"...as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, details of the room within emerged slowly from the mist, strange animals, statues, and gold - everywhere the glint of gold. For the moment - an eternity it must have seemed to the others standing by - I was struck dumb with amazement".
These were the words of Howard Carter, when he discovered the tomb of the boy prince Tutankhamen. One wonders what he would have said if he had entered one of the vaults that I'm writing about.
Close to the southern tip of India, lies thiruvananthapuram, home to the padmanabhaswamy temple, pretty famous among the Mallu folk as we like to call them.
But, in the last month or so, its been among the topics which have enhanced viewership of channels such as BBC, CNN etc.
One lakh crore. That's the figure. One lakh crore rupees or 25 billion dollars. That is the worth of all the gold, silver and precious stones found when two vaults beneath the temple were opened recently.
I had the opportunity to visit the temple a few weeks back. This post is a recollection of memories that linked themselves up as I walked through the courtyard of the temple.
I was born in trivandrum, and my grandparents still live there. Year after year, for summer vacations, I used to be packed off there for my parents wanted peace of mind for a few days at least.
My great grandmom who passed away recently was a storehouse of tales about ancient times. My great granddad worked in the royal court of travancore. He had mentioned to her a number of times, about the riches that lay buried beneath the monazite sands of the temple.
So, it was no secret. Yet, it remained shut to the world.
As I turned into the street leading into the temple, I passed a structure which looked extremely familiar. The still functional chinese clock from the 16th century. The chinese man on the clock overlooks the temple pond on the opposite side of the street. However, the pond was only a recent addition. Years ago, there stood a well, as deep as an abyss.
Vaguely, I remembered a tale narrated to me in my younger days. Travancore was in the midst of an onslaught. On the brink of defeat, and with the thought of his riches being carried away, the king hurled down half his kingdom's wealth into the well. sealed it with an offering to the deity, and built a pond over it.
Myth or reality, is something that has not been investigated till today. Rumor goes that the pond floor has been searched, but the seal has been camouflaged so well, that it hasn't been discovered yet. Another tale that went around for a while was that the chinese man's stare from the clock, is in line of sight on the seal 4 times every year.
As I went around the temple, each one of the 400 odd intricately carved pillars on both sides of the temple stood with a maiden emerging out of them with a lamp pressed on her bosom. These lamps are lit faithfully every year, with the patronage of the royal family. Testimony to the riches of travancore dynasty. My great grandmom used to repeatedly mention about the free food served to the people of the empire every single day!!
The kings of travancore for centuries had been financing free food on the courtyards of the temple from 8 in the morning to 5 in the evening. A meal for every single person irrespective of his caste. Not an elementary meal with just the essentials, but a sumptuous one with delicacies of every kind. People would eat before they began work and after they finished. Dinner was unnecessary after that. The expenses for all this would be borne by the kings coffers. Such was philanthropy of travancore, a little known kingdom in south India.
In my younger days, the deity was black as soot, and tube lights blazed to illuminate the sanctum. But a few years back, one mid April afternoon, one of the priests of the temple exerted a little more force while cleaning the idol. For a moment he thought his eyes deceived him when he saw the tip of the lord's toe change from pitch black to the glitter of gold. In the next two hours, the idol was returned to how it had been for centuries. Spread over 3 chambers, each leading into the other. The head and chest in chamber one, navel in chamber two and the legs in chamber 3. The 15 foot long idol was covered in gold and illuminated in the natural light of oil lamps. The glitter of diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and opals were unmistakable. And that is how it is today.
The characteristic white sands led me to the sanctum of krishna, beneath which are the vaults holding the immense riches recently discovered. A bigger vault bearing the sign of the serpent still remains unopened, for it has been sealed so well, that the most modern of equipment fail to open it without damage.
My great granddad's words of multiple vaults, each leading into another forming a maze beneath the temple became a vivid picture as I walked on. He never joked about these things. If two vaults contain riches of over a lakh crore, its impossible to imagine what the vault of mazes contain.
As I exited the temple, the last one hour had made me realized the magnanimity of the kings of the Travancore dynasty. They had riches beyond imagination, and yet were uncorrupted by greed or power. Two aspects of the human mind which are difficult to control. When today's politicians fight to drain every penny from the public into their own pockets, the selflessness and non attachment of the kings is unfathomable.
A heated debate is on the cards as to what happens to these treasures. One section of the society favors with its use for social development while another is in favor of preserving it as a national heritage. In my opinion, if the treasure is used for national development, then the stashed treasures of every temple, mosque, church and synagogue in the country have to be used for the same purpose for fairness sake.
Perhaps, the rulers of travancore have already shown us the way. For they have surrendered everything they own, not caring about how many zeros follow the one. For them, one thing was above all, faith in him.
शान्ताकारं भुजगशयनं पद्मनाभं सुरेशं
विश्वाधारं गगनसदृशं मेघवर्ण शुभाङ्गम् ।
लक्ष्मीकान्तं कमलनयनं योगिभिर्ध्यानगम्यम्
वन्दे विष्णुं भवभयहरं सर्वलोकैकनाथम् ॥
To him who has a serene appearance, who rests on a serpent who has a lotus on his navel and who is the lord of the devas,
who sustains the universe, who is boundless and infinite like the sky, whose colour is like the cloud and who has a beautiful and auspicious body,
To him who is the husband of lakshmi, whose eyes are like lotus and who is attainable to the yogis by meditation,
Salutations to that vishnu who removes the fear of worldly existence and who is the lord of all the worlds.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Where the mind is without fear...
This has to be my favorite poem of all times. Dedicated to India's 64th Independence day.
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
Rabindranath Tagore
(Thanks Mohana T Rajan for the idea)
(Thanks Mohana T Rajan for the idea)
Monday, August 8, 2011
One night atop the water tank
Again, one of those posts where names must not be taken, since the people involved may get into trouble :P. That means,I'll have to resort to nicknames.
It was my final semester at BITS. The countdown to leaving what had been (and in my head still is) the best place I'd lived at had begun. Even, the most loquacious BITSian would fall short of words to describe the breeze that made everyone stop on a hot mid spring day. The sparkle of the waters of river Zuari from every balcony high enough, the dew on central lawns early in the morning, the scamper of students through the majestic dome rushing late to labs and always walking away from lectures, and the blaze of lights in the hostels all night long. The eccentric sounds from the tennis courts where every substance known to man was tried, slowly melted away into the silence of the night.
One such night, at 11 the generators which power the campus failed. Usually, the main building was backed up. However, that night the back ups too were unusually dysfunctional.
In the blink of an eye, the 188 acre campus was pitch dark. We were flanked by a river on two sides, a highway on another and a wasteland with a deserted lake on the fourth. It must have been dark for miles that night.
I opened the door of my room on the top floor and walked out on the corridor. Flashlights, whistles, and abuse ranged from end to end of the hostel. Power cuts bought out the best banter in hostels. Words flowered in every possible language, Hindi, Telgu, Tamil and the like. A few cigarettes were lit in rebellion. The multilingual cacophony ultimately ended in a roar of laughter.
Preparations for kamu's tea party(party which had nothing to do with tea, but was rather more centered on jadi booti) were underway.
That was when Tigu called me. Zippy and Bee were with him outside the library. The four of us had been regularly hanging out recently. Today was to be no different. Or so I thought.
I walked out of the hostel to the lawns in front of the library. Sights of frisbees being thrown around, soccer being played and people just strolling around were common during power cuts.
I reached the library lawns to see these three having a heated discussion about whether the ants which were moving about haphazardly were drunk or not :|, which Zippy eventually won and then the discussion turned to how the ants got drunk.
Either way, that kinda stuff happened regularly, so I let it pass. Amidst all the whimsical talk, we hardly noticed the clock ticking by and before we knew it, it was 12 25. The girls had a curfew of 12 30 and had to head back to hostel. The lights were still out and fireflies were hustling in numbers.
As we watched the other girls heading back, Bee excitedly said to Zippy. "Stay out tonight. We'll never get an opportunity like this." At first Tigu and myself thought they were kidding, but within seconds, the tone grew increasingly serious and their voices even more hushed.
Almost in unison, we face-palmed. We knew what was in store for us. Zippy and Bee were not the kind who listened, and if they wanted to stay out, they would stay out.
Just a few days ago, Tigu and I had been part of a search party hunting down another of our female friend who'd decided to camp out at night. We'd returned unsuccessfully at 3 30 in the morning, with every worrying possibility in our heads which settled only after she texted at 6 in the morning.
But Zippy and Bee were two headstrong girls and wouldn't take no for an answer. It was futile trying to convince them otherwise. They'd listed out every possible safe-hold where they could camp out for the night, where campus security would not frequent. That left two options. One of them was the power station on the river bank. But with the blackout, that's where all the repair folk would show up.
"Tanki" said Bee.
The Tanki or the water tank was a humongous structure on probably the most undeveloped part of campus. It was a tower which rose 50 ft in the air with a capacity of about 100,000 litres.
We started walking. It was 12 30. As we passed the girls hostel, it was 12 35. The matron was still shutting the door waving her flashlight around to sight any more girls walking in and to keep out any boisterous guy trying his luck out on night as dark as that.
As we passed it, I told Zippy, "You can still make it back, if you go now". Those two dint even flinch, and walked straight on. The gates were shut. There was no turning back now.
A little into 12 40, campus security started their first patrol . We were still quite a distance away from the tank. Zippy and Bee walked in front, with me about 10 metres behind and Tigu making the rear about 10m behind me.
A security guard passed me on his bike. Holding out his flashlight. I smiled at him, although if he had turned his head, he would have see those two. I made casual talk with him about the power cut and the darkness, trying to buy those two some time to get ahead. The turn leading to the tank was in sight.
But going by foot is no match for a bike, and within seconds, his flashlight was on them from behind. "Whatever you do, dont turn around", I prayed in my head.
The flashlight turned off and the bike moved away in front and out of sight. Zippy had the hood of her sweatshirt on her head and Bee had her tied hair tucked away inside her collar. That was probably what saved their asses.
It had been raining unusually in October. The walk to the tank was through some marshy land. With only flip flops on, we risked getting bitten by the slushy creatures that ventured out of hiding to embrace the blackness around.
At 12 45, we made it to the base of the tank. Now the climb began. We were wondering if people were already on top, since it was common of people to smoke up on top of the water tank. That night was perfect.
But we found the tank empty. The four of us were the only ones there. By 1 we'd put our phones on silent and found a good back resting place for the night. We listed down every friend who'd possibly come looking for Zippy/Bee and were assured that there were none who'd bother to give a second thought. It would be assumed that they were in someone else's room.
Zippy told us that we could go back and they would manage the night. Tigu had an exam the next day and he hadnt studied jack. So he left to study promising that he'd be back with sweaters and blankets at three.
I stayed, because the place was frequented by workers all the time, and leaving them out there during the night wouldn't have been right.
The clock ticked on. 2 15 now. Sleep was taking over. The eyelids were drooping.
And then footsteps. We heard footsteps moving towards the tank. And then the unmistakable clatter of feet climbing up the ladder. Bee woke up startled. I motioned to her to keep silent. Breathing got slower. Was it Tigu who'd come earlier than promised?? Couldn't be. He was supposed to text all three of us before he left. Time seemed to slow down indefinitely. We waited with bated breath to be discovered.
The consequences of getting caught ran through my mind. We would be paraded in front of the chief warden Asuraswamy. He was as tough as it got. A semester cancelled perhaps, in my final semester. I'd have to stay back another 6 months. All the prospects of going abroad would melt. And the least significant of all, a blemished disciplinary record that I wouldn't care about.
