that we go back and stand at these places and try and feel a bit of what you had felt years ago when you were a part of the place.

The adjoining pic for example is the path that leads from the Fergusson College Ladies Hostel to the college. I must have tread this path a zillion times, through scorching sun and rain, but when i went back this time to walk by knowing that it is one of those rare moments (maybe my last ever) it was a different feeling. The steps fell deliberate and slow, one at a time conscious, feeling and trying to imagine how the folks passed by in their usual hustle, smiling briefly, yelling about what was the menu for lunch or general tit-bits.

The only thing i do really miss about college was the hostel, at this point i hope it won't be too late to say that the girls truly made life, for those three years worth it. From, trivial ragging, to late night maggi sessions, to water fights, telephone queues, to running back in at the stroke of eight and birthday bashes it was worth it all. The standing by for each other especially thru sickness made it feel truly like family. The old stone building with bad infrastructure still had so much warmth.

Jeevan Pradeep

This was another crazy place, the best parts of still being a student was spent here. This was where freedom took shape and responsibility kicked in just for the right balance. This was where all of us mad people lived.

Its not so funny as to the things which happened here but going back was an experience by itself, walking down the lanes i lost myself at the different constructions happening around it and well had to ask my way around to a place that i had lived in ages back.

This the pic of the lane the led from the apartment to the main road. On all mornings you could see a bunch of guirls running down this lane at roughly five minutes to eight, for an eight o'clock lecture. On certain days you could see one specimen :) hiding a cup behind a tree which seconds ago carried the morning tea.

And finally, here is a pic of the building, i caught it at a funny time, there is this very "Romeo & Juliet" (well not quite) style ladder which perhaps elaborates methods that we never thought of .

However needless to say it was nostalgic, but more than that i was glad it was deliberate and slow in an almost surreal way, as if life just had not moved on.

Spices of life...

2006-07-14T12:39:00.000+05:30

While Prateek drove us to work one of these days, i discovered the camera lying in my bag and decided to take pictures of the mundane things, that i see on the way to work everyday. Turns out, they weren't so mundane after all. :)

A mosque near my house. I never quite noticed, the number of wires running across it if you notice closely.

On the right was a rather solemn looking man crossing the street with his tower burden of blankets (or something like it)

The one below is totally food for snide remarks (and much amusement). This one was a poster of a Kannada movie (or was it from Andhra) . It so completely had it all, buxom ladies and a hero with a very bewildered look.

Two men in a truck amidst lots of crates with i dunno what.

And lastly, this was taken when i reached work, children in school uniforms playing in the park across the road. They looked like truants to me, and i will not begrudge the laughter that the wind carried.

Its been a while since i truly rolled on the floor laughing...

Rainy day woman...

2006-07-06T15:29:00.000+05:30

There is something about the way the rain falls...when you allow it to touch you, of course. When you take the time to lie fully conscious in the water and allow the rain to fall on you. First in gentle drops, over you and all around, creating the little ripples in the water. The rain falling on the shruberry that surrounds the pool, the gentle trickling down of the water and falling in drops, crystal clear with a quality of innocence long forgotten.

The only sounds you hear is of the gentle pitter patter of the falling drops of water, with a powdery quality to it, and slowly gaining pace, slowly resonating and gaining momentum. Suddenly before you realise its pouring down on you. The gentle fall transformed almost to rise in a crescendo of music seldom heard. And suddenly tearing through that is the penetrating boom of a gong somewhere distant yet distinct. As if in response i spur forward into the water, one deep stroke ensures that i am engulfed in the momentary silence of being underwater. Slowly, deliberately i surface, with the water washing over me almost in a whisper.

Its been long since i've heard the rain, its been long since i purged the voices inside my head and let silence fill it up. But silence has an ephemeral quality and its a myth that it can only be found in chosen places, after all"...Everybody must get stoned."

'M Tagged!

2006-06-28T17:21:00.000+05:30

Just when this blog was dozing off, Anyesha tagged me, so here i am continuing her "Me, Me, Me Meme"

I am thinking about...
Misty green hills and sun-kissed tree tops, of long leisurely walks amidst tall silver oaks.

I said...
this is my life and i need to have some sense of control over it (illusion anyone?) about 2 hrs back.

