It’s not rush hour???

Squirming, wriggling, packed, pushed, nauseated, bruised, comical, sleepy and alert. These are not just some random feeling evoked or remembered but are in fact the feeling experienced in a short span of a simple ten minute ride. Surprising nah? Well apparently not so for the locals here. Their everyday lives start and end the same hence they hardly feel the need to complain. Hmmm I guess some of you would have already guessed what I am talking about.

Recently I got to watch an ad on TV for a popular travel luggage manufacturer, the ad showed a foreigner getting into the local train in Bombay and the hardships he face during his short travel, the way he gets separated from his baggage and both he and the baggage actually undergo very similar treatments in terms of travel and abuse but in the end when he finally gets down he is miraculously reunited with his baggage. Ads like that usually tend to get an exaggerated thought in the minds of people, people who like me are a little pessimistic and quite often than not proclaim,”come on! This isn’t reality”.

Boohooing the very thought even before coming to terms with reality is pretty much the route we take most of the time. Well ever since I came to this city I always wanted to get into the essence of what I thought was the mainstream of Mumbai travel, the local train. Ask any bombayite or rather Mumbaikar as they call themselves now his preferred mode of transportation for commuting in the city and the answer you are bound to receive is the train. The opportunity never actually presented itself until a few days back when a friend of mine suggested that we take the train back from work. Apprehensive I thonk would have defined my thoughts at the very idea. First being the rush hour and secondly the fact that I would have preferred the bus to the train just for the convenience.

Thinking it would not be nice to chicken out on the prospect of experiencing the thrill of the train ride at rush hour, I agree to it and off we walk to the Khar railway station. Procuring a ticket for Rs. 4/- we head to the platform and the electronic display informs us the next train to Andheri is due in five minutes. My friend takes this time to point out a few necessary things to be kept in mind for the travel. He points out that the backpack should be placed up front and not behind you. Pretty soon we are like two pregnant penguins waiting for the train. This again for a few reasons one no one steals from you and two you are assured your belonging are in the train with you while you travel and not experience a different trip for the length of the journey. This piece of advice is taken into consideration as it makes sense. The next dialogue brought out the; what do you mean expression in me. He said that after you board the train turn to the direction and move to the other side of the bogey.

As he was saying this the train rounded the corner and was entering the platform. The train came in packed with at least ten people hanging out of each compartment and I was like okay may be they are wanting to get down. The train halts and the number of people who got down were in the range of hmmm… TWO!!! My friend shouts out get in the train is free. Perplexed by the statement I look transfixed at the compartment which is packed with people. My friend and I push into the already full compartment that is apparently empty to my friend and must say the experience was quite enjoyable. Finally I get to push, stomp, glare, and actually float all at the same time without any complaints from other people. Apparently this kind of a behavior is normal!

Hearing this the only dialogue that came into my head was a line made famous by my favourite comic character Obelix. He kept saying these Romans are crazy!!?!!. Now it was my turn to say these mumbaikars are crazy! No offence meant by what is a guy supposed to think of someone who considers being pushed, stamped and abused normal behaviour?

Once inside the train I try my level best to stay in one place but to no avail. I am literally pushed in the direction I am standing and I must say I am thankful for heading so coz my platform apparently came on the opposite side of the compartment. The only thing I am thankful for right now is that the journey is going to last all of 10 minutes and then it’s time to alight from this compartment that has now come to resemble a tin of sardines. All this while I was conversing with my friend who was standing behind me, upon not hearing from his I turn around only to find a total stranger staring back at me.

God he must have wondered what’s up with this guy! Not seeing my friend anywhere near me I continue on getting pushed to the other side of the compartment and I keep asking the passengers in front of me if they too are getting down at Andheri station! Some of them say yes, some say no. Upon nearing Andheri station the shove from the back increases and I am already heading for the door. To my dismay I look ahead and see that I am headed for disaster as there in front of me right in the middle of my path stood and iron bar separating the doorway into two. I close my eyes knowing of the fate that awaited me but to my surprise I land on the platform jostling for my footing as other passengers from Andheri board the train taking them home.

My first experience in the main artery of Mumbai's commute finally over, all that I can manage with a squeak was it was not rush hour!

Candid conversations of the cities insomniacs…

The chirp of a bird and the incessant cooing of the pigeons are bound to be a wake-up call you’d love to have. Trudging with sleepy eyes and a mind still not fully awake, from the night’s dream and looking for that little ray of the morning sunlight, that will fully awaken to the realization of the new dawn.

Don’t know if this is the same with the million others who dwell in this city that literally never sleep, oft called the New York of India, but then that is the way it starts for me. Donning on track pants and stepping out into the slight morning breeze actually rejuvenates the sleepy grey matter and the customary morning greeting to probably all the building watchmen actually kick starts your day in a weird little way. These greeting mean a lot to these people who their whole lives keep waiting on others and yet we more often than not tend to ignore them.

The mandatory Rs. 2 entrance fee at the gate of the joggers park gains entrance to a kilometer of short conversations. The conversations although short are interesting in a very sneaky kind of way. The conversations actually border on a variety of topics and then more often tend to lean a little towards the personal side as the weekend nears and gets very official on weekdays. Guess you must be wondering what is it that he’s talking about?

Every time you are about to cross a group of people you tend to be part of their conversations. Be it a couple of women in their thirties discussing the next salon they have appointments for or a couple of me in their fifties discussing on the latest merger or acquisition… The collage of these myriad conversations are usually too varied and different that each pair that you pass, it’s more like entering into a part of their lives for a minute or two.

