3 down - 1 to go??

Fatema's engaged!!!!!

Yay hay!! 

Amu getting married was a shocker alright.. I remember not being there at her wedding and having cold feet myself while she was getting married at Meerut a few months ago. And then when I saw them at the reception at Indore, everything just fell into place. It seemed oh-so-perfect. I couldn't see anyone else readier than Rahul and Amu to be where they were. Frankly, I hadn't thought that she would be the first amongst us to be tying the knot.

And now there's Kirti. Her story is out of a book. Picture perfect. And she couldn't be more ready for this. Can't believe I missed her big day. Dying of guilt.

But we'll still be around for each other, won't we? 

Yeah sure we will. We could sustain the distances, the curfews, the busy schedules, the varied lives, the different careers, the varied interests and everything else. We can surely take the new phases in our lives.

And now comes the scary part. It's me next. Well I'm sure there's a long way to go. But the thought of these girls slipping into their new roles so smoothly and efficiently just makes me all the more uncertain and jittery about it all. I'm the psychopath here, I guess.

Long story short, I love them all. And this will never cease to be.

Lansdowne

It was impromptu. And that is what made it perfect. It was luxurious. And laid back. And unhurried. It couldn't have been better. It was Lansdowne - unheard of, untouched. And the best part is that it was with my firends.

We got up at an unearthly hour which is usually the time when we sleep. I had been all Monica and everyone atleast pretended to take heed and were yawning and rolling their eyes at 5 in the morning. Sadly though, Daddu, who had been assigned the only task of dealing with the cab, had failed to check the last night whether the car was there or not. And well, it wasn't. So here we were - with our back packs and water and plastic bag full of games - without a car, right outside campus waiting for a car that would never arrive. We didn't have the heart to go back because we had sensed jealous glances by a group of Mafia players as we had walked out. All Daddu could do was make call after call in vain, keep a safe distance from me and laugh at the silly jokes Suarvi and Ankur were making. Kinshu was too sleepy to react.

But as the dawn was breaking, these people could literally see why I wasn't smiling. So they went into action and another car was very efficiently arranged - by who else, but Ankur. Kinshu also contributed his able bit. Or so it seemed. Till then we had much needed coffee at Rockland and Suravi, the official photographer started clicking away to glory as if she's never getting hold of a camera ever again.

So the other car arrives - resplendent like a white steed waiting to take us flying into the hills. The driver was nonchalant. I like them that way and off we went. NOw talking about 5 management students going on a 'planned' trip, only 2 had enuf cash. The others were sitting on a cornucopia of worthless credit cards peering out of the windows in search of an operational ATM. As luck may have it or by Murphy's law, whatever you wanna call it, there was none. Our desperate eyes could but blink at the despair of not having any money and being at Lansdowne before we'd know it. This was sheep poetry.

We reached Meerut and had breakfast there. Suravi chose an apology for a Dosa and we followed suit. Daddu was finicky as usual - typical problem child and nibbled at a veg sandwich for what seemed to be an eternity. Kinshu and I fought over Sudoku. They don't understand I have OCD. 

Suravi, the photographer, started clicking away again. She had begun to bug me now with all the clicking without even asking the clickee to smile or pose in a manner that hides what the clickee wants to hide. Anyways. Paparrazzi - a necessary evil.

We found our way to Kotdwar - asking people for directions, looking at road signs, following insticnts. At the same time our helpless eyes kept hunting for an ATM. Eveywhere we stopped, we found them out of order. It was as if all the green had been sucked out overnight. Finally, Bidnaur answered our prayers. And this was where Daddu wailed for some very rancid Kachoris, for which he paid heavily through his nose (literally), later :) Somewhere along the way, Kaddu even managed to buy a CD called "Latest Bollywood hits" that he failed to operate efficiently. The impatient audience didnot let him play his offering on the stubborn player. Instead, Suravi the photographer turned Suravi the DJ and it wasn't so bad after all.

We soon reached the foothills after winding through the tempting, lush green farms that Kinshu couldn't resist. He always comes up with the corniest of ideas. Well, thankfully, the driver did not pay any heed to his repeated pleas to stop the car.

As we started the climb, we were greeted by regal fir and the heady smell of the forest. It was quiet except for the occassional monkey call that Kaddu responded to promptly from his cleaner's seat. And ofcourse, there were the winding curves and the tummy churning bends. One of the road signs read "Be Gentle on Curves". Although laughable, I find perfect sense in it now. The breakfasxt at Tiffany strained to get out of my innards and well, it did. My so-called friends posed for more pictures while I barfed my lungs out. Was that the beginning of a snowfall? Coz Daddu soon followed - Kaddu slyly reminding him of the rancid, stale Kachoris that he so relished. So much for empathy.

Lo and behold - we were at Lansdowne now. It is small, pretty, clean and right out of a painting. Brightly coloured pathways, checkposts with interesting messages, Cantonment flags fluttering away in the fresh mountain winds, jawans at their starchy best and the deafening calm. 

