She has many lovers like me,
Some are mightier than me.
But she is no ones to keep forever,
Not theirs, not mine, nor yours forever.

My love for her is not to bind her,
But to witness the might in her.
To hear her music as she flow by me,
To bear her fury as she flow by me.

Hey you, you mighty river,
One who makes everything shiver.
How come you not spare him, your lover,
But erode his sides, with every hour!

By the biggest hills that witnessed the birth of me,
By the snow so pure, that gave birth to me,
I love him  with every drop in me,
My love is so pure, that i don’t need him with me.

Our love is so true that you will never know,
Its as true as my destiny to flow,
For, every moment i flow by his side,
I carry with me a bit of his sands.

He may die for your eyes.
For me, he is alive within my tides.

We chatted for long – talked about the tides of time, the Moon and Sun. But it was their love, unselfish, that taught me of Love.

For a man to love his woman, he need not have her, within him forever.  His love is true, when he let her live at her will. And for her, the purpose of life is him, to carry the silts from him, to take him to places he could never visit.

I once loved a woman, and i never told her! For me, the truth of my love was the unselfishness in letting her live a better life she deserved. Have you loved someone like us?

PS: this picture was clicked on my way to Uttarkashi. She, Bhagirathi is a sight to witness, carving her way through the mighty mountains. A trip which i shall never forget, like my love for the river which shall never die.

Read my previous clickO note here: Over the hills, to the school

Most of you follow me on twitter and know it. But for those who spare their precious time in reading my blog, here is what i did recently:

Last week i went home to meet my parents. But the wanderer in me took it as an opportunity to explore Wayanad, rather do a sneak preview of what Wayanad has to offer. I will share some notes and pictures from that trip soon.

Kerala trip also offered me a chance to witness Thrissur Pooram, a festival with some 200 years of history, the result of a mastermind ruler Shaktan Thampuran.

I am heading to Kashipur (hopefully) this weekend to witness a mela (festival) and take a safari through Jim Corbett. Some more travel is in pipeline, which i shall post once they get confirmed.

But, the travel notes on Kerala and my upcoming travel will have to wait till i finish my long pending travel notes.

So what’s next? Currently, you are reading about my Ahmedabad trip. After that, i will share notes on my ‘epic’ Chittorgarh trip followed by Kerala notes.

Stay tuned and please bear with my laziness :)

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They cut her arms off; the cradle on which he slept once,
They held him tight; he whimpered at once.

Axe went up & down, splinters flying through air,
Every strike they made, she swayed in the air.

The wood that spilled were blood for him,
Of the mighty tree, mother to him.

Wish they knew what that mango tree meant for him,
Wish they knew it was the mother he lost in his birth.

Every sway was now a blur,
His eyes moist by the hour.

“I beg you, I beg you” he wailed in vain,
For they knew nothing of his pain.

The tree swayed wider, the birds flew higher;
They have seen it, so they moved farther.

Here was his chance, the only chance.
He sprang past, to hug her once.

Somebody shouted, ‘Come back you idiot’.
Nobody cared to bring back the idiot.

He spread his arms, as wide as he could,
”Nobody harms”, said he; as loud as he could.

Shouted the old man, beggar of the town,
”Somebody save him, the tree is coming down”.

He couldn’t hear them, he couldn’t see them;
The tree was all that he cared above him.

He hugged the tree, he kissed the tree,
”Please don’t leave me” – he told the tree.

The tree swayed down to hug her son,
Broke her back and fell upon her son.

The old man gasped, and they shouted;
No voice could do what they wanted.

“He is at peace at last” chirped the bird,
”With the mother he kissed in his death”, said the bird.

Epilogue:

They buried him there, under the tree;
They marked his grave with the trunk of his tree.

If you ever chance to wander into that town,
You will see a mango tree in the centre of the town.

There you shall see a trunk, by the tree;
Where once he hugged & kissed a tree.

Update on 7th April 2013:

What do you think about coincidence? If you are wondering what i am referring to (even if you are not), read this: http://justanotherwakeupcall.wordpress.com/2012/12/09/the-last-tree-standing-a-story/

My post is just a starter in comparison to this post by a blogger i just came to know by coincidence, again!

Here is a picture which i clicked through the rear window of our car when we attempted (and failed of course) to cross Pauri-Garhwal. One of my favourite click, i thought i will share this with you despite the poor quality of the picture.

The whole world is crying & cribbing about how society has lost it. It being civic sense, morality, humanity and all other ‘its’. Well I would say, No Sire, we still have hope.

When half the Indian population is young and ready to embrace knowledge, we still have hope.

Look at those kids who walk kilometres on a daily basis. This rough terrain where urban population goes for a trekking weekend in years, these kids do the ‘trek’, twice  day.

All for education, to improve the living standards, to learn and break conventions. To grow beyond what they are and where they live. Don’t we have hope?

All they need is a bit of guidance, a vision. Tell them about the world beyond what they see or hear, tell them about the goodness that is still left in this world. Tell them how they can shape this world, a world beyond their text books & classrooms.

My dear traveller, the onus is upon you & me to take this forward.
Stop by when you see a kid during your numerous trips.
Talk to him/her, tell them about where we come from.

Tell them how we run away from what they think is a good life.
Tell them how we depend on them to bring humanity back in this world.
Tell them how we are proud of them.

Let them change our world.

And i did bump into a monument, when i went to drop my friend at her posh South Delhi apartment.

A stone throw away from the busy outer ring road of Delhi, this monument, well preserved (or should i say destroyed by excess of preservation), stood alone.

Alone in a park amongst the bungalows & apartments, like another story teller, it looked lost.

What is it? Or Who is it?

I walked around but didn’t find a thing; nor anyone who could translate the stories which ‘it’ shouted so loud!

There were tiny rooms outside, big enough for the traveller to sleep, with iron grills & locks which looked very young.

Inside were many tombs; with Peer Baba’s tomb (so the locals said), in the centre.

A  beautiful structure stood above the tomb, to protect the holy man, from the sky!

I looked around, the inquisitive traveller’s eye is hard to control.

And there i found a beautiful carving, on the ceiling of the western wall.

Looks like they prayed here to the one who knows everything.

I closed my eyes, wondering where am I – what time is it? where did i travel to?

A mystery it is, not hard to break – but then i love this mystery, so i leave it for you to resolve…

Read my next clickO note here: Over the hills, to the school

Read my previous clickO note here: Will you lend your ears?

There stood a tree, nothing but the tree,
A mosque & a tomb apart, no tree to hide the tree.

The leaves are dry, so is the tree,
With a kite on its branch, dark like the tree.

The tree told stories, nobody bothered to hear,
Hey you two legged creature, can you lend your ear?

Jishnu, the @pullipuli, and me walked through Lodhi Gardens few days back. Surprisingly, this was the first time i visited here since i started living in Delhi. We walked around the beautiful, well-maintained garden & the historical monuments while Jishnu took pictures in his SLR.

This tree attracted my attention, first for the kite resting on its leafless branch & for the fact that there were no trees in its vicinity. There was a bench beneath it with no shade it could provide.

Though the tree might be fairly young compared to the beautiful tombs near it, i felt that the tree is older than them & stood witness to centuries of development around it. If only it was alive, it would have had many awesome stories to tell.  But then, who would bother, to listen to an old tree!

Alas, even the couple who sat beneath the tree on that cemented bench, were not keen to listen to the tree. The mighty kite too flew away, leaving the tree alone!

The question is, would you lend your ears – to the stories untold?

Related article:

• I found another interesting article by another traveller on Lodhi Gardens. Read on: Connecting with Nature
• Another tree story: read Priyanka’s relationship with “Palash” here.

Read my previous clickO note here: अग्निपीठ (Agnipeet) – the seat of fire!

Read my next clickO note here: What a I? – said the mysterious ruins!

Centuries of history dipped in valour, pride, sacrifice & love; Chittorgarh was a time travel moment for me. Architectural marvel was secondary, what inspired me were the stories. It was an epic travel and i am still to find words to describe it in length. (you can read a concise form of my Chittor trip here >> chittorgarh and its three shakas)

I spend some time at Ajmer Dargah, listening to the Qawwali praising Khwaja Moinuddin Chisti. Music & religion is a deadlier mixture than any intoxicant. I hardly noticed that it was almost midnight by the time the Qawwali ended!

So i sacked my plans to head to Pushkar & walked around the vacant streets of Ajmer.

Ajmer is beautiful at night, like any other city with history standing tall at the corners of each street.

I walked further, alone and immersed in thoughts.

I walked straight into a group of young blood, standing around a bonfire, savouring the last of the wintery nights.

One of them was sitting on a cane-chair staring at the fire.
I stopped by them, lighting a smoke, from the bonfire.

Suddenly! he jumped up, picked the chair and threw it in the fire.
The bright yellow & orange flames, consumed the chair, in its pyre.

I stood transfixed, the moment told me a truth.
For the chair, glowed like it is the seat of truth!

Every chair is a seat of truth, set on fire.
Responsibilities shall consume you, like the fire.

You are born to be consumed in the fire;
What matters is your will to enter the pyre.

PS:
The fire also reminded me of an old telugu movie i saw in my childhood days. Didn’t understand a word but it left an impact on me for long. A blind flutist (our Sri Krishna from Mahabharata) playing his flute to the intensity of fire by burning his hands!  Watch here!

Read my previous clickO note: And he rowed by – into a new dawn!

Read my next clickO note: Will you lend your ears?

Recently, an experienced travel blogger and a good human – @magic_eye suggested me to focus on pictures and weave stories around it. It was a brilliant thought and so here i am, attempting my “ClickO stories”!

I am not a good photographer, neither i click from SLR. Most of them are shot through my mobile camera, so please keep your expectations low. Bon Voyage!

In October, my sister got married.

In October, my friends came for my sister’s wedding.

In October, my friends & me stayed in a houseboat.

And on that October morning, I woke up to my first dawn in a decade…
with no concrete structures in front of me – just water & with a green outline!

And then he rowed into my vision, a speck with a life – a fisherman on his boat.

And then he rowed across the lake, and my eyes followed him.

The speck grew bigger, while my mind wandered into Hemingway’s ‘Old Man and the Sea’.

Santiago! Yes he was Santiago, the Old Man after the Big Fish.

He paused. I think he heard me call him by his name, or was it the Big Fish or that boat in the distance?

He resumed doing what he is good at, he rowed steadily across the lake!

He was very near to me, but he never looked at me.
His mind & eyes were focused on the Big Fish that he is yet to see.

He was strong, he leaned forward.
The boat moved ahead.
Swiftly but steady, cutting through the clear waters,
Like that bird, in the blue sky beyond.

There was determination in his posture, strength in his arms,
swift was his skiff, but a peck on the lake!

He leaned again, and the skiff moved again…but this time, it was moving away from me.

I stared at him, as he rode towards the edge… till where i could see.
Was it the moist breeze or the tear glands, i closed my eyes for a moment.

As he rowed away from my eyes, my mind wished him luck…
“Santiago, may you get the big one today”

I never saw him again!

These pictures are the most powerful ones i might have ever clicked. When i was clicking him, my mind was racing through the pages of Ernest Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea.

I cannot explain how i felt that day. I could hear his oar hitting the water and it made music. There was nothing in my field of vision but him. A certain silence prevailed & and it brought a certain peace in me. How we try hard to race with time, when time actually stops for us!

Some interesting blog posts on backwaters:

1. http://www.beontheroad.com/2009/09/alappuzha-of-ayurveda-backwaters.html
2. http://www.myunfinishedlife.com/2013/02/kerala-backwaters-travelling-in.html
3. http://twelvefield.wordpress.com/2012/10/16/india-kerala-backwaters-2/
4. http://laurasaffiotistreet.wordpress.com/2013/02/28/kerala-backwaters/
5. http://indiasidentities.wordpress.com/2013/01/19/life-on-the-backwaters/
6. Mail me if you have an interesting post to be mentioned here :)

The next clickO note is: अग्निपीठ (Agnipeet) – the seat of fire!

Usually, food review is all about criticizing & ratings. Even though a qualified hotelier, i am no good at it. So i am going to share a mind-blowing place i think you should visit without rating it.

Restaurant: Udupi Sai Sarovar

Ambience: Very casual & small outlet

Address: A-91B, Lajpat Nagar-II, Central Market, N.Delhi-24

Phone: 011-29832222, 29843333

Mobile: 09971348409

The joy of accidently discovering something has made a great thinker run naked in the streets, long back. Well, thankfully i didn’t do run around naked. But i did discover a place, an eatery which is a blessing for any South Indian in North India, by mistake or sheer luck.

Generally, to find a good South-Indian restaurant in North-India is hard. I wouldn’t blame the restaurateurs as they are forced to customize the taste as per the regions requirement. Simple things like shifting to mustard oil from coconut oil makes a big difference to the taste-buds.

In spite of being in Delhi for nearly a decade now, i have hardly found a good restaurant which provides good South-Indian food.  Right from college days at Pusa campus, i was always under the mercy of North-Indian flavoured South-Indian food. Naturally i lost hope & kept my silence when folks tell me about the tasty up-market South Indian restaurants; how do i tell them how remotely South-Indian they are.

We entered Udupi restaurant at Lajpat Nagar for a coffee and came out with an overstuffed tummy! – that explains it all doesn’t it?. First it was a temptation to have the tomato chutney which comes along with Mysore Masala Dosa, and i ordered one. For a change, i liked the dosa more than the chutney, not meaning the chutney was bad but the Dosa was superb.

Crispy like i would like to have it, but not like a pappad, with the perfect filling, me and my friend finished the Dosa in no time.  Mind you, we were not hungry but wanted a coffee and we were yet to drink the coffee (of course filter-coffee)!

So we order for an Uttappam.

I was never a fan of Uttappam, but this ‘mouth-watering beauty of an Uttappam’, just stole my heart. Naturally i had to finish him off, lest he run away with my heart. Then we started ordering like mad men, who haven’t had anything for days. I hope Tilakraj (if my memory serves me right) didn’t judge me.

Few minutes and we have already gulped more food than the guys in our adjacent tables, together. Tilakraj had a smile mixed with surprise, every time we called him to order something new.

Quality of a south-Indian restaurant can always be measured by the coconut chutney they serve. Careful selection of ingredients is the key behind tasty food. The chutney here was soft & rich. Every time i chew the dosa with chutney spread on it, i could taste the coconut milk oozing out of the chutney.

With a very minimalistic, casual ambience, this restaurant also gave me a South-Indian feeling unlike the up-market ones where the steward wearing dhoti in a non-south Indian way is considered south Indian!

Opinion: For all those poor South-Indians who run to INA for the cheap alternatives to actual south-Indian dosas & to the up-market fine-dining restaurants for the fraud south-Indian Uttappams, you are saved. Head to Lajpat Nagar.

Menu:

Yesterday, a friend got married.

I danced… till my bald head sweat enough to fill a bucket.

Still i danced… for its the joy of the moment what mattered.

Its strange times, when you graduate from  your reckless youth to a responsible self.

When people move out of your life faster than the new acquaintances you make.

Its when you know which relationship will last & which won’t.

The trespasser:

Its been long since Abrar, Halder & me had an all night conversation & movie marathon. It happened yesterday, if my memory serves right, for the first time after Halder’s marriage in November.

While Halder & me dozed off, Abrar kept the tradition on by watching movies till dawn.

Later in the morning, we decided to have breakfast & headed for my jeep. And there we meet the trespasser, snoring in my jeep. In his early twenties, dressed up to the latest fashion, he was sleeping on the back seat of my car. His clothes were expensive, but drenched in alcohol.

If it was me from the college days, it would have been an excellent opportunity for me to pick a fight. But, to my own surprise, i woke him up and even offered him a lift.

