Melodies From Another World

They sat by the side of bustling lanes,
A wooden lute they wielded with ease,
The eager tourists walked past the lilting strains,
But the languid traveller was easy to please.
Blind to their audience, they crooned in a local dialect,
Of the universal feelings of loss and neglect.

The clink of coins rewarded them many a time,
For sharing their sorrow in verse and rhyme.
They bared their souls in an alien tongue,
But after all it was the language of love they sung.

The flaming glow of the setting sun lit up the winter sky,
But the two men sang on with a fiery passion,
Like a bird that had discovered it could fly;
Denied of sight, music had given them vision.

North East Part 2

We reached Gangtok around 8PM and our lodging was Maple Residency, a brand new hotel with good interiors. We got to meet the tour operator Mr Roshan who briefed us on what was in store for us next. The next morning we set off towards Nathu La with all our warm clothes bundled together  for further use. We received the permit on the way and began another journey through the mountains. This time, the gradual change in scenery was evident; from lush green mountains dotted with waterfalls, the landscape morphed into a dry and sparsely vegetative land with mounds of ice lying in heaps. The air was chilly and it continued to drizzle through the journey. We were not alone in our journey as scores of other vehicles were heading in the same direction. One of the locals accompanied us in our journey and she had a stall enroute to Tsong Mo Lake. Like most other people, she lived up in the mountains on most days with her sisters where they served tourists with refreshments and provided warm clothing and boots on rent and returned to their home in Gangtok once in a while. We had another Tea break here (might I add that I was sorely tempted to try some alcohol that would suit the cold climate but then, perhaps that is for another day..) and got some boots for the icy terrain that awaited us. The four of us downed Diamox (Acetazolamide) as the high altitude was bound to make us uncomfortable. We reached Tsong Mo Lake just as the mist was beginning to set in and had some customary Yak photos with Raju, the pink-horned Yak.

In your to visit Nathu La Pass, not only does every individual need permit but the vehicle in which you will be travelling also requires another permit. The vehicle in which we were supposed to travel arrived a good 2 hours late (when we had almost given up hope that it would turn up) and with no way or contacting them (no network in these areas!! Except for good old BSNL which is used by .000000001% of the population) we were a frozen, frustrated lot! When the vehicle finally did arrive along with some more people headed towards NLP, we were all bundled together and began yet another journey through winding lanes in progressively deteriorating weather. When we reached the entrance, the weather was anything but supportive of our quest, and the rain showed no signs of relenting. 

Nevertheless, Athhe, Mama and I began climbing upwards through the ice along with dozens of other tourists. There was no path demarcated and one could not see beyond a few feet ahead. We kept asking for directions until we saw a small café tucked inside the ice. We gulped steaming hot tea and some a few momos that scalded our tongue but the heat was a welcome change from the biting cold. The trenchcoat I was wearing was not waterproof; hence I was now soaked down to my feet. I have never experience such extreme climate in all my life and the high altitude was another factor. A father and daughter duo was returning and the father seemed rather shaken by the ordeal and advised against proceeding further as visibility was too poor to see across the border. With a sense of relief mingled with some regret we returned back to the base where we boarded our jeep and began our journey back. An army truck had lost control and was lodged in a ditch so we were delayed by an hour or so.

I must take a moment to describe our driver for the day, Sanjay. A Nepali by origin, he was plump chap and had the demeanour of a cheeky schoolboy, a sarcastic comeback for every dialogue and a witty sense of humour. Although we were downcast with the weather forecast, he entertained us through the journey and dearest Atthe, who I consider as a shining example of beauty with brains (*cough*) finally found an opponent who could retort with equal sarcasm.

We returned to Maple Residency, freshened up and warmed ourselves and took an uphill walk (it seemed like a 70° incline) towards MG Marg. The tiled road does not allow vehicles and flowery lampposts adorned the median path. The road had a European touch to it and one could not help but admire the smart and well dressed women, the handsome policemen and the absolutely adorable little ones. We shopped a little and I purchased a few trinkets. We took a taxi back to our hotel in time for dinner and headed to bed.

The next day we were denied the North Sikkim Permit due to bad weather and we decided to tour Gangtok. Our driver for the day was Deepak, a football player and he was notorious for asking us to alight a good 1km away from the tourist spot with the blatant lie “Nazdeek Hai”. As most of the places are located on a hill top, we trudged along the steep incline wondering how on earth this was “nearby”. Our first visit was to Rumtek monastery and it was fairly crowded with a lot of people seated in the courtyard, on the terrace and along the pavements. We were later informed that it was a holy day for Buddhists and there were special prayers in progress. We witnessed form of dance/ritual performed with elaborate costumes, a menacing headgear and gigantic white boots. We visited the monastery and then did some more shopping at a souvenir store. After this, our next destination was Namgyal Institute of Tibetology which had a a good collection of Tibetian manuscripts, artefacts and explanation of their various practices. One thing we had noticed at the monasteries (Rather, Atthe noticed and we later realized) was how there were always seven bowls/cups of water placed in front of the deity. It was here that we got an explanation for the same.

After this, we had a good lunch (Cheese Pizza) at Hotlinks and proceeded towards Netuk House. This was a homestay with a beautiful garden and a lot of flowers. It had a homely feel to it and just like the other places; we scammed their WiFi without much delay. :P Mild showers left us worried but we equipped ourselves with umbrellas and headed towards MG Marg. We spent the evening here and then returned back to Netuk House in time for dinner where we met another family from Pune. With hopes for the much awaited Permit, we retired for the night.