After a failed attempt at accomodation at the Tourist Lodge, we went to a place called FairyDale that Bansal, our remote guide from campus had mentioned. And this was true heaven. A cottage that could might as well belong to Three Golliwogs, climbers all over the place, towering trees all around, a large suite for peanuts - what else could one ask for. We crashed. And how :) Ofcourse, after scrumptuous lunch at a dingy hole called Tipseey's :) A few rotis downed with Avomen later, we were ready to doze off. 

And doze off we did - well just Kinky n I. The others goofed around - I think they tried playing UNO and Scrabble. And soon realised it's not fun without me :D So after we woke up, we decided we would go somewhere atleast. Like sightseeing or something. Coz thats what tourists usually are supposed to do. So we go to what is called Tiffin Point or was it Tip In Point. Thats the beauty of a small one horse town like Lansdowne. The place was spelt differently everywhere I read the name. There wasn't much there, except for the view ofcourse. And some really cute tree houses lined up along the hillside. And ofcourse, there was us. All set to ruin the peace that prevailed. All the chattering, the foot fighting and the Daddu handling did attract a lot of attention. But who cares. 

We decided that our next stop would be some lake I don't remember the name of coz I kept sleeping in the car. Yes, I truly was on a vacation. These people did get off and did a few things that they kept talking and laughing about. But I usually avoid blogging about 'heard of' events. So whatever transpired here is off the record.

We came back to our dainty little FairyDale Resort and goofed around some more. Come dinner time and we cllimbed down to this pretty green cottage that was aptly labelled "Mess". Hot, fluffy rotis kept pouring in while I ate and these guys kept count of how much I'm eating. I can't help it. The mountains make me hungry. 

Now we decide to go for a night stroll. Daddu was in a Spooky mood. He was trying to scare us or get scared, I'm still trying to figure out. The noises he made and the grunts that came out were funny than anything else, leave alone eerie. The quiet of the forest beckoned us. Suravi kept clicking away in night mode like a mad woman. The rest of us walked in silence which was interrupted with a few poses, cows interrupting and Daddu growling some more. We lounged around sitting on the road. And Daddu pretended to be a hyperthyroid bat with wings out of my "Dying Destitute" shawl. Kinshu posed like a vain model for every picture that was taken.

We slept well, and woke up to a perfect morning. The sun in our faces, the cool breeze in and out of the woods, the trees spiralling to the skies and hot steaming chai. Well, no chai for me. But the rest of them sipped on. I preferred water. Suravi was irritating us with her camera again but thankfully so. These snaps are the best out of the lot. A hearty breakfast later, we got ready like scchool kids - the bath, et al. We didnt' feel like going back and Suravi and I kept cribbing even as we packed. Now I don't know whether it was the frustration that desperately needed to be vented out or a premeditated plan that was put to action, but I was subjected to what is best described as "Kambal Kutai" and even a video was taken with ample amount of comments thrown in. It was very much on the lines of the Iraqi prisoners of war bein taped while being tortured to death. The best part was when I rose out of the blanket, these galliant soldiers ran for their lives.

As we sobered down, we took from from Fairydale and now the next thing on our minds was a a nice walk down the river bed. So we kept looking for inlets on our way. A long fuss later, we finally managed to find the perfect spot. Now what transpired here makes for another blog entry altogether. So let's honour those events duly. So after the 'enlightening' experience in the stream, we left Lansdowne, drenched in childish glee.

Sleeping, talking, threatening Daddu with a smelly sock if he dozes off and more, we kept going down the plains. A late lunch at some open air restaurent, the same place where Suravi got her Elixir of life, we dozed off like kindergarten kids. It was a long drive back and we were in no hurry to reach. But we did. And I was glad in a way. Coz all good things come to an end. Only to start a few better others.

ROOTED!!

Home is where the heart is. And my heart is stuck. For life I guess. It's not like the city is the best place to live in or anything. It's just that I can't think of any other place that I can proudly call home. 

Indore is warm and cozy. It's just the right size. It's the right combination of a budding metro and a one horse town. Every place is not more than half an hour away from my house and even if one has to go to the other end of the city, one wouldn't take more than an hour. 

The people make the place. I have found the warmest, friendliest, laziest and most laid back people here who believe in living life king size. The top most priority here is to eat and to make people around you do the same. And when it comes to eating, we don't know how to compromise. Dollops of ghee in sleep inducing Baati with steaming Dal, and laddoo, papad, chutney and subji to complement the ensemble is known only to the sweet smelling Malwi soil. SHikanji is not lemonade here. It is a thick creamy concoction of rabdi and milk which can put anyone to sleep for hours. It's a meal by itself. But Indoris have a huge appetite, and how!! 