I want to...
Run.

I wish...
i'd get that occasional hug whenever i want it most.

I hear…
"It's a hand me down...the thoughts are broken, perhaps they're better left unsung..." .....Grateful Dead's "Ripple" and the soft clickety-clak as i key this in.

I wonder...
why acceptance is so difficult.

I regret...
not laughing enough :D

I am...
going to die......someday...

I dance...
even when i don't get an opportunity

I sing...
almost whenever i am not talking, especially when there is no audience :P

I cry...
whenever i feel like letting go.

I am not always...
as rational as i'd like to be.

I make with my hands...
a lot of cacophony (accompanied by the Guitar)

I write...
letters which actually use the postal service (can you believe it!)

I confuse...
excuses for reasons often.

I need...
nice people like you to not give up on me and keep reading this space.

And finally...
Navreet: because i think it'll keep her busy for a while :)
Golliwog: because her blog is gone to sleep and i kinda miss it.
Amarjeet: because i haven't been in touch with him for a while.
Chander: because am sure he'll use this us well.
Rahul: OH! C'MON NOW I DON"T NEED A REASON ALL THE TIME.

Its a beautiful day!

2006-05-31T11:06:00.000+05:30

Bangalore has been experiencing this wonderful weather for the last couple of days, it makes it a little difficult to stay indoors and not feel the wind on your face. On one such beautiful day some of us ran away from office to steal a couple of hours at IISc. Here are some of the late evening pics from there... I was fascinated by the lamps :)

Treasure Hunting...

2006-05-31T10:33:00.000+05:30

Life's little pleasures came our way as part of a treasure hunting program Prateek and I undertook over last sunday. It was cloudy and windy and to cut a long story short... awesome weather for a drive. Prateek and me took off on six clues to cover six check points in the shortest possible distance. We made a couple of costly mistakes and predictably didn't win.

However here is the learning in case you embark upon something similar or even life in general.

1. Prepare aforehand. Two smart people went for a treasure hunt without even a map. Its a different story that we had tons of friends to come to our aid.

2. Discuss, discuss, discuss - You need to be on the same page and think through the same things before entertaining conflicting ideas.

3. Sometimes it help to not be an enthu cutlet and plan things out before we act. All in all, we had fun, some learnings and a great drive around the city.

Prateek and me and the Alto

And time stood still....

2006-05-08T17:40:00.000+05:30

It’s the peaceful feeling of timelessness…or perhaps the lack of thoughts that really stands out from the last weekend, spent floating about in Honnemaradu. It’s perhaps a place when time is simply scared to enter for fear of rebuke.

The place is largely hilly wilderness nursing a huge reservoir in its womb. Vast and seemingly endless at points where it met the horizon. The water was clean and spotted by islands ridged almost as if it has undergone a painter’s brush. From the quaint coves, the bare tree trunks standing up defiantly in the water, the birds overhead to the sounds of the jungle and the water lapping…everything had a feel of suspended animation. As if time was never let in.

Two days spent swimming (some 7-8 kms largely with Aseem (right)), canoeing, kayaking and sail boarding (the sail tore though, and all that was left was the board) was a weekend well spent. Some places are better left experienced than talked about, this is one of them. Here is the serenity captured as best as my Nikon could.

Some of the loonies i was with L to R(Soumya, Dharma, Vikram, Mithun)

The miles before Honnemaradu

The reservoir at Honnemaradu

Sunset at the waters

...and the cloudy sunrise
One of the picture perfect islands
The sunset at Shimoga

P.S. The Product Engineering Team at Tejas Networks rocks for their choice of offsite destinations and more importantly for entertaining free loaders like me :).

None of this would have been here but for the folks on the left. They have been warm and welcoming and most importantly accepting.

Thank you all!

Coorg: Day II & III - Thadiyandamol

2006-05-04T13:14:00.000+05:30

The drive from Dubare took us to Madikeri (Mercara) for a monstrous lunch and the most exciting part of the trek. Madikeri was rather uneventful except for some awesome milshakes and spats with the local traffic cops for breaking a "NO Entry" sign which wasn't there in the first place. :)

The drive from Madikeri is beautiful, gently undulating roads that winds across the hills. Here i must put in a word about the local folks, despite our trustworthy Lonely Planet and Outlook Traveller, we stopped numerous times at forks to ask for directions or simply to take a road less travelled. The folks were always forthcoming and helpful.