The next morning after a lot of anticipation, the prestigious Permit was granted to us and we set out towards Lachen with minimal luggage. Our driver Tenzing, an elderly man, seemed like a no nonsense guy and was working on a timeline. He seemed like a seasoned driver and himself hailed from North Sikkim but somehow we couldn’t establish a rapport with him as with the other drivers so far. Along the route, streams confluenced into a cascade and to the city dweller it was indeed a treat to the eyes as they dotted the scenery. We stopped at Mangam for lunch were we met another Kannada family (coincidentally, it was another Balu!). The drizzle picked up pace and soon it was torrential rain and the waterfalls were swollen. Rocks on the road could only mean that they had fallen from the shaky ground above and the overcast sky could only predict gloom. Nevertheless, our driver was optimistic and hoped to reach us to our destination at the earliest. We stopped at Naga falls where the water roared downhill, cutting through the rocks and flooding the cemented bridge. The road ahead seemed daunting and at times, it didn’t seem like a road but a mere excavation through the mountain that stood precariously. We halted at Chumthang for tea where several other travellers huddled together for some chai in the rain. It was here that our driver informed us that the road back to Gangtok was closed due to the collapse of a bridge but we didn’t realize the magnitude of his words until much later.

 We set out towards Lachen and the road was empty save for the villagers gleefully pointing out “Raastha band hai”. Solitary boulders dotted the road and we passed through rickety bridges even as the chocolate brown water gushed downhill with an alarming intensity. The lack of any other vehicles in either direction did not help matters and we were now beginning to question our decision. A lone army jeep was perched atop the hill and we approached the officer for guidance. He advised against proceeding further as the road had caved in due to landslides at 3-4 places. With a heavy heart we returned towards Chumthang and took a turn towards Lachung (the other place on our itinerary). We progressed about a kilometre only to see dozens of tourist vehicles returning back as the roads had caved in here as well. Fate had ordained that Chumthang was the halt for the night so our driver spoke to the owner of the Chai-Snacks place and we were allowed to stay at their place for the night. If you are wondering why we didn’t stay at a hotel, let me assure you that this sleepy little village had none! Chumthang is just another village at the intersection of Lachen, Lachung and Gangtok with nothing significant except for a beautiful Gurudwara.(which has a history of its own…).

We checked into Chumthang residency with mixed feelings; regret for not having made it but gratitude for having food and shelter for the night. Several other tourists were seen scrambling for a place and some were granted permission to sleep in the premises of the gurudwara. We had a room to ourselves, a few thick blankets, bedding and a candle. The twist of events had left us all in varying states of unrest and each of us reacted in different ways to the same situation. The lady of the house was hospitable and they prepared some Dal, rice and fried vegetables for dinner. Her husband, son, daughters, daughter in law and grandson (which we later realized was a granddaughter), three dogs and two cats all lived in that building and that night they opened their doors to 8 Gujarathis, a family of 3 from Delhi and the four of us. The little one entertained us with her antics and it is sheer sadness that I have no photo of her or the daughters. We later heard that not only had the bridge collapsed and washed way in entirety by the waterfall but another landslide had occurred some distance from the bridge and some unfortunate tourists were stranded between the two points with nowhere to go for the night. The night was long and cold and I had some terrifying dreams I would like to forget asap but the next morning was clear and sunny (a lot of touch wood happened at this observation because we could no longer dare to forecast the weather with certainty).

Our tour operator, Roshan was assured us that they would do their best to get us back to the mainland and we took a long walk along the streets of Chumthang town where we met scores of other tourists who had met with the same fate. At the army checkpost, one of the officers assured us that the army would construct a bridge and even urged us to go the Lachen for the day. We spoke to him for a while and slowly began to appreciate the magnitude of work done by the army which mostly goes unrecognized. After receiving a green signal from an army officer and news that Roshan had reached the site of the bridge collapse, we set out back to Gangtok. The army had constructed a makeshift bridge from tree trunks and it was secure enough to handle the tourists. A young lad transported our luggage across the river and through the slippery terrain even as army officers helped us at every juncture *wink*. Once again, we met the other Balu and his family and we exchanged stories of our ordeal. After waiting in the hot sun, the 8 of us (with our entire luggage) set off in a jam packed Bolero towards Gangtok. 

Echoes from the border.

The wind howled, its cries echoed across the mountains and the clouds overhead rumbled ominously. As Lieutenant Amit Singh swerved the truck over yet another curve, he glanced at the steep fall that awaited him if he faltered on this precarious route. So accustomed he was to the mundane routine, freezing temperature and rugged existence that he seldom allowed his mind to wander. Behind him were thirteen other army trucks, also carrying supplies to the next base camp.

Scores of tourists frequented these routes every summer. For them, it was a dream vacation to experience the biting cold, to endure high altitudes and travel through rugged terrain. He smiled to himself at the irony; his ideal vacation was to spend a week in the hustle and bustle of his hometown, Kanpur with his family.

His reverie was clouded by the looming mist and only the headlights of vehicles shone through the foggy veil. He switched off the engine and embarked from the truck. About 100 metres away, was yet another vehicle that had lost control on the road and was now stuck in a pit. Vehicles from both sides could not move both ways even as the driver struggled to get the wheel out of the trench.

As his colleagues also arrived to find out the cause for the commotion, the crowd became noisier, the honking grew louder and they anticipated a quick fix to the situation. Tourists were impatient and wanted to reach the highest point. Together, they moved the vehicle out of the pit and the road was once again cleared.

As they approached the camp, the supplies were unloaded and he then made his way to his deployment for the next month. By far, the most favoured among his colleagues, being posted at Nathu La Pass was something he looked forward to experience.

The rain did not seem to daunt the tourists as they braved the hail and snow and began the uphill ascent. At 14200 feet above sea level, one can have very few things running in their mind. The body has not adapted to the extreme climate so most of your energy and thoughts are focused on self-preservation. He watched as young men and women climbed eagerly in anticipation of the Indo-China border.