The trespasser ‘kiddo’ was not sure how he landed up in my jeep. He showed no embarrassment and was searching for his lost phone. By the looks on his face, he thought we stole his phone. I wanted to give him a bear hug & a tight slap on his face. But we let him go. He even had the audacity to ask (not request) my friend for cigarettes!

I am worried for him…on second thoughts, i am worried for everyone around him.

The Monkey who tasted ‘The Undercover Economist’

We went to Indian Coffee House in Mohan Singh Place (Connaught Place) for coffee, later in the evening. Four of us sat there for 2 hours and the waiter didn’t bother to attend to our requests or serve us any food.

But, we had a very interesting visitor on our table – a monkey. Poor chap mistook my latest addition to the book stack, The Undercover Economist, as some exotic vegetable & snatched it from our table. He quickly climbed the nearby tree and tasted it.

Seems like we humans & monkeys share the same taste towards economics.

He immediately dropped it on the neighbouring roof. My buddy Abrar, did a heroic effort by climbing the adjoining tree & save the poor ‘Undercover Economist’.

Priyanka Bhardwaj, a photographer, quickly clicked some pictures of the monkey’s attempt to eat our Undercover Economist. She was kind enough to share it:

pictures: (above) he tries to read it, then eat it.
(below) yuck, he throws it away

So let me whine, cry & shout and thus feel better.

And then, when i am done with sharing my small joys & sense of achievement along with some whining ;D , tell us how your Yr 2013 is shaping up? Won’t you?

Mayans miscalculated! The world was not ending in 2012 but in 2013. How else can I justify this sudden ‘amplification’ of all activities including travel, work & personal life in 2013.

Within the last 25 days, I visited three cities at three different corners in India, (including one festival & two cities inside a city), didn’t find time to do my laundry, paid my credit card debts (for good) & made more friends than in 2012.

Well it’s not ending there, before this month ends, I will visit three more cities, witness the largest (so they say) religious congregation & meet more friends. Yeah, I can hear your deep sigh & see the envy in your eyes…hold it & read on.

Also, two of my close friends are getting married within a month & i have to visit four more cities in the same month, for work! It doesn’t get over there, i have promised my mom to spend a weekend with her & i have promised “many” friends to join them on weekend trips – for once i want to thank my friends for not walking the talk ;)

Procrastination is the new-world devil. At work, i have to finish some crucial work pending for months! That’s 3 new projects (including pricing & competition mapping) & strategy planning for next year – all in a month – should i say more?

Then starts the small world problems: to find someone with a big smile & supporting shoulder (since my best buddy is getting married), gear-up beast for the great road-trips, align the countless social activities that i have enrolled myself into…more importantly, figure out what i want to do!

In short its a chaotic mess that i am in, but a very lucky one. For i have been smiling during every moment of 2013, till date! Still Chaos is chaos.

Since there is no point in sulking…so Cheerio :)

Yesterday, it was a fort.
Today, a bustling city of sorts.
Here and there stood tall,
ruins that could tell us all.
Stories of all sort, lessons foretold!

It isn’t easy to say goodbye, especially when you know that you might never meet again! Painfully, i said goodbye to Amritavarshini Vaav. Walking forward towards the heart of Amdavad, i turned back again, to say goodbye to Pacnchkuwa Darwaja.

The crowd at the cycling market didn’t notice our sad goodbyes, traveller moved ahead and stones that told history stayed there…waiting for the next traveller.

Gandhi road gave me a deja vu of being there before, or was it the resemblance of this market with that in Chandini Chowk, Delhi? I passed Pada Pol. Pol is usually a cluster of families, generally of the same caste or trade living in a narrow street. They speak of yester years town planning. Read more about Pol: The mysteries of pol. They sustained over two centuries and knelt down before the crazy urbanisation of Amdavad, but is still considered as a key for development: Residential Cluster, Ahmedabad: Housing based on traditional Pols

If one closely observe the buildings on either side of Gandhi Road, you will see some standing tall, oddly constructed compared to the surroundings! They are last of the few buildings left from what i assume is the first steps of urbanisation.

Then beautifully carved verandas adorned the buildings. If you read the article i shared  earlier (The mysteries of Pol), one can understand how carefully they then constructed buildings. Buildings then had space for pigeons & squirrels to dwell peacefully and gave shade for people passing through the lanes below. With time, people forgot the importance in co-existence of humans with nature!

A beautiful temple, the queue outside a dhokla shop, the tasty dhokla, the small winding staircase, the tiny shop with a gramophone larger than its entrance…all told stories.

I listened to them and walked on, till i reached the entrance of another heritage site, a mosque (pic below). Will introduce you to the mosque in my next travel note, till then, keep travelling folks.

This post is in continuation to Chalo Patang Udaane – in search of Amdavad (II)

From the station, by the grace of Google maps, i identified a short route to Siddhi Saiyyed Mosque. Siddhi Saiyyed Mosque is a must visit if you are interested in Amdavad and not in the present day Ahmedabad. I shall tell you about the mosque later, but let me share with you what i found on my way.

I walked around Sarangpur Water Tank into a busy market, towards Gandhi Marg. I was sweating like a pig, the laptop bag which was the only backpack i had, was hurting my back.

I moved on through the bustling market which looked like one of Old Delhi’s numerous lanes. Cows shopped for food and i found a Chole Batura vendor who served me a delicious plate, my breakfast.

Panchkuwa Darwaja

As per Google maps, i was very near to the intersection of Gandhi Marg and there i saw the first gate of Amdavad, Panchkuwa Darwaja.  It is younger compared to the other 20 gates, build when the grand city of Amdavad expanded. I walked around the gate, clicking some pictures and accidently stumbled upon the find of the day. A unique L-shaped baoli – Amritavarshini Vaav

Read more about the gates of Amdavad here: click here

Some pictures of Panchkuwa Darwaja:

Amritavarshini Vaav

This was the first baoli (step-well) i have been to, outside Delhi. When I compare it to Rajon ki Baoli in Mehrauli, its definitely small. But the unique L-shape is very uncommon, so they say!

Unlike most Baolis in Gujarat, it didn’t have much decoration or carvings on it – or was it lost during the renovations? A question which might never be unanswered.  There was no mention of this baoli in any of the articles i read about Amdavad during my train ride or in the Google maps. It was built somewhere around 1723 by Raghunath Das, the then Dewan of the governor of Gujarat, Haider Quli Khan.

I walked down the steps of the baoli and couldn’t stop myself from noticing that the baoli had arches above the steps. Its very unlike the ones in Delhi where the steps where open to the blazing Sun.

Later i realised that Baolis in Gujarat were carefully constructed to minimise water evaporation, no wonder most of them didn’t let sunlight inside – source: @Zenrainman

I didn’t find any proclamations of love by local Romeo’s on the walls of this step-well, surprisingly the lovebirds of Gujarat spared this monument. The well was not that deep as i had expected it to be, but it didn’t have any water as it was the case with other step-wells i have been to. Out of the few baolis i have visited, the only active step-well with ample water is the one in Feroz Shah Kotla (Delhi).

The step-well was like a natural air conditioner, i sat down on the steps uninterrupted, alone. Step-wells are a fascination for me since i first saw them at Mehrauli Archaeological Park (Rajon ki Baoli). I come from a land where every household have a well (at least one for every few house in the plains). But to use a well as a place for socialising was very interesting. I guess it reflects their understanding of water as an essentiality like air. Or is it the dip in the temperature near the wells? If so, why ornate the walls and steps of a Baoli so elegantly, as if it is a matter of pride?

I couldn’t stop the strings of questions which echoed in my mind. Living in a society where socialisation is a rusted concept (Delhi), where neighbours for years are strangers, can such a structure bring people closer?

I kept wondering while the clock ticked faster, ahead.

This post is in continuation to Chalo Patang Udaane – in search of Amdavad (I)

Read the next travel note in this series here: Chalo Patang Udaane – in search of Amdavad (III)

So i call up my friend who is also my host, Manil Agarwal to guide me. He asks me to visit the Jhulte Minarets & Siddhi Saiyyed Mosque while he finish his meetings. We agreed to meet outside the mosque by evening. A quick glance at google maps told me that Siddhi Saiyyed Mosque is not that far from the railway station, so i decide to walk.

First stop – Jhulte Minarets

They stand tall by the platform of the railway station, you could see them from the pedestrian over-bridge as  you head towards the exit. I made a mistake of exiting the station but retraced my path and walked along the first platform till i reached the base of this architectural marvel!

‘Jhulte Minarets’ means, shaking minarets. You shake one of these, the other minaret shakes too. It’s quite a mystery as to how this happens, even to our 21st century scientists. There are many such minarets in India, but the most famous ones are in Ahmedabad. Read more here

The stood there, like orphans, people passing by didn’t even glance at them. I couldn’t find any information board by ASI explaining the importance of this piece of ‘art’. I went inside the fencing around the minarets, not sure whether i was trespassing.

I walked around them, they were tall but not very broad with narrow winding staircase inside them. For the scare of people who climb them to commit suicide & stampedes, the staircase in each minaret was out of bound to public. Never mind, the beautiful carvings on the exteriors of the minarets itself were mesmerizing that i spend an hour walking around them. I realised that both of them are different from each other.

Unlike other minarets in Delhi which have perfectly polished, round exteriors with neat carvings, these minarets had rough but beautifully carved exteriors with designs majorly made of square & rectangular cuts! It looked like a distant relative of the Vijay Stambh (Victory Tower) in Chittorgarh, Rajasthan.

I look up on internet to know more and was surprised to see the scarcity of information on these beautiful minarets in any of the websites where tourists visit for guidance. I will write about them later or maybe i will find someone more knowledgeable to write about these shaking wonders!

As i walked away from the railway station towards my next destination, i saw two more minarets (picture below) on the other corner of the railway station.

I paused for a moment contemplating whether to return or carry forward. I was tired, sweating & standing under the hot sun, confused like a 3 yr. old. I decided against visiting them & walked on towards my next destination, Siddhi Saiyyed Mosque.

Dear Reader,

Some 600 years ago, a king decided to make this city the capital of his Sultanate after seeing a rabbit chase a dog! – with this legend, Karnavati leaves us & Amdavad is born. As i walked down towards the famous mosque, a prominent tourist destination, i wondered, how many of us even knew about Amdavad or Karnavati!

Isn’t it an irony that we know the present day Ahmedabad for more controversies than for its rich history or the great kings. It stands true for most places in this great nation with a history which speaks through stones & mortars.

To search Karnavati known to us through legends is tough, but to get introduced to Amdavad through the remains of what was once a fortified city of Sultan Ahmed Shah is easier.

So I who came to fly kites,
forgot why I was here for the day!
and started off …
in search of Amdavad … in Ahmedabad!

Read the next part of the travel note here: Chalo Patang Udaane – in search of Amdavad (II)

This post is in continuation to Chalo Patang Udaane–touchdown @ Ahmedabad

It was an uncomfortable position, my upper torso leaning onto a pillar, coldness of the platform seeped in through the jeans & froze my buttocks. To add to it, I was holding my mobile on my right hand like the statue of liberty, while it got charged from the power plug high up on the pillar. I was fighting mosquitoes & heavy eyelids.

This  was almost a month back, when i did spend a night on the Jaipur railway platforms, while waiting for my train to Chittorgarh and again on my way back to Delhi. Naturally, i now know the best place in the platform to charge my mobile phone & laptop and elude mosquitoes while taking a short nap ;)

pic above: Jaipur railway station

This time, i managed to be-friend the IRCTC cafe in-charge and got the battery of my electronic instruments charged while waiting for my 02:30 train to Ahmedabad. I hardly slept on the train journey till Jaipur, thanks to a family travelling without prior reservations. Naturally, I was looking forward to sleep on my train-ride to Ahmedabad, rather snore through it.

The train to Ahmedabad was a Superfast starting from Agra. The public address system was very poor at Jaipur railway station that I almost missed my train – had to jump across tracks to board into the already moving train.

The train journey wasn’t comfortable at all. The temperature inside the train was too cold for me, and my jacket was too small to shield me completely. I shivered through the night, another sleepless night.

A group of eleven people including a Hindu couple travelled in my coupé. They glorified the ideology of secularism. They shared food, blankets, talked, laughed & travelled together! The fact that Gujarat is known for its Hindu-Muslim riots in the past, made their relationship more beautiful (or should i say sacred?).

pic: my breakfast for Rs.20

It was hard to say when we entered Gujarat. Both Rajasthan & Gujarat looked the same outside the window. Time moved like a snail while i captured, rather devoured the landscape outside my window. Fortunately i could capture some of them for you, my dear reader.

pic above (left): First view of Gujarat.  (right) Women of Steel!
pic below: through the emergency exit (for her or me?) window

pic above (left): a temple by the track; (right): a dry river bed & two bridges

pic below: Its all about Perception!

Pic above: Sabarmati!

And finally it happened, touchdown @ Ahmedabad – one hour late, under the bright, hot Sun!

Read on or rather, travel with me here: Chalo Patang Udaane – in search of Amdavad (I)

This post is in continuation with my previous post: Chalo Patang Udaane!-the train journey till Jaipur

This trip is called ‘Chalo Patang Udaane’ which when translated from Hindi means, ‘Lets go and fly kites’. This is one of those randomly semi-planned trips where I’m on my way to Ahmedabad to see the kites festival. I will write more about Kites festival after visiting it.

Since it was a semi-planned trip, i had booked my tickets two weeks in advance. So here I am, on my way to my first ever travel to Gujarat. I took the Delhi-Jaisalmer (another to-do destination in my travel list) train to Jaipur which picked me from Gurgaon at 18:30 hr. I could have boarded the double-decker at 18:00 hr and save nearly 2 hours of travel time & that too in an AC compartment, but i decided to stick to my reserved sleeper seat.

I always liked traveling in Sleeper class for the dust laden winds through the open windows to the stories told by fellow travellers. It’s an unmatched, memorable experience which the AC compartments never facilitated. Maybe, AC compartments make people reserved; as if there is a hearsay mandate as to not speak or act freely.

An hour early, I loitered around the station drinking chai . Killing time has become harder since i quit smoking a month back.  And Gurgaon railway station is more like a crossing with platforms on either side. I had nothing to do other than staring at the huge crowd in the station to board the double-decker train.

The train arrived a bit late, at last. One of my first mistake was to book a train on a Friday evening. The train was loaded with people, with limbs & heads protruding out of every possible exit – windows or doors. I almost decided to head back to IFFCO chowk & board a bus to Jaipur. But then, this journey is to woo new experiences & i didn’t have much luggage to carry except for my laptop bag.

So i climbed the train, fighting the crowd and managed few steps away from the door… and got stuck!

Pic (above): they are the ‘regulars’ who can play cards in a moving, crowded train
(below, right): the crowded train

I stood there for 1 hour, unable to move or position myself comfortably. Few fellow travellers started playing cards, they seemed like regulars & have mastered the skill of standing on one foot, comfortably!

Honestly, i was ‘not unhappy’ that people without reservation are sitting on my reserved seat while i was struggling to even stand. Instead i felt sympathetic towards my fellow travellers who brave this trip on a daily basis!

The local crowd got down as we reached Rewari & i managed to reach my berth. Thus, after an ‘active start’, I am on my way to Jaipur for another midnight halt in two months, to wait for my next train to Ahmedabad.

pic: my fellow unreserved travellers

Chalo Patang Udaane :)

read the second part of this travel here: Chalo Patang Udaane-touchdown@ Ahmedabad

It starts with many birthdays, which means celebrations, which also means gifts, which means bankruptcy!

Then comes 9th of December, reminding me that another useful year of my probationary period in this world is over. When others celebrate, my credit card bill get longer and i mourn the lost year.

Then comes Christmas bringing nostalgia of those amazing vacations with family, those carols, the midnight mass and friends. I sulk and rush to the church for a quick prayer. And i sulk again because Christmas just happened with nothing to remember.