We reached the last paved road to Thadiyandamol at four in the evening and set off to trek almost immediately. By half past six we had discovered numerous scenic points around the hills and even decided to come back the next morning for a view of the sunrise. Somewhere it bothered not scaling the highest peak (1752 mts - and a six hour trek) since we were leaving next morning.

Enter Anurag Maheswari .....

Well figuratively, since he popped up the idea of starting a trek in the wee hours of the next day. So here we were getting drunk on some Beer, Vodka and Wine and everyone thinks the other will be too groggy to actually take up the guantlet Anurag had just thrown.

0320 Hrs of the next day saw five of us up and about, all set for the proposed trek, surprise, surprise! The first part till the base of the hill took us about two hours through dense foliage aided by a feeble torch light.

The one thing that almost hits you with a force of a speeding truck is the sky, a gazillion stars and a valley spreading out at your feet as far as the eyes can see and make out the drak shapes. The sounds of the jungle is another, wild calls with the swooshing of the wind and the crickets and other calls of the wild. The one other source of wonder was the numerous fireflies, on the trees and all over glowing and dimming in a very festive way. I wonder then if i should be scared were i alone or just in peace.

The foothills of the two peaks we scaled next was when dawn finally showed up. We scaled the shorter one (a case of mistaken identity) the more rocky of the two and more difficult to climb. We reached the peak in about forty minutes only to realise that we should have scaled the other one. Actually this was by far the most pleasant diversion, challenging and very very rewarding at the peak.

The second hill and the one christened as "Thadiyandamol" literally meaning "My tall one" was pleasant in the morning especially since a large part of it was through some jungles. I will leave out the description of how it was on the top, here are more that a thousand words to do so.

The two peaks we scaled

A view of the foliage

a lone bamboo shoot

A view of the hills

The valley from the peak

The perfect sunrise from the peak

Coorg: Day II - Dubare - Romancing Jumbos

2006-05-03T17:53:00.000+05:30

Dawn over the coconut groves

Sunrise

Morning was by a rivulet in the middle of nowhere. The sunrise greets you as you sleepily crawl out of the tents and head off to Dubare. Dubare consists of an elephant training camp, wherein a large part of the fun is just the proximity with the tuskers and lazing in the shade. The most enticing part of this leg of the trip was to bathe the elephants. Here are some of my favourite shots.

Mom and Baby elephant

In the river

Those melancholy eyes...

Coorg: Day I - Bylakuppe - Namdroling Monastry

2006-05-03T09:40:00.000+05:30

The Namdroling Monastry is almost an anachronism of sorts. There is a serenity and vibrance of a throbbing culture so deftly intermingled that it makes it almost unbelieveable.

Most of my impression is obviously colured by the interactions i had with the monks there, however i will like to keep this as unbiased as possible and put forth all that i perceived at the outset. The entrance to the Namdroling Monastry is an ornate gate with a massive dragon painted in from of it.

Upon entering another misfit to the place was a series of absolutely slick bikes that were parked, sleek and bright red with Ducati written across. But apparently it turned out to be a modified Pulsar really. I was frankly amazed.

Apart from that the place is literally manicured. Green lawns with splinklers and ducks wadddling about. But the one thing that takes away all the attention is the first structure which is the Tibetian depiction of how heaven is. Grand and infinitely colourful. Perhaps all the colours one can imagine is right here in front of you defiant of any misery or torment that might ever exist.

The main attraction of the monastry is however the 50 mts tall statues of Padmasambhava, Buddha and Amitayo (pic below). Much is known about Lord Buddha, Padmasambhava was the one who brought Buddhism to Tibet and Lord Amitayo is the one who showed the path of mediatation as a secret to a longer life.

Some more pics of the monastry below...

Gold plated statues of Lord Padmasambhava, Lord Buddha and Lord Amitayo

An ornate door

A medley of colours

One li'l monk

Coorg : Day I - On the Road

2006-05-02T08:01:00.000+05:30

Few trips get dedicated day to day listings, this happened to be one such trip. Unplanned, impulsive and a load of fun is how i'd describe this. The first day consisted of a drive down to Bylakuppe, the second largest tibetian settlement in India.

