Violence in Bangalore. 3 buses torched. 2 shops destroyed. Angry Mobs. Tear-gas shells. 400 people detained by the police. 'Breaking News' for the day....rather the past few days. When folks took a break from Shilpa Shetty, and the Racism furore, that is.
Take a bunch of hot-headed, cocky, foolish young 'guns', who decide to wake up one day and protest the manner in which Saddam Hussein was treated. Rather late in the day, and all that, but what the hey. So what they do is slap a 'This is Bush' label on an effigy and have themselves a little bonfire party. Add to this a passing rally by a religious group. Laws of Nature: a bonfire...flags...*whoooooosh*.
You have yourself the beginnings of a 'politically-instigated communal situation'. One in which politics be damned, the innocent bystander be attacked, the media has a field day and everyone with an axe to grind 'speaks for the people'.
As if there weren't enough people, out there, with debatably real reasons for protests, strikes, violence and assault. Now we are chasing after will o' the wisps with burning brands and hateful slogans.
*sigh* ... wake me up after the Apocalypse.
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P.S: In case you're worrying, said violence has been restricted to sections of Ulsoor and Shivajinagar. The rest of Bangalore, thankfully, remains sane.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Taz the Weird
See, this is what happens when love-lorn gorilla tags you, and then forgets to tell you about it....it's left to your random browsing to unearth the tag...sheesh! Axe...sloppy!
Yenivays, gorillas notwithstanding, it looks like her Tazness is about to join the ranks of the weird (those of you who already know me...can the sniggers!). So, what makes me weird? Let me count the ways...
1. I cannot bear to enter a dark room, or be the last one leave a room after switching off the lights. This primordial urge usually has me hollering, and racing up the stairs, before Faz hits the lights. It also makes sure I leave lots, and lots, of low-watt lights burning all over the place...just in case I get the urge to wake up and wander in the middle of the night.
2. I don't look too closely at dark windows...every horror book I ever read, movie I ever watched, is waiting to jump out at me. **Shudder** ! And, yet, I cannot help but turn on 'Buffy'....sheesh....masochist.
3. You've heard of marching to one's own drummer? Yeah, well, I kind of have my own orchestra...all the time, in my head, music playing, urging me to dance. As a result, you will see me doing a shoulder-shimmy, while waiting at a traffic light, or wiggling in the lift. And yeah, am told that visual is as weird as it sounds...complete with hand movements and all!
4. I tune out of the 'real' world, completely, when reading. Which same means you could be having a life-altering discussion with me, and I would be too far gone to notice. I hear nothing, see nothing apart from what I am reading, and don't feel much pain. Faz is yet to tire of this, but for now he just grins when I surface, some time in the future, with a dazed look going 'huh, did you say something?'. I also have to read before I go to sleep...even if just a paragraph!
5. I can't eat anything sweet without wanting to top it off with something savory...I don't like sweets that taste 'sweet'! Which usually means that I can only eat obbattu with mango pickle, and will always leave a morsel of something spicy for my last bite. This also extends to not eating sweets before drinking tea or coffee.
6. I have to wash my feet in order to feel really fresh and clean...this includes after waking up, coming home after having been out, and just before I climb into bed. Not only do I have to wash 'em, I have to moisturize. Which same leaves me with feet better looked after than most people's faces (hey, not made up, my doc says so!)
Now, having just come off being really sick, am not in the mood to be contagious. So am not tagging onwards. Of course, I won't stop you if you feel like joining the ranks of the Weird....there's more of us than you know ;o)
Yenivays, gorillas notwithstanding, it looks like her Tazness is about to join the ranks of the weird (those of you who already know me...can the sniggers!). So, what makes me weird? Let me count the ways...
1. I cannot bear to enter a dark room, or be the last one leave a room after switching off the lights. This primordial urge usually has me hollering, and racing up the stairs, before Faz hits the lights. It also makes sure I leave lots, and lots, of low-watt lights burning all over the place...just in case I get the urge to wake up and wander in the middle of the night.
2. I don't look too closely at dark windows...every horror book I ever read, movie I ever watched, is waiting to jump out at me. **Shudder** ! And, yet, I cannot help but turn on 'Buffy'....sheesh....masochist.
3. You've heard of marching to one's own drummer? Yeah, well, I kind of have my own orchestra...all the time, in my head, music playing, urging me to dance. As a result, you will see me doing a shoulder-shimmy, while waiting at a traffic light, or wiggling in the lift. And yeah, am told that visual is as weird as it sounds...complete with hand movements and all!
4. I tune out of the 'real' world, completely, when reading. Which same means you could be having a life-altering discussion with me, and I would be too far gone to notice. I hear nothing, see nothing apart from what I am reading, and don't feel much pain. Faz is yet to tire of this, but for now he just grins when I surface, some time in the future, with a dazed look going 'huh, did you say something?'. I also have to read before I go to sleep...even if just a paragraph!
5. I can't eat anything sweet without wanting to top it off with something savory...I don't like sweets that taste 'sweet'! Which usually means that I can only eat obbattu with mango pickle, and will always leave a morsel of something spicy for my last bite. This also extends to not eating sweets before drinking tea or coffee.
6. I have to wash my feet in order to feel really fresh and clean...this includes after waking up, coming home after having been out, and just before I climb into bed. Not only do I have to wash 'em, I have to moisturize. Which same leaves me with feet better looked after than most people's faces (hey, not made up, my doc says so!)
Now, having just come off being really sick, am not in the mood to be contagious. So am not tagging onwards. Of course, I won't stop you if you feel like joining the ranks of the Weird....there's more of us than you know ;o)
Sunday, January 14, 2007
A brief trip to hell
It was supposed to be a quick zip into the hills and back...sort of a quick-n-dirty 'there, and back again'(though, with no hobbits in tow). It was supposed to be the filler 'twixt an early breakfast and and a late lunch.
A small matter of leaky pipes, up at the cottage, had Faz, Dad and me piling into the car for a quick looksie. A couple hours onwards, a couple back, and a couple in between...like a nice little dance set.
