RANDOM VIBES

"My Grandson is an MBA"

2012-01-29T02:21:00.000-08:00

Said Mrs. Mathew to the group which consisted of distant family members and close ones too. All of sixty-two years, born and brought up in an era which never knew what an MBA was nor had any use for it, she hardly cared. Licking her lips and chewing away at the chicken with whatever teeth she had left, she continued to her group at the marriage reception "He's got into a big company now. I don't know what it is ITC or Info-something.... some foreign company..There are so many new names now" She knew she had the respect of her on-lookers-it was the wedding of her cousin's grandson Benjamin. But even before the groom and bride had had a taste of the chicken gravy which awaited them at their table, talk was on at the family-network which laid the ground-work for the next marriage and Mrs. Thomas knew she had a winner. Why, didn't Asha's son who also had an MBA get a 'nice' match? For a country of a 'billion people' where their opinions are as varied from north-south and east-west as their paranthas to their masala dosas and pav-bhaji to momos, India is united in its ideas of marriage and right now with almost certainity in this hot marriage segment the MBA-guy/girl has as much demand as mutton biriyani at Ramzan.

True the Administrative Services will never lose their flavour with the North and Gujarat will always honour its business wallahs, but after the rise and wane of the software techie, the MBA wallah has steadfastedly held the ground at the top of the marriage table. But if you have to name the real hero it has to be the software techie. This particular creature did what no one could dare to hitherto- it single-handedly clutched the power from the doctors and engineers and overnight became the king/queen of the marriage table. This kind of power doesn't come easily in the rigid power structure in Indian society. The software-techie created a new segment in the Indian society-the middle-class or even as some might refer it to-the upper middle class. With the wads of American dollars flowing into the Indian software industry from back-office jobs, the software-techie bought houses, 3-bhks, travelled in autos where he had hitherto caught a bus or worse-walked and basically flaunted his money. Because lets face it- he could afford to show off. All of a sudden the Indian middle-class jumped from bank-slips and wait at cash-counters to credit cards. Where there was the old cathode ray TV now stood plasma flat screens. Be it the change from Old Cask Rum to Teachers and Chivas Regal or from local radio music to entry at the best pubs and discs in the city, the software-techie had it all. And for all the care and frowns and fights that take place to get two people fixed for marriage in India, it still couldn't ignore the fact that with software-techie as groom "life jinga-da-la"(basically means your daughter will be wearing a lot more jewellery than what you would send her off with at marriage). It was seen as a 'safe' investment and software-wallahs came to be hunted more aggressively than whales in the Pacific or cockroaches in China(wonder where those cockroaches in masala stalls in China come from?)

And what made the software-techie a people's hero was that anyone could become one. The American jobs didn't need much of a brain and anyone who could learn a computer language was welcomed in. It didn't matter whether you were a science graduate, a commerce student, or a techie all that mattered was whether you could learn a simple computer language. Quite suddenly NRIs began to lose their status in India 'cos lets face it software-techies did projects overseas and still managed to work in India. All of a sudden parents who wanted the status of a 'foreign-working' son-in-law and still get to see their girl more often, had found their golden goose. The basic man working outside was also happy 'cos the software-techie was bringing in loads of cash into their businesses. And boys and girls all over India were generally happy 'cos believe-it-or-not software-techies led to software-babes and with them came a wave of fashion. Hem-lines shrank and neck-lines dived and the Indian male population was definitely happy. And so was the female population-now they had boyfriends with loads of cash-well what more could they ask for. It was in this period of prosperity that disaster struck in the form a recession. Ask the auto-wallahs in B'lore; they will tell you, for, the recession in U.S which had nothing to do with them suddenly had everything to do with them. No more single-person trips from s/w companies straight to M.G road and discs, no more long distance trips from software-techies. Infact with software-techies clutching onto their money and making a bee-line for buses and a change in life-style, the auto-wallahs got one right on their belly.

It was during this period of change or as a silent partner during their growth that a second species called the MBA-wallah began to raise its head. With major companies setting up shop in India they needed someone to run the shop. With C.As being produced in India at the rate of water in corporation taps and owing to the blood-suckers they tend to become when they finally become C.As, companies probably decided they needed their own answer to the adminisitration problem. They decided that people with loads of work experience in the shop-floor(the basic techies) couldn't handle the 'problems' of management and a new breed called the MBA-guy was created to be the Daddy of them all - yes even the software-techie. And the middle class had again found its foot-hold 'cos you said it- with a graduate degree and high school mathematics you could now enter any of the management schools and the best of them the IIMs and emerge as a new creature- the MBA-wallah. Almost inevitably unless you were a complete idiot you did the exitting with several job offers in 7-digit salaries. And the next door Ramu who until now had the vocabulary which could barely include "machining, procedure, scientific, sir/madam" now emerging from MBA colleges had lingo like "down-sizing, right-sizing, resources(not the iron-ore and aluminium kind mind you), break-even" all words which meant latin to common people. True to their nature of respecting things which they couldn't comprehend, the Indian populace treated the MBA-wallah with awe and respect. It invaded the industry in all spheres except where it mattered at the shop-floor and saw to it that things were run 'smoothly'. It became the baap(dad) to the software-techie and other basic techies. And unlike the software-techie of which there were basically two types the code developers( a rare minority) and the code-checkers and probably the bpo-worker, the MBA-wallah came in all kinds of types from number-crunching finance-types to tongue-wagging HRs and Marketting and still others. The work-force was not human anymore-no they were human resource and all the down-sizing, right-sizing hit the software-techies and other techies in their under-belly. Quite like shady religious preachers they used jargon which no-one could understand and lets face it-weren't meant to understand. Many a kid studying engineering and realising that his brains were probably only going to land him a tech job for a measly 5 to 4-digit salary saw the 'error' of his ways and moved onto MBA where you needed less brain and more tongue-wagging and he could earn a hundred times more. So they sold their souls and brains to the B-schools as they are called and shed their engineering skin to become a new breed which scarcely remembered or associated itself to engineering or science as such- and they were rewarded. They even marketted their own products- soft-skills to the unsuspecting public who lapped it all up- Gods that the MBA-wallahs were now.

And India's biggest unspoken industry-the match-making industry took notice of this new breed that was emerging. No one noticed the pot-belly or the photo-shopped hair on the MBA-wallahs, no one noticed the old Ramu hiding underneath they only chose to see the rich cream of the B-school smeared on him. They didn't care whether he could be a boring old fag crunching numbers day-in and day-off, they didn't care whether he could be home at all to spend time with the family, all they wanted to see or hear was the unfathomable jargon and the foreign business trips that their daughters could accompany him on. They chose to just see the cash-cow infront of them-"he is well-placed and will provide for you and you both will learn to adjust to each other" was what the daughters heard from their parents and instead of well-toned hrithik roshans in their dreams they learnt to accomodate the 'baby-facish', 'slightly plump' and 'official-looking' MBA-wallah.

Every species in this world finds its own mate - by itself. Everyone except probably the Indian groom/bride. Like potato in our sambhar and aloo-gobi the choices of the groom/bride is just one of the ingredients in the sambhar that is a marriage-match. The Indian groom/couple are probably the only species still out there who are still spineless in getting a match on their own or worst still, are forbidden to do so on your own. Arranged marriages were followed to the best part of the last century probably in the west, but the scale to which it is followed here would probably blow away any comparison. From grand-parents to uncles and aunties on both sides of their dad and mom had to be convinced, before the Indian bride/groom even had a say. By then everyone else other than the couple concerned are convinced they want the two together and then everything thats important is shoved under the mat with "every marriage is like this. You will adjust to each other". Only such a system could have wagged in and lapped up an MBA-wallah with no apprehension whatsoever(am I being too critical? Some of them really work hard and are good at what they do you know) and as luck could have it it gave them the MBA-wallah.

On the dusty streets of Tanjavore in the early hours as dawn is still breaking Mrs.Iyer has just finished splashing water in front of her house and has drawn a kolam(drawing with rice-powder), to find the daily has just arrived. Breaking her reciting of the keertanas sung from the speakers at the nearby temple she opens it straight to the matrimonial section(they go straight from matrimonial to obituaries in that order) and thumbs down the Iyer section. Her face lights up as she has found what she was looking for "bride sought for Iyer boy,fair complexion, MBA graduate and working in reputed company. Girl should have traditional values..." True to her expectation Mrs. Mathew finds that her crowd of onlookers are eager to hear more about her MBA grandson. By tomorrow word would have reached the outer arms of the family tree and beyond and before long she would have a 'nice' girl for her Vincent.

P.S: Dru best of luck for your interview dude. I don't hate all MBA people you know, especially those who are really into management like you are.

Nepali currency and noodles

2011-12-23T23:00:00.000-08:00

Pre-script:What follows is a tale based on two things-my friend MT went home recently; and she told me when I asked her how the trip had been, that all she could tell me was that her trip was exciting and that the souvenirs she got from it were-Nepali currency and a packet of noodles. So me driven to nuts by my m.tech thesis decided to get some sense into my life by driving some sense into this story. Henceforth 'I' in this story will refer to MT, for this is her story after all...
Statutory warning: This post is long. So people with very limited patience will probably need a few sittings if they do want to finish this one. For the first time I, Leo wouldn't blame you. I tried doing something different and it has turned out a bit long. But this being my work I don't like to chop at it.

Packing and setting off:

There, gifts for mom,dad,grandma check. Damn the bag is bursting, people would think Iam a gulf-returnee.Where is the scarf for the night?ya ok..a book to read?hmm ya packed..I won't be needing it hopefully eh?MT isn't that why you chose to travel in the sleeper compartment so that you could watch the people in this part of the country and their behaviour? That idiot Mawe had warned that this would be an uncomfortable experience, said that it would make me regret it every moment cos there would be hardly any people-observing but a mad desperate attempt to sit in my seat throughout the journey. Ahh..I will prove him wrong. MT can certainly travel sleeper class and will live to tell him that it was a good experience ha!Hey its 11:45 time to go downstairs and wait for the auto. Damn this heavy bag!

Oh thank God the auto wallah was on time and the way he is driving I'll probably reach the station in no time. Good job MT..part 1 of journey working well..Oh wait what's this idiot doing! doesn't he see the bus coming ahead?mgod!!noo...Damn!!!that was close..what freaking idiot can drive like this?!Shit that was close! Kalyanpur looks so busy..wonder when this selling and buying and crowd ever vanishes during the day..Oh the dust..pooh..who am I kidding..from Coimbatore to Kanpur, it seems like dust is following me everywhere. Oh old-lady-with-pots bike behind you! bike behind you! damn that was close. Every one in this mad place seems to be driving the way he/she wishes. Wonder how many reach their homes each night! I'll just close my eyes till I reach the station; I can't watch any more of this- oh wait MT what about your resolve to study this land and its people?; remember these are the very people you were bent on studying. Damn! Oh God just get me to the station in one piece! Oh wait why is the auto slowing down? Crap! jam-in the middle of the day - at bloody 12! oh yeah train has crossed; why didn't I think of it before? Every time a train crosses, its a jam on Grand Trunk Road - wise old saying in Kanpur. You'd think they were running on the road!Ooomph oh will you idiots please turn off your smoke belching engines? Wish their a/cs could circulate this smoke inside their cars, then probably they will remember to take them for a smoke check every 12 months atleast..Ahh moving ahead finally..Ravatpur...Parade..every where the humdrum of life-nice..Ahh..Railway station at last!!

Hmm now to find the platform. What? platform 4? C'mon luggage you and I have a long way to go. Ahh as untidy and ugly and crowded as ever-Kanpur railway station how else can you be? Still I don't think I'll enjoy you as much if it were not for these crowds you know. Without them you are just another colonial style station, just like Coimbatore and Chennai and all the others, with your arches and overhead covers. Elegant still, but not quite interesting without this crowd you know. Ahh platform 4 at last; lemme see.. the train is half an hour late so it will probably arrive at 2:15. Time to find a place to sit - half an hour is not bad considering that trains have been known to be running half a day late in these parts eh? Mgod what a large family that is! looks like four brothers and their entire families - yeah one,two.....ten kids..yeah about right..haha that's small in these parts..Must have come for a wedding by the looks of their shiny sarees. Oh who am I kidding, the women over here wear shiny sarees all the time - probably more festive the occasion more the shining, though I'll be bewitched if I can differentiate the degree of shining! Thought that only Rajasthani folk wear bright sarees but it seems the whole of North India has taken up the competition. Urchin group approaching; uh-oh MT get some change ready. When will this ever stop? On one hand we have people buying Porsches and on the other kids like this living and dying without knowing what it is to have a good life let alone sit in a Porsche. People going through entire lives in a parallel world!

"Gaadi no do paanch aat nau char Ghorakpur se Thiruvananthapuram tak jane waali Raptisagar express 4 no platform par 2bajkar painthalees minute pahunchegi.yathriyoon ko pahunchi asavudha par keedh hei.Train no 25894 Raptisagar express from Ghorakpur to Thiruvananthapuram is running late by 1 hour and is expected to arrive at 2:45. We regret the inconvenience"
Damn another half an hour to go..Will Mawe arrive by the time this bloody train comes?Anyway back to people-watch MT.

There comes the train, finally. Now where's S7?
"Bhaiyya wo mera seat hei. dhekiye seat 53 mera hei."(That's my seat please get up. See seat 53.)
"Beti hum Jhansi tak hi hein. Adjust to kar lena sab ko jana he tho he."(Iam only going upto Jhansi please adjust. Doesn't everyone have to travel?)
Only here in India could anyone get away with saying such a dumb excuse and flashing a pan-coloured toothy smile at the same time.Damn! now I'll have to put up with this guy till Jhansi. How about getting atleast my berth secure? That atleast should be dealt with without any doubt.
"Uthar jhaiyiye dheko ye mera berth hei. Aap neeche akke bhait jhaiyiye"(Please get down from the berth. That's mine.)
Ugly guy on upper berth just looks on as if he hasn't heard anything.
"Arre kyon usko pareshan kar rahe ho. Uthar jhayiye, ye unka seat he. Uthar jhayiye" (Thank goodness uncleji from nearby seat has turned good samaritain. Ugly guy from upper berth is getting down. What if I can't secure my seat for now, atleast Iam safe for the night in my berth.)
"Thank you uncle"
"Arre kuch nahin betti aap ki to seat he"(Oh its nothing beti. After all its your seat.)

Ah finally captured berth. Mawe was right eh? Its pretty crowded here. Looks like half of North India has decided to suddenly move. Uncleji and his wife and their daughter,ugly guy seems to be travelling alone-going to set up business in the South or just looking for a job?you can never tell...idiot who took up my seat,Muslim guy with long beard with his son - also in white-and-white - is it mandatory that they dress in salwar and kurta?must be orthodox types.And who is this opposite me?Is he a Nepali or just someone from the northern part of U.P? Hmm well shaven and dressed moderately..has had a haircut too and real trim too..dressing has a sense of neat-strictness to it, that's an oddity. No pot-belly so business-man is ruled out, c'mon that's the regional profession of North India, what else is there? Tell me not-so-old man where are you from?across the border in Nepal or this side of the border in Garhwal? and what is it that you do?'cos whatever it is you are the odd-one-out here...Oh well MT you will just have to wait and find out won't you?

Hmm uncle and aunty have decided to have supper. Where has this train reached?Bhopal?
"Khaana nahin kha rahi ho beti?"(Stranger from opposite berth has spoken)
"Huh?haan abhi kuch hi dher mein.gaadi kahan pahunchi he?"
"Abhi to Bhopal pahunchi he. Agar kuch khareedhke khaana he to kareedh lo. Agla stop Nagpur bahut dhoor he. Udhar jhane mein khafi dher lagegi."
"Oh haan.."
Will have to do with Poori and dal MT. God don't let this ruin my stomach. Stranger guy has brought his own food. All wrapped up - and neatly unpacked. Oh shouldn't stare..sorry stranger-guy; just curious as to who you really are. Dinner over, now time to sleep.

Yaaaawwwn..where have we reached? goodness its 7a.m already, how I have slept! Is everything I bought still with me? Oh thank goodness, slept like a log; thieves could have had a party here and I wouldn't have known. Stranger-guy's up, he's reading a newspaper..hmm..a man aware of his surroundings..c'mon stranger-guy out with your mystery. Oh..should brush.
"Aap newspaper padna chahengi?"Crap stranger-guy caught me staring(Would you like to read the newspaper?)
"Nahin. aap padke dheejiye."(No please finish it and then I would like it please.)
"Yeh leejiye. Aap kahan jha rahe hein?"(Here. I am done. Where are you going?)
"Coimbatore aur aap?"(Coimbatore and you?)
"Mein tho Chennai jha raha hoon."(Iam going to Chennai)
"Acha Chennai jha rahe hein. Udhar business kar rahe hein?"(Oh you're going to Chennai? Are you doing business there?)
"Nahin business nahin, udhar ek hotel mein chef hoon-The Noodle Shop"(No not business. Iam a chef at a hotel there-'The Noodle Shop')
"Oh mein aya hoon udhar. kuch 6-7 saal pehele. Aap the us samay vahan?"(Oh I've come there. Some 6-7 years ago. Were you there at that time?)
"Haan bilkul. Hum vahan 2000 se hein. Ab gyarah saal hue hein."(Yes. Of course. I have been there from 2000. Its been eleven years now.)
"aap kahan khe hein."(Where are you from?)
"Beti mera gaun nepal mein he. Chitwan district mein."(Beti my village is in Nepal. In Chitwan district.)
"Oh gyarah saal. yahan akar kafi saal hue hein na?"(Oh eleven years! Its been a long time since you came here!)
"Haha India aur mera rishta kafi purani he bhitiya. gyarah saal to kuch nahin. Hum idhar aye te 1977 mein, enlist karne Indian Army mein. Fir 2000 tak theyees saal Gurkha Regt. mein. Sune ho Gurkha Regt ke bare mein?"(Haha..My relation with India is much older. I had come here in 1977 to enlist in the Indian Army. Then I till 2000 I served in the Gurkha Regt. Have you heard of the Gurkha Regt?)
"Haan Haan wow. Tho apne kafi exciting jeevan bhitaya he uncleji?"(Oh yes. wow. Then your life must have been quite exciting uncleji)
"haha haan kafi exciting! theyees saal India ke shandhar regimenton mein se ek mein aur nikhala Lance Naik Bhupendra Nath bankhe."(Haha exciting indeed! 23 years serving in one of the finest regiments in the Indian Army and left it as Lance Naik Bhupendra Nath.)
That explains it. The sturdy posture, the trim hair-line..some habits never change..the strict dressing. The configuration below has changed with 'idiot' probably getting down somewhere in the night and an elderly couple taking his place. They are taking out a large nylon basket. Oh I should have guessed rotis and sabji. So this must be the food-bag for the journey; God now they will eat their way through this one.Oh and all spicy food too, mgod I am stuck on top! all that potato and groundnut will surely convert to gas?!

"Chaai...chaai, sirjee chai piyenge"(Tea! sir will you have tea?)
"Haan ek cup deejiye, beti aap bhi piyengi?"(Yes please.. (to me)Will you have tea too?)
"Nahin uncleji..aap peejiye"(No thanks uncle.)
"yeh leejiye panch rupaiye"(Here's five rupees)
"yeh kya bhaiya - nepali rupaiye nahin chalenge"(Brother Nepali currency doesn't work here)
"offho galti ho gayi. dheejiye ye raha panch rupaiye"(It was a mistake, return it, here's 5 rupees)
"uncle khya mein use dhek saktha hoon?"(Uncle can I look at that note?)
"kyon nahin yeh leejiye. mere pas kafi pade hue hein"(Yes why not,here; I have plenty of them with me.)
"Ye Nepal ke raja the na?"(This was Nepal's king right?)
"Han abhi yeh chal base hein. Log unhein kafi pyar karthe the"(Yes but he has died. The people loved him)Aapka notes ka collection he shayad.rak leejiye. mere pas kafi hein(Looks like you collect currency. keep it I have plenty with me.)
"nahin rak leejiye. nahin tho muj se iske liye apko indian rupee lene padenge. agla chai mere aur se"(No I couldn't or I could give you Indian rupees in exchange. I could buy you the next tea in return.)
"haha teek he"
"yeh kya hei aapke haath mein jala hua nishana he. Hotel mein cooking ke beech hua tha kya?"
"Oh yeh! hmmm..yeh koi cooking ke wajah se nahin he ji, ye tho kafi saal purane ki baath he"(Oh this. This is not from a cooking accident. This is from something much older) What's that dreamy look coming to his eyes?
"Oh meine socha, ke aap jho Chinese cooking mein tawa go gumathe hein, uske beech thel girne se ya kuch aise hua hoga. Jyadha personal baath he tho sorry, math bathayiye please"(Oh I had thought it was probably from oil flying off the pans when you swirl them in the chinese style of cooking, or something like that. I'm sorry please don't tell me if its something personal.)
"nahin aisa kuch personal baath nahin he. Iske baare mein sochke kaafi samay ho gaya he. Bahut sal purane ki baath he. Aap sunna chahengi? Ab tho mein buddha hoon, par ye jab hua tha tho jawan tha, shareer mein aur peshe mein bhi..haha"(No its nothing personal. Its just that no one has asked me about this dfor a long time and I had stopped thinking about it. Its from a time quite long ago, Would you like to hear about it? That was at a time when I was quite young and still a jawan in the Indian Army)
"Sahi mein? tho bathayiye. mujhe aisi kahaniyan bahut pasandh he"(really? please tell me more. I like such stories)
The train was passing over a gorge it seemed. There was such noise along with the rit-rat-tattling of the wheels. It was quite dark in the top berth but I was so hooked onto this story now, that nothing mattered. Not 'new' uncle and aunty seemingly battling over who would eat more groundnuts and litter the floor. I had kept a wary eye over the proceedings till now and it seemed that uncle was 'winning', but aunty was showing no signs of relenting. But I cared for nothing other than this old man's story now. What beats a fauji(army) story anyway?