When it comes to sweets, there's no stopping us. People will reach Mathura Wala's at 11 in the night and eat up one sweet after another. Top n Town is always teeming with icecream fanatics. And one sundae is never sufficient to satiate us. It's as if we have a separate tummy for dessert.

Namkeens are a passing by thing. We are always hogging them. And there is a cornucopia of savouries available to the taste buds here. The variety and the range catered to is overwhelming. 

Indore has evolved into a connoisseur's haven. From succulent kebabs at Kebabsville, Dum Pukht cuisine at Sanchi, grand buffet lunches at Crown Palace, Amaltas and Goefferey's, you name it, we've got it. Although the cosmopolitan culture is setting in and Pizza Hut and McDee's are favourite eat outs, the tangy chaats and the scrumptuous dishes are indispensable from the true Indori's plate. Johnny Hot Dog and Vijay Chaat House are here to stay as much as Ravi ki Kachori. The Moong Badas at LIG and the Gajak at Sheetal are phenomena in their own right.

But more than anything else, its the Indori hospitality that's unbeatable. I have travelled a lot. Nowhere have I experienced the love that is found here. And that's what makes it special to my heart.

The foot with the mole

They say that if you have a mole on your foot, you are destined to travel a lot. I am glad I have one. A Chinese proverb goes that a mile travelled is worth a hundred books. Or something on the same lines. They couldn't be more right. I have always loved travelling. As a young girl, I would look forward to the summer vacation when I would go to Bombay with Ma. The warm, constant chugging of the train, the various goodies at every station and the different flavours, colours and scents of every place would be so intriguing, I would be wide eyed and sleepless all the time just so I could absorb everything. Travelling to Raipur and Bhopal were also very inviting. Changing trains and even seeing the soil change colour from black to red was one of the many things that mesmerized me. 

I have hated flying. Except for the thrill of it all. Your stomach  churns and your ears pop as the plane takes off. You keep yawning so that you don't turn deaf. But when you look out the window, you lose all sense of relative size. The world seems at your feet. Quite literally. Moreover, I have met some pretty interesting people in flights.

Travelling to new places is always an experience that is remarkable in its own right. Every place is unique in its own way. Meeting interesting people, different cultures, varied lifestyles is always the limelight in every trip. And every visit  is a learning experience.

Treks are a different story altogether. When I am walking - wherever it may be I am only listening to myself. That is the time when I get to introspect and clear my head. Listening to the surroundings - the sounds of the forest, I am at peace with life. Also, I get to see different places the Shivaliks, the North East and even the Western Ghats are very distinct and aplenty of rich flora and fauna that is a treat to the eyes.

A train journey could also turn into something very interesting. Once gets to interact with people from different backgrounds. Conversation about anything and everything is a special characteristic of Indian Railways and is more or less like an assured gift that comes with the ticket. Food, ideas and opinions are exchanged openly. I even know a couple that met in a train and are now proud parents of a wonderful son. 

One could spend hours reading about the Taj Mahal and how surreal it is in moonlight. But only when one actually goes to Agra, haggles with the cab driver, gets into the queue for the highly coveted tickets and views the symbol of love in its full glory - moonlight or without, gets a photograph clicked on that trademark bench, and has the world famous Agre ka petha while doing all of this, has one, then experienced the Taj.

Get every opportunity to travel and roam around the world. You don't know what you're missing. The world waits to be explored. And we all know about the story of the frog who refused to hop out of its pond... 

Our campus is set in pristine surroundings – lush greenery all around, the surreal view of the Qutub from the 6th floor and Sanjay Van right across the street. It’s a blessing to have a campus that is so close to nature – quite literally. But one should not forget that nature just doesn’t comprise of harmless plants, innocuous flowers and trees bestowing shade and serenity. A part and parcel of it all is truckloads of creepy crawlies –zooming gnats, wasps, bees and dragon flies, smartly coloured bugs and beetles, lizards, rodents, ants and many more.

They are all very friendly, I am sure they are extroverts of the first order. They don’t shy away from invading your space – be it your room, the study table, the cupboard and sometimes, even your bed. They keep making you feel like you are the intruder in their world and you don’t belong here.

The bumblebees look very pretty only in pictures in children’s books. They are actually very violent creatures and they have proved so by attacking a couple of our batchmates all of whom happen to be very peaceful people. The bees have probably got into the habit of venting their frustration of the hive on us – something we can relate to and identify with ourselves. But that does not give them an alibi to continue turning faces of innocent people into red, swollen lumps. The beehive still stands – proud and resplendent, boasting of the brave sagas of its warriors.
The wasps and beetles may not bite, but they’re harmful nonetheless. They love hanging out on your bed. And they refuse to budge. You hate to hit them with the rolled up newspaper in your hand with fear of having to wash your bed sheet again. You try to flick it and it flies back on your pillow. The only way out is to switch the light off. But lo and behold, now, since the laptop screen is the only glowing object in your room, you actually mistake your F’s for P’s considering the document you are reading is infested with the pesky fliers.