Every day you get to hear a lot of the local gossip, the financial meetings scheduled and the personal problems of people. Coming to think of it the whole scene actually gives you an understanding into the kinds of things that people think. There was an interesting episode of a conversation between two middle aged women. One a career woman and her companion in her late forties. The career woman’s problem was that her son was complaining that she was never in the house when he is back from school and also that he wants her to be at home when he arrives. But the mother also has to think of her career tells him that it would be difficult for her to make it every day but she’ll try. The boy finally says that he will also stay back at friends’ place ad will return only after she has arrived back. This comment took the icing of the cake and the mother stopped staying back at work late and started bringing work back home as it would not only help her to spend time with her son but also that it would enable the son to understand that the mother actually cares about him…

Another interesting conversation to listen to is the decision making ones. The candid suggestion of the person you are walking with is analyzed more and more rigidly and by the end of the walk is over they have each found a solution to the problem. Then there is the usual saas-bahu conversations that are like all other saas-bahu conversations. The uniqueness of this banter is that each one is trying to better the image of her daughter-in-law in the eyes of the other. It’s not the usual complaints but interestingly the merit that are brought to light.

During a walk that takes an hour you come across several such topics and each one is unique in its style, content and context. In a city where you hardly have an interaction with your neighbor or further more have no idea who your neighbor is, such glimpses in to the lives of others actually tend to paint a very small but vivid picture. Portraits that is actually entertaining although they remain in the area of prying. But then I think they are the little pleasures that an insomniac is entitled to, just some candid conversations of fellow insomniacs.

Masked

A phone call the previous night from a very close friend warning me to get myself a mask before coming to Mumbai was not taken seriously. Well I did go enquire at some medical shops only to get turned down saying that they don’t have any masks available. Deciding to take a risk at Mumbai I board the flight and off I go.

Arriving at Mumbai I thought that the warning for a mask was just a joke but landing in Mumbai I actually see everyone wearing a mask and moving around or rather milling around doing their work. Stepping out of the airport and on my ride to my aunt’s place I witness more of such people with masks.

The funniest part was that the masks people were wearing were hilarious in itself… there were people with the original mask the one prescribed, the medical one described as a white H1N1 mask with a yellow opening, then there was the regular surgical masks marked by the traditional green color, then there were the white ones, women with their dupattas and the best one yet, people with a handkerchief around their mouths and noses…

I have since asked a dozen people on their take in the matter and it’s pretty interesting to hear that other people too concur with me, “hygiene is good but some people take it to ridiculous levels”. People keep wearing a handkerchief over their faces trying desperately to protect themselves against the deadly H1N1 virus. Every time I see a person with this over his nose and mouth I wonder hasn’t this person realized that the virus’ that plague our country are on steroids and that will just a hanky or a very flimsy surgical mask meant for maximum protection in a sterilized environment offer adequate protection?

Agreed that personal hygiene is something that will keep the virus at bay but the fact that anything goes to the prevention of getting infected is I think a very farfetched idea. Come to think of it people who actually did not exhibit any of the symptoms after a visit to a very well known hospital actually contracted the virus. Make you wonder is it any use to actually worry about the disease, or is it better to actually get along with our lives taking care of ourselves to the best of our abilities and stop worrying. After returning back from Mumbai and subsequently travelling from Coimbatore to Bangalore by bus provided me with another amusing incident. The guy supposed to be sitting next to me got onto the bus without a mask. After sitting down I notice he puts a dirty handkerchief over his face. The funny part was that the guy nodded off to sleep and after 10 minutes into his siesta the hanky comes undone and he is back to his unprotected state.

Well what use is the hanky now? Guess the other guy didn’t think so as he coolly put back the hanky after an hour of sleeping unprotected!

It sure is funny to see a hundred people in your immediate vicinity all masked up and going about their lives hardly ever noticing the huge gap that has formed in their protective masks… Masked, it sure is.

A tryst with a red dot…

Every big city is familiar to the small red dot that halts the ever busy residents in their cars and no matter what you are driving or what your bumper sticker proclaims you still gotta stand still. The minimum time usually sixty seconds and the maximum can go on to an hour if you are lucky. Many a times a lot of us get frustrated at the very thought of getting stuck in traffic, even I was in the same category but after a lot of such instances I have actually found that I enjoy getting stuck in traffic. Although there are a lot of alternate routes that allow you to cut through the city and negate these traffic signals off late I make it a point to get stuck in it just to watch the world go by.

The way in which a pedestrian crosses the road. Each person with an individual style and stride. Some purposeful, some hesitant, some frightened, some hurried, each person a story in itself. The way in which two wheelers try and squeeze into every available slot with the good intention of being the first across the signal but every once in a while being the cause of the traffic jam.

Stuck in traffic the other day I noticed several amusing things, the first being a young girl with a rag in hand running around and wiping the windshield of any dirt, well think she meant well when she went around doing this but one vehicle owner jumped out of his car as though it was on fire and stopped the girl from touching the windshield with the rag. Guess he must have been the only one sensible enough to understand the harm that would be done to his windshield if the girl wiped it with the cloth already soiled with dirt, grime and a little water. There was another owner who was pleading with the girl not to touch his car but then after the girl adamantly refuses to back off he unhappily parts with a couple of change. Immediately after these hysteric acts your eye gets drawn to another kid in the distance.

The reason why the kid catches your attention is that at a distance he looks very similar to an ape scratching his head while in his other hand he holds a torch and some sunglasses. The left hand over the head is very similar to the actions of King Louie putting a banana peel over Mowgli’s head in the al time classic Jungle Book. Watching him with rapt attention trying to figure out what on earth is this kid up to and suddenly out of no-where appears a couple of other kids mimicking the same action. As the kids draw nearer you see that the kids have in their hand and instrument that looks like a very crude egg beater. Attached to the handle are six thin metal strips, kind of like the one found on metal hair bands, very flexible and with a small round ball at the free end. When you do the up and down movements it basically satisfies two functions scratching and massaging your scalp! In a few seconds the kids move on repeating the motion and they are followed by another batch of two kids who sort of remind you of a walking book stall…

The kids walk past you looking at your eyes and facial expression trying to figure out if you are a prospective buyer. The reason is simple they have about 3 minutes to sell you an item that cost nearly a hundred rupees and wouldn’t want to waste time bargaining with you the whole time, while he can get business a few cars down. The books they have range from a wide variety of subjects. There’s gossip, there’s information, there’s real estate, there’s decorating, there’s ads and finally comics. The choice in titles although not too wide the titles well know and classy. Following the three minute marketing experts comes the lazy bunch you want to make a fast buck without having to move a muscle.

