Daku Dd`s tales

Birthday Rewind- Replay the grand times

2012-01-26T09:00:00.000-08:00

Every year when I get close to my birthday,the most common thing that flashes in front of my mind are those wonderful memories of the birthdays gone by, so i thought it would be nice to rewind and recollect those beautiful memories.
In the Shah household in Anand Vihar, the Birthday was considered a really big event,I don’t know if it had anything to do with the fact that my father and his siblings never really had the opportunity to have grand birthday celebrations so they wanted to fulfill it by celebrating my birthday or whether it was to do with my aunt( Bhuji) who herself was quite an enthusiastic soul.

The Actual Birthday

By far this still remains my favourite birthday story, and this has been so well narrated to me by my Dad, that even today, when he is not with me, his words echo in my ear. It was a dark winter night 21 Jan 1982 to be precise,Pa was already tired and frustrated with the fact that I wasn’t coming out, He had made Ma walk for more than an hour in the balcony of the Purandare hospital(where i was to be born) facing the Queens Necklace,without any success. Having given up on getting any result that day, Pa decided to take my Masi and Masa out for a snack. They walked out of the hospital got my Masi to have strawberry milkshake at Bachelors, this is the first time she ever tasted strawberries, and she loves them now, and thanks my Dad for introducing her to strawberry milkshake. Masa and Masi leave, Pa then walks down to the Ideal Corner restaurant, grabs a beer and then decides to unwind by getting his favourite Malish on the chowpatty beach. As the masseur massaged his tired legs and head he starred at the stars and wondered in amazement how his first child would be.He wished it would be a girl,a girl who he could design exquisite dresses for, a girl who he could weave all his dreams into.Pa had always wanted his first child to be a daughter for some reason. At the end of that relaxing malish session,it was almost quarter past midnight and Pa thought it was a good idea to just drop by at the hospital before he went home just incase there was some development. Indeed Ma, had got her labour pains, and Pa was standing right next to her, the reluctant fool, I was I just wasn’t willing to come out, finally I did and when the doctor announced it was a girl, Pa just could not help but jump up in excitement,while my Nani (Mom`s Mother) who still subscribed to the old school thought in the 80`s, was quite grim with the addition of another granddaughter in her family. This episode ensured the famous Malishwalas had earned themselves a role in my birth story, but Pa, who himself was connoisseur of Champi Malish,ensured that I was introduced to the craft, as he would always Malish my head with oil.When I was kid I hated it, coz I hated putting oil in my hair, but when I was in college I liked it, it seemed so nice as it calmed my tired nerves, and then when I longed for it, my Malishwala, Pa was not there anymore and the magic of his champi fingers will remain only as beautiful memory in time

Pudding`s Birthday

My first birthday cake said 'Happy Birthday Pudding'(Pudding was my pet name) I was literally arranged like a pudding in our fruit basket so that i could be seated to cut the cake and as all my cousins, uncle aunts, and family friends gathered at Anand Vihar A wing terrace to witness that grand moment of cutting my first birthday cake, i had a rather grim expression, as seen in the photographs. I am told it was quite a grand celebration, while my uncle and aunts spent the morning and afternoon blowing balloons and decorating the terrace,our favourite cycle idli wala treated all those lovely idlis and mendu vadas, which wel all savoured on Sunday`s at Anand Vihar Also the family tradition continued as Vimu Dadi and Dadi made my first birthday dress a lovely white frock. I am told they stitched a frock even for Bhuji`s birthday

The Kiddie Birthday parties (Age 1 to 8)

There had always been a lot of fuss about my birthday, days before my birthday, Dadi would start looking through design books and begin stitching a new dress for me for my birthday. Menus would be discussed days in advance, ideas for return gifts get shortlisted and sometime papa would decide to bake a cake. From a lovely chocolate bridge to a house, to a shoe house all have made it to one or other of my birthday parties, all baked and designed by Pa. I still remember making him a baker hat with a greeting card and singing the famous rhyme Pat a cake as he would be busy making the cake i would trouble him a zillion times by asking” Papa when will the cake be baked, when can i eat it’’ and he would silently reply Beta patience rakho, cake takes time to bake. Apart from the highlight being the cake, another thing i did as a kid is when we would organise a birthday at Siddharth hotel, i would nicely go round and invite everyone and anyone who i even faintly knew in the building so that i would get more birthday presents. Opening and counting birthday presents was one of my favourite things. I still remember my 8th birthday, coz Mom was not there, and Papa gifted me my first Barbie doll( I had numerous other dolls, but only one Barbie doll in my lifetime). Having a Barbie doll was a big thing in those times.