"Then listen. As I said this happened a long time ago when I was still a jawan in the Army-3rd Gurkha Rifles. a well-trained infantry unit. There was pride in being a Gurkha. It is the case with every man in a regiment- a sense of pride and loyalty to his unit. We were posted in Kashmir at the time. Somewhere in Batlik sector. Life was harsh. There is no place as beautiful and as painful as Kashmir. For one thing, the place is beautiful, but the people have gone through a lot in their lives. Life as you know is harsh over there, a struggle to live in some parts. What with the terrorist activity in the region, life is sacred to the people there and our lives were intermingled with the lives of the people there. It was a very stressful period, when you are always on the highest alert everytime you are on duty and that happpened every day; it was enough to drive normal people half-mad. In the armed forces that's a way of life and it has to be come to terms with. My unit was headed by Capt. Rajesh Sinha, a young officer but very caring and at the same time strict with us jawans. We enjoyed our time with him. He was quite frank, open, no room for doubt and life was simple for him and that suited us as well. Its when you have a good superior officer that life becomes bearable in the army. Barrack life was good; me,munnah, chalu, everyone, it was one for all and all for one there. Everyone owed their life to everyone else and it was simple that way. We would go out on sortees on recconaisance according to our duty-schedule.

It was the height of winter in the valley; snow was falling covering everything feet deep. That day our unit had to go on a recce and we set off in our truck for the first leg of the journey, till the outskirts of the village we were in. One round of the village and there was no sign of anything unusual. We headed out to the outskirts, where we left the truck and headed out on foot over what was once a goat-track, through the snow. There were houses ahead in the hills and we would check up on them as we passed, and out into the wilderness and the hills beyond. We had food for two days in the wild as we would probably have to camp out for a night or two. As we passed the houses nearby there was no sign of any untoward activity and the locals waved at us as we passed. We reached the last of the houses where the local head informed us that all was well, but we'd better check on Amjad Ali's house as we went as he had not seen Amjad or his wife Rani for quite a few days, and since there had been a blizzard was not able to go check himself. We thanked the chief and as we walked ahead, the captain called us together and explained that it was probably nothing but we had be a bit careful about this last piece of news. True, a blizzard could have kept people estranged but there had been news of possible terrorist crossings into the region, and a missing persons report is a possible sign of trouble. This put everyone on a new sense of alert and we continued forward. Amjad was a goatherd who lived in the hills ahead. He lived with his wife and their daughter Shamjana and theirs was the last house in the trail, quite removed and in the hills. We started climbing and each breath was a spike to the chest. The snow was falling thick and we were actually thankful, for, in our present condition it would mask our arrival if there was anything more to the chief's story. We split into two columns and each man scanned the area around him as he walked. About a 100 yards from the house and deep into the thicket surrounding it, the captain signalled for us to halt. We were surrounded by sal trees and brush vegetation, all covered with snow and the house was yet to come into view.

The captain explained the plan- we would split into two groups. One would approach the house from the front and the other from the rear, and both would take cover in a 25 m radius from the house. The lives of the family was top priority. It was agreed that we would draw the terrorists out of the house if possible and start shooting. But first we had to check whether they were really in the house and it was decided we would start a natural reaction - get the goats to make some noise maybe and Munna would be in place to intercept Amjad/Rani if they got out. But if it was anyone else he would be given a signal by the group infront and he would go into hiding by the goat-pen. A sniper would take out a terrorist if he came out alone/accompanying the inmates after giving making sure that the man gave his companions an all-clear signal. For it was clear that only confusion could give us the edge here. Once the man outside was taken out, we would storm the house within five seconds; one team through the front and the rear. The confusion was the only way we could save the inmates in a hostage-situation.The two teams split, me among the one going via the front, the other circling outwards to the rear. The approach now was even more measured; no one knew if there was a sentry lying in wait. The house came into view and no sentry was spotted,perhaps they thought that the snow was enough to keep away visitors; if they were there that is. We found cover facing the house and the sniper got into position. Munnah circled around to the goat-pen taking care not to disturb the goats until he was in position. He was to try and ascertain by listening at the windows the location of the enemy if there were any, and signal to the captain by hand signals, who would then relay the info to the team at the back by radio. It was a two room house and the location of the enemy would greatly help the operation. The localites had been educated to show distress signals if they were in situations like this. Vital info including the number of men inside and locations if possible could be conveyed by simple waving of hands and such. So if Amjad/Rani got out and if they were under duress they would signal discreetly in hope that someone was watching - that was our only hope of this ending fast. I said a silent prayer - asked God to save us and the family inside. The moonlight was filtering through the trees and the snow, giving a diffused light and eerie look to the whole scene. Everyone trained their breathing, it was vital we concentrated to the hilt, and getting our hearts to beat easy was vital.

All eyes saw the house through the view points of their rifles, each a different location, ready to strike. The snow was falling heavily now and it was really difficult to see anything. I thanked my strenuous training - there was a time this snow and the hours of sitting in a position would have broken us - but not now. As we squinted through our scopes, the captain's whisper broke through the dead-silence only barely audible "Munnah says he can't hear anything. The glass and the walls must be too thick. I'm relaying the info to the bravo team. All eyes on their target area. Dhillu(he was our sniper) the door!" "Yes sir. All set sir." Five whispers back. I could her the capt. relaying the info to bravo team. Munnah would start disturbing the goats in a 25 sec window which would probably get over now. As the goats started bleating I saw the front door opening and Rani walking out. She was carrying a kerosene lamp and as I watched she covered and uncovered the lamp in quick succession. Damn, that was the distress signal! She was followed by a man in an overcoat a few steps behind. Munnah had seen this from his position and taken cover. Rani got the goats to stop and the man looked around to make sure it was safe. He turned back and yelled "koi nahin". As the duo turned back to the house, Rani in front, Dhillu got his man. Clean, and as he fell Rani jerked and turned around but continued on inside - brave lady, but there was probably something going on inside that she couldn't leave - probably a hostage situation. As she reached the front steps though, we saw someone reach the front door, it was too quick and there was a cry of alert and she was pulled inside - they had seen the body. There was a hail of gunfire as we tried to gun him down. The door slammed shut. Even as the capt. roared into his radio to 'bravo' "surprise out plan B", there came shots from inside.

The windows were flung open and bullets rained towards all directions from inside . We launched our reply each man taking a specific area, praying that he didn't hit one of the inmates and leashing out hell. The rear was a picture of silence, not a bullet came from the bravo team - that was plan B. Snow flew in all directions as bullets zipped into it. The still mountain air was broken by the rattle of semi-automatics and the tree trunks around us shattered as bullets sank into them. We dug in deeper and returned fire. For five to ten minutes, I don't know it seemed like eternity, it was pure hell. Shards of rocks and bark flying and snow too and we kept to our positions. It was then that it happened - there was a loud explosion from inside and then - bhaamm! fire was seen through one of the windows. Either one of us had hit something explosive or they had done it. As we looked at the capt. for instructions, each man dreading the same thing - what of the ones inside?, he signalled-"wait" and seemed for a few seconds to be listening. There it was - gunfire from the rear. Those cheap bastards!! they had tried to distract our attention and tried to make a get-away. With that the capt. signalled us, three to the front, and two to the sides to make a 'cleaning-up' run. None of the bastards should escape. Me and two others ran to the front in zig-zags. We were to storm inside and rescue the hostages if any and 'clean-up' if required. We slung low as we ran to the door getting no gunfire. One of the guys kicked the door down as two of us stood guard on either side. We swung in from either side and scanned the house. There were no signs of any terrorists, but we were recieved with a blast of the burning inferno. We could see the family hunched over at one of the corners, tied to a shelf which was already burning. We rushed in and as we crossed into the room parts of it started falling, burning. I reached them first and I cut the ropes of the trembling couple and unconscious child with my 'khukri'. As my partners helped the couple up I swung the unconscious kid onto my shoulder and started to make my way out when it happened. A part of the wooden beam broke off and the burning embers fell onto my hand. I jerked my arm free and managed to shift the child out of reach but my shirt caught fire. I ran out of the house with the child and putting her onto the ground sank my hand into the snow. I managed to put out the fire on my shirt but I did get burns - the marks of which you see now.

All in all the mission was a success. The cowards - six of them including the one we gunned down in front in the beginning, had come over in the dark a few days before just when the blizzard started, and had captured the house and forced the family into submission. As we thought, they, after being alerted by the body, had tied up the family and started firing. When it seemed that they were outnumbered they fell for our plan and thought there was no one in the rear and could make an escape. That's when they blew up a petrol bomb to create a diversion and ran outside from the rear. Of course bravo team had let them take a few steps to get the whole gang outside before clinically gunning them down. They had talked of raising terror in the valley and beyond from what the couple told us. The child had been knocked unconscious after she had been slapped by one of the gunmen while tying her hands and probably from the shock of the final explosion. She responded to our first-aid and we swung into putting out the fire immediately. We did help in rebuilding their house and became good friends with the family and with young Shamjana in due course. Nice kid she was. Ha! that's that, but beti that is how I got these burn marks on my fore-arm."

"Wow uncle mujhe pata nahin kya kahna he. Aap ki kahani kafi thrilling aur katharnak hei. Aap ke jaise jawan log hi is desh ko ab bhi suraksha kar rahe hein. Thank you."(Wow uncle I don't know what to say. You story was thrilling. It is army people like you who are keeping this nation safe still. Thank you.)
"haha kuch nahin beti. yehi hamara kaam hei aur jeene ka maksat bhi"(That's alright beti. That's our job and our goal too, what we live for.)
Lost track of time. That was some story and to hear it from someone who was actually there! What a treat! Ah the lights are coming on - goodness its already seven, how time has flown.
"To fir aap chef kaise bane?" (How did you become a cook?)
"In 2000 I decided to take voluntary retirement. I was good friends with the cook in our unit- Balu a South Indian. He too left with me. It was he who suggested that we could set up a business in partnership in Chennai. And that is how 'Noodle Shop' was set up with some of the cash we got from our retirement money. I brought some friends and relations from Nepal to work in our venture and he has some people he knows working there too. Altogether it has been a good venture so far. We have very recently got orders to either send chefs or supply to one of the 3-star hotels in the city."
"oh woh to acha hei" (that's nice)

"Hmm..life has been good so far....There is one thing I haven't told you though. And the more I see you the more I think of her. I have a daughter Kusum and she looks very much like you. You are probably of the same age I think. She is going to college, studying B.Sc at Chennai. And it is for her that her grandma has sent all this food here(points to his bag)..haha..loves her...infact wait..I have something for you too. Here (opening the bag and taking a packet)-Nepali noodles, you should have them as a gift from me."
"No mein yeh le nahin sakthi aur yeh apke beti ke liye hei."(No I can't accept this. Besides it is for your daughter.)
"haha use to kafi baki hei aur woh jab chahe mujhse bana leti hei. tumein dhek kar usi ki yaadh aa rahi hei. yeh leejiye mere aur se ek chota tofa..na mat kahiye."(haha..she has enough left. Besides she makes me make her these whenever she wants. You remind me of her. You should have this as a small gift from me. Please don't say no.)
"Dhanyawad."(Thank you)
"Boil it with water and eat. No masala required. Its all there. It will be the best you have ever eaten. My mother- her grandma is a fine cook"
"oh..ok"(grinning from ear to ear)
Must get up to wish 'uncle' goodbye at Chennai.
"Good night uncle"
"Good night beti"

Ah! Chennai at last.
"Beti hum jha rahe hein. Apna kyal rakna. Fir kabhi milenge(beti Iam going. Take care. Will meet again someday.)
"Bye uncleji. Fir milenge. Apne beti ko bhi mere shubhkamnayein dhena jaroor."(bye uncle. Will meet again. Give my regards to your daughter too.)
And like that he was gone. And next I woke up to my alarm vibrations as the train was nearing Coimbatore. As I pushed my way out of the train and to my waiting parents, I realised that his story will stay with me forever.

My love-escapades with Saturn

2011-11-22T10:02:00.001-08:00

I have an on-and-off deal with Saturn a.k.a shani for Indians and I am positive that he loves me more than I love him. He does have this tendency of returning back like an illicit lover and like every illicit lover has his whims, and 'gifts' that he likes to shower on me to show that he has returned. Well he chose last Monday to return and boy was he fretful when he returned!

I should have taken signs from the weather to know that something was up, but I didn't. The temperatures had plummeted the previous night and the cold was biting at my bones as I tried to pull the blanket around me in a desperate attempt to get in a position to keep warm. I looked at the watch on the table "6:30". Damn! and I could hardly see four feet out of the window. The world was just a mass of swirling white outside my window. I got up in bed and leaned over to switch off the fan and flopped down into 'warm' position again. I decided to sleep for a little more to get the sun shining outside. Next I opened my eyes, the watch showed 9:45. I jumped up in bed-those morons at the mess-counter have a tendency of-late to pack things off when the clock strikes ten. The chill had crept into the room, and my toes wanted to curl and get back under the blanket. After much debating about what to do, the situation was under control when I thought about what would happen when I faced 11o'clock at the Lion's den. It is much better to face the Lion with at least a full belly if not a full brain to go with it. At least you have the satisfaction that your physical body is intact when your mental part takes a beating. So after more choice curses I creep out of bed and painfully complete brushing my teeth. As I returned yawning away(I hate over-sleeping), and regarded my watch again "10:15". Where had time raced?Surely there must be some mistake? Not proceeding to think, I grabbed my sweatshirt and ran to the mess. I saw that the counter-guy had removed everything and was cleaning the counter. The mess-clock showed 10:17(damn now I'll have to beg and plead). I approached the counter-guy.

"Bhaiyya chai he kya?"(Is there tea?I tried starting from the bottom and moving onto more important things)

"Nahin. Sab katham ho chuka hai bhaiyya" (no everything is finished.)

What? The mess people hadn't started having food. Surely there's more of everything left? This guy is messing with me. I continued as if I hadn't comprehended what he said.

"Bhaiyya mein dhooth ki baath nahin kar raha hoon. Chai he kya?"(I'm not talking of milk. Is there tea left?)

"Nahin bhaiyya sab katham ho chuka he."(No everything is over)

"tho aap log kya piyoge?"(Then what will you people drink?I was getting angry now. I knew I was late and had no right to get anything, but this prick had always been a pain in the arse and he was really getting on my nerves today.)

"Dhikayiye kaun pi raha he. Idhar kaun pi raha he"(Show me who is drinking here. No one is drinking tea.) That does it. This guy has stepped over the bloody, fucking line. Not only did he have the nerve to say lies, now he had the impudence to challenge me.

When I say challenge, the reader shouldn't read that we follow a feudal set-up here. Quite on the contrary, while the mess-workers(most of them) treat us with respect, we reciprocate and treat them with respect as well.

Claanggg. The plate I held only a second earlier went flying onto the counter. I turned and walked back as counter-guy continued to blabber on. Pride in full and upto the brim, tummy quite without, I was fuming as I stomped back to my room. I didn't notice anything as I threw stuff into my bag and flew out of the room and began my cycle journey to the lab.
I should have paid attention to the sudden change in circumstances then, but I didn't. Silently cursing the mess-guy with all my might, I braced myself against the heavy fog and cycled on. The weather had taken a sudden dip since the past two days, but today was extra special. The fog circled everything like a white blanket never letting go and I hunched low on my cycle to keep warm and drove on. Today was one of 'em bad days, ah but they come and they go, what's to fuss about. Oh no Leo, you are speaking too soon son. Anyway as I cycled into the Academic area and swung into the corridor like I always do, I noticed that the corridor was pretty wet from the dew condensing on it. It is out of bounds for cyclists, but I hate using the paved path instead. Reason-Oh I want to get to the lab without my private parts getting bumped all the way, Thank you. And thinking what oafs people were to take the brick-paved road I cycled on. Past Leo's corner(that's a different story), I remembered to slow down considering the damp corridor. See I knew this was one of those days. And on I went thinking how many days it would be before I get into trouble and have to explain my very 'valid' reasons to the professors. As I reached the last bend on the corridor near the library I slowed down and swung into the bend. The next I knew my cycle went flying. It was like someone had swept it out from under me. I saw myself falling. I don't know why, but every time I have taken a fall in these IIT corridors I have loved it(ahem not the 1st time, glad you noticed). So in mid-fall I realise that Iam falling and I don't do anything to break my fall. Iam so captured in the beauty of the fall that I fail to do anything. Oh no Leo! So I hit chest first onto the bricked floor with my bag falling on top of me. I don't know when any of my limbs touched ground zero, but I seem to remember thinking that my head wouldn't hit the ground. Baammm!!! thought too soon baby, my head hit the ground chin first and then the side of my face, so hard that it practically numbed me. Maybe that was why I lay there kissing the ground for a few seconds before the brain regained control and sent emergency panic messages to every nerve in my body. I jumped up to hear thumping footsteps and saw that some passer-by had come running to help me up. I saw that my the jacket had a dark patch of dust near the chest region from where it had taken most impact. That fall would have done Christiano Ronaldo proud; of course he makes sure there is very less impact when he 'falls', but mine had so much of flight involved that I'm sure he would have loved it. And any ref would have given a free-kick and would have booked the other guy without so much as a second thought had it been a football match. But sadly this was no football match and there were no die-hard supporters jumping up and down and booing the other guy in unison, no one shaking their heads at the atrocity levelled, no cries for punishment, just silence and the passer-by who looked at me as if I were the first guy he had seen falling. What a disappointment! As my head was still quite numb, I turned to the Good Samaritain who had come running.
"chehre pe chot tho nahin he?mujhe kuch lag nahin raha he".(Is my face bruised? I can't feel anything.)
"Hmmm..nahin re. kafi lucky ho hero"(no. you are lucky 'hero')he replied after an inspection.
"Thanks. to fir mein chalta hoon." (Thanks. Then I will be on my way.)
I picked up my cycle and seeing that there was nothing wrong with it(Really Leo? Was there nothing wrong with it?), I cycled back to the lab. Now I was quite certain it was one of those days. But to think that it was a re-visit by Shani?, no I didn't think it was that yet(oh Leo you poor idiot). As I walked into the lab, Lion gave me a look as if to say "now what have you been doing?". The day passed onto lunch time with nothing much accomplished, yet the fog outside stood guard in the form a mild chill. As I started to cycle back I still had the hairs on the back of my neck up-something more had to happen.As nothing happened I felt a bit warm cycling back. I avoided the corridor-ha! I wouldn't fall for that a second time!
I was about to cross the atm junction a few yards from the hostel when it happened. Two girls on a cycle, one riding pillion were about to cross from up ahead. Remembering the way of things I swung over to the side to let them cross. Oh wait! why are they shifting to my direction too? Damn idiots! why don't you just cross dammit! I clutched the brakes with all my might. WHY THE HELL AREN'T THEY RESPONDING? The brakes just wouldn't hold well. The cycle had been quite ok after the crash in the morning eh smartass? Very smart you were then eh? I had been in quite a good mood seeing that nothing had happened and was at a steady pace when this happened you see. It was like those knight-fights you see in the movies, where they ride towards each other with spears outstretched-except here we were two 'knights' who were trying our maximum to avoid getting any closer. I could see the whites of her eyes-the one in front, pretty much like the knights did when they got pretty close. And I am pretty much she saw the veins in mine as well in those 'slow-motion seconds'. But just before the crash I shut my eyes real tight and hoped we would just pass by without crashing. Oh God please don't let me crash, just let her swing to the side! I have to agree with those chaps in Inception. The brain just processes such a lot of information so damn fast when it needs to. In dreams which last only a few seconds entire worlds are created; as for me those few seconds or split seconds before the crash my brain was on over-kill. As I closed my eyes another thought dawned on me. What if I opened my eyes and she is lying in my arms? Iam no pervert, and it was not a romantic feeling that I had, but if Shahrukh can get that happening in that many movies, it stands to reason that I can imagine it happening. I mean c'mon it will probably be next only to the girl-next-seat dream that guys have. You know when you go on a journey alone and you wish that some girl your age sits next to you. Its just one of those things and as I rightly read in some FB update, Indian Railways has some weird 'magic' shit going for it that this never happens. Just a wish that someone your age from the opposite sex sat next to you rather than 'uncle' who looks as grumpy as his age and who eats from the start of the journey to the end of the journey conveniently fed by 'auntyji' from next seat. I wonder how they can eat continuously, all the while complaining about sons,daughters,and the respective in-laws, the neighbourhood kids, the neighbours, the state of affairs in general, the country going to waste. I look at the floor; the pile of ground-nut shells and vegetable droppings and other paraphernalia 'slipping' from the couples' hands have begun to cover their feet. "And the children of today...no responsibility..look at the one infront, rotten no doubt. They grow up, they forget parents, no manners, creating problems...." I force myself to not break out laughing. Oh where am I, ahh..so it is understandable if someone wants a person from the opposite sex of his age for companionship on a long journey-just practical nothing crass about it. But in my knowledge only once has this event ever occured- to my friend on a bus journey from Coimbatore to Kochi. For it is not important just to get a girl sitting next to you, she has to be someone who doesn't treat you like you have the plague, and actually wants to have a conversation. Someone who is not weird for a change. And the friend afore-mentioned has been the only recipient of this honour. If you are reading count yourself lucky you idiot! Anyways I thus imagined with a sense of pure wonder if that would happen. Bammmm!! I felt my cycle's handle pumping into my tummy and the air going out. I opened my eyes and struggled to stay on my legs. It was an almighty crash and no-no girl lay in my arms. The one in front was picking herself up while the one riding pillion had gone flying from what it looked. The bag she carried had probably aided and both had gone flying and lay equally sprawled in the middle of the road.I nursed my hurt stomach and was thankful that nothing else had happened. I wasn't that sure about the girls though.
"I'm really sorry. Are you hurt? I really couldn't do anything. I had pulled over to let you pass"(How could I tell them the Shani story anyway?)
"No it is ok. I'm fine"girl-in-front spoke. I wasn't so sure about her companion though. But she helped herself up as well, gingerly, and nodded her head to my enquiries about her health and well-being. So I assumed it would be best to leave the surroundings.
He likes me. He really does-Shani; and this is his usual way of showing love for all the days he has missed me. I get this from time-to-time, so its no big deal. But you have to admire his handiwork. He does it with such panache that you just fall for it everytime-oh Shani! I sometimes end up feeling relieved that I'm alive and all my limbs are in working condition. Many times I don't get the latter satisfaction you see- so it pays to be thankful for small mercies. And for the times that your life structure hasn't changed by his sudden outburst of love for you. Oh such love!!
PS: It was revealed on inspection that the crash in the morning had actually smashed the brakes and there were no brake-pads to speak of. Shani had designed it so well so that the fun lasted till the afternoon. Damn you.