The lizards are abundant and could well form an entire battalion. They keep staring at you from dingy walls and are waiting for their next treat which is always around the corner, quite literally. The worst thing about them is that they are coloured a translucent dull grey which is almost a white, very similar to the colour of the walls of the old hostel, so sometimes you are very close to a wall without even realising that the reptile is a mere foot from you till you see those beady black eyes.

So how does one cope up with living in harmony with the ‘wildlife’ on campus? My friends have tried everything – They are immune to HIT. It’s like cigarette smoke to them. They cross Krazzy Lines as if they were hopscotch marks. Allout works only on mosquitoes. And they are not scared of stomping feet either. So how come I am still standing tall? I think it’s a God Gift. I have bitter blood. It’s not like I don’t get bitten, but TOUCHWOOD, the probability is much lower. Got bitten recently on my eyelid – Suravi says it was more like a bug – lick, whatever that means. It swelled up, looked like a nasty burn and peeled off. I just hope this was the start and the end of my encounters with the miniscule mites.

SO LONG!!

They could easily call me tall. Coz I am that. But no. They are adamant when it comes to the choice of adjective. And they love to call me the long one. Seems like I am some sort of guinea pig in the current state because of a thyroid experiment gone wrong. But I can't helop it. I am long.

This accusation was first inititated by our very own James. He went, "She's so long man!!" And the rest is history. They even attributed my beating them at Table Tennis to my being excessively 'long' and not once did anyone acknowledge that I really struggle to get every point. Suravi actually says it is unfair. Well, all I have to say is that the grass is always greener.... She still does not accept the 510 pact.

So here I am. Long as a reed. I can't help it. I can get shorter or longer. So curse me as much as you can.

Cafe ou The?

It's not like I've never had tea or I'm allergic to it. It's just that I'm not a tea person. Probably because it's just not my cup of, well, u know, or because I don't need it. As simple as that!! But coffee - the aroma, the satisfaction, the froth, the bitterness and the enigma to it captivates me. My preference could very well be because of the fact that coffee has many harmful effects, and tea comparatively scores way better.

So I had a rocking time in Bangalore. Tea costs more than coffee there. A buck more at CKD (Chai ki dukan) - I'll never forget that place. Coffee there used to be 4 bucks - would be bitter to the core - utterly satisfying and dehydrating. Very potent. Very toxic. Very essential. And, yes, a lot did happen over it.

But now that I'm in the capital, tea is omnipresent. Coffee is an expensive option as it is only available at Barista or Coffee Day. And considering my current financial position, I'm a hermit for the next one month. Atleast I hope I am. So now that the campus norms have made sure that we're virtually stranded in campus without any resources to have a hot cuppa and are dictated by the whims of the Mess, I have only one resort to keep awake in class - Have tea.

It's not that bad after all. It's got ginger in it. Reminds me of my office. Plus, it's a God send for my sore throat - everyone on campus doesn't know what I sound like really. Everyone thinks I have a husky voice and they like it - like Phoebe's sexy phlegm. So i'm off icecream for a week. What will power!!

So what say?? Chai ho jaye???

Expensive Feelings

Ma always put us in the habit of making cards for each other. And we've always enjoyed it - writing poems for each other, drawing stuff out, getting something done. The smile one gets is worth all the effort. But there was one time when I had to go and buy a greeting card for someone. Either I didn't have the time/resources to make one, or it was meant to be a li'l not-too-personal. Whatever it was, I went to Archies', I guess for the first time. I was really small, and naive. That time I used to get 150 bucks per month for pocket money, and I used to use it well. So I had my wallet well loaded and I entered the shop full of tinkling, sparkling, enticing stuff.

I picked out the card alright and went to the counter. The old Bohra uncle at the counter packed it up and mumbled "Eighteen". I wasn't sure what I heard so I asked him, "Eighty? or Eighteen?" And he exclaimed "Eighty!! My goodness no!! Eighteen.." And then I knew that greeting cards aren't supposed to cost this much. This was I guess a decade ago.

The other day I walked into Archies' again to pick up a card for Pa for Father's Day. A decent card - Eighty bucks :) Wonder what the old uncle would've said now.

Kohima, Khonoma, 12th May, 2008

We left for Kohima early as usual. The bus ride was uneventful except for the usual clothes being torn by the seats' sharp edges and people drooling on one another. We woke up when the bus halted in front of the War Memorial. I peered out to see the city of Kohima. Sleepy and reluctant, I climbed out of the bus. As I entered the site, the first thing I noticed was the very English feel to the place. The pretty roses and daisies lined up placidly in the shade of the neat rows of the trees seemed to smile at us and our ignorance. The plaques stood at corners commanding our attention. A stone path wound up to the top of the hill like a stairway to heaven.