As for Zippy and Bee, they'd be punished too. In what form I did not know. The local newsletter would have its contents for next months issue. Guy found atop water tank with two girls at night. Taking it in its meaning word by word would mean I would be innocent. I was allowed to stay out at night anywhere within campus.
But the human mind does not know innocence. Every contorted angle would be imagined. And those very contorted notions would mean curtains for me in front of the disciplinary committee.
Blocking these thoughts out, I waited for what seemed like eons for a head to pop out of the opening. None came. Maybe the sleepy mind was conjuring imaginations with us. Maybe the wind blew a few stones which rattled the ladder. Either way, we were still unknown to everyone except Tigu.
The only lights we saw were the blaring headlights of cars and trucks tearing along the well laid highway. At 2 30, the folks at the power station managed to get things going. It was as though a new planet came to life. A million blinks and a roar from most hostels indicating that we were indeed a nocturnal breed.
Tigu came back at 3 as promised with blankets, sweater and some munchies. We were famished, and the food disappeared in no time. He left within a while, having still done nothing for the last three hours.
At about 4 30, an enormous flashlight was turned on right above us. We looked up to see the headlight of a Boeing 747 of Air France. Bee in her sleep said "Yaar, light band karo "(Dude, turn off the lights). Zippy and me had a hearty laugh for the first time that night.
The airport was close by and the international arrivals were coming in. British Airways, Turkish Airlines and 3 flights of Аэрофлот (Aeroflot) went above us.
It was 6 30 in the morning and the first light greeted the early morning joggers. From the water tank, a panoramic view of the campus all the way to the river was splendid. The skies slowly changed from dark purple to a more distinct blue and slowly with the sun emerging, it turned amber.
The lake glistened in the distance and it was time to just sit back and watch nature paint its picture.
At 7, we climbed down, only to run into a worker, who sort of over stepped his authority by demanding for my ID. However, after a bit of cajoling he was convinced that we were there only for the last 1 hour to click pics of the sunrise.
We went straight to the mess, where a groggy eyed Tigu met us. He'd had a night out alright. After packing aloo parathas and a hot beverage, I went straight back. A crowbar wouldn't have kept my eyelids open that night.
As I unlocked my room, my neighbour on his way to morning classes asked me "Where were you all night?" . I gave him a blank stare, trying to think of what to say. Couldn't think of the words. I just smiled an went in. He hurried along, without any more inquisitions. I hit the sack and allowed sleep to carry me away.
Thus passed one night atop the water tank.
It was my final semester at BITS. The countdown to leaving what had been (and in my head still is) the best place I'd lived at had begun. Even, the most loquacious BITSian would fall short of words to describe the breeze that made everyone stop on a hot mid spring day. The sparkle of the waters of river Zuari from every balcony high enough, the dew on central lawns early in the morning, the scamper of students through the majestic dome rushing late to labs and always walking away from lectures, and the blaze of lights in the hostels all night long. The eccentric sounds from the tennis courts where every substance known to man was tried, slowly melted away into the silence of the night.
One such night, at 11 the generators which power the campus failed. Usually, the main building was backed up. However, that night the back ups too were unusually dysfunctional.
In the blink of an eye, the 188 acre campus was pitch dark. We were flanked by a river on two sides, a highway on another and a wasteland with a deserted lake on the fourth. It must have been dark for miles that night.
I opened the door of my room on the top floor and walked out on the corridor. Flashlights, whistles, and abuse ranged from end to end of the hostel. Power cuts bought out the best banter in hostels. Words flowered in every possible language, Hindi, Telgu, Tamil and the like. A few cigarettes were lit in rebellion. The multilingual cacophony ultimately ended in a roar of laughter.
Preparations for kamu's tea party(party which had nothing to do with tea, but was rather more centered on jadi booti) were underway.
That was when Tigu called me. Zippy and Bee were with him outside the library. The four of us had been regularly hanging out recently. Today was to be no different. Or so I thought.
I walked out of the hostel to the lawns in front of the library. Sights of frisbees being thrown around, soccer being played and people just strolling around were common during power cuts.
I reached the library lawns to see these three having a heated discussion about whether the ants which were moving about haphazardly were drunk or not :|, which Zippy eventually won and then the discussion turned to how the ants got drunk.
Either way, that kinda stuff happened regularly, so I let it pass. Amidst all the whimsical talk, we hardly noticed the clock ticking by and before we knew it, it was 12 25. The girls had a curfew of 12 30 and had to head back to hostel. The lights were still out and fireflies were hustling in numbers.
As we watched the other girls heading back, Bee excitedly said to Zippy. "Stay out tonight. We'll never get an opportunity like this." At first Tigu and myself thought they were kidding, but within seconds, the tone grew increasingly serious and their voices even more hushed.
Almost in unison, we face-palmed. We knew what was in store for us. Zippy and Bee were not the kind who listened, and if they wanted to stay out, they would stay out.
Just a few days ago, Tigu and I had been part of a search party hunting down another of our female friend who'd decided to camp out at night. We'd returned unsuccessfully at 3 30 in the morning, with every worrying possibility in our heads which settled only after she texted at 6 in the morning.
But Zippy and Bee were two headstrong girls and wouldn't take no for an answer. It was futile trying to convince them otherwise. They'd listed out every possible safe-hold where they could camp out for the night, where campus security would not frequent. That left two options. One of them was the power station on the river bank. But with the blackout, that's where all the repair folk would show up.
"Tanki" said Bee.
The Tanki or the water tank was a humongous structure on probably the most undeveloped part of campus. It was a tower which rose 50 ft in the air with a capacity of about 100,000 litres.
We started walking. It was 12 30. As we passed the girls hostel, it was 12 35. The matron was still shutting the door waving her flashlight around to sight any more girls walking in and to keep out any boisterous guy trying his luck out on night as dark as that.
As we passed it, I told Zippy, "You can still make it back, if you go now". Those two dint even flinch, and walked straight on. The gates were shut. There was no turning back now.
A little into 12 40, campus security started their first patrol . We were still quite a distance away from the tank. Zippy and Bee walked in front, with me about 10 metres behind and Tigu making the rear about 10m behind me.
A security guard passed me on his bike. Holding out his flashlight. I smiled at him, although if he had turned his head, he would have see those two. I made casual talk with him about the power cut and the darkness, trying to buy those two some time to get ahead. The turn leading to the tank was in sight.
But going by foot is no match for a bike, and within seconds, his flashlight was on them from behind. "Whatever you do, dont turn around", I prayed in my head.
The flashlight turned off and the bike moved away in front and out of sight. Zippy had the hood of her sweatshirt on her head and Bee had her tied hair tucked away inside her collar. That was probably what saved their asses.
It had been raining unusually in October. The walk to the tank was through some marshy land. With only flip flops on, we risked getting bitten by the slushy creatures that ventured out of hiding to embrace the blackness around.
At 12 45, we made it to the base of the tank. Now the climb began. We were wondering if people were already on top, since it was common of people to smoke up on top of the water tank. That night was perfect.
But we found the tank empty. The four of us were the only ones there. By 1 we'd put our phones on silent and found a good back resting place for the night. We listed down every friend who'd possibly come looking for Zippy/Bee and were assured that there were none who'd bother to give a second thought. It would be assumed that they were in someone else's room.
Zippy told us that we could go back and they would manage the night. Tigu had an exam the next day and he hadnt studied jack. So he left to study promising that he'd be back with sweaters and blankets at three.
I stayed, because the place was frequented by workers all the time, and leaving them out there during the night wouldn't have been right.
The clock ticked on. 2 15 now. Sleep was taking over. The eyelids were drooping.
And then footsteps. We heard footsteps moving towards the tank. And then the unmistakable clatter of feet climbing up the ladder. Bee woke up startled. I motioned to her to keep silent. Breathing got slower. Was it Tigu who'd come earlier than promised?? Couldn't be. He was supposed to text all three of us before he left. Time seemed to slow down indefinitely. We waited with bated breath to be discovered.
The consequences of getting caught ran through my mind. We would be paraded in front of the chief warden Asuraswamy. He was as tough as it got. A semester cancelled perhaps, in my final semester. I'd have to stay back another 6 months. All the prospects of going abroad would melt. And the least significant of all, a blemished disciplinary record that I wouldn't care about.
As for Zippy and Bee, they'd be punished too. In what form I did not know. The local newsletter would have its contents for next months issue. Guy found atop water tank with two girls at night. Taking it in its meaning word by word would mean I would be innocent. I was allowed to stay out at night anywhere within campus.
But the human mind does not know innocence. Every contorted angle would be imagined. And those very contorted notions would mean curtains for me in front of the disciplinary committee.
Blocking these thoughts out, I waited for what seemed like eons for a head to pop out of the opening. None came. Maybe the sleepy mind was conjuring imaginations with us. Maybe the wind blew a few stones which rattled the ladder. Either way, we were still unknown to everyone except Tigu.
The only lights we saw were the blaring headlights of cars and trucks tearing along the well laid highway. At 2 30, the folks at the power station managed to get things going. It was as though a new planet came to life. A million blinks and a roar from most hostels indicating that we were indeed a nocturnal breed.
Tigu came back at 3 as promised with blankets, sweater and some munchies. We were famished, and the food disappeared in no time. He left within a while, having still done nothing for the last three hours.
At about 4 30, an enormous flashlight was turned on right above us. We looked up to see the headlight of a Boeing 747 of Air France. Bee in her sleep said "Yaar, light band karo "(Dude, turn off the lights). Zippy and me had a hearty laugh for the first time that night.
The airport was close by and the international arrivals were coming in. British Airways, Turkish Airlines and 3 flights of Аэрофлот (Aeroflot) went above us.
It was 6 30 in the morning and the first light greeted the early morning joggers. From the water tank, a panoramic view of the campus all the way to the river was splendid. The skies slowly changed from dark purple to a more distinct blue and slowly with the sun emerging, it turned amber.
The lake glistened in the distance and it was time to just sit back and watch nature paint its picture.
At 7, we climbed down, only to run into a worker, who sort of over stepped his authority by demanding for my ID. However, after a bit of cajoling he was convinced that we were there only for the last 1 hour to click pics of the sunrise.
We went straight to the mess, where a groggy eyed Tigu met us. He'd had a night out alright. After packing aloo parathas and a hot beverage, I went straight back. A crowbar wouldn't have kept my eyelids open that night.
As I unlocked my room, my neighbour on his way to morning classes asked me "Where were you all night?" . I gave him a blank stare, trying to think of what to say. Couldn't think of the words. I just smiled an went in. He hurried along, without any more inquisitions. I hit the sack and allowed sleep to carry me away.
Thus passed one night atop the water tank.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
A tryst with nature...
To begin, if you need the context of this post, you're going to have to read the previous one.
So, we'd just gotten off at Manali, in splendid weather. The sun was out and a gentle breeze greeted us as we alighted from the trax, paid our driver and cursorily hoped that he'd got some sleep before he ever set foot on that brake pedal ever again.
Now, we dint have the slightest idea of where we were going to stay for the next couple of days. So room hunting was the next item of action.
The tourist season was about a month away, so we found a reasonable room for 700 bucks a night. Since we were 7, we split into two groups. It was lunchtime so Chinmay, Sallu and myself went hunting for food, while Pulkit Malpani and the rest negotiating our room rent.
The three of us, walked into a medium sized restaurant and gorged on some amazing Butter Rotis and Dal Tadka.
When we got back to our hotel, these smart alecs had put all of us into one room. 7 of us in a single room!!. Of course, it worked out really economically, and at that point we were pretty happy after maybe a mouthful of abuse from me.
After a shower, we just got out and walked. Again, being economical meant that we couldn't really hire a car everyday so we walked.
After a while, the road split. One leading down to the river Beas below, and the other into the pine forests.