'Twas nothing of the sort....our quick sojourn upto Ooty, and back, turned into a rattling, bone-jarring, dusty crawl up one hill and down another. It is usually a nice, meandering, drive through forest reserve and up winding roads, with the cozy prospect of cool breeze, pines and homemade chocolate awaiting you.
Except, this time around, there were no roads. Literally. Just stones, gravel, sand, ruts and roots. The roads had packed up and gone South for the Winter, it looked like, and had no intention of returning in a hurry. What little was left kept us alert, and cursing, at a steady 15kmph.
As a result, what should have been a six hour trip, turned into an eleven-and-a-half hour trial, with aching muscles and screaming tail bones...no wonder Mom was pissed :o(
A small matter of leaky pipes, up at the cottage, had Faz, Dad and me piling into the car for a quick looksie. A couple hours onwards, a couple back, and a couple in between...like a nice little dance set.
'Twas nothing of the sort....our quick sojourn upto Ooty, and back, turned into a rattling, bone-jarring, dusty crawl up one hill and down another. It is usually a nice, meandering, drive through forest reserve and up winding roads, with the cozy prospect of cool breeze, pines and homemade chocolate awaiting you.
Except, this time around, there were no roads. Literally. Just stones, gravel, sand, ruts and roots. The roads had packed up and gone South for the Winter, it looked like, and had no intention of returning in a hurry. What little was left kept us alert, and cursing, at a steady 15kmph.
As a result, what should have been a six hour trip, turned into an eleven-and-a-half hour trial, with aching muscles and screaming tail bones...no wonder Mom was pissed :o(
Friday, December 08, 2006
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Will and Wishing...
She had never intended for things to turn out the way they did.
In fact, she had never inteded for things to become real...after all, some dreams were much better when they stayed inside your head!
But, somehow, her will and wish had gotten mixed up. Which is why she was lying in the grass, mixed up with this strong body, being thoroughly kissed by the tastiest lips she had imagined. And all the while her mind was going around in circles, partly from the nibbling that was now trailing from her mouth to her neck, and partly from trying to figure out how she could snap this fantasy off of her and back into the closet in her mind...the one reserved for loney afternoons and midnight musings.
But, did she really want to, she asked herself as her body curved up to meet the mouth that was doing delightful things at her open neckline. A neckline that, for some reason, seemed to be open to her navel! What was she thinking?! Ofcourse she had to....who knew what else her mind would let loose if she didn't quickly get on top of things. Though not being on top seemed to have distinct advantages right then!
She quickly thrust the thought aside and started pulling in her focus to one point deep inside her mind. As the fantasy, she had found herself in, slowly faded she concentrated on the glowing point and drew strength from it.
As she did, she made herself picture herself back where she was before it all happened. Back at her desk, twirling her pen, idly, as she stared out of the window at the sunlit park opposite. That is how all this had started.
Only, now, she made herself turn aside and sit up straight. And she pictured pushing the feeling, previously coursing through her, behind her where she could neither see it nor feel it.
That was the tricky part...if she pushed too hard she would lose the dream entirely, but if she didn't push hard enough it would take over before she could close the door in her head....the door that lead to all her dreams.
There. She had it back under control. Breathing a sigh of relief...or was it regret?...she opened her eyes and smiled. She was back at her dull office, behind her desk, with the sun-warmed breeze floating in the window to disturb some papers. Everything was real.
Until the door opened...and he walked in, stopped in front of her with his hands on his hips, a lazy smile on his lips, a knowing glint in his eyes....she knew those lips, those hands, those eyse....she had just locked them away!
Hadn't she?
In fact, she had never inteded for things to become real...after all, some dreams were much better when they stayed inside your head!
But, somehow, her will and wish had gotten mixed up. Which is why she was lying in the grass, mixed up with this strong body, being thoroughly kissed by the tastiest lips she had imagined. And all the while her mind was going around in circles, partly from the nibbling that was now trailing from her mouth to her neck, and partly from trying to figure out how she could snap this fantasy off of her and back into the closet in her mind...the one reserved for loney afternoons and midnight musings.
But, did she really want to, she asked herself as her body curved up to meet the mouth that was doing delightful things at her open neckline. A neckline that, for some reason, seemed to be open to her navel! What was she thinking?! Ofcourse she had to....who knew what else her mind would let loose if she didn't quickly get on top of things. Though not being on top seemed to have distinct advantages right then!
She quickly thrust the thought aside and started pulling in her focus to one point deep inside her mind. As the fantasy, she had found herself in, slowly faded she concentrated on the glowing point and drew strength from it.
As she did, she made herself picture herself back where she was before it all happened. Back at her desk, twirling her pen, idly, as she stared out of the window at the sunlit park opposite. That is how all this had started.
Only, now, she made herself turn aside and sit up straight. And she pictured pushing the feeling, previously coursing through her, behind her where she could neither see it nor feel it.
That was the tricky part...if she pushed too hard she would lose the dream entirely, but if she didn't push hard enough it would take over before she could close the door in her head....the door that lead to all her dreams.
There. She had it back under control. Breathing a sigh of relief...or was it regret?...she opened her eyes and smiled. She was back at her dull office, behind her desk, with the sun-warmed breeze floating in the window to disturb some papers. Everything was real.
Until the door opened...and he walked in, stopped in front of her with his hands on his hips, a lazy smile on his lips, a knowing glint in his eyes....she knew those lips, those hands, those eyse....she had just locked them away!
Hadn't she?
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Friday, September 15, 2006
Book tagged!
What goes around comes around, and all that jazz....I-sa been tagged by the Axe, so here goes:
1. Book that changed your life: Richard Bach's Illusions and, funnily enough, the Merchant of Venice. I could not help but feel sorry for Shylock, and that started me thinking...perceptions, and prejudice, are sneaky little things! However, I must say that almost every book I have read (with very few exceptions) has had something to make me think. So, kinda hard to list them all :o)
2. Book you've read more than once: That would be just about every book I own...but I think the ones I cannot HELP re-reading are the Wodehouses and Pratchetts. Life is too short not to fill it with laughter!
3. Book you'd take to a desert island: Richard Bach's "Stranger to the Ground"....if I believe hard enough, I will actually fly (hey, if believing worked for Tink, it works for me!)