Pictures from the road...

The group(From L to R): Parul, Namit, Dharma, Soumya, Anurag, Harsh & Prateek...

And the guides...

and the road...

and some more of it...

and finally a sign of things to come, like an omen in the middle of nowhere.

Sounds of Silence!

2006-04-24T10:25:00.000+05:30

I woke up today morning to the slight whirring of the fan above and the chirping of birds outside, and suddenly it dawned on me that i've never wondered what birds they were till such time. There were the fimiliar sounds of the morning, a pigeon cooing in an almost docile manner on the window ledge, the water running in the sink, the gushing of the shower, even the faint humming of a motor somewhere. It isn't a miracle that i can hear, but after last night it sure felt that way.

Chrysallis (Performance arts centre for the physically and developmentally challenged) organised "A Special Partnership" which brought together people from various professional walks of life, with and without physical challenges. The interaction brought forth an interesting mix of ideas and creativity to sensitize people on the same.

The poems/ prose recited on the occasion were powerful and moving, however there is always something special about music, and the Swedish Punk Bubblegum Rock band left no stone unturned, by churning out a composition in less than 20 mins. The piece will not be complete without the mention of Ritwick and Roshan (in the adjoining pic) , who totally rocked.

Somehow over the last evening and the drive back home, it feels as if things have suddenly become more visible and audible. Some top of the mind sights and sounds that i can carry in my heart without them actually being around

1. The creaking of a swing (possibly in protest of my weight) and the way the sky looks when i sway to and fro.
2. The sound of a waterfall and the way the rainbow appears on it on a sunny day.
3. The tall trees and the sudden calls from birds sounding almost like a whistle.
4. The rustle of the trees in response to a drift of air.
5. The sizzling sound of a delicacy on fire.
6. Rain on a tin roof.

(P.S. Parul/ Prateek, thank you for the opportunity)

More from the heights of Kemmengundi...

2006-04-20T15:02:00.000+05:30

The funky trekkers at Kemmengundi (From Right : Anurag, Harsh, Vivek, Zishaan with his funky D70, Parul [kinda hidden], Prateek, Raul, Mani, Tina & Dev from Nature Admire who organised this for us)

Blue skies with a hint of orange!

A yellow one at sun down

The morning after the rains...

A funky angle of the rivulet.

Kemmengundi

2006-04-18T09:04:00.001+05:30

“What is the latest version of JAVA?” cackled Rahul, over the din to a bunch of engineers largely related to software.

After a moment of silence, he answers it himself with a flourish,

“Mar JAVA, Mit JAVA”,

That’s how the trip started, with a bunch of ten amicable people, of whom I barely knew four.

We are out of a riot torn Bangalore and thanking the timing to just be able to escape all the violence the city witnessed the day before.

We are en route to a camping/trekking stint at Kemmengundi. When I think of the associations this funny sounding name brings to mind now, its that of a lonesome little hill station amidst a panoramic view of the hills surrounding it. In the distance you see clouds wafting around and the greens is primarily those of Silver oak, Mahogany, Eucalyptus and Coffee plantations. Now add amazing weather to all of this and a sizeable waterfall (Hebbe Falls) to boast of, all set in a time when the moon shone in its full glory.

We close in on Kemmengundi near midnight and amidst the slumber, which the hour brings in, Mani suddenly lets out a startled expression at the valley slowly unfolding as we take to the hills further and further up. It’s a full moon night; most shapes clean and the dark shape of the hills loom large with clouds wafting by in an almost genteel manner. These are the first sights that welcome you. Its late and the campsite is a clean patch surrounded by tall oaks…Can’t help falling in love… the tents are pitched…Knock, knock, knocking on… and we curl up to the last of the tunes from Prateek’s guitar…Pal, rahen ya na rahen, yaad aayenge ye pal…

The trek is marked out for a 9km stretch spanning three hills and concluding at the Hebbe falls, a near 170 mt fall broken up roughly in two stages. The terrain is easy, especially on the downhill, largely over the dirt tracks on the hillsides. The fall has a gush of water unexpected, for the season. The fact that we jumped in would be an understatement, but the cold water beating down on our heads is a feeling quite indescribable after three hours of hiking/trekking. It tends to not just to drench but in a curious way cleanses. There ain’t any precious moments to ponder, there is just laughter, sounds of water all over and lots of splashing. The return needless to say saps every last ounce of energy, enough to want to run back to the falls.