Up we went and at half past 5 in the evening, the dirt path narrowed down like the tail of a serpent getting smaller and smaller with each step we took. The skies turned to the color of velvet purple from the ashen shade it bore when we started off.
After an hour into the forest, the dirt track changed from brown to wild green and merged into thorny scrubs as the skies darkened further. That was our cue to turn back.
That trek should have been my favorite till date but something unexpected happened.
It was only then that we realized that sallu was gone. He'd been gone for a long time but we just realized.
We were pretty much the only humans in the forest, and we hurried back as fast as our feet carried us downhill. Someone remarked that he might have been carried away by a bear or a leopard.
Either way, after 20 odd minutes he called. Turned out he took the road going down into the river, and we were too deep in the forest so phones were unreachable.
The good thing about his endeavor was the fact that he ran into a place where we could river rappel.
For 50 bucks, it was an enthralling experience. You rappel from one bank of the Beas to the other, with the white waters of the river in all its turbulence beneath you.
Midway through the return, the rope is oscillated up and down until you're completely drenched in the river, and its icy cold water bites into your skin.
The next morning we walked again, but this time with more purpose. The destination being a hot sulphur spring with apparently healing properties. The climb was far more gentle than the previous day's and the weather turned out great.
Along the way, the scenes were those taken out of a postcard, with mountains, forests and rivers.
We reached the spring by mid-day and after a dip, we returned. After speaking to the locals, we heard that Rohtang pass at 15000 ft above sea level was in great weather, and having come this far we shouldn't miss out. So we decided to go.
That afternoon, we managed to find a Nescafe. Kasli, Pulkit and myself were sitting around having coffee and talking about the trip to be. That was when 4 asian girls showed up and occupied the table next to ours. We dint have a clue as to what they were saying, but there were definitely some glances which turned into stares between those two tables.
Somehow, the conversation steered from what route we were going to take, and moved to inviting the 4 asian girls along. The blame for that lies squarely on Pulkit again.
We'd booked a jeep which seated 7, and we were seven already. Now, the idea of inviting the four asian girls seemed absurd because, well we dint have seats.
Now, we had a second thought and looked around. It was Pulkit, Kasli and myself and 4 asian girls and that was seven. And Kasli jumps out and says "unko lite lo, ham teen jaenge inke saath" (Ditch the other 4 guys, lets go with these girls).
Pulkit vehemently agreed, and I nodded along. Back then I was in a relationship, so I looked at the whole thing in jest. In my head, none of this was going to happen because, we hadn't even asked them yet.
Before I knew it, Pulkit and Kasli were arguing as to who should ask them. The argument grew in intensity, and neither of those dimwits were ready to walk up to their table and ask. Kasli had a sudden attack of diarrhea out of nowhere, and he bolted out of there looking for a toilet.
Before Pulkit could say anything, I went to the other table, asked one of those girls if they wanted to go to Rohtang with us. One of them told me that they'd been there the previous day, and the weather was great and asked us to have a good time.
So that was that. Except for Pulkit who kept asking how I did it. Those two make a big deal out of the whole thing even today, adding more spice into each retold version. But that was it plain and simple.
Anyway, some of us wanted to have a drink that night, and we went to a bar+restaurant. After a couple of drink, Kasli (remember he had diarrhea) was out. We walked out on to what was probably the busiest traffic junction at Manali. Right about when we were crossing the street, the light changed from red to green. Kasli, understandably was moving slower than us. A frustrated motorist made the mistake of honking. Kasli let rip " Bh******, Ga***, Ma ke l***, Mooth doonga tere gaadi pe" (#Abuse#, I'll pee on your car).
At the next honk, he was on the verge of removing his footwear and hurling it at the approaching traffic before we intervened. A good 40 seconds after the lights had changed, we managed to get him across.
At the other end, a small girl no more than 5 years old had the misfortune of running into Kasli. Kasli, by now frustrated that he couldnt abuse the motorists more, promptly popped the little girls balloon.
Heaven knows how quick we got him out of there before her parents showed up.
That night, we had a conundrum to solve about how 7 of us were going to squeeze into a queen bed. The answer was that we couldn't. We managed 4, and with some difficulty 5 where Pulkit and Malpani took turns getting kicked.
It was Chinmay and Sallu who offered to sleep on the floor, and remembering how cold that night was, hats off to them.
We dint really get much sleep that night, since we had to depart for Rohtang pass at 4 the next morning.
We hired a jeep and some snow clothes along the way. At 7, we stopped for breakfast at a dhaba 14000 ft above sea level.
At temperatures, dropping below zero and icy winds biting into our skins, the aloo parathas and tea tasted even better.
The ride into Rohtang was splendid. A picturesque view, with snow as far as the eye could see, clouds that you could lay hands on, yaks, skis and the sun glistening off the snow.
A 14 hour journey beyond Rohtang lies Leh, and 20 hours beyond that is Siachen glacier, a destination I hope to reach some day.
A day out in snow was insane and just about when our feet could freeze no more, we descended down to Manali, checked out and got on the next bus to Chandigarh, for a return journey not half as eventful as the onward.
So, we'd just gotten off at Manali, in splendid weather. The sun was out and a gentle breeze greeted us as we alighted from the trax, paid our driver and cursorily hoped that he'd got some sleep before he ever set foot on that brake pedal ever again.
Now, we dint have the slightest idea of where we were going to stay for the next couple of days. So room hunting was the next item of action.
The tourist season was about a month away, so we found a reasonable room for 700 bucks a night. Since we were 7, we split into two groups. It was lunchtime so Chinmay, Sallu and myself went hunting for food, while Pulkit Malpani and the rest negotiating our room rent.
The three of us, walked into a medium sized restaurant and gorged on some amazing Butter Rotis and Dal Tadka.
When we got back to our hotel, these smart alecs had put all of us into one room. 7 of us in a single room!!. Of course, it worked out really economically, and at that point we were pretty happy after maybe a mouthful of abuse from me.
After a shower, we just got out and walked. Again, being economical meant that we couldn't really hire a car everyday so we walked.
After a while, the road split. One leading down to the river Beas below, and the other into the pine forests.
Up we went and at half past 5 in the evening, the dirt path narrowed down like the tail of a serpent getting smaller and smaller with each step we took. The skies turned to the color of velvet purple from the ashen shade it bore when we started off.
After an hour into the forest, the dirt track changed from brown to wild green and merged into thorny scrubs as the skies darkened further. That was our cue to turn back.
That trek should have been my favorite till date but something unexpected happened.
It was only then that we realized that sallu was gone. He'd been gone for a long time but we just realized.
We were pretty much the only humans in the forest, and we hurried back as fast as our feet carried us downhill. Someone remarked that he might have been carried away by a bear or a leopard.
Either way, after 20 odd minutes he called. Turned out he took the road going down into the river, and we were too deep in the forest so phones were unreachable.
The good thing about his endeavor was the fact that he ran into a place where we could river rappel.
For 50 bucks, it was an enthralling experience. You rappel from one bank of the Beas to the other, with the white waters of the river in all its turbulence beneath you.
Midway through the return, the rope is oscillated up and down until you're completely drenched in the river, and its icy cold water bites into your skin.
The next morning we walked again, but this time with more purpose. The destination being a hot sulphur spring with apparently healing properties. The climb was far more gentle than the previous day's and the weather turned out great.
Along the way, the scenes were those taken out of a postcard, with mountains, forests and rivers.
We reached the spring by mid-day and after a dip, we returned. After speaking to the locals, we heard that Rohtang pass at 15000 ft above sea level was in great weather, and having come this far we shouldn't miss out. So we decided to go.
That afternoon, we managed to find a Nescafe. Kasli, Pulkit and myself were sitting around having coffee and talking about the trip to be. That was when 4 asian girls showed up and occupied the table next to ours. We dint have a clue as to what they were saying, but there were definitely some glances which turned into stares between those two tables.
Somehow, the conversation steered from what route we were going to take, and moved to inviting the 4 asian girls along. The blame for that lies squarely on Pulkit again.
We'd booked a jeep which seated 7, and we were seven already. Now, the idea of inviting the four asian girls seemed absurd because, well we dint have seats.
Now, we had a second thought and looked around. It was Pulkit, Kasli and myself and 4 asian girls and that was seven. And Kasli jumps out and says "unko lite lo, ham teen jaenge inke saath" (Ditch the other 4 guys, lets go with these girls).
Pulkit vehemently agreed, and I nodded along. Back then I was in a relationship, so I looked at the whole thing in jest. In my head, none of this was going to happen because, we hadn't even asked them yet.
Before I knew it, Pulkit and Kasli were arguing as to who should ask them. The argument grew in intensity, and neither of those dimwits were ready to walk up to their table and ask. Kasli had a sudden attack of diarrhea out of nowhere, and he bolted out of there looking for a toilet.
Before Pulkit could say anything, I went to the other table, asked one of those girls if they wanted to go to Rohtang with us. One of them told me that they'd been there the previous day, and the weather was great and asked us to have a good time.
So that was that. Except for Pulkit who kept asking how I did it. Those two make a big deal out of the whole thing even today, adding more spice into each retold version. But that was it plain and simple.
Anyway, some of us wanted to have a drink that night, and we went to a bar+restaurant. After a couple of drink, Kasli (remember he had diarrhea) was out. We walked out on to what was probably the busiest traffic junction at Manali. Right about when we were crossing the street, the light changed from red to green. Kasli, understandably was moving slower than us. A frustrated motorist made the mistake of honking. Kasli let rip " Bh******, Ga***, Ma ke l***, Mooth doonga tere gaadi pe" (#Abuse#, I'll pee on your car).
At the next honk, he was on the verge of removing his footwear and hurling it at the approaching traffic before we intervened. A good 40 seconds after the lights had changed, we managed to get him across.
At the other end, a small girl no more than 5 years old had the misfortune of running into Kasli. Kasli, by now frustrated that he couldnt abuse the motorists more, promptly popped the little girls balloon.
Heaven knows how quick we got him out of there before her parents showed up.
That night, we had a conundrum to solve about how 7 of us were going to squeeze into a queen bed. The answer was that we couldn't. We managed 4, and with some difficulty 5 where Pulkit and Malpani took turns getting kicked.
It was Chinmay and Sallu who offered to sleep on the floor, and remembering how cold that night was, hats off to them.
We dint really get much sleep that night, since we had to depart for Rohtang pass at 4 the next morning.
We hired a jeep and some snow clothes along the way. At 7, we stopped for breakfast at a dhaba 14000 ft above sea level.
At temperatures, dropping below zero and icy winds biting into our skins, the aloo parathas and tea tasted even better.
The ride into Rohtang was splendid. A picturesque view, with snow as far as the eye could see, clouds that you could lay hands on, yaks, skis and the sun glistening off the snow.
A 14 hour journey beyond Rohtang lies Leh, and 20 hours beyond that is Siachen glacier, a destination I hope to reach some day.
A day out in snow was insane and just about when our feet could freeze no more, we descended down to Manali, checked out and got on the next bus to Chandigarh, for a return journey not half as eventful as the onward.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
The trip of a lifetime
Hola,
There's something to it. Unplanned trips, with a miserly budget without a luxury hotel or a chauffeur driven vehicle to take you places.
Trips that take you places which seems to be thronged by everyone but you still have a story to write about 2 years down the line.
Thats right. This post is about one such unforgettable trip that happened 2 years back. Bunch of guys really bored with work decide to get out on a Friday evening.
We were interns at the Central Scientific Instruments Organization at Chandigarh for the summer of 2009. Not exactly a place where you get satisfying work but we were just done with the sophomore year and knew next to nothing.
A month an a half had passed and we were sick of checking out girls at Sector 17 and Sector 35 in Chandigarh. We needed something for an adrenaline rush.