I walked along noting the various emblems of the regiments, reading the epitaphs. Some written by parents, some by wives, others by friends. Most of the soldiers were in their early twenties. Charlie, 21, who was 'a wonderful boy, loved by all'. Leslie, 24, 'who lived to the fullest and fought his best'. A 25 year old who 'couldn't live to see his baby'.

And then it sunk. These people were my age when they died. Twenty odd years to live. That's it. Life is not made of plans and plans don't make life. Plans never work. All goes down the drain when somethings are just cut out for you. So if you plan and delay gratification, think again. You might just not be around to see those plans work out. If you're cribbing about not having the life you want, work today, better still, now, towards getting it. You've got just one chance. Use it. Forgive and forget. Live your life. Not your age.

I was so engrossed with it all that I didn't realise when Sir called out to everyone to board the bus. I didn't see the rest of them. Later they told me that I missed the regiments where there were Hindu and Muslim soldiers. I'm glad I missed it coz they were even younger.

We went to the museum where there were many interesting things to see. The colours, the jewels, the tools. Fascinating how one small state can have 9 different tribes and all 9 of them, although so close to one another, so varied and different from the others. Many worlds in one.

Next we went to Khonoma. A clean village. Utopian in the true sense. Would love to go and live there, probably take up a teaching job. Everything was so systematic - dust bins at every corner, solar panels, and at the same time tradition upheld - dorms for boys til they reach puberty, traditional pillars as a sign of prosperity if one gives something to the village. We even met a basket weaver who had won the President's award. People found a huge rifle that's carried by 3 people. Many posed with it. I played the dutiful photographer.

We returned to Kohima to the SP's residence where he hosted a royal lunch for us. The setting was perfect. I felt like a delegate at some fancy symposium. After lunch, we hung out at the gardens with a misty view of the city. Empty minds - you-know-who's workshops. The Crusades began - Aditi, Swedyl, the other girls and me on one side while Anish, Dhiren, Mihir (the traitor), Glen, Mini and Lyandra on the other. Priyanjali was the self proclaimed Commander-in-Chief who got whacked too. Akul was the paparazzi who couldn't escape the thrashing either. He even sacrificed his chappals to the noble cause. Sanjay palyed the grandfather till he was threatened. We're still trying to figure out what the cause was though. Can't believe I got dragged into those murky waters.

In the evening we met the Founder of The Naga Mothers Association, Padmashree Angami. It was nice to listen to her, except that I dozed off for a few minutes. The SP had been Sir's student and I saw a picture of him at Indore where he was a student at the Central Instt of Warfare and Tactics. It's a small world.

This was officially the last session and the end seemed closer. Much closer.

Way to Dimapur, 11th May, 2008

We set off from Nameri for Dimapur, Nagaland . We went through Kaziranga, where we spotted a few rhinos. We stopped at a place for chai, which was close to a cattle market. Areen made us rush over there saying that there was a bull fight happening. Anish bought that and we went there only to see two buffaloes in the water slapping each other with their tails. That was all the action there was. Swedyl and Mihir actually went in there and even bargained for a cow being sold for 15 grand.

We moved on, singing more songs, dedicating many more 'Dhinchaks' to a place called Nath where we had Thali for lunch. By afternoon we reached Dimapur.

In the evening, we walked to the ruins of the Kachari tribe. We saw humongous pawns that the kings used to play a chess-like game with. There were pitiable remains of what would have been a grand fort. All in all there was nothing much to see. It pained me because this is the case everywhere you go in the country. We can only boast of the 'rich and varied' culture/heritage, but all evidence is slowly withering away and soon, we won't have anything to show our grandchildren.

After dinner, we played some more UNO and DRAW 4. Swedyl, Mihir and I went to the jinxed room, where bottles kept falling, glass kept breaking, liquid kept spilling and bags kept stinking. It's a long story and some people I know what I'm talking about. Others don't need to know.

When I went to bed, I realised that the trip was ending.

Nameri, 10th May 2008

We woke up at 5 in the morning to the sound of rain. There was no sight of the sun and for a moment it felt like there wouldn’t be forest walk after all. To some it was a relief because, let’s face it, the last few days had been really tiring. We reported at the restaurant in our rain wear and there was the birthday boy, beaming. Sir had specially ordered a cake all the way from Tezpur. A lot of singing and picture clicking later we had breakfast. Amazingly, the rain stopped. We set off for the forest walk. This one wasn’t that arduous. Leeches were omnipresent just like Pakke. But the forest was pleasant and less hostile in many ways.

In the afternoon we were supposed to go rafting in the river. We reached the spot and chose our life jackets. Helped each other put them on and then posed in our yellows and reds for the group photo. We set off in the rafts, four in one. At first it was nothing much to talk about, although the feeling of the water flowing under our feet was lovely. Then when we went over shallow waters, the water splashed over us from everywhere, and that is where the fun began.

