The Dream Cometh True

One of my dreams since childhood was to visit Keoladeo Ghana National Park in Bharatpur, Rajasthan. I studied in BITS for four years, but never managed to visit Bharatpur. Call that lack of company. After that, I have been working in Gurgaon for last three years. Never managed to visit Bharatpur. Call that laziness. Finally, this fine winter, after seeing Painted Storks right here in Gurgaon (Sultanpur), I couldn't take that anymore, and decided to hit Bharatpur. And so we did. It turned out to be just a place to die for, and worth dreaming about it for some 12 odd years. Here's what was there:

1) Ashy Wren Warbler (Prinia??)

2) Barheaded Goose

3) Baya (Weaver Bird)

4) Black Shouldered Kite

5) Bolonese Hawk Eagle

6) Brahminy Duck (Rudy Sheldrake)

7) Brahminy Kite

8) Brahminy Maina

9) Bronzewinged Dove

10) Bronzewinged Jacana

11) Cattle Egret

12) Chrimson breasted Barbet

13) Comb Duck / Nakta

14) Common Drongo

15) Common Grey Hornbill

16) Common Pariah Kite

17) Common Sandpiper

18) Common Shrike

19) Common Swallow

20) Common Teal

21) Coot

22) Cotton Teal

23) Crested Serpent Eagle

24) Crow Pheasant

25) Dabchick (Grebe)

26) Darter (Snake Bird)

27) Glossy Ibis

28) Golden Oriole

29) Goldenbacked Woodpecker

30) Grey Heron

31) Hoopoe

32) House Crow

33) House Sparrow

34) Indian Maina

35) Indian Moorhen

36) Indian Robin

37) Indian Roller

38) Jungle Babbler

39) Jungle Bush Quail

40) Jungle Crow

41) Kestrel

42) Large Cormorant

43) Large Egret

44) Lesser Whistling Teal

45) Little Cormorant 

46) Little Egret

47) Long Tailed Shrike

48) Magpie Robin

49) Marsh Harrier

50) Painted Stork

51) Pied Bushchat

52) Pied Kingfisher

53) Pintail

54) Pond Heron / Paddy Bird

55) Purple Heron

56) Purple Moorhen

57) Purple Sunbird

58) Red Whiskered Bulbul

59) Redstart

60) Redwattled Lapwing

61) Ring Dove

62) Rose Ringed Parakeet

63) Rufous Backed Shrike

64) Shoveller

65) Small or Blue Kingfisher

66) Spoonbill

67) Spotbill Duck

68) Spotted Munia

69) Spotted Owlet

70) Tailor Bird

71) Tree Pie

72) White Breasted Waterhen

73) White Cheeked Bulbul

74) White Ibis

75) Whitebreasted Kingfisher

Here's what I also wanted to see, could have seen, but could not (another day's stay might have added the following into the list above - sigh!):

1) Sarus Crane

2) Indian Courser

3) Common Crane

4) Openbilled Stork

Apart from these, here's what we also saw:

1) Antelope

2) Jackal

3) Spotted Deer

4) Indian Rock Python (yeah! from less than 3 feet distance)

The whole experience was so extraordinary that I don't think my words will do any justice to it. Besides I am not sure if you are interested in reading it! If you are, we can catch up over a coffee or a beer and I shall tell you.

Here are some photos from the trip: Agra | Bharatpur (I managed to photograph most of the birds listed above)

Ten Random Things

I am tagged. That too for writing ten random things about myself. When did I not do it on my blog? I thought I always did. Anyways, here goes –

Rules of the game: Check if your name is at the end of this blog post. If so, type out a similar blog copy-pasting these rules. After that, list down 10 random things about yourself (that many do not know) and then tag 5 more people who have to do the same.

My List:

1. I am extremely good at remembering numbers. Any kind of numbers. I know almost every (good) friend’s mobile / landline number by heart. I even remember, for days, the random complaint confirmation numbers that banks / ISPs give you. So in case you want to know what your first mobile number was (after which you changed three numbers), I might just be of help to you!

2. I am equally bad at associating faces with names (or names with faces?). Most of the times I don’t know who the person sending me a friends request on Facebook / Orkut is. He tells me that he is a schoolmate of mine, but I can’t remember him. Sometimes I don’t know who I am talking to – face to face! I need not remember Willem Dafoe even though I had loved Elias in Platoon.

3. I had stopped making new-year-resolutions few years back. They don’t really work out. But since I traveled quite a bit in the last year, the resolution for year 2009 is to travel more. In fact, much more.

4. Reptiles are not something that I usually like. However, I am OK with snakes, and had a ‘pet’ snake for more than 15 days. A Green Keel Back. That fella was harmless and amazing. Unfortunately, I couldn’t catch tadpoles in the subsequent weeks. Besides the poor thing would get irritated when it used to be warm outside; and I couldn’t convince the people around me that it is a cool thing to have. So I had to say goodbye to it. I was 17.

5. Roller Coasters, Joyrides, Bungee Jumping, Scuba Diving, Snorkeling, Skydiving, Parasailing and Paragliding are few things that fascinate me. I want to fly!

6. I am extremely lazy; however, I do not miss bath a single day.

7. I’d rather prefer darkness than bright light. When there is light, I’d prefer it white. Yellow and others make me sick, unless they are used to create a classy ambience. In old bungalows, pubs etc.

8. I am very, very prone to losing things that are not attached to my body. Therefore, I don’t usually buy expensive sunglasses, funky pens, helmets, caps, etc. I had to work hard to get used to carrying a bag and remembering to pick it up every time I move from one place to the other.

9. My handwriting is different every time I write something. However, if I want to, I can write in a uniform and neat handwriting. In school and Jr. college, my notes used to be popular and my notebooks were used to getting photocopied frequently.

10. I did not like the book The Alchemist.

I tag: Chandy, Neelam, Nishad, Pritika, and Miss Skeeter. Go go go…

Scarlett Johansson’s Year End Secret, etc.

User discretion recommended.

I was out on a trip to Jim Corbett National Park for last 4 days.  I came back to see around 11 *spam* emails in my mailbox.  These were sent to one of our official distribution lists.  All had super WTF subject lines.  So we held a competition to make a story. Simple rule - connect all the subject lines of the emails to form a story. Use as few additional sentences as possible.  Below is my shot (pun unintended), with additional words in normal font (yeah, the italics were the subject lines of the spam!!):

I wanted to make your buddies envy by showing them Scarlett Johansson moaning in pleasure when I took her hard on the kitchen table. She flicked her hair and she went crazy when she saw my manhood. She said “Daphne loves it from behind, but I love it the way you do it! Don't disappear now! Here's what is going to happen on Jan 1st - The proven secret for manhood is going to be out”. She said this and she kept moaning in pleasure. Your buddies said "Everything is going down except this – the greatest manhood of all times!"

We like our creativity, and we will be interested in seeing your creativity. Give it a shot!

So with this, yet another year comes to an end. It has been quite an uneventful year. Well, not really. Lot of travel happened. A 4 day trip to Chakrata, 2 months (vacation) at UK (Marlow, London, Scotland etc), couple of home trips, a fishing trip to Pong reservoir and finally, the much awaited Jim Corbett trip. Lot of ups and downs were seen at the workplace; while the personal life remained quiet, as it has been for the last three-four years. Many movies from IMDB top 250 were enjoyed. Not much reading happened, unfortunately. The darkest incident of the year was the Mumbai terrorist attacks, and we still shiver by the mere thought of them. Brightest incident was spending time with the new kids on the block in our family and the cousins during Diwali. Moment of success was the promotion to the post of Manager at work. 

Etc. 

We wish you all a very happy, successful and prosperous new year 2009!  

Sometimes I miss

... my non-recurring dreams. 

Update. Etc.

Hello.

It's been quite some time. The days of not writing here were of confusion, laziness, hatred for life etc. Mostly. The usual Gurgaon stuff, y'know... of spending hours and hours in office, not giving time to one's self, only cribbing about it on twitter (so conveniently 140 words wonly, blog posts be damned!), not answering the phone calls. etc.

Last few days - a month or so - have been bliss. One. A much awaited home trip happened. The first one after the UK trip. Catching up with a lot of sleep, good food, friends, cousins and the cheerful relatives' gang. The usual.

Two. A much awaited falling-seriously-sick. Sounds weird, but it was fun. For I didn't have to go to office four straight days. Heavy duty food was cut down on, stomach was given good rest. Absolute peace, etc. It's nice to fall ill once in a while. And I did that after more than 4 years! A big yay to that.

Three. The work at office has been reduced considerably - all shamelessly hail the downfall of economy etc.

Among other things, a good trip to this paradise called Pong Dam Lake was made. With Bikini and The Don. A lot of frustrating times were seen. Few books were read – mostly general stuff – 3 mistakes of my life, keep off the grass etc. A lot of movies were watched. Mostly from the IMDB top 250. Good F1 season was enjoyed. And off late, good weather is being enjoyed in Gurgaon.

Etc.

< / adnyatwaas>

The UK diaries # 6 : What makes my life interesting?

People.

A particularly dull evening in Edinburgh. Castle Rock Hostel – which is a rather fascinating place. I take my cup of coffee and head towards the patio. There is a guy, sitting with a beer, looking lost.

Me: Mind if I sit here?
Lost guy: (looks at me and smiles) I like company.
Me (to self): Interesting!

We take no time to become good friends.

Meet Jacek Czerski, from Warsaw, Poland. Age 25 years. Today happens to be his b'day. He can hardly speak English. He's been in Edinburgh for close to a month now. When he came, he did not know a single word of English. Now he can talk, we can make a conversation. He is a labourer, that's the term he uses. He likes to meet new people. He was bugged with his life back in Poland. He thought the people back home were too narrow-minded. He's sharp, enthusiastic and loves to know about the things around. One fine day, he just left everyone and came here. He hardly had any money, and it was cold. He could barely speak English. He believes it's just the people here that helped him. He's changed couple of jobs in a month - one as a toilet cleaner, and one as a kitchen cleaner. Right now he is working with a hammer and stones, hammering the stones all day long - he doesn't know what to call that. He is happy with the money he is getting. He is happy with his life.

He has met a girl from India before, and is very curious know about India. He has endless questions - what kind of animals do you have in India, is it true that you marry girls that your parents like you to marry, are there really more than 100 million people in Mumbai, how come there are more than twenty languages in a single country, are there animals other than dogs cats horses goats and cattle on the streets (like elephants, giraffes etc), are we non-vegetarians – endless list. He just wants to stay here, as long as he finds it interesting to interact with new people everyday. He wants to stay here till he learns good English. Because when he does, he can talk to almost anyone in this world. He says he will travel the whole world, especially India, Africa and Latin America. And China. And Russia. He has no clue that something called as VISA exists - and that it might be a problem when he'd travel across the world. He says he doesn't fly - he'd take bus, train, whatever to go to places. Maybe he'll ride a horse. He is ready to do any job. He has not had primary education and doesn't know what email is. Well he does, but he doesn't have an email. He thinks if he gets one, his parents will ask some computer engineers to track him down. I give him my email anyway, In return he writes his name on a paper, with a small smiley.

He is curious about learning Hindi. And Marathi. I teach him some words. In return, I get to learn Polska. Chesht. Yac shye mash? His memory is sharp; he remembers almost all the foreign language words that people have taught him. He doesn't want to move out of the hostel - because he gets tension free hot water, kitchen etc here. He doesn't have to worry about the cold.

It's getting dark – I tell him we must celebrate his b'day. He hasn't been to a pub here… because he is carefully saving his money. When I tell him let's go out and celebrate, he insists on a Scottish local pub that he fancies going to. We go there; he asks everyone how they're doing. He asks for the best local beer in the town. Tennet’s. We drink and talk. I sit back and see him happy. Listen to him talking. Answer his questions.

He says he doesn't watch television or movies. "Our eyes, they are good. I watch movies from my eyes, what I see" – he nails it.

We are not just friends anymore. We are brothers. He says first thing he will do when he learns English - He will get an email, and buzz me saying ‘Hi Brother’. In the morning, when the time has come for me to go, he says he'd come to India one day, to Mumbai, to see if I am there. Then to Delhi. Because he wants to see all these places. I know this guy is going to do well in his life.

Brakuyeh mee tseebyeh, he says to me, as my bus leaves Edinburgh. I will miss you too, Jacek. Take care of yourself. Hope we will meet one fine day. In India, or somewhere in this small world.