After a flurry of suggestions, backouts and arguments, Manali was the chosen destination. Now the consensus was reached at 6 in the evening, and in an hour all of us were packed and on the road.
Now, the tiny problem that we had was that neither of us had the slightest clue about how we would be getting to Manali, where we would stay and how much it would cost us.
Nevertheless, after a bit of asking around and deciphering Punjabi answers, we found that there were two buses leaving Chandigarh to Manali one at 8 and 9.
With quite a bit of scampering, Chinmay losing his slippers and ignoring the very wise auto wala's advice of " Ek do khambe ke bina mat jao " (Don't go without booze)
we tantalizingly saw the bus at 8 moving away just as we reached the bus terminus.
That meant that we had an hour to kill before the next bus so butter roti and dal tadka were in order.
And so we were at the platform and the clock struck 9 30 and there were no signs of the bus. About 5 minutes later kasli comes panting in and says that the bus to manali is at another platform.
Pandemonium ensued and we found ourselves running at pace holding bags in one hand and our pants in the other to platform 5. Only then did we realize that the bus just arrived from Manali and would stay parked there for the night.
Meanwhile, a wisecrack from elsewhere just got off the phone and told us that the bus we'd been waiting for just showed up back at platform 7.
About 30 seconds of non-stop full blooded "Punjabi Gaali" (abuse) at Kasli ensued, before we held our bags and pants again only to sprint back to 7.
And presto, it was as empty as we had left it 2 mins back. No bus, no people, not even a mouse running around. The full blooded gaali was now aimed at thin air this time.
So we waited, for another hour, and another and there seemed no signs of the bus arriving. Rumors of the bus being halted at Pathankot were flying around and either way, the bottomline was that we dint have a bus to Manali that night.
Now, the simple thing would have been to turn back. But we were determined to get ourselves into shit that night.
So, after walking around a bit, we found a big burly Haryanvi chap who offered us to take us by trax. We were seven and we managed to get 2 more guys. After a bit of argy bargy about the price we settled it.
The tiny problem about the whole deal was that the big burly Haryanvi, half drunk now, and smoking like a chimney demanded that we pay upfront. Now we weren't entirely certain about this, cuz if the vehicle broke down somewhere along the way. we were downright screwed.
So, while we were thinking this out, another chap shows up with some cartons and tags along. We're happy enough with him coming along since we pay less. None of us really suspected the cartons.
So, the 10 of us arent really too sure about the paying upfront deal and we politely reject the Haryanvi guys offer. By now hes drunk and losing it, and " Bhen ke lo***, Ra*** ke baccho", and an assorted collection of pleasing words shoot out of his mouth. Within no time, 4 other men(also on moderate amounts of alcohol) show up and "strongly suggest" that we take the deal.
When this happens on a deserted Punjabi highway at 1 in the night, you've no choice but to take the deal. So we took his word that he'll send us a vehicle if the current one breaks down. When we leave, the Haryanvi is really happy that things worked out and apologized for the volley of abuse. So much to the extent that, as our jeep was pulling away, we saw his beating his chest and crying "I'm the Bh******, i'm the Ra*** ka baccha", and plop he falls on the ground and passes out.
Either way, the seven of us were happy enough that we were on our way. Little did we know that our driver was a numbskull, and had never driven highways before. Add to that, he hadnt slept the previous night.
Of course, we were oblivious to all this and went on without concern. At about 2 30 AM in the morning, the two other guys who joined us realize that something is amiss, and check with the driver that he knows the way. He nods, but is far from reassuring.
So, we decide to check with the next truck driver who passes us.
Eureka, we were halfway to Dharamshala instead of Manali. We turned around not knowing what new hurdles the night would throw at us.
We had our answer within minutes. The guy who'd showed up with the cartons had enough. "gaand marao bhosadi walon"(you guys can go to hell-translated clean) he says. He opens his carton, takes a quarter of whisky and downs it.Follows it up with another. Takes another quarter, very elegantly mixes coke and starts sipping on it.
He offers it to Chinmay of all people, who's too shocked to react.
So there we were, the seven of us in the middle of the highway in Punjab, not knowing if we were going the right way, with a numbskull of a driver, and a guy in the vehicle guzzling down every last drop of alcohol he had.
Fortunately, for us night passed within a few hours and the sight of daybreak, where a ring of light enveloping a pitch black star studded sky was breathtaking.
At daybreak, we were famished and desperately wanted to take a leak. So, we stopped by at a dhaba. As expected, our whisky guzzler was passed out. We had amongst us Pulkit, who's a real joker. The problem with him is that he keeps an absolute straight face while fooling around with the chap.
So Pulkit walks up to to the passed out guy, shakes him up, flips him around, pulls his hair, whacks him on head, and then turns around and says, "bhai ye oh tapak gaya". (Dude, I think hes dead).
The rest of us, looked at each other dumbstruck. Someone commented "Raat ko Liver raaste pe gir gaya hoga" (His Liver must have fallen off on the way).
We ran back to the jeep, and shook the guy, slapped him around and he woke up with a startle. "Kaun hai Bh******??". We were relieved and had no words to say.
But Pulkit walked up to him with a kiddish face and says" Uncle breakfast karoge??"(Uncle do you want to have breakfast?).
Of course, we realized that Pulkit was fooling around. But what dint expect is the drunkard to open up another case of whisky and downded it in a typical Hindi movie drukard style saying "Ye hai mera breakfast".(This is my breakfast). "yeh deta hai pushti, tushti aur..." (This gives me strength, intelligence and.....) Before he could finish the sentence,
He passed out. AGAIN.
You know it was one of those situations where you're wondering if sanity around you is breaking down.A supposedly dead guy wakes up, shoots a quarter of whisky and goes down again.
Kasli put his hand on his head in an "I give up manner" and said "Chutiya, subah subah pi raha hai". (The asshole's drinking at 6 30 in the morning).
After our eventful break and a tummy full of hot tea, we were on the road again.
Chandu who likes to be called Azad, was now in front beside the driver. If you want to picture Chandu, think of a tough telengana rebel whom you see on TV.(For those of you who dont know Telengana, google it.)
Azad is this tough hardcore, brash chap who's very very headstrong. Azad was next to Mr. Whisky all night, and couldnt sleep due to intoxicating fumes and an earful of drunk gibberish. So, he'd had enough and demanded a change of seat.
Us folk at the back were really comfortable, so we asked the guys in front to switch with azad who'd been in the middle all night.
Azad had no idea what was coming his way. As mentioned before, our driver had been sleepless the night before ours, and hadnt slept a wink since. Quite clearly, the effects began to show. Azad, was clearly pissing his pants when a big army truck scraped the side of our jeep. He looked at the driver, who was driving with his eyes closed.
Mountain cliff's, Army trucks, random wild animals,India's longest and darkest tunnel, we escaped them all and after 12 hours on the ride of a lifetime, we lived to disembark at Manali.
Now, what happened there is another story, for another post.
There's something to it. Unplanned trips, with a miserly budget without a luxury hotel or a chauffeur driven vehicle to take you places.
Trips that take you places which seems to be thronged by everyone but you still have a story to write about 2 years down the line.
Thats right. This post is about one such unforgettable trip that happened 2 years back. Bunch of guys really bored with work decide to get out on a Friday evening.
We were interns at the Central Scientific Instruments Organization at Chandigarh for the summer of 2009. Not exactly a place where you get satisfying work but we were just done with the sophomore year and knew next to nothing.
A month an a half had passed and we were sick of checking out girls at Sector 17 and Sector 35 in Chandigarh. We needed something for an adrenaline rush.
After a flurry of suggestions, backouts and arguments, Manali was the chosen destination. Now the consensus was reached at 6 in the evening, and in an hour all of us were packed and on the road.
Now, the tiny problem that we had was that neither of us had the slightest clue about how we would be getting to Manali, where we would stay and how much it would cost us.
Nevertheless, after a bit of asking around and deciphering Punjabi answers, we found that there were two buses leaving Chandigarh to Manali one at 8 and 9.
With quite a bit of scampering, Chinmay losing his slippers and ignoring the very wise auto wala's advice of " Ek do khambe ke bina mat jao " (Don't go without booze)
we tantalizingly saw the bus at 8 moving away just as we reached the bus terminus.
That meant that we had an hour to kill before the next bus so butter roti and dal tadka were in order.
And so we were at the platform and the clock struck 9 30 and there were no signs of the bus. About 5 minutes later kasli comes panting in and says that the bus to manali is at another platform.
Pandemonium ensued and we found ourselves running at pace holding bags in one hand and our pants in the other to platform 5. Only then did we realize that the bus just arrived from Manali and would stay parked there for the night.
Meanwhile, a wisecrack from elsewhere just got off the phone and told us that the bus we'd been waiting for just showed up back at platform 7.
About 30 seconds of non-stop full blooded "Punjabi Gaali" (abuse) at Kasli ensued, before we held our bags and pants again only to sprint back to 7.
And presto, it was as empty as we had left it 2 mins back. No bus, no people, not even a mouse running around. The full blooded gaali was now aimed at thin air this time.
So we waited, for another hour, and another and there seemed no signs of the bus arriving. Rumors of the bus being halted at Pathankot were flying around and either way, the bottomline was that we dint have a bus to Manali that night.
Now, the simple thing would have been to turn back. But we were determined to get ourselves into shit that night.
So, after walking around a bit, we found a big burly Haryanvi chap who offered us to take us by trax. We were seven and we managed to get 2 more guys. After a bit of argy bargy about the price we settled it.
The tiny problem about the whole deal was that the big burly Haryanvi, half drunk now, and smoking like a chimney demanded that we pay upfront. Now we weren't entirely certain about this, cuz if the vehicle broke down somewhere along the way. we were downright screwed.
So, while we were thinking this out, another chap shows up with some cartons and tags along. We're happy enough with him coming along since we pay less. None of us really suspected the cartons.
So, the 10 of us arent really too sure about the paying upfront deal and we politely reject the Haryanvi guys offer. By now hes drunk and losing it, and " Bhen ke lo***, Ra*** ke baccho", and an assorted collection of pleasing words shoot out of his mouth. Within no time, 4 other men(also on moderate amounts of alcohol) show up and "strongly suggest" that we take the deal.
When this happens on a deserted Punjabi highway at 1 in the night, you've no choice but to take the deal. So we took his word that he'll send us a vehicle if the current one breaks down. When we leave, the Haryanvi is really happy that things worked out and apologized for the volley of abuse. So much to the extent that, as our jeep was pulling away, we saw his beating his chest and crying "I'm the Bh******, i'm the Ra*** ka baccha", and plop he falls on the ground and passes out.
Either way, the seven of us were happy enough that we were on our way. Little did we know that our driver was a numbskull, and had never driven highways before. Add to that, he hadnt slept the previous night.
Of course, we were oblivious to all this and went on without concern. At about 2 30 AM in the morning, the two other guys who joined us realize that something is amiss, and check with the driver that he knows the way. He nods, but is far from reassuring.
So, we decide to check with the next truck driver who passes us.
Eureka, we were halfway to Dharamshala instead of Manali. We turned around not knowing what new hurdles the night would throw at us.
We had our answer within minutes. The guy who'd showed up with the cartons had enough. "gaand marao bhosadi walon"(you guys can go to hell-translated clean) he says. He opens his carton, takes a quarter of whisky and downs it.Follows it up with another. Takes another quarter, very elegantly mixes coke and starts sipping on it.
He offers it to Chinmay of all people, who's too shocked to react.
So there we were, the seven of us in the middle of the highway in Punjab, not knowing if we were going the right way, with a numbskull of a driver, and a guy in the vehicle guzzling down every last drop of alcohol he had.
Fortunately, for us night passed within a few hours and the sight of daybreak, where a ring of light enveloping a pitch black star studded sky was breathtaking.