Listening to Dylan and soaking in the forest on both sides was sheer bliss. After much cajoling, the rowers finally let us try our hands at the oars for a while. We went haywire but liked it nonetheless. Anish, Dhiren and Deepti got into the water and held on to their rafts. Only Deepti can come up with all this. Hats off to the Talpade siblings.

In the evening we visited the neighbouring village where most of the population belonged to the Mising tribe. We met the chief of the tribe. The jolly good fellow was all smiles. He showed us around his house but did not let us in, saying that his wife wasn't at home. He had a huge farm, cattle and a mini silo. Looking at the rest of the village, this was prosperity. A few goofballs among us couldn't resist cracking 'missing' jokes.

We moved on to another house, where a lady was weaving. We even saw a charkha. We walked further through picture perfect farms. The Assam plains are fertile enough to play host to papaya, coconut, dates and many more varied trees. It was nice to see all of them fruit laden.

We went back to the camp. We had a session on Climate neutrality that set many of us thinking. After dinner, we played DRAW 4 and laughed hysterically. Aditi, Swedyl and I performed that dance for Dhiren, and it was an instant hit. We even played Dumb Charades where the 'Gaanja' episode happened. While playing something struck me - It's amazing how people have so many hidden layers to them, when you get a glimpse of one of them, you see that person in a different light altogether.

To Nameri, 9th May, 2008

We set off for another monastery in the morning. It was bigger than the one we saw before. Two monks, barely 10, looked at us in disdain. They were scandalised when too many people tried to click them. I wondered what their life would be like everyday and what were they thinking when they were seeing so much of colour all of a sudden, with so much city noise dashed in. A sleepy dog made the most of it and got his flea-ful fur cuddled thoroughly. Sir told us more about the place and Buddhism. I saw David pass a tenner to one of the kids. I don’t’ know why but I felt guilty for intruding in the little monk’s home that day. He certainly didn’t want any of us there.

An episode I will never forget was Priyanka’s display of strong abdominal muscles. She made Mini stand on her while she was lying down on the grass. Kudos!! We all cheered. Then our ever-so-enthusiastic CROC stepped up and well, she does have very strong abs. Only we also heard a grunt from the wrong end in the process.

We went through a village called Rupa where some bought prayer flags to take home. I just bought very essential lozenges. We rode back to Balukpong and Hotel Solu welcomed us once again. A good lunch and an intense session n Russel peters by Anish was enough to get rid of my sleep.

We started off for Nameri. After we crossed the Assam border, a few lucky people like me got to ride on top of the bus. It was fantastic – the weather was warm but windy. We sang songs and waved at the villagers. We ducked when there were low lying wires and branches ready to cut us in half. I don’t know when I’ll get to do something like that ever again.

We reached Nameri Tiger Reserve around afternoon. A quiet place with 5-star tents and tree houses, great infrastructure and excellent staff. We oohed and ahead at the rooms we got and set off again on for for a small river walk. The river Bohrelli is not as calm and clean as Kameng.

We came back and washed up. In the evening, we had a session with one of Sir’s ex-students, Chombe. He had a lot to tell us about the real scenario in Arunachal Pradesh. It was quite an eye-opener. What ran through my head then was that setting up a school here wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
The next day was Dhiren’s birthday. So the guys came to our tent and blew up a few balloons. Anish was our supervisor and we were very handicapped elves. Sitting in the lawn gazing at the stars in the constant insect creek almost put me in a daze. We slept off after wishing Dhiren. Since Aditi was fast asleep, we postponed our performance by a day.

Eagles’ Nest, 8th May, 2008

We were ready at day break to board three jeeps. We were going to stuff ourselves in the jeeps and some would even get to hop on top of them. Aditi, Lincy, Swedyl and I wasted no time and saved seats for ourselves on top of one of them. Nadia joined us and so did Vicky. The ride was fun. Too bad I couldn’t get any pictures on the way because it was quite bumpy. Three high prayer flags that went up to the clouds urged me to get my camera out but personal safety and Aditi said otherwise. We grabbed on and sang songs all the way. My sore throat was irritating me. Couldn’t sing. Couldn’t talk. In the meantime Aditi and Swedyl choreographed to ‘Yeh Ishq Hai’ and within minutes a performance was ready. As we climbed higher, it got nippier and hazier. We were moving in clouds. Thank god I had my jacket on which by the way I didn’t take of all day. The ride ended when Vicky spotted a flat in our jeep. So we got off and tried to warm ourselves. There were a few bamboo sticks lying around in the clearing and someone came up with the brilliant idea of trying out the bamboo dance. As it turns out, I suck at it. Guess Anant’s right about the problem in my wiring – mind to limb coordination.
After a while we saw people of another jeep walking up to us. Theirs ran out of gas. So the third goes done to the town to get the tyre fixed and get more fuel. So much for conveyance. So we all start off on foot. But I am really glad we got to walk that day because it was breathtaking. Moss laden trees, dinning birdsong, bugs and beetles splashed with colour and silence. A few of us ended up walking an extra mile too. After some rest and a few things from Sir about various birds like Yuheena, Drongo, etc, we walked back. One jeep was now supposed to come back with our lunch. We caught sight of it at 4 and was that a relief! Lunch in makeshift tents in the rain on the mountain, who could’ve thought of that! We finally returned to the hotel, dead tired.