Then the new year, or just another day of resolutions and party happens, my December just got over :/

So this year i decided to challenge my comfortably sad routine, and challenge myself.

First thing first, smoke breaks became smokeless-breaks where i walk around office building to restore the lost health (hopefully). Then came lifestyle, where i gave away all that i do not need or might need like unused warm clothes (gave almost all my sweaters away), books that i won’t read again, some friends and some foes. Then came the home, i abandoned my two room apartment and shifted to a single room accommodation which is precisely what i need to sleep at night.

On 8th of December, just before my birthday, i challenged myself, with an adventure sport and decided to travel more and wild. I also decided to spread happiness, directly or indirectly – by spreading warmth in this winter or by making someone smile.

In short, i just decided to start living today, worth remembering tomorrow!

But then it doesn’t end there, it never does, right?

I have two more critical things to handle, on how i express myself and address my fear of love.

To start with i decided to stop talking and start listening. I have been talking too much rubbish in recent days, specifically on twitter, much to mine as well as the readers annoyance. So till i decide on how & what i want to communicate, i will not tweet.

Another challenge is love!

A friend recently said that you become attractive when you are unavailable. Stands true i guess ;).

For years, i stayed away from women after a very bizarre incident in my college days. Something happened and i decided that i wouldn’t want a women in my life at the costs i need to pay. I never considered myself as a boyfriend material, so i thought of relationship as a sour grape. Gradually, the relationship which ‘they’ call love was just an illusion for me. Something which i didn’t need. I never learned the boyfriend etiquette or the do’ & don’ts, but be just brutally honest. I guess my friends (girls) liked it a lot.

Off late, some strange incidents started to happen in a sequence which baffles me. One lead to another, making me think about my no-companion stance. My apprehensions on ‘the emotion’ & honest responses made me look like a moron, most of the time. It was something which ‘they’ were not used to.

But then, the fact is, i don’t understand this world where people speak through words not said and not with the words they say!

I don’t understand what they call a relationship or love. Blame it on my last few years of avoidance. And again, I don’t know how to tackle this!

Having said that, i am okay with the way this December is going, because i did change a lot this December, from what i am to something better & happier.

From the rack above the table, he picked a new bottle of waterman ink. The last bottle from the many he bought way back in 1950’s.

A small dimple appeared among the wrinkles on his cheeks, he said to himself, “One of my best investments”. He was referring to the 96 bottles of waterman ink he purchased, way back in 1950’s.

Arthritis had made it painful for him to hold the pen for long. Writing with his favourite ink pen was one of the very few things he still enjoyed to do. Maybe the only thing!

He stared at the date on the diary, which he fondly calls ‘the ledger’. December 9th, 2012!

He started to scribble:

I am ready. As ready as I have been for the past 38690 days. I have no debts, nor any wealth. I have no kin nor any enemy. No tears nor smiles shall carry me to my grave. I am ready, once again.

He paused to remove his reading glasses (to clean his weak eyes) and replaced them back.

This was his routine; to start every page with the same sentence. The only thing that differed was the number of days.

Weather: pleasant, no rain.

People: I got a telephone call from a young lady, she congratulated me for entering some record book which i didn’t understand. She asked me how do i feel.

When i said that i feel the same like the past thirty eight thousand six hundred and ninety days, she laughed like an angel.

She went on asking what that feeling is. When i told her that I am ready to die like i was for the past thirty eight thousand six hundred and ninety days, she stopped laughing.

I shouldn’t have told her that, i felt sorry but i forgot to apologise. I haven’t heard anyone laugh like that for years.

She wished me a happy  118th birth day and a long life. She didn’t laugh or say anything else.

I wish i hadn’t told her that but now i can do nothing about it.

I am ready, for the 38691th time.

I have no debts, nor any wealth. I have no kin nor any enemy. No tears nor smiles shall carry me to my grave.  I am ready to die.

He closed the diary, which he fondly calls ‘the ledger’. Replaced his pen and the diary on the rack above his table. Arthritis has reached his knees too. The pain on his knees bought tears into his eyes as he stood up.

He replaced the chair under the table, took a last look at the neatly arranged table. Satisfied, he turned around.

Slowly, he walked to his bed.

मि. सहाय, 75 साल के एक रिटायर्ड बैंक मैनेजर, अपने बेटे की मौत के बाद अपने परिवार के इकलौते कमाने वाले सदस्य है..इन्होने भीख मागने की बजाय पपेट बेचना चुना…
इनके हौसले को सलाम!

 link to my repost

This is Mr. Sahai, a 75 year old ex-bank employee, who sells puppets in Connaught place after his family lost their only earning member, his son. I have met  him once, on my way to a tweet-up. He could barely walk, but spoke excellent English.

I was so embarrassed to offer him money, hence bought two puppet from him. I wish i had bought more!

Few days back, i read this article on NDTV (another news Channel):

PS: this is a news article by NDTV. You can read the article by clicking on the picture. I hold no rights to this article, kindly connect with NDTV for any usage of the same.

A father of three (all three are alive), this gentleman (aged 50) was found begging on the streets of Jaipur, in spite of being so highly qualified (double PhD). His son, as per the article is a drug addict & their neighbours didn’t bother to intervene for “5 YEARS!”.

I wonder where are we heading! Are we living in the same country, so rich in heritage, where every kid is taught to respect elders/teachers/guests as God?

I am also inspired by the 75 year olds decision to fight back, to live with pride, when my generation shy away from making a living without sweating. I am worried that a 50 year old couldn’t stand up against his own son, let alone fate.

There are many more questions which arise, but i will leave it for you to think & ponder.

Let tomorrow wake up to a better you & me, Amen.

this post was originally drafted for thealternate.in and was published here: http://thealternative.in/travel/a-journey-to-devprayag/. This is also the third and last part of my travel notes on the Devprayag trip.

He said, “We often see people flowing down the river,trying hard to take the last few breaths of their life. Some do it by their own will, some get swept away by Mother Ganga’s will”. Bhatti ji, our self appointed guide at Devprayag told me this with no emotions on his face! I tried imagining how someone would willingly walk into the ferocious waters at the prayag, and it was not a pleasant thought. For Bhatti, the straight face & the filmy dialogue means livelihood.

pic: Devprayag

Devprayag is one of the five holy confluences (prayags) as per religious scriptures. As per Bhatti ji, this is the most important of all prayags; where rivers Bhagirathi, Alaknanda & the mythological river Saraswati (flowing underground) meet to form Ganga. So important that some choose this as the prayaga (as the place of sacrifice) and head to the next world. There are two caves at the meeting point of the river – Suryagupha & Chandragupha, which were covered by the mighty rivers when we visited Devprayag.

pic: the prayag (point of confluence)

Bhagirathi originates from Gangotri (meaning: origin of Ganga; which is an irony considering Ganga starts from Devprayag) & Alaknanda comes from Badrinath, both are sacred destinations for Hindu’s across globe.

Devprayag, is a small town with barely any parking space & very few hotels. As per Bhatti ji, this place is holier than Haridwar but lack of infrastructure made it less of a tourist attraction. I could hear disappointment in his voice but i was happy, for it was why this place is more peaceful & beautiful. Pilgrims heading to Badrinath or Hemkund Sahib stop here for resting & a holy dip as a bonus.

A small suspended bridge connects the prayag to the river bank where the highway (more like a lane) is situated. You have to walk few hundred meters downhill, in a narrow lane through a market, to reach the prayag. There is also Raghunath ji temple which is open till 12:30 PM for visitors.

pic: the suspended bridge to the prayag

Alaknanda was more ferocious & loud than Bhagirathi. I was surprised when Bhatti ji said that people raft for two days from Srinagar (in Uttarakhand) to Shivpuri (a town downstream near Rishikesh) on the sediment laden Alaknanda. The force of Alaknanda’s murky waters made me wonder whether she would let anyone complete this course at all!

pic: (below left) Alaknanda, (below right) Bhagirathi

pic: (above) Ganga starts from Devprayag

My reason to visit Devprayag was not religious but out of love for Bhagirathi. This is my first step to trace her path back to Gaumukh (Gangotri). Its an awe to watch hercarve through the great mountains with an arrogance that i have never seen in any other river. Once a mighty river, today she is being tied up & tamed at Tehri under the Tehri Hydro Power Project, drowning the town of Old Tehri.

pic: the guides & priests next to the supposed foot imprint of Lord Ram

Standing at the point were two (or three) mighty rivers met, we strained to hear our guide against theroar of the rivers’ flow, all i could do was bow to nature. No wonder Lord Ram chose this place to serve penance for killing King Ravana. Devprayag subtly reminds us that nature is beyond man’s power, with patience as its greatest virtue.

An advise: There are many guides & Hindu priests who approach you as helpful locals and later impose upon you as a guide. Beware of them and save yourself from their exorbitant fees. In case you need one, ask for his charges upfront (Rs.50 for a guide is reasonable in my opinion).

How to reach: At 295 kms from Delhi, Devprayag can be easily accessed by road or by train till Haridwar & then by horrible local transport. If by car, start early morning to avoid the truck traffic in Delhi-Meerut road. You have Bikanerwala or McDonalds & thousands of ‘dhabas’ to have breakfast near Meerut. A quick stop at Haridwar & a night at Rishikesh is recommended. From Rishikesh, Devprayag is 73 kms uphill and will take 3 hours by car. Start early to avoid pilgrim traffic to Badrinath or Hemkund. Avoid rainy season if you are not fond of landslides!

pics (clockwise from left): Manu checking the depth of a new stream on the road created by landslides & rain; enroute Devprayag, Ganga from some 1000 meters above MSL; mist covered bridge at Malakundi

For me, the fun element in my recent trip to Vizag a.k.a Visakhapatnam happened accidently. Since the time i missed my Chennai to Mumbai flight, few months back, i have been extra cautious in planning my travel. So i booked the early morning flight to Vizag from Hyderabad and landed in this beautiful coastal town by 8:30 A.M.

The airport was smaller than my office building, but the view outside was stunning than the so called ultra modern designer buildings in Gurgaon. There were hills in front of me, and hills all around me. There was not a single building, more than two stories, in the vicinity.

I didn’t expect this from one of the most potential tier-2 town in India, so i asked my driver (& my guide) Ramana, “Where is the city?”. To my relief, he said its some 20 odd kilometers away. I felt like a kid who won a bet, but again i was wrong, the city was smaller and less messier than what i had anticipated!

pic (below): The view as you come out of airport with Ramana, my driver in the left corner

However, as we neared the city, i realised that the city is yet to wake up and so would the retailer, whom i was supposed to meet. So i googled for a religious destination nearby, as i guessed it would be the only place that would be open at this hour. To my luck, Simhachalam was the first option. And i asked Ramana to turn around to Simhachalam, some 19 odd kilometers from where we were.

Simhachala Temple is one of the very few temples worshipping Narasimha  (one of the 10 incarnations of Lord Vishnu). I am still confused as to why they call the deity Varaha Narasimha (both Varaha & Narasimha are two different incarnations of Lord Vishnu as per my limited knowledge). Maybe one of you can help me on this.

I am fond of south Indian temples because of their spacious construction & the sacred chants which is more like music for my ears.  The idea of visiting a 11th century temple and that too, one which is dedicated to one of my favourite mythological characters excited me. The drive uphill to the temple was scenic and smooth. We were quite early to avoid the pilgrim traffic.

You can read more about Simhachalam here:

• http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simhachalam
• http://www.vizaginfo.com/simha.htm

Two interesting facts about Simhachalam: the deity is always covered by sandalwood paste and would only be visible to public for 12 hours in a year. Also, this temple is probably the second most richest temple in India.

pic (above); the large tree in the parking lot of the temple, which i guess would be some hundred odd years old ,surrounded by a small market

Uphill (after paying a toll tax of Rs.30), we reached a bus stand in front of the temple, from where, regular bus service happens to Vizag. Temple authority also run a bus for devotees from the Simhachalam town (downhill) to the temple, for a nominal cost (source: Ramana). There was a huge parking lot with some shops & a huge tree (pic above). The tree alone made me happy, something i miss in the temples up north.

It was time for breakfast and i had this (pic below) along with the devotees from a fast food joint & it was yummy. 

Pic (above): the fast food joint were i had a yummy breakfast & coffee for some 20 bucks

(below): the market next to the bus stand

The temple was some 100 odd steps uphill from the bus stand and there was construction happening all around, with adequate parking space and decently maintained toilets. I removed my shoes and left all my valuables, except for some money and mobile phone, in my car. You have facilities to leave your shoes near the temple if your travel by bus. Temple authorities were constantly warning the devotees against pickpockets & thieves.

As i walked uphill, i saw a group of people performing a religious ritual (pic below). They lit a torch and shouted their prayers, people around them paid respect by bowing to the fire. My mind slowly woke up and i sense of holiness in the air.

Uphill, there was a huge mandap (pic below) which looked like a new addition. There was a huge rath (pic below) next to the mandap which i am sure would be used in procession of some other deity during festival season, as the Narasimha idol is supposedly fixed onto the ground with its foot beneath the ground.

Pic (below): the mandap

pic(below): The gate to the interior of the temple, now used as the exit gate

pic (below): you can donate a cow if you wish to

After roaming around the temple, i decided to go in. There are two entry gates, one for Rs. 20/- and another for Rs.100/-, latter is obviously a VIP entrance. I chose the VIP pass to save time.

Inside the temple, photography is not allowed, but i managed to take the picture of the exterior of this century old temple.

pic: (above) at the entrance where you offer coconut for the deity (below) the century old mandap which is cordoned from any visitors

Inside the temple, you have to pay an additional Rs.100/- to go near the sandalwood covered idol of Lord Narasimha to offer your prayers, which i was not very interested in. Still, i stood there for few seconds, amidst the chaos and prayers of the followers of Lord Narasimha, marvelled by the 11th century architecture in black stone. It looked more gothic and reminded me of a temple i have visited in Pondicherry (now Puducherry).

pic (below): the back side of the 11th Century temple

Inside the temple i received a small banana as prasadam and  outside the temple, we were offered the blessings of the ‘Lord with Lion’s head’, in the form of lemon rice (below).

pic (below): prasadam – consumable blessings of the Lord

pic: (above) the exit which should have been the entrance; (below) a signboard on the exit which says “Offering or sharing of food is the best donation (and surest way for moksha)

pic (below): A view of Simhachalam town from the top

I am not a Hindu nor am I a believer of Lord Narasimha, yet, as I walked out of the temple, i had a certain sense of inner peace. I believe it is the people around me, with their honest, selfless beliefs that vibrates a positive energy inside the temple. Or is it the 100 year old architecture, which stood witness to many wars & prosperous moments? I wouldn’t know for I am just a common man, a wanderer.

Epilogue: I was happy that i visited Simhachalam for the century old temple talks history in every stone. But without any proper signage, explaining the history of various structures inside the temple, i was more lost than thrilled. This place is clearly prepared for religious travellers and not for tourists. If you ever travel to Simhachala temple (which i recommend you should), prepare yourself with whatever you can find in internet. Bon Voyage!

I am a product planner who bangs his head on the wall for a new idea, every day! With increased competition, reduced margins & almost zero consumer loyalty, we are always at war to win consumer hearts (& wallets).

This is a post on an accessory which i purchased for my Nokia Lumia 800.

When i purchased Lumia, folks told me that it was a mistake. But i wanted lesser choices than what Android offered in every corner of their phone’s menu; and more freedom that what Apple offered. I never regretted my decision!