An elderly man hobbled through the snow, unsure of his next step. He extended a hand to the old man to help him proceed further but the old mans stopped short and gave him a quick salute and continued onwards. Such was the sincerity in his eyes that Lieutenant Amit Singh was startled.

As he made his way further up, a family of three was making its way to the pinnacle even as they were soaked completely by the rain and snow. The little girl’s teeth chattered and she shivered violently with every gust of wind. Her hair was tied into pigtails and drenched in the rain, but she continued to plough her way through the snow.

It was at that precise moment that Lieutenant Amit Singh understood why every soldier returned a happy man after their deployment at Nathu La Pass. Maybe it had something to do with how the mind plays tricks when you are subjected to extremes, but as he looked into the big brown eyes of an unknown girl saluting him, he saw in her, his very own Anjali. Although she was far away from him and anticipating his return, he knew how she often told her friends with pride, “My Papa is protecting our country!”.

The little girl shook hands with him and trudged along with renewed determination but Amit Singh stood rooted to the spot, dazed momentarily by swirling emotions within.

True, tourists might seem as an unnecessary responsibility at an International Border but it is during days like this that you realize how it is also a good thing.

The little girl walked away with the memory of an Indian soldier, but the Lieutenant was consumed by the familiar ache, the unquenchable longing for a home he barely frequented, for the family that was fast becoming accustomed to his absence and for his children who were growing up faster than he could keep pace with.

That night, as he lay in his bunker, he opened the letters from home and began reading the untidy scrawls by his Anjali progressing to legible sentences and now, a well-articulated letter. Tears welled inside him as her remembered her first footsteps; the only milestone that he had witnessed.

True, it was a hard life and many continued to question his decision but he believed in what he was doing and he was proud of his choice. He was a soldier of the Indian army and he knew that despite everything, his family was equally proud of his decision to serve the country.

North East Part 1

It’s been ages since I blogged and once again I am at a loss for words. There’s so much I need to fill up on that I don’t think I can even do it!

So the much awaited trip is finally over but I still seem to be in a hangover. There was pre-Trip excitement and now there is post trip euphoria. Will I ever reach steady state equilibrium?

I wish I could be that person who gives a beautiful travelogue chronicling the journey from Day 1 to Day 10 but sadly I simply cannot do it. Or else I’m going to do a really short version of that and then elaborate on some snapshots.

So we started off from Bangalore on 10^th of May around 7.30 towards Kempegowda Airport and had a quick breakfast on the way. The landscaping enroute to the airport has been spruced up to give any person landing in Bangalore a wonderful impression of the city. Broad lanes, flowering shrubs on the sideway and skyscrapers doting the foreground made it picture perfect. :)

Call me a kid but I still am and perhaps will always be excited by air travel. The whole atmosphere of the airport makes you feel you are out to do something big! *me and my silly thoughts*But to be honest, a lot more people travel by flight these days. Our Indigo flight was packed to the brim and it seemed like the AC compartment of BLR-Shimoga train except this was high up in the sky amidst the clouds! After a fairly uneventful journey and some blatant gazing at the airhostesses we landed at the Baghdoghra Defence Airport which is tiny compared to BLR airport. Our Driver for the first leg of the journey, Amrit had arrived and we bundled into the Innova and set off. After lunch at Bihari vegetarian restaurant we proceeded towards Darjeeling through mild showers and through tea gardens on flat land. In the initial leg of the journey, background music was provided by me and it made the journey all the more beautiful as we made our way through the hills. We had a quick Maggie stop and began the first of innumerable “Tea Breaks”. We reached Darjeeling by 8.30 and the drizzle had intensified into a steady shower as we checked into Little Tibet. It was a cute property (as we discovered in the morning) but we were exhausted by a day of travel so we had a quick dinner and hit the sack.

The next day was Darjeeling sight-seeing. We did not visit Tiger Hill (famed for its flaming red view of the Kanchenjunga) as the mist had not cleared after yesterday’s rains so it was unlikely that we would see much. We visited a few places like the Japanese Temple, Peace Pagoda and a tiny art gallery which is promoted as a tourist attraction. We visited the Padmaja Naidu Zoological Park for its main attraction, the red panda where we also happened to meet Likki and her family. Lunch was at this hotel near the zoo and after this we headed towards the Tibetian Refugee Centre where we saw a lot of kids who were probably used to being photographed! Our next stop was Mall Road where we did some shopping and hogging in Pizza Hut (Ah, Bliss!). We visited the famous Glenary’s Bakery. It’s a 1950’s café where you can sit out and watch the mountains over a cup of tea and you will not realize how time flies. After this we walked further ahead on Mall Road till we reached an open air theatre where people performed some acrobatics on one side and on the other side was a screen playing Arijit Singh’s tracks. We spent a good few hours here and then returned to Little Tibet for dinner.

Day 3 began on a drizzly note so we sent up our prayers which were duly answered. We drove out of Darjeeling and made our way towards Pelling. We drove through the hills and children walked along the sides as they made their way towards schools. Dressed to suit the chilly weather, young girls and boys walked under the shade of umbrellas in the backdrop of mountains. For them it was another day, for us it was a memory to cherish. We waved out to them, some waved back and a little boy cried as he watched his geometry box slip and tumble down the mountains.