The beggars are the most frustrating of the whole lot. They actually bring down the whole excitement with their lack luster performance and age old ways of irritating you to the core till either you part with a coin or two or growl at them and in a deep baritone voice ask them to move on.

As all this is taking place you also have the icing on the cake the eunuch’s on their round of blessing and advising. Clapping their hand in their trademark way they come and stand next to your vehicle expecting nothing less than a fiver. Perchance you give them a couple of rupees you are in for a bargain session one that is bound to end up with you shelling out more. The reactions to these reincarnated people are all the more hilarious… People lift up their windows; some go past them in the hope of not wanting to explain or rather deny them money. Then there are people who eagerly await their arrival pay them money and get blessed. Many of my friends have several stories each one amusing in its own way and charm. One had his sunglasses taken away used for the short time the signal was red and then returned back, another one has made friends with a lot of eunuchs that they know his car by heart and then there is another who was too busy to attend to one that he showed his pocket they took some money blessed him and went on their way.

By now the traffic light has turned amber and in a few seconds the green light shines signaling the motorists that it is safe to start moving. Upon getting this signal the cars bikes, rickshaws, buses , cycles and lorries(mini vans) make a beeline for their destinations causing so much trouble and havoc that you often start to wonder whether common sense is ever common. The light is right on for three minutes but we in our hurry actually manage to extend it to hours.

Fluttering through the clouds...

(I must warn you that this is gonna be a pretty long blog and I don’t have the heart to split it into two. Hope you take the time out to read it and enjoy…)

A few kilometers from Dispur is this Junction called Khanapara. Driving for another 20 minutes from there you hit the Meghalaya border. Well initially you still aren’t hit with the realization that you have actually entered another state as the influence of Assam is still strong, as the Assam border is still not too far away. The roadside scenery changes from the dilapidated and unkempt government buildings, so much a part of the skyline of the Assamese capital, to the lush green paddy fields on terraced landscape and the ginger and turmeric cultivations. The roadside is now dotted with stalls selling pickles, a variety of them each mouthwatering, and meat, the predominant one being PORK!

As we near Shillong the capital city of Meghalaya I catch a glimpse of a very strange sight, a Maruthi 800 packed with over 10 people making its way up the curvy roads to the city. Well although initially shocked by the sight I was told by my friends, who by the way weren’t that amused by this, that this is a pretty common sight in shilling. Woah! Well that’s the only expression that’s came to mind at that juncture.

(Well I guess to us South Indians and a few North Indians this piece of information is equally shocking. If the general reaction to this piece of information is anything to go by. Down South I guess the Maruthi 800 has a much more revered position as opposed to a people carrier. Here it’s probably the first car 80 percent of the population buys as an upgrade to their college two wheelers in the case of college going students and the much needed upgrade to the scooters and fuel efficient bike of the common office goers.)

Since Shillong and the neighboring places are the only places I have been, I rather feel it comfortable to assume the rest of Meghalaya is of a similar geography. Hmmm… a generalization that I know is too much. Hitting Shillong is actually rejuvenating. Come to think of it, it is a place that’s calm, serene and not to tampered by the charms of commercialization. The last part in itself is enough to make any place on this earth charming.

The people of this little hamlet up in the Meghalayan Mountains too are a cheerful lot. Khasi women manned the majority of business as the Khasis are a very matrilineal tribe. The term is actually an unusual system for a person so used to hearing of the patriarchal system. Btw the youngest in the family is the one who in fact inherits the family businesses and she in fact has greater authority over the elder siblings in the family. Whew!

When it comes to the maintenance of the tourist spots of Shillong and nearby Chirapunjee, these people have it all sorted out by nature. Out of ten tourist attractions over seven are natural. Nature preserved means site preserved. A majority or rather every one of them has the local flavor in plenty, Water. Yeah I know you must keep asking what it is that I am saying well I mean waterfalls my friend. Every one scintillating in itself. Stand near a waterfall and if you listen really carefully you can actually listen to the music that is pouring forth. Each waterfall, regaling in beauty, a beauty that actually sings out to your soul. You can actually stand out there and feel yourself being washed over by a sense of calm.

Ever since I had heard about Chirapunjee being the wettest place on earth, with annual rainfall at levels that are the prayers of people in other agriculture predominant state, I wanted to visit the place. A documentary on the place and the people only made the place even more exciting and desirable. Driving up from Shillong and towards Chirapunjee we stop at the famed elephant falls and do a little bit of the touristy stuff, dressing up in Khasi attire and posing for the umpteen photo ops. As we near Chirapunjee the anticipation of rain and actually being there was rising to dangerous levels. Zipping past the open meadows and landscape dotted with a few Assam style architecture and a few broken buildings a scenery so much a picture of the landscape of Scotland.

Chirapunjee was disappointing in just one area. It was sunny! But the lack of rain made for several other interesting sights. The sights each one grand and added a mysticism to the place. The misty mountains forming valleys, valleys that in turn offered a spectacular view of the Bangladeshi Plains. Being a bright sunny day the view of the plains was all the more enthralling. Chirapunjee’s distinction of being the wettest place on earth is constantly being tossed back and forth with the neighbouring Mawsynram.

The beauty of the waterfalls and the lush greenery draped over mountains is only beaten by the mystery of the Mawsmai Caves. The Mawsmai Caves offers you a glimpse of the elaborate labyrinth of the several Limestone caves that dot the scenery. Entering into the caves the initial feeling is a claustrophobic one. One where the caves try to embrace you into its dark underbelly. The caves are basically divided into separate areas and each area is cordoned into varying sizes and shapes. The walls of the caves are molded into weird shapes and sizes and the all this by WATER. Yes water actually makes for a lot of the interesting sight around this place. Although the caves have its own mysticism and all the presence of the light bulb although casting a faint yellow glow, I think it could have been a bit more adventurous and romantic if had they given every individual a candle(of course not a very good idea since there is water dripping all round you, good for a competition though) or a torch. This would in fact allow for a lot more excitement and a sense of adventure.