The Rock Garden is strikingly well maintained (The same goes for the Govt. Horticulture dept. and the Raj Bhavan Garden). It almost makes one yearn to get back to the forest. Despite all its beauty it speaks of human intervention, something that I wanted to escape this weekend. Nonetheless the view from the rock garden is amazing, especially at sunset.

Nightfall, heralds the bonfire, raucous singing, dumb charades and general hullabaloo, concluded just in time for the oncoming torrential rains. A blissful night of sleep is undisturbed even by the pounding of the rain on the tents. It’s a balmy night and waking up in between to just look at a sky studded with stars after a night of substantial rain is a feeling by itself. Fatigue fades away, as what you behold is infinitely beautiful, dark shapes of the hills around covered with tall trees seemingly reaching out to the stars and a full moon above. It’s a beautiful blue and not just the colour…

(Zishaan, Vivek, Tina, Rahul, Prateek, Parul, Mani, Harsh, Anurag you’ve all been great company and somehow I fail to capture in this all the little incidents that made the company so cherished)

Always a woman...

2006-03-30T19:09:00.000+05:30

I've been rejoicing being a woman of late. There have been instances enough to make me feel deliciously feminine, blissfully unaware of any derogatory looks/remarks and stuff that made me angry in the past. Or maybe, i just learnt to overlook that which did not gel with me and moved on to only what i choose to take in.

Incidentally while i was still at it, here is what i read on Anyesha's blog. It's got a lot of truth and i have faced my share of being made to feel inferior. The latest one from my mom, something vague about being a burden to her till i get married. This is ofcourse an emotional burden (not economic) she speaks of and i ain't a mom yet, so can't really find myself sympathising with that one. Well like they say, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent, so i will presently like to disregard that one.

However, what i had in mind was something quite different. I was feeling great about being independant and having a life of my own, courtesy women's liberation and all of the latest jazz. Also its great to have a husband/boyfriend and be treated like a princess in the name of chivalry (this is more an input from recently married/hooked friends). Thanks to the patriarchal society of course. For most part i always seem to get my way.

There is ofcourse people raising their eyebrows in the recent lifestyles and of course no dearth of "well-wishers" who want to see you married for "your own" best interests ofcourse. But then what the heck i love being pampered. That one even Anyesha will agree with :).

Cosmic Insignificance!

2006-03-27T16:29:00.000+05:30

The first thing i saw was the dull brown of the 16-tonne truck, hurtling forward on my left. The next moment time stopped and silence hung almost like a dark grey cloud ready to burst forth as dawn slowly broke over the Gurgaon-Delhi Highway early today. The left hand side of the car caved in slowly inch-by-inch with the fluidity almost similar to the ripples a stone would create in water. The windows cracked up next and the glass fell in silence on me, not hurting, just touching in an almost feathery manner. And i sat there, mesmerized, looking onto something incredibly beautiful, and seeing the rear of the truck slowly inching towards the rear end of the car, where i was sitting.

No proverbial entire-life-flashing-in-front-of-you happened, it was just an incredible calm, followed by a thought that of the numerous accidents that take place in these very streets one more could not matter much and that no one would quite be very affected if i died right there. It was a very peaceful and yet saddening thought at the same time.

As i walked out shaken and blissfully unhurt from the car, the thought stuck on. The insignificance of one life in the cosmic frame of things retierated. And then as always this too passed and i carried on to take a flight out to B'lore.

P.S. I love having friends around, they actually sometimes convince me of the significance i hold for them. Well not cosmic enough, but they form my world alright.

Shots from the 25th floor

2006-03-17T18:38:00.000+05:30

The sun just about peeping over the Mumbai Skyline

The complete ball of orange aglow!

The skyline in the night

Jingbang Member #1: Golliwog

Jingbang Member #2: Bhashwati

Jingbang Member #3: Kripa

Of weddings and sleepless nights...