We drove alongside the Teesta River flowing in all her glory through the mountains. The rains subsided as we reached Melli.  We took the longer round which would give us 5-6 rapids and lasted about 40 minutes. We were driven to the rafting point in a jeep and believe it or not, 16 people were bundled together in a single jeep (including the rafting men hanging on to the sides of the vehicle!). Nidhi and I took the oars (while I strongly believe that majority of the work was done by the pros seated at the back, it was still a tiring job to row through the force of the river but everytime we faced the rapids, it was an amazing feeling as the raft rocked to and fro and threatened to turn over but was expertly maneuvered by the raftsmen  (I made that up lol). So we struck up a conversation with one of the raftsmen and when we revealed that we were from Karnataka, he amazed us with a “Kannada swalpa swalpa baratte” since he’d lived here for a few years. Nidhz and I took a dip in the Teesta River and it was cool and refreshing. I still cannot believe how I was singlehandedly hauled out of the river by the raftsman as though I was just another fish in the river! Post another maggi and chai session, lunch was at Hotel 10zing where I tried the local delicacy of Thukpa but perhaps it was not meant for me! We proceeded further towards Pelling and we reached Norbu Gang in the evening. It was another drizzly evening so we stayed inside our wooden cabins and warmed the room with the heater. We took a long walk in the rain, explored the cute property and then settled down after dinner.

The next morning was fairly sunnier and Mama and I took an early morning walk, spotted a tiny petrol bunk at the edge of a cliff and failed to get a decent cup of tea anywhere. Our new driver was Bittu who had decked up his Xylo with ManU merchandise. We started off towards Rabdentse ruins but did not venture further. We instead visited Pemayangtse Monastery from where we got a good view of the ruins and we spent some time observing the architecture of the monastery and the carvings, scriptures and paintings on the walls. We visited Singshore Bridge which is the second largest suspension bridge at a length of 189 metres. The view was magnificent and called for some photoshoots. As we proceeded further in our journey, waterfalls accompanied us and the joy of watching fresh water cascade downhill is indescribable. Through the course of this journey we had some great music providing a wonderful backdrop against the scenery. From Bollywood to English tracks to even some Nepali numbers, the playlist was just perfect!! We reached Kecheopalri Lake in the afternoon and this is supposed to be a holy lake where wishes made are said to come true. I bought one of those “Om Mane Pe Me Hu” Thoranas and it’s the one thing that I’ve added to my corner of the room to bring some colour. Lunch was at this veg restaurant suggested by the driver and we even saw some legit South Indian food and also CURD (Woohoo. When I say Curd, It was REAL LIVE CURD, not the uggh yuck muck kind of curd they make from the powdered milk! :P

 Kanchenjunga Falls was the next pitstop and it was tucked away in the interior. One of the locals helped us hop nearer to the falls ensuring that we didn’t slip on the way.There really is no word to describe how you feel as you watch pure unadulterated, unpolluted, crystal clear water gushing down in all its glory and splash across leaving a wave of lush greenery around it. That is how nature paints her magic; silently, quietly but so remarkably inimitable.

After this, we travelled further through hills and valleys until we reached Yuksom which is basically the starting point for the Goecha La / Dzongri trek. (DO read about these epic treks lasting for 9/10days entailing sleeping in tents, under the open skies and living it rough until you reach the Goecha La peak) We were to stay at Tashi Gang Hotel (we learnt later that this was actually managed by Danny Denzongpa [the Bollywood actor btw]’s brother). It’s remarkable how useful online reviews are, because the description perfectly matched what we had read on TripAdvisor. True to the review, the hotel was good and the view was promising but it seemed like it was only managed by a couple of teenage boys. Just as we had read, they sat watching the television and much to our (particularly Atthe’s) chagrin, it appeared that there were no other tourists residing In the entire hotel. Black and white photographs of Lepcha and Bhutia tribes of Sikkim taken in the 1800s adorned the eerie walls and bugs and beetles awaited us indoors. Atthe and Nidhi skipped dinner, so Mama and I went down and saw that they had prepared quite a few things (for the only residents of the hotel!). In most places, when we specified that we were strictly vegetarian, you could notice how their face fell by the tiniest fraction. Eggs, Chicken and Meat probably form a vital part of their diet so they were not used to such a ‘plain’ fare. We asleep soon enough and I had the most ABSURD dream. EVER. 

The next morning we woke up a beautiful view in our balcony (as promised by the TripAdvisor review), packed up and left towards Ravangla, Namchi and Samdrupse Hill.

Ravangla has a huge Buddha statue and a shrine underneath with a lot of intricate murals describing the life of Buddha. I purchased a few souvenirs here and we had some hot momos, maggi and more chai. The place was well maintained and flowers of all varieties enhanced the picture perfect frame. After this we headed to Namchi in South Sikkim where a huge statue of Shiva was at the epicentre while 12 temples (of the Jyothirlingas) surrounded it along with  4 Dhams (Rameshwar, Badri, Dwarka and Puri- This does not refer to the traditional 4 dhams as established by Adi Shankaracharya). After a quick lunch of Roti and Subzi, we did our round of the temples and then proceeded towards Samdrupse Hill. It was during the journey that Atthe struck up a conversation with the driver and discovered more about him. It was indeed surprising to know that he was a post graduate and intended to get into the Police force and had already made an attempt. Just like how Appa engaged Tanveer (our driver in Kashmir) with a lively banter, we learnt a lot about Sikkim, its culture and people through these interactions.

Some of the snapshots: 
I intend to share more pictures of our travels but my crappy network does not seem to support this idea. -.-

At the Kanchenzonga Falls

View from 301, Tashi Gang, Yuksom 

At Ravangla Buddha Park

View from Norbu Gang, Pelling

At Peace Pagoda, Darjeeling.

BRB.

Musical Memoirs.

Why do I love music?

It’s because music understands in a way like nothing else. Music connects to that part of your soul which either leaves you with emptiness or a sense of inexplicable contentment. Music can fill the void in your life, music can bear the emptiness in your heart and more than anything, music can celebrate with your happiness. Every emotion is amplified with the right music.

Music can bring out the dark memories that you want to banish from your mind or the even your most cherished ones.