4. Book that made you laugh: ANYthing by Terry Pratchett...if you haven't read one, yet, you haven't lived.
5. Book that made you cry: Don't really remember crying for a book....movies, yes, books, no...
6. Book you wish you had written: Once again, too many to list...am not even going to try!
7. Book you wish had never been written: Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time (Book 1)...after all, that is where all the mischief started! 10 books down (or is it 11?!) the story is still going on and I have lost track of people, times and places... :o(
8. Book you are currently reading: Pyramids by Pratchett, No Full Stops in India by Mark Tully
9. Book you have been meaning to read: Les Miserables...bought the book and just keep staring at it, and then passing it by...it will take some serious offtime, loads of cinnamon-topped frothy coffee and a table by a window, on a rainy day, for me to actually start.
10. Tagging: Do I have to?! Really? Truly?
1. Book that changed your life: Richard Bach's Illusions and, funnily enough, the Merchant of Venice. I could not help but feel sorry for Shylock, and that started me thinking...perceptions, and prejudice, are sneaky little things! However, I must say that almost every book I have read (with very few exceptions) has had something to make me think. So, kinda hard to list them all :o)
2. Book you've read more than once: That would be just about every book I own...but I think the ones I cannot HELP re-reading are the Wodehouses and Pratchetts. Life is too short not to fill it with laughter!
3. Book you'd take to a desert island: Richard Bach's "Stranger to the Ground"....if I believe hard enough, I will actually fly (hey, if believing worked for Tink, it works for me!)
4. Book that made you laugh: ANYthing by Terry Pratchett...if you haven't read one, yet, you haven't lived.
5. Book that made you cry: Don't really remember crying for a book....movies, yes, books, no...
6. Book you wish you had written: Once again, too many to list...am not even going to try!
7. Book you wish had never been written: Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time (Book 1)...after all, that is where all the mischief started! 10 books down (or is it 11?!) the story is still going on and I have lost track of people, times and places... :o(
8. Book you are currently reading: Pyramids by Pratchett, No Full Stops in India by Mark Tully
9. Book you have been meaning to read: Les Miserables...bought the book and just keep staring at it, and then passing it by...it will take some serious offtime, loads of cinnamon-topped frothy coffee and a table by a window, on a rainy day, for me to actually start.
10. Tagging: Do I have to?! Really? Truly?
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Secure that Lipstick!
Security concerns notwithstanding, separating a woman from her lipstick and migraine medicine is an open invitation for trouble!
Just when you think you have understood all the security norms, and have packed away all potentially hazardous material, something new comes up (BTW, I am curious to see how you terrorize an airplane with a tube of toothpaste or lipstick…threaten to brush your teeth mid-aisle, or smear lipstick on the pilot’s collar?!) …
“Madam, you have something in your hand baggage” said the wise old man on the security mountain.
I smiled at him, sagely, and shook my head “No, I have packed away all liquids / gels / creams / sharp objects in my suitcase”
“No” he insisted “there is something in your bag…please check it again”
What the…?!
I dug through the bag, holding up everything in it for his scrutiny.
“No, not that…not that…no…no…all that is ok…keep checking” he intoned.
I kept digging…papers, books, pens, visiting cards, keys, laptop (minus charger), mobile phone (also minus charger!), and tissues…what else was there?! I had even shifted my lipstick tube to my suitcase at the suggestion of the lady at the check-in counter (although the chappies at Bangalore let me bring it!)
“There is nothing else in the bag…only my tablets” I showed him the little case with my migraine medicine and emergency Digene.
Him bristling “Not allowed!”
Me incredulous “What?! I brought this with me through Bangalore security!”
“That was Bangalore…here it is different. Do you have a prescription with you?”
Now, when was the last time YOU carried a prescription for Digene!?
Me subdued “No”
“Then please pack it away” To his credit, he did not smirk at his little victory.
**Sigh**
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Just so this is clear, I have no issues with the whole concept of heightened security, or the associated restrictions. I understand the reasons and agree that the public should cooperate, in our own interest. My grievance is with the inconsistency of security norms...make up your collective, official, minds people!
Just when you think you have understood all the security norms, and have packed away all potentially hazardous material, something new comes up (BTW, I am curious to see how you terrorize an airplane with a tube of toothpaste or lipstick…threaten to brush your teeth mid-aisle, or smear lipstick on the pilot’s collar?!) …
“Madam, you have something in your hand baggage” said the wise old man on the security mountain.
I smiled at him, sagely, and shook my head “No, I have packed away all liquids / gels / creams / sharp objects in my suitcase”
“No” he insisted “there is something in your bag…please check it again”
What the…?!
I dug through the bag, holding up everything in it for his scrutiny.
“No, not that…not that…no…no…all that is ok…keep checking” he intoned.
I kept digging…papers, books, pens, visiting cards, keys, laptop (minus charger), mobile phone (also minus charger!), and tissues…what else was there?! I had even shifted my lipstick tube to my suitcase at the suggestion of the lady at the check-in counter (although the chappies at Bangalore let me bring it!)
“There is nothing else in the bag…only my tablets” I showed him the little case with my migraine medicine and emergency Digene.
Him bristling “Not allowed!”
Me incredulous “What?! I brought this with me through Bangalore security!”
“That was Bangalore…here it is different. Do you have a prescription with you?”
Now, when was the last time YOU carried a prescription for Digene!?
Me subdued “No”
“Then please pack it away” To his credit, he did not smirk at his little victory.
**Sigh**
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Just so this is clear, I have no issues with the whole concept of heightened security, or the associated restrictions. I understand the reasons and agree that the public should cooperate, in our own interest. My grievance is with the inconsistency of security norms...make up your collective, official, minds people!
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Tag Heu? 'Er!
It looks like I have been tagged by Dents (No, not SRK, despite the title of this post! But Hope lives on!)...and poked as well, just in case I forgot that I was tagged! So here goes:
1) Say who tagged you - The One, The Only..The Doctor Denty!
2) Say eight things about yourself - Hmmm...do you think you ready to know eight things about me? Oh very well, if you insist....
I travel a lot.