Chachan and I went Trekking...(Epilogue)

2011-11-02T21:20:00.000-07:00

To @ with love

Epilogue

The trek back

The next day it was a long trek of about 23 kms. straight to Chidwasa our first spot, that awaited us. We had breakfast and said our final good-byes to Nandanvan and the mountains around. It was a joyous lot that made their back. We had achieved what we had set out for and the trek back was mostly downhill so there wouldn't be much of a strain. We clambered over the rocky section and Chachan was fortunate for having not made it with one limb less when Shuttle upset a one-ton-or-so stone. We set off at a terrific pace and we had wonderful conversation along the way. Chachan and I discussed everything under the sun. When we stopped for a break DK Bose showed us the fun ain't over anymore by stepping into what seemed like quick-sand. He was knee deep when we pulled him out, but he insists he had found a foot-hold..maybe he did. We passed people on the way after Goumukh and Bhojwasa. And I was cheeky enough to wish a French dude 'salut' after he gave me a 'namaste'. Someone ought to tell these guys that namaste is virtually unheard of nowadays and they look really funny bowing and saying 'namaste' as though we don't know a word of English. Small kids nowadays are taught to wave and say 'bye-bye' or 'hello', but hey its nice to hear a namaste once in a while. I wouldn't score high if my French ma'am heard that I wished him an informal 'salut'. But it was part cheek and part bro-hood on these mountains, so French guy if you are reading-"salut". We reached Chidwasa by evening, but Dude was nowhere behind. He was limping somewhere far behind, given company by a tired Kaanta. When he finally made it to camp, the whole camp cheered for its only 'lady'. Hey but he did brave the boils a long time. The next morning I made sure my last dump on the mountains was memorable by selecting a good spot like before. After this I went over to the river-bank to pay my respects to the river one last time. It was a solemn affair, and that was when I got the idea to get you what I got you-@. It was tough finding, but it was worth the trouble and Chachan helped too. After breakfast we made the last stretch back to Gangotri. Me and Chachan met a group of Malayalees on a pilgrimage and were treated as heroes for having been to Nandanvan and Vasuki-Tal. Our small moments of pride; it was nice to meet people from back home. On the way back to Uttarkashi it was more heart-clinching turns by bus and more camaraderie. We got back day after to the insti saying goodbyes to Jhansi & c.o and Kaanta 2 at Haridwar. It was the day after we started from Uttarkashi when we dragged our tired arses into SAC.

Final Words

It was a trek I'll remember for a life-time. It had so many incidents, so much thrill, so many mishaps, so many heart-stoppers, that it truly reflected the name Adventure and Trekking (club). Right from the start to the very end it was a nerve-trying, gut-wrenching ride and in between all this fun. It was a trek in which I was reborn-twice, with many near-death experiences. Like Kaanta said "in sab mein hamein seekhne ki bahut sare cheezein hein"(There's a lot to learn in all this). It was something which made me think more of you-@, everything connected to me, and life in general. I shall never forget the new friends I made on this trek. Guys, the time we spent together will remain with me forever. Hope we could do another one soon. Waiting for that and the memories it will bring....

THE END.

Chachan and I went Trekking...(Part 4)

2011-10-20T20:46:00.000-07:00

For @ and the rest of my already-family...

PART-4

Dreams that won't go away...

The next day I woke up to an altitude-sickness-free morning. I rubbed my forehead in glee, it had probably gone away sometime in the night. It was then that I remembered something-the three dreams that I had had the previous night. The 3 dreams that had woken me up and that which I had gone over again to relate to Chachan in the morning. For they were so strange that I felt I really had to tell him. But that could wait-first I had to find the watering hole for some urgent business. Someone had drunk my precious 'essentials' water and I shuffled my way over to the stream uttering some choice curses to the chill mountain air. It was so cold that the tents, the boots that lay outside were all covered with ice. The dew had frozen. The lichen and the small grass on the ground were all covered with ice. The ground was a thin layer of white under the rocks, on the grass, everywhere. I found Chachan by the stream by a gutter he found filled with- ice, that's right, and we broke the ice and carefully collected the water underneath. I once again found a beautiful spot behind a rock to take a dump. Why do I find such awesome spots? Awesome view of the mountains all round, really if someone could give me hot water, I bet there was nothing to beat the experience of taking a dump on the mountains. After the morning chores me and Chachan got talking on a rock near our tents. I told him about the dreams.

"Did you dream yesterday? I had the most astonishing dreams yesterday-and 3 of them can you believe it?!

"Did you?..Ente aliya yesterday I had a very terrifying dream. I have never been this scared about anything for a long time."

"What was it about? I will tell you about my dreams after you say yours-in a stretch."

"Onnum parayanda(Don't even ask!) I dreamt that I was re-admitted for Sunday Catechism in 10th standard!! "(For those of you who don't know. Its just religious education for an hour or so every Sunday. No big deal-even a lot of fun. We meet our friends there and its always a chance to see the girls in the neighbourhood.)

"What! that's what scares you? Harmless Catechism? What's scary about that?"

"You don't know. I have always been scared of Catechism and I have never gone after 10th."

I had visions of Chachan's dad tugging a very reluctant 'small Chachan' to the Catechism class and of an older Chachan who dragged his feet to the class while the rest of the class was perched on the church boundary walls keeping a sharp lookout for the neighbourhood beauties coming to church. Poor Chachan!sniff!-no that was just me clearing my nose.

"Well yesterday I had the most beautiful, yet strange dreams of my life. All about @. Each continuations of the one before it. And it was so clear that when I woke up in the middle of the night, I decided to go over the story again so I could tell you."

"Really! My God! all about her?"
"Yep all about her. All taking place at our insti. Each in perfect correlation and even having direct references to what has already taken place. But there was one main difference."
"What was that?"
"There was a character who doesn't exist in real life. There was a villian in the story, a guy who challenged me."
"That's ruddy brilliant! Never heard anything like that. A guy who challenges you...one who doesn't exist..Mawe I don't know a lot about this whole dream business, but you know I do read stuff about psychology right?"
"Yeah what about it?"
"Well what if your brain is taking all the obstacles in your path and giving it a human form? You know the rest of your story fits in real life even though some of it is yet to occur. But this particular character..what if it is just your brain talking to you? There's talk of that kind of a thing happening, in psychology lectures..."
We didn't speak for a while as we thought it over. Damn that sounded fascinating, I hadn't thought of that. But the more I thought about it, it could be have been possible, my brain picturising my obstacles indeed..and what if things ended the way it did with the guy?Oh my God! I felt a warmth running through my veins!!...
By now guys had woken up. I could see Kaanta2 coming out of his tent. He had braved a lot of boils on his feet on yesterday's walk and was a real hero in making it, the way they hurt him. There was Dude limping about, his face a sorry Monalisa-he had a lot of boils under his feet too and some had broken. There was Trekker running about with toothpaste- I reckon he was the only one with toothpaste atleast enough for a month in the mountains. I could hear someone shouting to check in on DS-DS was a late waker, a bit shy to wake up, but once on the road there was nothing late about him. Did he get altitude-sickness? From the shouts I heard there was nothing wrong with him. It felt good to be in the world of the healthy again and I was looking forward to the hike. Very soon I could Jhansi and c.o fooling around and the sun stepping up over the mountains. The ice on the tents started dripping, and we had our breakfast.
Hike:Nandanvan-VasukiTal (approx. 6kms 1-way, max. alt. approx.4900-5000m)
We set off after that without our rucksacks-phew! across a valley that lay to our left with Shiv-link behind us. We followed the stream a long way, and the path slowly climbed onto a ridge that lay as long as the eye could see-long and winding and climbing. I was enjoying it, what with no altitude-sickness and no rucksack I was very happy. We climber over more stones and were walking on the ridge both sides of which had begun to fall sharply to rocks and crevasses. We must have gone half an hour when Shuttle clutched onto a rock and sunk to the ground.
"My head is killing me!! I cannot walk"
Altitude-sickness again. Shuttle joined Bob at the end of the queue and someone gave him water to help reduce the pain. We carried on, Shuttle and Bob struggling along and still keeping up. As we walked we saw glaciers far below. The water collecting in big pools, the sunlight glancing off the melting ice. We were walking on a ver narrow ridge as usual and sometimes there was no way but to walk on the slopes, slipping and sliding, with sheer falls on one side. We must have walked for about three hours and we had a glacier ahead. Huge rocks lay to the bottom with loose sandy and rocky slopes to get to them. The ice in the rocks was melting at places and there could be rockfalls at anytime, the guide had cautioned. From this point on no one who wasn't sure of his bearings could go, and we had to leave the ones who were ill behind. They had braved a lot of pain to reach here with us, but it was too risky to take them further. What followed was more slipping, sliding on the slopes, nerve-wracking jumps over rocks and sure-footed landings on some. We finally reached the side of the mountain we had to climb to reach VasukiTal on the other side. There was a slot in the mountain-side and since it wasn't high enough to walk in, there was a rope strung through it and one had to catch hold of the rope and walk slanted on the mountain-side. There was a sheer drop to huge rocks in the glacier for a lapse in concentration.
Cats have nine lives.I have used up one of mine.How many have I left?
We began our journey upward. I caught hold of the rope and tried my first footholds. The mountain-side was slippery what with there being loose sand on a rough surface. It was one step at a time. And every step with the utmost concentration. We were walking slanted on an already inclined surface. On the way my bottle slipped out of my pocket and fell away. I could hear it thudding away a long way below. No just concentrate in your next foot-hold. As we reached the top about 10-20 m. below the rope gave out. THERE WAS NONE OF IT. EITHER IT HAD WORN AWAY OR SOMEONE HAD TAKEN IT OFF. SO WE HAD 20m TO CLIMB ON A SLIPPERY INCLINED MOUNTAIN-SIDE AND NO ROPE. THERE WAS A GLACIER WITH HUGE ROCKS UNDER US AND WE HAD NOTHING TO HANG ON TO. What followed was the most nerve-wracking, gut-trying, tense period of my life till then. We clutched on whatever we could get. We made hand-holds, dug our fingers into the sand and found surfaces of rocks to hold on, found niches in the rocks, burrowed our hands into the sand groping for hand-holds, searching for footholds, testing some to see if they would hold-and praying. I prayed to God with probably the most intensity and frequency during that period of my life till then. Finally after pulling our bodies,climbing over the surface we made it to the top. 13 of us 14 of us with the guide of the 16 made it to the gentle slopes of what was VasukiTal that lay below. There was delirious joy having made it risking our lives and with much difficulty, everyone mad with joy. The lake was beautiful, the calm green waters a sight to remember, in that valley surrounded by mountains on all sides. We ate our lunch remembering to keep some for the ones left behind and drank water from the lake. There was a photo-session of the victorious group.We decided to make our descent in order that we get back in time before sundown. And that's when we understood what we had put ourselves into. To climb up without a rope was o.k compared to getting down with gravity forever willing to take you down faster and the slopes as slippery as they were. Blood drained from our faces as we set about to do it. We descended, trying to gain footholds but this time facing the deadly drop below; we lay on the ground pasted on the mountain-side and gripped whatever we could trying to make our way down. That's when the guide reappeared by my side.
"Daro math.kade hoke neeche utharo..la apke haath deejiye..mein aapko jaane nahiin doonga agar mein chala gaya fir bhi.."(don't be afraid.Descend down standing.Give me your hand I won't let you fall even if I fall) With that he showed me how to do it.M'God! this man was a goat..so nimble..so sure.
But that showed me how to do it and I mustered courage and descended standing up. We reached the rope section. I must have taken a few steps down when it happened- I slipped, and for a few seconds I hung by the rope-the whole bloody ravine below me. My grip on the rope was always good and that saved me, as also did God's grace. I regained my footholds and made my way down. Cats have nine lives. I had used up one of mine on our way here and I had used up another now. Damn how many have I left? From the rope section it was back acrooss the glacier. More precision jumping, slipping, sliding and climbing up to the ridge. We made our way back to the campsite-a victorious and happy lot, we had made it to VasukiTal-and back too, to tell the tale and our joy knew no bounds. On the way the Kaantas and me had the fortune of seeing a stream start to flow right before our eyes. Ice had probably melted somewhere. It was evening by the time we reached back at Nandanvan. And the sun was just saying goodbye. We set about gathering the dried grass and whatever dry that could light up for a bonfire.
The night is ablaze
That night was a night to remember. 16 guys and a guide who were deliriously happy and a blazing fire that sometimes smoked our eyes off. All of us took turns on tending to it but DS was 'chief fireman'. We recounted old insti stories, girl-friends too were remembered. HALL-2 anthem was proudly sung atop Nandanvan-but what happened to Hall-3 anthem eh?(hahahaha)It was some night, 16 guys around a blazing fire the light dancing on our faces, us standing with our arms outstretched to get them warm. It did get us warm pretty quickly and at times made us cry too-ohh that smoking grass! Remo on his ingenious ways of getting the fire to burn right...Jhansi in a desperate effort to get his bottom warm..Laughing,cracking jokes...DS swaahaaying to the fire..what fun! Oh..we had a night to remember-Kaanta was supposed to park his arse on the smoking ashes after 1 hour to see if they were still hot, and if it was and he lost the Hall-3 guys had to sing their anthem in jubiliation. We know that Kaanta lost for sure-na Kaanta? but still no anthem?? Apparently that's only for 'special' occassions eh Hall-3 waale? Lets leave them to it..
To be continued...

Chachan and I went Trekking...(Part-3)

2011-10-18T02:58:00.000-07:00

For you @, though it will be sometime before you read this..

PART-3

Day-3 Trek Bhojwasa-Nandanvan(Approx. 14 kms,max alt 4500-4700m. odd)

Breakfast on the third day was a solemn affair for me and even though Kaanta urged everyone to eat more and finish the dhaliya and maggi, I took care not to eat more. 'cos this was the day that it would 'f@tegi', in short we would have to sweat it out. The day involved a massive climb till 4700 odd m. and a distance covered of nearly 14kms which was no mean feat. But we would get further surprises from the terrain later on. I got into my 'harness' 'cos that's what it was-my left shoulder-band tied firmly to my waist-band, and once in, I was in for the day; and we set off. The path began a steady climb and at times it would fall for a respite(in the mountains its always like this-the guide explains). We walked in single file, some impatient to move on even disobeyed Kaanta's orders of no-overtaking. DK Bose and Trekker were members of this category, but a new member would join them by the end of the day. The wind was a constant companion, harsh and unfriendly, but still sticking to Hutch's philosophy(the network always follows). I wished it would push off really. What with 6-point something kilos in rations alone, I had enough trouble to cope with without the leaky and sore nose that the wind was bringing in. The nose felt like it would break off any minute. The terrain changed rapidly- now there were rocks in the path, all with undisturbed edges. Now the style changed to walking on the rocks..selecting edges to walk on. This must have gone on for a couple of hours and I was just settling into a rhythm when we reached Goumukh. We saw the icy-rocky cave from which the Ganga supposedly originates. The board near the small hut of a temple announced-Goumukh(4000m.). We had jaggery and channa and Gluose-D and I rested my bag against a rock and sat stretching my legs. We resumed again cursing the stop 'cos it broke the rhythm and our leg-muscles felt like they had frozen stiff. More rocky terrain followed and gradually we got accustomed to walking on the rocks. There were couple of times when I would bless 'em hunter shoes for preventing a sprain as these would hold the legs quite stiff. I was dragging myself-a towel tied across my fore-head to beat the wind, and before long I found myself towards the back with Kaanta who was there to encourage people along. It was him who perfected the theory of walking on the rocks-never use your hands, don't be afraid of them, walk right on the edges if you can. With him back there encouraging it was easier, for with nearly 4 hours of continuous trekking things were getting monotonous and blurry. We rested for a while in a valley finding shelter behind a big rock. More jaggery and channa followed-I have never had so much jaggery in my life but it was for sustenance and no one asked questions, just shoved it down their throats. Water we got from way-side streams-crystal clear and ice-cold. The guide pointed out Nandanvan for us-ahead of us and to the side, up and behind a mountain range. It looked like another 3 hours of climbing. We set off and must have gone about half an hour when the terrain again changed. We were surrounded by mountains, barren and solemn, towering custodians of-something, what we couldn't figure. It was like they were watching as you passed amidst their midst, the silence was quiet eerie. But that was not what I meant; the terrain had pulled up a surprise-ahead of us lay what was probably centuries of rock-fall. Big huge rocks the size of rooms to small ones that rolled away when u stepped on them and our path was through them. I was walking at the head of the line with the guide infront of me and we started making our way, climbing over rocks, jumping from rock to rock, landing on edges, running over them, squeezing between them- I was enjoying this part, I was putting to practise Kaanta's theory and I was loving this. There is something in knowing which rock to land on and where to land on. I must have cut my fingers a couple of times in the process, but I didn't care. We must have gone about 15-20 min when the guide announces "halt! the normal way is gone..there must have been another rockfall.We will have to go around, figure our own way."(what way had there been?it was always clambering on rocks in a general direction.) So we 'de-toured' not that it made sense to any of us, but he probably knew where he was going and that was enough for us. There was more climbing on rocks, more jumping like goats a la commando style from rock to rock,slipping,sliding. We walked on ridges with a melting glacier on one side and a sharp drop to rocks on the other with hardly space to lay a foot-it was just a pointed ridge of loose mud and rocks; we just walked on the slopes and on it whenever there was space. Sometimes it was a steep climb over the rocks with people stopping to catch their breaths-and it was probably around here somewhere that Pack Mule showed his identity. As I said there's nothing wrong with this fellow he's just impatient to move forward, doesn't understand anything else and doesn't understand any language that's being spoken to him when he's doing so-all he wants is to move forward-as stubbornly and as bluntly as any pack mule ever born. He cared little for Kaanta's stern words of no over-taking and wouldn't care whether people were waiting for people ahead to catch their breaths-as far he was concerned he wanted to-that's right keep moving forward. But he was a great chap mind you and was always giving out words of encouragement whether people needed them or not. So with Pack Mule butting about we clambered over more rocks,climbed down many and finally climbed the steep climb to Nandanvan and stood at the far end of a huge meadow. Meadow 'cos there was some wild-grass/lichen growing and lichen everywhere..on the rocks,under them-some life-form in this barren world. We walked to the far end of the meadow where there was a rock that would offer little shelter from the wind and set up camp near it. We were on a table over-looking the valley we had passed and surrounded by mountains. Peaks Shiv-link, Bhagirathi 1,2 and 3 stood majestically around us filling us with awe. Their snow covered peaks and slopes were majestic in the evening sun that was setting over the mountains. With passing time the clouds that had begun to form since afternoon began sweeping around these mountains and slowly began to envolope them and by dusk they would have hidden them from view.

Bluuurrrgh!! and more news:

As we pitched tents I started getting a headache and a heavy feeling in the head accompanied by uneasiness.Jeez! don't let this be altitude-sickness-but it was. It began to get worse,the heavy feeling and the dull throbbing in my head. I shut my eyes and rubbed my head fiercely wishing I could crush the pain. It did offer relief but the situation didn't change. I crawled into my sleeping bag in the tent to escape the biting wind and wondered why I was sick even though I had tied a towel around my forehead. Chachan got me soup that was already cooking in the 'kitchen'. Kaanta poked his head into the tent-opening.

"Oyye no one in the tents. Come we are going for a walk".

"Oh c'mon Kaanta a little more time. I'm sure this headache will go away then".

"No, no it will not go away. You have to come with us. It will go away only with acclimatisation. Come I will give you medicine too later."

So saying he dragged me from the tent. I joined the others and we had a walk around where we spotted wild-goats-these are the only animals found at this altitude except for a crow-like mynah which is found in these parts. The goats are sure-footed devils and they go about prancing as though the steep slopes and the sheer drops mean nothing to them-indeed that's the case. So it was that our li'l party thought a bhakra(goat) or two for dinner wouldn't be out of place, and set about trying to catch them, me watching from a distance, Pack Mule-kind soul that he is, giving me company. As far as I could see even though Remo, Jhansi and Kaanta ran helter-skelter with the others giving them ample support our gang of fourteen(excluding me and PM) couldn't round up a single goat. Those nimble things were too good. After dinner channa where Chachan tried his maximum to help me eat(bless him!), we settled into our tents. Oh! one word about the water-the only source of water here was a stream that would flow in the afternoons and freeze over-night. Even in the evenings water would be found only in the gutters in the stream-bed. This was probably fed by ice melting in the afternoons somewhere. So it was that everyone remembered to fill up water for their essentials in the morning-one bottle-full. Kaanta gave me a Dygene just before sleeping and asked me to wake him up if the situation went seriously bad(I don't know what we would have done without this guy). We went to sleep in prior fashion; sleep being an extremely scarce and coveted commodity on the mountains. I don't know what time it was when I heard a shout and someone clambering over us from my left. I tried to make out who it was-either Bob or Shuttle. Shuttle was a regular case of altitude-sickness and Bob had complained of stomach troubles the previous evening. He burst through the tent opening(thank goodness one of the zippers was gone) - and not a moment too soon.