Every song (atleast 75%) of the songs I listen to have associations. It might be the simplest memory of the location where I was when I heard it or something more complicated like what I was going on in my life when I heard it.

Take:

• Manja: takes me back to the movie Kai Po Che which I watched with the Deeksha gang on the sanskrit exam got over. It was my first such outing with so many people and we had a good time. The best part is Adi and Sanj also have fond memories associated with this song :)

• My Happy Ending: Stardoll lead me to Avril Lavigne and some "research" on the Girlfriend singer lead me to this song. There is so much sorrow and anger in this song that it just resonated further back then with my moody musings.

• Naadan Parinday: This beautiful song was stuck in my mind during the holidays post first year. Maybe it was Rahman's voice or maybe it was the soulful lyrics, but it is definitely a song that will remain with you.

• One in a million: I recently got this song after almost 5-6 years. Back in high school, watching Hannah Montana was not encouraged at home but the badass that I am, I would continue to stare at the idiot box even after Suite Life of Zac and Cody had ended (oh that show! :') )Maybe the simplicity of the lyrics or my eagerness to relate to it being a teenager led to my obsession with few of her songs.

• Too little, too late by Jojo: Donated to my playlist by Maidha during Deeksha days, this song is a typical example of how when you are in the mood, you seem to be able to relate to every song that you listen to.

• Raabta: Another donation by Maidha on one rainy day back from Deeksha, I only fell in love with this song much later.

•  Phir Mohabbat: Not many know that Pa was and still is a great lover of music. Back when it was the era of cassettes, he had a huge collection of songs of Mohammed Rafi, Kishore Kumar, Kumar Sanu and the likes. He took my surprise when this song was playing over the radio and he announced that it was actually one of his "current favourites". Given how he is usually not expressive, his explanation really touched me.

• Yoon Shabnami: Did I mention I was also into cassette collecting business? So when the movie promos were out, I had to plead and managed to get both OSO and Saawariya cassettes. I had this small casette player (I still didn't have my iPod yet I guess). This qawwali style song was on the hitlist in those days not to mention the other songs of Sawaariya.

• Ai Pappi: Kismet Konnection: Yep, you read it right. I'm usually not the funky party song kinda song but I do have the occasional love for some peppy numbers and this is one of them. Maybe it was Shahid Kapoor’s dance or just the infectious beat of this song that made it a favourite back then.

• Heroes: Alesso. Donated to my playlist by Froggie, this song has such a good vibe that it’s a great way to begin your morning.

• Something New: Axwell Ingrosso. Yet another contribution by the music addicted Frog that’s got a great tempo and a feel-good vibe to it.

• Empty: The Click Five. Knowing my love for Snow Patrol, Annlee contributed this song because it’s got some similarity with Chasing Cars (Snow Patrol). They don’t have too many songs but this is one of their good ones.

YOLO

There’s just so much going on lately that there’s been no time to sit down and blog it out  and yet the urge to pen down my thoughts only gets stronger.

I probably can’t provide a detailed account of everything that’s happened lately but here are the highlights:

• Aynur scenes on Manjushri’s Gaadi with Abhi (all because we didn’t want to stay on campus on that particular evening). We went ahead by 13kms and then realized that we’d already crossed Aynur so we drove back and then made our way to Aynur Dam (which doesn’t exist. It’s a lake which was drying up) but nevertheless we had a good time racing on the highway until the gaadi became all wobbly!

                          

 

• Home scenes: I’ve been going home every 10 days or so and things are improving only very slightly. Bheemi is bored at home since Science camp is over, the 3 day outdoor camp is also over and there’s nothing to do other than bug the birds or Ma. I’m not sure where things are headed but I’ve got the knack of filtering out these worries from my brain and feeding new ones when I get back to college. I wish I could spend more time with her given how she doesn’t play with the neighbourhood kids or by herself. The comparisons with the present scenario and the seemingly idyllic childhood that I had only puts more pressure on everyone and I hope once school starts, the usual routine will put everyone back in gear.

• Mama and his Toastmasters:

I haven’t spoken much about the famous Balu Mama (yep, he’s quite famous among my friends) here and this seems like a good time. So being the CFO of Fidelity, he is definitely a busy man but his dedication to his passion is noteworthy. Initially it was music and he made time for it and attended the classes in the midst of tiny tots and improved gradually. Today he sings well during Karaoke sessions at home with other fellow music lovers.

About 2 years ago, he took up Toastmasters to improve his public speaking skills given how he is required to speech to large gathering in his work capacity. I’ve been listening to his speeches and reading his scripts from his early days and I can only marvel at the improvement he has shown over time. The effort he puts in for every weekly speech is noteworthy given how he spends most of his time at office or in transit. These days he is participating in competitions and making waves in the Toastmaster circles. Given how he is now mastering the finer nuances of the art of oration, I can no longer provide any criticism to his speeches.

The other day we were at Cubbon for Di’s mountaineering class and Mama presented his speech. He describes how in his college days, cricket was his passion and in one such match, he was fielding and his arch rival was batting. While the ball came in his direction and he caught in the nick of time, not many knew that it had crossed the boundary line. While that remained within him and nagged him in spite of winning the match, it was only later in life did he face the bigger challenge.

While working in one of the international banks in his younger days, he was offered a senior position if he agreed to certain terms and conditions. On closer looks, he realized what they expected of him was unacceptable and would only land him in a soup later. It was a tough choice and the promise of luxury was inviting but the burden of guilt would be too much and nothing was worth the peace of mind he could have. Thus he left and began working is way up all over again in Fidelity.

Thus, we are often faced with tough decisions in life, sometimes the line between what is right and what is wrong is a thin one and not everyone might appreciate it but as long as you can see the line, you need to exert your will power and do the right thing.