As we headed back to Shillong we cross a vast expanse of grassland which on our way to Chirapunjee was empty. Now late in the evening the grassland was full and apparently it looked like an archery contest was in progress. Leaving it at that it took a walk through the streets of shillong to understand what the archery was all about. Apparently that’s the lottery in Meghalaya, the archers fire arrows from about 50 to 60 feet away into a gunny bag and the count of the arrows stuck on the bag is taken and submitted as the result. That’s an absolutely weird sport that I have had the pleasure to come across in the recent past.

The city of Shillong being an educational center it draws a large number of students from all over the northeast. This fine mix of the student population and the governing body of Meghalaya tends to lend this old capital of Assam an aura too difficult to describe with mere words. The pleasant population and the ever present chill in the air makes Sillong a place worth visiting. Its not just a place for people who want to get closer to nature but also a heaven for the shopaholics! Yes Shillong’s shopping district of Police Bazaar has it all. It’s a bargainer’s paradise, once you get used to the women business woman behind the counter. Sporting the traditional and comfortable two piece jainsem offered them an effortless grace and ease of movement. Well that’s just observation and will leave it at that for fear of sounding too gay.

Spending time in Shillong brings back a lot of memories I’ve had growing up in the hill stations down south but leaving Shillong only reminded me of the little time I spent with close friends and how it is times that you will never get again. With fondness and a heartfelt desire to return I must salute the mysticism that is Shillong with friends.

Men is the actor. Life is the stage.

Well I know what you are thinking… but this is the prelude to the following event.

The sun keeps playing hide and seek behind dark clouds not shining down brightly but offering glimpses of its majestic brilliance and grandeur, teasing, enlightening and spreading warmth. This game of hide and seek offers for a relatively comfortable drive and a very relaxed feeling. The strum of the guitar coupled with light drum beats and accompanied by a plethora of other musical instruments creates a very surreal environment in the car.

Zipping in and out of traffic making slow yet steady progress, sometimes frustrating, sometimes satisfaction, all this a part and parcel of highway driving. Joyous and peaceful keeping up a decent pace with time, kept thinking to myself woah, this is proceeding more smoothly than I thought.

Well talk of speaking too fast, just as I thought of that sentence did I get stuck behind an eitcher truck. Like all trucks found on the Indian highway this one too was no exception when it came to being grandly decked. Strikingly what caught the attention was not the usual Blow Horn inscription or the unusual ornaments hanging from every available hook, but the advice, “Men is the actor. Life is the Stage”.

Crawling behind this mammoth truck I couldn’t help but wonder in amazement at this statement. Leaving the truck behind and zooming down the highway and trying to get a place to overtake an ambassador car actually brought the little proverb read earlier back to life. Ahead of the car was this ambassador car swerving and pretty much taking up the whole road. Trying to overtake him only proved to be too dangerous and undertaking.

Coming to the conclusion I decide to trail this guy rather than try to be overly adventurous and stay a few car spaces behind him. Pretty sure he is going to do something amusing we watch patiently. The guy is driving too fast and swerving from side to side is not a very comfortable situation. My guess proved to be true when only after a couple of minutes he overtakes a maruthi van from the left and cuts in. Misjudging the speed of the van the ambassadors tail gate hits the maruthi vans front and the van shakes a bit, but continues on for a little while.

I was thnking to myself, man! people have become really tolerant and the absence of road rage impressive. But I guess I was wrong cause a little while later the van starts accelerating and chasing the car. I guess the people in the van were a little shook up over the whole incident that just took place and were regaining their bearings. Pretty soon the whole scene looked like a scene from a movie with one guy chasing the other and trying to flag the car, still swerving, by throwing water bottles and cutting off the highway. The people from the car get down and throw their wheel spanner at the ambassador and misses, guess the guy too was out of form like our cricket stars… this looses them precious time as the car cheats the road block and carries on, speeding to the next turn to their hometown before the van guys catch them. A couple of kilometers down the road they turn off and so does the maruthi van. Unfortunately I can only guess the after effect and not give a clearer picture as the scene got shifted into a village road nearby and we still had a long way to go.

But still the fun in actually getting to watch a thrilling action sequence which was very much in charater of the line,”MEN IS THE ACTOR. LIFE IS THE STAGE”.

One second friends

Friends the English dictionary defines as - A person you know well and regard with affection and trust.

Everyday in our life we encounter umpteen number of people many of them acquaintances and then there are a very few who actually fit into the description of, or rather carry the distinguished tabs called friends. There are a few people I know who can actually convert every acquaintance to a friend in no time and then there are a select few who actually take a hell of a long time to actually make a friend.

Although I can shyly claim to be a major player in the latter I must say I make hundreds of friends in a day. I meet them at the signal, I meet them at the market, I meet them at bus stops and I meet them on the road… Well I guess I must have riled you all to a great extent by now. You must be wondering how a guy who claims to constitute the latter half of the spectrum of friendship (taking really long to become friends) actually can claim to have hundreds of people thrust into the classification of friends.

Well not keeping you in suspense for much longer, all these people are my one second friends. Have you ever heard of them? Of course each one of us encounters such one second friends every living day of our lives. I too went along with a contented life not knowing exactly that I literally had millions of such friend until I was driving through the coffee plantations of coorg. My uncle and I were returning home when we noticed another jeep coming at us at speeds far exceeding the limit! The jeep kept closing in failing to slow down… it got closer and closer and closer… the closer it got the more nervous you get as the road is hardly wide enough to fit two jeeps and one of us have to go off road and not wanting to be the one to go into the dirt I stick to the road clambering very slowly ahead. The other jeep oblivious to any of these facts just speeds on towards us.

Driving around in cars most of the time you sometimes tend to forget that a jeep is more suited to the rugged terrain than an ordinary car, be it of any make. Wanting to preserve my tyres and in general the jeep I edge to the side of the road. By now the other jeep is manically hurdling towards us, obviously the other driver has thrown caution out the window. Awaiting patiently for the obvious to happen any second now I look out for options to get out of this mess. My brain processing the terrain and the several other calculations at speeds that would put a super computer to shame and also something that brought about an astonished look to my face.