I try to write about my traveling, but don't always get around to it.
As a result of all this traveling, I tend to buy a lot of books at the airport.
So, now, I have a lot of books.
I take said books and then read late into the night (which is often why I don't do the write I mentioned before!).
Thanks to the reading, I invariably wake up late in the morning.
This is also because I MUST get my daily 8 hours. Or 10. Or 12.
And these 8 / 10 / 12 are in addition to whatever sleep I get when I am on board the 'plane / us / train.
3) Tag 6 people -
The Tag-Master hisself (add this to your self-tag, Dents...go Nuts!), Sujatha, Amreena, Mr.Vee, DiTtY & Axe (you shudn't have dissed the Dents!)
1) Say who tagged you - The One, The Only..The Doctor Denty!
2) Say eight things about yourself - Hmmm...do you think you ready to know eight things about me? Oh very well, if you insist....
I travel a lot.
I try to write about my traveling, but don't always get around to it.
As a result of all this traveling, I tend to buy a lot of books at the airport.
So, now, I have a lot of books.
I take said books and then read late into the night (which is often why I don't do the write I mentioned before!).
Thanks to the reading, I invariably wake up late in the morning.
This is also because I MUST get my daily 8 hours. Or 10. Or 12.
And these 8 / 10 / 12 are in addition to whatever sleep I get when I am on board the 'plane / us / train.
3) Tag 6 people -
The Tag-Master hisself (add this to your self-tag, Dents...go Nuts!), Sujatha, Amreena, Mr.Vee, DiTtY & Axe (you shudn't have dissed the Dents!)
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Lemmings?
Once upon a time, India was a secular democracy. Apparently that changed, due to popular demand, but some of us missed getting that memo. So pardon me if I stare at you blankly when you prod me in the ribs, snarling "Sing! Or Else!"...Sholayesque as that may be, I have no need to prove my patriotism any more than the next person:
"The HRD Minister's remarks that there will be no compulsion to sing 'Vande Mataram' is a sign of abject surrender to fundamentalists and anti-nationals who should rather have been told to leave India if they do not want to recite the national song," Malhotra told reporters here.
The BJP leader said the Prime Minister should intervene to ensure singing of the national song became compulsory in schools.
"Also, those who are refusing to sing 'Vande Mataram' should be booked for treason," Malhotra remarked. (Who died and made you King?)
Once upon a time, thinking was the rule, not the exception...apparently that has also changed! "Err...I did not think about that" states the rather befuddled-looking MD of the newly opened Hitler's Cross café, on National Television, when pointed towards the fact that some people would find the connection offensive, hurtful even!:
"I will not change the name. We are not promoting Hitler. My decor or products don't promote Hitler. It's just for the sake of the name " owner Punit Sablok claims.(This, with a rather large portrait, of the mustachioed Fuhrer himself , dominating the background!)
Why do I get this nagging feeling that the migration of the lemmings is underway?
Thursday, August 17, 2006
BlogBang : Project Akshara Foundation
During November of last year, a group of bloggers from Bangalore came together to see how we could help the Akshara Foundation on a Reading Movement project they were undertaking with the Karnataka State Education Department.
Recently the Deccan Herald did a story on the 'BlogBang' involvement with the project...though they did manage to get my occupation all wrong!
There were more than 35 volunteers who were a part of the project, including Sujatha, Mandar, Akash, Surjo , Bhaskar, Pradeep, Anwin, Kelly & Shrabonti.
Hats off to Sujatha for getting this going!
Recently the Deccan Herald did a story on the 'BlogBang' involvement with the project...though they did manage to get my occupation all wrong!
There were more than 35 volunteers who were a part of the project, including Sujatha, Mandar, Akash, Surjo , Bhaskar, Pradeep, Anwin, Kelly & Shrabonti.
Hats off to Sujatha for getting this going!
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Blues, Greens and Shower Screens
If I have thunk it once, I have thunk it a gazillion times (and said it a few million times!), Goa is about colour, colour and more COLOUR!
The brilliant blues of the sky and the seas, the luscious greens of the flora, the bright yellow of the Sun and the muted creams of the sands....I could go on forever. I truly believe a colour comes alive, and into it's own, when seen in Goa. I believe colours live for that one moment, like fireflies waiting to spark, a brief burst that banishes the dark.
What brought this on, was my shower. Rather, the shower in my hotel room. Granite underfoot, scattered, smooth, pebbles and waving green ferns, and a blue'n'green tiled panel from which jut-eth the shower-head. A panel that reminded me of the wall of fountains that Tom Hanks built for Catherine Zeta-Jones in The Terminal (originally based on the 1000 fountains that Napoleon built for Josephine! What morance, I say!).
Yenivays, digression happening...coming back to my shower (YES, is MINE till I check out, tomorrow!)...this whole confection is OUTDOOR, and screened by a cunning little wall, topped with wicker matting, surrounded by ferns. All glossed by a fresh wash of rain...
***Sigh***
The brilliant blues of the sky and the seas, the luscious greens of the flora, the bright yellow of the Sun and the muted creams of the sands....I could go on forever. I truly believe a colour comes alive, and into it's own, when seen in Goa. I believe colours live for that one moment, like fireflies waiting to spark, a brief burst that banishes the dark.
What brought this on, was my shower. Rather, the shower in my hotel room. Granite underfoot, scattered, smooth, pebbles and waving green ferns, and a blue'n'green tiled panel from which jut-eth the shower-head. A panel that reminded me of the wall of fountains that Tom Hanks built for Catherine Zeta-Jones in The Terminal (originally based on the 1000 fountains that Napoleon built for Josephine! What morance, I say!).
Yenivays, digression happening...coming back to my shower (YES, is MINE till I check out, tomorrow!)...this whole confection is OUTDOOR, and screened by a cunning little wall, topped with wicker matting, surrounded by ferns. All glossed by a fresh wash of rain...
***Sigh***
Friday, June 09, 2006
Midsummer Snows
Chronologically speaking, this is one of the more recent trips and actually last in the list of ones I have been promising myself to write about...but what the hey! We shall start here because I am in the mood for hot chicken momos with dallé chutney...*slurppp*!