2006-03-17T17:23:00.000+05:30

When I think of fatty’s wedding, it somehow seems to have registered as a fusion of colors. A deluge of colors on a canvas created by a single stroke of a practiced hand. Like a perfect harmony, which would have been incomplete, had a single note been missed.

Fatty at her Haldi Ceremony

Sourabh "the main man" Verma

The whole marriage sunk in its totality when I bid farewell, the last hug, the last look exchanged across the crowded room of well-wishers. And somehow you know that this is a moment you will oft re-visit. There is a tinge of pain, a point of letting go inside the head in a vague way, which makes one question the fundamentals of ownership anyway. And then a sense of calm taking shape in what is to come.

I wanted earlier to chronicle this on a daily basis of my visit to Mumbai, but all that is swept aside in the wee hours (0404 hrs) of 17th March, 2006. I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder what to think of to put myself back to sleep, nothing is forthcoming, and my mind really draws a blank. So I sit here on the 27th floor and look on as the day dawns slowly. Its another new day and Fatty is a married woman.

The wedded couple

Now as i sit here and key this in, it seems like being engulfed in a lot of silence. I miss the people around, all the family, the friends, some people i grew up with and some i just met, the familiarity all blending into one. I miss being with all the people like i've seldom missed home.

A piece of sky...

2006-03-07T11:44:00.000+05:30

Much as i'd like to believe otherwise , there are moments where i do feel inadequate being alone. Times deeper than the immediacy of chasing a creepy-crawly, riding alone at night or those thundering rainy nights with no electricity.

In conversation with Kunal last night on similar lines, he asked in his familiar drawl "what do you want boss?" and i replied without hesitation "A piece of the sky!", i guess he was bewildered or perhaps thought he hadn't heard right. At that instant i did not have the energy to explain. I mulled over it, recognising the impact of the same even as the night wore on.

It's that elusive quality one lends to happiness, that all consuming feeling to own it while being unable to recognize its omnipresent nature. Its the recognition that life is here and now and yet we set milestones for the all elusive time for ourselves. Its the little joys we fail to recognise while waiting for that one big moment of happiness.

its my little piece of sky from the window or above me always there, not to be owned but just to be cherised for the here and now...

(if only i practice half of what i preach...)

Roadtrip: B'lore - Kanchipuram

2006-03-06T11:05:00.000+05:30

Rakesh Menon, was the subject of conversation when i first noticed the way the sky looked. Navreet (pic on left) raved on, about what a fantastic guy he is and all the supporting statements that come forth for a well liked ex-colleague, while we sped towards Kanchipuram at 120 kmph in the wee hours of the morning. Its a cloudy day and the sun peeks through in places, spreading an amber glow. We stop for tea as the day dawns, in a small shack of a place, referred to as "tapri" in the college days. Next stop is an open field and we hop across the field to wash out faces courtesy an irrigation pump and sigh at the ramrod straight tamarind trees which makes climbing impossible.

We reach Kachipuram in about four and a half hours, via Kolar - Ranipetta - Chittor. Its a quaint little overcrowded town known as the birthplace of the famous Kachivaram silks. But our motivations lie elsewhere, an astrologer of sorts called "Nadi Jyotish" [Nadi in tamil means "destined" and Jyotish is for astrology], seemingly a sage Agathiyar had predicted the destiny of all individuals and written them down in leafs (pic on left). These bramhins presently do the job of disbursing your destiny to you (translating actually).

We went through the motions and wasn't quite convinced, but then the experience was different and propelled thoughts of the cosmos and if there truly was any science behind astrology [or with due apologies to Mr. Adams, pondering on 42, the answer to life, universe and everything!!]. Anyhow, the place held only curiosity value for us, and it did not turn us into believers. Faithless, i say, maybe thats what i am. The more wothwhile things were the food and the return trip back [not without a saree].

Its the way the sky looked...stuff that dreams are made of. The undulating hills, the green and yellow fields, the coconut and palm groves and the sky, with clouds scattered as if scared of the flaming sun. If i was a proverbial cowboy, this is a sunset i'd like to ride into.

The road less travelled!

Misplaced passions...

2006-02-23T12:44:00.000+05:30

Among all the things that i'd like to believe i am which is also briefly mentioned here, i wonder how much of it i truly have the courage to live through.