Till last week, i was wondering whether Nokia is going to doom! But then i bought this:

Let my tweets speak for me:

When u are all speaking of #iPhone5 let me introduce U to a smart move by #Nokia ~ external battery twitpic.com/atwl69

— നാടോടി (@deejTHtraveller) September 12, 2012

#Nokia did a smart move by introducing a backup battery which can also charge other smartphones #win

— നാടോടി (@deejTHtraveller) September 12, 2012

At 1500 INR #Nokia has positioned it aggressively compared to the competition which is priced 30% more for a bit more mAh #win

— നാടോടി (@deejTHtraveller) September 12, 2012

As a product planner I strongly believe that money lies in accessories than in the competitive market of smartphones. #Nokia just proves it

— നാടോടി (@deejTHtraveller) September 12, 2012

With their not-so-subtle launch of Windows 8 enabled smartphones & other gadgets they might not be stealing limelight as they used to. However, their move on tapping the accessory market which might offer nearly 100% or more margin on a sale, proves that their strategists are not sleeping.

Competitors beware; if you had ruled out Nokia, you are a fool – verdict.

“Professor” she shouted, it sounded more like a cry of a six year old. He turned back and was surprised to see her. He didn’t recognise her though his fading memories told him that the face is familiar.

He didn’t move from where he stood. Slight drizzle left marks on his crisp blue shirt, the only shirt he had. She walked towards him and greeted him with a faint smile. “Do you remember me Sir?” she asked.

Age has left wrinkles on his face and mind. Memory played hide and seek with him. Sometimes he even forgot his way home! He was 73 and looked way older. Straining hard, he straightened himself; or he tried to, would be more appropriate. Age has eaten his strength like the termites have carved into the roof of the temple in the slum.

“You….i am sorry child. I am too old to even remember my name these days” he said, visibly embarrassed. She reminded him that he was his student when he taught Chemistry at the most prestigious graduate school in town. He smiled and nodded. He didn’t recognise her.

15 years is too long though it passed like a lightning in her life. Married and with no kids, she has been busy trying to forget her woes, she never notices how time left her stranded in this place.

“Where do you stay Sir?” she asked. He replied with an uncertainty “Near by”. For a moment she felt the roles that they played in the drama called life has reversed -she the professor and he the student. In his days, he was the most respected of all teachers. His classes were the most attended. They were more fun than any other means of the entertainment this wretched city offered then.

He didn’t speak, a drop of sweat on his forehead infused with the raindrop and streamed down his cheek. There was no scope of conversation at all, she realized. “Can I drop you somewhere?”. He looked at her for a moment and said, “No my child, I will walk”. That was a statement not an answer, which pushed her back into his Chemistry classes. He always addressed his students as his child, she remembered. “How is everyone in your family?” she asked. He smiled at her for the first time and said “I believe you all are doing good”.

She looked at him puzzled. He smiled again and said, ” I have to go now”. She still didn’t understand him. He turned around slowly and started walking. Suddenly he stopped and turned around, “Nishta, my child, you still weak at Chemistry?”. He smiled at her. She was surprised.

Before she could answer, he turned and started walking. She wanted to tell him that she is a Chemistry Professor now but her voice barely came out. All she could murmur was “He recognised me”. She stood there looking at him as he walked into the crowd.

Back in the car, driver asked her “To the club?”. “Home”, she said.

A long stretch of blissful silence got interrupted by her driver’s murmur, “….Poor man! He is always like this after he lost his house & family in a fire. Dresses up and walks through the the market all day till someone feeds him. He sleeps in our Mandir…..”. “Turn back”, she said it too loud that car came to a halt, immediately.

…I will leave you here; let your imagination finish this story. Remember your favorite teacher/professor, remember their classes, imagine you in ‘her’ shoes, what would you do?

More importantly, what have you done for them; those who have helped you fill your pages of yesterday? What have you done for them?…

I should thank my friend Vivek Jhorar for introducing me to the school at Mandi gaon (gaon means village). Run by Shibu & his wife this school is a family effort to bring some change to the lives of few under privileged kids of a slum.

the slum @ Mandi gaon (village)

Jhorar once asked me to help him bring some kids to the annual event of his dance school (Thump India). That is how i met Shibu & his students. Kids of various age with torn clothes waited for me there & here i was thinking that world is unfair with me!

The evening went well with the kids awed by the dance performance of Thump students. They couldn’t stop talking about it even after we reached gaon. For them, what they experienced was unique and different; which we might describe as ‘just another event’! 

That night i wondered whether they would ever experience another such event. The answer was difficult to find from the probabilities my logic put forth.

Few weeks of hectic travel & work stopped my stream of thoughts into wandering towards Mandi. But on 10th of August, my brain put forth an interesting thought – why not inspire them with what they aspire. Thus on 11th August, i screened a movie for few kids at their ‘so called’ school in my tiny laptop screen.

what they call – the school! – became our luxurious theatre

My first choice was Lion King (one of my favourites). But then i realised it would be a bad choice for those barely literate little critics. My objective was simple, since i couldn’t help them with money, i rather add value in their tough life with some momentary luxury.

Shibu & his students @ our grand screening

With Shibu’s approval, i screened ‘I am Kalam’ for the kids on that beautiful afternoon. What was expected as a small crowd (of 10 odd kids) grew into a 20+ congregation of enthusiastic kids from different ethnicity. I felt claustrophobic in that small shack which served as their temple of knowledge. For them it was a movie hall of great comfort.

our little theatre

They shouted and cheered for the little Kalam. Though the movie was a bit slow for their taste, they did enjoy it. It was visible on their faces and i felt accomplished for once. One of them asked me, when i would screen the next movie. I didn’t have an answer!

I never thought i would write this but i want to share with those kids, some more joy. I want them to forget their hardships for few hours, make them feel wanted & important.

the little critics of Mandi gaon watching the movie

I need your help to take it further by sharing me some good (a bit more melodramatic :) ) inspirational Hindi movies. Suggest & share please, i promise you unconditional joy & prayers from those little ones, who are fighting for food when we fight for a lifestyle.

their smiles are precious!

PS: Shibu runs the school under a registered charitable trust but he lacks experience, ideas & funds to take it further. Don’t help him with money, that is secondary, but help him with ideas where he could encourage those kids to attend school regularly. That is his main challenge! Maybe some gifts like books or an old cloth of yours can make a difference – a random thought.

He came into our life in my late teens, those irresponsible days. From a Vice-Chancellor’s bungalow to a middle class small home, it must have been really hard for him. I knew he was weeping within, for his previous owners (his mother, the lady who raise him) did cry when they left him with us. I don’t know why my Dad (i call him Appa) let him in. I intend to ask him one day but now the answer would be obviously biased, by his love for him.

My mother (i call her Amma) never liked dogs till Alfi ‘happened’ to us. It was an additional responsibility for her already burdened life. But, it was her who first bonded with him. Slowly my fear vanished and i got my closest buddy ever, in the form of an Afghan Hound.

an old pic of Alfi & me

Our majestic evening walks, which scared the shit out of every neighbourhood dogs (& the lesser animals called humans) is still fresh in my memory. It was a routine, with him waking me up (when Amma asks him to) licking my face with his lethal weapon called tongue, followed by his beautification process – beauty walk & brushing his long hairs, a task which i hated the most.

Evenings witnessed longer walks and deep conversations. Our weekly bath, he never liked it, with us fighting over the water hose was a sight worth a lifetime. I was his designated caretaker.

He was young, but in dog years, older to me. Hence, he was wiser than me, till we unhooked him from his leash. He then quickly transformed into a kid & played with us, taunting us to catch him and sometimes, rolling us over (including Amma).

He waited for us at the gate in the evenings (because i used to carry home his favourite dinner – 3 kerala paranthas.

One day he even scared Appa when he was shouting at my sister. That is still one of my favourite moments, i never thought anything could scare Appa. Alfi never liked anyone raising voice, even at someone else.

I used to sleep with him at the Veranda, sometimes read to him & at times read with him. There was a stink in his breath, something i got used to when he would climb all over me and lick my face as if its covered with dirt. I can still sense that smell, which is now one of the few things i can recollect about him.

With him around,my family felt safe from anything and everything. With us around him, he felt safe from one thing – the scare of his life, lightning. It was funny to see him trying to hide his bulk under our car when lightning strikes. Those monsoon nights, when lightning happened more than electricity, he hardly let Amma sleep. He was a kid then, who needed us, for protection. Another thing which brought out the puppy in him was a car ride. He would keep is head out in a moving car, his tongue spraying saliva on the pedestrians, for hours.

He was also a terror in the neighbourhood. One day he chased a stray dog into a neighbour’s home. A pregnant lady thought that a Lion had just walked into her house and fainted. Amma had a tough time pacifying the angry family while Alfi slept on the veranda waiting for us to resolve the commotion. You should have seen the ‘cat’ in his dog-self, when Amma scolded him.

But, end of the day, he was more human than us, protecting us, scolding us & dependent on us. During his last years, he adopted a stray dog and wouldn’t let anyone touch it. That moment, we knew, he owned us. Nobody in my family dared to question him. By then, Alfi could understand us and we understood him.

Those days, I was away for my graduation in Delhi. Every time Amma called, i could hear the sadness in her  voice, because of Alfi’s worsening health. Alfi was my childhood (best)buddy and probably the best thing that has happened to me.

He knew everything about me and never told anyone nor blackmailed me like my sister often did. He filled in a lot of gaps in my family. During vacations, we would take this long walk where i would tell him about how college was treating me to the latest crush in my life. He would always stare at me with those understanding nods and then take a pee in the bushes.

After, his adopted paternal stage in his life, we never met. I wish i had, because i would have learned a thing or two from him.

One day Amma called and told me that Alfi won’t be waiting for me anymore. He was old and had a deep wound in his leg which never cured. When i had tried applying medicine the last time we met, he lost control of his animal self, borrowed a chunk of meat from my cheek. He then observed penance by not eating for a day, till i stuffed his favourite paranthas into his mouth.

I never asked my parents whether they forced him to his last sleep. It will be more painful for them than me. I wept like a kid in my hostel bathroom, the only thing i could do. He was so human, he taught me how to love but forgot to teach me how to bid him goodbye. It was him & those caretaker days which instilled into me, the slightest of responsibility & any humanity i own today. He taught me why vulnerability & being emotional is good.

When i see walls, i think of him. I see us standing next to the wall on the edge of the hill near our home, staring down. That is how we spend those lazy evenings. He was as tall as me then (when he stood on his hind legs). Sometimes, he will put one of his front legs on my shoulder and would bring his mouth close to my ears. Seems like he wanted to say something, but he never told it, i still wonder what!

Mom, Alfi & me at the gate

PS: Buy a dog for your kid, unless you want dog years in your retirement life. This is the best way to teach your kid about love & humanity.

Read this amazing post by another blogger, do read if you like dogs or are intrigued by why we like dogs :) :: http://www.devilskidd.blogspot.in/2012/03/cicilykutty.html

I sometimes wonder whether i am getting older by dog years!  This trip is one of the most relaxed trip i ever had, traveling slowly, absorbing the surroundings. Quite contrary to my style of travel – stop only to sleep or eat.

We made the right decision to stop by Rishikesh, in spite of coming here many times, this year. Yesterdays find (Beatles Ashram, thanks to two travellers i meat at German Bakery) has given me another reason to  be back to this place.

The stay at Rishikesh was cheaper & more peaceful than expected. A decent room at dirt cheap price, overlooking Ganga, what more can i ask for 8 hours of rest.

We woke up at 7 in the morning to the heavy rains & cold breeze at Rishikesh. It was beautiful outside, the mist coming down from the sky, enveloping the mountains like two lovers hugging each other after a hundred years of separation. A quick bath and we were on our way to Devprayag. I was sceptical whether we would make it to Devprayag, considering the heavy rains & unconfirmed news of landslides. My fears got stronger when we faced the first hurdle.

A part of road got swept away by a newly formed waterfall, few miles uphill from Rishikesh. I decided to turn back, but Manu wouldn’t listen. He went ahead and checked the depth & flow of the stream. Few minutes later we were on the other side with a relieved me safely inside the car!

pic: Manu examining the depth & flow of the stream

After a pit-stop at Gular for breakfast & an hour long drive, we reached Malakhunti. Though it was almost 9:30 A.M., the mist hadn’t subdued & it covered the bridge, making it barely visible from the road.

Malakhunti is also known as the Marine Drive, around here. A low lying area, next to Ganga, this place can be dangerous due to landslides & falling rocks from the overlooking mountains above it.

Further down (or should i say ‘up’), we reached a point where the road carves its way between a huge boulder & the steep mountain, and turns sharply to the left.

It was a traveller’s delight moment, for all you see is the road between the rocks, leading to the clouds. A lone sadhu stood on the edge, beside a small temple, which apparently is his abode. It was magical & spiritual at the same time.

Mesmerized, we drove further to the next surprise – the most amazing view of River Ganga ever. Muddy brown in colour, she looked more like a snake making its way through the steep valley surrounded by mountains. That view made our travel worth every dime we spent. I wish my photography skills could have justified what we experienced.

Throughout our way, random pit stops revealed the beauty of nature & her rage. We saw remains of what was once a neatly paved road. Travellers will have to thank BRO for making them commutable within hours after the landslides. In fact, they were in better commutable condition than the roads in Gurgaon city.

It took us almost 3 hours to reach Devprayag, thanks to the heavy pilgrim traffic to Hemkund Sahib (a holy destination for Sikh community) and our pit-stops to bow at the beauty of Uttarakhand.

Finally Devprayag appeared in front of us, contrary to what i had expected of a holy city!

the third and final part of this travel note can be read here: http://deejthtraveller.wordpress.com/2012/11/01/prayag-a-journey-to-devprayag/ 

the third part was also published in thealternative.in (read it here): http://thealternative.in/travel/a-journey-to-devprayag/. 

The weekend travel itch happened again, this time its Devprayag!

pic: Devprayag

For a change, this trip was quite unusual compared to my earlier escapades. The final destination was fixed (Devprayag) and the dates as 18th & 19th of August. Beyond that we hardly planned! Also, beast (my four wheel drive) didn’t join us in this trip.

Manu, my co-traveller and me decided to travel on 17th night but we left Gurgaon on 18th morning, blame it on our lazy butts & sleepy eyes. But travel gods were gracious to bless us with rains on our way immediately after Muzaffarnagar. We finally sneaked into Uttarakhand under the cover of heavy rains & a cold breeze.

pic: a majestic ride!

After Muzaffarnagar, you will find kids selling Jamuns (berry) on the roadside. Honestly, we were impressed by their efforts to make pocket money & under the influence of their cute smiles, we ended up buying enough Jamuns to exercise our mouth till we reached Rishikesh.

pic: the Jamun boy

The road felt like a ‘teleport’ taking us back into time. During our trip we encountered countless modes of transportation, some (like the tuk-tuk) are near perfect  examples of an ‘imperfect ingenious invention out of necessity’!

pic: tuk tuk!

pic: and a school-“tonga”-bus (on our way, in Uttar Pradesh)

Pic: Daredevils!

Pit stop for the night happened at Rishikesh. Rishikesh has never been more beautiful. Rain clouds kissed the mountains on the opposite banks. Our plan for Rishikesh was as usual – sit at the German Bakery drinking coffee and staring at the Laxman Jhula & the mighty Ganga flowing underneath it, followed by a walk on the other side of the river till Ram Jhula. This time, Manu wanted to try the famous Chotiwala restaurant at Ram Jhula.

Manu found a great & cheap place to stay for the night near Laxman Jhula – Hotel Damini. For Rs.500 (INR), we got a non-AC room to settle for the night overlooking Ganga.

pic: view from hotel in Rishikesh

Sitting in the balcony, we had to shout at each other, to communicate, over the sound (read music) of the mighty river flowing over its rock bed. AC rooms are available for Rs.1000 (INR). We saw quite a number of hotels on the river bank (one above German Bakery too). But we didn’t want to waste time & money for few hours sleep. A late lunch followed, at Hotel Radhika (at Laxman Jhula, on the main road), highly overpriced, ‘smallest’ portion size & not so good quality food – it was a disappointment.