Bluuurrrgh!!!(Iam not trying to be gross, just trying to paint the scene in the tent.) Blaaarrrrghhhh...

I felt sorry for the poor guy. He was probably puking his insides out. Chachan gave him his 'essentials' water to clean up. I squirmed in my sleeping-bag with each out-burst and tried not to think about it. I felt that I had to be the next customer, I had altitude-sickness didn't I? Bob clambered back in saying he was very relieved. Through the night my headache had kept increasing and between patches of sleep I became more and more tensed-what if this thing didn't wear off?What would I do for the hike the next day?I must have been sleeping for sometime I guess-when I woke up feeling a sudden urge to pee. Remembering the condition I was in I checked myself by standing in the tent-nothing. I stepped over Chachan and out of the tent-and I felt myself reeling. I still don't know how fast that feeling came, with the first blast of the chill mountain air, I felt the blood in my head draining, the world was going unsteady under my feet and I knew I was nearing a black-out. I clutched at the central tent-rope and hung on to it-literally hung on to it-my feet were useless, and I called out to Chachan.

"Chacha..da thala karangunneda..enne pidikku!.."(Chachan Iam feeling dizzy. Catch me!)

"Eda athu ullatha ii altitudil..ni kurachu neram avide irikku"(Its usual at this altitude. You sit down for sometime, you will get well.)

"Ok."
And I sat. Now why hadn't I done that in the first place instead of hanging by the rope? 'cos that was all the sense I had at that time and just hearing his voice was probably a reassurance. Chachan would tell me later on in the morning that he didn't remember a thing and that he had probably sleep-talked.

Anywho after sitting for sometime, I felt the situation return to normal and found a spot quite close-by to pee. As I peed I raised my eyes to look at the sky. And oh my God!! I have never seen anything like it. The sky was so clear here that I could see millions, millions of stars. The sky a deep black and the stars a sparkling deep-blue -like jewels scattered on a dash of velvet. It was like I was at the centre of a black, glass dome with millions of brilliant blue jewels strewn across all over. I have never seen anything more brilliant. I clambered back inside only 'cos I was wary of my condition. I slept peacefully after that but not without incidents but that was for discussion only the next morning.
To be continued..

Chachan and I went Trekking...(Part-2)

2011-10-12T04:46:00.000-07:00

Dedicated to you @...

Part-2

LAMKHAGA?

For sometime on the bus it was carried around in whispers, but by the time we arrived in the hotel in Uttarkashi it had become clear-we were not going to Lamkhaga. Long story short, DS had been trying to get the permit for a month and it still hadn't seen the light in the District Magistrate's office. How quickly we process things in our Govt. offices! After much swearing and debating on what was left in this trip(where nothing had gone to plan), it was announced that we would be going to Gangotri instead and make our way up from there. The news was that this was an easier trek and all of us felt let down. This was not what we had taken DS's morning p.t for and not what we had dreamed of. But Kaanta made it clear that this would be a proper trek and though it would not be that difficult it would be worth it. We went to sleep at Uttarkashi on that.

Day-1(Gangotri-Chidwasa,9kms,max alt-3500 odd m.)

We took another bus in the early hours at Uttarkashi to reach Gangotri. On the way Jhansi and c.o entertained the group with their hilarious accounts and also held an informal get-to-know session with the juniors. Trekker and Bob shared their life-stories. I think Bob did really have a life-size story 'cos I could hear him for so long. After a quick lunch at Gangotri we set off at approx. 2.30 p.m., and that was when I got the first lick of what was to come. On a full stomach with 7.9kilos in rations alone(rucksack totally might have been 17odd atleast), climbing up from Gangotri felt like pulling a cement-truck up the incline. But not to be outdone and swaggering like a veteran I chatted with Chachan as we climbed up the hill-side towards-Chidwasa we were told. I couldn't guess where we were going. Names like Chidwasa,Bhojwasa,Nandanvan,Tapovan kept floating and from what sense I could make of it the first stop was Chidwasa, so Chidwasa it was. After about 15-20min. we reached the check-post and rested for a bit. I grounded my imaginary cement-mixer and panted like my neighbour's lab-remember him? Chocolates(mango-bites) were passed around(mango-bites? where were the glucose-drips and a protein shot too while you were at it?). I took a healthy swig from my water-bottle remembering that too much would add to my 'cement-mixer', and ate the mango-bite in silence.

"C'mon,move forward guys!!" it was Kaanta who reappeared from the check-post.

And move forward we did, me walking just ahead of Chachan. As we walked we started noticing the terrain. There were sal/pine trees all around and the path was littered with stones. The soil was loose and it was sandy most of the time. The path climbed quickly and we soon had the Ganga roaring furiously far below. Taking care not to trip on the stones I walked bent forward as I pulled my 'cement-mixer' forward. Words were scarce and were just passing references between Chachan and me as both took notice of the heavy loads they were carrying. The terrain was beautiful, littered with sal trees on the hill-side and the Ganga flowing turbidly below, that it was a shame that we had to deal with the weight also. Very soon we made aquaintance with a new member-the wind, it blows down the valley at speeds ranging from a breeze to a small gale. The local people regard it as a life-force but I in my present condition could hardly figure out how that made sense. It was chilly and bit into you and also carried the loose sand of the valley along with it. As I moved forward, it pushed into my lungs and the sand stung my nostrils. I looked around at the others. Except me and Chachan most had the new rucksacks, a bit heavier, but in better condition. But maybe that hardly made a difference as some were struggling while others pushed stubbornly forward. We walked forward for what seemed like an hour or two, I don't know-I was scared to look at the watch, just wanted it to be as long as it could be. On the way we met a group of lawyers on a trip to these parts. These lucky guys had given most of their luggage to porters.
"Hello where are you guys from?" I asked the nearest one.
"We are from Chennai and you?"
"We are from Kanpur. What do you do?"
"We are all lawyers. Me and my friends are on a trek to Goumukh. What do you guys do?"
"We are from IIT Kanpur"
"Oh so you are engineers? That's great"
"Aama engineers than. Aana ipo eruma-maadu mari sumandhittu irukkirom..(Yes engineers, but right now we are carrying loads like cattle) I said laughing.
"Oh Tamil theriyuma? Where are you guys from? And is this trek voluntary or a course?"
"We are from Kerala"I said pointing to Chachan"And ya Tamil konjam theriyum(I know a bit of Tamil) and no this trek is voluntary."
"Appo pinne then you have to carry. Did you have training for this?" (then you have to carry) he said laughing.
"yeah..haha..We did 1 month conditioning for this."
"Oh..that's good..c'mon then you can do it"
"Thanks..yeah I will"
In a short span of a few dialogues exchanged we became friends with these people and we would later meet them at Chidwasa and on the road to Bhujwasa as well. We had until sunset to reach Chidwasa and since we started out at 2.30 that was give or take 4-5 hours in these parts. The walking was always in a fast pace then and my breathing laboured. With the cold wind to aid, my nose started dripping like a leaky tap. I just kept wiping it with the back of my hand and it soon became sore-who cares, I just thought about moving forward as that was all I could think of. We passed several people on the way, most old pilgrims, many families, most of them on mules, others walking, carrying a stick. Tottering along would be the proper word for these people didn't walk, they just waddled forward ever so slowly. I felt sorry for these poor people-so much to gain moksha. Most at an age when they should be sitting in their backyards watching the sun set over their guava trees, here they were trying to gain that extra bit of moksha huffing and puffing the lives out of them. There were foreigners too, walking along with sticks that ought to be of use to serious climbers, but now looking comical being used on dry sand at far less an altitude. There were couples along the way and they were probably the only ones who lent a bit of colour to the scene apart from the rich canvas spread out by nature herself. We passed over two streams with logs across them serving as bridges. It was fun to walk balanced across these logs(max. 3) with the stream rushing furiously down the hill-side. Somewhere in between a rhythm had bulit up and we walked mechanically-some like Trekker were filled with enthusiasm and kept overtaking people. Very soon the heavy-rucksack-to-personal-weight ratio started taking its toll on me, and my old worn-out rucksack didn't help the cause. Me and Chachan were careful even in shifting the load from shoulder to shoulder-there were already rips in the rucksacks and we didn't want it to split open by a sudden jerk. So it was that with around two hours of walking, I found us towards the back of the queue, Chachan there because I had begged for him to be there for moral support(folks remember I had shown-off back at SAC for having had 7.9 kilos in rations alone? I repented with my whole heart for the act, and wished many times that it had not been the case.) In such bad condition was my rucksack that the band which is supposed to be around the waist and take some load off the shoulders was flapping around just above my knees, and I was staggering forward. Chachan noticing the poor state I was in would proceed to lift my bag for me from the back many-a-time so that I could have some respite-bless him!! I still don't know how I could have made it that first day without him back there for moral and physical support many times. We trudged forward for what seemed like hours, the gang eager to make it before night-fall. After many episodes of physical support from Chachan, Kaanta who was at the back of the queue took notice of the situation. He rushed forward and tightened the stuck bands of my rucksack so that it was bearable. It was 6.30p.m when we stood over Chidwasa-our first camping spot.We descended to the banks of the Ganga to the sheltered spot of Chidwasa.

It was a relief to set up camp surrounded by trees and on the banks of a younger Ganga. We walked on to the pebbled banks and drank in the beauty of the dusk falling fast. It was fun that night to rub our sore-shoulders and thighs and sit in the middle of the camp-site and relate stories in the darkness while the cook got stuff cooking-the kerosene flame lighting up the kitchen area. It was during this story-session that Kaanta told the others how I was walking in 'flash-back' and how the nick-name stuck(@-I owe that to you,who else). Jhansi,Brainy and Remo had cool stories to add of treks they had and Kaanta too joined in with witty old details. We had dinner of rice and dal where I lost a few odd kilos from my rucksack. Everyone was conscious of weight reducing from their rucksacks-every 100 gram gone was met with delight. We went to sleep in our tents with DK Bose sticking his elbows into me and Chachan shivering on the other side.
I woke up early and went on a recce to the river. It was a wonderful scene, sunlight just breaking out on the farther slopes and the river flowing busily on in the virgin dawn. I sat for a few minutes drinking in the view. Then I hurried back to find a spot to take a nature's call. Its fun to shit out in the open-really, the view is so magnificient compared to the graffiti we have back in the hostel "flush you @#$%"- you get the idea..it was probably the best spot I had of ever taking a dump-surrounded by bushes with red,yellow flowers, leaves..it was a hue I can't forget..and ohh..the view ahead-the mountains standing majestically ahead, the sunlight still not having reached them. Its just that each time you wash your hands on the mountains you feel like they will sever off and fall-the water is so frigid, it feels like you are gonna get frost-bite. We had coffee on the banks of the river, me having found the 'mermaid-stone', lying on it in a mer-man pose. Brainy and c.o going bare-chested in a photo-session.
Day 2: Chidwasa-Bhojwasa(distance-5kms,max alt-3700 odd m.)
We had breakfast of dhaliya and maggi(someone's rucksack was lighter and Shuttle sneaked out a Glucose too-so his was lighter too). Immediately after breakfast(note that), we packed our tents and set off for Bhujwasa. This one was easy and we had plenty of time to make it compared to the 9kms in 4hrs. that we did the previous day. We again trekked up a steep incline from the campsite that took our breaths away and having got back on track walked to Bhujwasa. DS was leading and from what I heard Shuttle and his crony Bob tried to match his pace, but even though Shuttle had spent hours telling us how he had won the x-country when Kaanta was in it, he was no match for DS on the mountains. So after a while Shuttle took his place behind DS and stuck to it-DS had gone on a terrific pace. The terrain changed as we walked-the trees gave away to bushes on both sides and the wind was a constant companion. So was the leaky nose. The load was probably lighter by a kilo-and-something but since Kaanta had tightened it, it felt better. The stones on the road also changed, they were no longer rounded-off by passing feet but sharper. There were fewer passers-by here. It must have been an hour into walking and we were passing through boulder-strewn area that it happened-the left strap on my rucksack finally broke. Remo rushed to my side and helped tying up the strap to my waist-band so that I was in a sort-of harness. But it made it easier to carry so I couldn't care less. We passed over another small bridge and climbed over boulders and rocks in valleys. It must have taken 2-3 hrs. to reach Bhujwasa. This was an open camping spot, open to the wind with the river nearby. We descended to Bhujwasa.
We set up camp and the guys started roaming around and finally got playing volleyball. Me and Chachan went exploring and found a sheltered cove under a huge rock,by the river, sheltered from the wind. There was crystal-clear water in the cove fed by branches flowing into the river and this would become our watering-hole. After a dinner of rotis and dal I guess we fell asleep in prior fashion(DKB digging his elbows and Chachan shivering away). Sleep is a scarce commodity on the mountains-you barely get 3-4 hours of decent sleep. The rest is troubled,twisting,turning,waiting for dawn to break, the cold seeping in through the cracks in the tent-opening. In our case to poor Chachan's discomfort the zipper on the lower part of the tent-flap broke off leaving a gaping hole for the cold to flow through. That was also the night when DKB kept us all awake with a series of tales through the night. He tells a lot of stories that kid, but DKB I fear I was the only one listening in the end. And yaawn..I trust myself to have heard the last of em. We don't know what did it, but we dreamt a lot in the mountains and it was in that night that I probably first dreamt of you-@. Nothing that I remembered later-that would come later. In the morning, again I was an early bird and this time I made a bee-line for the cove and to the first sheltered place, 'cos here at Bhujwasa hiding places to take a dump were scarce. Again I found a spot that offered a majestic view of the mountains, but I also had to keep a look-out 'cos I knew it was quite near to where a baba who prayed at the nearby, small temple lived. You can't be too careful about these babas waking up early you know. I finished my chores just as baba came out for brushing, and after a friendly wave with the bottle as I walked by, I walked down to the river-side for some introspection. I found that Chinky had already beat me to it and was introspecting in earnest-so I joined him from a farther stone. Some time later Chachan also joined me and after enjoying the dawn breaking over the valley we had a photo-session with Shuttle.
TO BE CONTINUED...

Chachan and I went Trekking...(Part-1)

2011-10-10T13:09:00.000-07:00

Characters making their appearance in this tale:

1.Drill Saab- no intro required,co-ordi,final yr IITian.

2.Dy. Drill Saab/Johny Depp/Kaanta- As the last name suggests, tough as a thorn.

3.Ration Kada(Ration shop)- He was the one who made our loads lighter.slip him a fifty and you could have 2 kilos off..kidding..nothing worked

4.Shuttle- plays the game.loves to eat.Loves to fib.

5.Bob-From wild-wild-west..shuttle ka sathi. Romeo..

6.DK Bose- He packs,unpacks,irritates,tells nice stories....yaaawn..

7.Pack Mule-the name has nothing to do with his IQ which is quite strong since he has cracked JEE..its just his other qualities..

8.Dude- the eldest member of the group. At 27 he is still romancing ladies in our French class.

9.Remo- old co-ordi...the kewl dude.

10.Jhansi- loves his food..senior to the btechies..with a kaamedy mind.

11.Brainy- senior from Hall-3..

12.Chinky- senior..jovial..wise..his wisdom pours out through his spectacles..

13.Kaanta2- very kaanta..finished 2nd in half-marathon..jolly guy..

14.Trekker- the future of trekking club. He has dedicted his life to trekking.

15.Chachan- IIT mein sathi..

16.Mawe- That's me.

Dedicated to @

I even earned a nick-name on this trip 'cos of you

Part-1

THE FLARES ARE-A-FLARING

"Bon@#$%%e what have you guys bought? Why have you bought Diary-Milk when I asked you to buy Five-star? And why is the channa all squishy? Cdn't you have torn some packets and eaten and checked? And where are you guys? Why aren't you at the SAC and packing?" it was Kaanta shouting through the mobile.

I rubbed my head. Now what could this idiot want? Me and Chachan had finished almost the entire shopping-list for the trek earlier that day. The Lion(guide) was in his den and I was flooded with work. It certainly pissed me off. What Five-Star?What channa?And how the f#$k could this junior be swearing at me?

"Wait I'll come there"

Now to slip out without the Lion noticing. I pedalled furiously to the old SAC. I entered to see almost the entire gang present surrounded by rations. Kaanta was bent over a kerosene lamp pumping furiously.

"Bon@#$%%e tu kis ko gali detha hai re? Aur kya kah rahe ho? Hamne pura saman kareedh liya tha na?(#$$$ Who do you think you were swearing at?And what are u saying?Haven't we bought all the stuff?) I cdn't bear to think a junior could swear at me.

"Saale tum logon ko kisne bathaya Dairy-Milk lane ko?meine kaha nahin kya ki 5-star chahiye?Aur ye chana khake dekha kya?Saare karab hein"(Who asked you to buy Dairy-Milk.Hadn't I asked for 5-star?And had you eaten this chana before buying?Its all squishy)

Now how the hell could I know this guy had a fancy for 5-star? I liked Dairy-Milk. I looked around for Bob who had told me we could get anything. He was hiding and shoving in rations into a polythene, not even daring to look in our direction.

"Arre Bob ne bola tha kuch bhi la sakthe hain.Aur hum packet wali channa kaise kholke kha sakthe hein? Aur tumein kya lagtha hai?-ki mujhe aur Chachan ko koyi kam nahin hai.Udhar lion meri sir kha raha hai(Bob had told us we could get any chocolate.And how could we open the channa wich was in a packet?Do you think me and Chachan are jobless?) The voice levels were raising. We both were shouting now.

"Saale Dairy-Milk agar ek bar garam hota hai to karab ho jata hai..koi nahin kaatha use..feink dethe hein. Aur chana bilkul dry hone ki check karna chahiye.."(Dairy-Milk once it gets a little warm as what would happen when we set off would get bad..people wouldn't even eat it then. They would just throw it off. And the chana has to be checked to be perfectly dry)

More shouting. We were both eye-balling each other now. Ration Kada and DK Bose came to seperate the two of us. Ration Kada explained that in IIT gali-wali(swearing) was considered normal between senior and juinior either way.

So much for my theory that Dairy-Milk was the better chocolate. We both cooled off and I realised he was probably right. I didn't know how Dairy-Milk worked after heating and cooling. Whereas he with his loads of trek experience probably knew. And if the 3 kilos of chana were bad it had to go. Trekker and DK Bose were asked to go return the spoilt items. Me and Chachan would again go the next day and finish the shopping-list.

Meanwhile now that our argument was over, I joined Kaanta where he was working furiously with the kerosene stoves. He showed me how to remove the dirt from the nozzle and get it working. We worked in the flares of the kerosene stoves. There is this thing about Kaanta-he is dedicated to what he does. Infact after the swearing episode, I learnt a lot from him and gradually felt my anger for him fading away. There was something about this trek. By the time it finished, I would come to be thick friends with the ones I hated in the beginning..We finished with the kerosene stoves and divided and packed our rations. I had a whopping 7.9 kilos. I showed-off my heavy ration packet. As far as I knew only Pack-Mule and Trekker had more. What an idiot I was to show-off.

SETTING OFF

Finally the next day we were all packed and ready. After seeing off the Roop-kund group we picked up our bags two each-one for the 'seniors' who would be joining us later on in Rishikesh. So carrying our bags and half-draging the extra-ones we waited for rickshaws. More than half the IIT-junta was leaving for mid-sem breaks and rickshaw wallahs made a bee-line for easier passengers. Who would want to take-on tons of camping equipment? So it was that most of us began our trek from the SAC itself dragging those heavy bags till the IIT gate. Lucky Roop-kund people-they got a damn vehicle right upto their buses.

RACE ON?

After waiting for nearly an hour the Qualis and an Omni we booked quite on-spot arrived at the gate. We got in and began the drive to Lucknow. Me and Shuttle with most of our luggage in the Omni and the rest in the Qualis. As we zig-zagged through Kanpur and out I could see half of someone's arse hanging out of the Qualis and few of someone's limbs hanging out too. It must be a tight squash in the Qualis I thought. I must be in a quite luxurious position even with the gear lever of the Omini being furiously shifted between my legs and Shuttle squirming with his long legs in the Omini front-seat. As we whizzed past what looked like a family on a motorcycle, with papa-jan trying acrobatics, I remarked to Shuttle about the poor state of affairs in the North what with no road-rules being followed. As we neared Lucknow it was all silence in the Omini. We were upto figures like 5 kms in 10 min.-in Lucknow traffic. It was a tight squash. As we neared the railway station with only seconds to spare, Shuttle offered to run and stop the train(do whatever he could). We screamed to a halt at the railway station and like commandos we burst out, each carrying a heavy rucksack and half-carrying, half-dragging atleast another. We ran to the 3rd platform to see the tail-lights of the train moving ahead of us and Shuttle screaming, and running alongside the guard-car, pleading, begging for the train to stop. Now when has that caused a train to stop?

It didn't and we were left stranded on the 3rd platform. Ration-Kada and me went to pick up the left-over bags from the taxi. As we trudged with the heavy bags we got a call from Kaanta to tell us that there was another train at platform 5. So it was more running like mad to platform 5, where we found a train-only it wasn't the one we needed.