I’m also thankful to him for making a huge difference in the light of recent events. Words cannot express how his timely intervention softened Pa’s stance. I only shudder to think of how things would have progressed if not for him. Whatever he said definitely had an impact and made Pa look at things slightly more broadly.

• Demedcon 2016

So we attended the Neurology workshop and the quiz at Devraj Urs Medical College. BP, Govi and I had a good time.

• Abhi and Avm were in Bangalore in the same week and we all (including BP and Govi) spent some time together. Di and I joined them later at BlueO and we spent time bowling, Di had some Gaadi scenes of her own and then headed home. Di did a lot of photography and turns out she was not half bad. The evening was memorable one but the evening didn’t go along expected lines but maybe hoping for it to was just my foolishness.

• There are plenty of thoughts running in my mind but I don’t think they deserve the importance of me brooding over them. Nothing is constant. It’s all about priorities. Happiness is a choice, a conscious decision and once you make it, it's not about the circumstances you are in. It's about the way you choose to react to it. A wise frog once said, react to yourself and not for others. It's best to deal with your thoughts within your own cranium rather than expecting others to understand. 

• I participated in the 5K Speakathon on May 1 which was to raise funds for the speech and hearing centre in Shimoga. A good number of people turned up and several of our professors were all set for a good jog on a Sunday morning. So Shobith was also participating in the event so he picked us (Akkamma, Varsha and I) and we registered and got our Tees. It wasn't all that tiring and we jogged/ brisk walked for the most part and got our certificates. After the mandatory photo session we all parted ways. It was a good start to the day and definitely a great initiative in Shimoga. I wish I was fit enough to participate in the 10k! Maybe next year :)

• And the countdown begins! I’m thrilled to bits about the upcoming trip and can’t wait for this vacation. After all the uncertainty and confusion in the past 2 months, all I want to do is explore new territory and get lost in the midst of nature! I’m going to stay off the radar (hopefully) and do some much needed soul searching. Paediatric postings are at stake but then, you just can’t let go of some opportunities…. :P  

ENT internals are coming up over this weekend but all I can think of is what lies ahead. It’s about time I get back to Semicircular canals and turbinates.

Movie Marathon

There are so many good movies that I’ve been watching lately and there’s something to take back from each of them.

Take Philadelphia for example. Set in the 1980s when AIDS was still a taboo and a gay man with AIDS was certainly a bigger taboo in the United States. So the protagonist (Tom Hanks) plays a lawyer who is wrongfully terminated on the grounds of his illness and the story is about how he and his lawyer fight for his rights. The movie is probably predictable but it’s still worth a watch to see a man fight for what he believes in.

Another beautiful movie is Good Will Hunting (starring Matt Damon). Robin Williams plays a therapist who tries to bring the unruly orphaned genius on to the right track. A long time ago Atthe had recommended this movie; probably when I was in high school. It’s truly a must-see.

Catch Me If You Can starring Leonardo is one movie that will make you realize why the Oscar was an overdue for Leo. A cat and mouse game that will keep you guessing till the end, it’s one of the few movies of DiCaprio that I’ve watched and I clearly need to watch more.

Charlie is a Malayalam movie that I recently watched and it’s amazing how these Mallu movies tend to be so creative and original. A free spirited designer goes in search of the previous resident of her house after she is mesmerized by his creativity and what she infers about him. The man in question is also a happy go lucky wanderer who tries to help people who have no place to go.

Letters to Juliet starring Amanda Seyfried was another movie that I enjoyed inspite of it being borderline corny. Perhaps the whole idea of writing letters to Juliet and getting answers in return is romanticised a bit too much but I liked the movie for its freshness.

And yes, I watched Jab We Met again and cried like a baby. I can’t believe I finally got my hands on this movie. It takes me back to 7^th standard when I was simply OBSESSED with the movie and the ideas of ‘Geet’ and ‘Aditya’.

I finally watched Veer-Zara starring SRK and Preity Zinta and it’s got the typical Yashraj style of romance; songs, dance sequences, emotional drama and finally an end to the wait. Preity Zinta reminds me of another era of actresses who were genuinely naturally beautiful and it had less to do with skin show or expensive fashion sense. She’s just so natural in the movie sans extensive make up that you wonder what’s up with the skinny plastic models these days. And as for SRK, the dashing young pilot makes you realize why he’ll always be the heartthrob for the Bollywood loving teenage girl.

I also recently watched the movie ‘Fan’ starring SRK in a dual role. While it definitely is one of his best movies in recent times, it is SRK-centric and devoid of music so those with ear for melody will return unrewarded. The fact that I watched it with two die hard SRK fans did not ease matters and I was left with many doubts during the movie but nevertheless it was an interesting evening out.

Watching Jungle Book with Di was interesting considering how we reached 10minutes late, wandered around the theatre in search of our seats in a packed multiplex and then I shivered every time Sher Khan lunged at us or Bhageera pounced from across the screen while Bheemi sat still unmoved by all the action. To those who’ve read the book, there are deviations from the original tale by Rudyard Kipling but somehow the whole setting is just like how I’d visualized it while reading the book and that’s a beautiful feeling. :)

Innocence

Its meaning I set out to define,
And I delved through memories of mine.
Flashes of sunny days floated by,
Rising on the swing as the sky unfurled.
Glimpses of cold winter evenings flashed by,
Ensconced in a book, I was in another world.

Was it in the paper boats floating on a rainy day?
Or the doodles on the wall that refused to be erased?
Did it lie in the cloud shapes in the sky?
Or maybe in the butterflies that we chased?

Was it in the squabbles in school over stationery?
Or in the flutter of our hearts which was only temporary?
Was it in the plaited hair and plain old skirt?
Or in the shoes that shone without a speck of dirt?