Anytime now… 5sec, 4sec, 3sec, 2 sec… I didn’t need to get to 1! Whoooooshhhh, thud, thud, thud…

The other jeep was soon becoming a speck in my rear view mirror and to my horror I realized that I am driving on the edge of the road, certainly not something that is good for the vehicle and something that I had tried to avoid right from the beginning. A few seconds after the whole experience my uncle looks at me and asks what the hell was I trying to do. He calmly said that if you were so hell bent on saving the tyres why didn’t you just take it off the road. The tyres are made for exactly that kind of terrain. Not only that by staying on the road what have you gained nothing but a stream of obscenities shouted at you by the other driver.

It was then that I realized I had made a one second enemy. My uncle also went on to say that by going a little out of the way you actually ensure that you and the other vehicle have enough space to pass by comfortably and avoid having your day spoilt. That aside from the fact that you are never going to meet the other driver in the near future and it doesn’t hurt to be a courteous driver. This is what got me thinking that by being a bit courteous I actually make a one second friend.

Like the definition of a friend states that a friend is one who you know well and trust, my one minute friends are fellow drivers who I know well and trust to do the right thing so as to pass by without any incidents. So the next time you pass by another car do the right thing and if possible do something that you think is the best possible solution in the given situation without aggravating the other and you too have gained yourself a new ONE SECOND FRIEND…

The Harmonious Friends

On a recent trip to a Tibetan documentary festival, I happened to stop by a thrift shop set up at the venue… (that’s when an idea struck me why keep on writing about the usual and why not take a deviation from the beaten track and look at the Tibetan problems from a different perspective. I would rather say the teachings and culture are often quite explicitly explained in the varied documentaries, often portraying, the land, the religion and the people. But rarely do you get to hear any folklore associated to the region).

Well like all thrift shops they had several things that are usually associated with Thrift shops… Well of the whole lot, one thing caught my attention in particular. It was a sticker and not like any of the other stickers available at the shop. While the other sticker were screaming out in bold “save Tibet”, or “students for a Liberated Tibet”, this one only had a picture on it. No words blaring out any message just one picture.

To describe the picture, let’s see; it was a round sticker, predominantly green, with a landscape in the back ground and in the fore ground it had a tree and below the tree stood an elephant, atop with sat a monkey hold aloft a rabbit and finally a bird completing this strange pyramid.

Now looking at this strange sticker I ask the guy behind the counter the story behind the sticker and get the following explanation:

Once upon a time an elephant came upon a giant tree in the forest by the river bank. He rested under its shade for a rest. Soon a monkey came to rest there also. The elephant said, "This is my tree. I found it first." The monkey replied, "Do you see any fruit on this tree?" "No" said the elephant. The monkey said triumphantly, "Ah! I was here before you and I ate up the fruits on this tree before you got here." The elephant then bowed to the monkey, "OK, you're my big brother, since you came here first." "Wait a minute" said the rabbit that hopped by, "When I saw this tree, it was just a sapling with only a few branches and certainly not any fruit. So I was here before both of you." Then the elephant and monkey bowed to the rabbit: "OK, you're our big brother, since you were here first." Just then, they heard "Ha! Ha! Ha!" from a partridge on the treetop: "This tree wouldn't have sprouted if I didn't spit out the seed from a fruit I had eaten. So I was here before all of you." Then the elephant, monkey, and rabbit, all bowed to the partridge, "OK, you're truly our big brother, since you planted this very tree." Then they decided to share the tree together in peaceful harmony— enjoying the beauty of the tree's fragrance, the nourishment of the tree's fruits, and the bounty of the tree's shade. Other animals in the forest often see them together with the partridge on top of the rabbit that is held up by the monkey who rides on top of the elephant. Henceforth, they were called "the four harmonious brothers", and by their example, peace reigned throughout the jungle.

Well that was the folklore associated with the sticker, well I began to wonder what is it that this sticker so blatantly trying to convey. Well upon further investigation I am told it is the That is, when our body (the elephant), mind (the restless monkey), and emotion (the hare in the moon) are balanced, our soul (the bird) is open to the spirit (the tree of life). A sticker on the folklore of the harmonious four to explain Buddhism, it sure is an interesting…

Humbled

Having had pickles in plenty (ranging from the sweetest to the hottest), you tend to wonder, have I seen it all? The different forms of serving the ultimate in spice all tried and conquered successfully. Just when you think that you have seen it all in all forms you see a small cluster of four chillies lying inconspicuously besides a vegetable vendor on a sack spread out with all the other vegetables on sale. You hardly give it a second glance but then your attention unknowingly gets drawn to that small cluster, maybe because of the oddity of seeing these clusters of three, when all the other chillies nearby are heaped up in bulk.

Having heard of the famous Naga Jolokia Chillies, the Worlds Hottest Chilly and a native of our country, Tezpur, Assam, it was only fitting to enquire with the vendor if they were the real deal. Well the vendor certainly looked at us with awe and confusion, probably thinking to himself crazy buggers don’t they know the world hottest chilly!!!

(Honestly put, this chilly, ever since I have had the first taste, has been spicing up my meals at regular intervals thanks to a friend who graciously offered up her share of the pickle made with the infamous naga’s.)

Hearing this we grab a cluster of three chillies and pay for it hurrying back home to actually or should I say finally eat the chilly naturally, ie; raw. Sitting down for lunch sumptuous in itself we decide to take the spice to a different level with the naga jolokia. Warned well in advance by my friends mom the two of us were only too excited to try the chilly and paid little heed the good intended warnings. A very small pinch later there were the two of us scrambling for bottles of water and tears coming out of the eyes, sweat pouring out of every pore and I would probably think had we had some more of the chilly it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to see smoke coming out the ears.

The first small bite of the small pinch was really cool initially, but once it left the tongue and went down the throat it started marking a trail of fire right to the belly. This little chilly really knows how to bring down even the bravest amongst us. Apparently the tribals of the north-east have a whole chilly with their meals, maybe reasons for their rosy cheeks! Hearsay was that the contestants of a popular reality were asked to chew down one of these naga’s as part of their dare. Whew I pity the poor buggers.