The Exclusive birthday parties

As i grew older, my birthday parties graduated from being snack parties to lunch and dinner parties, as my dotting parents went out of their way to layout the most scrumptious lunch and dinner for my friends. Starting from the most popular party menu`s of the household of samosas, biryani and chole puri, to ragda pattice, Shahi paneer etc. One time Pa and Ma cooked up an exclusive Chinese menu with Sweet corn soup, American chopsuey, fried rice and Manchurian. The exclusive item on the menu was steamed wantons and momos which was quite exotic for our time, as popular Chinese restaurants in India had still not introduced this item on their menu Ofcourse the most memorable one is the last birthday I spent with Papa. We had moved to Kandivali, i was in my second year of degree college, for some reason after so many years he decided to bake my birthday cake and put up a lovely chat party for my friends. I have not eaten a better cake then that in so many years, because it was made with Pa`s secret ingredient his passion and love to feed people.

The Birthdays after 2001

Some how after Pa left us I never was too excited about celebrating my birthday, although i must salute my Mom`s enthusiasm to keep the celebration part alive, as less then a month after pa passed away was my birthday and she cooked up my favourite meal of mutter paneer and Biryani. That was an emotional birthday, coz as i came home from college and silently ate that meal, i could not believe my Mom had decided to keep behind her sorrow and ensure that i didn’t miss my father` s absence on my birthday. I had unconsciously started following Pa`s philosophy that a birthday was not a celebration, as you were loosing one year of your life. But as the years passed by, mom and my dear friends ensured that i brush of this morose philosophy of mine and have a gala time. There was this one time when Mom was in USA, that 4 of my best friends just hijacked my house while i was at work with a key from my building friend and cooked up a party meal and invited 25 of my friends for a surprise party on my terrace. That was one of the most sweetest and memorable birthdays of my time. Then there were the other birthdays where i invited a whole lot of people home and treated them to Mom`s lovely khanna.

My first birthday party after marriage was also interesting a surprise birthday party put up by my inlaws at a banquet hall. From then on we always celebrated my birthday at exotic restaurants and my husband ensured we carry back some cutlery from the restaurant as a memory each year. However one of the most romantic celebrations, which actually looked like a scene from a Yash chopra movie, which honestly even i couldn’t believe was this one time, where the husband spent hours arranging and lighting the candles to say happy birthday ( we spent countless days trying to get the candle wax out of the floor) and gave me heart shaped orchid bouquet.All in all it feels good to look back birthday lane as i have been blessed with a wonderful family and lovely friends who have ensured i have a blast.

Thank you, every one who have been a part of this wonderful celebration for me at some point of time or other and helped me create wonderful memories for a life time

Bandra 50

2011-09-08T04:27:00.000-07:00

For almost about 18 years of my life Bandra 50 was my world.Even today when i am im Bandra I feel so much at home, as I have spent my child hood years walking or cycling through each and every lane. Each road and lane has a memory for me.

Bandstand
Back then in the 80`s Bandstand was like a beautiful island with lovely mansions, a few sky scrapers, a lovely garden and our favourite the sea rock hotel. It was calm and peaceful. I think as a kid my grandpa made atleast one trip a week to Bandstand in his Red fiat car, right outside that little garden next to the Café, used to be pets on display for the kids to watch and pony rides on a red carriage. Those lovely evenings for me would only end after bitting into some hot butta( corn) which I truly loved or icecream candy.
The searock hotel was another favourite. With Dada having many of his company officers visiting him from abroad, we often visited this hotel,I loved going there in Christmas to see the lovely decorations.Unfortunately the Sea rock hotel does not exist any more, but I did get an opportunity to stay in this wonderful property before it was demolished

Bandra fort
I remember discovering the Bandra fort one morning on my summer holidays when I was probably 12 or 13 walking to Bandstand, I was dead tired that day having walked and when I walked up through the structure of the fort onto a little mountain and saw the worli sea face on the other side and a temple, I almost felt like I had accomplished a big mission, and from then on every time I had cousins and friends over I have taken them to showcase the Bandra fort. The amphitheatre came on much later, but I never happened to go there for a play