At daybreak, we were famished and desperately wanted to take a leak. So, we stopped by at a dhaba. As expected, our whisky guzzler was passed out. We had amongst us Pulkit, who's a real joker. The problem with him is that he keeps an absolute straight face while fooling around with the chap.
So Pulkit walks up to to the passed out guy, shakes him up, flips him around, pulls his hair, whacks him on head, and then turns around and says, "bhai ye oh tapak gaya". (Dude, I think hes dead).
The rest of us, looked at each other dumbstruck. Someone commented "Raat ko Liver raaste pe gir gaya hoga" (His Liver must have fallen off on the way).
We ran back to the jeep, and shook the guy, slapped him around and he woke up with a startle. "Kaun hai Bh******??". We were relieved and had no words to say.
But Pulkit walked up to him with a kiddish face and says" Uncle breakfast karoge??"(Uncle do you want to have breakfast?).
Of course, we realized that Pulkit was fooling around. But what dint expect is the drunkard to open up another case of whisky and downded it in a typical Hindi movie drukard style saying "Ye hai mera breakfast".(This is my breakfast). "yeh deta hai pushti, tushti aur..." (This gives me strength, intelligence and.....) Before he could finish the sentence,
He passed out. AGAIN.
You know it was one of those situations where you're wondering if sanity around you is breaking down.A supposedly dead guy wakes up, shoots a quarter of whisky and goes down again.
Kasli put his hand on his head in an "I give up manner" and said "Chutiya, subah subah pi raha hai". (The asshole's drinking at 6 30 in the morning).
After our eventful break and a tummy full of hot tea, we were on the road again.
Chandu who likes to be called Azad, was now in front beside the driver. If you want to picture Chandu, think of a tough telengana rebel whom you see on TV.(For those of you who dont know Telengana, google it.)
Azad is this tough hardcore, brash chap who's very very headstrong. Azad was next to Mr. Whisky all night, and couldnt sleep due to intoxicating fumes and an earful of drunk gibberish. So, he'd had enough and demanded a change of seat.
Us folk at the back were really comfortable, so we asked the guys in front to switch with azad who'd been in the middle all night.
Azad had no idea what was coming his way. As mentioned before, our driver had been sleepless the night before ours, and hadnt slept a wink since. Quite clearly, the effects began to show. Azad, was clearly pissing his pants when a big army truck scraped the side of our jeep. He looked at the driver, who was driving with his eyes closed.
Mountain cliff's, Army trucks, random wild animals,India's longest and darkest tunnel, we escaped them all and after 12 hours on the ride of a lifetime, we lived to disembark at Manali.
Now, what happened there is another story, for another post.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Those deceptive moments!!
Hola,
At some point, its inevitable that life gives you this tiny bit of excitement. A shiver up your spine and a rush of blood to your head.
And just when you think that you're "THE MAN!",life has its own way of saying "Oh you poor pavam curd rice eating Iyer boy!!".
I was in Pittsburgh, during the summer of 2010 and it was the last week of my internship at Carnegie Mellon University. As always I leave everything to the last minute, and buying stuff(clothes,gifts,souvenirs) was pushed and pushed to the last minute.
So on the penultimate day, I convinced myself that I had to buy something for my extended family and cousins which is necessary if you're an Indian because apparently extended family is really important(I still dont know why).
I hopped on a bus and went downtown. Macy's was the the place I knew I could find anything and everything. But I'd never been there before. So in I walked. I usually dont pay heed to signboards and I started roaming around the place.
Now the thing about Macy's is that it has so many things that you're lost for choices. I usually go pick the first one I see but at Macy's you don't really see "one".
For some reason, the store was close to being empty. Barring a few girls on the sales counters, and a few salesmen and a handful of people, the 5 storeyed building was deserted. I'm guessing it was the baseball game that evening.
Either way I had time to kill so on and on I walked listening to dream theater on my ipod, into this sea of clothes, toiletries and ornaments. To be honest, I dont think I was even looking for something to buy.
It was this lazy disinterested walk when I had a tap on my shoulder. Turned around and saw this blond girl no more than perhaps 18 or 19.
Now, when god created man, he made a mistake. He put a brain and he put a c*** with not enough blood to drive both simultaneously.
Blond Girl(BG): Hey do you have some time to spare?
Me:(Are you serious??) Sure, I have plenty. How can I help you?
BG: I need to try out some clothes and I was wondering if you could help me out.
Me:(Is this what I think it is?) YEA(which was maybe no more than a squeak), sure what can I do for you?
Now, at this is the point when life's got you bamboozled. Its moments like these when life catches poor little guys like me who're gettin on with their lives with little ambitions or expectations of the high life. It puts these little silly thoughts in your head which wouldn't have existed a minute ago.
Its almost like seeing a ball that you think you're going to hit for six.
So blond girl goes into this array of tops and comes out with maybe 10/15 tops.
BG: (Hands me her hand bag) : Okay, I need you to hold this while I try these
Me: okay be back soon.
BG: (smiling) be back from where, I'm gonna try them out right here.
Me:(with very little blood going into my brain by now) : You want to try it out here???(Hoping that she doesnt ask me to close my eyes)
BG: Yea(by this time shes reaching for the top that shes wearing to take it off) But arent there trial rooms?
BG: You arent allowed more than 4 pieces at once and I'm lazy so dont wanna go back and forth.
At this point life's looking at you and seeing Borat Sagdiev(from the movie borat) in you. And its probably telling its friend, "What a dumass!!"
BG took her top off and my eyes lit up only to see that she had another semi t shirt type thingy on. Now's the time when you realize that you haven't hit a six.
Life tells its friend "Wait for it its not over!!"
BG:(Trying one after the other, turning around and looking at herself) Does this look good on me?
Me: Yeaaa, pull out all the pink tops, they dont go(For some reason I dont like pink)
You can buy the rest of them(points to the remaining 12 odd tops)
BG:Sure, I'm not Paris Hilton. Help me decide. I need 2 outta these.
Me:pick the blue one and the red one (I'm not even sure if I was pointing to the right ones)
BG: I havent even tried them on.
And she starts trying them on one by one. Me bored by this time and frantically searching for a way out but finding none searching for entertainment as an alternative and since I can't use my ipod I start looking into her handbag.
There was a bunch of umm I dont know what it was, but whole bunch of things mostly cosmetic and clothes and bla.
BG: Its really rude to check a woman's bag out you know!!
Me: I'm sorry I'm not from here. I wont look(note to self whack yourself on the head later)
Finallyyyyyy after 40 odd minutes of holding her bag and watching her try one after the other she picks the blue one and the wierd greenish one.(She could have saved half my time if she had listened to me in the first place)
BG: I'm so glad I found you. Thanks for helping me.
Me:(Thats it???????) Listen I've got some more time to kill so if you wanna try out some pants I wouldn't mind hanging around a bit longer (With my stupid lopsided smile)
BG: Nah that's fine I gotta go. Thanks again(hugs me and walks away)
This is when you realize you've been clean bowled. Life's telling his friend "That was fun maybe we should do that again!!!"
I did know her name but whats the point!! Its like someone's conspired against you
@Arvind Aradhya- I would have loved to post your reaction but for the obscenities :P
At some point, its inevitable that life gives you this tiny bit of excitement. A shiver up your spine and a rush of blood to your head.
And just when you think that you're "THE MAN!",life has its own way of saying "Oh you poor pavam curd rice eating Iyer boy!!".
I was in Pittsburgh, during the summer of 2010 and it was the last week of my internship at Carnegie Mellon University. As always I leave everything to the last minute, and buying stuff(clothes,gifts,souvenirs) was pushed and pushed to the last minute.
So on the penultimate day, I convinced myself that I had to buy something for my extended family and cousins which is necessary if you're an Indian because apparently extended family is really important(I still dont know why).
I hopped on a bus and went downtown. Macy's was the the place I knew I could find anything and everything. But I'd never been there before. So in I walked. I usually dont pay heed to signboards and I started roaming around the place.
Now the thing about Macy's is that it has so many things that you're lost for choices. I usually go pick the first one I see but at Macy's you don't really see "one".
For some reason, the store was close to being empty. Barring a few girls on the sales counters, and a few salesmen and a handful of people, the 5 storeyed building was deserted. I'm guessing it was the baseball game that evening.
Either way I had time to kill so on and on I walked listening to dream theater on my ipod, into this sea of clothes, toiletries and ornaments. To be honest, I dont think I was even looking for something to buy.
It was this lazy disinterested walk when I had a tap on my shoulder. Turned around and saw this blond girl no more than perhaps 18 or 19.
Now, when god created man, he made a mistake. He put a brain and he put a c*** with not enough blood to drive both simultaneously.
Blond Girl(BG): Hey do you have some time to spare?
Me:(Are you serious??) Sure, I have plenty. How can I help you?
BG: I need to try out some clothes and I was wondering if you could help me out.
Me:(Is this what I think it is?) YEA(which was maybe no more than a squeak), sure what can I do for you?
Now, at this is the point when life's got you bamboozled. Its moments like these when life catches poor little guys like me who're gettin on with their lives with little ambitions or expectations of the high life. It puts these little silly thoughts in your head which wouldn't have existed a minute ago.
Its almost like seeing a ball that you think you're going to hit for six.
So blond girl goes into this array of tops and comes out with maybe 10/15 tops.
BG: (Hands me her hand bag) : Okay, I need you to hold this while I try these
Me: okay be back soon.
BG: (smiling) be back from where, I'm gonna try them out right here.
Me:(with very little blood going into my brain by now) : You want to try it out here???(Hoping that she doesnt ask me to close my eyes)
BG: Yea(by this time shes reaching for the top that shes wearing to take it off) But arent there trial rooms?
BG: You arent allowed more than 4 pieces at once and I'm lazy so dont wanna go back and forth.
At this point life's looking at you and seeing Borat Sagdiev(from the movie borat) in you. And its probably telling its friend, "What a dumass!!"
BG took her top off and my eyes lit up only to see that she had another semi t shirt type thingy on. Now's the time when you realize that you haven't hit a six.
Life tells its friend "Wait for it its not over!!"
BG:(Trying one after the other, turning around and looking at herself) Does this look good on me?
Me: Yeaaa, pull out all the pink tops, they dont go(For some reason I dont like pink)
You can buy the rest of them(points to the remaining 12 odd tops)
BG:Sure, I'm not Paris Hilton. Help me decide. I need 2 outta these.
Me:pick the blue one and the red one (I'm not even sure if I was pointing to the right ones)
BG: I havent even tried them on.
And she starts trying them on one by one. Me bored by this time and frantically searching for a way out but finding none searching for entertainment as an alternative and since I can't use my ipod I start looking into her handbag.
There was a bunch of umm I dont know what it was, but whole bunch of things mostly cosmetic and clothes and bla.
BG: Its really rude to check a woman's bag out you know!!
Me: I'm sorry I'm not from here. I wont look(note to self whack yourself on the head later)
Finallyyyyyy after 40 odd minutes of holding her bag and watching her try one after the other she picks the blue one and the wierd greenish one.(She could have saved half my time if she had listened to me in the first place)
BG: I'm so glad I found you. Thanks for helping me.
Me:(Thats it???????) Listen I've got some more time to kill so if you wanna try out some pants I wouldn't mind hanging around a bit longer (With my stupid lopsided smile)
BG: Nah that's fine I gotta go. Thanks again(hugs me and walks away)
This is when you realize you've been clean bowled. Life's telling his friend "That was fun maybe we should do that again!!!"
I did know her name but whats the point!! Its like someone's conspired against you
@Arvind Aradhya- I would have loved to post your reaction but for the obscenities :P
Saturday, March 26, 2011
They're more than just fans
And these are my picks for the top 3 football fans in Europe.