At German Bakery we met two tourists, two gorgeous ladies from Delhi, doing a weekend escapade. They were searching for a ‘Beatles Ashram’. In spite of my frequent trips to Rishikesh (almost every two months), i have never heard or seen the Beatles Ashram. We also met an Israeli tourist who have been travelling for 4 months in North India.

A quick search on my phone told me that Beatles had been to India for meditation few decades back and stayed at an Ashram which is today known as Beatles Ashram. Today its in ruins and entry is restricted by government (as its a government property now). I also found a video about the same in YouTube. I would try to visit this place while i head back to Delhi or its a sure-visit on my next trip! A big thanks to the girls, they told me about a new place & unknowingly reminded me that ‘you can never know a place enough in a lifetime’!

Both Laxman Jhula & Ram Jhula are narrow bridges across Ganga, suspended on steel cables and sways with the wind. I never run out of excitement when i walk on these bridges. There is an uncertainty in every step – the bridge is never where you anticipate it. Sometimes a little left to where you plan to keep your foot, sometimes a little near! As if its urging me to bring that excitement of uncertainty into my monotonous life-in-a-city.

Rain gods showered again while we headed to Ram Jhula. A guy in a plastic rain-coat came along with rain like a package. For Rs.40 (INR) we got two disposable raincoats to save us from getting drenched. On our way, we saw the Swargashram (from outside).

pic: Manu & his raincoat

There are two Chotiwala’s run by brothers and we chose the one away from Ram Jhula. Manu had his dinner here, which he didn’t enjoy much – all famous restaurants are overhyped :: our conclusion.

pic: in India, do cows pray? (or take shelter in a temple from the rain)

We walked back to our hotel to get ‘high on the flowing music of Ganga’.  Goodnight for the day, an early morning awaits us to continue our journey towards Prayag!

read the second part of the travelogue here: http://wp.me/p102cN-5P

My friend messaged me on Whatsapp, “Dude did you watch any of the ‘cultural shows’ or enjoyed the local ‘delicacy’”. Anyone who has been to Thailand would instantly understand that he is referring to the sex shows & the Russian/Thai prostitutes. To his disappointment i said “No” & he responds back with an annoyed smiley!

For me travel is a mode of education – understanding culture, food, perspectives & nature! Travel with observation teach you a lot from the right way to live to the right way to behave. An organised trip with time bound fun activities like this doesn’t allow you to do that. I am more of a ranger who detest planned expeditions into unknown territories. I prefer unplanned travel, silent moment & casual talks with the residents.

I still remember my impromptu decision to jump out of a moving train between Coimbatore & Bangalore and travel in a truck instead. It gave me a sense of adventure. It generated a curiosity in me, made me learn new things like why a fully loaded truck always prefer to travel on the centre of a road (so that it won’t slip & topple in case of a tyre burst). However insignificant it may sound, these small bits of wisdom can help you at times of trouble.

Travel makes you human! I remember talking to an old sadhu at the banks of river Ganga. He was thrown out of his home for his wealth & today his mind is peaceful with no need of money / shelter to live! I had my dinner with him, the food was salty … or was it my tears running down my cheeks?

For some,travel is to break their routine, to climb a hill, to drink & dance or to click some pictures for his Facebook profile. For some its an option to run away from what the face on a day to day life.

For me, travel is learning…learning to live!

PS: though i wrote it in Pattaya, i couldn’t share it due to limited net access. Hence sharing it now.

I cannot blame them for greed and fame, which force people to achieve things beyond the slightest possibility. One man who came closer to this feat is Mahatma Gandhi. What worked for him was the absence of greed and weapons. What worked for him was his strategy – to conquer the minds!

I want to conquer India.

I want to conquer India with a difference. I want to conquer her soul, her beauty and not her wealth. She is our mother and I respect her like mine. My intentions are pure – to search for that truth which eludes others.

My travel escapades so far has taught me one thing, its not the woods or the sea which attracts me. Neither does the architecture nor the history amuse me. But…

i wrote this post on 23rd June this year, but never finished it then. Today, i found it among the heap of unfinished drafts in my dashboard. Unable to finish it with the same vigor with which i started to write it, i am leaving it incomplete & unedited. For you to imagine the rest, to assume & to find Her soul… to travel.

I always wanted to do the following and wish to do it soon:
1. Live in a slum
2. Meditate deep in a forest
3. Get kidnapped by Maoist
4. Get lost in North-Eastern states
5. Build a University for Orphans & Hospital for Mentally Challenged
6. Be a central government minister
7. Roam India with no baggage
8. Share the above.

So its one down & 7 to go! Do you have any such crazy wish? Share it in the comments, I would like to get inspired.

Varun & Rahul (my co-travellers) had been planning this road trip for quite some time. Frankly, i was sceptical till we drove out of Delhi. Such was the way, that hot May working week treated us. After scores of meetings & PowerPoint presentations, we were not in a condition to drive beyond the next metro pillar. But then, rebellious that we are, we decided to stick to our plan and started on a road trip with no destination, just 30 minutes before the Friday (18th May) ended. All we knew was, we had to climb the mountains and stay away from this hot, horrible climate of Delhi.

Throughout the way, we discussed on our options between Landour (near Mussoorie) to Tehri with no conclusion. By the time we crossed Hrishikesh, we made up our mind for Tehri dam.

New Tehri dam is in Uttarakhand state of India built on the mighty river Bhagirathi. Started in 1978, this dam took nearly 28 years to complete its first stage, swallowing an entire town (Old Tehri) in its making. We were lucky to see the tip of this, once densely populated, town in the centre of reservoir.

Tehri dam was & is also a favourite destination for controversies. Read about it here: http://www.internationalrivers.org/files/attached-files/tehri_dam_fact_sheet.pdf

Our trip uphill was not was not as smooth as we expected. We rode uphill with immense excitement to see one of the biggest dams in the World, right in the lap of Himalayas. A 10 hour bumpy ride on ‘beast’ (that is what i call my vehicle), we reached Chamba by Saturday afternoon. Chamba is the crucial destination for any uphill journey to this side of Uttarakhand, especially if you need to visit the religiously important, trekkers heaven – Gangotri (one of the base for Gaumukh trek) and Yamunotri. You can also drive to Dehradun from here (an option for our next destination).

While climbing uphill, ‘beast’ started over heating and her steering wheel ran at its will. A pit-stop at Chamba for an hour revealed some loose bolts in the wheel alignment. We still had the challenge of engine over heating. Tehri was just 20 kms (approximately) away and we decided to continue our journey.

Our ‘map-man’, Varun, promptly guided us to Tehri where we conveniently ignored the ‘restricted entry’ boards and drove till the gate of Tehri dam project. A close view of the half-filled Tehri dam reservoir, under the blazing Sun, was a sight to remember. The sheer size of the reservoir cradled among the extended Himalayan range took our breath for a moment. Thanks to the hot summer Sun which could vaporize anything in its way, we saw the tip of the submerged Old Tehri town. It was not a mesmerising sight, rather it was a depressing sight to see the lost town. Reminded me of the fact that nothing in this world is ours forever.

We were tired, thirsty & hungry. The last meal which we had was when we took a two hour break at Narendra Nagar near Hrishikesh – one parantha and two ‘can-be-called’ tea each. Always remember, the “pahadi’s’” (a common term used for people who stays in the hilly areas of India) eat less of ‘masala’ (spices) in their food. The tea you get from the roadside vendors are yucky with very less milk and the sugar is more than what you might think of having in a month.

So we decided to head back to Chamba for lunch (a sumptuous one we had!) then decide our future course of road trip. We had a very heavy Non-vegetarian meal at Hotel Gautam (co-ordinates: 30.345186,78.394792 ). The head waiter at the hotel suggested us Uttarkashi – his words picturing the place as something next to heaven. We couldn’t resist the temptation and the ‘map-man’ quickly took his ‘berry the black’ smartphone to chart our way.

Our next destination was 90 kms away, the most exciting part of the whole road trip. When we started our drive down hill, we never expected the grandness that awaited us – my latest crush, Bhagirathi. I feel shamed to say, i never knew Bhagirathi before. But the elegance of this mighty river who carved Her way through the mighty Himalayan mountains gave us Goosebumps. It was ‘love at first sight’ then and now it is a relationship forever.

For those who do not know Bhagirathi like me: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhagirathi_River. She is a mythological goddess from Gaumukh and truly a goddess in this horrible times.

We drove up and down the great mountain range, side by side to this great river. She is drying up, the grandeur loosing day by day. But, Her mighty flow in yesteryear has left an everlasting impression on the great mountains by Her side. The carvings are mightier than any human could or had created. River beaches gleamed under the hot Sun, proudly remembering those foregone days of glory. Every inch of the river bank invited us to rest by Her side – listening to the music of Her flow. The stillness whispered us to forget everything that is today & to remember everything that we forgot from the past. We gave up to the temptation once in a while and rested. The beast too was tired and frequently heated up – till Rahul found a way to control her ‘hotness’ by reducing the rev and slowly climb the mountains in 3rd gear.

There were forest fires every where on our way through the mountains. Mighty red flames glared at us, as if nature was glaring at us with all her vengeance against the destructive urban human race. I believe these fires are controlled ones, to prevent an uncontrolled forest fire, as it was summer and the trees & shrubs were all dry – ideal for a very destructive forest fire. Rahul & Varun still disagree with me. Its still a mystery but what possible explanation can be there for these sporadic fires across 100 kms of mountain range?

We reached our destination by 8 P.M. on Saturday. Exhausted by the constant drive & lack of sleep, we checked into the first decent hotel by the banks. Uttarkashi is a holy stop for pilgrims heading to Gangotri. Road uphill to Gangotri is closed after sunset and opens only at dawn. Though its just 80 kms away, drive uphill to Gangotri is very tricky and dangerous with constant landslides & narrow roads with deep gorges on one side. Not to mention the heavy traffic of pilgrims who suffocate this route.

Uttarkashi is divided by Bhagirathi and surrounded by mountains. Thanks to the flocking pilgrims, this place is now a small town and quite dirty. We didn’t dare to venture into the town. Uttarkashi is famous amongst serious mountaineers for the Nehru Institute of Mountaineering.

We were blessed with a room overlooking Bhagirathi and the pilgrim traffic on the other side of the bank.After a few drinks and a sound sleep, first in two days, we woke up to a pleasant Sunday morning with a cold breeze.

A quick bath & a small fight with the receptionist over the bill (he charged us for additional bed without intimating), we set towards Gangotri. Its then we realized that we had just a little over INR 500 in our pockets, collectively. We frantically searched for an ATM and found a PNB & SBI ATM – both of them without any cash, thanks to the weekend. Travellers in this region are recommended to carry some back-up cash for emergency like this. After a quick analysis of our situation (diesel status & monetary issues) we decided to head to Harsil. Harsil is a famous, less exploited, hill station in Uttarakhand. Its like Ranikhet or Lansdowne (other hill stations in Uttarakhand) with an army cantonment area. We had to cover 60 kms one way and we had diesel for less than 100 kms, inside beast’s belly. We prayed to all the Gods & Goddess in Himalaya’s, that we find a functional ATM on our way, but it was all in vain. After some 20 kms we were convinced that there are no ATM’s further uphill.

We went back to the discussion stage and charted a new destination – Barsu, the base camp for the trek to Dayara Bugyal. ‘Bugyal’ refers to meadow and Dayara Bugyal is a favourite trekker destination. There are multiple treks leading to Dayara; considering our state of exhaustion, we chose the shortest one from Barsu. Locals said that its a 4 km trek which turned out to be a 7 km steep trek. The drive was steep and breath-taking, we spotted snow-clad mountains of Himalaya calling us from a distant which seemed like couple of kilometres away. We cursed our work & wished we had been a bit early to reach here. Next time, it will be the Himalaya’s, we promised to ourselves. For more on Dayara Bugyal: http://www.indiahikes.in/himalayan-treks/dayara-bugyal/

It was almost noon when we reached Barsu. We were worried about our financials and didn’t want to spend too much time uphill. Considering that we need to fuel up ‘beast’, we hardly had any money to stay back in any hotel for the night. We decided to trek uphill for an hour and head back, so that we would be in Uttarkashi by evening.

Suddenly, Varun opened the magic vault in his wallet and showed us two glazy Rs. 500 notes from his reserve cash. Rahul and me were wondering whether to through him downhill or give a bear hug. Nevertheless, we decided to stick onto our plan and trek for an hour.

Barsu is a small village with a GMVN hotel (Garhwal Mandal Vikas Nigam Ltd – local tourist body) and some 50 odd houses. Calm & serene, this is an ideal get-away for the city dwellers. The village had a huge pond with concrete paved roads (too narrow to drive). Villagers here are very helpful and stopped by to give us directions, they even offered us tea & a place to keep our bags. Since we were running out of time, we politely declined the former and accepted the latter. Their attitude brought warmth & energy into our tired & hungry self. But it was not enough for us to climb uphill. Such was our condition after some 400 kms of ride and constant travel, like vagabonds. We almost ran out of breath after an hour of uphill trek. While resting under a tree, Rahul ventured into the terraced farms nearby and found a rock to rest. We followed him to stare at the snow clad mountains, so close yet so far. It was as if the mountains were at the edge of the wheat fields, a leap away.

We rested on the rocks, enjoying very moment of the heavenly atmosphere. None of us talked; i was scared that i may wake up from a dream in the concrete jungle i call home. I so wished i could be there forever, but then who will finance my next trip to the great white mountains?

We rode back straight to Delhi, spending some moments  (on Sunday midnight) at Haridwar, by the Holy Ganga (Bhagirathi becomes Ganga at Devprayag, above Hrishikesh). The stinking water and the crowded ‘ghats’ (steps leading to the river). The stark difference in atmosphere made me realize that nature too is being raped by us, unfortunately there is no strict law to prevent this disaster. By 8 A.M. on Monday, we were back in Delhi. I promised myself that i will return again, this time, trailing Bhagirathi till Gaumukh, come whatever may.

PS: Salutes to BRO (Border Roads Organization) for maintaining the road (NH 34)for the way it is, in spite of numerous landslides, some of which were just a couple of days old.

But this time, it was a 3-dimensional projection with details and incidents that i always choose to overlook or conveniently forget. They all came back with a vengeance, in a murderous fit, that i could barely stand on my feet.

Was that tears or its the water running down on my cheeks? I do not know. All i know is that Chowringhee, from half a century ago, brought fond & detested memories of my past & present.”

I chanced upon Sankar’s Chowringhee (English translation by Arunava Sinha) in a late night party. The host suggested or rather she forced me to read it. And i thank her for this.

I never liked translations, they are stories without(minus) narration. Narration is one of the key essence of any story as without a good narration, a story told is better unheard. Translations often loose the passion with which the author speak. Here Arunava Sinha has done a beautiful job. Incidentally my first English novel (i read) is Hotel by Arthur Hailey. {Surprisingly Chowringhee was written much before Hotel}

Hotel had made me create a framework of how Chowringhee would sound like. But i was surprised by the way it turned out. In plain simple language, Chowringhee  spoke to me about hardships, affairs & the harshness of a world i am loosely connected. A Hotel Management graduate (who got lured to this industry just like Sata Bose) and starting his introduction to English literature by Hotel, i think readers can trust my opinion on Chowringhee.

Its the language (narration) that attracted me to this novel. I always enjoyed reading simple, plain narrations where reader could exercise his brain on the morale and unwritten lines of the story than deciphering the sentences. Chowringhee is definitely one of them and i believe Arunava Sinha should receive a generous part of this compliment.

Then comes the plot; I wouldn’t typecast it as a novel on the inner lives of hoteliers (people who work in a hotel). Rather it speaks about lives of two strata of this society (the privileged & the people who fight for their privileges). With my brief stint of working in hotels & having many friends who still work in this industry, i have often come across or heard about people like Mr. & Mrs. Pakrashi or Phokla Chatterjee and even likes of Sata Bose or Nityahari & Gomez. The outlook of Gomez towards music & Mozart, the passion which he hides in his every day life, is there in every one of us. So is Nityahari, the linen man, who condemns his way of living at every possible moment when we meet him. A well structured plot, Chowringhee  never tires you, every moment has a new story – after all a hotel never runs out of new characters called guests.