The UK diaries # 5 : Oxford

On a weekend, I decide to visit Oxford – The city of dreaming spires. It indeed is a wonderful city, and I have a wonderful, just the perfect guide – Apar. He is an old friend from BITSian times, who did his masters in history from Oxford, and now pursuing a PHD from Imperial College in London. Thankfully, he still has his apartment in Oxford, and an access to almost all the colleges and libraries there. The man, being a history student and in Oxford for close to two years, is naturally the best person to show you around. And he is kind enough to spend entire day with me. I am pleased to see his enthusiasm – it’s much much more than mine! He makes me feel at home right away.

We take random (not really… he carefully decides on plan of action and sticks to it) walk in the city, catching up with each other, talking about various interesting things. He talks, I listen. It feels nice to catch up and to listen to someone who has developed an entirely different perspective about things – by quitting the 9 to 5 job in an MNC in Bangalore, and studying what he really wanted to.

We visit a few colleges, some of them being more than three hundred years old! The architecture is stunning and beautiful, the people we meet are nice and cheerful, the gardens are romantic, and the flowers talk of life.

Among other things, we visit the Ashmolean Museum - One of the oldest museums in the world. It is extremely well maintained and I have a nice time there. Apar is very informative as usual!

***

One of the most heavenly times of my life comes, when at his college’s common room, when no one is there, Apar plays the piano. I sit on a couch and relax with the melody. Get lost in the joy of the music…

Since a picture speaks thousand words, here are few, taken from Apar’s camera, offered without comment:

***

We have a nice lunch in a lavish Italian restaurant, but I don’t let him take me out for dinner. I insist on cooking at his apartment, he understands where this thing is coming from, and is ready to do it. We cook daal with a lot of spinach and vegetables, and some plain rice. I hog like anything – with some delicious Greek Yoghurt. The daal tastes heavenly. Especially to someone who hasn’t had Indian home cooked food in weeks. While the only regret should have been that I didn't get to have dinner in supposedly Hogwarts Dining hall (which is the Christ Church college's dining hall, and we could have had a chance to have dinner there...), both my stomach and mind are extremely happy. Stomach, after a long time!

PS: More Oxford photos are here. It's a real pain posting photos on blogger. Go, have a look.

The UK diaries # 4 : London-ed !!

This is yet another weekend. “It’s a beautiful sunny day….” This is how a conversation between two Brits kicks off (after that, they may talk about anything under the sun. But the conversation has to begin with these lines. It is a rule I guess). Today is one of those days – it’s sunny and there is no rain predicted in the daily weather forecast. Sounds like an ideal day to hit London. Besides I have to see one of my old friends there. A day travel pass is a very convenient way of traveling in London. You get unlimited travel in the London Underground. I buy a day travel pass from Marlow – it costs me 16 pounds.

***

From Paddington, I take a tube to Oxford Circus. It’s the Bakerloo line. My first ever experience of traveling in something as grand as the London Underground. It exists for more than hundred years now, but in my opinion, it is in a great shape. It connects whole of London – the network is extremely good, this mode of travel is fast, and the trains are very frequent. It’s amazing how they have managed to circulate the air underground – some of the stations are more than 4 storeys under the ground! I come out of Oxford Circus tube station… and man! I see hordes of people on the streets!

***

People are all over the place, as I take a walk from Oxford Circus to Piccadilly. Piccadilly is a place where there are shops everywhere. Big malls. Restaurants. Open coffee houses. Pubs. Eateries. People look happy enjoying this. I can spot quite a lot of tourists – they are as astonished as I am. And they are looking at their maps. So am I! I stop at a bus stop to look at my map to locate Covent Garden. A short, dark, thin man comes hurriedly to me. He is an Indian. Probably a south Indian. He is holding almost ten different maps. Pamphlets of various train services. He can barely speak English. Looks lost. He asks me if I have any idea how to get to Reading from here. I tell him what trains he can take, but he doesn’t want that. He wants a bus – or something cheap. After a long conversation, this is what he tries to explain to me – that his name is Ramasamy; that he is from south India and has just arrived to Englad a day back; that he is a secondary teacher and has just got a job in a school near Reading; that they haven’t provided him an accommodation yet, so he is staying at some distant relative’s place somewhere; that he took wrong train by mistake which brought him to London instead of Reading; that he has just 10 pounds so he cannot go back; that the cops here did not help; that the Indian embassy people here did not help; that he does not have any phone numbers and he has already spent some money trying to call back India for help; that he has no option than walk all the way till Reading from the place to which he exhausts his 10 pounds for buying the ticket; that the ticket to Reading costs 14 pounds; that he is helpless in this strange country.

I am sure he is a con. But when I look into his eyes, I get a different feeling. He looks really helpless. I give him 5 pounds, my card and contact number. I say in case you feel like returning this money, please get in touch with me. He takes it, says he will get back to me and disappears. For a moment I think of following him, because the way he is gone, I am sure I am just cheated for five pounds. But that is not what I am here for… because the money is gone now, and there is no point thinking about it.

As I walk on, I can’t help myself thinking of what his past and future must be like… maybe he is a bastard, and gets a couple of bakras like me everyday. The world has too many of those. Maybe he will go and have a nice laugh looking at his beer mug placed on my card. Or maybe he is actually a poor teahcer who is helpless in this city. His 20 mile walk is saved because of my little help, and he will contact me sometime. I don’t expect the money back, but just like me, he will have a story to tell everyone for the rest of his life. Who knows! In the middle of the Oxford road in London, I shrug my shoulders and walk on. Life is strange.

***

I know I have to visit Covent Garden. I walk a mile or so, and there it is! One of the most happiest places I have ever been to, this Covent Garden. There are open eateries and pubs all over the place. Buskers (the people who perform music on streets) are everywhere. I have a lot of change, and the music is good – so I can enjoy it without guilt :) And there are stand-up comedians who are attracting large audience. There are mindblowingly talented jugglers. Happiness is in the air, and I can smell it. The moment I sit down on a pavement, a young artist starts playing U2’s One. Aaahh. Joy. And he is surprisingly good. Reminds me of one of the movies I watched on flight – August Rush. I sit there and listen to 3-4 songs. All of them good. When the man starts singing Maroon 5’s she will be loved, I move on. An African old man is playing brilliant guitar. Right in front of the London Transport Museum. I grab myself a beer, sit on a pavement and enjoy his music. Most of the songs are unknown – I reckon it must be Rod Stewart stuff.

The one last song he sings --

I can see clearly now the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way,
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind.
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) sunshiny day.
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) sunshiny day.

Indeed.

***

London Bridge.

As I am about to start crossing this marvel, I see a group of school boys and girls standing and trying to stoop over the bridge. They are all looking in one corner, under the bridge, near the river. Curiously I look there and see a young girl is near the river, trying to bend over the railing. And the group of school boys and girls is watching it silently. I see – there is an abandoned staircase going down there… there is no access through it.

The girl is thin, and looks pale. Lifeless. Must be around 15-16. There are bruises all over her face. Her mouth is blood stained. She is trying to jump into the water. But she doesn’t look drunk. She looks up at the mob watching her. Then bends over the railing again. The look in her eyes says she needs help. I am sure I can save (rescue?) her – all I have to do is to go (illegally it may be) down the stairs, and bring her back. But the people don’t let me go. I ask the group who she is. They don’t know. Crazy bitch.. someone says and they all walk away.

All of a sudden, she comes up the stairs. People are relieved. But since the door that opens on the bridge is locked, she can’t come out. She seems to have calmed down, but still doesn’t say a word. All of a sudden, she goes down again. Almost about to jump off the railing, when a rescue team comes in a big boat. I guess someone must have called the police. She is on the other side and about to jump, when the boat hits her with a thud. She is crushed between the boat and the fence. A cop holds her pants and pulls her into the boat. She is badly injured, her pants off - now lying half naked in the boat. They go off the site in no time.

As I am walking off, a police car and an ambulance come to the riverside, their sirens on max. All it could have taken was someone going down (breaking the law?), and getting the kid out. I hope she is not too badly hurt with that bang.

I don’t see the London bridge any more.

***

I am randomly walking around that area. Suddenly I see a crowded street where hordes of people are randomly sitting on wooden boxes, pavements, all over the place. There are open pubs all over the place. The place looks interesting. I get a pint of Kronenbourg and sit on one of the pavements. Start reading a book. Looking at those people, I miss company the very first time in the day.

Two young guys come and ask me to take a snap of theirs. One of them says, Listen Brother, the snap better be good. Take a good photo. Goes on to explain the working of the camera. I tell him that I will take a good snap, worry not. He wants the building behind him to be captured too. His friend ask him to change the batteries. While he is off to that, his friend asks me if I have seen Lock, Stock and Two Smokin’ Barrels. Of course I have!! It’s apparently one of their very very favorite movies, and the place I am sitting bang opposite to, is the hideout! Yeah, well… what a coincidence! These guys have come all the way from Germany to see this place (among other things).

The place says PEROT Exportatlier. It’s an old building. There is a Shop next to it – Paul Smith, 13 Park Street. And a sandwich bar called Little Dorrit.

I take a good photo. The guys thank me for hundred times and buy me another pint. We sit there and get drunk in the twilight. These are good times – drinking with strangers in a strange place – with just a single reason for bonding, some movie that we all like!!

***

As I take the train back home late in the night, my feet hurt. Because I have walked quite a bit. And my mind is full of thoughts – most of them being very strange to myself. This city has left a very different first impression on me -- different from all the other places that I have traveled to.

I am Londoned.

The UK diaries # 3 : The Weekend

Friday evenings are usually beer evenings, when everybody from the office hangs out in a pub next to office – Slug and Lettuce. But today I resists the temptation of having a pint – my cousin is going to pick me up and take me to his place at Birmingham. I must be meeting him after 4-5 years. He has been living in the UK for the last six and half years and now has a two year old kid.
Time flies.

He picks me up in his Honda Civic. We take the A40 to Birmingham. The drive is nice. Speed limit in the UK has been 70 miles per hour since ages. They haven’t revised it even after such a great evolution of technology in automobiles – he tells me, but sticks to 70. Everybody else is going at a speed of at least 85! I quite enjoy the drive as we talk about things and catch up with each other. A long, hundred mile drive. Good car. Nice company. Perfect music. Life’s good!

***

On the way, we pass Silverstone – but still drive at 70. Among other things, we drive through Oxford, Warwick and Stratford upon Avon – the birthplace of William Shakespere. The house is in Solihull – a suburb of Birmingham. I later find out that the Solihull people don’t like to call it Birmingham – even my cousin and his wife don't!

The kid is a good boy. Very quiet, but very expressive. Soon we become friends. House is nice and warm. There is home made Indian food. And lot of things to catch up on. We talk till late in the night go to sleep after making plans of hitting the road the next day!

***

After a lazy breakfast, grocery shopping and library visit at a local community centre, we are on the road. Off to Sheffield to see another cousin. This time I am at the back seat, but the kid is with me. We take the M1 – which is a major highway (freeway?) – to north. The address in Sheffield is tricky, we get lost because we don’t have a roadmap and my cousin isn’t particularly good with directions. We see the same streets of Sheffield so many times that now I know every street of Sheffield by heart! Better than anybody else.

After a heavy lunch and catching up with the cousin in Sheffield, we are ready to leave. I want too see the countryside, I demand. So we take very small roads through the Peak District – Totley, Baslow, Bakewell, Matlock; and then Nottingham (yay! The Robin Hood stories), Derby and back. Somewhere near Matlock, we drive along the Derwent River. The drive has some of the most scenic places of Peak District. There are small towns, and the shops are all closed by now.

***

East Midlands railways’ station called Whatstandwell. We stop here for the kid’s dinner. It’s about 10 PM and cold outside. But I insist on getting out. It’s a very small and pretty station. The station has only one platform, but there is an old wooden bridge going overhead, into the hills. The sign on it says “Weak Bridge: Only 10 persons”. I check the time table, there isn’t going to be any train passing by at this time.

***

I come back to Marlow on late Sunday night. Solihull - High Wycombe in a train and a bus ride back to Marlow. The ticket costs damaging 23 pounds. heck! I should've planned my journey... Planning and booking over internet is the key here! I am tired – after traveling more than 400 miles during the weekend. But the weekend was worth it, for I had an amazing time!

The UK diaries # 2 : What's the story, Morning glory...