At 3 - Had to pick the Yid Army (Tottenham) and Las Blaugranas(Barcelona) together
At 2- The infamous Kop at Anfield(Liverpool) that money can't buy
And at 1- Park Head, Paradise as it is rightly called at Celtic Park, Glasgow
At 3 - Had to pick the Yid Army (Tottenham) and Las Blaugranas(Barcelona) together
At 2- The infamous Kop at Anfield(Liverpool) that money can't buy
And at 1- Park Head, Paradise as it is rightly called at Celtic Park, Glasgow
Friday, March 18, 2011
They know...
All the last weeks headlines have been with the nuclear disaster in Japan.
Unprecedented yes, but every now and then nature reminds us that we've been screwing up too much with the environment.
Japan was prepared. Prepared for an earthquake upto a magnitude of 7.5, prepared for a tsunami upto 8m tidal waves.
But Japan was not prepared for an earthquake of 9 and a tsunami of over 10m tidal waves.
We're all aware of the wreckage that's been caused. Nuclear plants have blown, cities have been reduced to rubble and people have died. Radioactivity levels have reached an alarming high and the situation looks pallid.
But what's caught my attention most is the number 50........
50 men and women still work at Fukushima at this very moment. Even with the most modern of protection gear they're still exposed to over 1000 millisieverts of radiation a day.
To put that into perspective, its considered unsafe to be exposed to over 1 millisievert of radiation a year.
So they why did these 50 men and women decide to stay back at the one place where everyone was fleeing from?
Maybe it was faith. Maybe it was hope. Perhaps it was even the thought that the only chance of averting a far severe catastrophe was with them.
Irrespective of the reason, they're still there at Fukushima today, doing what they can. Maybe they will succeed, I really hope to god they do. But then again maybe they won't.
Nevertheless, they know.
They know its soon all over for them. I have no idea who these 50 people are, what their names are or what they look like.
But I hope that the world will know, remember and honor them for what they're doing. They are embodiments of the human spirit that lies dormant in most of us.
Unprecedented yes, but every now and then nature reminds us that we've been screwing up too much with the environment.
Japan was prepared. Prepared for an earthquake upto a magnitude of 7.5, prepared for a tsunami upto 8m tidal waves.
But Japan was not prepared for an earthquake of 9 and a tsunami of over 10m tidal waves.
We're all aware of the wreckage that's been caused. Nuclear plants have blown, cities have been reduced to rubble and people have died. Radioactivity levels have reached an alarming high and the situation looks pallid.
But what's caught my attention most is the number 50........
50 men and women still work at Fukushima at this very moment. Even with the most modern of protection gear they're still exposed to over 1000 millisieverts of radiation a day.
To put that into perspective, its considered unsafe to be exposed to over 1 millisievert of radiation a year.
So they why did these 50 men and women decide to stay back at the one place where everyone was fleeing from?
Maybe it was faith. Maybe it was hope. Perhaps it was even the thought that the only chance of averting a far severe catastrophe was with them.
Irrespective of the reason, they're still there at Fukushima today, doing what they can. Maybe they will succeed, I really hope to god they do. But then again maybe they won't.
Nevertheless, they know.
They know its soon all over for them. I have no idea who these 50 people are, what their names are or what they look like.
But I hope that the world will know, remember and honor them for what they're doing. They are embodiments of the human spirit that lies dormant in most of us.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
The power of the song
Stand up......
...... even if you find it difficult...
...... even if you are the only one to do so.....
If even a single strand of hair stood at the back of your neck, then read on.
You might be living the high life in the United States, wearing Armani, eating pizza and enjoying a Metallica concert often. Or you could could be in Chennai and find nothing more appetizing than curd rice with pickles and to you L Subramanium might have the touch of god.
You could be on the streets of Andhra, Telengana or Rayalaseema voicing yourself. Perhaps you're dancing to the latest bollywood groove in Delhi nightclub. Maybe you're in a forest close to Aizwal with leaves to drape yourself.
Or just maybe, maybe you can't read at all.
Nevertheless, ask yourself if you're doing enough for those people in the video. My guess is that exactly the same indomitable emotion flows through them when they watch the videos above.
Ask yourself if you're doing enough for your country
...... even if you find it difficult...
...... even if you are the only one to do so.....
If even a single strand of hair stood at the back of your neck, then read on.
You might be living the high life in the United States, wearing Armani, eating pizza and enjoying a Metallica concert often. Or you could could be in Chennai and find nothing more appetizing than curd rice with pickles and to you L Subramanium might have the touch of god.
You could be on the streets of Andhra, Telengana or Rayalaseema voicing yourself. Perhaps you're dancing to the latest bollywood groove in Delhi nightclub. Maybe you're in a forest close to Aizwal with leaves to drape yourself.
Or just maybe, maybe you can't read at all.
Nevertheless, ask yourself if you're doing enough for those people in the video. My guess is that exactly the same indomitable emotion flows through them when they watch the videos above.
Ask yourself if you're doing enough for your country
Be the change you want to see-Mahatma Gandhi
Monday, January 24, 2011
The mind really messes with you
I've thought long and hard if I should write this one or not. Ultimately I decided to write it. I'm not a person who believes in auguries or premonitions but sometimes there's an indomitable force that compels you to do something. The good part is that you do it voluntarily and have no hazy memories about it the next morning. The motivation behind this is that unknown feeling. And perhaps the opportunity to write this hasn't come at a better moment. With the entire house to myself alone and the whole night to type it out. It's not one of those eerie supernatural feelings but something a lot more peaceful and tranquil.
This post might be extremely obnoxious to a few of my good friends. So "losciento mucho" to you guys. Translates to very sorry. But it's one of those flow of words which cant really be stopped.
I hope certain people never know this post exists. Let alone read it.
Well since its a tad sensitive, I won't spell out names. But the people involved will surely know what this is about. And for those who aren't involved, this is a true story.
From a distance she wasn't someone who caught your attention. But, if you looked closely, you wouldn't miss her.
I first saw her in the dining hall at a remote ashram in deep interior Karnataka. We were a bunch of school kids put together in a big block, with rooms that could hold no more than 7. But ours had 15 of the most outspoken people that batch had ever seen. I knew 3 of them, my classmates and the rest I got to know on the very first day.
At lunch on the first day, out of a week away from home, I noticed her amidst a group of girls. Nothing too fancy. She was just in a salwar kameez and dint pay heed to the bunch of guys trying to broach conversation.
As a couple of days passed, she was the most talked about in the guys block. Some of guys among the 15 knew her and soon the whole group of us 15 guys got to know her bunch of girls. I stayed away from it all. I was an introvert (still am) so making conversation with strangers has never been my forte. But the stronger reason for me staying away from it all was because I was intimidated by her. Yup, I was pretty sure of embarrassing myself with my attitude if I ever made conversation with her.
We had a couple of activities during that week. One of it involved drawing or painting something. The first to finish won something which doesn't come to mind immediately. So my team and I were doing our bit. She walked up to me. "Hey do you have a brown sketch?"
"Nop sorry, just ask around you'll find one." "Sure thanks".
There are people whom you look up to for their attitude and respect them. As she smiled n walked away, she'd earned mine. I probably was the only one amongst us who'd never really talked to them. So amidst all of us, she chose to come n talk to me. Maybe to break the ice. Maybe I was standing closest to her at that point of time. Or just maybe I looked like the guy who might have a brown sketch.
Either way, her approach to getting people comfortable in her presence was astonishing. Direct, yet friendly and yet not giving herself away and making pointless conversation for the sake of it, like so many others do.
By the end of the week, I'd realized that she was a smart girl. And
"Nop sorry, just ask around you'll find one." had been the only words that I'd said to her all week. As we got off the bus at Bangalore, I said "bye", not knowing if she even remembered me. And that was it. My brain decided to shove her into some tiny unused space it had. But the respect I had for her never dwindled.
Life moved on, and a month or two rolled by. My classmate, who'd also come with me to the ashram walks up to me n says. "Dude, I'm dating her!".
This chap has probably been one of my best friends before the two of us were born. Our mothers were good friends since they were our age. And honestly, I don't think I've picked on anyone else in school more than him. All in good spirit of course.
He seemed to have found a new lease of life somewhere. It was a good feeling all around. One of my best friends dating a girl whom I'd respected after speaking a couple of words. So, it came to be that this was sort of a serious affair, and we picked on him for it, in jest of course.
There were conversations about his marriage and his kids and good times to be. Again, my poor social skills meant that I wasn't really up to date with happenings but the other 2 guys who'd also come to the ashram were. So the 3 of us made it a hobby of talking about this guys future.
He finally forced me to speak to her on phone again. I got a lot of stick from her for being a dimwit and not talking to her properly. Hell I should know.
That conversation kick started a host of others. Yahoo messenger took center stage with that familiar chime sounding every second. Our conversations turned from biweekly to daily to twice a day. Lost count of the number of things we'd argued about and the number of jokes we'd create about the poor fellow.
It so happened that she hadn't really told her friends bout her guy. When she did tell them, it became a furor and I'm not sure why women are so keen to meet their friend's boyfriends. Maybe its a social thing that I don't get.
Now, they lived across the city, so meeting him in person wasn't really that easy. So the next best option was yahoo messenger. (I'm not sure why they overlooked phone).
The problem with yahoo was that this jackass of my friend was and still is anti- internet. Chat applications, social networking, twitter hes never on even on of them.
She pinged my one afternoon and wanted me to be him for a while. This idiot probably never had a yahoo ID then so I was the scapegoat.
Before I could reply, I was in a group chat with 3-4 of her friends. The chat room sort of resembled this.
Friend 1: Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Howa u doin??
Friend 2: tell us tell us tell us everything about you.
Friend 3: what do you like about her??
Friend 4: do you know what her likes n dislikes are?? We're gonna quiz you about it...
Friend 3: What does your ID mean (ash_thatscool was my yahoo ID those days, and it resembled his name not to the slightest )
Me: Errr...
Barclays Premier League and insanely fast copy pasting from her private window to the group chat saved my ass. Not his of course, for it felt the force of my shoes.
Oh and about the ID, there was a footballer by name Dean Ashton who played for Norwich city those days. Apparently, I was a Norwich city fan and he was my favorite player, hence the ID.
At least, that's what came off the top of my head and I typed it out. It was BULL--- wait for it SHIT. Fortunately, those girls dint watch football.
Now if that wasn't hard enough, Friend 2 adds me on her chat list, and I had to pretend to be him for a whole month, before I decided to "get my ID hacked" and create a new ID, unknown to Friend 2.
So things went smooth for a long time, and the future looked ruddy. What could possibly go wrong?
A day after her board exams results were out, I was reading the newspaper. I read an article which I dint pay too much heed to. It could have been anyone from that big school. As soon as I got to school, he came up to me and said to me lugubriously "Hey, its her".
Disbelief, shock, and speechlessness followed. It was insane. She'd put a noose round her neck and kicked the chair from underneath. Before the results were announced. Turned out that she did okay. It was one of those days where we never said anything to each other. The same with the following day, which was when the rest of them found out. I wrote her a farewell mail, to a dead inbox, which will probably never open again.
I tried to wrap my head around why she did it. It's never made sense to this day.
I remembered her this morning. I don't know why. It was just one of those thoughts that popped into my head. I guess that's why I'm up at 1 AM writing this post. It's a force which makes you do something you never planned to.
This post might be extremely obnoxious to a few of my good friends. So "losciento mucho" to you guys. Translates to very sorry. But it's one of those flow of words which cant really be stopped.
I hope certain people never know this post exists. Let alone read it.
Well since its a tad sensitive, I won't spell out names. But the people involved will surely know what this is about. And for those who aren't involved, this is a true story.