There is one thing to live life, going about the regular job, making a huge deal about proposals not made on time, deadlines not met, scheduled expectations not managed and the entire works. And its quite another thing to look upto yourself, with a certain amount of awe because you truly believe that there lies within you, things that you are capable of doing which truly add value to you as a person, which enriches life in aspects that touch deeper than the comfort of a plush home or the luxury car.

It struck me last night, when after a 13 hour day at work, it struck me as odd, when an old familiar tune played on the record and i left dinner to dance, to just turn off the lights and dance ....in the dark. Its a rapturous feeling, things that come close or move me enough is waking up in the wilderness and watch the sun-rise while shivering from the cold, or running in the rain soaked to the bone. Reading a friends blog here is something that further fueled the thoughts, Ashes and Snow, the works of Gregory Colbert. Its odd, because i have witnessed that odd spark in me, the nonchalance to renounce, and yet i carry on a life without passions. This is perhaps the first step towards a life less ordinary...acknowledgement.

Random Shots...

2006-02-13T09:59:00.000+05:30

I chatter, chatter, as I flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,*

Smoke on the water!

A full-orbed moon,
that like thine own soul soaring,
Sought a precipitate pathway up through heaven,
There fell a silvery silken veil of light,
With quietude, and sultriness and slumber*

*poems courtesy Alfred Lord Tennyson & Edgar Allan Poe

Donigal - Yedukumari - A Joy-hike

2006-02-13T08:34:00.000+05:30

THE HIKE:

I have never seen the sky so star spangled, so brightly lit that the identifying constellation is no longer enticing. Its just the way it looks - a gazillion stars strewn about in the dark vast expanse of sky made brighter by the lack of light around me. This was in Donigal (about 230 kms from Bangalore, India), an obscure place with little to boast of except for being nestled in the Western Ghats. This is where we begun our hike along an abandoned railway track to Yedukumari, 20 kms away. As dawn gave way to a bright and sunny day, being on the rain shadow area of the hill helped create a pleasant clime to hike in. The rail track meanders along the hill side, giving a splendid view of the valley.

A view of the Valley

Slowly the kilometers melted away amidst groans triggered by heavy backpacks and wisecracks by the group around. One had to stop to take in the scenery around, since you had to be walking on the sleepers on the rail track and a certain degree of concentration was required. This was amplified when we were in a tunnel or crossing bridges.

The tunnels were aplenty as were the bridges – some short, some as long as 572mts long dating back to 1972. Dark, Musty, dripping with water combined with bat calls this was stuff horror movies are made of. In some sense I am glad it was pitch dark, am sure there must have been things I wouldn’t want to see, but maybe not, either ways it sure was intriguing. Just once we navigated through a tunnel, without a flashlight, just to feel the dark.

BRIDGES ACROSS TIME:

The bridges along the hike deserve special mention. The parts where the track was relatively new, the bridges comprised of steel sleepers supporting the rails at a distance of two feet each. Some of these even had metal sheets laid down in order to facilitate comfortable walking. The other parts consisting of the larger bridges were constructed out of blocks of wood serving as sleepers, creaky and dilapidated with age. For most part they seemed sturdy but here and there the planks had given way or was dented from wear and tear.

There were bridges about a 100ft high, with gurgling streams flowing beneath with gusto. We went down to one such rivulet to have a quick dip and break for lunch.

What struck as an odd thought was being caught in the middle of a bridge and having to face an oncoming train, with no room to step aside. It did in fact happen when a mail train caught us unawares in a tunnel. Talking of trains, another incredulous thing I witnessed here was that the engine used to carry rail workers was actually a SUV mounted on rail wheels.

The bridge across forever

THE LONG ROAD HOME:

Eventually we reached Yedukumari just as evening was melting into dusk. The sense of achievement pouring in upon reaching Yedukumari soon melted away as we realized that another trek was due to reach the highway (some 4 kms away) in order to start the journey back home. The trek was largely downhill, interspersed with two rivulets. The trek was hastened with some rumors about a dam being opened onto one of the rivulets on the way. It was a narrow trail amidst the forests, having done already twenty-five kilometers that day; this trek was more a quest to get it done with. The trail was quaint with leaves strewn about in abundance in the autumn hues, heralding the oncoming green season.