Mornings are wonderful here. Since there are heaters in whole of the B&B, temperature is controlled here. Breakfast is filling, healthy and tasty. So until I come out of the place, I don’t realize (realise? Damn, this autocorrect didn’t even let me write that with an S) how cold it is outside. It is cold but in a pleasing way. Young men are taking jog, school kids are going to schools, oldies are taking walks. It has probably rained in the night—everything looks clean and fresh. Walk to office is 15 minutes and I enjoy every bit of it. Marlow – High Wycombe (pronounced wee-cum) is a terrible road in terms of traffic. But if you wish to cross the road, people in fast moving cars stop, and give you the way. They nod. It’s a mutual understanding.

I guess my mental health is rapidly recovering.

***

The landlady—Christine—asks me one day which place in India I am from. She brings a big world map which has tiny golden stars placed all over it. I show her a place between two starts. Oh, that must be very close to Goa then… lucky you! Well, so the old lady does have some idea about India. Not bad, me thinks.

Still wondering, I ask her what the stars on the map are. In a typical brit accent she says, you know, those are the places my husband and I have traveled to.

There are at least 100 of them, scattered all over the world. Some 10 odd in India. Apparently these guys visit Goa every year. The respect just multiplies by hundred.

***

My dad writes me in an email – “As I see, for B&B you may be paying 60 Pounds/day. But the lodge looks nice and clean on net. Mrs Lasenby may not be. God bless her.” He further adds - “Lets see how you seduce Mrs Lasenby. You can offer her free B&B at 28 Pratibhanagar, Kolhapur while in India!”

Free B&B while in India? Good idea. Seduce? Yeah, right!

The UK diaries # 1 : Who is Indira Gandhi !

I am in the United Kingdom after 9 hours of flight journey, and I am damn tired. Heathrow is such a painful place. Immigration check seems to be taking ages to complete. I am tired of explaining the dumb lady at the counter what Intellectual Property means. She gives me a stare as if I am going to sell the entire property in her beautiful country to some Osama Bin Laden. Heh! I can’t tell her how tired I am, so I try to be as nice as possible.

Heathrow express to Paddington is a beautiful train. It's around 8 in the evening, but there is still enough sunlight outside. The moment the train starts its journey, I start looking out, and instantaneously fall in love with the country. Everything is neat, clean and pretty. Some of the people I have met so far are surprisingly friendly and generous. Good times are here to stay, I think!

I am tired, and wonder if that is what they call the jet lag.

***

Maidenhead train station. We need to figure out a way to go to Marlow--which, we know--is around 5 miles from here. There is not single soul at the station and the ticket window is closed. I come out. It is slightly chilly, but I am enjoying it. I spot a guy--an employee at the railway station. He gives me directions to a cab, but warns that the cab is going to cost me a fortune. Instead, we can take a train, which will leave for Marlow in anothre 13 minutes (The infamous Marlow donkey, more on that later). How do I get the tickets, I ask. No need ya, just hop on! Marlow is pretty close; nobody is going to ask you for a ticket. In case someone does, you pay him 3 and a half pounds!

Interesting.

I am in a dilemma. Want to take a cab, but this guy insists on taking the train. I randomly take out my wallet and check for some cash. He spots a 500 Indian rupee note. Hey what’s that… he asks. I say it is five hundred Indian rupees. He takes a close look at it and asks me, who is this? Is it Indira Gandhi?

I decide to take the cab.

***

We take the cab and pay 12 pounds for a 5 mile ride. This country is attrociously expensive. I sleep--the moment I see the bed welcoming me.

The B&B we are staying at, is a small place. Much smaller and nicer than what I had expected after looking at the website. The landlady, Mrs. Lanseby, is an old lady in her 70s. While she appears to be very nice, she has her own ways of being cranky.

Breakfast is English, because this part of the country is English. English-English – the 'hardcore' English. The people are 'Stiff Upper Lip' Brits, that’s what makes the whole thing really interesting.

Trivial update

Three months. Of not writing at this space. Like a friend of mine would say 'much water has flowed under the bridge since then'. Well, I wouldn't know if it has.

Watching 2+ hours of movies has never been my cup of tea. It has always been plain boring. But this time, I have made myself watch a lot of movies, and most of them have been new, and -- I must confess -- really worth watching. No country for old men, My left foot (or the story of Christy Brown), Juno, Hard Candy (watch the two and fall in love with Ellen Page), Eastern Promises, A history of violence, 3:10 to Yuma, There will be blood, Holiday, North by Northwest et cetera. Now that we have established that our kind of music is long dead, there hasn't been new on the music front. Except for the unbelievable news that Led Zepp might be reuniting. Fingers crossed. Some of the books read have been disappointing, not worth a mention. Some of them have been brilliant. Like Chowringhee by Sankar (an English translation of a Bengali novel), and In Xanadu by William Dalrymple (Tough trivia: What is common between these two books?). Traveling to Delhi happened often, and an excellent restaurant was discovered. Traveling to Chakrata (a place 100 kms from Dehradoon) and Mumbai happened. Nothing great. By the way, that excellent restaurant -- Sam's Cafe at the roof-top of hotel Vivek at Paharhganj -- deserves a dedicated post. Besides all this, life has been OK-ish.

OK-ish is uneventful and dull. Goodbye and have a nice time. And till the time I am back, do check out something from the above mentioned things (if you haven't already).

Taare Zameen Par -- A must watch | Followed by personal (frustrated) rant

Happened to get tickets to Taare Zameen Par on its very first day of release – yesterday. It's surprising when you randomly walk into a mall and get tickets for such a movie on day-1, immediately, cheap etc. So there I was, after a nice dinner at Bernardo's (remember, this is the Christmas time!). PVR was crowded like never before, like the Indian Railway Stations (or Airports, these days). After body frisking from those Gay losers at PVR, the next three hours were like being in paradise!

A paradise of my own thoughts, that is. And yes, of course, the movie.

I could relate to the movie in more than one ways. Directorial debut of Aamir, and boy, what a masterpiece he has come up with! The last Hindi movie that I had liked so much was RDB. Bottomline: Aamir hardly fails to impress you these days. He has turned into something like a good ol' wine.

I won't put any spoilers here (like Aamir not being there in the movie till the intermission etc.) Go watch it if you haven't yet. You will have a brilliant time with some excellent acting by multiple people, some extraordinary music, some unusually refreshing animated sequences that fit into the movie just perfectly, directorial magnificence. GO.

I have (perhaps temporarily) come out from the state of mindfucked-ness, and I am more than happy for that. Somehow my life had become shitty over a last few days, although there were quite a few folks coming to Gurgaon to see me. I had a great time with all of them; it was a cheerful time-well-spent, lot of talks with the friends that seem they are from the yesteryears, excellent food and wine etc. I read quite a few good books, some of them of the types that leave a mark on you. The extraordinary types. But somehow, something just isn't sinking in. And I don't know what it is. Maybe I do know, but don't want to accept it. Can't accept it. Life has its own strange ways to play with me, I guess.

Note to self: A home trip shall be–MUST BE–planned sometime really soon, or else you are going to die in this living hell. Rotting has already begun, and the temporary happiness – that Taare Zameen Par or the good friends have brought – is not going to make any difference to you.

Sigh

From: GapingVoid.

I. Salute.

The community needs to stop being a community, a vote-bank, a lump or a mass. It needs to reject responsibility based on identity.

... Annie Z.

Random Posts with a Random Serial No - #2734627

There isn't really a purpose behind writing this post. I have been getting sick of seeing 'Definition of (something as gross as) Rape' on top of this page for quite a while now. Besides, life has been relatively good these days. Especially last six weeks or so.

Firstly, Twenty-20 was immense fun. Indians ruled, and all the matches were watched in groups of at least 4-5, with unlimited supply of beer and a lot of superstitious behaviour, shouting, cursing and what not!

Secondly, winter is here. Yay! It feels great after more-than-seven months of unbearable heat, dust (which, unfortunately still remains here), power cuts, and frustration. The occassional chill when you take out the bike for a ride in the evenings, sitting on the terrace and sipping rum, misty mornings, cleaning up the winter clothes n innumerable coffees on weekends, the feeling of i-dont-want-to-get-up-dammit in the mornings on weekdays... that sort of a thing.

Among other things, work-wise, last month or so was disastrous. Total lethargy. But what the heck. The kind people here actually honoured me with an award -- i am sure for -- all the good that was done before this month. And it feels somewhat nice too. But then, life has suddenly become hectic like it never was!

Among few other things, The Gods are making a comeback. This surely deserves a few dedicated words, which will be posted here soon. There is definitely something about these guys that makes me go goosebump-y everytime I listen to them.

Among few other things, F1 has been brilliant this time. When there was no T-20, much beer was consumed while watching those races. It was definitely one of the best seasons since I started following F1 (back in 1994). For a change, there was no Schumi. Almost all the races were fair and there was a powerful competition between the giants. Hamilton was 'my man' this season -- for I know what it takes for a Rookie to handle such a pressure -- so I was kinda disappointed in the last few races. Alonso and Massa were never my favourites, and you can't possibly do anything about someone as cool as The Finn - especially when he has the shiny red Ferrari. He did it in quite a fashion, I must confess.

Another good thing that I remember from the last few weeks is that I have started reading again. Have been reading a lot of books about the Small-town America in 50s and 60s. Believe me, it is great fun. A few dedicated words about those books also deserve to be posted here.

I sign off, with hope and promises of returning back soon.

Definition of 'Rape'

Here.

A brilliant weekend - Sultanpur National Park

It's a well known fact that Gurgaon is a screwed up place. Back in time, when we were not in Gurgaon, we had many options of spending weekends in fun. We had too many places to go to, to have a nice time. These days, the fun is limited to malls, movies, drinking etcetera. Basically, no fun. Because of Gurgaon. And we spend a lot of money too.

But then, on one particularly boring late-afternoon at work, I happened to read on Neha's W'in/W'out that there exists a place called Sultanpur, it happens to be a bird sanctuary and it happens to be a stone's throw away from Gurgaon! Birds have always fascinated us. So off we went immediately. Screwed rest of the work, needless to say.

And boy, was it worth screwing the work! Bike journey wasn't particularly great, but the weather was nice. By the time we reached there, it was 6pm and the park was closed. But a mere look from outside was good enough for me to get an idea what must be in there. There is a nice resort called Rosy Pelican -- lawns, cottages and a restaurant. Had a snack there and came back, hoping to put a proper trip sometime soon.

Next couple of days went in excitement, and finally, on a Saturday morning, there we were, three of us, after a seemingly impossible journey through a majorly fucked up road and a flat tire. It must be almost 9 by the time we finished a quick breakfast and entered the Sultanpur National Park. Not a great time for bird-watching, I thought. Besides, it's September.

Ideally -- yes -- it is not a very good time to begin. But then how many times do we get to go to such a place! Temperature was rising and we soon started sweating. We must be the only three crazy souls in there. In fact I doubt how many visitors that place gets. Of course, lesser the better. And we could see that. The place is very well maintained and surprisingly, very very clean. A paradise -- one can say.

There is a small museum that has photos of almost all the birds that you get to see there. There are charts about the routes of migrated birds. There is a lake in the middle of the park and a well built track around it. Quite a few trees, both along the lake and inside the lake. The walk, if you take the built track, is around 3 kms. Being the first-timers, we followed the track. Soon we found another crazy soul -- Ravi, a Motorola corporate -- with his stunning Cannon SLR. He was quite an enthusiast and accompanied us for rest of the trip.

I think those people must have got bored with my everlasting 'gyaan' monologues about birds. But I had a wonderful time -- for there were (surprisingly) too many birds. To begin with, there was a cormorant with its trademark feather-drying position. A pair of weaver birds, three huge Common Cranes, flocks of Jungle Babblers (the seven sisters), heronaries with lots of Grey Herons, Storks and Egrets on them, White Storks in flight, Dabchicks taking thier trademark dips in water occassionally, Peacoks and Peahens, Grey Hornbill -- few interesting sites among others.