The humble Naga Jolokia sure knows a thing or two about making or rather giving a new term to the whole definition of spicy food. This little treat is something one has to get a taste of at least once in his lifetime. Honestly speaking I am up for another bite of raw spice. Sizzle!

Misinterpreted…

Being an outsider, it’s very easy to actually form a verdict on a place with the very little information that is available. We seldom verify if the statistics provided by the different sources are true, or even go so far as to verify the reasons that have led to the so called disturbances. Hearing a lot about the disturbances of the north-east I was told by pretty much everybody I knew, to be careful or not to go. The only people ever supporting the decision to go on a vacation were a couple of very good friends and my Assamese colleagues.

Taking the word of my friend that you must actually see or rather experience something before forming an opinion I decide to give it a shot. Already armed with a little knowledge on the state from my cousin who had gone there earlier I geared myself for a long awaited vacation.

Entering the state of Assam was actually nostalgic. It reminded me so much of my native state of Kerala. Assam welcomes you with lush green paddy fields dotted in regular intervals with small water bodies and of course that sprinkling of modernization with the ever present signs of communication and electricity poles. Getting over the initial surprise of geographical similarity I notice that the track is yet to be electrified.

Well with the news reports from nearly almost all the national and regional channels I am geared up for a city and a state plagued by bomb blasts and riots. Stepping on to the platform and subsequently out of the station and on my ride to my friend’s house what I see is actually a city just like any other in the country. In fact the city is even more peaceful than most other cities, there is a joke about Kerala, where they say that the state works for a maximum of hundred days and the rest two hundred and sixty five days they are on some strike or the other.

If you actually take this statistic even with a pinch of salt, the city of Guwahati and the rest of Assam is doing far far better than the rest of us. Well which state does not have its share of troubles? Considering the fact that the state bounces back pretty soon after the several different problems is very impressive. The city of Coimbatore had a couple of bombs blasts in ’97, it’s only of late that the developments are happening. Compared to this even with the induced insurgency in the state, it is pretty calm.

Very recently I was talking about my trip to an uncle and aunty when they too asked about the political scenario of the state and when I explained the same to them they too were amazed and in fact so fascinated were they with my explanation that they are planning a trip to Assam soon. (must ask the government for making me an ambassador)

This reaction and the subsequently the wonderful experience I had in Assam actually makes you wonder why is it that the world perceives Assam as a place plagued with violence when there are places within our country where the intensity of violence is even more pronounced and the yet the places are synonymous with holidays and tourism. Blame it on the government or the media, blame it on us who actually jump to conclusions without actually seeing the situations for ourselves. Well each one of us have a different point of view and it really wouldn’t be fair on my part to form an opinion for the rest of you but as far as my judgement goes step foot into Assam and it will really be hard for you to hate it. You just fall in love with the land the people and the culture. Jai aai Asom.

The city of blood...

There was once this king called Banasura, an asura, but also an ardent devotee of Lord Shiva. One day this king was gifted with a beautiful girl child. Like all fathers our king too on the best intrests of his beautiful daughter built her a splendid house on the hill. With all the trapping worthy of a princess the young girl lived her life blissfully unaware of the hardships around her.

Well one can't blame the little princess of going queen marie antionette, as her father to protect her from the harsh realities of the world not only got her privately tutored but also had her house surrounded by a constant blaze.

The fire roaring and crackling, making or rather devouring the constant timber being fed. It's appetite never ceasing always wanting more and the king only to happy to appease it's every whim... This incessant flame had one aim and it effectively carried out it's duty to the maximum...

Now the little princess who till now played hop scotch and marbles, brushing the artificial hair of her prestine porclein dolls, slowly stared outgrowing her pretty frocks and started taking a liking to the mekkala chaddar... She slowly graduated from just self grooming to the intricacies if life via a viz the pursuit of fine arts... As the princess reached adolance she kept havin these wierd dreams of a young man and as it so happens the young princess started falling in love with this young man.

In the city also lived a great person called Chitralekha. She was an exceptional artist and had several gifts one of which being the boon of drawing or rather sketching the portrait of a person by just the description of the individuals features. The princess upon hearing this, called her and asked for the rendering of the image that appeared in her dreams. The portrait once formed reveals the picture of krishnas grandson, Annirudha. The artist, also had magical powers and using that, she whisks krishnas grandson while he was sleeping, to the princess and Agnighar.

Both the youngsters immediate take a liking to each other and are married off inand with the typical gandharva marriage rituals.

Hmmm... Love is in the air could danger be lurking in the shadows???

King Banasura had no idea of what was transpiring behind his back and once he got to know of all the development his anger hit the roof and even storm clouds seemed pale in comparison. Hell bent on taking revenge by killing Krishna's grandson he starts a mighty war.

Well a grandfather cannot forsake his grandson side... So the sayin goes... So Krishna fights against Banasura alongside his grandson. Now King Banasura being an ardent deevotee of Lord Shiva summons him to fight alongside him in the war and Shiva being a God have to stick to his devotee and so ensues a war that last for a lot of years and the toll is heavy on both sides.

Finally hearing the cries for help from the people of the land, Lord Brahma enters the scene and works out an amicable solution to the whole problem and brings and end to the war. Due to lack of literature we are still ignorant of what the solution was but anyways one as reached. The outcome of the war was disasterous and with both sides suffering great losses one could see the land drenched in blood as far as the eye could see.

This led to the city being called TEZPUR, the city of Blood.

Superiority

Yep Superiority

A documentary on the life of baboons actually got me thinking on this topic. A point they emphasized in this documentary kept hitting me hard whenever I encountered a similar instance in real life. To be honest I must say that there were umpteen number of such examples that we see in our everyday life. Not one for building in the suspense and never one for beating around for too long, I guess I must now get to the topic… Alpha Males! Yep I know I must be right now on the top of the list as a MCP.