The adventures started upon reaching the road. Following several futile attempts at hitchhiking on a bus, we finally managed to board a truck. Few kilometers ahead the speeding truck hit another one and pretty much proceeded on as if this was a daily occurrence. The driver seemed unperturbed; it was only some of us who started discussions on praying J. We were dropped off courteously at a place called Maranhally for the next round of hitch hiking. This time round, we managed to do even better, hitchhike at the back of a truck along with cattle. This was fantastic! The full moon had just begun shining bright over the tall palms and coconut trees. The wind was in the face and the highway a clean drive. Following another short trip, we reached Sakleshpur and caught a bus for Bangalore.

Hitch-hiking with Cattle

The post will not be complete till I mention all the wonderful people I was with (Anand, Bipin, Chander, Goli, Pattu, Shalu & Yashpal) and also met on the way, people who helped us make the hike without any detours. Most of the local folks are a friendly lot, smiling and ever advising. Though we did not quite understand the local language however the messages came across clear. What struck me was, as we were waiting in Maranahally, an old lady came up and made acquaintance with Shalu and me. She conversed in her broken English (much to my surprise) and even bought us candy. I was truly touched!

The lot of us!

Blocked!

2006-02-06T18:20:00.000+05:30

Am feeling all blocked up right now, its enough to contend with a writers block with the blog and even a creative block at work, to top it even my nose is blocked! In fact sometimes I have this distinctive “Calvin” like feeling that my brains are being dispensed when I sneeze. But that’s another story let me not get started on that stuff.

Am blocked up with friends and unable to reach out and say what I want to. If I do end up reaching out I can’t ever set out to say anything. I wonder if its truly fear of ridicule or whatever crazy notion it is or just the sheer hopelessness of it all. The sheer feeling of giving up and not believing in what I want enough to actually put an effort.

I’ve wanted to write in for a while and for most part I didn’t find things worth really writing about. Even now as I key in I don’t know if this will see the light of the World Wide Web, but I sure hope it makes me feel better after I have said what I have to. Nothing has been happening cause perhaps; I am not allowing anything to happen.

Here is my first step at self-help – acknowledgement and acceptance in no uncertain terms.

Small drops make the ocean...

2006-01-02T17:05:00.000+05:30

The year-end celebration at work saw my debut on the guitar. I sang Richard Marx's "Right here waiting" , dedicated largely to the spouse's of all the employees who for most part actually do that!

Althought it wasn't a landslide glory situation, this is where i begin, this is where i shed the inhibitions and insecurities of being terrible with the guitar. Like all other lessons in life, its all about confidence and one carries the facade so long as the confidence is there to shroud the insecurities.

The special moment was when Ram, proposed to sing Roberta Flack's "Killing me softly" and proposed i accompany him on the Guitar, a tremendous confidence booster. Was awesome sharing the stage with him. That proved beyond doubt the confidence of at least one man to partake in what i saw as a tremendously shaky proposition. To many more such moments where-in i hope to return and talk only of the glories without clouding them with the largely prevailing doubts :). In toast to all the Ram's of this world...

Tags: [Music]

And the christmas cake...

2005-12-26T15:09:00.000+05:30

In case you are wondering about the wierd icing,
that happens to be the Tejas logo :)
Golliwog, you have been a long standing inspiration for my baking escapades

X'mas at Tejas

2005-12-21T20:28:00.000+05:30

The Christmas tree at office which i helped decorate :)... Highpoint of the day!!!

Looking for romance...

2005-12-19T19:28:00.000+05:30

Wasn't quite looking for romance when i decided to take up moonlight cycling organised by BSA along with 7 other friends. More so ever when it started drizzling on the way out of Bangalore.

The trail near Savandurga till Manchinbele dam hits you when you land, there is the romance of a clear starry night meandering in the forests and passing by the lake. The wind howls in your ear as you let go on the slopes and let the cycle roll. There's music all around sounds of the jungle, hearing yourself breathe and feel the air fill up the lungs.

Its a dissapointingly short trail of 8 kms,perhaps meant to be done slowly with a loved one. I raced instead, with a glimmer of a hope to get lost without perhaps having the courage to.

(From Left Chander, Vikas, Prateek & Parul getting set to start playing
cards in the middle of the night...so much for romance)

Its beautiful and yes very romantic.