During the lunch at Rosy Pelican's restaurant, when I wrote down the birds we spotted on a tissue paper, I was surprised to see a list of around thirty species of birds -- quite a few of them being unusual for a place like Gurgaon. The trip was good fun, except maybe the wrong-time part. I can only imagine how beautiful it must be in November-December. Naturally, frequent visits will happen. I hope I get a few snaps from Ravi, and sincerely hope that the Haryana Government fixes the fucked up road to that place :)

Birds spotted include - 1) Hoopoe 2) Baya (Weaver bird) 3) Indian Roller (not Blue Jay!) 4) Darter 5) Cattle Egrets 6) Grey Herons 7) Grey Hornbill 8) Dabchicks 9) Cormorants 10) Indian Parakeets (not Parrots!) 11) Rufous Backed Shrike 12) Small or Green Bee-eater 13) Coots 14) Common Cranes 15) Drongos 16) Peacock/Peahen 17) White Breasted Kingfisher 18) _______ Munia (need to look up for the species) 19) Jungle Babblers 20) Pied Bushchat (not sure whether it was Grey Tit) 21) Crow Pheasant 22) Common Crows 23) Ring Doves 24) Indian Rock Pigeon 25) Partrige 26) Common Swallows 27) Tree Pie 28) Shikra 29) Purple Sunbirds 30) House Sparrows (surprising!!) 31) White Stork (need to confirm). etc. Besides spotted two Sambars and a Snake.

It's a must-visit place (preferably in winters) for all the enthusiasts staying in and around Delhi/Gurgaon. Rosy Pelican provides excellent accomodation if you are planning an overnight stay. Food and acco is not-very-expensive. Btw, Thanks a lot for the recommendation, Neha.

Interested? Contact us at --

Learning-to-fly club,
C/O The 'real' Bird Watchers' Society,
H-84, Residency Grceens, Sector 46, Gurgaon 122002.

***

PS: Gurgaon still sucks. I am on a forced holiday at home today -- a Zen hit me from behind yesterday night. Nothing serious, a few bruises here and there. Major body ache. It hurts. What hurts more is the uncivilized people here. Mothefuckas. Gurgaon sucks. That reminds me -- during our introduction-phase, Sush asked this Ravi chap "Are you 'basically' from Gurgaon?"... He promptly replied "Nobody is!" Bang on. Heh!

Note to self: Binaculors are must for the subsequent visits.

Directions for the interested - Sultanpur is around 15 kms from old Gurgaon. Go straight on the Rajiv Chowk - Old Gurgaon road till you hit a green mosque on right. Take a left there to join the Gurgaon-Faruqpur road. It's a bad-in-parts road, but the closest one. Alternatively, one can go on Gurgaon-Patuadi road and then take a right for Faruqpur at the appropriate place. But that's just double the distance :) Rosy Pelican Tourist Complex (Run by Haryana Tourism Corporation Ltd). Ph - 0124-2375242 (notice the 0124 std code!) and 9896371358. A lunch/dinner typically costs INR 150 and an AC double room INR 900.Nice accommodation and decent food. Finally one promise -- you won't go and spoil the place with plastic/garbage/beer bottles etc. What are you waiting for! GO.

Sloth

I have become too old :(

Orkut or Facebook?

For me, the answer is Orkut. I realised it pretty late, though. Or perhaps I never thought about it. I have never been very fond of social networking, nor do I consider myself to be a social animal. I know, these statements are contradictory with the fact that there are 500+ friends in my friends-list and 100+ fans on Orkut. But this is what happens when you are liked by one and all you know. Of course, I do secretly list them as 'friends' or 'acquaintances' -- but you can't always deny friends requests when you live in such a small world.

I joined Orkut sometime in 2004, if I remember it right. Those were the days of final year engineering, the thing was new, we had time and all that. Naturally, we wasted quite some time scrapping people "Hey-dude-'ssup" and "Long-time-no-hear-baby" kind of things. And got replies like "Im-fine-brotha-whatchya-doin-these-days" or "So-nice-to-hear-from-you-(but)-I-got-married" n blah. The point was, it was all worthless. Even the arbitest discussions in the arbitest forums. Keeping track of fan-count. Sugary testimonials.

But today, when I don't even have time to wipe my a$s properly, these things have stopped. I no longer entertain such scraps. In fact, I no longer get such scraps from the people that are still jobless enough to send them (do note that I have not used words 'dumb enough not to realise its worthlessness'). Community discussions no longer matter to me. I use this medium of 'keeping-in-touch' only when I need to send a quick message (which, again, is not very personal and priority-wise low one) to one of my 'friends'. Acquaintances do not exist for me anymore.

Let me tell you, I always remain a great fan of emails. On an average, I send more personal emails from my work than work related emails. And most of them are longish ones. I frequently use my cell phone as well. So the point is, when I can be in touch with people I have to, why do I need to use Orkut? When we are at it, quickly read this excellent post by Dilip: To stay in touch.

One simple reason is that it's a fact that I have discovered some of the long-lost friends through Orkut, and now I am in 'proper' touch with them through other personal means of communication. Besides, not everybody is as comfortable with email as medium of communication. If some of those 'matter to me', I'd rather use Orkut to be in touch with them. It's a fact that scraps on Orkut is a slightly casual way of communication, and hence some people are more comfortable with it.

And then there came this Facebook. I joined it a few months back and realised that it is an utter waste of time. Almost all the people I have seen on Facebook have an Orkut account. Now unless you want to throw.. er... chuck weird ass things at your friends, or boast about the number of books you've read, or give your buddies virtual spanks or hugs or kisses, or draw meaningless drawings for them, or join groups with weirdest names you can ever come across, or compare best of your friends with each other, or ask your friends useless questions, OR you are jobless enough to do the things mentioned, why do you need facebook? Just because it is new, or it looks funkier than Orkut (is it??), or it offers few of the extraordinarymost functionalities that I am not aware of?

I am not starting a debate here. Please note that this is a very personal opinion. Orkut has all the things that I might expect a social networking site to have, and I don't really need the funkiness that Facebook offers. Indians seem to be sentimental with the communities like "great facebook race - the Indians". They want to outnumber Americans on facebook or something. Females want to outnumber males and vice versa. But why?? [I do understand facebook has a wider, global audience. That just multiplies your chances of getting random sex through a social networking site, doesn't it?? Enough of that poking baby, let's just get in the bed! Yeah, right.]

Just for the records, Orkut has a brand-new look which I feel is pretty decent. And I am sure they have many more 'new' things in store. One of my close buddies works for the Orkut team, but he seems to be getting all the hate mails these days. It's a tough job that he is doing, and best wishes of Orkutters will always be with him.

Big rant, this one.

Anyway, the bottomline: It's Orkut for me, and I don't really care what it is for you.

Now this sounds like one of those communities - oops - 'groups' on Facebook, doesn't it??

Bang on...

Dear Ones

Two dedications to two good friends (courtesy - recent home trip):

This one is to you, S:

She'll lead you down a path
There’ll be tenderness in the air
She'll let you come just far enough
So you know she’s really there
She'll look at you and smile
And her eyes will say
She's got a secret garden
Where everything you want
Where everything you need
Will always stay
A million miles away

[Secret Garden by Bruce Springsteen]

And this one's to you, B:

I was five and he was six
We rode on horses made of sticks
He wore black and I wore white
He would always win the fight

Bang bang
He shot me down, bang bang
I hit the ground, bang bang
That awful sound, bang bang
My baby shot me down

[Bang bang by Nancy Sinatra]

Nostalgically yours,
O

ZZZZzzzzz... ... .. .

There is a monster inside me.

It's a strange one. Strange, because it is harmless. It's like one of those nice ones in movies like Monsters Inc - Cute, peaceful, harmless, and loved by me. It's The Sleep. My sleep. My beauty sleep. The Monster.

Soon I shall be turning 24. Though I feel much older than that, it's a fact that more than half of my life has been dedicated to this monster. My average sleep so far has peacefully been more than 12 hours a day. 12 hours a day makes in more than 12 years, cumulatively. However, my parents reckon it to be much more than that.

There is no evidence of whether my eyes were closed when I took birth, but it's a well known fact that this cute little baby used to be deep asleep more than 22 hours a day for almost more than the entire first year of his life. Relatives and neighbours used to come to our house to see me, only to find me .. umm... deep asleep. Lucky were those, who managed to see me awake.
We'd have day time school and only Saturdays used to be morning school. Never. Ever. In. My. Life. Have. I. Managed. To. Attend. The. School. On. A. Saturday.

Serious.

My parents are great. They too never forced me to attend the school. The teachers must have been great too, for I was never asked by them either. I am extremely thankful to them all. At times, I'd go to my aunt's place during the lunch break, and doze off, only to find myself 'up' sometime during late evening. Post school hours. Great is my aunt's family too.

Though quite active with my chilhood friends and sports, I'd usually doze off before 9 PM, for I had to wake up for school the next day at arounf 9 AM. Sundays was a different thing. I especially loved afternoon naps. My hometown weather used to be beautiful. So I'd just touch the ground with my left cheek flat, and sleep for hours.

Thankfully, I always did well (academics-wise) in my school, and managed to get away without getting screwed for this habit of bunking big time. In my junior college (what is called as +2), nobody ever cared. I hardly attended the college. Those were, in fact, better days of my life. There was freedom (no uniform, a vehicle with me, carefree life in college, some money as well), there were girls (a handful of pretty ones too), new friends n that sort of a thing. But all I did was, I went to my grandma's house, watched some TV, surfed some internet, and slept. And slept like never before.

I had early tuitions for physics in my class 12. It used to be around 6:30 in the morning. I always feared of talking wrong things (college days and the freedom, you know) in sleep, so I would lock my room door from inside and put a couple of alarms to wake me up. Every day, my father, who slept in adjacent room, came and knocked on the door - 'Son, your (irritating) alarm has been ringing for almost half an hour. The whole colony is awake, what (the fu*k) are you doing!!'. I always reched late for the class.

The monster had completely taken over me.

Everybody including I thought the days to come - the days at BITS Pilani - would be better. And what a false thought it was... attendance was not compulsory at BITS, there were individual rooms, and I soon discovered a gang of people who carried these monsters of different sizes inside them. Classes, even exams were missed. Grades de-graded.

But the life was enjoyed.

I can go on and on and on with the stories of this monster. Maybe I will write a series of dedicated posts about it, but the bottom line is, I always loved to sleep, and never, ever did I regret it. Because I have this theory - more you sleep, sharper your brain is. Or it becomes eventually.

Plenty of examples to back me up. One of my very good friends from BITS is a prodigy. It's a well known fact that he is a prodigy. A true genius. Numero Uno at everything he does. Even at sleeping. It's a well known fact that he sleeps more than I do. Many others whom I have known to have this monster inside them, have made it big, or they're going to make it big.
I sincerely urge you to sleep more and more. Optimize your time, folks. If you don't believe me, and live with your insomnia, I will always pity you. Because I will always be smarter than you. Ahead of you. You will be a waste.

Go. ZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..... ... .... ... ... .. .

Have anything to contribute? Please write to us at -

The hidden 'monster' group

c/o Eat-sleep-and-be-merry society

28, Pratibhanagar, Kolhapur 416008, Maharashtra, India

Apologies

Sarcasm is a dangerous thing.

I should have learned this much earlier.

But then some things don't change.

One of them is the way I talk.

To my friends.

Sarcastically.

I don't always mean every thing I say.

And these friends are one of the best ones I have got.

Sometimes I push it too hard.

And the person gets offended.

Not always he/she understands that I didn't mean it.

And I lose.

Not the person.

But 'something'.

What that something is, I have never realised.

But I know I have lost something.

I don't apologise.

Because I 'expect' the other person to understand me.

Because the other person is my good friend.

And because I 'understand' him/her well.

Someone had once said to me...

That people have egos bigger than their hearts.

She was so right.

I lose that 'something'.

But still remain friends.

I apologise now.

To all those good friends.

I hope I haven't lost anything.

And you too.

Sarcasm is a dangerous thing.

Light

Today is a particularly tiring day at work. I am searching through the patent database like crazy. Analyzing patents like mad. Nothing seems to come out of it. And with the Google Reader downtime, the usual frequent breaks for reading some interesting stuff are missing. Frustration level rises as the clock ticks. By the end of the day, I am so tired that the letters seem jumbled and the diagrams in the patents fail to make any sense. I analyze on. More and more patents. Somehow things start making sense. I start getting what my client is looking for, from the crazy database of millions of patents. Zeroing on to one, two, three 'killer' patents later, I call it a day. It has been a fruitful day, afterall. There's light at the end of a dark tunnel.

As I start walking towards my bank which is kind enough to serve free Barista coffee to its customers, I wonder if there always is light at the end of a dark tunnel. Maybe not. I am so tired that I am not able to recall best of my stories. I take the Iced Cafe Mocha, withdraw some money from the ATM machine. The invention of the ATM machine must be 'that' light for someone. As I sip my coffee and walk towards my bike, I realize that my machine that runs on two wheels must be 'that' light for someone. Suddenly, there is a bad standstorm with lightening. I walk faster, take my bike and start riding it home.