"What?At platform 5? We are at platform 5.Where the hell are you guys?" Ration-Kada was trying to make sense of what Kaanta was bellowing from the other end.

More suspense as RK tried to block out the combined noise of the crowd and listen. He dug the mobile into his ears. I felt that it couldn't get more inside. I was wrong; pressed it in further.

"Oyye!! Mawe hurry up. We are on the wrong bloody railway station.C'mon" RK proceeded to run back to the exit on a mad run.

What?Wrong railway station?What the hell did he mean?Has RK gone mad?I followed him anyway and more running ensued. It was only as I ran that it dawned that there were indeed two railway stations in Lucknow. Which idiot designed it that way I wonder. And both having trains going whichever way. Not even the seperate one for local trains mind you. What bloody craziness. We found a coolie mid-way and shoving the luggage into his trunk we ran like crazy with him following. Everyone else was on the train weren't they and what crazy luck if we were the ones left off? All because some idiot had thought of two stations. As we reached platform 5 the coolie suggested we run ahead and stop the train for a few seconds. We ran like crazy, quite bollywood-filmy-like, arms-flailing..screaming for the guard to stop. He must have felt some pity 'cos he asked us to calm ourselves and get into the nearest compartment. We got the coolie to throw our bags in and we jumped in as the train started off. Seconds later we hear more shouting and see Kaanta again running filmy-like to our compartment. What drama. The guard must have seen enough for the night. He jumped in, took a few seconds to catch his breath.

"Are all of you here?" Kaanta asked.

"What are you saying? I thought all of us are on this train"

"Call the others to confirm"

"Wait I'll call Chachan". With that I dialled his number.

"Hello Mawe.You guys ok?Me on the train".

Thank gooodness, they were safely on. The whole gang was probably there with them.

"So you are all safe na? Which compartment are you guys in?"

"What do you mean all?Only Pack-Mule and I are here with three bags and a set of sleeping-mats. We are probably somewhere in the middle of the train. Are all of you towards the last compartment"

"WHAT??Only you and PM are there?Only me,RK and Kaanta here.Where are the rest of the guys.I thought we were the last to board?Are they in compartments further ahead?"

"Mawe only Pack-Mule and I are here. And no one has passed us ahead".

"Shit!!!..wait there then. I will call you when I know something".

I relayed the news. WHAT ON EARTH HAD HAPPENED? WHERE WERE THE OTHERS?KAANTA HAD RELAYED THE NEWS ABOUT THE PLATFORM TO EVERYONE.Another call confirmed it. The rest were stranded on third platform itself. I looked at my mobile. It showed 'DS calling'..

"Hello"it was DK Bose/Trekker on the other end."is DS with you guys?"

"What do you mean? You are calling from his mobile and you ask me where he is?He is not here. Isn't he supposed to be with you guys?"

"No he is not here. His mobile is with me. So he cannot call any of us. I thought he would be with you guys".

More drama. WHERE ON EARTH WAS DS?Kaanta had had enough.

"You guys go on. I will gather the others and follow somehow" he looked out. The train was pulling out and we were among a lot of criss-crossed tracks. It must have been somewhere on the outers of Lucknow railway yards. We were moving slowly. Kaanta jumped out onto the tracks and was lost in the darkness. I felt more respect for this guy.

In the middle of the night we regrouped us and Chachan and PM. They told us that DS had been found with the others. We went to sleep. Dude would be joining us from Moradabad. We were to be awake to show him the compartment. I don't know what woke me a few miles off Moradabad. I woke up Chachan and we had tea as the train rolled into Moradabad. The others were asleep. We saw Dude as the train rolled in and shouted out to him. As the train stopped he didn't appear among the crowd that rushed in.

"What's taking this idiot so long?"

Dude reappared at the window."Why aren't you guys getting out?"

"What the hell are you saying? Get in you idiot before the train leaves" I was sick of everything and didn't want further weirdness.

"What are you saying? DS told me I was to wait with you guys here in Moradabad?"

"We are going to Roorkee you idiot. What are you blabbering" By now the others had woken up.

"Iam saying the truth. DS asked me to wait with you guys here"

Ration-Kada took my mob and called DS. After a few minutes he bellowed.

"Everyone out! They are on a train right behind us. And it doesn't go to Roorkee. We have to wait for them here".

There was a mad scramble for shoes(damn them hunter shoes.They were always hard to be worn in a jiffy.),socks and our luggage. Within seconds four stunned guys and Dude stood on the platform with the luggage as the train started to pulled out. It was lucky that Chachan and I had been awake to see Dude and to get him to spurt out the news. WHY ON EARTH HADN'T SOMEONE CALLED US AND TOLD US ABOUT THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE? Maybe our mobiles were out-of-reach. Within an hour the other train arrived and the whole gang was together. We boarded a bus to Haridwar where Kaanta2 was to join us. We hired a bus from Haridwar to take us all the way to Uttarkashi, picking up the 'senior' gang on the way at Rishikesh.
A word upfront about the bus-drivers and conductors in Uttarakhand. They are about as devoid of a sense of humour as donkeys are of intelligence. I have never seen such sullen,surly idiots. I wonder where they have lost that precious factor. Maybe with each bump that their rickety buses take enroute, some of their brains and their sense of humour is knocked out.
We were enjoying the ride now, cutting jokes, even with the bus conductor trying his maximum to make the environ as sullen as the insides of his dull brain. We watched the beautiful countryside slip by and the bus started winding up the hills towards Uttarkashi. Valleys slipped by and we saw the Ganga far below winding down the valley. Grinding down hill-sides, twisting,turning, churning, in a hurry to get somewhere. Turbulent waters and torrid. The hill-sides were beautiful and everywhere there were beautiful flowers blooming. We passed a few suspension bridges too. Wonderful specimens of engineering.

CATS HAVE NINE LIVES...US?
The bus was taking a tight right-curve high up in the hills when we felt a violent shake and felt it come to an abrupt halt. The initial notion was that the driver had applied sudden brakes-for what we didn't know. We scrambled out of the bus and only then did we realise what had happened. The bus was indeed taking a turn, but as it had done so a bolt from the steering-assembly had fallen off and instead of steering it had headed straight off the road. The violent jerk we felt was not the brakes-the driver explained that he didn't get any feedback from the brakes; it was the bus hitting a cornerstone on the road and it had taken the full impact of the bus. The stone had split open and the bus lay with a wheel over the ravine below. It was a deadly drop down to the ravine, far,far below. But for God's grace there wouldn't have been enough left of us to put into coffins. I felt a cold chill down my spine. I thanked God that I was still alive.
"Aaaaawwwesome!!" that was the giggly chick who had laughed hysterically all the way. I wondered whether this idiot even knew what had happened or whether she cared to find out. Or was it that her vocabulary was limited to 'awesome' and 'chooo chweet'? She jumped out of the bus and proceeded to laugh hysterically and walked down the road with her seemingly lost-his-head boy-friend.
We sat on the road-side. The driver started to wrestle with a wrench. My attention turned to a 'trendy' baba who had moved over and sat on a stone further up the road. He had straight, white hair and beard, wore a pair of dark spectacles and had on Aiwa head-phones. Probably was a pilgrim. But it amused us to see a 'trendy' baba. Meanwhile the driver was huffing and puffing with the wrench. I knew nothing of steering-assemblies and stayed out of it. After a while we noticed 'trendy' baba had joined the driver and within a few minutes had the steering ready.
"What if the bolt again goes loose. Iam not getting back on this bus" it was an anxious passebger airing his views.
"Arre, you wouldn't understand it is being further strengthened by a double-nut. It will never come out. It is a matter of engineering, you wouldn't understand. I can assure you that you will come to no harm because of it" that was the baba talking.
I felt new respect for the man. He single-handedly gets the steering assembly ready and now he talks engineering too. This must be some learned person on a pilgrimage. I walked upto him as we were getting onto the bus and shook his hand.
"Thank you for everything".
"Why are you thanking me for?"baba asks
"Well for what you have done. What do you do? I mean normally"it semed stupid to ask a baba what he did. But I had to know who this man was.
"What I do? What I do is what you had to do and failed to do"
I wished I could evaporate. I had been in this position before too where I was found lacking in practical engineering knowledge. Its alright to be speaking of stress and fluid flows but if you have to call a mechanic to figure out what is wrong with your car I figure you make an oaf of an engineer. I had tried to bridge the gap before but it never was enough. I still had his hand in my grasp and it felt uncomfortable. All I wanted was to be miles away from this situation. My head hung in shame. I could see my friends noticing my predication and a few diving away to escape the same fate.
"Let this be a wakening call for you"the baba proceeded.I nodded.
"What is your name sir?" I simply had to know.
"My name?Why do you want to know my name? You would forget it after sometime anyway"
"No I won't. Not after what has happened anyway"
"What is in a name? A name is just a puff of air, right? A puff of air that is here now and then gone. If you want, to remember a name, remember always the name of God if you can-if you can......."
We shook hands on that and climbed back onto the bus, the words of the baba ringing in my ears. I returned to the teasing looks of my friends but those words rung in my ears far thence. I still remember them now and a promise to myself still pending...
We continued on our way and reached Uttarkashi after a break enroute where we had hot pakodas and tea. It was night by the time we reached Uttarkashi and we trudged up to our rooms and feel asleep...

Chachan And I Went Trekking....

2011-10-09T21:08:00.000-07:00

Prologue

"Fast...FFaaaaster... Full speed mein!!!!"

Drill Saab was crying hoarse. Like machines tuned to perfection the six of us present in the circle swung our arms in 'a plane perpendicular to the plane of the body' (vertical circle for the aam junta). I looked at Dillu-mon. He was sweating profusely; it had not gone well for him at all. He had taken three days off the conditioning to organise the Onam celebrations and it had not gone well for him at all. Not when after the seven initial rounds punctuated by two running up and down the steps, DS had announced a 'buddy-lift' around the ground followed by a rucksack lifting, up and down the steps. Pheww that last one almost took our lives away. It was decided to be stopped only when some imaginary counter in DS's brain told him to do so. And sometimes it seemed that his brain had gone to finish its night's sleep. Today as we swung into the last 10 rounds up and down the steps, Dillu-mon panted like my neighbour's labrador when it wound up on the final stretch on its routine run around the neighbourhood. Rivers of sweat running down his face, Dillu-mon hung his tongue out just like Gypsy(that's what we called the lab) and tried his hardest to take his next step from the bottom-step. "Nothing doing Iam not moving another inch", he mimed in telepathic gestures to me and Chachan and stayed on the lowermost step. As he painted a very vivid picture of the damsel in distress, DS took no notice and continued his count "FIVE..." and we climbed up the steps again.

So it was that after the steps and squats-yes, there were squats with a 20kg bar too (poor Dillu-mon), we resumed our stretching in the circle at the corner of the ground. And DS was working up our sweat. I looked at the others; the routine had moved onto 'hands parallel to the ground and rotating in small circles' and most had expressions of being hung on a cross. I looked at the French gal at the other end. She was the picture of everyone's attention it seemed; c'mon something to take the pinch off the morning-rape. The French gal and her friends would not be coming with us on our trek to Lamkhaga Pass. They had not done enough conditioning and would instead be going to Roop-kund which was considered an easier trek. Still they considered this morning-rape a better way to exercise than 'the stuff for pansies'-as many who had been thrown to the Roop-kund group called it, that took place at the football ground.

As the day's conditioning ended and we walked off across the ground DS called Dillu-mon.

"You have been skipping a lot of conditioning. Aage se fraud math karna. Nahin tho is trek pe nahin aaoge"(Don't skip any more conditioning sessions. Or you won't be allowed to come on this trek)

"I had to organise a cultural function. That's why I couldn't come" Dillu-mon presented his case in his Iam-innocent look. The best he could conjure up.

"Usse koi farakh nahin padtha. apne priorities teek kar lo. Agar aap trek jana chahte ho to conditioning ana padega. No more skipping."(That doesn't make a difference. If you want to go for the trek, you will have to attend conditioning).

"Ok"

Two days later on Sunday there was Double-cross-country(running around the whole insti-twice.once wasn't enough). Dillu-mon overslept and so did Chachan as the Onam celebrations and the heavy Sadhya took their toll. I ran the first round in a daze. I had barely had three-four hours of sleep. My body was still in sleep-mode and several pain-centres and muscles presented themselves during the first round. But I was in a daze and I wanted to see off this damn thing, so I ran and it was like running intoxicated. By the second round my head cleared and I wished it hadn't. Muscles presented themselves which I had hitherto taken for granted and their fatigue put my brain on over-load. When I finished the run at SAC with a gesture like Bolt's I was deliriously happy.

"Damn I have finished this thing"

"C'mon everyone start taking out the tents from the room" It was Dy. DS crying out to us.

For the next one hour we practised pitching every tent there was and rolling them up. As we were leaving DS called me.

"Tell Dillu-mon that he can take back the fee he deposited for the trek. He can go to Roop-kund if he wants. And tell Chachan not to skip any more sessions".

"But...he was responsible for the function like he told you and probably over-slept. Iam sure him and Chachan and can run the x-country later on today" I tried reasoning.

"No. Usually at this point of conditioning we don't let anyone out. But Dillu-mon has skipped far too much. He cannot come for this trek; he can go for Roop-kund if he wants to. And tell Chachan not to skip any more". There was a finality to DS's tone and I realised there was no point arguing.

We would realise it much later, but that was the end of proper conditioning as we knew it. The next week was just a teaser to get our bodies rested for the real-thing. And so it was that of the four of us who started for the trek-Unni, Dillu-mon, Chachan and me, Chachan and I ended up among the twelve that would leave from the insti.

Post AR...

2011-07-29T13:01:00.000-07:00

Characters making their appearance in this blog:

Mawe - me

AR - the ex

Captain - IITK's own son

Ashan - the master(friend at IIT)

Muringa - the chota master (friend at IIT)

Prancko - the excavator (He digs. period. part of IIT gang)

Chachan - the philosopher (friend at IIT)

Unnikuttan/Unni - nothing like his name.That's why we named him that.(IIT mein sathi)

I really had to pull the plug. I had ample time to think about things. I would miss her when she was gone. But when I thought of the pain she and I were going through, it seemed human enough. The last few weeks were hell. Swatting at a mosquito that was buzzing around and thinking about the recent turn of events, I got up. I really had to do it. Reaching for the cord-I pulled the plug. Woosh. I stood still listening to the john flush itself. Bodily ablutions over, I sighed as I made my way to my six-by-ten hostel room.

My last dinner of chicken and rumali rotti was as good as my soon to be ex-girlfriend. I started to think why I had gone into this relationship in the first place, and that's when things got messy. There's no straight answer and no right one for such questions, and I lowered myself onto my bed and tried to get into a position that would remind me less of the mess in my tummy. Last night's 8PM together with the chicken tikka and rumali rotti had made sure I got up at 10 in the morning with my stomach groaning like a road-roller going up-hill.

As I tried to ignore the taste of bile down my mouth, I noticed my FB screen showed a notification. It was Vindhya posting whether "someone needed an independent woman or a dependent one to be his partner". Hell why would someone want a dependent one I wonder, as if other worldly problems aren't enough. There are currently 54 comments on this particular comment and still the debate runs on. People are plain messed up. There are hundreds of such questions posted on FB, some real crap. I remember the ex posting one such one "My friend is not talking to me..what can it be?" I was chuckling to myself thinking how far this would go. And go it did, to the tune of 70-80 comments on the unknown friend,the unknown reason she/he had stopped talking to the ex and here's the really funny part-how should she get him/her back. Now I didn't think so much of stupidity could be found at one place. But apparently when an o.k girl (not even great looking required mind you) posts anything, you have a thousand idiots drooling over the damn page. I smile at the thought that not one of these losers stood any chance at getting the girl over something which she obviously couldn't make her mind up about. Social networking gives us 1percent useful stuff and 99percent crap and still no one gives a damn. Not me, anyway, the ex has got quite a circus going and on boring days I look through the crap and feel a sort of diabolical satisfaction.

Last night the party at Unni's was a splash. Twelve guys crammed into a tiny room, cot and chairs being thrown out to make space for the 8PMs in the centre and the spread of rumali rottis and chicken. Straight from the dhaba near the insti, made by Ghulam bhai and his minions who 'waste no sweat' in making the most delicious meals for us insti people. Anyway no one was complaining as they dug into the chicken tikka. Something tasty to take the bite off the 8PM and no one gives a damn about the dhaba or the history of the chicken. Down my 3rd peg and listening to the guys singing lustily, my mind swam. I was elsewhere, another party on some God-forsaken island and a couple of pegs ahead, my mind was clear enough to give the then loving gf a call:

Leaning on a coconut tree I made the call. I could hear the rings clear; fortunately the reception wasn't bad. I grinned at my luck and my state of affairs. Alcohol flowing through my veins faster than blood, with my favourite people and the only one I could think of calling was her. There's something about us guys: there's some weird satisfaction in calling a girl you know when you are pitch drunk and talking normally of course.

"Helloooo.."she loved singing the hello.

"hello AR"(she shall henceforth be known as AR/ex)

"Where are you?and why didn't you call me till now?" In those days she used to raise a tantrum when I 'didnt call her till then'.

"I told you right? I was going out with my friends on a boat-trip?" I steadied myself on the coconut tree. The tree leaned a fair way making it easy for me to half-lean-half-lie on it as I turned my eyes to the skies. There were stars out in a clear night sky and the moon overhead shone over the lagoon making it a world out of nowhere. There was water all around.

" The signal here was kinda bad, that's why I didn't call till now. But AR the sight over here is beautiful. There's nothing for miles, just water and the sky above. I miss you dear. I wish you were here with me by my side."

"Really?You want me with youu??.."she chided. I love her when she does that. Makes me want to grab her and give her a kiss. Almost rolled off the damn tree thinking about it. It would be better to take refuge on the ground when talking with her. So I lay spread-eagled on my back, on the grass, still looking at the stars. The air smelt of the wet ground and a little bit of the dung that lay around deposited in abundance by buffallo we had seen during the daytime.

"hmm..I want you right here with me, want to talk to you, lie on your lap." I was 'swimming', partly because of the whisky and partly thinking how it would be to lie with my head on her lap..

"hehe.." her laughter rang in my ears "you sound very happy. So you are enjoying with your friends? Where is this place?"

"Yes I am very happy. And that's why I want you with me..This place?Somewhere in the lagoon, who cares..You have that interview tomorrow no?"

"Yes. And sweetie I want you to call me and wish me luck first before anyone else.."

"Done. Wait-there's hardly any range and I am running out of balance." See I was still in control of my senses. I could sense danger ahead.

"I don't care." There it was "Mave (I'm using this nick for this post) I want you to call and wish me luck in the morning before anyone else..before anyone ELSE.." she has a way of emphasising things, that is comical in that sing-song way of hers. I loved it anyway.

"Hmm I will try..but anyway best of luck sweetie..I will call don't worry. Uh..oh..low balance"

"Mave I want you to call me, come what may" I don't think it registered in her mind or if it even mattered if it did, that I was miles away from the nearest recharge centre in the middle of the night, with no boat to take me there. No shop would open till at least 9am the next day, and I am doused in alcohol in the inside (and I know that she kinda knows that too). There's no way I am going to even open an eyelid before 9, let alone get to a recharge shop.

"hmm..ya I will..Now good night and sleep tight..sweet dreams"

"goooood night..sweet dreams" there was the sing-song thing again. Oh! I really want to give her a kiss..

I rolled over on the ground. Ahh..I missed her. My mobile showed a balance of 0.20Rs. There was no way I was gonna make that call. I remember asking chachan to set an alarm at 9 the next day. My head was throbbing now that I was back to reality, the whisky was really kicking in. I remember chachan kicking me in the guts the next day and shoving the mob in my face. How he got up I have no idea. I remember sitting, with my head feeling like lead and my inners feeling like they were taking a ride in my mom's washing machine. I fought the urge to throw up..another 15 min and she would leave..I made the call...

" Mawe u freaking idiot what are you doing there mumbling to the glass. Finish the damn thing and pass it. 4th peg on.." I was jolted back to reality; Ashan was screaming like he was possessed. Frankly I think the guy is possessed when he drinks. Seeing the wild look in his eyes which stared at me through the hair all over his face, I took the last swig and passed it on. Ashan looked pleased. He carefully counted the glasses; I had a vision of my grandmother counting her chicken before locking the coop each night. Seeing that none of the glasses had run away, he proceeded to pour the next peg, the mad look returning to his eyes. His hair which otherwise is found plastered to his head like it was Fevicol and not coconut oil that held it together, tonight hung over his eyes making a sorta weird curtain through which he looked with his 'mad eyes'. Muringa decided the time was ripe for a hearty song between drinks. He envies his singing abilities, Muringa does. But only he does. As he broke the silence with a baritone, Ashan's hair crept into his eye and there was a mad swing with the bottle, splashing the whisky all over the mat and breaking Ashan's pride. Cursing the hair he directed a well placed kick at muringa's shins breaking the song in mid-note. Over on my right unaware of what was happening Prancko was still explaining to Captain how his theory of earthquake detection worked. Prancko was a genius. Well who else could go digging on the dirty banks of the Ganga, come up with what looked like a dog's jaw-bone amidst the ton of muck and 'discover' it was a dolphin's tail-bone? We hadn't seen a dolphin's tail-bone till then, but no one could argue to prancko who said he had seen the same stuff digging around the Andamans.