Here came the height of Summer (or so it felt to my heat-averse self!), accompanied by much moaning for ACs and stronger sunscreen, and there came a travel request that needed me to be in Gangtok for a partner meet. Providential? Abso-blooming-lutely!
For the unaware, Gangtok be-eth the capital of the North-eastern state of Sikkim...which same means the Himalayas, snow, the Indo-China border, and all that. And I am strict believer in the fact that you can always pull on as many layers as you need, to keep warm, but can't take off enough layers to battle a warm climate. So give me a cold place any day...the colder the better!
Yenivays, coming back to my meandering path, I landed in Kolkata on Day One and met up with the rest of the folks traveling out for the same meeting. Now, I have never been to the East of our country before, and I really did not know what to expect. From the weather, yes, I knew I was going to get major flak (no surprises there...!), but I was looking forward to new food, a new city and meeting some new people. I must say I had my expectations exceeded(!) on all 4 fronts. Hated the weather (ugh..ick..yaagh!), loved the food (hot luchis with murgir pathuri...jinge aloo posto...misti doi...!), found the City a treat, for anyone who loves old architecture, and was very pleasantly surprised by the people.
Now, most Bengalis I have known in the past have been bent over double under the weight of their own importance; a state that just begs for being taken down a few pegs! There has, of course, been the odd exception to that...but as I said...odd. The people I met on this trip, however, had my jaw hanging on account of their warmth, joie de vivre (or should I say joie de manger ;o) !) and down-to-earthedness...and this when almost everyone in the group was meeting for the very first time. An eye-opener if any!
Nicely ensconced, in all this warmth and camaraderie, I boarded the Sealdah-NJP Special train that night all set to enjoy the comforts of 2-Tier A/C. While I can hold my own with the train travelers of the world, Sealdah station came as a bit of a shock....noise, crowds, humidity, and porters displaying the peculiar Bengali fondness for natakbazi! Which same means that over and above the usual haggle over pricing you will find layers of emotional blackmail being piled on both porter and portee! And I was treated to flashes of this kind of verbal dueling all through the 4-day trip, confirming that railway stations and porters have not cornered the market on this sort of theatrics ;o)
The train journey, itself, unfolded with its usual magic...so sue me, I find train journeys magical!...new-found friends, snacking foods that you would not give time of day to anywhere else, a harried trip coordinator, a completely confounded Ticket Collector, silly jokes, shrieks of uncontrollable laughter, clambering into my berth late into the night, and being hauled out by early birds who cannot stand to see another sleep a wink beyond dawn (well, maybe not dawn, but close enough!)...the perfect ingredients for a jhaalmuri of a journey! Oh yeah...jhaalmuri...I discovered that I can actually whollop 2 packets of fresh-made jhaalmuri, before breakfast, and keep coming back for more. Much to the utter shock of the Bengali men....I wonder why...hmmmmm (Again, for the unaware, jhaalmuri is the Bengali version of sukha bhel / churmuri / puffed rice mixed with chopped onions, chillies, masala, mustard oil, etc...)
Day Two kick started with our reaching New Jalpaiguri (NJP) station and herding into a pile of waiting Sumo and Qualis Cabs to start the long, uphill drive to Gangtok. Beyond a point, all the roads are managed by the Border Roads Organization (BRO), and you will find painted messages and slogans, and the suchlike all along the way, underlining the work they do. I could almost feel the pride levels in my blood rising...the thought of our intrepid men, out there, battling the elements, securing our roads, paving the way...the whole patriotic punch. I am a big one for My Country and Unifying Factors and there's nothing I like better than seeing people come together, driven by a sense of oneness... "All for One and One for All" and all that..quintessential Muskateering!
A long drive later, having lunched on some very forgettable food and having skirted the Teesta river that, by the way, is one of the really good spots for a bit of white water rafting, we drove into the Orange Valley Resort just before Gangtok. The drive up, coming after a long night's journey, had been hot and tiring...but the weather that hit us, as we dragged ourselves out of our respective cabs, was a splash of cold, sparkling water on a hot day. Anyone who has ever washed their face using a bottle of chilled sparkling water, at 2 in the afternoon in the middle of July, knows what I am talking about! (Yes, YES, I shall always go on and on about hot weather and hot days and all that...get used to it!)
We basically closed Day Two with the usual, token, introductory presentations followed by dinner. The high point of my dinner were the Chicken Momos, though the much advertised Dallé Chutney failed to make an appearance, that night. Dallé are little, innocuous-looking, cherry-like chillies that will blow the top of your head off if you approach them from the wrong side (not that there is a right side with Dallé...you are dead anyway. They are also, locally, known as ‘Fireballs’…go figure!). I was too knackered to continue beyond that, though I am told major adda took place (you need to be Bengali to sufficiently explain that term, so I shall give it a miss!) marked by much singing and the suchlike, so I retreated to my room for some much needed shut eye. The day had been long in the tooth and just as short on my patience. And I knew the next day had goodies in store, so I could afford to snooze :o)
The next morning, after a breakfast I can only describe as rollicking, we climbed back into our cabs...though in a more organized and predetermined manner...this time we were headed for Tsomgo Lake and thereabouts. What's in a lake, I thought...more scenery and local flavor (which same, till then had failed to hold any flavor beyond the momos. I have been thoroughly spoiled by Ooty, I must say!). Until we reached the waterfall. Words abandon me, and so shall let the pictures do the talking...
Here came the height of Summer (or so it felt to my heat-averse self!), accompanied by much moaning for ACs and stronger sunscreen, and there came a travel request that needed me to be in Gangtok for a partner meet. Providential? Abso-blooming-lutely!
For the unaware, Gangtok be-eth the capital of the North-eastern state of Sikkim...which same means the Himalayas, snow, the Indo-China border, and all that. And I am strict believer in the fact that you can always pull on as many layers as you need, to keep warm, but can't take off enough layers to battle a warm climate. So give me a cold place any day...the colder the better!