The sandstorm is so bad that I am barely able to ride. I don't wear a helmet, and even when I almost completely shut my eyes, the dust doesn't let me ride anymore. I stop, curse, restart the bike, curse some more and start riding again. The dust storm continues. Lightening continues. I continue riding. And wondering if there always is light at the end of a dark tunnel.

If it starts raining before I reach home, I can tell you. That there is...

The Food Blah #2 - Karim's

Food is the name of the game, folks! Food, and more food it has been happening for past couple of months. With a lot of work, ahem, not to let me write anything about it. Well, here goes....

Karim's [aka The Heaven]

(Warning: Do not attempt to read further if you are not a true non-vegetarian. My views at times can be really disturbing to veggies)

You deserve to be called a 'loser' if you ever have been to Delhi and haven't been to this place. This is the place that defines excellent Mughlai food. Words, of course, fail to describe the heavenly taste of the food that Karim's serves.

The only reason why I hadn't written about this place is because I hadn't eaten a special dish there called Tandoori Raan. It's a killer. A complete piece of lamb leg, with masalas that have been kept a trade secret by these people, cooked in a Tandoor and served as a whole. Occupies almost half your table, and serves more than 3 people peacefully. I hadn't attempted this mouth watering thing because I never had enough company in few of my initial visits to Karim’s. Once a group of fantastic four went there, forgot about all the rules of a civilized society, and had a time of their lives! Such joy - of eating with both hands when hundred envious people are continuously staring at you.

Oh by the way, since I am a great fan of chicken, and a greater fan of mutton, I haven't tasted many of the chicken dishes there. But most of the mutton dishes do have their chicken counterparts.

Burra. Another legendary dish. It has spices similar to Raan, but smaller mutton pieces make it easier for a single person to consume it :) Along with it go fresh rings of onion, lime and excellent green chutney made of mint, green chilies, and coriander leaves. Seekh Kebabs are another good option for starters, but I find the kebabs here too spicy - with a lot of cardamom, saffron and similar spices. I'd rather prefer the roadside kebabs that you get at... well, let's talk about 'where', later.

Come the main course, and you will realize you shouldn't have stuffed yourself with so much of starters. Specialties are mutton Jahangiri Quorma (A spicy hot Mughlai favourite), mutton stew (tender mutton pieces cooked with a lot of garlic, curd and spices), Lazeez Murgh Saag (chicken cooked in spinach gravy), and Baadhshai Badam Pasanda (Mutton cooked with curd and finely chopped almonds and almond paste) among other things.

Tandoori rotis is perhaps the widely available form of Indian bread. But here at Karim's, it takes a whole different form. I don’t know if these guys are magicians, but the tandoori roti that you get at Karim's, you won't find it anywhere else. It’s a thick, soft, pale yellow bread. A mild sourness makes it yummy. Roomali roti is equally good too. I haven't tasted Biryanis over here, but I am sure they will kick butts as hard!

If you are thinking I am praising them too much, or I am getting paid to advertise for them, I am sorry, but you must eat there. Here are the details, please to visit:

Hotel Website Press Reviews that say it all Menu About

The original Karim's that began serving royal food to the masses in 1913, is in the famous Kebabian Lane near Jama Masjid in Old Delhi. I strongly recommend it for the first timers - for its ambience, people, service ... you know what I mean. There is one at Nizamuddin and one in Gurgaon. Never been to the Nizammudin one, but the Gurgaon one serves equally tasty food for (surprisingly) almost same costs. Gurgoan one is located in sector 14.

Sometime later, when I am not in a mood to praise Karim's, I will write about this Kebabian Lane of Old Delhi, where I ate better Seekh Kebabs. If someone considers himself a giant at eating non-veg, there is this stuffed bakra (a full Bakra stuffed with Chicken, Biryani and spices) for just INR 4000. Place an order 24 hours before, garb a 5 liter bottle of Black label, and what you will get is an unbelievably happy concept of a real weekend ;)

Food Blah #1 here.

Feel free to direct your burps at:

“Eat-drink-and-be-merry” Group
c/o Food lovers' Association
H-84, Residency Greens, Sector 46, Gurgaon 122002.
(We appreciate good tips about good places. You might get lucky if you are with us.)

Test...

Test post from http://draft.blogger.com/ and will be deleted soon. Great joy comes while posting from office. Life is uncertain and no one knows what tomorrow is going to bring.

Gurgaon is a fucked up * place...

It's hot. H-O-T. You can't imagine how much. Bet. I win.
There is no basic infrastructure. Electricity conks off every now and then. 10 hours a day. Or more.
This city is a bitch.
There is no public transport.
Friendly people? Hullo.... what's that?
And what is rain? Fresh air? Talk DUST baby!
People here have scary sense of driving. I don't know whether that is called 'driving' at all.
Expensive. B-l-o-o-d-y E-x-p-e-n-s-i-v-e. I win again.
Not a single cheap and decent restaurant that serves good food.
Want a toothpaste? Drive down 3 kilometers. At least.
Uh.. don't have a car?? Then find a better word than *fucked-up*

Extreme frustration comes. And stays.

$%^()!#%@&$%!^)(!#^$@%^&!)#*!)*#!# .

*@$*^@!#(!&#%$%@&$%@!^$ ^&$(&(*$& (@#(& %@$&*%^*^&@($&@.

%$@#^&@% ^@#$^&*@ &*# !!

A Quick-trip to Pilani

Deson mein des Haryana

Jahan doodh-dahi ka khana
Kheton mein tractor chalana
Rajdoot pe aana-jaana
Hukke ki gudgudi bajana
Aur jab thak jaye, tab -
Haath mein leke, chaddar tann ke so jaana !

[ ~~ thoughts (not my original lines, mind you) while traveling through Haryana today]

A quick Pilani trip - it must be the quickest anyone has ever made. One of the pals had some work with a professor. Left Gurgaon at 7:30 in the morning, and back home at 7:30 in the evening :)

***

A 'drive-through' McDonalds, on the outskirts of Gurgaon. Probably the only McD that opens at 7:00 in the morning. I don't insist on some delicious dhaba paranthas today, because sometimes it is just not worth to convince a metrosexual dude and a woman. Breakfast is nice, though. And there is a funny couple with a cute girl. The dad's wearing a Superman T-shirt. I wonder if that is his own choice, or his wife's or the baby's. More I see such things around these days, more I belive that anything is possible!

***

Weather seems to be nice outside, because we are in an air conditioned car. When we step out, we realise that it isn't all that great. But the jaat brothers out there - especially the Taaus - seem to be having wonderful time. Smoking hukkahs, playing cards and cursing each other in Haryanvi. I find them fascinating, and respect them a great deal. There is a bunch of women, all Taais, sitting in a three wheeler and singing incomprehensible songs. The whole clan is of women, except a Taau who is driving. They give us wary smiles as we pass by. I start developing more and more respect for these Haryanvis.

***

Ek jaat sau (100) barabar,
Parha-likha jaat Bhagwan barabar.

Indeed.

***

We hit Pilani in less than four hours. It is hot, it must be hot, but we find it bearable than the Gurgaon heat. After all it is Pilani. It looks awfully deserted now. All the students have gone home. We relax a bit at Chimpoo's, chat with him for a while, head for the insti, get the work done, hit Sky. Everything seems to be lifeless. Pappu isn't there at Sky. I order my 'ek coffee.... gas pe re, machine pe nahin', only to find it tasteless. I believe the things haven't changed. It's just that the people aren't there. I am right. It's about time we left. Some other time, maybe. What is Pilani without people?

A desert.

***

On our way back, we take the unusual Loharu-Satnali-Mahendragarh-Rewadi-Gurgaon route. The road is narrow, but in much better condition than the usual Narnaul-Singhana-Chirawa one. It was built some years back for Army vehicles, someone tells us. Somewhere in the middle of it, we find a "Ghat ahead" sign… road is a bit windy, but not enough to be qualified as a Ghat. It's a barren land all around. Weather's become peaceful now. The drive back home is awesome. With a dash of Cranberries, Dylan, Blue Oyster Cult, Beatles, Pearl Jam, Fuzon, Nusrat, and the songs from Life in a Metro.

[Pic: Three of us four, at the so called 'Ghat', the car in the background]

***

An evening Chai-break results in a bill of Rs 14. I pay the shopkeeper a 10er and 2 new coins of 2. We are used to these infamous coins by now. But to my surprise, the people in this village have never seen these coins before. We have a tough time convincing them that the coins are real. The year says 2005. That surprises me even more. Out of nowhere, an elderly Taau - the wise man - makes an appearance. He's been to Delhi, and has seen the coins before. The shopkeeper and his friends don't only accept the coins now; they ask us if we have more of them. We give them two more. Smiles on everyone's face. The day is made.

First rain

There is no limit to the magnitude of joy that first rain can bring. And if there are little girls from neighbourhood singing songs of yesteryears for you, and dancing carefree, your day is made. It doesn't matter if you are not able to sing and dance with them anymore.

She's Always a Woman to Me
Piano Man
River of Dreams
Vienna
Uptown Girl
We didn't Start the Fire

So many memories... Thanks for everything and Happy b'day, Billy!

Disconnected

YOU:

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......... ....... ..... ..

ME:

Mwahahahahhahahhaha.... FUCK YOU !

Disheartened

Been busy. Been lazy. A comment by unknown Tusharika (what a neat name!) on the previous post made me realise that there was so much that I wanted to write in last couple of months, but just didn't write. So here are some quick notes from my sms drafts / memory:

When I went home couple of months back, it was festive time. A friend's wedding followed by a family get-together in that heavenly place, Mahabaleshwar:

***

Huge MTDC (Maharashtra Tourism Development Corporation) resort. A cottage meant for three people, but can easily accommodate six-seven. Old Brit styled. Huge bathrooms. Wooden finish to everything. Mirrors with two stands to mount lanterns on it. A very cozy place. Uncles, aunts, cousins - that cheerful lot. A perfect setup for endless hours of fun, talk, drinks and ARAAM!

***

Al-Saba strawberry garden restaurant on Old Mahabaleshwar road. Strawberry shake with strawberry ice cream, whipped cream and fresh strawberries. Rose ice cream. Maharashtrian style Pithala Bhakri. Kharda. Very very hospitable Maharashtrian people. I ask the owner to make some kharda to take home. We ARE potential customers and it IS off-season, but still he makes kharda that will last for more than a week for such a giant group of mirchi-hogs. Green chillies, fresh grated coconut, lots and lots of garlic, red chilli powder - crushed in a mixer and garnished with some hot oil, little coriander powder and mustard. Quite different from our usual preparation, but mindblowing taste. Me not a great fan of strawberry flavour, but this fresh stuff blows my mind off.

***

Death by strawberries, though, happens when we visit the Mapro factory outlet on the way back. Beautifully designed place with a huge garden, flowers all over, taste-it-for-free counters for all their products, a cafeteria and finally, a retail outlet. Overdose of those deadly desserts! Ooh my growing belly… :(

***

The weather is really pleasant. I am taking a walk, alone, on one of the thousand Mahabaleshwar roads that look alike. Dark tar roads with red borders and dense trees on both the sides. I see a couple walking up ahead, as I crush the dry mango leaves under my feet. Suddenly I feel very lonely - for there is no one to wrap my arm around. This is a familiar sad feeling that I have been fighting for a while now. I hear the 'happy hours' from our cottage window, and my feet automatically turn that side.

***

And then last weekend, I put a nice, nice trip to this nice, nice place called Pachmarhi. But more on that sometime later. Before I end, here's a beautiful piece that I read on starryeyedwanderer's blog in the morning:

I have this happy, positive feeling inside me. But I don't know where it comes from. It's not like anything overt has happened to bring this on. More like I woke up in the morning and it just felt like everything was going to be great. Or at least an above average ok.

(I hope, though, that I haven't mistaken a sudden surge of blind and fatal optimism for an intuitive sense of what tomorrow will bring.)

I was getting a similar feeling in mind for last few days. Whatever that is, sadly, both the things didn't work for me. Nothing happened. Can somebody tell that to her?