It was then that I looked at what I was clutching in my hand. I had absent-mindedly browsed through my "contacts list" and had found AR's no. Her smiling face stared back at me from the mobile. I felt sick. Here I was trying to start things over, get away from the girl whom I could no longer stand, and my mind goes rummaging in my mobile and brings up this. A roar went up from Ashan and the gang as the 4th peg was 'on'. I got my glass and staggered out of the room.

True I had pushed her away each time when she had tried for a reunion. But that's cos I hardly felt that she had changed any bit from when we had fought. She had thought up weird reasons about why it was I who was actually wrong. I had had enough. If she wants me she better change her ways. But it was strange that after all this time, surrounded by the people I liked, and in the middle of a party, all I could think of was calling her...

The Love-Letter

2011-02-21T04:00:00.000-08:00

It was another four days to Valentines Day and I was thinking up ways to impress the ol' gal. That's when I had this idea of writing a love-letter. I had long since wanted to write one but never really went about the business. So it was with a new found vigour that I approached the writing of said letter.

I thought “I am doing this thing anyway. Lemme do it properly". So I bought myself a glitter-ink ball-pen(red). Believe me I have never used one before and I have always felt that it was silly to use one. I still stand by that . But what the hell. You atleast have to make it sparkle, if not have a scented letter. Since the only perfume I have is one I wouldn’t care to put on myself let alone on the letter, I decided to go with the ‘sparkle- pen’.

I thought of making the envelope colourful. But then after lot of thinking about how I was gonna smuggle a colourful envelope, in these days of email, past my highly suspicious friends around valentines day, I dropped the plan. Instead I had to decide between a white envelope and the usual, brown, 'official', boring envelope. The white envelope looked smart and I thought of how she would find it fresh and close her eyes and smell it like those gals in Nescafe ads. But that’s when the plan went awry. You see I have seen how letters are carried about in trains and sorting offices. And as I thought of how dirty my white envelope was going to get and crumpled, I had second thoughts.The scene repeated itself(the letter delivery one), and this time I saw a dirty, smudged envelope, white in places. And how she accepted the letter at arm’s length and sniffed at it as if trying to guess where it had been.

That’s how the brown, 'official-looking', 'boring', sturdy envelope won the race over colourful and smarter rivals. The shopkeeper in the stationary must have wondered why this guy was taking one envelope, looking at it and then putting it back . Then taking the other holding it against the sunlight, then putting it back. And then with a heavy sigh taking the brown envelope and asking him how much it was. “For an envelope of one rupee of which I get 50 paise profit, and this idiot checks as if he were buying the wife jewellery. What a jack-ass. Hmmpf" -is probably what the shopkeeper thought when I handed over the one rupee.

So I take this brown envelope and glitter-pen and I look around at the other shops . My mind was swimming. Trying to think if I had forgotten anything. Nothing came to it however. What with this being my first love letter and all; the concept of love itself is enough to make the mind go swimming and a love letter was over-kill. Asking the mind to work when it had gone on a holiday is a futile task. So it was that I took my prized possessions and cycled my way to the hostel, all the while thinking about what I was going to write.

In case you are thinking "what about the paper?" Ha! way ahead of you. I had already thought about the paper. I had seen my cousins get letters from abroad written in ruled sheets where there were flowers on the border. Right when the idea of a love letter had registered itself, the mind had already selected the 'flowery paper'. But looking around the stationery I couldn’t spy any. And I felt it would be wise not to ask for coloured paper with 'flowers on the border' when I had already bought a glitter-pen and a brown envelope with a friend standing mere feet away looking for a pen. So I thought I should let the flowery paper pass for this time. Surely there must be some level on which to improve on the next time shouldn’t there? I had heard from a ‘learned friend’ that girls always look for improvement. And I thought it would be highly wise to leave room for the same. So it was glitter-pen,brown envelope and ahh...the plain white A4 size paper I had bought in a stack earlier-to write assignments which the profs here give by the truckloads. Those were my aids to inform the love-of-my-heart of my intentions...

I sat down to write. "My dear.." oh no! I hadn't given her any cute name so far and it seemed stupid to call her by her formal name. I could come back to that later; so I skipped to the 'main part'. The trick was in describing your lady-love and comparing her to the wind,the stars,the clouds, and the like. This much I knew from my English poetry in primary classes and Bollywood numbers. I decided to have a go with the stars in the sky first. "Your eyes are like the stars in the sky.." "What?!" It felt weird saying that 'cos it sounded-that's right-dumb. Try as I might I could never picture her with eyes other than what she had-normal black ones and no, not a wee bit of starlight. Done with stars I moved on to clouds, wind, and rain with no success. I just couldn't fathom as to how I could relate her to any of these. She didn't move like the wind, more like a normal person, even I could beat her at her pace.And woe be to me if I compared her hair to the clouds. That would be harakiri for sure. If anything respect the lady's hair Iam told. It comes next only to the "Am I fat?" query in the list of things-to-be-vary-of for men who want to keep a steady girl-friend. And me not wanting to test those waters decided to skip the cloud-comparison. It was then that I thought of man's best friend-internet. So I Googled 'funny love-letters' and recieved lots of inspiring rib-ticklers. But as I was not a 'software professional' proposing to his girl-friend, or the 'sailor' proposing to his gal and feeling that most of it was already well known, felt let down by the internet.

It was then, out of desperation perhaps, that I was hit by a spot of imagination, not unlike but never quite in the same category as Kekule when he fell asleep thinking about Benzene. But get me going it did. Before long I had compared my gal to the forces of nature without any discredit to her being and also to the forces in question. I finished the letter and noted that the glitter-pen literally drank ink. Writing with it also felt akin to writing with a quill(it scratches the paper) and I enjoyed that sensation. Someday I have to write with a quill I should say. With that in mind I licked my envelope shut. I then cycled down to the post-office and enquired to the guy-"How much for stamps for normal post to Noida?"(yeah I wanted to send it the normal, slow way). The guy at the counter tired at having had to answer similar questions everyday of his working existence looks up at me. He proceeds to scratch his brow,adjust his spectacles and rotate his pen. And yet manages to stare blankly at me. Perhaps he has not heard me. I repeat my question. The look is replaced with a look of irritation. Not very different from the one I got from a prof during my interview to get into IIT. I retried the same strategy I had tried at my interview-shut up and wait for him to talk. The creases in his forehead deepened to produce a scowl on his face(ditto with the interview). So keen was I in hearing what he had to say that I noticed the entire process of scowl-forming. Since it was the second time in my life that I was witness to the above phenomenon I am already becoming an expert in the details of the process. After the scowl was perfected he asks "usmein kya dikkath he?paanch rupaye ka stamp daldho aur bahar dibbe mein dal dho"(What's the problem in that?stick a five rupee stamp and put it in the box outside). I evaded his condescending look and did as was told.

Only there were two post-boxes there. Both similar in all respects. Now why would they want to create this confusion I don't understand. And one of them was freshly painted. I said a quiet prayer and dropped my letter into the one just outside the doorway-the 'older one'. I had to summon all my will to drop it as there was so much of hesitation regarding the 'right post-box'. It was thus with a battle of sorts raging on in my brain that my involuntary section commanded my hand to drop it. I have always had this weird feeling while dropping letters into the letter-box as though I had no control over them again and would never know what happened to them again. So it was that I trusted the tale of my love with the imaginary vagaries in the Indian Postal Service.

Its been six days with a national holiday and a Sunday included and the letter hasn't resurfaced yet. So much for my wanting to send it the traditional 'normal' way rather than speed-post. But hey she will know it for sure, maybe tomorrow or the day after that. And no the pleasure is not in the waiting.

Mirinda!

2011-02-08T07:27:00.000-08:00

We have our half-fries(a.k.a bulls-eye) and our full-fries(half-fry fried on both sides) in our mess here at IITK. These are the things which keep us going apart from ahem-the need to excel and think ahead. As is always the case with these things the mess-menu soon seemed boring. So in a fit of insanity bordering on harakiri we asked the waiters in the mess to surprise us with a special. And they said "sir aap mirinda khayenge?" We were like "bhaiyya lunch ke beech mein soft-drink?" To which he profusely explains that we hadn't heard him wrong and he hasn't heard us wrong and that it was a dish made from egg and yes, from the same kind that got sacrificed to make half-fry and full-fry.

He grins at our surprised and apprehensive looks and returns with a dish which is neither a full-fry nor a half-fry, but somethin 'beech mein'. As I explained earlier, he would not divulge the secrets of the chef's special. Given our keen understanding of the stuff eggs are made of and the way they are cooked ,we did come to the conclusion-oh wait...I havent told you how it looks; it had the base of a half fry, the top of a full fry and yolk in the middle. The top not that burnt. Anyway continuing from where I left off-we came to the conclusion that no hen would lay its egg like this and it had to be the workings of the chef.

After long observations and several helpings of mirinda, it was concluded that there was a possibility that the chef was probably taking a part of that which is floating on the top when it is a half fry and pour it seperately and then lay the yolk inside and then flip the remanants of the egg to make a sort of sandwich that is mirinda. There is high level research going on in our gathering as to the minute details in the process and also the possibilities of another way that has yet eluded us completely, and is yet to drop on us like the apple which felll on Newton's head.

That the chef remains tight-lipped and the waiters no less, the secrets to the art of mirinda-making are yet to be thrown open to the outside world.. The situation is akin to Stalin's Russia and the kitchen though thrown open to inspection of the quality of food processing, has yet to be charted for the location of the chef when he makes the fabled and mysterious mirinda. No amount of aroma-tracing and trained espionage has revealed the location where this strange process goes on. In stark similarity to the happpenings of the erstwhile Soviet Union ,the kitchen though open to 'inspection' gives the would-be inspectors the kind of welcome Stalin's state gave snooping western reporters. Every cook and helper seems to be looking at you and you feel their eyes bore into your head and there is a smirk which vanishes the moment you have seen it , telling you that they dare you to try and find out.

And the consumate power of the outside world and the big purse that it wields has had no effect on the cook and he has shown no signs of wanting to defect and share the secret. There really seems to be good money that the chef's been paid by the mess-manager to keep his secret intact, even when approached by a 'friend' from the outside world with a bulging pocket. The reply is always the same "ande sab teek hi bana rahein he na?aap enjoy keejiye".

There has been views in our community that it might also be a matter of pride. The chef might be the descendent of a great line of chefs who had, among many other varieties, that were lost over time- the mirinda. Well anywho, since our ploy with the chef and constant espionage had drawn a dead-end, we decided that the only way ahead was to go back in time. We wanted to find out the origins of mirinda and how it had found its way into our kitchen. Though eyebrows were raised and scratched when the cook's esteemed lineage was brought up for discussion, there really was no denying it, 'cos we had never seen the likes of the mirinda elsewhere. And the cook was therefore thought to be 'ispecial'. The question was wherefrom? Theories abounded as to the anscestors of the cook and the means by which he had found his way into our midst.

Now that the anscestory of the cook ws brought into question, arguements raged and the dining hall was the scene of spirited discussion as was never seen in any of our theory classes. The Indian cooking castes were all brought up and discussed and discarded. There was high speculation then, that the cook's genes could have found their way here from across the borders. There was sense in the arguement that together with their marauding armies the Mughals or any of the Persians who set up tent here, would also have brought their cuisine and with it their cooks. They did bring over their tandoori biriyani didn't they? which(sniggering) the Scots think is their own. There was also the possibility that the mirinda was a part of the family chain of Persian delicacies. The matter was thought to have reached some level of sense when a compatriot who until now had been diggin into his roti and dal remarked that the word mirinda hardly sounded Persian or Arabic or Urdu or any of those languages under the same family tree "Infact if anything, it sounds Italian"said our hero as he stopped to check a drop of dal dripping down to his lap. Yeah it sounded right, along with pasta and pizza, mirinda too sounded soo Italian. You have to believe me when this scoundrel still digging into his roti and dal, drawls on "guys you know, I did this interniship in Italy last year and did pick up some Italian"(pauses) where his roti and dal safely found their way into his mouth. "And the Italian word for afternoon-snack is-merenda". "AND U ARE TELLING US NOW?" Curses were showered abundantly at the man-of-wisdom who protested unsuccessfully. There was a mad scramble to finish up lunch and head to Chachan's room and onto the comp. For that's what the twenty-first century does; when in doubt-GOOGLE. Italian cuisine was looked up and there lying smack under the heading 'afternoon snack':

Mid-afternoon snack

Most Italians, notably children, have what is called a mid-afternoon snack or in Italian merenda just after school, from about 3.00 pm to 5.00 pm. This can be anything, from fruit, yogurts, ice cream, nuts, brioches, cookies and biscuits, cake, raisins or mousses.

courtsey: Wikipedia

That the egg found no mention in the list of items was hardly of concern. Now who couldn't have wanted a snack made of egg? Perfectly possible. So with the air of champions who had solved their way out of the labyrinth in the Colosseum we looked at each other. We had solved the first step on a path of many steps that was the riddle of mirinda. Thus was the scheme of things when we gathered in the volleyball court behind the mess after tea. The chef was sitting under the shade of the guava tree behind the mess and was talking to a fellow worker " arre hum batha rahe the...na koyi thi madhuri dixit jaisi or na ayegi.."(chaste Lucknowi Hindi). He pauses to make a guttural noise and spit a clean dump of red paan three feet ahead of him. He proceeded to clear his throat and chews "aur hum batha rahe hein..un dinom mein ithni beed hua karthi thi...." We looked at one another. That had to be as far off from an Italian cook as there possibly was. No amount of Indianisation could have reduced a once Italian family to the heavily Lucknow-Hindi accented, betel chewing specimen that lay ahead of us. So much for the Italian exodus to India which we had been trying to figure out.

Some discoveries are the result of hours of turmoil infront of crazy mathematical symbols and wierd diagrams, others still are brought on by chance such as the discovery of Pencillin, or Colombus's 'discovery' of America. To say that our next step on the path of the mirinda was anythin in comparison to the latter would be highly preposterous, but it was possibly in the same spirit. Anyways having drawn a dead-end again and having to see the waiters sly grin when he brought us the mirinda, it was painful to eat it notwithstanding its good effect on our taste-buds."Yeh leejiye sir, aapka mir anda". As one many a head looked up including the chap who got the 'mir anda'. "Kya bola aapne?" The fellow who got the mirinda wanted to know,his hands still frozen in mid-air. The waiter who brought it was puzzled and was in a hurry-he had another dozen orders to serve. "mir anda sir". In his puzzled nature the man spoke clearly, lost his local slang and for the first time we heard the word as it probably was actually. Mir anda not mirinda -eureka! that was it. That was probably the actual pronunciation of the word and to know the significance of this discovery, it has to be understood that it stopped our untiring search for the mystic egg on the shores of the Meditteranean and brought it closer to home. With the desi touch to the name, the search down narrowed by thousands of kilometres-it is 8135 kms from New Delhi to Napoli in Italy(ahh yes thanks to Google Maps we could figure out the exact routes taken, had the egg been brought to this land via the modern motorways).

So you can trust me when I say the search was practically cut-short when the area included India and its neighbouring lands in Asia. Why Asia? because the word mir-anda had mir which again sounded Persian like those Mir Qasams and the Mir Khayyams and the like which one hears about, and also Mongolian(according to another wise chap). The reason was 'cos the mongols had rulers like Chengiz Khan and Kuble Khan and all those Arabic sounding names and I can almost see Chengiz Khan roaring "hamein mir anda CHAHIYE!" to his frightnened cooks..I can almost feel the fiery baritone. So could the Chinese with their slashing knives have invented the mir anda along with ketchup? Would they, inspite of all the crap they feed us with in the name of fast-food, have given us something as delicious and as thought inspiring as the mir anda? The debates still rage on around the lunch table broken only by helpings of-mir-anda. All in all, it seems we have found our answer to KFC's chicken recipe.They say that they have carried around a secret for 70 odd years,ha! compare that to the centuries-old secret that is mir anda.. Rest assured though that IIT brains will find a way around this one too as they always have. Any information however, regarding this episode is requested to be unfailingly forwarded to IIT K.

Spice it Up!

2011-01-11T06:29:00.000-08:00

2k10 is history, and people from Fiji to Hawaii have welcomed 2k11 with open hearts..The Aussies set their Sydeny harbour ablaze,the Chinese did their part with Hong-Kong, the sheiks followed up suit with the Burj carrying the arsenal, the London-Eye witnessed a brilliant spot of pyro-technics and so did the streets of New York. If I have to pick one I would take Aussie this time..simply loved the show..And while the world kissed and made-up,drank to their hearts-fill and blew up their skies, I drank in the 0000hrs IST on Jan 1 2011 with a pinch of solitude and a pensive mind on what was to come ahead.

Strangely enough I didn't feel a need to take any resolutions. Whether it was the biting cold or a sense of loss that muted my senses I can't tell, but this I know-I welcomed this year in a way very different from the average Yankee at Times Square. True I don't hark in the New Year every year with a kiss and a bottle, but nor have i ever welcomed it by staring at the wall..What clouded my mind more than the heavy mist outside, was the feeling of what was new this time. All my twenty-three years of existence-didn't flash before my eyes..only one thought lay firm...what is new?

The wall didn't answer my thoughts. And then I looked at my options-what did I want to do that I hadn't done already? And even that didn't help..I remembered the words of a poem I had almost forgotten

GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

-Robert Herrick (To the Virgins,to make much of time)

I looked at my hair, were they graying? Why would I in my youth have the musings of an old man..of not having anything to do..The poet's words stung..I felt I had done it all. Had the good life and the bad times, played pranks, repented for mistakes, made friends,lost some, tested in faith, waged battles in life-won some lost others. Where was the spice of life?

It was then that I remembered a face from the past. It belonged to an old man who had a mill near my mom's place. Nice guy he was, and never short of stories. He would sit there on his rickety,old,chair and talk of the past. Of when time was slow and life held a meaning. He drew his favourite audience of the neighbourhood kids in the afternoons when he was free, and churned out stories..He spoke of the 'white man', the green fields that he had, his big family and the games they played when he was a kid. But in all his stories there was the unmistakeable love of the life he had led. The shadow of times when life held a meaning. True they had to work hard to make a living in those days. But life was a lot simpler he would say. And there was time to stop and savour it. To love and be loved in those days had a charm. The love-letter was in vogue and poetry abounded. There were things to write about you see, so many a maiden found herself compared to the flowers, the beautiful streams and what not. There was beauty in the country-side and the mood of the people reflected the land they had been born into. Sturdy and cheerful they were and forever helpful. There was hardly anyone you didn't know when you walked around your village. The bicycle was a prized possession. The t.v hadn't yet been born and the kids flocked to the one house which had a radio. Over tea and 'beedis' the local elders discussed the news they had heard and of the town 'far away'. And the kids listened to chatter until they were shooed away. Their games were simple. Cricket hadn't yet found its way here. The local gymkhana and martial arts were coveted. And for the kids there was seemingly endless land in which to play in. There was livestock in the houses and the lives of the inmates revolved around their land and animals. What, and when to sow was probably the biggest question they ever knew, followed by a look-out for the monsoons. The monsons oh, the life-vein of this land. There is something about that rain that captures the mind. Even after seeing it every year, you end up looking out onto the courtyard, down the lane and beyond, forever it seemed.There were strange diseases and dear ones lost to the struggle. But life as they knew it rolled on..There were big families,kids sprawled all over the place,cousins,friends,siblings-everyone was part of the throng. And the farmhouse was huge with an attic and cellar, and nooks and crannies where 'beasties lived'. There were big lamps and creaky stairs and the wood on the roof played patterns in the candlelight....Its been a life to remember..." he would say..

As I ended my 'day-dream' in the early hours of Jan 1 thanked the old man silently for his memories and prepared to sleep. Could I snatch a bit of that spice from the heydays. Would I be able to have a whiff of that aroma in the life that I own?......

I.I. of T-The first few days

2010-08-02T03:29:00.000-07:00

I have gone through the six steps needed for a selected aam admi to become an iitk-ian.And though there are no visible changes, no sudden gyan added, I have to admit, you get the feeling that you belong. Right from getting the email,through to the id card, the Director's address, the registration, bank account, the health check-up, the process gives you wings I think, without drinking a drop of Red-Bull. So much so that we had gals jumping up in the informal session and saying that they already felt part of the group. The Counselling service had done a fabulous job and except for the girls and few guys who came in the end and had to share rooms-ahem seperately, we are not into co-accomodation yet, as the Director took care to point out. Must say that the Director's address was one of the finest speeches I have heard.

After the whole orieentation program, we had talks with seniors. And that was when the real fun began. The unravelling of the mystery that surrounds the iit-behemoth. The goods and the bads were all discussed and finally all six of us-oh forgot to mention there are six of us in our gang, were of the opinion that this was a tough case to crack. We learnt that t stands for termination..and I have developed a strange kind of loathing for that word ever since. We finally decided that enough was enough and we could get ourselves a better grade than 6.5. Thats right, there are no five-point someones in iitk 'cos they are all sent back home. Moving on to other colourful things in life by which I dont mean the peacocks of which iitk has a good no., but to the girl brigade, I must say iitk is colourful. Having heard that iitk is a dry area, it is refreshing to know that there is nothing dry about it, be it the lush lawns or the girls of the insti. Both are equally good to look at, though the balance tips heavily to the latter. Theres amazing flexibility in the learning system be it the option for auditing(sitting in classes without attending exams-fun eh?) or electives for anything you want to take up.