Now comes the most important part for me to love or dislike a book – the purpose. Some spread a moral, some advise us but this book helps us to think, to peek into the past & present. After reading 250 odd pages into the story, my mind was touched by ‘Connie the Woman’ who was the weakness for many a men’s lust, but one man’s love. I still do not know whether Lamberta loves her but from what i have read till now, he cares for her.

Phokla crying over the drunkard that he has become & Karabi Guha’s silent laments on her tragic life – all these incidents provokes thoughts that may not create a pleasant mind for you. But they will definitely bring the humanity in you (for some moments at the least). In my case, i have seen many such life and being the emotional catastrophe that i am, all i could do was take a 30 minutes shower at 3 in the morning.

Some 150 odd pages is waiting for me and i believe i am going to enjoy this read. I categorize this as a good read.

While searching for a cover picture to this post, i found this useful link where Sankar speaks about the inspirations behind this novel – at the launch of the English translation: http://twocircles.net/2008aug21/behind_scenes_stories_shankars_iconic_novel_chowringhee.html

Haridwar:

The (holy) city of Haridwar is a religiously important destination for Hindu travellers (pilgrims) across India. Considered as the entrance of river Ganga into the plains, its also know as Gangadwar. Haridwar is constructed around the river Ganges (as Ganga is known in English) with multitude of ashrams & temples on the banks of the river.

Click here for the official website of Haridwar.

My biggest mistake for the day was to ride through Hairdwar’s main bazaar road (i forgot to note the name). ‘The beast’ occupied most of the available road, left aside by the numerous pilgrims & locals who were flooding the street. The crowd was not a surprise considering the spiritual importance of this town in the Hindu mythological map. A quick stop at Har-ki-paudi was next in our amoebic tour plan. Few snaps of the crowded ‘ghat’ (meaning: a fleet of steps leading to a water body), we set of for Hrishikesh. A quick brunch and some 20 kms of driving, we reached Hrishikesh 30 mins late for the first rafting trip. Manu decided to raft while i stayed back at Lakshman Jhula for some quiet moments with my self.

Hrishikesh – history

Rishikesh means, Lord of the senses – indicating Lord Vishnu. They say he appeared here to Raibhya rishi’s (monk’s) prayers. Also, Lord Ram – an incarnation of Lord Vishnu stayed here to repent his killing Ravana. I was more interested in the second story as it says about the God who observed penance for killing his enemy! – something to invest your precious thoughts on.

During my last trip to Hrishikesh, i had my share of adventure & fun with rafting and trekking. This time, i was searching for something else – something which i never knew or found. Thanks to Rahul, my fellow traveller during my last trip, i knew the right place to spend the next 4 hours waiting for Manu. By the side of Lakshman Jhula (Lakshman bridge – where Lakshman, brother of Lord Ram, crossed River Ganges on a jute rope bridge),there is this German Bakery flocked with foreigners more than Indians. Some coffee, a ‘beedi’ borrowed from a lady (an Austrian staying at an Yoga Ashram near by) and a book was my secret combination to unlock the 4 hours in 4 minutes.

During the time i spend at German Bakery, i spend some time observing the people around me. As expected, a large part of them were tourists – both domestic & international. Everything around them got captured in their compact camera. Many of the domestic tourists looked like monkeys while climbing the railings of the bridge to get their picture clicked. Only the monkeys were too smart to ask for (and sometimes snatch) food in return for their pictures. Majority of the international tourists had beads & vermilions on them. Most of them were here in search of peace or relief from some bodily pain. Later I came to know that international tourists attending Yoga & spiritual classes is a multi-million dollar business here. Me and the Austrian lady who shared the table kept looking at the crowd for a long time.

Just as i started reading my book again, a curious incident made the people around me laugh loudly. I looked in the direction of their stare to see a very interesting sight which made me laugh for the first time in many days.

The Matador Monkey & the Lakshman Jhula bull fight

Humans, honking two-wheelers and Holy Cows roamed on the narrow Lakshman Jhula. Atop the the railings & cables holding the bridge, there were a pack of monkeys displaying their gymnastic skills. Sometimes begging and sometimes snatching food from the travellers around the bridge, they spend their time with more fun than most of us. Its pure ill fate of our poor hero (of the incident), a black cow, to cross the jhula (bridge) at the precise moment when the ‘matador’ monkey (the villain of the scene) was looking for some fun. In a moment, the monkey was atop the cow, holding onto the visibly irate cow. Our poor ‘holy cow’ (Cow is sacred in Hindu mythology) tried its luck to shake the villain off her body in vain. In this attempt, the cow almost rammed into the tourists attempting to cross the narrow bridge amidst this chaos. But the monkey, with its arms & legs spread apart, held on to the angry cow with ease. This ‘bull fight’ went on for few minutes with the cow trying hard to shake off the monkey. Honking of scooters & howling of the scared tourists added spice to this curious incident. After couple of minutes, the monkey leapt on to the railing of the bridge, far from the reach of the mad cow & stared at us, as if he just woke up from his meditation. It was a rare view – a natural bull fight on a narrow Lakshman Jhula.

Manu was back from his rafting trip, all excited and exhausted. I was surprised, as usual, by his energy levels. Last time i did rafting, my friends and me literally crawled to the hotel and today, Manu was running around like a 6 year old on his first visit to the beach.

A quick lunch and we were off to our next destination – Mussoorie. About this leg of the trip, i shall write some other day. Till then, Bon Voyage!

You may find more information here:

1. http://bhuwanchand.wordpress.com/2012/05/26/the-long-and-short-of-a-mini-vacation-at-haridwar/
2. http://amazinghimalaya.wordpress.com/2012/04/29/haridwar-gateway-to-god/
3. http://posteritythings.wordpress.com/2012/05/05/tales-from-my-backpacking-trip-day-2/

Night 1 – by the mystic mother:

Six hours of drive from Delhi, on an arguably amazing road, we reached Haridwar on 8th March (11:30 P.M. precisely). The banks of Ganges has been my obsession from my maiden Road-trip in November, 2010. Then and today, the mystical waters of Goddess Ganga played one of the world’s most beautiful hymn – the rhythm of her flow. Manu (my fellow traveller) and me sat by her side and enjoyed the mighty cold wind and the musical notes of water splashing on the banks; there was no human soul till our eyes could reach.

We took the Muzaffarnagar route, though i would recommend the road by Ganges Canal to Roorkee (click here) for a scenic ride. The ride was smooth, thanks to a well maintained road (except for a small patch between Musaffarnagar & Roorkee). But our ride, ‘the beast’, is meant for high-lands and not highways. Slow speed and bumpy rides (thanks to the heavy tires) ensured that we are tired by the time we reached Haridwar.

After, enjoying the cold wind by the banks of Ganges, it was time for us to search a room for the night. Manu took the initiative as always to do the recce. A decent room worth Rs.600/- waited for us on Haridwar – Hrishikesh road, though i am sure you can find a better place with a little bit more search. Ideally, i would recommend you to visit Haridwar on weekdays as the tariff for rooms are cheaper and the city is less crowded (the same room was for almost double the cost on the following Saturday night). The sight of bed was next to heaven after the ‘rocking’ ride on beast; moments later i was snoring my way into the night.

to be continued …

Read the article here: http://www.mediabistro.com/alltwitter/the-us-has-the-most-twitter-users-but-the-netherlands-is-more-active-stats_b18172?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+twittercism+%28Twittercism%29

By far United States is leading the list with maximum number of twitter users followed by Brazil and Japan. India apparently is not mentioned on the basis of twitterati presence. So I safely assume that 1/6th of the global population hasn’t contributed much to this part of Social Media.

Also, its surprising that Japan, with its ‘world famous’ work culture, is ranking so high on twitter usage – very unlikely of people who do not socialize while at work. A twitter friend recently told that twitter started as a mobile application. Has this something to do with higher penetration of smartphones in Japan?

But the real reason behind this post is this:

Surprisingly, India is also way behind the global average of 27% of people who have tweeted at-least once between September and December. Which means, there is a huge amount of people who join twitter and a similar amount of people who leave twitter in India. Why?

My thoughts:

1. The limited understanding about micro-blogging by Indian internet users.
2. The limitation of 140 words doesn’t allow people to communicate their thoughts. We are educated from childhood to communicate with customary greeting lines, followed by long, sophisticated sentences.
3. Less mobile internet users compared to developed economies.
4. Twitter’s negligence of Indian market.

All the above reasons may or may not be true, but one reason do stand: “Apart from ranting or stalking, why should someone use twitter?”. Sharing useful information might be a possible answer but in-spite of a carefully chosen ‘following’ list, my time-line has less of useful information and more of crib-tweets (as i would like to address the abusive/ranting tweets).

Whatever might be the reason, i am not sure of how far twitter shall survive in India, especially with the Facebook ‘subscribe’ function and Google ‘Circle’ feature gaining more prominence.

What do you think?

1. Why is twitter unable to engage Indian Social Media users like Facebook/Orkut (did)?
2. Will twitter survive? What is twitter’s future in India?

Awaiting your thoughts on this…

PS: I enjoy tweeting, both crib-tweets and useful ones. My reason to stay on twitter is the fact that it has and is giving me lot of new friends & networking options.

What’s your resolution for 2012? If you don’t have any, i have a suggestion; do some make-up

Best regards,
@deejTHtraveller

——————————————————————–

PS: please find below some possible make-up options #IMHO.

1. Notifications:
   If you are just a micro-blog then why do you have the DM facility. Well, if you are a social networking site you need to have a DM option for sure.

   But the thumb rule for a social networking site is to facilitate. And your DM option is crippled to facilitate communication!

   The major challenge is that i do not know when i get a DM. You should either have a notification counter like Google+ or Facebook on the menu-bar for easier access to messages. Or you show DM’s on our TL. I have missed DM’s which had an urgent nature because i didn’t want to leave my TL and check messages. People are now forced to tweet “Check DM” which of course do not help maintain the secrecy of a DM.

   Imagine my girlfriend messaging me our plans to elope and then her spying father getting the alert tweet “Check DM” on my timeline  

   

2. Lists:
   Your ‘list’ feature is a beautiful option to organise my timeline which otherwise is overcrowded. Useful tweets are lost amongst tweets from the crack-heads who are ‘forced’ to tweet only 100 tweets per hour (alas i cannot stop following them because they are my friends/clients).

   With lists i could categorize them and follow people efficiently. But, lists would have been more effective if you had given the option to view multiple lists (timelines) in a single screen. They could be parallelly placed timelines to each other for each lists. Saves my time and effort.

   (disclaimer: this might not be a brilliant idea for those who have 100’s of lists. But, a normal user like me would love to have all in one screen)

   
   (sorry for the poor work on pic, you know i am too good at this #disclaimer )

3. Search:
   Please work on your search function. I am unable to search my friends using their names. It would have been great if you could help me with more options like location and gender. #justsaying
4. Export DM’s & tweets:
   Off-late, i realised that you delete old DM’s. But it was too late as i lost some important information (phone number of the girl i was flirting with #notReally ).

   Could you please provide me an option to export my DM’s and tweets (if possible, the mentions too) before you delete it like an angry wife? In case we decide to separate in future, this could be a great memento for me  

That’s it for today, i have always made resolutions but never followed. Prove me that your are better than me #dare.

As a young manager who stepped down to becoming a ‘bald’ executive, i have learned and observed certain issues which i share with many in my age. However i am going to stick on some important (to me) ones in a ‘random’ order:

Communication
With too many gadgets and applications in one’s reach i feel an effective communication would be a major challenge in coming years. With BBM (blackberry messenger) and WhatsApp, people are more confused on the means & ‘language’ of communication. Gone are the days when team building happen over coffee, its a twitter list or Google circle today. But does that bring the intended outcome of teambuilding?

Time
Too many networking options, too many friend groups, too many commitments, too less time. People don’t have time to read a book, or for brisk walk in the park. With nearly 4 social media sites which need status updates to the tab which mocks you every second with a new chat message, your work gets hampered, your personal life is shattered!

Authenticity
When i say authenticity, it covers almost every action, right from a presentation (not the one from slideshare) to your leave application. Everything is a convenient lie to win against inhuman competitors to not-so humble bosses. You are asked to make a report in a week and you Google it in five minutes (on the last day).

Integrity
I thought of writing decision making and ownership, but the root of it is integrity. I bet many would be Googling for the meaning of this term right now. Rest of you can please Google it, as this term is one of the most misunderstood one in the recent history of English language.

Some of the issues…but for me these were the major hurdle my team of six couldn’t resolve. A bitter failure resulted and i learned. I wish to add few more onto this list, but after we conquer the above.

Its not the neatly cut bodies or the murder scenes but the concept (of this series) that is scaring me. The detail in which Dexter’s thoughts and justifications is being conveyed in the series can influence sane minds to turn murderous!

Its a well known fact that Movies / TV can influence people. Right from fashion to food, trends are influenced by what we see on the screen (movie/TV/internet). What if some freak get influenced by this series? Given the popularity of this series, i think my reasoning is good to get worried.

I may not be the right person to comment as i haven’t seen the complete series. But to get inspired and become a vigilante, i need not watch the entire series but just few episodes.

Another scary perspective is: what makes such series so popular? Are we going back to the stone age civilization where survival is the only rule?

“Swara raga ganga pravahame…”

This track is quite famous among many malayali’s and is considered a classic. I have another reason to love this track. In this track, a son proves himself to his father and earn his fathers affection & respect. Something I always attempted through-out my childhood!

In fact, even today i do attempt to gain his love & respect. Strangely, the style of the attempt changed from silence & being studious to being vocal & rebel over these years. Funny way of maturing, isn’t it? Every time i listen to this track, i realise why i love this track – it simply explains this nomadism in me.

Last week, i brutally murdered my conscience, something which i always treasured along with my integrity. I never had a night with so many ups and downs. I never realised that i would be a murderer when i planned a special birthday for a special friend. After we cut the cake, we roamed around Delhi the way we used to, few years back. We were all happy, all five of us.

How i killed myself: After a sumptuous dinner at pandara road after midnight, we were returning via India gate to drop our friends, home. I was sitting behind the driving seat in the rear. I saw a small sedan taking a sharp left in front of us (some 50 meters away), a small blue and white bundle flew out of the right side of the car. The car stopped for a moment and then sped away. I thought it was crazy for them to throw waste near the Rajpath intersection, on the road circling India Gate. Evidently my friends didn’t see this as they were engrossed in some conversation.

As we neared the packet, we realised its an old man. He was still lying in the centre of the road and some dogs rushed towards him, barking. I told my friends what i saw and they denied seeing something like that. My mind said what i saw was true. One of my friends told us about how he was trapped while helping a drunkard off the street. He suggested that this was a drunkard and we drove past him. I was a fool to try believe in what he said and kept silent. Maybe i was worried that we might get into trouble with police if we tried getting help. i definitely didn’t want to spoil my friends birthday. But the fact is i did believe my eyes and I was scared to admit.

I pity myself for the lack of courage to ask my friends for help. After few moments, i realised that he was lying in the middle of a road, and might get killed by the next vehicle passing through that road. I was such a shit that i couldn’t help my self to open my mouth. All horrible thoughts of that old man getting killed because of  my keeping silent is killing me, even today. Later in the night i even fought with my friends over nothing.

Later i returned to India gate, hoping that i will find the man there. He was not there. I don’t know whether he is dead or was saved by humans, but i know for sure that i killed the last of humanity that was left in me. I am unable to look into a mirror for i see a murderer. Sleep evades me. I tried being normal, but i can’t. I had to drink alcohol till i went senseless to sleep yesterday.