Maybe it was in the happiness for the little things,
The blooming of flowers in spring,
The scent of the mud that the rain brings,
Or perhaps in the joy of listening to the neighbourhood birds sing.

Maybe, back then it was a simpler time,
It remained within but I never gave a dime.
It lasted while I was in ignorance,
But today, it has no existence.

Setting Sun

It was the hour of the setting sun; birds flew back to their nests, cows sauntered back to their sheds and the strong winds shepherded the farmers back to their houses after a hard day at work. But some never found their way back.

Krishnappa sat at the footsteps of the house, leaning against the wooden pillar and gazing into the distance with a woebegone expression. With his sparse grey hair and wrinkled creases etched on his forehead, he could easily pass of as a grandfather in his 70s. Yet he watched the kids in the neighbourhood wistfully and the memories flooded back to him stronger than ever. Unable to watch the sight of the children playing Hide and Seek, he began to shout at them. He waved his stick menacingly until they ran away laughing at the expense of the “mad old man”.

Having cleared the street of its only lively residents, he settled down and resumed his contemplation until the sky discreetly transformed from a fiery red to a stealthy purple concealing with it, the mysteries of the night. The stars appeared surreptitiously, until the blue velvety sky was studded like a thousand bejewelled spectacle. He remained in his solitary trance until the call of his wife beckoning him indoors shook him out of his reverie.

If Krishnappa has seemed a tad monochrome, Anandibhai’s spirit sufficed for the two of them. She hummed a tune as she went about her chores, her silver anklets keeping rhythm to the melody. There was a sparkle in her eyes though her face was wrinkled with age and her heart; weathered with pain. If Krishnappa was still a sane man, it was undoubtedly due to the good natured charm of Anandibhai.

They laid the vessels on the floor and she began yet another animated conversation of how their neighbour’s daughter Rukmini was seen at the lake with the milkman’s youngest son Arun after sunset. Krishnappa didn’t mind the mindless chatter as he quietly ate his meal. In fact, he was glad because her soliloquy gave her some respite from the numbing pain gnawing him from within. How did she bear it? Why was he not as strong as her? Why did the memories keep flooding back to him like it was just yesterday? Did she also grieve for the past but stifle the pain under a façade?

“Are you even listening?!”She snapped at him crossly.

“Yes, yes, how audacious of them! So young and irresponsible! This can’t be encouraged.” He added hastily as his wife eyes him suspiciously.

“You don’t hear a word of what I say! I was telling you that Jalaja’s daughter gave birth to twins last week”. She looked at him with concern. Her tone softened and she continued, “Krishna, what has come over you lately? Why are you so sullen and indifferent? Do you not like what I cook?”

Ah, the clever woman. With those large brown eyes looking piteously at him, he would have thought she was truly hurt but the hint of a smile betrayed her purpose and he could not help but indulge his wife with an appreciative smile. After all, nobody could possibly cook better than his wife in all of Narasipura.

“Ramaa!”

It was a piercing cry that broke the silence of the night. She woke up with a start and glanced at him. Yet another piteous cry echoed through the barren household. His face was contorted in pain and tears streamed down his cheeks. No! She could not see him suffer even in his sleep. Gently, he she woke him up and put an end to the nightmare that continued to haunt the daylights out of her husband.

As the days wore on, the household was enveloped by a pall of gloom. Not even the lilting melodies of Anandibhai could elicit a smile from the increasingly restless Krishnappa. The nightmares grew more frequent, the neighbourhood children did not dare to enter their street and Anandibhai was at her wit’s end. Seldom did Anandibhai give in to the demons inside her; she strived to remain as a beacon of hope and support to her husband. But the burden of being the sole pall bearer to the persistent misery was beginning to overwhelm her and she gave in to the momentary weakness.

It was five years ago that their life changed forever. Their only son Madan, his wife Radhika and their son Rama had come to the village for the temple festival. After the marriage Madan was a busy man in the city with responsibilities. Radhika was accomplished and educated but she remained cold and aloof with them. It was their son, Rama who brought joy into the life of the old couple. His eyes twinkled naughtily and hinted at more mischief. He tottered around the house on unsteady feet and claimed a place everyone’s hearts. With his curly mop of hair, chubby fingers that always found themselves in trouble and baby talk that flattered even the most hard-hearted person, Rama was the talk of the town seldom though his visits were. He was the apple of his grandfather’s eye and was proudly paraded around the town on the old man’s shoulders on every such visit to the village.

Rama was now about four years old and some said that he was Lord Krishna incarnate with his sense of humour intact. It was the season of the temple festival and there was a fair which attracted throngs of onlookers from the nearby villages. Krishnappa insisted on taking Rama to the fair with promises of joyrides, rasgullas and balloons. The mother detested the idea, the father reluctantly permitted it and the two set off hand in hand into distance.

It was the hour of the setting sun; birds flew back to their nests, cows sauntered back to their sheds and the strong winds shepherded the farmers back to their houses after a hard day at work. But some never found their way back.

Gaily lit lamps adorned the entrances and stalls selling trinkets and toys beckoned them further into the melee. The humdrum of chatter, the excited screams of children on the joyrides and the rhythmic beats of the ‘dhol’ filled the air.

It was a lot more crowded than he had expected; Krishnappa clasped little Rama’s hand tightly and they slowly made their way through the milling crowd. Stalls at every few steps allured them with promises with toys, sweets, balloons and games. It was every child’s dream come true. The excited boy tugged at him and guided him further into this delightful place.

A toy train that moves on tracks. “Okay, son”

Gulab jamoons! “Sure, why not?”