Balukpong – Tenga, 7th May 2008

Had breakfast at Hotel Solu and loaded the bus to set off for Tenga. On the way we were to go to the Orchid Reserve at Sessa. But the bus and the bus driver were very daft and we were very slow. The climb was steep and it had to happen once. The clutch plate was conked and the bus broken down. So we set off on foot up the road. It was a steady climb and a little tiring for a few. We must have walked around 3 kms to Sessa. This was a beautiful valley surrounded by cloud covered mountains. Some had tea while others had photo sessions. There were a few like Swedyl and Aditi who had both. The bus arrived all repaired at Sessa and we got on it again.

The plan for the Orchid Reserve was postponed for the time being. On the way there was an actual waterfall to Anish’s delight. And yes, he was the first one to get in. People followed suit promptly and within minutes we had a bus full of dripping, shivering, screaming people. There were some people who opted out but most were game. I think the pictures taken here are the best.

We continued for Tenga and stopped for lunch at a place where they had graciously let us into their kitchen, that had a table full of steaming cabbage soup and fresh steamed momos. The room was hot and we all huddled up. I stood right in front of the fire and a few others lined up too. The heating session worked wonders. After the manna-like lunch we wound our way through more cloud laden mountains to Tenga. We saw the military establishments, all prim and proper. Cadets waved at us while our noisy bus zoomed past them.

We reached the hotel, sorted things out and again set off for a monastery nearby. It was a small Gongpa, but calming nonetheless. The prayer flags fluttered in the twilight as if they were cajoling the wind to go slower. The bowls of water offered every day to the Gods, the seven elements symbolised at various points, the significance of the Lotus made sense to me for the first time. Seeing all those things has made me curious about Buddhism and am going to read up as much as I can get hold of about it. We spent quality time in and around the place and walked back to the hotel. Had dinner, played UNO and slept off – all worried about how one is to get up the next day.

Balukpong , 6th May 2008

We got up early and reported on time. Well, that was the case everyday but since this was the first day, I felt like a cadet getting up to the bugle. We trekked down a few minutesalong the highway and into the woods, where there was a pleasant din of birdsong. On the way Sir showed us the all-familiar Teak, Brack and Balsam. Sir caught hold of an earthworm which reminded me of my science classes in school. Was itching to sprinkle some salt on it. Didn’t though, everybody would’ve disowned me. An Ample amount of lovely butterflies were treating the eyes as well. Saw a courtship of brilliantly purple coloured butterflies. It was as if they were tied together with an invisible string. They were together, and in sync, yet apart from each other, as if they’re respecting each others’ space. On the way back we ran into a local who was carrying an ‘ara’ also known as a ‘dao’ in other parts. It had a langoor skin holder. Swedyl almost escaped being beheaded when we asked the guy to pose with her with it. I guess he could’ve easily got carried away. On the way Aditi, Swedyl and I saluted every army truck that went past us. They were delighted to see three girls saluting so seriously. We did a good job I guess, except for the fact that one officer did not salute back but waved at us like a girl.

After a hearty breakfast, we crossed the serene waters of Kameng river to reach Pakke Tiger Reserve. As we crossed the river in a rickety boat, some of us were all nerves considering that the boat could capsize any minute. Glen in our boat was as taut as a reed whenever we tilted. On the other side of the river, we saw an elephant. It belonged to the forest officials. The enthusiastic ones among us went up to it, clicked pictures and took a second hand interview of the elephant through the mahoot. He was going to be our escort for the day. His name was very aptly, Major Gulab Singh. I couldn’t help but notice the irony in that name. I prefer calling him Gulabo. The officials kept warning the kids to keep a safe distance from Gulabo, because visibly, he was in heat and very restless.

When the entire group was on the other side in one piece, we began our forest walk. It was a pleasant, cloudy day. The forest was very dense, moist and intimidating. The trail looked well used, but treacherous nevertheless. Sir gave us strict instructions not to keep any gaps in file and to be absolutely silent. And surprisingly so, we did obey well. I just wish that some of us would’ve avoided using sprays as well. It may have increased our chances of spotting something. The walk was pleasant and not very tiring for most people. Most of us were concentrating on the leeches too. So I guess it deviated their minds from the exhaustion. Although it was not very hot, the tropical setting made us sweat like pigs and dehydrated us almost like the leeches with salt on the. People who were right behind Gulabo were subjected to intermittent wind passing and other tantrums on the way. Avid birdwatchers spotted a pair of hornbills and an eagle. When the hornbills flapped their humungous wings, I could actually hear the whooshing. Wonder what it would be like with an albatross then. May be the hornbills knew how important they were as we were watching them in awe. That’s why they gave us such a majestic show. We even heard wild elephants from a safe but disappointing distance. Sir showed us a dung beetle. Had only seen those on Discovery channel. Pretty orchids dangling on here and there reminded me of how the contrasts of the forest are so blatant. Calm one moment, wild the next. Although we didn’t spot any animal, Gulabo himself hogged the limelight.