I never speak of my dreams to anyone. Its not just the usual dreams of being rich and living like a king. I dreamed of being a politician and change the world or sometimes i was a lawyer fighting for the poor. Some days, i created a university for the poor orphans who never got a fair chance to live. But now i can’t dream again because they are not me. How can i, somebody who didn’t stand up when someone needed me, even dream of changing their world. I feel like a worthless piece of meat.

I wish i had gone to church often. Maybe a confession to the priest could have made my heart lighter. I haven’t been to a church for years so i don’t think that’s going to change my condition a bit. I have no clue on what to do, except than to confess here.

Past few weeks have been a torment for me as a consumer. Self, a marketing professional in an MNC couldn’t comprehend the level to which many MNC’s has stooped, thanks to the loose regulations by our elected government. This post is an outrage against this atrocities in a democratic country.

My Culprit 1: Vodafone.
I am a loyal user of Vodafone from the day i joined my job in Chennai. It was by chance that Vodafone provided maximum network in the places i lived and hence lack of choice made me opt this telephone service provider. But from day one i have been facing multiple issues:

1. In spite of an active DND service, i received spam messages from many retailers and real estate agents. When government started regulating the SMS marketing campaigns i had an outburst of joy, but again it was short in this democratically corrupt country. I still receive spam messages with my complaints in vain.
2. I am supposed to receive my bills by post which has stopped since May, 2011. In spite of many repeated complaints i am yet to get a resolution. As of today, 6 months have passed without any resolution.
3. Off-late, my calls are dropping, even with various cell-phones that i tried with, show full signal strength. Of-course this time i am not complaining as its an utter waste of time. 
4. After each issue, i approach the call centre. Vodafone has a fully equipped Customer Support team at Okhla; their specialisation is in hanging calls or keeping your  call on prolonged hold. For reasons other than mine, if I attempt approaching customer support for more than a designated number, i am blocked for the next 14 (i guess) days to call Customer Support. Isn’t that a wonderful customer ‘support’?

So, i think of using the number portability option available for Indian consumers. After discussing with my friends i understand that it is another means to waste my time as Telecom service providers are racing against each other to provide shoddy service. A friend of mine has send over 50 emails to Airtel for a solution to his disappeared bills – you may please guess the response. My next culprit is also a classic example.

My Culprit 2: MTS
After much thought, i decide to dump my smart phone and opt for a netbook. As a gesture, Spice retail gives me the option of internet connectivity using MTS as the service provider. Since it was an offer and i was running short of time, i oblige to the salesperson. From then till date, i have never had internet access to my satisfaction. I always opted for the best plan with unlimited usage and highest speed which they provide – 3.1Mbps. Surprisingly, i have never experienced speed anywhere near 3.1 Mbps till date, but have definitely experienced speed equivalent to ‘zero’ almost always.

As a responsible consumer i call MTS Customer Support and request for a resolution. Their answer: “You have used more than few GB of data transfer, how can you say there is no speed?”. The idiot who never even noticed the time consumed in downloading the data was more of a pain in the ass than a solution provider. So i request him to connect me to his supervisor. After some half an hour of holding my call, it suddenly dawns on him that he doesn’t have a supervisor in the shift. He promises a call back from his supervisor and i receive a call the next day from an illiterate technician.

After my repeated attempts to explain the issues, i give up. I ask him to call me at night so that i can spare more time for him, which he plainly refuses. So we conclude on a mutually acceptable time as between 6 P.M. – 7 P.M. Till date, i have received numerous calls, none of them on the agreed time but on a carefully chosen time, when i am in a meeting or while travelling. Each call is followed by an SMS which says my issue has been resolved to my surprise.

I have lost hope and still use this darn solution, because i do not have an option. Its all the same at the other side of the river.

My Culprit 3:
Bluedart or DHL has been my courier choice for a long time. I understand that its human to err, hence, in spite of many mistakes and issues, i still use their services. Last month, i utilise their service for my organisation to deliver the products which we were launching in Bangalore. Thankfully, we received the product after around 7 days – they by mistake delivered the product at a different location. The error is understandable in spite of the embarrassment we went through. But what i cannot accept is that they took 7 days to recover it from the other organisation!

Meanwhile i was supposed to receive a credit card by Bluedart which they attempted to deliver at my home in office hours on 2nd of this month. They failed, obviously. After around 7 days, i call up Bluedart for my courier, they apologise for not calling me or attempting to deliver it in my office address which was also mentioned in the courier. So i reconcile and intimate that i will be waiting for them the next day till noon, at my home address. This was after i gave them an option of counter pick-up which they denied. The next day, i call them again to reconfirm the same and they deny having committed to get the courier delivered before noon.

I ask for the lady whom i spoke to and i was directed to 5 different girls who asks for my waybill number and expects me to patiently explain the issue again and again in the same call, that too after long holds. I lost my patience and played a dirty game. I called up Bluedart again and introduced myself as a journalist and explained that i have faced this issue and i am going to write about it in the newspaper. Simultaneously i shoot an email to their marketing mail id. Within minutes i receive calls from their end and bingo, my courier is delivered at the time and place i asked for, that too, with confirmation calls and follow up calls every few minutes. It as followed by two apology emails.

Why? Why do these MNC’s torment common man like me till i threaten a case or play foul? I blame this on the loose regulators (government organisations) who are busy in selling (and stealing) business opportunities but forgets to create a minimum set of service levels to operate/provide service. Countries like US and UK provides free trial period for consumer electronics and in India, a broken down system under warranty needs months to get replaced. Yet you blame us consumers for buying goods from grey/black market; at least they provide us service and  resolve our issues on time.

Friends, i am a victim, so are many whom i know. So i have decided to fight by learning my (consumer) rights and ask for more if necessary. Do you dare to question this process is the question! What say folks?

PS: I hope i can publish this post on time, thanks to MTS data card my internet is running like a snail.

I was quite young when ‘the superstar’ mania spread across the four states of Southern-India. The style, the dialogue delivery, in-fact every minute detail like the style of his shades were ardently followed and imitated by many – young and old. For you puzzled minds, i was puzzled too, then.

I never understood why people liked his acting so much when his actions were nothing but impossible. Naturally, being a kid with no responsibilities or worldly worries, i couldn’t comprehend the necessity of his presence.

Quite some years later, during the first years of my career, i ventured into Chennai to work as a salesman for 18 months. Life was far different from those young days. With a meagre pay and a living standard to maintain, i had moments of torment which even made me think about the possibilities of suicide. I saw no success in the horizon but just accumulating debts and the downside of my life. With desperation at every moment of my life, i decided to hide from those saddening thoughts by keeping myself occupied. A major portion of my life was at the store floor, along with my friends and well-wishers. But the troublesome nights were a worry.Those lonely nights in a 48 sq. ft. room with a snoring room partner!

Maybe my roomie wasn’t always snoring at night. He sensed my worries and asked me to join him for a movie. So we head to watch a Tamil movie, watching it from the bench (the first row from the screen). 2 hours into the movie, i suddenly realised i was a different person. I was laughing and hooting along with some commoners who might be the one who cleans the mall i work in. A sense of reality dawned on me that they, like me, are hiding on the first bench of that theatre, running away from their life’s problems for 3 hours.

Everyone over there knew that unless you win a lottery or breathe your last breath, these troubles are not going to pass by. For ‘us’, these three hours where those moments which my friends call – the moment of trance. Not just the moment of trance but also the moment to rekindle our aspirations.

The time when ‘the superstar’ fights against all odds and wins over the bad is just a symbolisation of our hopes. They may not happen in our lifetime – a solution to our problems – but we now have a hope, a role model, a visualisation of our dreams to success.

That is what ‘the superstar’ is all about. Hopes and dreams of a better tomorrow. A victory which may hardly come our way is a less attractive goal, but with an encouragement to keep us fighting through our miserable lives is definitely a fuel. There were many amazing actors who made us cry and laugh with their acting skills, enacting the essence of our day to day life, but there aren’t many who enacted our dreams and asked us to fight for it.

This is what ‘the superstar’ is to the majority of the South-Indian population (the commoner, the poor). That is why he is ‘the superstar’ – the good against the evil, our hopes, my dream!

When i entered the Urban Cafe talk (almost an hour and a half late), it was almost near its end and Garima was summarizing the talk. All that was left for me was to talk about what could we do to create a more safer environment for the ‘suppressed gender’ travelling in Delhi metro. With this blog i intend to put my views for your reading prosecution.

I am not Shobha De, neither am I the head of any Khap in Haryana. But, I have a 22 year old sister and I share the concern of any other brother over his sister’s safety. Over these years, this thought has been more worrying than ever.

Coming back to the topic of Urban Cafe, ‘Are women safe in Delhi metro?’. Well, I believe the term safety is misused here. Safety is a condition of being protected. Protected from any unlikely danger or harm – not just men. It is a preventive measure against all likely harm which can / may most unlikely happen. In that event, i would say both men and women are safe in Delhi metro, from any unlikely incident of accidents (thanks to the high quality preventive measures). Both gender is safe from any harm by a human being as well. Here, though reasonably debatable, i believe we should thank the minimum time interval between two stations and well-lit, remotely monitored stations. We should also thank the terrorists, for the fear of an attack has ensured many military personnel inside the stations .

However, the emphasis here is on safety of women from men, or more specifically male molesters. I believe it is more safe a mode of transportation than other existing ones. I used the comparative adjective ‘more’ because a perfectly safe atmosphere is un-achievable. Unless of course we are all some zombie creatures with no mind / emotions of our own.

I did dare to say more safe because of the following reasons:

1. Ambience – well lit and neat atmosphere: Safety is again a state of mind. As Natya pointed out in the concluding talk, its the female gender who should take repulsive action against any indecent advances from an opposite gender. In majority of the so called unsafe situations, such an action – a shout or a kick – can control the situation and make it safe. So, what matters is your presence of mind and the right ambience encourages it. Most of us wouldn’t dare to question unethical or immoral actions in a dark alley. But the chances of you raising your voice is high in a busy street.
2. Co-passengers at all points of time: All males are not female molesters! In fact majority of them don’t dare to because of their sane and social mind. Not just that they don’t harm a female, they will dare stand up against any threatening action on a fellow passenger in the society.
3. High level of security: I dare not say much more on the need of this but would like to point out that no DTC bus or an auto-rickshaw have one of those Closed Circuit Camera or a BSF constable in/near it.
4. Miscellaneous: Here, the minimum time between stations and the intercom facility to talk with the train-driver are many of such small safety measures that i would like to bring to your notice.

So having voiced my points in support that Delhi metro is safer than its alternatives, I now post-mortem two major debatable topics that aroused in the conversation:

• Are the existing measures like reserved coaches for ladies the right step towards safety?

No. As I did mention earlier, safety has got more to do with your mind than with the precautionary actions. The existing orthodox steps like segregating coaches on gender basis do not educate women to hold their presence of mind in any unwanted and unwarranted situation. We are creating a myth of safety by drawing a ‘lakshman rekha’. Todays ‘Ravan’ are not turned away by any rule when they intent to break another.

My reasoning is quite simple, if you do not familiarise women amongst men as another human being and instead give them the status of an un-attainable endangered species, you are cultivating lust. A student from a Coed education system (with both gender in same class) is more comfortable with the opposite gender and sees them as a classmate/friend than a student from single sex education system.

• Are the safety measures enough or more required? If so what?

As I have pointed out earlier, safety is just a precaution and no precaution is enough as there is no perfect situation – both perfectly safe or surely unsafe.

However, currently the metro trains are safer but with great scope of improvements. As Nandita pointed out, we need mobile network connectivity (another factor which can contribute like the ambience) in underground metro tracks and we need to put check on drunkards and anti-social elements entering this transportation system. A better feeder bus service at metro stations can make the almost-deserted-at-night metro stations more safer.

• How can we transfer this safe environment in a metro train to areas around the metro tracks?

Well, i don’t have an answer for this. I leave this to be answered by you…

All i know is that this sense of being safe in a metro will definitely impact civilisation around metro tracks in a positive manner, in due course of time.

Over years, i have heard people say ‘ _______made my day’, Does that mean that something good that happened to you in the morning determines your success for the day?

If so (and i believe it will) Delhi Metro can influence safety conditions for people around the metro track because it boosts confidence.

More over infrastructure like means of commutation and communication has always influenced man-kind in our history, like the invention of wheel or telephone. Also, please do note that the latter (telephone) while spreading good news and happiness, is also used to spread rumours and sad news. So there is again a concern .

• What can we do towards safety for women in Delhi metro?

I always believed in an offensive action against a defensive step in such cases. I recommend we educate people on etiquettes and respect (to the opposite gender , both male and female). We need to induce conversations & networking in a train, make people express empathy like vacating a seat for a person in need. We should also congratulate people who stand up and express good-manners. And we should do that in the open for others to see and follow.

The wagons for doing such activities should be innovative and should attract attention of the masses. Hence, all the above should be done in an organised manner for an effective change towards a safer environment.

This is just a thought by somebody who used metro for some 6 years as his major means of transportation.

disclaimer: this is my thoughts and i understand that you may have contradictory opinions. I respect your views and would like to hear from you. You may comment here or mail me the same

Before writing further, a quick question. What is a great evening for you?

Some time back, more precisely in 2004, a ‘well spend’ evening for me was an evening with friends in our college hostel, away from the bathrooms. Yes, away from bathrooms! Ragging, though negligible, was always in the form of washing our seniors clothes. Also, few errands like running to ‘chidiya colony’, to the nearest shops to buy cigarettes and cool-drinks or to girls hostel to pass messages (which we secretly cherished ). An evening without being assigned any such jobs were a great evening for me.

Subsequent two years, the dimension of ‘well spend’ evenings came in the form of alcohol bottles and packets of cigarettes. With a pack of cards, cigarettes and open beer (or alcohol) bottles were blissful evenings. Life has its own ups and downs, those blissful evenings are something which i am not so proud of today.

Later, when i was employed (at a meagre salary) in the humid town of Chennai, a ‘well spend’ evening came in the form of night-outs with Ganesh and first few days of the month at a cafe with a book. Both nights meant no tension of shoe string budgets and happiness.

Years later, till yesterday, when i am alone at my home (though rented but solely occupied by me), a ‘well spend’ evening is a coffee with friends and some chats in social media world of 140 letters.

But, two days back, dimensions of a ‘well spend’ evening changed drastically. A casual meeting with a friend which turned to a dinner with his sister and brother-in-law, makes me rethink of those ‘well spend’ evenings i had. Strangely, the term family and people whom you would refer as relatives meant more to me than those relationship i had till date. An evening with small talks across the dining table and an invisible bonding called blood-relations brought more happiness to me.

I am not sure about what next, neither do i care. For me, i decided to live this moment and these bright ‘well spend’ evenings. One thing is for sure, a ‘well spend evening’ is a constant source of happiness. And this constant source, constantly changes with time!

Few years back, he was just another actor of yesterday. Nobody bothered him and this bothered him heavily. He stared at his manager sitting on the couch beside his lazyboy. She was texting someone with her beautiful, slender fingers. Her fingers…he suddenly refrained his mind from thinking about her.

Door to the caravan opened and his PR agent popped his ugly face inside. “Are you ready?”, he asked. She replied for him, “Yep”. The door opened wide and the journalist stepped in with her photographer. He instantly knew she is a rookie. Her steps and facial expression is shouting out. He has become an expert in learning body language over these years. It has helped him get many contracts in his career and like an icing to the cake, it also helped him lead many beautiful women to his bed at night.

His manager was speaking to the journalist and asked her to sit by the couch. Flash lights from the photographer lit up the dimly lit caravan like lightning strokes in a clouded evening. He raised his hand and motioned the photographer to leave. They are a distraction to his thoughts and clicked at anything and everything, but selects the worst few. In his case, even the worst picture portrays him as the most handsome actor in the tinsel town.