[Signs off with an extremely disappointed heart]

The Food Blah #1

If someone is wondering what I have been up to lately, the answer is - Eating. Yeah, I have been just eating and putting on weight these days. Checked out quite a few food joints in Gurgaon and Delhi. And finally decided to write down a few things about them, for food has always been a fascinating thing for us :-)

Ammu's (R.I.P)

Alright, let's start with this 'kutty' place. A place that - sadly - no longer exists. Remember thermal and a quarter day? Yeah, that night, before I met the Mallu gang of friends, went to this place. That’s where the beef fry came from. The delicious beef fry - made by that fine gentleman at Ammu's - Ravi. I had been hearing about this Mallu mess for quite some time. Situated near Delhi-Gurgaon boarder on MG road, this was a small filthy congested restaurant. Authentic Mallyalam cuisine. Beef fry, Beef chilly, Kerala Parothas, ten odd different kinds of Appams, Fish fry, Fish curry, Dosai. I had it all, and enjoyed every bit of it. Super cheap. A wholesome meal of Beef fry, Kerala parothas and curry would cost just forty bucks. It was a heavenly experience to have a breakfast there on a cold Sunday winter morning. That fine gentleman Ravi was supposed to make a kg of beef pickle for me. I didn't go to that place for a while, and one fine day it just vanished from there :( I hadn't taken his phone number. If some kind soul has it, please pass it on. I will miss you, Ammu's. But knowing these Mallus, I can confidently say that our man will be back one day. R.I.P.

Village Shoppe (R.I.P)

Q. Why is Italy shaped like a big boot?
A. Because you couldn't get that much shit into a small shoe.

Never mind this. This is aftermath of that hilarious Russell Peters show that I happened to watch (live! Yay!) yesterday. Village Shoppe, another small Italian restaurant which was located in the same building as that of Ammu's has also vanished lately. Village Shoppe was my first introduction to proper Italian food, so I have special sentiments associated to it. First impression of this restaurant was ‘just brilliant!’ I loved the soups (the 'today's special' thing that changed everyday), lasagnas, pastas and salads. A meal would cost around 200 bucks. Pizzas weren’t that great here. Ambience was nice. Small cozy place with appropriate lighting. Not so professional waiters gave this place a different touch altogether. A pretty romantic place this was, all I lacked was a right partner. *sigh*. This place will be back too, I reckon.

Italiano, Gurgaon

The next Italian one was Italiano - and a superb restaurant at that. It took me more than a year before I visited this place.. because I had been a great fan of Village Shoppe till it closed down. Italiano is little bigger, better, has slightly better food, serves great pizzas, is more romantic (let's not get into that again!) and most importantly, serves alcohol! What a delight. Superb ambience and food - one of the few better places in Gurgaon. Beer + Excess of food has been around 400-450 for a single person. I would specially recommend the pizzas (pork ones) and Chicken Ravioli. Brilliant!

About Italiano | Menu | The MD about the restaurant

Ghalib, Nizamuddin

One of the performances of those talented oldies, Skinny Alley at Lodhi Garden Restaurant. You are on a trip, but some bizarre experiences and the overpriced food does not let you eat anything there. [Mind you, getting thrown out from a snobbish restaurant, that too after almost having a fight with the bouncers, and that tooo when it isn't your fault, isn't a very good experience to remember]

Or a Saturday afternoon when you are working your ass off in the office. No lunch. Frustration. Hunger. More hunger.

Q: What's the best thing that you can do?
A: Hit Nizamuddin, which is a couple of kms away. Go to Ghalib. Sit. Eat. Enjoy the Ecstasy!

Mutton Tikka, Mutton Seekh Kebabs, Beef tikka, Beef Seekh Kebabs, Chicken Tandoori, Chicken Tikka, Mutton Quorma, and Rumali Rotis - In that order.

I am not describing the food at any of these places... I wish I was a better writer to do that.

So anyway, Ghalib is a paradise for a true non-veg lover. Situated in the core Muslim localities of Nizamuddin. Thats what adds a real flavour to the food. Everything here can be called as The Real Thing. From Rumali rotis to all the delicious flesh to that amazing dessert - Firni. I don't think it's a great idea to take 'women' there, for this is not a nice place and all to sit. But do you think a real food lover gives a damn to such factors? A must visit kebabs paradise. A person cannot possibly spend more than 150 bucks here :-)

Beef kebabs/tikka @ 16 bucks, Mutton/Chicken Kebabs/Tikka @ 36 bucks. Be there to believe me!

Contact: M. Hanif Qureshi @ 9810786479, 9810786479 - The hospitable ‘786’ Chacha :-)

I have already written about that excellent Goan diner Bernardo's here. More eateries in the next post - The Food Blah #2

Have anything to contribute? Please write to us:

“Eat-drink-and-be-merry” Group
c/o Food lovers' Association
H-84, Residency Greens, Sector 46, Gurgaon 122002.
(We appreciate good tips about good places. You might get lucky if you are with us.)

Black Friday

No spoilers ahead. Read on..

A true Indian ocean fan that I am, if not for anything else, I had wanted to watch 'Black Friday' for past two years - just for its music. That explains my going for a 10:45pm show, that too on a Monday night! Cold,-foggy-night, three people on a bike-with-no-headlamp, a great deal of work piled up in the office, post-movie dense fog and the drizzle. Trust me, the movie was worth everything. It is.

I don’t think the movie needs any introduction. So here are some of the points that I obsrved. Anurag Kasyap, the scriptwriter dude of two of the excellent bollywood movies Satya and Kaun has done an excellent job as the director. Major research must have gone into making this movie - for the simple fact that he hasn’t changed any of the names of people involved in the Mumbai serial blasts. So what if it had to wait for more than 2 long years! IMO, it is one of the most realistic Indian movies ever made. It has a brilliant documentarish feel to it. I haven’t read S. Hussain Zaidi's book so far, but I am sure Anurag hasn’t altered too many things.

Music is wonderful. Pawan Malhotra (Tiger Memon) and Kay kay Menon (The Police Investigator) have performed exceptionally well. So has Aditya Shrivastava, who plays Badshah Khan. The movie seems slightly slow at times, but I give it to Anurag, for he has done justice to these 3 characters by showcasing their mindsets beautifully.

Another point to note is that the movie isn’t biased. Hindus, Muslims and the Police were all fucked up at that time, no doubt. That is exactly what has been shown in the movie. And it is not a simple task, if you think about it.

Background music is dominated by Rahul Ram's magical Bass Guitar. He is by far the most talented bassists around. He defines True International class. I hope Indian Ocean gets a little more attention because of the advertising of Black Friday on TV. Some of the chaps in the office seem to be majorly impressed with this New (???) band called Indian Ocean. Good good!

And that graffiti on the police station cell wall and that chase sequence... they have managed to catch even the minutest details.

Direction - 08/10
Music - 10/10
Overall - 08/10

A must watch. Forget Salam-E-Ishqs and the Traffic Signals. Go grab the tickets for the next show - who knows, some of the morons in this country might make the movie disappear from the theaters for god-knows-what reasons.

It's a bird...

Every day, I have a look at the Wikipedia’s main page and go through it. It’s quite informative, if you didn’t know. Anyway, today’s ‘featured picture’ column had this beautiful picture of Blue Jay. Blue Jay happened to be one of my favourite Indian birds. Ah, those shades of blue! Small or Blue Kingfisher went closer, but I guess I always loved Blue Jay more since it was rarely seen when compared to Kingfishers.


But then the one in the featured picture wasn’t the one I had known! Curious about the whole thing, I went to the Blue Jay wiki entry. And guess what – there wasn’t a single mention of India in the whole article. According to the article, blue jay is a North American bird, and its colour is predominantly lavender-blue. Further, it has a pronounced crest on the head. The colour changes to black, sky-blue and white barring on the wing primaries and the tail. The bird has an off-white underside, with a black collar around the neck and sides of the head and a white face. Now this was something new to me. There were quite a few other things mentioned in that article that I had no idea about.

With increased curiosity and having no ‘Book of Indian Birds’ with me here, I googled for the term and the first hit took me to this pretty well designed site “India Site”. It listes certain facts about blue jay, in which the most interesting one read that it is also called “Indian Roller”. That was quite surprising to me. Well, it’s true that I haven’t been “into” birds (no pun!); I still strongly thought that the two must be different. The scientific names didn’t match. So I finally went to Indian Roller’s wiki entry and there it was… the very first statement read –

The Indian Roller also earlier locally incorrectly called the Blue Jay; (Coracias benghalensis) is a member of the roller family of birds which breeds in tropical southern Asia from Iraq to Thailand.

There! I had hardly thought that the two are different. And I don’t remember if I ever had any confusion between the two.


Anyway, now that we are at it, and if you have little interest in birds… er…. Ornithology, please note this important fact and check out the wikis about these birds. IndiaSite, though it lists the name wrongly (and I have informed them about it), has a very nice collection of header arts. So check that out too! On another side note, I used to say “Roll, Jay” to a friend of mine, but that used to be in some other context (any guesses?).

On yet another side note, I had an old copy of Salim Ali’s The Book of Indian Birds, which I had inherited from my dad’s uncle, who used to be a major bird-lover. Those were the times when I wouldn’t have money to buy the book, but the enthusiasm was plenty. So even though a new (and much better) version of The Book of Indian Birds was released by that time (which was priced Rs. 500 then), I had to compromise on this small-green-old-torn book. But soon it became my best companion! I have, since then, never referred to the new book, I have developed a sort of bond with this one. I lovingly call the old one my BIBLE – Book of Indian Birds – Limited Edition!!

The one after a long time: The one that is mostly meaningless

I am back! [Whistles]

Caution: Arbit personal rant. Maybe a glimpse of what goes on inside this worthless mind. Don't say I didn't warn you.

What a month it has been. Full of fun, joy, excitement, events, happenings, travel, friends, relatives and that sort of a thing - you know. Pretty nice change for someone as dead as yours truly. No, really.

A bunch of childhood friends getting engaged or married need not be the best thing that can happen to you. For a variety of reasons... most of them being very sad. But then it was nice. It had to be nice. It was nice to have some new additions to the already closely-knit group of us, the jokers. And then there were some fifteen of us, the jokers, together, at any given time of those five-six days. Unlike the usual 20-hour beauty sleeps at home when I go back. It was a mixed feeling of happiness and sorrow - something that we, the jokers, probably experienced for the first time. Of course, there used to be those moments of leaving the colleges or houses where we'd spend years together, or the moments when some of us would go abroad, but those used to be the reasons to get wasted-drunk and talk the kind of things that we, the jokers, would not say to each-other otherwise. Nothing of that sort was done this time, making the things worse - leaving me behind confused and sad. Nothing much was said, and since all of us, the jokers, were together, it turned out to be a fun-week. Catching up and all. After all, it is never the last time together. Not even when we left those houses, and not even when our college-lives ended. And it will certainly not be the last time of having fun - even though some of the jokers are not 'bachelors' anymore. Bachelor. A funnily pleasing scary thought.

What worried me more was my falling in love with a stranger - again. Yes... again - in the return flight from Pune to Delhi. Last time was some four months back; details of which need to be withheld for many, many reasons. Anyway, so this time there was this beautiful young lady sitting right next to me. Now there are couple of things... miracles don't happen. Considering the chances of a sane person to fall in love with a Delhi or Pune girl (sorry for this one, but the bitter truths need to be told... what happened to all the FSM n that kind of stuff we talk about!), and the chances of coming across a non-Delhi or a non-Pune girl in a Pune-Delhi flight, and the chances of 'love at first sight' and all happening to yours truly, it must be called a miracle. Yes, that beautiful young lady who read Haruki Murakami when I was shamelessly staring at her, and the one who listened to Jack Johnson on her iPod when I was shamelessly staring at her, the one who daydreamt when I was shamelessly staring at her (I know it for a fact that this happened) and the one who smelt of the best fragrance I have ever known. Oh wait. Why am I even writing about this? It was certainly not one of those three-four readers of this blog. And I haven't gone 'that' insane after all. So anyway, the 2nd January of 2007, Pune-Delhi, 9W366 Jet Airways flight it was. So you charming young lady, yes, you, the one who made my heartbeats skip and lips glued, if you are reading this, well, you know what to do, don't you? Comment space of this blog is all yours :) I only wish your mom and brother weren't with you. The real charmer in yours truly hasn't made his appearance in quite a while now! And he can be a real charmer, mind you.

The mention of year 2007 reminds me, here's wishing you all a wonderful year 2007! It's very likely that I've wished you all personally, for there are only three-four readers of this blog as I told you, but still. This one's to those secret admirers of the blog. And 'that' charming young lady, of course.