(Sorry ladies but I just couldn’t get a reference for such a behavior that I can remember ever encountering on alpha females, but I must say that my day to day experience immediately contradict the above statement – Alpha Males…)

Well the society of baboons definitely had a rigid; very rigid set of rules to follow. Breaking one of them or rather the intrusion of another male into the group meant serious consequences and very often ended in a fight for supremacy.

One evening I stood on my balcony overlooking a couple of small kids playing in the gulley outside the apartment gate. What started as simply game of catch between two toddlers grew into a fully fledged game of cricket between six kids, a mixture of both boys and girls. Well I must say the boys were controlling most of it – no hard feelings but it sure looked like they were dominating. Pretty much the scenario when it comes to such sports. Pretty soon the game seemed to lack the initial vigor and faded off to a platter of several other insignificant games. The boys, hanging from wooden poles forming the fence and the girls spinning round and round like tops.

The brightly coloured skirts forming pretty circles with concrete grey in the background. This set off with the little boys each trying to outdo the others. Every boy present there was trying their best, trying to outdo the trick the other was doing. Eg; if one guy was hanging with his hands and legs from the pole the other was crawling from one end to the other of the same pole… Hmmm as is the case this did not catch the fancy of the little girls still spinning around. Desperate times call for desperate measures. The boys now start doing hurdles pretty often interrupting the activity of the girls.

Nothing can actually be done gracefully when you have a bunch of boisterous kids jumping around and taking their run ups… While all this is going on the boys not only have it amongst themselves to think of measures of actually getting the attraction of the girls but they also are trying to beat the other. Pretty soon the girls actually warm up to the antics of one spritely bloke and once that was set then he started dominating the events of the evening. Surprising considering all this happened in a span of just under an hour.

This too is one example of trying to be the dominant male, unconsciously enough the innocent boys were doing just that. If we actually look into it don’t you think every competition actually decides on this very topic. One competitor trying his level best to be declared the champion. Although the concept of the alpha male is pretty civil and does not have the severe consequences of the animal kingdom where its usually a battle to the death.

Superiority

Yep Superiority

A documentary on the life of baboons actually got me thinking on this topic. A point they emphasized in this documentary kept hitting me hard whenever I encountered a similar instance in real life. To be honest I must say that there were umpteen number of such examples that we see in our everyday life. Not one for building in the suspense and never one for beating around for too long, I guess I must now get to the topic… Alpha Males! Yep I know I must be right now on the top of the list as a MCP.

(Sorry ladies but I just couldn’t get a reference for such a behavior that I can remember ever encountering on alpha females, but I must say that my day to day experience immediately contradict the above statement – Alpha Males…)

Well the society of baboons definitely had a rigid; very rigid set of rules to follow. Breaking one of them or rather the intrusion of another male into the group meant serious consequences and very often ended in a fight for supremacy.

One evening I stood on my balcony overlooking a couple of small kids playing in the gulley outside the apartment gate. What started as simply game of catch between two toddlers grew into a fully fledged game of cricket between six kids, a mixture of both boys and girls. Well I must say the boys were controlling most of it – no hard feelings but it sure looked like they were dominating. Pretty much the scenario when it comes to such sports. Pretty soon the game seemed to lack the initial vigor and faded off to a platter of several other insignificant games. The boys, hanging from wooden poles forming the fence and the girls spinning round and round like tops.

The brightly coloured skirts forming pretty circles with concrete grey in the background. This set off with the little boys each trying to outdo the others. Every boy present there was trying their best, trying to outdo the trick the other was doing. Eg; if one guy was hanging with his hands and legs from the pole the other was crawling from one end to the other of the same pole… Hmmm as is the case this did not catch the fancy of the little girls still spinning around. Desperate times call for desperate measures. The boys now start doing hurdles pretty often interrupting the activity of the girls.

Nothing can actually be done gracefully when you have a bunch of boisterous kids jumping around and taking their run ups… While all this is going on the boys not only have it amongst themselves to think of measures of actually getting the attraction of the girls but they also are trying to beat the other. Pretty soon the girls actually warm up to the antics of one spritely bloke and once that was set then he started dominating the events of the evening. Surprising considering all this happened in a span of just under an hour.

This too is one example of trying to be the dominant male, unconsciously enough the innocent boys were doing just that. If we actually look into it don’t you think every competition actually decides on this very topic. One competitor trying his level best to be declared the champion. Although the concept of the alpha male is pretty civil and does not have the severe consequences of the animal kingdom where its usually a battle to the death.

on the rocks...

On the rocks... A very common terminology when it comes to drinking but the term took a whole new meaning for four of us adventurous people. Despite the warnings of the well meaning friends we went there hoping for the bare minimum. The night before over a lovely dinner of parathas and pepper chicken accompanied by bubbly sparkling wine and beef we are told that the place is not all that great if you arent going there to drink. The Explanation sounded to shady i must say, a place renowned for its drink.... hmmm. Heard the booze is cheap a zillion time before. We finished our quite dinner little realising that this would be the last meal we'd have being treated like normal human beings. Suprising nah... well you will get to know soon. We hit the road early the next day, half an hour behind schedule, driving made worse by demented truckers. the morning scenario was something like a scene from some hollywood flick... woooo, all you see in the morning is a pair of headlight on high beam coming at you from all directions....

After over 30 kms of this torture and dragging we finally hit roads wherein you can touch 140kmph with relative ease and the continued for over 50 kms before our turn to pondicherry via thiruvanamalai. Our first stop for the day was at the religious town of Thiruvanamalai, a town we actually covered on foot. Believe it or not we actually parked on the outskirts and walked throught the whole town engulfed by a sea of red (the devotees to the temple are supposed to wear red as opposed to the pilgrims to sabrimala who wear black), in search of a decent hotel. tanking up on a decent enough tamil breakfast we start to our destination, Pondicherry.

A stop over at the foot of the gingee fort put forth the seed of wanting to climb to the very top. With just that plan we drive on to Pondicherry.