All in all, its fun to sweat in a/c lecture halls. That happens when you can't make out a thing thats being said and some goof screams out answers from the back. The FOOD is a revealation in itself. You will notice that I have written it in capital letters. You will soon see why. Firstly to all the people of the North we just can't understand how you survive with all this potato in your bowels. I have lived in the North and have no aversion to aloo-see they have even named it sounding lovely; but I just can't get it how you manage to take it in such large quantities in every meal of the day and don't explode. I have become a walking gas chamber with a very precarious safety-valve. And thank God for the a/c in the class rooms. Today the Maths guy was teaching us relations-the math kind, and like the guy who found out Benzene in his semiconsciousness, I realised what I was going through. To sum it up in my words, verified and attested to by all six of us-"To sit with a stomach full of aloo is akin to being a nuclear reactor with the explosion in control. You can catch all the remaining neutrons and leave three to cause damage, and only when all the control rods are working properly. In a similar manner you can eat aloo and sit with dignity in class but only with the unnerving feeling that it could all go wrong in a minute." I slipped out of my reverie, happy with myself at having found a similie to the situation to find that the Math guy was teaching something called groups and writing english on the board that made no sense to me. That is the 'iit effect'-post symptoms include sweating in cold temperatures of 23degree C.

Moving on our hostel or Hall as we call it here, is said to resemble the ones in m.i.t. See Indo-U.S co-operation for this insti could have terminated a long time ago but that doesn't mean we can't still romance about it. Romancing apart, I had like to ask the m.i.t ians how they manage to shrink their 6 foot something bodies into these cramped rooms. The building is beautiful really but the rooms are kinda small. For instance there are rooms where you can't open the cup-board without lifting the cot. That said its a beautiful building,well-maintained and green all round with several shuttle courts,a gym,a recreation room.

Now for the finale word,the facilities-mind-boggling. It can best be described as a science guy's paradise. There's every sort of equipment and amazing freedom to do what you want. The faculty is brilliant and the infrastructure be it scientific or otherwise like sport complexes and well maintained grounds,amazing. More later on, 'cos as they say here-"use your time efficiently", and they mean every letter of what they say.

Wish

2010-07-10T03:01:00.000-07:00

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 12; the twelfth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

“I wish, I wish, with all my heart to fly with dragons, in a land apart”

(From Dragon Tales which I used to watch with my kid brother).

There is no particular reason as to why I wrote it up there,,except that whenever I think of 'wish' this line keeps running around in my brain. Now no particular reason has been found for this strange phenomenon and the only reason I can think of for an answer would be that it rhymes. The cartoon itself wasn't anything special, just an innocent show. Now to get going, there is no logical path in what is to follow, but order probably comes from a lot of chaos doesn’t it? Well now that all the serious stuff has been said, wishes are probably the most fun-kind of topics from all the fairy tales we have read. So I was sitting on the pot, for that is where there is all freedom for thought in this world, though not so much freedom for expression, wondering what do we wish for anyway? It got me embarked on an exciting journey to find out what people wished for in their lives. I asked quite a few and this is what I came up with:

1. Wealth
Many people among the diaspora asked, wanted it all in bling. They said, the more the better and that there is no happiness in this world without money. There are few things that money can’t buy they said, and being extremely ‘pragmatic’ they were willing to settle for the bigger number compared with mundane things like 'love'. As I recall, one was emphatic that all his troubles would cease to exist if Lady Luck gave him one billion dollars. And that was when the devil in me, raised his head.
Me: Ok Guy1 fast one. If you were to make a wish at this moment what would it be? Now this is not one of those forwards and you will not get any funny answer at the end of this. But this is for something am writing so being as honest as you can. And as serious as you can.

12:37 PM Guy1: 1 billion dollars$$$

Me:Ok you'll squander your wish for 1 billion dollars.Thats it? Nothing else?

12:38 PM Guy1: I didn’t get you dude.

Me: Ok you only need a billion dollars? At this moment were you going about your life dreaming about 1 billion dollars?

12:39 PM Guy1: Yaw man .That’s the ultimate aim:)Why?

12:40 PM By the way it’s not much. Only 4000 crore Rupees!!! :)Did I ask too much?

12:41 PM Me: No just was gonna remind you that you’d better come up with something to cut your wealth tax. Place some tight security around your house. Plus hire some C.A guys to do your accounts for all the unaccounted cash that you are getting. And 1 billion dollars is not easy to hide either. Remember Ramalinga Raju?

12:42 PM Me: So you better come up with something to do for the fat bundle of cash that’s gonna be dumped in your living room.

Guy1: Dude I’m not a crook, I want my billion to be neat white.

12:43 PM Me: Hey, God or whoever who’s gonna do this transaction is guaranteeing nothing. It is just gonna be dumped in your living room.

Guy1: Then I don’t want it in cash; I just want my assets to be worth 1 billion

12:44 PM Me: now that’s a lot t be wishing. Even Cinderella got her wish only for one night. And she’s the luckiest I’ve ever heard of.

Guy1: Man what’s this crap all about? Did u lose it all?:)

Me: Just wanted you to know to be careful what you wish for the next time.

There ended my conversation with Guy1 who was not sure whether he wanted his 1 billion Dollars now.

2. Satisfaction
Hmm...From the ‘pragmatic’ people we go to the yogi types who wanted satisfaction. Personally I just can’t fathom what it is that the real yogis want when they go and sit in the biting cold and ahem, look for ‘nirvana’. Well for one, why can’t they do it sitting here where normal people live? Now if they blame it on all the distractions in this world, I say, weren’t they supposed to be the ones with the ‘inner eye’ and concentration? Anyway the person who wanted satisfaction was far from a yogi, and he was as far away from the Himalayas as possible, in the hustle-bustle of Bangalore. Now I can understand this coming from a person in a mid-life crisis or someone with a lot of tension. But surprisingly Guy2 was neither. Well I can’t have it my way all the time and he was quite confident that a dash of satisfaction was all he would need. That got me thinking; this guy was clever. Well ‘cos satisfaction in your life was what people have been chasing for centuries and what hundreds of those yogis who bath nude in the Ganga each year, go into the biting cold and the harsh surroundings of the Himalayas searching. And that’s what my friend in his A/C cubicle in the Silicon Valley would be getting. Now that was a good deal except I didn’t think he would be far better off either. See, being satisfied has its draw-backs. Picturing his life another ten years down the road-same old car, same old house, and same old designation, with former colleagues as his superiors, not much of a problem since he is satisfied with his job, eh? Let’s look further, a disgruntled missus who now thinks she didn’t get the best deal. And so on, and so forth, ‘cos apparently being satisfied with one’s life isn’t enough, others surrounding us have to be satisfied as well. And the fairy doesn’t promise a full package.

3. Weird Requests
In this category, I have many. But only one worth mentioning:

See the future:
Here was someone who said that all she needed was the ability to see into the future and her life would be complete. And I agreed. Well at least I could remember from that Nicholas Cage movie where he manages to kill off his would-be attackers by just looking into the future. And while we were discussing about how wonderful this new gift was, a strange thought came ringing into my mind. If you were seeing your own future how is it that you are going to change it? If you change it in the present then it is no longer your future ain’t it? The reason was pretty simple-no one has ever been given the ability to change future, ’cos that’s God’s own power. I’ve heard that astrologers in India the seriously good ones and the famous ones who are now dead were in reality very good mathematicians-Vedic mathematicians to be precise. The art of astrology was in fact a science and has its base in pretty serious Math. That brings to my mind a story about one such astrologer of yesteryears. Apparently our man was lying on the floor looking at the stars and planets, performing calculations. His wife interrupted him and asked him to go have his meal. After the meal she laid out a slightly raised platform with a mat for him so that he could take some rest after the meal. She was gone for some time and returned to find him highly agitated. He was pacing up and down, muttering to himself. He told her that he could not get his calculations right anymore. After much searching it turned out that the culprit was the slightly raised platform. In itself not more than a foot off the ground, it changed calculations which were of the order of several billions. Such was the precision of our astrologers and they themselves claim that it is a probabilistic approach-never perfect. Now to have that kind of power in your hand is one thing and to meddle with it? “That is best left to God”, I told her, “remember Bruce Almighty?” And to know the future and not being able to change is like knowing you are going to ram into a ten-ton lorry as you are driving along peacefully and knowing you can do nothing to change it. That’s why most people want to stay away from knowing their future; so as to not hear impending bad news and then having to live with it knowing it's going to strike you soon enough. It's like the Midas Touch, you ask for it and then you slowly realise that you were much better off without it.

That brought me to one question that was ringing in my mind ever since I started questioning these people. What would I want, I who have shamelessly trodden on their wishes? Too late, I remember-

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
-W.B. Yeats(He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven)

Now for the world to question; I wouldn’t want all the riches in heaven, nor satisfaction, nor to look at the future. All I wanted ever since I thought about it, is to hear the roar of a particular jet-engine,nothing more, nothing less. So it is that I have waited long to see my room filled with bright light and fairies to appear, but all it gets filled up with is moonlight and shadows of the mahagony tree outside my window. I realise that the fairies of this world have taken a holiday, and the well in my backyard doesn’t throw up anything either. Just gobbles up all the coins you throw into it. All I am left with are my dreams and the satisfying feeling that no one can rob me of them...

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NO HEAVEN FOR TULIO!

2010-06-18T02:10:00.000-07:00

The one-horse town of Chikkulli in South India had nothing much to speak for itself.It was just a matter of dusty lanes and a few streets into which were crammed the few shops selling house-hold amenities, and well, the usual stuff.Apart from this the town had an old temple on the outskirts and an equally rambling church.The people were mostly tradesmen and farmers with lands in the outskirts of the town.The main street of the town held the shop of the jeweller Krishna-an old, stooping man whose otherwise dull eyes lit up on seeing the yellow metal..The greed in his eyes notwithstanding, the folk of the town had no options but to buy or sell gold at his place.Then there was the grocer's-the grocer Raju was a kind man with twinkling eyes,who often gifted kids chocolates.And then there was the baker's-THE BAKER-an old shop.No one knew how long it had been there.It was as if it had always been there.And everyone bought their bread from there..It was run by Xavier-the baker,and it had always belonged to his family.The Garcias as they were called were probably the first to have stepped off the boat that arrived first from Portugal, 'cos everyone in the town remembered a Garcia in their time.And bake they all did, unparalleled in taste in all these years.They had carried their trade over the seas, and had mixed with the people of this land.And had stayed back like many others, long after the last of the Portuguese had left these shores.Xavier Garcia and his wife Martha were affable folks and they ran a roaring trade, and were quite well-off.

Now,they had a son named Tulio.A strapping young lad,he attended St.Angus school where the people of the town sent their kids.Tulio was eight,with blue eyes-his mother's and long straight hair which he inherited from Dad.It was evening and he was out playing with his friends-Kishore,Arjun,Asif,Ramya,Divya and his cousin Fernando.They had many games to pick from.Sometimes it would be marbles,otherwise hide-and-seek,or driving with cycle tyres.Today it was those tyres..Tulio liked them the most.You had to hit the wobbly tyres with a stick and make them run,balance them and do lots of tricks with them.It was fun to make the tyres jump over sticks placed as obstacles and of course to be the fastest to go around their houses.They were playing thus and Tulio was turning the last corner with the others in hot pursuit when it happened.A car had taken a sharp turn and overran a cat.Tulio looked at the furry creature as it lay spread out on the road.He had seen it before..But where?His question was answered soon enough..

"Oh!!my Taffy!!Oh!not you!!..no..no..."He turned to his side to see Kishore running like mad to the dead cat.And then it came rushing back to him,Kishore's Taffy,a sweet little thing it was,always playing around in his courtyard.They would give it a paper ball and watch as it played with it and then it would come purring back to them exhausted.Then Kishore would give it some milk in a saucer and they would watch as Taffy lapped it up hungrily.But all that was over,Taffy was dead.They finally helped the inconsolable Kishore carry the dead cat back on a piece of card-board.The cat was buried in Kishore's backyard.No one felt like playing anymore and they walked to Raju anna's(elder brother's) grocery store.Raju was good at stories or solving fights which broke out between them, and the children liked him.Raju was dealing with some customers and they waited till he was done.

"What happened to you lot?Fighting again?"Raju asked.
"No anna Kishore's cat got run over by a car"Asif replied, and he explained the incident.
"Oh Iam so sorry to hear that.I know u loved that cat Kishore.Come sit down all of you."They sat where they could find space."You know...you couldn't have stopped it from happening.In life you lose certain things you love.Maybe one day you will have a stray cat wander into your courtyard Kishore, that needs looking after and you could love it just like you did Taffy..But you will have to wait for that o.k?"Raju said kindly."Now you must have these new chocolates which have come today"And he handed each one of them a chocolate each.
"Raju anna where do we go when we die?"asked Tulio
"Well if we are good then we go to heaven dont we?"
"And Taffy?Will he go to heaven too?"
"Taffy?no.He wouldn't go to heaven dear"Raju said."But he will be safe wherever he is don't you worry"he added 'cos he knew the children were upset."Now off you go while I check my register".

They went to their homes.And Tulio couldn't stop thinking about it.He had a pet dog-Waffles and he was really fond of him..He couldn't bear to think that one day he would be seperated from Waffles.He would probably be going to dog-heaven and I would have to go to our heaven.Why does it have to be that way?He would have to ask mom more about this.She would know more..

"Mom will Waffles go to dog-heaven when he dies?"
"Yes dear"she wanted him to be happy.
"But wont that mean he will be seperated from me?"Now she hadnt expected this."Well he'll be happy where he is dear".
"Mom when you die and go to heaven you will be waiting there for me right?"
"Now why all this talk on dying?Be good and we will all go to heaven.Now come on I have made some hot chocolate for you".
Tulio was silent as he sipped his hot chocolate and watched his mom sew up two holes he had made in his trousers while playing the other day.He had torn them while climbing up the guava tree to play 'pirates'.Divya,Arjun and him had been part of a pirate gang and they had taken Fernando prisoner and tied him to the tree.Then it was upto the others to come rescue their man.They had a great game and his team had been victorious and had 'sunk' Fernando's team on the slope nearby with mud-bombs from up the tree...He loved his friends dearly and it pained him to think that they could be seperated from him..He should ask them to be extra good so that they could meet up in heaven,especially Arjun, who had a knack of carving big fat lies out of nothing.Only the other day he had told them hadn't he?, that he had seen a buffallo with big white spots wading in the village-pond.And they had all run helter-skelter to find that there was no buffallo, just the village priest who had come to take a bath.And he had shooed them away, afraid that they might hide his clothes like they had done the day before..How they had run!But Arjun was quite good at heart really..Didn't he dig up the 'grave' for poor Taffy all by himself?Still I should ask them to be extra careful...

"Mom when I die and go to heaven will I be a big man?"
"Well you will have to grow old and die wouldnt you?So yes I think you will be a big man.Now enough of this Tulio,or you are not going to get any more cream buns.Remember all you have to do is be good and God will take care of you".
Tulio liked his cream buns and didnt want to make his mom angry.So he stopped asking her.But it didnt stop thinking about it as the evening grew.Mom would grow old and die and so would I.And we would meet in heaven as big people.Now what fun would that be?He didnt want his mom to grow older.He didnt want to meet her like that in heaven.He just wanted his mom to be the way she was now and he, Tulio, would want to be the same too..He thought about the others..Kishore,Ramya,Fernando..No way, it wouldnt be fun at all if they were older in heaven..How could they play at pirates then?Old people never played at pirates..The time came for the evening prayer, and while he prayed Tulio was lost in thought.He made up his mind."God"he prayed"I dont want to come to heaven.I just want Waffles,Mom,Dad,Kishore,Arjun and all just the way they are.I know that You want me to come to heaven and I don't want You to be angry with me..I'll be a good boy here".He opened his eyes and looked at the figures of Jesus and Mother Mary in the small alcove.Shadows danced on their faces with the flickering of candles in the alcove.

Tulio went to bed that night thinking he had finally solved the issue..Meanwhile in heaven there was a whole lot going on.For in all his time God had never got as strange a request as Tulio's.There were all sorts of requests coming by the channel now-"help me God for my interview..dont let the boss fire me!..I will never be a bad boy again God,but please let there not be any surprise tests today..God please don't let mom notice the broken table..I know it lies dead-centre in the room but pleeease let her think it was someone or something else.."And God solved each one with a flourish which only, well, He could manage.. But Tulio's request hung at the back of His mind.Ah...well,He would have to do it then...

Tulio dreamt a very strange dream that night..But suddenly the dream was cut short when he was well getting to be the hero,by a sudden flickering of light..he dreamt on..Shortly the flickering stopped and there was a pleasant white light..He was walking along a road with a lot of other people and they were queueing up at a great golden gate..and on it were the letters...HEAVEN..
"Oh no!!am already dead!!I can't see Mom and Dad again!!..Oh no.."poor Tulio broke out into sobs.
"Oh no you aren't!"He looked up to see St.Peter at the gate..
"So where am I?"
"Well you are at the gates of Heaven arent you,my boy!"boomed Peter"but you are not dead yet..you asked for something didn't you?So God thought He might throw you a little surprise and show you heaven.."
Tulio looked at St.Peter.He looked wise and old, but a little tired it seemed.Presently someone came upto him dressed in white robes and started talking to him.
"Well..well Peter the line is a bit long today eh?Thought I might give you a bit of company..Good Lord! wasn't the party yesterday just wonderful!..You were there weren't you?"
"Who me?No I was at the gate the whole time..they are dying in droves nowadays..Don't even get time to take a short nap..and don't even mention the party..I must ask God to give me a partner..But you see, people expect to see me here and if they don't, they'll think that they are getting tricked..So I dont know how am gonna attend any of those parties.."Tulio felt sad for poor Peter.."Oh gosh!you are still standing here Tulio!o.k here change into these white robes, and up the path you will meet St.Gabriel the angel..Know him don't you?He will show you around, and around afternoon God will see you..Now off you go!!"And off he went in his new white robes,and met Gabriel.He was just like Tulio knew him, all in white with a handsome face and pearly-white wings.
"Hello St.Gabriel!How do you do?And does everyone wear white around here?"
"Iam fine dear Tulio..and yes everyone wears white 'cos thats the official colour of heaven isn't it?!And we don't seem to get it dirty so its always pearly white.Now come on I have quite some things to show you."And off they flew with Tulio holding Gabriel's hand right to a party set in a rolling meadow..People were singing and dancing.They were all dressed in white and they all looked young.Infact Tulio couldn't figure out how old they were.Neither childish nor oldish..kind of in the middle..a fresh young kind.And men were strumming on the harps and some were playing the banjo and there was a wild jig on the dance floor.The men and women looked really happy and there was plenty of nice-looking food on the tables.
"So what do they do after the parties?..Do they go to work?"asked Tulio.
"No! theres no work here, its heaven remember?..We have parties and then sometimes God comes along and He speaks to His people..Boy does He have a way with His stories!..Has everyone in splits..And sometimes we have bonfire nights.."Gabriel explained.
Wow that must be some life..He remembered the New Year party which had gone on and on..'twas great fun..He had danced with Emilia, his cousin..But a little after midnight, we both felt so drowsy..and in the morning my bones ached..Must be different in heaven if they were to party and have fun all the time.Have fun all the time?Where had he heard that before?Ah yes..that was when Mr.Swamynathan his science teacher had thundered.."All play and no work makes Jack a dull boy..So now even though you have had P.T and had lots of fun,you must rest your minds a little and get set to understand how the Earth moves around the Sun.."The children like Mr.Swamy,even though he was a bit strict..He was a sport and didn't he take them all to the village pond and teach them how to catch fish?And he had shown them how they breathe too..

"Now we most get going"said Gabriel and of they flew to a valley with a beautiful lake.There were people on the banks and wild flowers grew there.Some people were in the lake on boats and the water was as still as glass.."Go on, taste the water,it would be the sweetest you had have ever tasted.And run around and play if you like for sometime.We do have sometime before we go to meet God."Gabriel said.
Tulio scooped up a palmful of water and drank..It was indeed very sweet..He ran along the bank with the water lapping his feet.There were couples along the bank with their feet stretched into the water and some were making wonderful patterns with the grass growing along the banks..Some were playing with the water..Tulio joined them and they had great fun splashing water onto each other..It made his robes wet however and he decided to sit for sometime on the bank to get his white robe dry..He would have to ask Gabriel for another set of robes..And he wondered if he could get another one..He liked this place, but at the back of his mind he felt something missing.Waffles-he wouldn't be able to bring him here,and how he liked the village pond!He would tear up the banks and roll on the grass like crazy..It would scratch him more and he loved swishing his tail this way and that on the grass..And the children took him to the pond whenever they went..He could swim well too and would shower them all with pond-water when he shook himself dry..Now he felt really sad,Waffles would have loved this place and he would have loved it too, with Waffles and the others.
"Come we must be going..We have to meet God.He is every where, but He said He'll meet you at the Palace."Gabriel said.So they flew to the palace.When they came to the palace,Tulio was surprised to see saints scurrying to and fro the steps carrying huge bundles of papers with them.
"What are they doing?"asked Tulio.
"Those bundles they are carrying are the prayers that people send through the saints.You see, God has this huge channel by which people can get in touch with him personally,but people doubt their own closeness with God and rely on the saints.So it is that the saints have to work non-stop even after coming here,whereas the work they do is what God is ever-willing to do all by Himself.Increases a lot of paper-work but people just don't understand you see".
They entered a big hall and Tulio could see God in all His glory seated on the throne.He knelt on the floor and bowed low.
"Arise my son..but, I see you still don't like the place eh?"God said smiling.Of course Tulio didnt need to say a word,God knew exactly how he felt.
"God you know how I feel.I liked a lot of things about heaven,but it just isn't the same as what Iam getting in Earth now.True there are sad times.But when Iam happy with my friends and family,..its like we are with You in heaven..so please, could I please have it that way?"
God was silent for sometime and Tulio could feel his heart thudding away.At last he spoke..
"You know....what you said is right from your heart and it is pure and innocent..So I couldn't agree more dear Tulio."So saying God scribbled on his note-pad and it read something like this"NO HEAVEN FOR TULIO..NOT THIS ONE ANYWAY!"
"Iam your God and if you keep your promise on being good, then you will have what your heart desires"."Now off you go, you have a busy day tomorrow"said God smiling at Tulio.
Tulio remembered His parting words...And woke up the next day to his mom's call.
"Tulio!!get up..get ready for school.."He wondered whether it was all a dream.Pulling himself out of his blankets, he decided that he would keep his end of the bargain and dream or no dream, God would keep His.
"Coming mom!!"Where is the tooth-paste now?!!"...

ps:@Sundeep..thanks a lot dude..u were the one who got me started on story writing.
@Sapphire...if it wasnt for your thoughts on after-life i would not hav got hooked onto this one..thank you..