Yenivays, coming back to my meandering path, I landed in Kolkata on Day One and met up with the rest of the folks traveling out for the same meeting. Now, I have never been to the East of our country before, and I really did not know what to expect. From the weather, yes, I knew I was going to get major flak (no surprises there...!), but I was looking forward to new food, a new city and meeting some new people. I must say I had my expectations exceeded(!) on all 4 fronts. Hated the weather (ugh..ick..yaagh!), loved the food (hot luchis with murgir pathuri...jinge aloo posto...misti doi...!), found the City a treat, for anyone who loves old architecture, and was very pleasantly surprised by the people.
Now, most Bengalis I have known in the past have been bent over double under the weight of their own importance; a state that just begs for being taken down a few pegs! There has, of course, been the odd exception to that...but as I said...odd. The people I met on this trip, however, had my jaw hanging on account of their warmth, joie de vivre (or should I say joie de manger ;o) !) and down-to-earthedness...and this when almost everyone in the group was meeting for the very first time. An eye-opener if any!
Nicely ensconced, in all this warmth and camaraderie, I boarded the Sealdah-NJP Special train that night all set to enjoy the comforts of 2-Tier A/C. While I can hold my own with the train travelers of the world, Sealdah station came as a bit of a shock....noise, crowds, humidity, and porters displaying the peculiar Bengali fondness for natakbazi! Which same means that over and above the usual haggle over pricing you will find layers of emotional blackmail being piled on both porter and portee! And I was treated to flashes of this kind of verbal dueling all through the 4-day trip, confirming that railway stations and porters have not cornered the market on this sort of theatrics ;o)
The train journey, itself, unfolded with its usual magic...so sue me, I find train journeys magical!...new-found friends, snacking foods that you would not give time of day to anywhere else, a harried trip coordinator, a completely confounded Ticket Collector, silly jokes, shrieks of uncontrollable laughter, clambering into my berth late into the night, and being hauled out by early birds who cannot stand to see another sleep a wink beyond dawn (well, maybe not dawn, but close enough!)...the perfect ingredients for a jhaalmuri of a journey! Oh yeah...jhaalmuri...I discovered that I can actually whollop 2 packets of fresh-made jhaalmuri, before breakfast, and keep coming back for more. Much to the utter shock of the Bengali men....I wonder why...hmmmmm (Again, for the unaware, jhaalmuri is the Bengali version of sukha bhel / churmuri / puffed rice mixed with chopped onions, chillies, masala, mustard oil, etc...)
Day Two kick started with our reaching New Jalpaiguri (NJP) station and herding into a pile of waiting Sumo and Qualis Cabs to start the long, uphill drive to Gangtok. Beyond a point, all the roads are managed by the Border Roads Organization (BRO), and you will find painted messages and slogans, and the suchlike all along the way, underlining the work they do. I could almost feel the pride levels in my blood rising...the thought of our intrepid men, out there, battling the elements, securing our roads, paving the way...the whole patriotic punch. I am a big one for My Country and Unifying Factors and there's nothing I like better than seeing people come together, driven by a sense of oneness... "All for One and One for All" and all that..quintessential Muskateering!
A long drive later, having lunched on some very forgettable food and having skirted the Teesta river that, by the way, is one of the really good spots for a bit of white water rafting, we drove into the Orange Valley Resort just before Gangtok. The drive up, coming after a long night's journey, had been hot and tiring...but the weather that hit us, as we dragged ourselves out of our respective cabs, was a splash of cold, sparkling water on a hot day. Anyone who has ever washed their face using a bottle of chilled sparkling water, at 2 in the afternoon in the middle of July, knows what I am talking about! (Yes, YES, I shall always go on and on about hot weather and hot days and all that...get used to it!)
We basically closed Day Two with the usual, token, introductory presentations followed by dinner. The high point of my dinner were the Chicken Momos, though the much advertised Dallé Chutney failed to make an appearance, that night. Dallé are little, innocuous-looking, cherry-like chillies that will blow the top of your head off if you approach them from the wrong side (not that there is a right side with Dallé...you are dead anyway. They are also, locally, known as ‘Fireballs’…go figure!). I was too knackered to continue beyond that, though I am told major adda took place (you need to be Bengali to sufficiently explain that term, so I shall give it a miss!) marked by much singing and the suchlike, so I retreated to my room for some much needed shut eye. The day had been long in the tooth and just as short on my patience. And I knew the next day had goodies in store, so I could afford to snooze :o)
The next morning, after a breakfast I can only describe as rollicking, we climbed back into our cabs...though in a more organized and predetermined manner...this time we were headed for Tsomgo Lake and thereabouts. What's in a lake, I thought...more scenery and local flavor (which same, till then had failed to hold any flavor beyond the momos. I have been thoroughly spoiled by Ooty, I must say!). Until we reached the waterfall. Words abandon me, and so shall let the pictures do the talking...
...I was pushed into tasting some of the clear, fresh, water (at that time, my jaw was dropping too much for me to worry about who 'certified' the water as fresh and clean and all that jazz), and I swear to this day my innards are still frozen! As I downed the Drink I could just about feel the freeze moving through me, following in the path of the water I had just swallowed...BRRR!
Now, big D-jango that I am (no, I haven't misspelled it...I know Django...this is not that. This is D-jango, which starts with the chopped off D sound before you move onto the jango part of things. Courtesy Papa K) I had set out dressed only in a cotton dress. Frankly, I wasn't even feeling the cold, until the Drink. Once the Drink hit my system, it was like the sensors popped open an eye but could not quite decide whether to wake up or not. Until, of course, we reached the lake. And the snowline. With a cold wind blowing. And no loos in sight. Anywhere. Ever. Suffice it to say I went to Hell and came back without the benefit of being warmed by the burning fires. In my case, Hell pretty much froze over, and there were no Eagles to herald the event. But like I said, just about when all this started, we reached the lake. The Lake that I had been mentally sneering at (more fool, I!)...see for your self....
T'was like God froze a part of the Heavens and set it down on a mirror. And that was just the beginning! We drove up past sleepy-looking Yak to where we were tossed out into the snow. Remember I was still in my own, personal, Hell, as I got pelted with snowballs, skidded over patches of ice and had snow shoved down the back of my dress. (Boss, I shall forever remember that you ordered the attack...).