Entering Pondicherry through the route we took gets us into the city throught JIPMER maintained public property. This brought a temperory smile to our faces but one that was short lived. After the university ended so did the beautiful roads and sidewalks. The tree lined streets gave way to a grossly overcrowded street where a car can hardly inch past unless he is part of an automobile manufacturer. the city surprisingly bring to mind images of a China, only this time its more polluted with all the two wheelers that ply through them.

Cops donned in white uniforms and red hats are more like city ornaments as they are of absolutely no use and help. All this was the prequel to the seashore. Well since expectations were short we were in for a shock cause even short expectations are too much... There is no seashore, as is shore with sand!!! Its just rocks and rock stretching the entire coastline. the sand behind the rocks looked more like mud excavated from a building site, and since they had no [lace to dump it they dumped it on the seashore... Well one disappointment down this got all our enthusiasm out and we pretty much started contemplating on a wasted trip.

Roaming around the city too proved too futile, resigning our fate to two hotels that did have vacant rooms we settle on the one that charged us the most. hmmm.... funny for a budget trip. Getting the room was just one step to a rather wide array of problems yet to be faced. Lunch too proved too strenous an affair. The following dialogues were our constant companions

1. Sorry, we are full.
2. We shut shop at 9!
3. Sorry all our ingredients are over.
4. We dont have any of the seafood dishes


Hearing these answers from almost all hotels is bound to breed frustration and boredom for sure. But after the day was out we started getting the hang of how things function in this sleepy side of town. A proper ight out for a total teetotaler would be something that goes like this head out for dinner at around 6:30(even earlier) then go for a walk on the rocks and return to your shack considering that you just had a wild night in town.

The next day was much better as we have got the hang of things in Pondicherry and the way the restaurants worked. Not intending to stay in a crowded city by the coast without a natural beach was too depressing and at the same time a motivation for us to drive out of town and look for quiter beaches... The gods seemed to have favoured us this time as we not only got an empty beach but also got a fisherman willing to take us out to sea and also one kind enough to patiently teach us to fix a broken net. Picking up knick knack lying on the beach and sunbathing occupied the rest of the afternoon before it was time to head back to the hustle of the city.

Making our way to the hotel to freshen up we decide on a hotel to have dinner and make sure we get in without out being rejected. Fully prepared we head to the local pizzeria, apparently one of the best in the area. this time we had a backup plan of actually haveing a couple of restaurants ready. After literally eating the whole menuwe head for the beach and as they say theses days lucjy by chance we hit on a rock concert... all though quite decent the first thing that hits you is the strong scent of ganja... Listening to rock till dawn is not something you actually expect after the low expectations you have formed of a city.

The next day the speed in whch we actually headed out of the city only prompted us to consider the decision to drive to pondi a bad one. An expensive city even by Bangalore standards and one with really poor service. well if i were to sum it up in a sentence i'd say it was ON THE ROCKS!

Ads

Well its that time of the year when ads take precidense in our cricket crazy country... well its that time when even the most hesistant of souls sit in front of the small box so fondly called the idiot box.

I happen to sit in front of the telly and happened to see to ads that actually caught my attention. The ads are the one for Bajaj DTSi bikes and the IPL ad. The former is likable more due to the fact that it is confusing in its content and idea. Well some may argue that isn't it the main reason the ads' being aired??? true but then at the end of the ad if you still remain unclear as to the intention of the ad then the ad simply has lost all its momentum.

Well i am sure most of you have seen the ad aired by bajaj of two sisters fighting? Well the intention is kinda hazy but it has two versions... Keeping it in the angelic vein me thinks the two sisters are fighting for a ride on their brothers new bike. But on a more devilish note it looks like two sisters are fighting over a guy wanting to give one of them a ride. Now the really confusing part is why would two women fight so vehementally over a guy, just to be taken for a ride... hmmm... leaves much to ponder over and makes you actually loose focus on the target of the ad.

The latter, namely the IPL ad is a kinda nice ad, done on the reactions of people. The ad makes you wonder if there were no walls seperating us then we would all be reacting just the way they were enacting in the ad. Our actions so in sync with the rest of the country that it would be a gold medal winner in the olympics synchronised events.

Ads just add to the programme...

The road home…

A very simple line but yet it carries a huge meaning a deeper thought to the meaning of taking the road home. Each one of us has always trodden down the path that leads us home, some everyday, some less frequently but the significance of taking the road home becomes alive only after we are dead.

Perplexed? Well so was I. This concept of coming home is what director Zhang Yimou lovingly portrayed in the film of the same name, the Road Home.

The film is shot in China and has the opening in the modern times where a business man makes his way home for his father’s funeral. Upon reaching the village he is summoned by the village headman and told that the mother intends to have the father carried into the village from the city morgue. He also urges the son to reason with the mother to change her mind on the funeral procession and instead opt for bringing the body in a tractor rather than carrying him home, a problem compounded by the fact that the village youngsters have left the village in pursuit of better job opportunities. The mother declines the offer and insists on carrying the body back home based on a superstitious whim. The son obliged to carry his mothers wish for his father’s last rite sets out to hire the men from the neighboring village. In the meantime there is a story on how the parents met.

Interestingly portrayed the story goes on to tell of the love story that develops between the village school teacher and the village’s most beautiful maiden. Simple as it may seem the bond formed with the father and mother is basically what paves the way for the title the road home. This love story is one in which the mother waits the fathers every day of their courtship along the way, just to catch a glimpse of him and in a way he to gets to know of the fixation the village belle has on him and acknowledges it. Surprisingly it is the separation that brings the two together, never to be separated but at death.

This association of the path, which laid the foundation to a lovely and memorable association, is what prompts the mother to insist on carrying the father back home rather than having him transported. The mothers argument that the father should be carried home so that he get to travel the road home one last time before he is finally laid to rest truly justifies the expenses the son has to undertake. Little did he anticipate, that the past students of the father would actually come to help out in the procession and the contracted workers to carry the body back home without taking any money.

We have been exposed to such sentimental ads of the students coming forward to help the teacher or showing their appreciation for their tutor in the advertising campaigns run by the renowned garment manufacturer, Raymonds.

But the road home is something that each one of us goes through and isn’t it appropriate to travel the road home one final time.