A multi-coloured spinning wheel! “Anything for you, little one”

Krishnappa could not help but indulge his only grandson and agreed without a second thought. He fished out his purse from his waistcoat to give the shopkeeper the exact change.

“Thatha, balloons!” the little boy squeaked excitedly and tugged at his clothes.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming” the old man replied and turned around to find himself staring at the sea of humanity.

Suddenly the air was humid and suffocating him. He pushed through the crowd angrily and charged in the direction of the balloon seller. But there were balloon sellers in every direction and nowhere did he spot the familiar curly mop of hair. He waded through the crowd, shouting with all his strength “Ramaa! Ramaa!” but he never heard the response to his calls. The minutes turned into hours, the crowds thinned and the shopkeepers began to pack up their wares after a good day of business. Krishnappa was now delirious and ran across the field like a man possessed.

The night was chilly and he was freezing under the shade of a tree when they arrived. “Where is he?” his son thundered. The woman beside him was livid with rage and her eyes glinted menacingly. He could not meet their eyes. Yet they bore into him like gimlets. He could feel their scorching gaze burning him and he sobbed quietly.

“Where is my son?” his son repeated with a deathly calm that often precedes a murderous rage. Words failed him and he bowed his head, overcome by shame. Harsh words followed, he vaguely remembered being struck by his own son but his eyes searched for Anandibhai who wept silently in the distance, unable to stop them, unable to say anything.

It was a long night and accusatory eyes followed him as they made their way to the police station and filed a complaint. The Inspector made no promises. If anything, he ridiculed him and asked them to forget that they ever had a little boy. Policemen were sent to the neighbouring villages, every known offender was questioned and all desolate buildings were searched, yet no clues emerged. It seemed like he had vanished into thin air in a fraction of a second.

The morning brought no relief and the siege intensified further. Anandibhai tried to diffuse the tension but the sharp vitriolage of the mother scorched her into painful silence. The police were on the lookout and pursuing several leads but it would take time and anything could happen in that time. In the week that followed, they lived a ghostly existence and the happy babbles of the little boy haunted them. Even if they did fall into the snares of restful sleep, they were rudely awoken by vivid delusions of unfathomable possibilities. None could compare the pain and angst of a mother separated from her son but Krishnappa was consumed by an equally heart-wrenching emotion: Guilt. It seared through him like knives of ice and ripped him apart until he could no longer feel; his tears stilled and there was just emptiness within.

It was on the ninth day since the incident that a silver lining appeared in their dark thunderstorm of clouds. Madan received a call and immediately left. After a while, Radhika began packing up and she too left without revealing anything. Anticipating good news, Krishnappa and Anandibhai went to the police station. A cab was parked outside, ready to leave. Radhika sat inside and she did not seem to be alone. Was that him? Could it be..?

Happiness flooded through them after the drought of misery and pain and they eagerly made their way towards the car when they were ambushed by constables. Madan emerged out of the police station and eyed them stonily.

“There will be no need for any of this. Do not attempt to contact us. Let us live in peace.” He announced and proceeded towards the cab. Before they could protest, the constables hustled them to a corner where they watched helplessly as their only son became a stranger.

A tiny head bobbed out of the window; with the curly mop of hair dangling close to the sunken eyes and a small smile, “Thathaa!” said the little one and waved at them until the mother pulled him away and shut them out forever.

It was much later, through the rumour-mongers in the neighbourhood that they gleaned that Rama had been found in a hamlet near Bangalore. The kidnappers had demanded a ransom but the police had swung into action and nabbed the culprit and rescued the boy. He was safe but shaken by the incident. Attempts to reach him had been futile for they had cut contacts with most relatives and their hopes had dwindled after several fruitless attempts in the huge city.

“Anandi!” repeated Krishnappa and she was jolted back to reality. “I want to go to Bangalore. This is my last chance. I cannot live much longer like this. All I desire is to meet my Rama, even if only once. I will die a happy man seeing the smile on his face.” Anandi sighed. She did not protest but this seemed like taking to the uncharted seas without a compass. Where would they look?

They packed their bags and left the next day to the hustle and bustle of the cosmopolitan city. Combing through the little information they had obtained about their son, they revisited his old workplace. The Manager had been warned about them and sent them away while his old colleagues refused to reveal anything about the family. Unable to contain herself, Anandi made a plaintive request, pleading to see her son in her twilight hours but it made no impact on them. As they trudged out of the office, the security guard noticed the defeated look and enquired about them. He remembered the bright young man Madan working at the office a few years ago. “I swear that I do not know their whereabouts but I have seen them drop off the little one at Poornaprajna School in Banaswadi. I may be old but my eyesight has not yet failed me.”

With renewed vigour and zest, they travelled to the school and waited by its imposing gates. Slowly, cars began to line up in anticipation of the tiny tots inside. Krishnappa and Anandibhai sat unobtrusively in the shade of a tree and waited hopefully. As the sea of children emerged out of the gates, they were momentarily taken aback. The little ones eagerly bounded homeward and rushed out to meet their parents. Slowly the older children made their way out of the gates with much more grace but nothing could hide the excitement of returning to their nest after a long day of lessons and no play.

Amidst the bobbing heads, the striped shirts and blue trousers, a solitary curly mop of hair stood out.. There he was, taller than before, with a boyish grin as he talked animatedly with his group of friends.

Krishnappa could not stop himself. He hobbled forwards and called out with every ounce of his energy, “Ramaa!”

Like a deer sensing the scent of a wild animal, he froze for a second, alert at the sound of a familiar voice. He turned towards them and in that moment, their eyes met. Krishnappa looked at him with tears of joy and Rama broke into a smile and embraced with pure unadulterated love.

Somewhere in the distance, a car honked angrily, but it did not matter, not today. Maybe, in the end, everyone finds their way back to where they belong.