There were a few major resolutions that were made in the beginning of this year, but now that twenty-two days have passed since that day... you know... there isn't much left to be written about them. Life has been quite peaceful after that 'happening' home trip. The homeward-bound feeling slowly fades away as I spend more and more time in my lovely bean bag, thinking about things that don't exist. It's a convenient (read sad, but not-so-bad) way of living life, I agree, but do I care much? Nah. A sort of thing that 'that' old kid, an ol' friend of mine mentioned a few days back. Thinking about the things that don't exist, or for that matter 'not' thinking about things - is not bad after all. Where did a question of 'judging' the things come from anyway? Well, just for the records, there is a huge difference between 'judging' and making a judgment. In your professional life or otherwise too (since you don't posses much of a professional life to begin with), you make judgments about things all the time. This, I feel, is perfectly alright. But judging things (especially people) is different. How can you do that if you are not them? You can’t. And that’s the whole point. Makes sense to you ol' kid? So chill. Relax, like I do. Move on. Now this should explain those hearty laughs that day.

Recent recommendations are Catcher in the Rye, The girl (Sonia Faleiro), The Departed, and Guru. Oh sh!t... The King Khan's first eva KBC is ignored because of this worthless rant. I hate you all. My paranoia, KBC and that new bean-bag. Ah, the small things in life. *Sigh*

On Countryside...

A couple of days back on phone, a like minded friend who loves to live a peaceful life like me, mentioned 'if the countryside was little better (developed?), i wouldn't mind staying there for rest of my life'... That's the most funniest thing I've heard in recent times. Think about it!

Argh...

Thermal and a Quarter, 007 !

Sometimes, a combination of strange things can be so much fun. It was one of those days, when I was stuck with three Mallu friends, who were talking in hardcore Mallyalam. It was a petrol Ford Fiesta - the super josh machine. And there were bottles of wine. And there was very well made beef-fry. Ghulam Ali was played. The kind of things that one wouldn't expect to go together. One of those better times, though.

This is when weird thoughts started coming to my mind. Thoughts about this baby Yesterday Once More. What would be the first words it'll say?

I'm blog. Weblog !

Sorry.

The NE Diary #2

We had decided to get up at around 5:30 in the morning, but being the true BITSians that we are, we got up at 7:30. Everybody else in the village was awake by this time and had started working. It was very embarrassing for me. Besides, Nirmal had come to wake us up at 5:30, and we had not got up that time.

We had a quick chai and a pitha (A traditional Assamese small semi-sweet thing made from rice and coconut – with coconut stuffed inside – looks like an idli, but is bigger in size) and by the time I got ready, Kishor and Nirmal were done with Bicycle maintenance. We had 3 cycles with us. We woke up Konkon, took the camera and left immediately.

Weather was nice and cool. Though there was no sign of rain, it was pretty cloudy. Everything looked amazingly fresh and beautiful. Road (?) was kind of muddy in the beginning, but it was quite manageable to ride through it. There were pretty houses on both the sides till we came out of the village. After that, all I could see was a huge green paddy field. Extending up to the horizon. “Where are we going” I wondered and asked Kishor. “Let’s see macha….” Said he.

Soon, I discovered a small muddy path that was going nowhere in particular. Nirmal, like a pro, had taken the situation completely in his hands and was taking us through what would have looked impossible for us otherwise. It was quite a fight riding through ‘nothing’… especially for Kishor, who had taken konkon dubs. After riding for some 10 mins and again in the middle of nowhere, we were stopped by a local shepherd. He was an old man and he asked Kishor what we guys were up to. Kishor, like an obedient child, repeated the whole story again. The old man listened to it curiously, and started cursing Kishor for bringing me to such (?) a place. He talked to me for some 5 odd minutes (in Assamese). Though I didn’t understand a single word of it, I kept nodding time to time, and pretended as if I understood what he was saying. He basically wanted to tell me that instead of coming to such a rural place, I should have visited some of the finest temples of Assam (in Guwahati etc.). It was very generous of the old man, and I was touched.

Pic: The old man, Kishor and KonkonPic: Nirmal in front

There is a lonely college right in the middle of those fields. We headed for the college. On the way, we saw two kids fishing. They had caught a few small fishes and a water-hen. They had wooden hats (Called Zaapi) and a cute little boat – all for themselves!! WOW. Life.

A small break and a photo session at the college later, we joined a small road that took us to Solmara. There were villagers on the road now, and they watched me with a great curiosity. It became awkward at times, but I did enjoy it. On our way back home, which was a 6 odd kilometers journey, we saw two more children, standing on a float, happily enjoying a ride in another small pond. The float (boat?) was made by joining two banana stems together. Nirmal managed to convince them, and there I was – balancing myself on that small float. I barely managed to stand on that sinking poor thing. Immense fun came. The next ride was a cakewalk for Nirmal and Konkon.

And then there was a flock of lazy ducks and a fisherman. He had a beautiful net, which he used to throw in water with extreme elegance. He had caught a big fish. He’d get 2-3 crabs in every throw, but let them go. I was surprised to hear that these Assamese guys don’t eat crabs. What misconceptions we usually have about these North-East people, no? Snakes, dogs, crows, snails and that kind of a thing.

Later on, I found out that almost all the women in Tengabari fish. And that they are good at it. And that the people have pigeons in their houses. And that they eat them. And that they like it better than chickens. And that the pigeons actually are tasty. And that they have very little flesh as compared to chickens.

We came back and relaxed for a while. In the afternoon, social visits happened as expected. All the people were very curious about me. They were very nice to me, and we received royal treatment everywhere.

Spent the post afternoon time with Baccha company. Konkon and Nirmal were with us all the time as usual. Then Himangshu joined in. He is a bright little kid with eyes that are just too good for words. Big, dark eyes with long eyelashes. He was quiet, just like Konkon and unlike Nirmal. Another kid (must be 4 something) came. He was obsessed with army! Guns and salutes all the time!! His name’s Abinash Kashyap. He put major enthu with patriotic songs sung in very loud voice. Good fun! I made good friends with these guys, and I hope, sometime when I go back to that place, they will remember me.

In the evening, electricity conked off again. So we went to Nabo’s house, had a chai with him and went on a long cycle ride. This time without the kids. Weather was nice, and we had a peaceful ride. It was dark by the time we returned. I was exhausted after a long day of endless fun and physical activity, so we had an early dinner. There was pigeon cooked on my special request – the curry was unbeatable! Rest of the food was nice too. Again, there were couple of unknown subjis – I guess some wild vegetables. But they were cooked to perfection. I retired to bed praising Kishor’s mom.

Previous post in the series : The NE Diary #1

Hooked : Coupling

Well... alright! Howmuchever I used to crib about f.r.i.e.n.d.s., I still stealthily admired it. It's just that I didn't have patience to watch the whole of it like those fanatic friends of mine. But now that I have nothing better to do in life, and the humour around seems to be getting repetitive and dull, I picked this up... and Voila! Soooooper dooooper fun for a dead soul like mine. It's kinda corny, but who cares - as long as there is enough masala (which, sadly, lacks in my life right now... *sigh*) in it!

COUPLING. Go watch it, if you haven't already watched Seinfeld. Heh.

Old Friends

They gathered at someone's house. A very cosy place indeed. Somebody dimmed the lights. Somebody picked up a guitar and played songs. Songs from the past. Songs about their memories. Songs in the name of lost loves. Then somebody opened a bottle of Southern Comfort, and a bottle of Single Malt. Somebody had 'SoCo' for the first time and tripped. They all tripped too. And they laughed. And talked. And talked for a long, long time. It rained outside. Cold, November rain. Room was still dimly lit and warm. And there were these friends. Sometimes, everything just falls into place, doesn't it?

The NE Diary #1

“Take” said Kishor and passed it on to me. I took it, shuffled it for some 5 minutes and said “here”… Paul took it from me. In matter of couple of minutes, he was done with it. And he passed the Rubik cube to Kishor again. By this time, all of us would have finished solving it some 20 times!

Well, I don’t know whether solving Rubik cube more than 60 times in less than 2 days is a world record, but what better can you do in a sixty-one hour long second class train journey?? Yes, sixty-one hour long journey – slow, boring, monotonous, hot, sticky, sweaty, tiring – Indian railways – we all know it! So there is nothing much to talk about the journey, except…

Except – that the weather was awesome after New Jalpaiguri (NJP). It wasn’t raining, but signs of rains were everywhere. Everything looked green and fresh. There was water everywhere along the track. I showed some birds to Kishor and Soumya. Pond Herons, Cattle and Little Egrets, White Necked Storks (to my surprise, there were too many of them), Coots, Pintails and Dabchicks, Drongos, Waterhens, Kingfishers, and the usual Pigeons. There were two cute little kids – Nayan and Sayonika, and they kept us occupied almost all the time. They got down couple of hours before Guwahati and we really missed them being around after that.

We arrived at Guwahati late in the night. Paul went to his place with his dad, who had come to receive him. I and Kishor took an auto and settled the trip for 120 bucks after much bargaining. It turned out to be a very short journey (definitely not 120 bucks worth an auto ride!), but it was quite eventful. We were stopped twice, by the drunken cops on night patrol duty. I was psyched to see AK47s and other LMGs with those drunken policemen. Nothing bizarre happened thankfully, and we were let go. Autwallah said very casually, “Yeh toh routine check-up hai Saab”. Thank god Kishor didn’t see my face at that time!!

Day1 : Tengabari

It was almost midnight when we reached Kishor’s uncle’s place. We were greeted by Mridul Deka, Kishor’s cousin. We were very tired, so we had a quick bath (yeah, that was much needed) and a cup of refreshing tea, and slept off in no time.

We got up at around eight in the morning. Called up Rajkamal and he came to meet us. He left immediately as he had some other work to do. I and Kishor got ready, had breakfast (I was quite apprehensive about the food initially, as I had heard that everything is prepared in mustard oil). But the food was really tasty, and the Dekas were very nice, caring and friendly people. We left the house right away.

I have never seen a city worse than Guwahati. While the impression in the night was ‘Okay’, I realized in the morning that the city is very bad – unclean, filthy, congested, hot and muddled. There are only two major parallel roads in the city. Buses are small and always overcrowded. There is something called Rhino bus service, the new Tata buses, but you get one only if you are really lucky. Auto service is atrociously expensive, someone as broke as me couldn’t have afforded it anyway. From Dekas’ place to one of the two main roads is a 10 min walk, and you see all sorts of shops on both sides. There is a bridge and alongside of which, people sell fresh river fish. That looked fascinating.

We took a cycle-rickshaw from the home to the main road, and immediately took one of the small buses to railway station. We couldn’t book the ticket for my return journey as there was some major screw up with the online booking system at railways station. It started getting hot as the day progressed. I was supposed to take a digital camera from a friend before coming, but somehow it had not worked out. I thought I’d buy one of the cheap Kodak (KB10 or 12) ones, but I didn’t get one in the studios there. We came back to Ganesh Guri, where Dekas’ place is, borrowed a KB10 from Mridul, had lunch and left for Tengabari.

Tengabari is Kishor’s village. It is situated around 70 kms to the North-West of Guwahati. We left Guwahati at around 2 in the afternoon in an ASTC bus. It took us around an hour just to come out of Guwahati and it was quite a hot afternoon. We were sweating way too much. But the moment we came out of the city, weather became unbelievable pleasant. The sky was cloudy and the wind was just good enough to bring much awaited happiness to us. In the bus, there were few people from Kishor’s village and he was busy catching up with them after a long time, throughout the journey.

Road was a rather small one, mostly built by Boarder Roads (BRO) and there were small villages on both its sides. Houses were really neat. There would be a small pond in front of each house and there’d be a neat wooden (bamboo) bridge to take you to the house. Very aesthetically made bamboo fences surround the houses and there’d be a huge mashy field behind the house. Mostly rice fields. There’d be two-three sch houses and another huge paddy field between them. It looked very picturesque because of such awesome landscapes.

Never ever in my life, I had seen such huge rice fields. There’d be men fishing in the ponds, flocks of ducks nearby, very very dense bamboo islands here and there. I could see all the possible shades of green in no distance.

We reached Pipolibari at around 5:30 p.m. Pipolibari is a village near Tengabari. From Pipolibari bus stand (hypothetical), Tengabari is a 10 minute walk. There was a huge group of people to receive us in Tengabari. Everybody was looking at me as if I was an alien.