The only saving grace was that I had been talked into pulling on Gum Boots, for the frolic in the snow, before we left the lake. If any of you attempt this trip, as you darned well should(!), you can rent gum boots, and jackets and gloves and other protective gear from the many lean-to shops edging the Tsomgo Lake. And if snow's not your thing, then the steaming momos (veggie, per force, as the Lake and its surroundings are supposed to be Holy), chased down by hot coffee/ tea, might hit the spot. (BTW, if you ever hit my brand of Hell, talk to the nice lady at Shop No.40).
Yenivays, after much playing in the snow, and many momos (this time with THE chutney!) and cups of tea, we started for the resort to try and make it back in time for lunch. Now, all of this area around the Lake is within the Army limits, and a few tosses away from the Nathula Pass. So, there are many barracks,units (or whatever else is the correct terminology) and Army jawans everywhere. We stopped to give a few of them, who were off on their two-month leave, a ride down the road towards Gangtok. Tummy filled, Hell banished, extremities frozen and camera primed, I happily snapped our descent from the Heavens. What made the ride even better was knowing that we were now a small, but definite, part of the lives of those soldiers on their way home to their families.
--------------------(More later....am dying for some breakfast!!!)---------------------
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Snapshots from the City
A traffic policeman, at one of city's busy intersections, waving vehicals on with one hand, while absently twirling a long-stemmed flower in the other. Hustle, bustle, honking horns, clouds of exhaust, and in the middle of it all the creamy perfection of the gentle bloom...
...being greeted by the attending guard at the airport security check, and being asked where I have been and how I am doing as she hadn't seen me, on her shift, in a while...
...impatient motorists, waiting for the lights to change, suddenly being pelted by twigs, leaves and fruit by a monkey swinging from the branches overhead. And seeing everyone, after the initial startlement, sharing sheepish grins...no matter what their income, status or size of vehicle, everyone one made equal by a bored monkey with a half-eaten mango in his furry little paw!
...just few snapshots that remind me of the human (or should I say simian!) face of the juggernaut that is this city! :o)
...being greeted by the attending guard at the airport security check, and being asked where I have been and how I am doing as she hadn't seen me, on her shift, in a while...
...impatient motorists, waiting for the lights to change, suddenly being pelted by twigs, leaves and fruit by a monkey swinging from the branches overhead. And seeing everyone, after the initial startlement, sharing sheepish grins...no matter what their income, status or size of vehicle, everyone one made equal by a bored monkey with a half-eaten mango in his furry little paw!
...just few snapshots that remind me of the human (or should I say simian!) face of the juggernaut that is this city! :o)
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Song for Anna
There's a funny thing we do over here,
not sure if you've seen it or know it clear ;
It's something that is our very own,
a special way in which our feelings are shown.
When we are happy, or sad, or mourning a loss
we mix in some anger and give it a good toss;
some stones, some fire, some shouting too;
we add these in to say "I cry for you".
You must not mistake it for something it's not,
this is how we mourn ; violence is all we've got.
So, you see while Death takes Dr.Raj away,
Bangalore burns to keep the tears at bay.
We lost a great man yesterday, and it is entirely shameful that a City that revered his Life is mourning his loss through so much senseless violence. How dare we put our impatience and intolerance first? How dare we think we, and our idea of how things should be done, are more important than paying our respects? How dare we dishonour his memory in such a manner? For Annavaru to rest, Bangalore must rest too.
(Crossposted on 'Everyman's City')
not sure if you've seen it or know it clear ;
It's something that is our very own,
a special way in which our feelings are shown.
When we are happy, or sad, or mourning a loss
we mix in some anger and give it a good toss;
some stones, some fire, some shouting too;
we add these in to say "I cry for you".
You must not mistake it for something it's not,
this is how we mourn ; violence is all we've got.
So, you see while Death takes Dr.Raj away,
Bangalore burns to keep the tears at bay.
We lost a great man yesterday, and it is entirely shameful that a City that revered his Life is mourning his loss through so much senseless violence. How dare we put our impatience and intolerance first? How dare we think we, and our idea of how things should be done, are more important than paying our respects? How dare we dishonour his memory in such a manner? For Annavaru to rest, Bangalore must rest too.
(Crossposted on 'Everyman's City')
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Delirium
It's a race to see who gets me first. Rather, what gets me first.
Some days, it gets so bad, I dread the dark, the fall of night. I have to pull myself away from the familiar, comfortable environs of the office, or the shopping mall, and gird myself up to step out and face the unknown.
Only, not so unknown.
I know that feeling of the walls closing in, my breath burning in my lungs, the air wrapping itself moistly around my face, setting the blood thundering in my ears and making my vision blur.
I know the feel of the bloodsuckers. Them, I know so well.
I feel their vile sting even when they are not really there. They materialize from nowhere, as though a part of the night itself, to torment me and steal my peace.
Yes, it's a race to see which one of them get me first - the relentless onset of summer, or the manic mosquitoes.
Delirium, here I come...
Some days, it gets so bad, I dread the dark, the fall of night. I have to pull myself away from the familiar, comfortable environs of the office, or the shopping mall, and gird myself up to step out and face the unknown.
Only, not so unknown.
I know that feeling of the walls closing in, my breath burning in my lungs, the air wrapping itself moistly around my face, setting the blood thundering in my ears and making my vision blur.
I know the feel of the bloodsuckers. Them, I know so well.
I feel their vile sting even when they are not really there. They materialize from nowhere, as though a part of the night itself, to torment me and steal my peace.
Yes, it's a race to see which one of them get me first - the relentless onset of summer, or the manic mosquitoes.
Delirium, here I come...
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Cut the Crap, Seize the Day
Oh joy. Women all around smiling coyly, simpering, and thanking people for wishing them on the occasion of International Women's Day. Lots of bonhomie happening, and everyone taking care to highlight all they can about what Women Have Achieved. What a party! What crap.
Me, I refuse to join the 'celebrations'.
Why? Because I find having one day, out of 365, kept aside for 'dem wimmin' insulting and quite frankly grossly insufficient. Women are not the idiot cousin who just learnt the spoon goes in the mouth and not the ear. We do not need the perfunctory PR and 'Woo Hoo!'s. Save your bells and whistles, today, and instead keep handy your cooperation and common sense the rest of the year.