From a distance she wasn't someone who caught your attention. But, if you looked closely, you wouldn't miss her.
I first saw her in the dining hall at a remote ashram in deep interior Karnataka. We were a bunch of school kids put together in a big block, with rooms that could hold no more than 7. But ours had 15 of the most outspoken people that batch had ever seen. I knew 3 of them, my classmates and the rest I got to know on the very first day.
At lunch on the first day, out of a week away from home, I noticed her amidst a group of girls. Nothing too fancy. She was just in a salwar kameez and dint pay heed to the bunch of guys trying to broach conversation.
As a couple of days passed, she was the most talked about in the guys block. Some of guys among the 15 knew her and soon the whole group of us 15 guys got to know her bunch of girls. I stayed away from it all. I was an introvert (still am) so making conversation with strangers has never been my forte. But the stronger reason for me staying away from it all was because I was intimidated by her. Yup, I was pretty sure of embarrassing myself with my attitude if I ever made conversation with her.
We had a couple of activities during that week. One of it involved drawing or painting something. The first to finish won something which doesn't come to mind immediately. So my team and I were doing our bit. She walked up to me. "Hey do you have a brown sketch?"
"Nop sorry, just ask around you'll find one." "Sure thanks".
There are people whom you look up to for their attitude and respect them. As she smiled n walked away, she'd earned mine. I probably was the only one amongst us who'd never really talked to them. So amidst all of us, she chose to come n talk to me. Maybe to break the ice. Maybe I was standing closest to her at that point of time. Or just maybe I looked like the guy who might have a brown sketch.
Either way, her approach to getting people comfortable in her presence was astonishing. Direct, yet friendly and yet not giving herself away and making pointless conversation for the sake of it, like so many others do.
By the end of the week, I'd realized that she was a smart girl. And
"Nop sorry, just ask around you'll find one." had been the only words that I'd said to her all week. As we got off the bus at Bangalore, I said "bye", not knowing if she even remembered me. And that was it. My brain decided to shove her into some tiny unused space it had. But the respect I had for her never dwindled.
Life moved on, and a month or two rolled by. My classmate, who'd also come with me to the ashram walks up to me n says. "Dude, I'm dating her!".
This chap has probably been one of my best friends before the two of us were born. Our mothers were good friends since they were our age. And honestly, I don't think I've picked on anyone else in school more than him. All in good spirit of course.
He seemed to have found a new lease of life somewhere. It was a good feeling all around. One of my best friends dating a girl whom I'd respected after speaking a couple of words. So, it came to be that this was sort of a serious affair, and we picked on him for it, in jest of course.
There were conversations about his marriage and his kids and good times to be. Again, my poor social skills meant that I wasn't really up to date with happenings but the other 2 guys who'd also come to the ashram were. So the 3 of us made it a hobby of talking about this guys future.
He finally forced me to speak to her on phone again. I got a lot of stick from her for being a dimwit and not talking to her properly. Hell I should know.
That conversation kick started a host of others. Yahoo messenger took center stage with that familiar chime sounding every second. Our conversations turned from biweekly to daily to twice a day. Lost count of the number of things we'd argued about and the number of jokes we'd create about the poor fellow.
It so happened that she hadn't really told her friends bout her guy. When she did tell them, it became a furor and I'm not sure why women are so keen to meet their friend's boyfriends. Maybe its a social thing that I don't get.
Now, they lived across the city, so meeting him in person wasn't really that easy. So the next best option was yahoo messenger. (I'm not sure why they overlooked phone).
The problem with yahoo was that this jackass of my friend was and still is anti- internet. Chat applications, social networking, twitter hes never on even on of them.
She pinged my one afternoon and wanted me to be him for a while. This idiot probably never had a yahoo ID then so I was the scapegoat.
Before I could reply, I was in a group chat with 3-4 of her friends. The chat room sort of resembled this.
Friend 1: Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Howa u doin??
Friend 2: tell us tell us tell us everything about you.
Friend 3: what do you like about her??
Friend 4: do you know what her likes n dislikes are?? We're gonna quiz you about it...
Friend 3: What does your ID mean (ash_thatscool was my yahoo ID those days, and it resembled his name not to the slightest )
Me: Errr...
Barclays Premier League and insanely fast copy pasting from her private window to the group chat saved my ass. Not his of course, for it felt the force of my shoes.
Oh and about the ID, there was a footballer by name Dean Ashton who played for Norwich city those days. Apparently, I was a Norwich city fan and he was my favorite player, hence the ID.
At least, that's what came off the top of my head and I typed it out. It was BULL--- wait for it SHIT. Fortunately, those girls dint watch football.
Now if that wasn't hard enough, Friend 2 adds me on her chat list, and I had to pretend to be him for a whole month, before I decided to "get my ID hacked" and create a new ID, unknown to Friend 2.
So things went smooth for a long time, and the future looked ruddy. What could possibly go wrong?
A day after her board exams results were out, I was reading the newspaper. I read an article which I dint pay too much heed to. It could have been anyone from that big school. As soon as I got to school, he came up to me and said to me lugubriously "Hey, its her".
Disbelief, shock, and speechlessness followed. It was insane. She'd put a noose round her neck and kicked the chair from underneath. Before the results were announced. Turned out that she did okay. It was one of those days where we never said anything to each other. The same with the following day, which was when the rest of them found out. I wrote her a farewell mail, to a dead inbox, which will probably never open again.
I tried to wrap my head around why she did it. It's never made sense to this day.
I remembered her this morning. I don't know why. It was just one of those thoughts that popped into my head. I guess that's why I'm up at 1 AM writing this post. It's a force which makes you do something you never planned to.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Distant memories
Ola!!
See here's the saying which sorta makes sense every time you think about it. "You don't really know the value of something until you don't have it".
About 14 odd years back, a kid moved into a house on my street. He was a couple of years younger to me and seemed the quiet shy type of guy. I wasn't exactly Mr Social but here was someone more reclusive than I was.
So, a few weeks passed and we got to know each other. The streets on those days were filled with kids playing a whole bunch of games. I vaguely remember atleast 20 kids on my street every evening each playing cricket, hide n seek, 7 tiles etc.
So my friend , lets call him kulla (which is kannada for someone who's short) and I got together every evening playing cricket(Yes I did play cricket those days).
As a year went by, we became pretty good friends. I was only about 9 or 10 back then so the title of "best friend" those days was comparable to a being a son of a millionaire. The best friend got the best of everything the person had. Or else, the best friend would resign as best friend :D.
Kulla was never my "best friend" in terms of those days. But he was around always around.
I don't have a sibling and both my parents work till late. So after getting back home from school, life was pretty boring. But Kulla filled that void.
WWE was the most happening thing those days. Kulla and myself were every possible tag team in the WWE. Our opponents were well...... lifeless pillows but we injected life into them like nobody business. My dad made the mistake of buying a ladder. The first thing after he left the house was a tables ladders and chairs match against err.... pillows. I remember the count of broken things in the house that day exceeded 35. Kulla rocketed out the minute he saw my dad opening the gate leaving me stranded.
In the words of Russel Peters, "somebody gonna get a hurt real bad" that day. And it wasnt him.
As the years rolled by, my dad made another mistake. Buying me a computer. Add to it the mistake that my mom made while returning from Iran. Buying me tomb raider 4. Kulla and I stuck to it day and night. I'm pretty sure, we never noticed Lara's hot pants till the 5th level or so. Such was the involvement in the game. 37 levels of traps, puzzles, mummies, dogs, bikes and ancient gods, we cleared it all.
Completing that game earned me a god level status among my gamer friends. Honestly I'd have gone nowhere if it wasn't for him. Tomb raider 4 was followed by prince of Persia 3, followed by tomb raider 5, diablo 2 and the list went on.
Obviously, something had to give way for all these accolades in the gaming world. Unfortunately for Kulla and me, it happened to be something that parents really give a damn about. GRADES and MARKS. Well, the obvious excuse before getting an earful or grounded was the excuse that Kulla hadn't fared any better. Of course, that never helped anyone. But it was worth the shot. It was the same scene at his place too. And of course, the two of us had a laugh about it.
To say that kulla was a sports enthusiast would be an understatement. We tried our hand at every single game that existed, including croquet(for those of you who know what that is). In addition, we invented, improvised and added. Sport was something we both loved and gave it our best shot. We were each others nemesis on the field, be it cricket, football, basketball or volleyball.
To his credit, kulla always was the best among his classmates. Captains would never have a second thought about picking him as he was that good. One distinct memory that I have is of the vacation football challenge.
Our street had a sign board that held up something once upon a time. When the vacation started, only the 2 posts remained of the signboard. It wasn't more than 2 feet across and 3 feet high
That, was our goal. Just one. We didn't need 2 to play a game of football. The street was our turf, and barefoot we played, nonchalant about any cuts, bruises or broken bones. That vacation was probably the best I ever had. We played with a small plastic green ball no more than the size of a musk melon.
2 months, just the 2 of us, mano-e-mano, 1 continuous game to be resumed the next day, after the street lights were too dim and our mothers had yelled all they could. And I remember the score at the end of the vacation being 586-523.
In a football game !!!!!!!! Did we hate it when school began?? You bet.
I remember getting a basketball ring for one of my birthday's. Nothing extravagant, just a ring with a board and a ball of course.
It went on top of my terrace and that's where our basketball games took place. 3 stories high with plain 2 foot rails to protect us much less the balls from plummeting down on to the road below. I'm not sure how many motorists, peed their pants and hit their brakes after being subjected to a basketball falling out of nowhere. But we dint care. The game was too important.
School matches were all about bragging rights. Kulla was a good volleyballer and I was a good basketballer. We represented different teams at school, but we helped each other get better at the other sport.
It so happened that, one fine afternoon, my team was playing kulla's team for the volleyball crown. We walked onto the field with smirks on our faces, knowing that the winner would really rub it into the loser for the rest of the week.
Of course, there was plenty of banter during the game. We taunted each other without inhibitions and there was plenty said. I remember winning the game, and although he was a better player, I had won. Not without his help of course, because the training sessions prior to the game were where we bought out each others flaws in the game.
A year later, this time on the basketball court, it was our teams squaring off again for a place in the final. It was my last year at school, and I was hungry to win the tournament. It was kulla's first year in the team and he wanted to make a mark. He started on the bench and the game was a roller coaster going one way and another. Kulla came on in the final quarter and the larking began once again. Lots of words were said which added fuel to an already intriguing contest.
But amidst all the competition, we exchanged banter with smiles. Not meaning a word of what we said. I remember an incident where he was defending me and I pulled his shorts down, on the blind side of the referee. In retribution, he swung an arm and the referee called a foul :D.
The sight of him frantically trying to convince the ref that I was pulling on his shorts was hilarious. The referee would have none of it. I was considered a saint at school and I was usually given the clean chit much to the dismay of everyone.
But, as they say, cheaters never prosper. We lost a cliffhanger. Kulla was ecstatic but the smiles or the banter never ceased after the game.
I guess sport won, as I had gotten better at volleyball, he at basketball.
Another frenzy, that started in school was stamp collection. It sprung out of nowhere. Suddenly, everyone had their assortment of stamps and exchanges were taking place with the speed and fury, that would put the stock markets to shame.
There again, he was my partner in crime. We had a merger, his collection added to mine at that point made it one of the biggest. We even annoyed and irritated one of my classmates to such an extent that he gave up collecting stamps.
Today, I still own the collection and I'm reminded of him whenever I look at it.
In my final year at school, I opted to take the same van to school as kulla. The font seats were reserved for us, since we were on the drivers good side. The girls at the back never hated anyone else in the van more than the 2 of us. The high pitched squeals and moans from the back of the van only motivated us to rub it into them more that we had the front seats and they would never.