I follow Assamese. I used to think I follow it quite well then, I mean, I always understood most of what Kishor and Paul used to speak. In Tengabari, we were stopped at almost every house. An old man or a middle aged lady would come and talk to Kishor. And believe me; I never understood a single word of their conversation! Their language is highly dialectic, heavily accented and complex Assamese. They talk in a pace that is almost two times the normal pace. It was just impossible to understand their conversation.

Kishor’s house is kind of modern, as in, it is built in cement concrete and there are quite a few gadgets that looked unusual for Tengabari. A television set, a refrigerator, and an inverter. I was disappointed to see a cement fence, for I had expected and visualized a typical bamboo fence like rest of the houses. We entered the house with few of the people left from the clan. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t converse with anyone. Nobody except Kishor understands even A-B-C of Hindi! It always was one-way communication with Kishor, who acted as a translator. I could see that the people wanted to talk to me a lot, but couldn’t do so because of this communication barrier. I wish I had known Assamese better, for I missed on a lot f things. Couldn’t just help it.

Pic : Kishor's house from outside and the Baccha company

Tengabari, if I remember right, has around hundred families and almost all of them are Barmans. The kids are very bright. There is a gang of young kids and they soon became god friends with me. First I met Konkon and Dharitri, Kishor’s cousins. They live in the very next house, in the same compound. Dharitri (what a beautiful name!) is a very shy girl, just like Deepanjali (Kishor’s sister). They didn’t talk much, not even in Assamese. Konkon is an extremely bright kid. One of those intelligent and quiet sorts. He was quite shy initially, but surprisingly opened up later on. Dharitri had an exam the next day, so she went for her studies.
Nirmal, who studies in class 6, is the real dude. Dude. A pakka gaon-walla, mischievous, adventurous, brave, knowledgeable smart kid who knows his village and surroundings in and out! He has all the skills that one must posses to be a real stud in the gaon. I met all this baccha company in the evening. I immediately liked all of them.

We came back to house after a small walk around. In Pipolibari, we bought some chicken for supper, which, by the way it was displayed in the butcher shop, looked like wild chicken to me, but tune out to be broiler one. Konkon and Nirmal were with us all the time. We sat in the front porch (!) of the house and made plans for the next day. Naturally, Nirmal was in-charge of the planning! I‘d just listen to everything and nod, as I had nothing to contribute. Electricity hadn’t come back. We had our dinner. Chicken was very nice (and non-broilerish at that), there were couple of unknown subjis, but I liked it.

Post dinner, we went on another walk. This time we met Nabo, another neighbour. He is slightly elder to us two. He chatted continuously with Kishor. He’d use Hindi in between the conversation in an extremely funny manner. A very nice guy, I liked him immediately too. He invited us for breakfast at his place for the next day. Still there was no sign of electricity. We had a small walk with Nabo and the baccha company. I couldn’t see much of outside it wasn’t a very brightly lit night. Since Nabo was catching up with Kishor after a long time, I retired myself to my thoughts – during the walk and in the bed.

These are the notes from my North-East india trip (July 2005), with Kishor, Soumya, Rajkamal and Avishek. Most of it was with Kishor though.

Susegaad Bernardo's

Gurgaon is hell when it comes to food. Except for couple of places like Karim’s et al, I haven’t had a satisfying grub here. But in the last few days, there had been much hype about this place called Bernardo’s. Had heard about it from manager first, who hadn’t been there, but he had heard about this place from Rohan. Looks like Rohan hadn’t had much food there, but managed to spread the word. Then Goyal [1] told me about it before I tresspassed Shivam's National Highway. Bernardo’s. A Goan restaurant with an atrociously slow website, awkwardly slow service, poky little space, vague location, ordinary ambience, and …. hang on… unbelievably amazing food! Trust me, it’s the best restaurant in in the town – at least for a foodie like me!

Zero exaggeration.

About Bernardo’s:

Bernardo’s is a brainchild of Chrys and Cres Fernandez… a fantastic tale of foodie fascination that began two years ago in a pigeon hole… literally! We moved from our first premises (at Meher Chand Market, behind India Habitat Centre) to bigger digs in mini bong land – Chittaranjan Park. We have recently shifted from there as well and you can now find us at your present address in Gurgaon.

Ours is a different concept… completely! You may have gone to Goa on vacation. You may have hopped down to any of the innumerable shacks and restaurants for a bite to eat and declared the food you were served incredible. In all probability, it was very good food. Just not authentic home cooked Goan food. What the real susegaad savours come sun down or sun up.

Susegaad, Indeed. [2]

We had been talking a lot about this place, and hadn’t managed to go there. I invited some 10 odd people with a great selfish intention. Albeit the initial confusion and difficulty in locating the place, everybody turned up, surprisingly on time. The place turned out to be a rather small one, with five tables, each barely sufficient for four people. Orders were taking quite some time to come, and frustration levels were rising. But when the food arrived, everybody became suddenly happy, for all the dishes were skilfully prepared and were very very tasty.

My selfish motive of trying all the listed dishes paid me off. We ordered almost all the dishes on the menu and I tasted all of them. First came Pork Vindhaloo. I am a great fan of Vindhaloo. It’s probably the tastiest Goan style curry made with wine vinegar, red chillies and finely chopped garlic. Well, I love pork, but haven’t had much of an opportunity to eat it. When I was in Goa, I hardly used to have pork. Whenever I had it, I always found a thick layer of fat (or was it the skin?) with the flesh. In North East India, year and a half back, when I had pork in Shillong and Guwahati, I always found it slightly undercooked and too dry. Still it was tasty. But the one in Vindhaloo yesterday was heavenly, with just the right amount of fat (or whatever) and cooked to the perfection. Had it with plain rice and enjoyed every bit of it. Thanks to Anand Phene, an enthusiastic Goan, who gave me company for pork (others being *yuck* about it)

Then came the soft warm breads, Chicken Xacuti, Prawn Caril de Camarao (Prawn Curry), Prawn sukhem (dry prawns) cooked in coconut, King fish-curry (Surmai) and all the four listed veg dishes. I tried all the non-veg dishes and loved most of them. Surmai curry was an exact replica of what my mom makes (with hardly any masalas, just a hint of garlic, turmeric, tamarind, salt, red chilli and lots and lots of coconut) – so I was happy. Xacuti was not something I had tasted in Goa/Tarkarli, but I can’t really judge it. Mutton dishes and sausages are on the list for the next time. One veg dish that I tasted was called Fugad, and it was very mild and well made. All in all, the main course was to die for – for both veg and non-vegetarians!

Another thing that appealed me was the music that was played in the background in a very low volume. Typical Goan folk songs, I don’t think any of us noticed it, for we were to engrossed in hogging and praising the food – so I have to give it to Bernardo’s for the music. Interiors could have been better, but the sentiments behind putting those ordinary looking black-and-white photographs all around the place are perfectly understandable. I wish I had been to earlier Bernardo's too.

I am not a great fan of Bebincas, but was surprised to see no Bebinca on the desserts menu. I asked for an apple cake with ice cream, but ended up tasting all the four desserts. Cakes were home made types, not very sweet, but soft and warm. Lovely. Thanks to Anand, Ninad, Chaitanya, Sushant, Neha, Madhukar, Goyal, Pappu, Abhijit, and my selfish self for a wonderful company.

Post Bernardo’s, with happy thoughts of being thankful to be closely associated with Goa in many ways, I couldn’t help myself picking up the bottle of Cashew Fenny from Goyal’s house. It had been lying there for a long time due to lack of fenny fans. Good for me! Came home, had a drink with him, and had couple of more drinks alone, with nostalgia of good old Goan days. Needless to say, the high that those memories brought was much more than the fenny one, but the loyal ol’ fenny, too, worked nevertheless.

[1] Goyal’s post on yesterday’s dinner is here.
[2] Konkani word "Susegaad" has a meaning somewhat similar to Saac (here), except that it is a much wider term. Goans are known for their susegaad nature. There are couple of interesting things about it – I have seen the regular shop timings in Goa from 10am to 1pm and from 4pm to 7pm. Working hours in offices are similar too. But the people, they are unbeatable. When I’d to buy a bottle of palm fenny from a local bar in Goa owned by my landlord’s sister, it’d to cost just 40 bucks. A regular that I was, one fine day, the sweet old lady there charged me only 35 bucks, telling me that the fenny prices are gone down. . That's one of the many dimensions of Susegaad.

WTF#2

Outlook reports:

From 1969 till today, the 10,000-strong RAW has avoided recruiting any Muslim officers. So has has NTRO, a critical arm of external intelligence.

Only a big ‘WTF’ comes.

My dad has always been a detective fiction / non-fiction fan, so I have known intelligence agencies like CIA, KGB, MOSSAD, FBI, and ISI for a long time. But he always talked about RAW with a great deal of respect. So did many others I’ve known. Naturally, I too, had a great deal of respect for RAW. And now, when I read about this nonsense, I fall short of words to express my anger. We are the ones who talk about unity of Indians, equality and similar stuff.

Besides, an intelligent agency, whose objectives are defined as 1) To monitor the political and military developments in all the adjoining countries, which have, direct bearing on India's national security and in the formulation of its foreign policy; and 2) the supply of military hardware to Pakistan mostly from European countries, the USA and China, with a high priority, cannot afford not to employ a Muslim agent! What adjoining countries are you talking about here, RAW? What are they? Aren’t they mostly Muslim countries? Now, if few of the most privileged organizations are making this discrimination, for god knows what reason, what do you expect from rest of the country??

Outlook further adds:

It is the unwritten rule that no official wants to talk about openly. Our secular democracy does not deploy Muslims or Sikhs to protect its VVIPs. While Muslims were always under suspicion, the Sikhs got blacklisted after Indira Gandhi’s assassination in 1984 by her personal bodyguards who were Sikh.

It is ironic that Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, a Sikh, has no brethren from his own community detailed in the security cordon around him. Officials of the Special Protection Group (SPG), established in 1984 for providing security to prime ministers, have ensured that neither Sikhs or Muslims are employed as bodyguards to VVIPs.

Now beat this! Sikhs too. I don’t understand what people have against them. Come on, we are in 21st century. I remember what kind of hoola hoo had happened when we were to employ a servant at our house a few months back. My “BITS-Pilani-graduate, high-salary-earner, so called open-minded” friend had major issues in employing a Muslim. In the middle of nowhere that we stay, he’d rather ride 5-6 kms and have sh!t a$s food, or stay hungry.

While his argument is that I must understand some of his personal reasons for being against some communities, he must also understand that those might have been valid at his dad’s time, but times have changed, aren’t they?? I strongly respect FSM, so nothing personal, dost.

Extreme shame, what else can I say, India!

Time it was and what a time it was it was,
A time of innocence a time of confidences
Long ago it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you

Bookends - Simon and Garfunkel

Joy

Today I took an exam - The Patent Agent Exam conducted by Indian Patent Office. It doesn't matter whether I will clear it and become a registered Patent Agent or not, but it was after ages that I sat and wrote 2 complete tests of 2.5 hours duration each - back to back!

It was a hot Tuesday afternoon and the scene in the Patent Office wasn't very inviting. I wasn't prepared much and wasn't expecting anything from myself. (knowing that miracles don't happen.. atleast to me). Papers were distributed and my heart started beating at Rawalpindi express speed. The moment the tip of my pen touched the paper, a sudden enthusiasm came as a shock. Words started flowing.. and I went on and on and on.. for the next two and half hours!

There was just half an hour gap between the two papers and I didn't get to eat my lunch. With one tea, a pack of Tiger biscuits and lot of frustration inside my poor stomach, I started writing the second paper. Again the same thing! Just didn't realise when the second two and half hour stint got over. The joy of writing on a snow white bond paper with a black jel pen after almost 2 years was just beyond the words.

Now that I am home with a helluva hunger, bad neck-ache and back-ache, hopelessly paining fingers and a mood not to think about anything, I just realise two things... that there's a little chance that I might become a Patent Agent and yeah....

Miracles do happen!

Sometimes.

A Mexican pizza for the first time. Chocolate mousse. Mr. Fudge Brown. Hazelnut icecream. Deadly desserts. Pasta. Good company. A late night show of Pyaar ke side effects. Surprisingly good weather in this fucked up place and a nice ride back home. An evening can’t get any better.

Never before nostalgia hits me - of those juvenile days with old friends.

Obsessed?

… and I kept on hitting Send/Receive key like mad.