As far as I am concerned, every day is a woman's day. There is not much a woman cannot achieve, any time any day, if she makes up her mind. Moms, daughters, sisters, wives, girlfriends, collegues...step up and take ownership of everyday. For you choose how the day shall shape your Life.
Carpe Diem, for every today belongs to you.
Me, I refuse to join the 'celebrations'.
Why? Because I find having one day, out of 365, kept aside for 'dem wimmin' insulting and quite frankly grossly insufficient. Women are not the idiot cousin who just learnt the spoon goes in the mouth and not the ear. We do not need the perfunctory PR and 'Woo Hoo!'s. Save your bells and whistles, today, and instead keep handy your cooperation and common sense the rest of the year.
As far as I am concerned, every day is a woman's day. There is not much a woman cannot achieve, any time any day, if she makes up her mind. Moms, daughters, sisters, wives, girlfriends, collegues...step up and take ownership of everyday. For you choose how the day shall shape your Life.
Carpe Diem, for every today belongs to you.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Stranger to the Ground
I write this as I am headed back home after one more successfully executed event. The relief is immeasurable, and much thanks given that Murphy kept his laws firmly in his back pocket this time!
What with the increase in my traveling, over the past few months, I am learning more about myself, and perhaps a little about the people around me as well. Sitting in the airplane, looking at the clouds scudding by, squinting in the unadulterated sunlight, I am in a state of bliss.
It's official. I love flying. I love everything ABOUT flying. Not be mistaken for the common interpretation of flying, i.e., the act of boarding a commercial airliner for a dash across the country / globe at breakneck speed, being waited upon by a variety of stewards / stewardesses.
What I love is the sensation of leaving the ground and rising up in the air. There is a moment, during the ascent, when your heart seizes and releases with a pure burst of I-have-no-idea-what-but-will-call-it-happyhappyjoyjoy (My blog, my word!). I love happyhappyjoyjoy. I live for that moment, whenever I travel. And I am learning to live with the fact that this is irrevocably linked to sitting in a seat that is too uncomfortable for words, with armrests built for pygmies (and with my height, this is really saying something!), eating food that should be freeze-dried and launched into deep space, far away from the sphere of human activity.
Coming back to flying, or FLYING as my mind insists on the capitalization(!), I have learnt that the width of the grin, and ensuing happyhappyjoyjoy, is directly (if not exponentially!) proportional to the speed of the airplane as it hurtles down the runway, desperate to severe all ties with the ground.
I love peering down at the ground, watching the airport, the city, the people, the Earth grow smaller, and disappear like snow in summer, as we bank and head for the Sun. I also love watching them come closer and grow bigger, filling my sight, as the airplane comes in for a landing. Call me an idealist, but it actually makes me like people and places better. How can you not like anything that looks so good from way up in the sky?!
I have learnt that flying above the clouds is a discovery of a whole, new, world where anything ugly is incapable of existing. Looking past the tip of the wing, to where the white of the clouds contrasts sharply with the clean, bright, blue of the sky, with the Sun burning a spot on the whole canvas.
I have learnt that my latest burning ambition in Life is to fly one of these babies. Or if I can't have that, then to atleast be a part of the busy anthill of activity on the tarmac, as ground crew, involved in getting an airplane set for takeoff. That way, I am a PART of the grand thing that is FLIGHT.
I realise that the whole time I have been devouring Biggles & Richard Bach (yes, I am one of those who actually went way past Jonathan Livingstone Seagull and Illusions), I have been living vicariously...getting off on someone else's pleasure. And now, I want more.
To be a stranger to the ground.
**sigh**
What with the increase in my traveling, over the past few months, I am learning more about myself, and perhaps a little about the people around me as well. Sitting in the airplane, looking at the clouds scudding by, squinting in the unadulterated sunlight, I am in a state of bliss.
It's official. I love flying. I love everything ABOUT flying. Not be mistaken for the common interpretation of flying, i.e., the act of boarding a commercial airliner for a dash across the country / globe at breakneck speed, being waited upon by a variety of stewards / stewardesses.
What I love is the sensation of leaving the ground and rising up in the air. There is a moment, during the ascent, when your heart seizes and releases with a pure burst of I-have-no-idea-what-but-will-call-it-happyhappyjoyjoy (My blog, my word!). I love happyhappyjoyjoy. I live for that moment, whenever I travel. And I am learning to live with the fact that this is irrevocably linked to sitting in a seat that is too uncomfortable for words, with armrests built for pygmies (and with my height, this is really saying something!), eating food that should be freeze-dried and launched into deep space, far away from the sphere of human activity.
Coming back to flying, or FLYING as my mind insists on the capitalization(!), I have learnt that the width of the grin, and ensuing happyhappyjoyjoy, is directly (if not exponentially!) proportional to the speed of the airplane as it hurtles down the runway, desperate to severe all ties with the ground.
I love peering down at the ground, watching the airport, the city, the people, the Earth grow smaller, and disappear like snow in summer, as we bank and head for the Sun. I also love watching them come closer and grow bigger, filling my sight, as the airplane comes in for a landing. Call me an idealist, but it actually makes me like people and places better. How can you not like anything that looks so good from way up in the sky?!
I have learnt that flying above the clouds is a discovery of a whole, new, world where anything ugly is incapable of existing. Looking past the tip of the wing, to where the white of the clouds contrasts sharply with the clean, bright, blue of the sky, with the Sun burning a spot on the whole canvas.
I have learnt that my latest burning ambition in Life is to fly one of these babies. Or if I can't have that, then to atleast be a part of the busy anthill of activity on the tarmac, as ground crew, involved in getting an airplane set for takeoff. That way, I am a PART of the grand thing that is FLIGHT.
I realise that the whole time I have been devouring Biggles & Richard Bach (yes, I am one of those who actually went way past Jonathan Livingstone Seagull and Illusions), I have been living vicariously...getting off on someone else's pleasure. And now, I want more.
To be a stranger to the ground.
**sigh**
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