Yea, we were evil!! :D. The van driver and me convinced kulla that he should take up becoming a gangster for a career. Those journeys were unforgettable and were always a laughter riot.
Gradually at high school, we both joined a basketball club. The hoop was the agenda every weekend. My mother had finally bestowed me with a 2 wheeler and kulla and me would zoom to court at the slightest opportunity.
It's been 3 years since I've met the guy. Life's taken me places and we're no longer in touch. I hear he's gotten really good at basketball and isn't really "kulla" anymore.
Nevertheless, it was awesome to have a childhood friend such as him. Maybe I will go down and meet him soon. Till then, thats all of these distant memories.
See here's the saying which sorta makes sense every time you think about it. "You don't really know the value of something until you don't have it".
About 14 odd years back, a kid moved into a house on my street. He was a couple of years younger to me and seemed the quiet shy type of guy. I wasn't exactly Mr Social but here was someone more reclusive than I was.
So, a few weeks passed and we got to know each other. The streets on those days were filled with kids playing a whole bunch of games. I vaguely remember atleast 20 kids on my street every evening each playing cricket, hide n seek, 7 tiles etc.
So my friend , lets call him kulla (which is kannada for someone who's short) and I got together every evening playing cricket(Yes I did play cricket those days).
As a year went by, we became pretty good friends. I was only about 9 or 10 back then so the title of "best friend" those days was comparable to a being a son of a millionaire. The best friend got the best of everything the person had. Or else, the best friend would resign as best friend :D.
Kulla was never my "best friend" in terms of those days. But he was around always around.
I don't have a sibling and both my parents work till late. So after getting back home from school, life was pretty boring. But Kulla filled that void.
WWE was the most happening thing those days. Kulla and myself were every possible tag team in the WWE. Our opponents were well...... lifeless pillows but we injected life into them like nobody business. My dad made the mistake of buying a ladder. The first thing after he left the house was a tables ladders and chairs match against err.... pillows. I remember the count of broken things in the house that day exceeded 35. Kulla rocketed out the minute he saw my dad opening the gate leaving me stranded.
In the words of Russel Peters, "somebody gonna get a hurt real bad" that day. And it wasnt him.
As the years rolled by, my dad made another mistake. Buying me a computer. Add to it the mistake that my mom made while returning from Iran. Buying me tomb raider 4. Kulla and I stuck to it day and night. I'm pretty sure, we never noticed Lara's hot pants till the 5th level or so. Such was the involvement in the game. 37 levels of traps, puzzles, mummies, dogs, bikes and ancient gods, we cleared it all.
Completing that game earned me a god level status among my gamer friends. Honestly I'd have gone nowhere if it wasn't for him. Tomb raider 4 was followed by prince of Persia 3, followed by tomb raider 5, diablo 2 and the list went on.
Obviously, something had to give way for all these accolades in the gaming world. Unfortunately for Kulla and me, it happened to be something that parents really give a damn about. GRADES and MARKS. Well, the obvious excuse before getting an earful or grounded was the excuse that Kulla hadn't fared any better. Of course, that never helped anyone. But it was worth the shot. It was the same scene at his place too. And of course, the two of us had a laugh about it.
To say that kulla was a sports enthusiast would be an understatement. We tried our hand at every single game that existed, including croquet(for those of you who know what that is). In addition, we invented, improvised and added. Sport was something we both loved and gave it our best shot. We were each others nemesis on the field, be it cricket, football, basketball or volleyball.
To his credit, kulla always was the best among his classmates. Captains would never have a second thought about picking him as he was that good. One distinct memory that I have is of the vacation football challenge.
Our street had a sign board that held up something once upon a time. When the vacation started, only the 2 posts remained of the signboard. It wasn't more than 2 feet across and 3 feet high
That, was our goal. Just one. We didn't need 2 to play a game of football. The street was our turf, and barefoot we played, nonchalant about any cuts, bruises or broken bones. That vacation was probably the best I ever had. We played with a small plastic green ball no more than the size of a musk melon.
2 months, just the 2 of us, mano-e-mano, 1 continuous game to be resumed the next day, after the street lights were too dim and our mothers had yelled all they could. And I remember the score at the end of the vacation being 586-523.
In a football game !!!!!!!! Did we hate it when school began?? You bet.
I remember getting a basketball ring for one of my birthday's. Nothing extravagant, just a ring with a board and a ball of course.
It went on top of my terrace and that's where our basketball games took place. 3 stories high with plain 2 foot rails to protect us much less the balls from plummeting down on to the road below. I'm not sure how many motorists, peed their pants and hit their brakes after being subjected to a basketball falling out of nowhere. But we dint care. The game was too important.
School matches were all about bragging rights. Kulla was a good volleyballer and I was a good basketballer. We represented different teams at school, but we helped each other get better at the other sport.
It so happened that, one fine afternoon, my team was playing kulla's team for the volleyball crown. We walked onto the field with smirks on our faces, knowing that the winner would really rub it into the loser for the rest of the week.
Of course, there was plenty of banter during the game. We taunted each other without inhibitions and there was plenty said. I remember winning the game, and although he was a better player, I had won. Not without his help of course, because the training sessions prior to the game were where we bought out each others flaws in the game.
A year later, this time on the basketball court, it was our teams squaring off again for a place in the final. It was my last year at school, and I was hungry to win the tournament. It was kulla's first year in the team and he wanted to make a mark. He started on the bench and the game was a roller coaster going one way and another. Kulla came on in the final quarter and the larking began once again. Lots of words were said which added fuel to an already intriguing contest.
But amidst all the competition, we exchanged banter with smiles. Not meaning a word of what we said. I remember an incident where he was defending me and I pulled his shorts down, on the blind side of the referee. In retribution, he swung an arm and the referee called a foul :D.
The sight of him frantically trying to convince the ref that I was pulling on his shorts was hilarious. The referee would have none of it. I was considered a saint at school and I was usually given the clean chit much to the dismay of everyone.
But, as they say, cheaters never prosper. We lost a cliffhanger. Kulla was ecstatic but the smiles or the banter never ceased after the game.
I guess sport won, as I had gotten better at volleyball, he at basketball.
Another frenzy, that started in school was stamp collection. It sprung out of nowhere. Suddenly, everyone had their assortment of stamps and exchanges were taking place with the speed and fury, that would put the stock markets to shame.
There again, he was my partner in crime. We had a merger, his collection added to mine at that point made it one of the biggest. We even annoyed and irritated one of my classmates to such an extent that he gave up collecting stamps.
Today, I still own the collection and I'm reminded of him whenever I look at it.
In my final year at school, I opted to take the same van to school as kulla. The font seats were reserved for us, since we were on the drivers good side. The girls at the back never hated anyone else in the van more than the 2 of us. The high pitched squeals and moans from the back of the van only motivated us to rub it into them more that we had the front seats and they would never.
Yea, we were evil!! :D. The van driver and me convinced kulla that he should take up becoming a gangster for a career. Those journeys were unforgettable and were always a laughter riot.
Gradually at high school, we both joined a basketball club. The hoop was the agenda every weekend. My mother had finally bestowed me with a 2 wheeler and kulla and me would zoom to court at the slightest opportunity.
It's been 3 years since I've met the guy. Life's taken me places and we're no longer in touch. I hear he's gotten really good at basketball and isn't really "kulla" anymore.
Nevertheless, it was awesome to have a childhood friend such as him. Maybe I will go down and meet him soon. Till then, thats all of these distant memories.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The camel decoration song
Ola !!
A very happy new 2011 to all.
The holiday season always brings with it its own joys and pleasures. Mine took me to the desert state of Rajasthan this winter.
We rented a cab and drove around the state for a week visiting Jaipur(bleh!!) , Jodhpur, Udaipur, Pushkar and Jaisalmer.
This post is about a 13 year old boy called Ashraf from Jaisalmer.
We reached Jaisalmer at midday driving from Jodhpur. The highway being maintained by the army was smooth. But it ran right through the middle of the thar desert. On a moderate winter afternoon with a clear sky, the highway seemed to go on and on to eternity.
The expression "in the middle of nowhere" came to mind. We counted ourselves lucky to see humanity once every 10 kilometers. The sight of a tree amidst the scrubs and bushes every once in 20 minutes was very unusual.
The place is vast, empty and devoid of life. The only notable signboard throughout the 270 km journey was "Pokhran". The valley worse than the one we were in where India had conducted its 2 nuclear tests.
Such was the loneliness of the place, that everything around seemed unwanted. The plants, the people and the desert sands.
Post lunch, we were driven from Jaisalmer to Khuri, further into the unceasing desert just 70 kilometers from the border with Pakistan.
Khuri is literally in the middle of nowhere. It has tents and camels surrounded by sand for miles together. At Khuri, a camel ride awaited to take us into the dunes. Ashraf, greeted me with a smile and we got talking. Me on the camel and him walking alongside. I would have loved to trade places because camel rides arent exactly comfortable on your "important areas".
Another 5 kilometers and the sand dunes grew out of the ground. Ashraf told me that if I got stranded any further than where we were, then the wise thing to do would be to die peacefully at one place.
He told me this with a grin. Ashraf's 13. He's walked his camel right from the time it was born. It's been his best friend. Pretty much the only friend in those parts. He went to school something about 5-6 kilometers away on the camel till he was 8 and then felt that he was wasting his time.
I'm not sure how schools in rajasthan function but I certainly felt that the boy had tried going to school. Things hadn't really worked out for him both academically and financially. So he quit.
On first thought, one would say he was stupid to leave behind a rosy future. But then again, one has to live in the present, survive the ongoing day, sleep through the cold nights of the desert to get to tomorrow. Certainly, his priorities were surviving today rather than dreaming of a bejewelled tomorrow.
Back from the dunes, Ashraf and some of his friends had an entertainment program. It's how they made their living. Camels, folk songs, some traditional instruments around a big bonfire.
They we're ready to share their cultures with the dumbstruck "goras"(foriegners) as Ashraf calls them. So the entertainment began, with Ashraf on the drums and some folk songs. Dance by a girl no more than 12 or 13 stacking pots on her head.One of the songs was called the camel decoration song. It reflected in many ways, their lives. Walking a few miles everyday with pots on their heads to get water, decorating camels, farming desert beans etc. Their lives were intertwined with the desert as yours and mine are with the internet.
As the bonfire denigrated into a soft red glow of ashes and charcoal, the biting cold of the desert night bit into my skin through the layers of the reebok jacket. But Ashraf was unaffected. Wearing but a cotton kurta his enthusiasm for entertaining his guests never dwindled. He dint wear footwear for he never needed it.
One factor that really struck me was the zeal with which they explained each of their acts to the outsiders. I'm pretty sure they never learnt english the way we do. Despite language barriers, they put across their ideas exuberantly. They were even eager for feedback and took our ideas like it really mattered to them.
As the night grew quickly, and the desert sky was black with twinkling stars, it had been an experience worth remembering. In many ways, I'd seen the old India, with "athiti devo bhava" as the motto, full of talent but secluded and subdued.
Did it matter that he was muslim and could have crossed over from Pakistan, a country that many of us despise? He was more indian than many of us will ever be.
Ashraf was extremely enthusiastic about what he does. I'm from a bustling city, so it dint make sense to me why he would be so upbeat about singing the same songs day in and day out. Or why he would be excited about walking the same camel with a different person on it everyday. Or about why he would beat the same drum to entertain people every evening.
Maybe he dint have a choice. This is what he had to do to survive. I went in there thinking he was entertaining me. In reality, I was his entertainment. Meeting different people from around the globe everyday is their only entertainment. That's the best education that they have.
I tried talking Ashraf into going back to school but he wouldn't budge. But then again, his priority was to get through another cold night to see the rising sun again.
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