The journalist started asking questions, all usual ones and he mumbled the answers which he has been practising, rather been preaching all these years. He turned his head and stared at her on her next question. “You just regained your number one position after a long gap of 3 years; Do you fear that this will end fast?”. “He was always number one, its just that we have become a bit choosy these days”, his manager helped him out.

She is an average beauty with slender fingers and a long nose. He remembered how she was there during his ups and lows, managing not just his career but also his personal life which shattered with his downfall. She was always with him, day and night, supporting, advising and often succumbing to his carnal desires. He noticed how she used ‘We’ in her last sentence. This is the first time she ever claimed her part in his decisions, at least in front of him.

The journalist went on probing into his personal life and his previous short-term relationship with a very popular actress. He thanked God for the inventor of his most favourite phrase, “No Comments!”. “5 minutes”, his manager announced, looking into her watch. She is always been a time keeper. A perfect choice instead of an expensive limited edition Rolex, he thought. But she was perfect for him, she made love with him so perfectly that, he is addicted to it these days. Addiction is become a necessity, isn’t it?, he thought.

The journalist suddenly switched off her recorder and said, “I know you often hear this, but i am a fan of yours. Not just because of your acting but the way you brave against each downfall and topped the charts with your next movie. You inspired me and surely many more. What drives you? Fame?”. He looked outside through the tainted window between the curtains and so a small gathering waiting for him, outside. He knew the answer but has never confided it to anyone. Nobody would believe him.

The journalist was walking towards the door, not disappointed as his mood swings after escaping from drug addiction is so famous. “Wait”, he said, “I liked your honesty unlike your nasty brothers and sisters who feed on my past and present. Fear…its fear which drives me”. Both the girls looked at him, rather stared at him.

“When i was a young boy, like many famous people say, i was poor. But in my case, i hardly had anything to eat apart from the stale bread, leftover food and uncooked meat from the garbage bins.” Both the girls gave a nasty stare. “One day i fainted on the pavement, people came by and helped me with water and food. Nobody knew who i was? That day i realized that when i die, people wouldn’t recognise me and i will end up in some crematorium or cemetery – maybe next to a street dog or an old beggar”. He paused and looked at the girls. They were pale by his surprising past. He was surprised that the journalist wasn’t happy about the scoop she got. Maybe the best scoop in her career. His shielded past is now becoming a public information.

“I was 14 then and i understood that i have to be famous, by nook or crook” he continued, “Slowly i realised its not my hunger for fame but my fear of not being recognised that made me work harder to what i am today”. “And now?”, the journalist asked like a student asked to her teacher. “Now, i realise that fame is momentary; tomorrow, when i leave this industry i will be conveniently forgotten for a new hero. The show must go on, isn’t it?”. The journalist nodded. “Its not the fame that gives you identity, but relationships. Loved ones near you, the real identity. Something I learned lately”, he looked at his manager, “though a little late, i have decided. This is my last movie. I am retiring from this industry for good and settle down with the girl whom i slept last” he stared at her. He saw her face go pale, of course she wouldn’t have expected this. It wasn’t uncommon for young beautiful assistants to sleep with the actors apart from managing their career.

He slowly looked into the journalists eyes, it shouted surprise and disbelief or was it shock, he didn’t care. He said, “Now i should get ready, i have a set waiting”. The journalist thanked him and left instantly. She has a story to file and it cannot wait for the gossip page in the weekend supplement, she knew. He turned to his manager when they were alone, “Will you marry me?”. She stared at him for a while with tears  in her eyes, tears are strange he thought, they make you cry when you are happy and sad.

“No, i cannot” she said, “I am already married”. He had many shocks in his life, like when he lost the Best Actor Award to his competitor for the role of a dying soldier because he made people laugh when the directors intention was to make them cry. He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t remember what. She suddenly left the caravan. Closing the door behind, she thought, “What an idiot?” She stayed with him because nobody would hire the manager of a failing actor. She never enjoyed sleeping with him, but then she came to this city to act and was fairly good at it. All she meant to do was boost his confidence and bring him back on track, her career was too dependant on his, “but that damn fool…” she almost said that aloud. She hoped that the offer from the other actor is still on, for now she needs to find a new job. She knew him too well and there was a determination in his eyes, he is ending his career. “I never wanted to cheat my husband, ‘He’ was a compromise and now i will have to get laid by another”, she murmured, “what a pathetic life God blessed me with”.

He gulped half a bottle down, rage was eating him alive. “She, that bitch”…the only words that rang in his head. Now that his love is lost, he started fearing again, he will die alone – his alter ego shouted at him. He threw the bottle down, the glass shattered just like his dreams had, a few moments ago. “No, i won’t die alone” he shouted, “I will act again…I will get many more like her…I will teach her a lesson.”

Epilogue:

“Sir, i am coming back to office. You won’t believe the scoop i got, leave a large column in the front page for me” – his answering machine chanted the recording. Mere voice of the reporter brought an erection to the editor of the most reputed gossip paper in the town.

He said to himself, “Whatever she brings, even if its the confession of that idiot actor, she will have to please me to get her name printed in the main paper. These rookies, they will do anything for fame; fuelled by fear that they will loose the race to someone else, he never had problems in getting one to fulfil his desires” – he laughed aloud.

As i see you are interested in knowing what Onam is (from me). Well, with Wikipedia around, it isn’t quiet essential for me to explain what it is and the stories behind it. But still, everyone’s perspective is quite different, so is mine.

To understand Onam, you need to know Kerala. If you look into the map (googling is very easy), Kerala is like a long line slightly thickened at the centre. Even though, scientists would have a more apt reasoning, this small land is born out of the grace by Lord Parasuram (its believed that the three supreme God’s in Hinduism have assumed many ‘avatar’ to maintain the balance of world and destroy evil). Lord Parasuram is one such avatar of Lord Vishnu. Once he has finished his reasons behind the incarnation in human form, he left to far off lands to meditate. On the way, he threw his axe (his weapon) into deep sea. The region between where the axe fell and the mainland rose above sea-level and became Kerala. So it can rightfully be called “Gods own country”!

Many centuries later, Kerala was heavily inhabited by humans. They had a king, Mahabali, who brought prosperity and peace to the kingdom. To remember those golden ages, people still sing songs like:

maveli nadu vaneedum kalam,

manusharellarum onnupole
amodhathode vasikkum kalam
apathangarkkumottillathanum
kallavum illa chathiyumilla
ellolamilla polivachanam
kallapparayum cherunazhiyum
kallatharangal mattonnumilla
adhikal vyadhikalonnumilla
balamaranangal kelppanilla

which tells us how prosperous the country was then, with everyone living as one, with no lies or cheating and with no sickness or child deaths…

Well, one day, the Gods headed by Lord-Indra (who also controls rain apart from leading other Gods) realised that Mahabali has become equally strong and might capture heaven from him. In some stories, Mahabali did defeat God’s and took over all three worlds – Heaven, Earth and Underworld.The Gods approach Lord Vishnu and he assumes his next Avatar ‘Vamana’. Vamana is a ‘Brahmin’ (upper caste) kid and approaches Mahabali. Mahabali, a warrior class and being the king, offers Vamana anything he could give him as a gift for visiting his ‘Yaga’ (prayer). Vamana asks for three foot of space to pray, which Mahabali obliged to.

Apparently, Mahabali’s teacher identifies Lord Vishnu and asks Mahabali to back off from his word. Here comes the best, Mahabali asked for his teachers forgiveness as he could never break his word to Vamana and thereby his honour. His teacher cursed him. Yet Mahabali turned and asked Vamana to go ahead and occupy ‘three foot’ space anywhere in his kingdom (the three worlds).

Vamana grew into huge human being, stepped on earth and heaven in his first two steps and asked Mahabali, where next? The king removed his throne and kneeled before Lord Vamana and asked him to rest His foot on his head.

Vamana didn’t hesitate, and pushed Mahabali into the underworld, where he rules today. The scriptures also says that he is destined to be the next Indra to rule the heaven and will rule underworld (hell) till then. But being such a great king, honest and brave, Lord Vishnu granted him a visit every year to his old kingdom. It is the harvest season during August – September. Onam is the festival welcoming him back!

Epilogue:
I know it is a very fascinating story but for me its like Chanakya’s Arthashastra. It has so many meanings and sense.

1. Honesty and Courage is rewarded, always.
2. Three Gods is a standard principle in almost all religions.
3. Story telling was the art used to pass wisdom (my inference).
4. Every harvest has a festival and a divine story behind it.
5. There is a stability factor which has to be maintained between good and evil.
6. Sura with negative thoughts is Asura and vice versa.
7. This is the celebration of hope, towards prosperity and peace.

Read the article here: http://techcrunch.com/2011/08/26/one-head-at-a-time-dept/

Copyright litigations are never knew. It has happened right from the beginning and is an on-going fight with futile results. I have been hearing it for a long time. Remember the Napster case (1999) and fights against online music sharing? But, it didn’t stop people from sharing music online! In fact, like of Napster multiplied like a virus, so huge is the peer-to-peer sharing networks that nobody can dare to stop or control it.

Apparently, self, a sales and marketing guy in the lowest level is surprised how the big-shots of a huge industry sticks on to the authoritarian style of operations, and a decade old strategy. They refuse to evolve or innovate the business. Big shots like Sony has been in this industry for a while (much longer than my existence in this world). Yet, they fail to understand that business evolves with new mediums? When was the last time you bought a Compact Disc (CD) of your favourite band?

With access of internet, the entire structure of business has changed in last few years. Today people turn to google or facebook for their day to day requirements. Peer recommendation has become the strongest influencing factor in buying behaviour. But, as simple is this fact for us to understand, so hard is it for ‘them’ to understand this, apparently.

But the real question is for how long will they follow this route? They are wasting resources, money and time in a futile effort of fighting against technology and the human tendency to ‘share’. Rather, they should start embracing the trend of e-sharing and monetize it. Imagine a high quality music video with a banner ad, available for download without any copyright issues. Would you download it or go for a peer-to-peer source with high chances of a virus attack… Millions will download the music (of course from the legitimate source) and see the video along with the ad for sure. Imagine the revenue involved. And every time a music file is shared, the revenue increases…Wow!

When you cannot stop it, flow with it! That should ideally be the answer for todays business. Companies are spending millions in justifying themselves and creating goodwill on social media platforms. A facebook fan page is a must for any B-to-C company. But morons that these music companies or their leaders are, they run around suing and creating news. I thinks its just another PR gimmick. Or, some legal executives of some multi-nationals decided to have a vacation at Tokyo, on company expense. I know its a lame reasoning, but i cannot find another reason which can justify such an action, by a bunch of learned and experienced crowd.

Much research and debate has been done on this issue. Let me quote from one of them:

However I am convinced that one should rather concentrate on the notions of copyright, meaning why do we have copyright at all and check whether we can achieve the purposes by less detrimental solutions. Therefore it is not necessary to investigate whether file sharing is a threat to the music industry or not, when we can say, that the current practice of the music industry is anyway out-of-date. Why should one protect old-fashioned business models at high and unnecessary cost? – a very important question which the shareholders of these MNC’s should ask their board of directors.

from Ass. iur. Volker Lehmann’s research paper. (You can read this research paper here: http://www.emle.org/_data/Volker_Lehmann_-_Copyright_in_the_Music_Industry.pdf)

I never wanted to write or criticise this movement, but the thought that precious time and resource is being wasted for nothing is eating into me. I admire Anna for raising his voice and influencing masses. I haven’t seen many, in fact, anyone in the recent future who have influenced so many people at one go. Hats off to that!

Without any question to the purity of your thought or intention, i have just one question – what is corruption?

It just didn’t happen overnight. It is known to be there from early ages which man could think of. Kings and even God’s have bribed to get things working in their favour. The only difference is, then it happened to get wrong things to work and today, you have to bribe for legally right stuff to work as well.

But the question is, like every living organism to live and any system to work, there is a motivating factor. Here the motivating factor is US…our fear and the corrupt us. If a cop flags me down tomorrow, i will have to bribe him, because i do not have the insurance coverage for my car. Nor do i have a pollution clearance or the original copy of my registration certificate. It can amount to a fine of more than Rs. 2000/- or maybe more. So why take the pain, i pay couple of Rs. 100/- notes and save my time and money. What if i don’t? What if i keep all the required documents?

Now some of you might bring up the case of the government offices where its hard for you to get anything working, without greasing. Well, have you heard about a vigilance department? Do you dare to file a case against the corrupt and face any consequence? Here the consequence can be delay or even worse a new law which asks for more documents to get your work done.

I say the system is not corrupted, but we are. We, for whatever personal or actual reasons, have on and on requested and made new rules. These rules have accumulated and have become an impossible pile to understand and thus follow it. And now we are raising voice for a new law, a new system – Get a life people, this can’t solve issues but only waste precious tax money.

If you truly want to end corruption – promise yourself to be a law abiding citizen and then stand upright and boldly question corruption. Don’t be a sissy and think that a new law can check corruption.

PS: Interestingly, day before yesterday, i saw a car with a broken registration plate driving with pro-Lokpal slogans, through the capital. Both the driver and the navigator wore Gandhi caps and had a huge Indian flag on top of the car – clearly demonstrators returning from Ram Lila maidan. They wore no seat belts, jumped red-lights and worse, broke at least three traffic rules on safe-driving. Thank god i have a limited knowledge on traffic rules, else i could have blogged on them as well

The ‘cinema’ walked on a thin line, between a documentary and an art-work, never boring you for the whole 60 minute span. 48^oC was one of the (first, so they claim) largest installation art exhibition in India. It happened in 2008, sponsored by Max Mueller Bhawan – the international cultural arm of German Government. The installation talked about the cultural heritage of the city, with an objective to create awareness and ultimately save them from the shoddy conditions they are in.

If you ask me whether the movie justified the so assumed objective, well not exactly. With some brilliant music score from Sushmit Sen (Indian Ocean fame) and some carefully done editing, it was a treat for your eyes. The documentary also justified the documentation of the event, which was the objective of producing this movie by Max Mueller Bhawan.

However, i am not here to write a review on the documentary, i am too inexperienced for that. I hardly understand the technicality of the same.

My question is why is a documentary created. In a viewer’s perspective, documentaries are like travelogue. They chalk down the history, present and future without any make-up. A director and his crew is like Marco Polo or Ibne Battuta and their team. They document the changes (for good or bad), all facts and no gloss. For historical records and an artistic satisfaction for the team, almost all those brilliant documentaries (i have seen) justifies.

But is that all? Is it just a historical record or an award winning show piece at a film festival. I think documentaries should be made with a new objective – an objective to reach to the masses and make difference. For that, they need to be simple yet artistic. For that they also need to be relevant with a projection of how future would be, if we fail to respond. I miss such cinema’s or artworks with a visibly-hidden message.

They do not ask you to do something but questions you about what you think shall happen if you do not respond. After all, for a change to happen, the masses should initiate and for them to initiate, their ego’s should be pampered such that, everyone should suggest a common solution – a solution which only Einstein would be able to suggest, generally. But again, this is my perspective!

Reference:

1. The movie: The Latent City by Krishnendu Bose
2. The screener: Indian Institute for Human Settlements

1. ‘Rath Yatra’ in Puri, Orissa.
2. ‘Pushkar Mela’, Rajisthan.
3. Ladakh
4. Kashmir Valley
5. A hitch-hiking or a car ride through Seven Sisters – the North East India.
6. Darjeeling on the steam engine.
7. Kolkata (especially the Tram).
8. Benaras.
9. Khajuraho
10. Get lost in Coorg.
11. Sabarmati.
12. Wagah Border – i am doing this in October.
13. Dharamshala.
14. Paudi – Garhwal.
15. Auroville – again, this time i want to live there for few weeks.

This list isn’t going to end…as of now, this is my immediate targets and i intend to achieve it.

Anyone??