Munnar...Re-birth,desi-goats and some firangi(foreign) cows!!!

2010-06-09T15:39:00.000-07:00

The title is not part of a jumbled-up list,no no no..thats what my 9th std. trip was, an lots more..My friend Sundeep went trekking and his account stirred up memories of this one...Munnar is a hill-station in the Western Ghats,falling in Kerala..Known for its wild beauty and lush tea-plantations,it is a must-see in the tourist map of Kerala..

The trip was a 2 or 3 day one..i dont remember..We set off from school in high spirits and it was singing and dancing in the bus right from the start...its fun dancing in a bus..the bus' swinging this way and that and very little space..50 odd guys dancing-or trying to dance, and the bus driver's heroics make it even more exciting...the lads were spirited and we sang our voices hoarse...i wonder which made more noise-the bus's air-horn or our singing?anyway we stopped for breakfast which we found had been meticulously packed by our mess-chettans(brothers)...it was bread and some gram curry..but for 70 hungry guys..twas more than enough..back on the bus we continued with our singing and our mimickry..thats right-we imitated every one of our teachers and brought up hilarious accounts ..and all of this loud and clear on a microphone..whoever thought of keeping a mike in that bus was brilliant..but wait-i havent introduced everyone in the 2 buses..my mistake..there were 2 teachers accompanying us-Mr.TM(art) and Mr.P(geography).'twud be a good idea to describe these 2 guys as they couldnt be farther apart in profile as the closer they sat in adjacent seats...TM was a young,jovial guy who was relatively new to the school..he had a penchant for art and he often had a dreamy look to him..and his class resembled that of Harry-Potter's when the pixies had finished with it in 1st year..Mr.P on the other hand was relatively old but with a young heart it seemed(someone told me he used to be a hockey player and it showed),had an everliving love-story with geography..true,I have never met a more spirited geography teacher..and he had the wisdom of age wrapped into the many wrinkles on his fore-head..why am i describing these gentlemen in detail?you will see..so it was with the old and the new and our adoloscent hearts that we headed to munnar..

We had dinner at Basil's place where his mom (bless her!) had prepared chapatti and chicken curry for all of us..so it was that in the dead of the night we reached munnar and our lodgings at Bethany Retreat Centre..there followed an exciting game with the mattresses which were provided, which was brought to a halt with a very irate fellow tourist and the lodge-keepers..I woke up very early the next morning to try my luck at the only 2 bathrooms in the dorm..and found that i wasnt the only one who thought so..the guys who came out gave repeated warnings that the water was very cold..i decided to bath anyway..and i poured the first mug of water and two or three in quick succession to beat the cold..twas only then that i stopped to feel the cold..I swear I couldnt feel many parts of my body!!The WATER WAS FREEZING COLD!!...I WONDERED WHY IT WASNT ALREADY ICE..many vital parts of my body already were..i worried for my future generation and for myself..it was the only time apart from that one time again in ooty that i had a 'near-numb bath' as i call it..After breakfast,we found out that there were 3 spots to see-the Eravikulam National Park,The Tata Tea-Estate and the Swiss Diary Farm...

We headed to Eravikulam home to the Nilgiri Tahr,which is a kind of mountain-goat,very nimble and it can climb up some of the steep rocky faces in the Western Ghats..we had to walk up the hill which is part of the park to see the goat..about halfway up was a waterfall and the road passes over a bridge with the water continuing down thr rocky slope undreneath,down below to the town of munnar....the sight is beautiful as you can stand on the bridge and watch the water as it falls down the slope infront of you and pass below..I surfed and found a pic from a blog which am quite sure is the spot..

As we were watching one among us who was from a hilly region decided that he wanted to climb up the slopes.Before anyone had any time to react he was clambering up..then it was monkey-syndrome and everyone was climbing..all this while Mr.P full of wisdom was unaware of the situation and by the time he noticed the commotion,it was too late..on the other hand TM lover of art and full of youth didnt see anything dangerous in our exhuberance...I could see all the wisdom pouring out of Mr.P's wrinkles and him asking us to get down but to no avail..TM meanwhile was still drinking in the scenery..I dont wish to blame either one of them in the slightest for what happened;it all happened so fast..Meanwhile I having seen the boys in action on the slippery slope had hung back..but heck who misses out on a chance to create history..these guys were probably going to conquer the water-fall and i was not one to miss out on the action..So I, taking leave of my good senses, started climbing up the rocks..It was only then i realised, that the rocks were wet and slippery to the nth degree..years of water flowing over them and the moss on them had left very few and dangerous foot-holds..why so dangerous?'cos the water flows under the bridge and down the rocky face to the town of munnar way,way below...and we were all climbing up in such a manner that we had to catch each other to keep ourselves from slipping very often..and one imbalance could have sent not only me but several others around me all the way down with not a thing to hold on to..the damn bridge also didnt have a centre pillar..it was small anyway..by now a guide had arrived on the scene and was shouting his lungs out at us.."its damn dangerous what you are doing and also this is the water which the wholle town drinks!!"We had conquered the waterfall all of us and hurrahed in unison on our 'achievement'.All this while I had felt my B.P grow as i kept moving my arms to maintain my balance..the veins on Mr.P's temple had grown to bursting point and he was asking us repeatedly to get down..TM too had woken up from his siesta and he was gesturing wildly to us..I started praying,pleading to God to save me..and my mind made a collective request to all the saints I knew..I looked down and saw the whole town beneath and imagined the after-life..We started the descent ..more horror..i discovered that Newton's Gravitational force which till now had helped me to stay on Mother Earth was now doing its max to take me away from her..I still remember the terror in my mind with every step that i took and the near-slips and the slips,how i hung on to anything in reach-human or rock..and the frequency of my prayers?Iam just happy that God's network doesnt get jammed like the insti's site when results are announced or online tatkal booking at 8am..Let me repeat-'its damn harder to climb down a slippery slope than climbing up'.When i got back down I felt God had given me a second life..in continuation with the first one that is...I felt like Gautham Budhha and Mahavira on enlightment day minus the extra knowledge..so happy to be still there..that was REBIRTH...Meanwhile Mr.P and TM looked highly relieved that they could hang a photo of us all at graduation day and not one with a garland on it when they got back home..

am sorry that this has to be such a long post,but this story is best told in one sitting..we reached the top of the hillock and the people there told us that we had just missed the goats by about 10 min..and that they had moved onto the other face of the neighbouring hillock...disappointment crept into the ranks..but the very same guy who was the villian in the waterfall episode was not to be undone by this news..apparently crashing through thick bushes and creepers and what-not was second nature to him..so off he went and we followed for all of us knew that it was the only way we could see this elusive creature..this wonder of wonders which climbs up steep rocky faces with no ropes..i wondered what could possibly go wrong here,after all there werent any slippery rocks here..so off i went ..and lo an behold there lay a group of goats on the neighbouring slope..beautiful,sturdy creatures they were..i tell you the way we greeted those goats people would have thought celebs were parajumping on the opposite slope..we were so glad we could see them after the long trek up the hill..we got bacck and that was when the trouble began..almost all of us had leeches sucking in our shoes,pants..and there ensued a mini-panic trying to get them off...and few of us yours truly were anxious 'cos we couldnt find any on our person..so it is not enough that you are not bitten by leeches but now we had to be absolutely sure they werent hiding and sucking our blood!!but all in all if it was not for that jungli amidst us i wouldnt have experienced rebirth,nor seen the GOATS..guess we hav to thank you Rupesh and gang from wayanad..

Now a final word-even though munnar is in India,the weather is from U.K..more often than not its wet and cold..with a perennial drizzle..so it was that by the time we reached the Swiss Farm at Matupetty(called so because the cows and not the people there, are from Switzerland),we were wet from the rain..and rushed indoors to the cow-shed..twas all the same except the FIRANGI COWS were fatter than our normal Indian ones and apparently gave more milk too..there is a system in place to clean the cow-sheds and the cows and to feed them...but cmon they are cows and who can blame them if they feel like peeing all the time,with the weather urging them on?so it was that the place reeked and we were happy to rush through the place and i noted that they had given the cows their original firangi names and kind of nice names too..

We enjoyed the bus-ride on our way back to school.And we went our seperate ways a lot later,but the memories of that trip and other incidents in my school-life will remain with me forever...

The Gr8 Indian Admission Rat-Race!!

2010-05-29T07:49:00.000-07:00

As i write this i've completed "The Gr8 Indian Journey" which every1 in my rank prof for GATE has had to take..It began with Kanpur,through to Mumbai,and then on to Delhi and finally back home,in the process skipping Kharagpur too.so it is with a lot of heartache,sunburn,fond and not-so-fond memories that you have sent me back home,my countrymen-and women!!

Firstly, thanks to the present Railwy admin we never got a single 3AC ticket throughout the entire journey..One might ask wat has the admin got t do with it..For 1 thing its a blatant and open fact that the admin is hand-in-hand with agents and u never get t c an Available seat for 2-3 months flat..its alwys waitin list t the tune of 100 or more..u might say its due t the vacation season,but the scene gets uglier in the tatkal queues..agents are alwys 1st in the queue or their cronies are..and they even get their tickets going inside the counter-room..its a fact that in N.India..u wont get a tatkal ticket by standin in the queue...So while the aam-admi gets it up his rear tickets are sold for double-price even!..shd say the scene ws better with Laloo..mamata's durantos too re useless..v call them durantam(disaster) down south..so much for railwys..

Part 1 : Kanpur..shd say love the iit but hate the city..has t be 1 of the worst cities i've ever been to..more of a dump than a city..but the iit..beauty!!!every bit of it..loved the infrastructure n plannin..but boy oh boy didnt v get the treatment in the interview..t sum it up..i understood that u dont need knives t inflict pain..giv him an iitk interview anyday!!but it feels gr8 t be selected...

Part 2:Mumbai...on an overnight flight t beat the iit strategists at their game in mumbai,i found that 70% of the ppl in the flight were goin for the same thing..u c iits this yr hav scheduled their admission process so tht the aam-admi wont make it to more than 1 or max 2 iits t try his luck..in mumbai i found out tht this yr its heavy competition even for aero which isnt given the sort of attn. it got at iitb..over a 100 ppl turned up for 19 odd seats..apart from the admission process i ws there cos i wanted t tour mumbai 2..so it ws with renewed vigour tht i set out the nxt mornin frm my uncle's place..tried out the metro all along 1 length of it..LLLLLLLLLovveddddddd it!!!!!!i loved the crowd..the fact tht u dont hav t do anythin..u jus stand still n they push u inside an they push u bac outside..neat eh!!u'll never get this much of personalised attn in the delhi metro..i like the spirit of the ppl in mumbai..their lifes hectic..every1 alwys near-runnin..yet they ALWYS find time t sing and pray on the metro..i hav t giv it t u mumbaikars..for
1.the way u enjoy ur metro journey swingin by 1 hand at the door
2.they way u guys sing and pray noisily in the evenings.
3.going thro the same process again an again n still doin it..
BUT like evrythin it has its downside too..i ws once standin near the doorway n cos it ws not my stop i started t go inside..there ws this guy in his late 30s who gives me such a stare as if he ws the don of mumbai..twas as if i ws pullin his balls with me as i started to go inside..i bein the cool guy i ws of course whistled at his face n continued..tho must say..too much reaction for nothin!!i heard that this kinda thing happens a lot-ppl get really angry if ure standin in the wrong queue t get dwn frm the train..Arey!!itna tension kai ko lene ka?..no one is going to prevent u frm gettin down n if v want t move aside n let u get dwn u shd b happier na??seedhi baat no bakwas!!there is mumbai left t b explored but all-in-all i kinda like the place..

part3:delhi..the delhi iit is much better than iitb in terms of looks n the city is cleaner too i guess..the delhi metro is cool but it lacks the spirit of the mumbai 1..the city i cldnt explore that much due t the heat,but frm wat i saw of it twas o.k..the ppl,the youth-brigade re quite cool..n the gudis of delhi impressed me...but i left delhi with lots more left t explore..i badly,badly wantd t go t noida but cldnt..n i really wantd t c the night-life properly in these 2 cities..but thats for another time i guess..

The 'Right Dress'...

2010-05-06T01:34:00.000-07:00

Well for all those unfortunate ppl who wrote GATE this time..urs truly included,it is interview time...and as soon as i got my interview call for kanpur,my mind well....did not focus on studies,rather on the all-important question on what to wear.So it was that with a bride's vigour for a wedding gown,i ramshackled the cupboard for the 'right dress'.speaking of the 'right dress' its time to move backwards to my third year in college..
There was this college-placement-cell-evaluation committee which was visiting our college.Together with speaking to the students about the facilities,and making notes about the college,the committee would also be conducting interviews of selected candidates from each branch to test the quality of training imparted by our CCR(placement)department.Now this was an opportunity to bunk classes and i didnt let it pass..So it was that i found myself waiting for my turn to get interviewed..There were two guys interviewing and we soon found out that one was asking only technical and the other only HR questions..Now i being the true-blooded engineer that Iam(cough),i couldnt think of taking an HR interview when there was a technical one going on..I like challenges u see,case in point-my college-bunk episode..but more on that later...so my turn came and I wished the guy and took my seat..the next 2-3minutes was SILENCE..the guy wouldnt look at me..he just started leafing through papers lying on his desk..I wasnt perturbed,remembering the Golden rule-"never speak until spoken to and never more than what is necessary"...finally feeling contended that all his papers were safe,he looked at me and asked me to introduce myself.I gave a short introduction.He clears his throat"Is this the way to dress for an interview?"I had worn a light-blue half-sleeved shirt with tiny white dots that can be described as nothing but formal..no flashy colours..no bizzare designs..'twud have a brought a smile on the clergyman back home if i had worn it to Church..Next to uniform-crazy martinets the clergymen are the most difficult tribe on this planet...anything flashy and they look at you as if you were something the dog brought home..and iam pretty sure my light-blue shirt would have won his respect anyday..To couple this i had worn my steel-grey trousers and all of this neatly pressed the very same morning....when a hostel-guy goes to this much of trouble for a pseudo-interview you should get the idea that i stop at nothing when it comes to dressing well...So i couldnt believe my ears when i heard him say that..let me take a break here by giving a pic of him-guy in late fifties..greying hair,short..thats about it..Now when i heard him say this my brain and spinal cord were in a nervous-frenzy..not nervous mind you-but full of nerval activity..why?cos this was the kind of behaviour exhibited by certain profs..the ones who hate their lives and want others to hate theirs too,think that though the laws of science were made by some brilliant dude,they have the right to ammend them at will-hence the concept of "the right answer" (according to them)..more on the wonderful qualities of the prof-bitches later on..
My brain was spot-on with its verdict"tread carefully"..So i countered"sir, i selected a good clean shirt with a fairly o.k colour and a matching pair of trousers which i thought were suitable for an interview".
"you think you can wear a half-sleeved shirt and look, it looks like you wear it to a party".
i wondered whether this old fool had ever been invited to a party...i decided that it was best to keep silent..after having had several opportunities to face prof-bitches i knew what to do..He then proceeded to comment on my poor grades in my first sem..and having 'tsk...tsked..'a couple of times asked me a few basic questions in the subject,which i answered..after all THAT was what i had come for right?
in the end he asked me if i wanted to ask him anything..i asked him about his background..he waves his arms..
"i passed out from iit delhi with a b.tech in electronics..and i was then employed by (some gov.company)..i worked my way to be(some top designation i dont remember now)..and i left it..i was consulted later by many companies..the blah-blah company here once came to me to check out a site for a future plant.i studied the survey and checked out the site and passed my verdict that it would be a total loss if they started it there..they didnt listen to me an got the plant okayed and then later it became a huge failure and then they came to me asking me what could be done.i said nothing can be done,close it and you can only start an i.t company there."(from where did he get the idea of an i.t co.??he was supposed to be giving info for an electrical firm..wonder how i.t got into the scheme of things even if the former was not feasible??")
i bit my lips to prevent myself from laughing out aloud..this self-conceited jerk was making an idiot of himself..i was certainly enjoying the show now..but he stopped at that(sigh)..twas time for me to get out..which i did without further ado..
you might think that that was it..but the best part of the revealation was about to happen..we were having lunch in the mess when 1 of my classmates discusses the whole issue..i asked him how it had gone for him..he said that it had gone quite o.k for him..he had also been to the same guy and it turns out he had quite a nice time with the old guy..i couldnt believe my ears for the second time that day...i narrated my bizzare interview story..after hearing me the guy starts laughing"hoho...thats not surprising...that guy was an iyengar(tamil brahmin) and iam an iyengar"..now what the heck has that got to do with my story??
"you see you are not an iyengar"..
"huh?what has that got to do with my blue shirt..?"(apparently the amount of criticsm my blue shirt recieved was still not forgotten)
"hehe..your blue shirt has got nothing to do with anything at all..you see iyengars when they are young are o.k but when they grow old turn into irritating people(hmm..must remember this in the future..i remebered caterpillars metamorphosise into butterflies...but wasnt that from something ugly to something beautiful?maybe nature decided to do the opposite with the iyengar....i read that nature has a way of balancing things..maybe this is it..)
"so that was why he was so rude?"
"must have seen that you are not an iyengar....even hindus who are not iyengars get the treatment....i know because i have seen it at family get-togethers..the older ones are always grumpy..even i will be like them some day..."
i looked at my friend..he looked quite o.k to me...cheerful...it felt quite weird to think that my friend would turn into a grumpy old iyengar....maybe all iyengars are not like that..maybe nature leaves some of them to be normal people to show us the change that could have been.....maybe my friend would stay the same...
thinking back i remembered the lines from "my name is khan"-"there are just good people and bad people and nothing else".
(P.S. iam not racist..and have nothing against iyengars..but i will not rest my quill if such characters take it upon themselves to give us all a laugh).
anyways that was a long post..end of story i have just got my new pair of trousers from the tailor's and they fit perfectly....

WAIST-LINE ISSUES...

2010-05-03T11:57:00.000-07:00

For all the ppl who don't know me..Iam someone who wants to "live by the second"..the rest u will get to know when u read the blog..As of this moment,am livin in the aftermath of yet another exam..GATE..what else..now if there are some things which the competitive exams in this country have in common..they are the unbearable tension both before,after and during the exam..and the aftermath..every single one of them leaves you with sneering aunties and uncles,disgruntled parents-if you belong to my category that is..and a sense of hollowness in the head..but what really gets ur nerves is when u look in the mirror..at first u think u are looking into a parabolic mirror..i know the feeling..the college had one..was at a junction in the campus..kinda stupid really..the mirror was supposed to help drivers see vehicles coming from the other side..tho it was so confusing that u had stare at it for quite sometime before u knew which direction the image was coming from..so fat lot of good it did to the drivers..anyways coming back to the mirror..the one in my room is not parabolic...it was jus that my tummy had opted for a new look..funny how i hadn't noticed it durin exam time..well i guess then my mind was too busy with the equations to noticin the new curve my tummy was taking..anyways post-exam it reveals itself..a sort of invinsible monster..i was not one to take things lyin down...and i decided to combat this one with the old school-routine..running my lungs out..such was the vigour in the activity that months One and Two passed in a frenzy...of course there were days when there was no running ..but who would let such trifle happenings spoil the big picture...month Three brought with it the results and the monsoon...the results you can talk about anytime, but the monsoon?-ah! that is altogether a different thing...they say the monsoon changes everything..the fields once dry brown cakes suddenly turn into swimming pools and hot fishing spots..why, the other day me and my cousin went to the water-logged field and we played-well i don't know what anyone calls it..but all it involves is skipping stones on the water..fine game that one..u select flat stones and u throw them so that they skip over the water..and u see who throws the longest with the maximum no. of jumps..well like i said, the monsoon changed everything,even the dry plants on my balcony...and together with that,my running routine..then put in the equation my results and running was given a pass..so it was that the interview dates were announced and I decided to try on my old pair of trousers to see which ones I could take..needless to say it wasn't that difficult..there were only 2 pairs which would actually fit me...so it was that i took the new cloth i bought to the tailor's nearby..for someone who has lived the past 8 yrs with the same waistline..it came as a near mortal shock to hear the tailor announce a 2 inch jump...i knew i was overweight..but this!!?now for most of you this would hardly seem out-of-the-ordinary..not for me though..there were times-whole years when i would eat like a pig just to put on some weight,in these 8 yrs..and my body showed no signs of yielding...i had concluded that it was the work of genes which some anscestor(God save him) had passed on and resigned myself to the thought that no amount of eating could change me..now consider the confounding fact that the tailor announced and you can sense my disbelief..and the glaring reality that running my lungs out hadn't changed it..infact GATE has done what time and eating could not...well now that it has been proved without doubt to me,let me share this-eating doesn't increase weight but sitting in the same position for hours does..in short, inaction for 5 months has achieved what action couldn't in eight years....