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...