After the forest walk, we went back to the other side and to the waterfront for lunch. The Kameng flowed harmlessly while we enjoyed a well deserved treat. After lunch, we ended up disrupting the dinning calm by playing a game of Dog-n-the-Bone. But I have no regrets because my team won. Ok, arguably won. When we were about to leave, Sir asked us to spend some time in quiet. It really helped me sort things out in many ways on different levels.

There was a heated discussion and serious ear pulling over a so-called waterfall which was a drain according to Sir. Anish stood by his argument that it was much more than that. Areen added fuel to the fire.

We came back to the hotel. Some of us dropped dead while others wanted to explore more. We went to the market, had momos, bought a few things – chocolates, all-important shampoos, etc. Some even bought canvas shoes and camoflage pants and flaunted them around. After dinner, a few of us took a night walk down the river bed. As we walked, we saw fireflies lined up along the way, lighting up as we passed them, as if showing us the way. We lay on the cool, moist sand and gazed at the clear starry sky. I could hear nothing but the water flowing. I could’ve stayed there all night.

We came back and crashed. All set for Day 2.

The train journey : 3, 4, 5 May, 2008

As we entered Assam, everything turned green. The arid and hot winds turned into a cool breeze. The yellow disappeared and picture perfect landscapes adorned the window. Ducks lined up in ponds, sleek boats in rivulets in siesta, young lads swimming in wild waters, men gong to work riding bicycles in single file – these were common sights. The train stopped somewhere for a long time. And I looked out the window to see a lone woodcutter, his skin glistening in the naked sun, atop a tree, chopping away, as if he doesn’t care two hoots about the heat or the deafening stillness of the forest. The train left only after he was done.

Ever time the train was stopping at stations for a long time. We were getting down and playing silly games on the platform. Quite a sight for everyone around.

There was something that pricked though. At every railway crossing I saw army convoys, tanks and trucks lined up, not letting you forget. So between sips of the tangy, mellow and red ‘lalcha’ I saw Assam welcoming me into the unknown, enigmatic North east.

Ignorant Intolerance

Did they really write in blood?? I doubt very much. And even if they did, why? Does a petition undergo value addition if it's written in red? But what disturbs me most is that they did many more things than just 'silent protests'.

Ashutosh Gowarikar spent three years of his life making a film. Big deal. He's a film maker. That's his day job. But more than three years, he has also put in his money and probably his heart into it. He read all the history he could lay his hands on. He researched extensively. He even approached the royal family of Amer before he started off with the project just to make sure that he doesn't go wrong anywhere, that he doesn't hurt anyone's sentiments. And only when the film is just about to be released the Karni clan wakes up out of hibernation and ensures that this man suffers heavy losses. First of all, where were they all this time, when the promos were being aired for months? Secondly, which part of the Rajput's "aan-baan-shaan" is being slandered?

Okay so the whole fracas is about Jodha being Akbar's daughter-in-law and not wife. So let's delve into the matter some more. History states that Akbar was married to Amer's princess. And she was known by many names. Historians wrote only about the men in those times because the queens were always in closed quarters. Also, Jehangir, Akbar's son was married to Joda (mind the spelling). But this lady wasn't from Amer. So there is no room for a mix up in the first place.

There is history on one hand and on the other is the world of folklore, myth and legend, which is always more colourful, more fascinating. And is one's making a film, why not make one over folklore. If only history is to be accounted, go ahead, make a documentary. Anarkali wasn't history. But the story was gut wrenching. So the film was a hit. Jodha bai is a widely accepted name for Akbar's queen from Amer. So why can't people live with it and give the film a fair chance at the box office?

I watched the film a few days ago. I wasn't going to. But when they stopped screening it under pressure, that was when I made it a point to go to the theatre and contribute my small bit. I did not like the movie. But I liked some aspects of it.

I want everyone to go and watch this film so that it actually is a hit. That will atleast shut a lot of people up. Moreover, next time some so-called social-activists or cultural groups plan to raise their voices just so they appear on national television, they'll think twice.

I saw how the head of the Karni clan got rogered on NDTV Big Fight. Everyone extended their support to Gowarikar. But to what avail? The film has already suffered.

I also read an article recently by Shashi Tharoor that talks about one of the most externally tolerant civilizations of the world turning internally intolerant. Well, that's a scary thought. But it's happening. My next blog maybe :)