Hill road
Hill road was one of my favourite roads in Bandra, coz of the variety of shops it had. Moving out of Bandstand towards Hill road, the first pit stop would be the Hearch Bakery where we would get the 8 shaped dinner rolls, the veg pattice and other savouries. The now famous Hearch burger was not discovered then. The American express bakery across the road was popular in the house for brown bread. The A1 bakery was the place we only visited if we didn’t find bread in the other 2 bakeries
Moving further on the left you would find the Gazebo restaurant, which was another favourite with the family, it now has been converted to a upmarket supermarket called Nature`s basket. The Sacred Heard school has been my 10th standard exam centre. I remember eating the pani puri at Kailash parbat opposite sacred heart, it used to be a quite a deserted road devoid of the traffic and noise that exists today.
The cheap jack store for gifts, birthday cards and needle work items, mulchand store for its imported goods and the Balaji restaurant for a quick idli and pavbhaji snack. The Bambi laundry, Hitlon the only upmarket store of our times, the energee stall of Sarita doodh centre, wax house, the maze called Elco market with a zillion shops, and the road side pani puri outside elco were all part of some wonderful memories of Hill road.
The new talkies theater has now been converted into an upmarket department stall, while the old post office next to it still reminds me those days when I would buy greetings cards and stand in line to post them to my family abroad.

Bazzar Road and chapel road
The road parallel to the hill road was refered to as the Bazzar road and chapel road. I was very fascinated by this tiny road, which had something different to see on each corner and by lane. I always walked through that road looking at small Portuguese villas on either side with loud English music blaring through the windows, residential buildings, the chawls. I even remember spending a few summer afternoons in one of those chawls where our cook stayed. She would take me to her place in afternoon and I would spend the afternoon playing in the verandah of that chawl. In my memory it seemed like a very clean place. We also went there during Navratis, in a particular community area where my dad would sing the traditional garbas

Turner Road
This was a again a quiet road with some beautiful bunglows, shops, and few sky scrappers. I usually walked through this road on my way to school. The Taj & crossiants cake shop was one of our favourite shops for bread, cakes and pastries. That corner has now been replaced with an array of food joints like Lemon grass, Gloria jeans etc. The Taj has been replaced by Birdy`s. Moving further next toe Tavaa, there used to be a grocery store called Benze, which was the place we ordered our stuff from. The shop still exists.

Moving forward on that road, some of the small bunglows have been demolished to make way for large gold jewelery shops and sky scrappers. I still remember walking through this road looking at those wonderful bungalows. At the crossing of waterfield road after Moti Mahal there used to be a famous Chinese joint called stomach, a place we ordered a lot of take away, it still exists but in a smaller avtar. Next to stomach there used to be pastry shop called oven fresh. I remember celebrating the exams over treat over some lovely sandwiches at this place. Over the years it changed to another cake shop, a gelato parlour and now a designer store. Opposite stomach used to be a premier icecream store of my time Dollops, It stayed there for a couple of years till it was converted to Dosa Diner, and now a Ritu kumar shop.

Moving forward on that road closer to the right turn for St Martin`s road stood some lovely villas, some of them have been demolished, while some villas who have resisted the big bucks still stand there well maintained reminding you of the good old days. The Tutkuks restaurants opposite Mala Sinha`s house was a favourite at our house. I still remember those visits with my grand pa to parcel some takeaway.

St Martins Road
As you walk into this lane from turner road on the left is Mala Sinha`s house, not in the best of its health, moving forward is the St Martin`s Nursing home on the right. I can never forget this place, many visits to the child specialist here. Not much has changed at The Raheja college. But the buildings in this lane have either been demolished and rebuilt or raised. One such bunglow next to Sterling building I still remember. There used to be an old uncle in that bunglow on the first floor, as I went to school in the morning, he would be sitting at the window with his cup of tea and would wave and smile at me as I went to school. That bungalow doesn’t exist anymore.

Dr Ragunath Marg
On the left on the turning of Dr Ragunath marg stands the vyamshala, not much has changed here. The small garden where I did go to play, and also center of Navratri celebrations. For some reason it looked much smaller to me. The vyamshala as the name suggests was also a exercise centre for local body builders, our balcony in Anand vihar overlooked the exercise area, and I completely was thrilled calling them names and then hiding in the balcony. Happy Home, Savita building and now revamped Woodlands all seemed like a community. We almost new every one in every single building. The Navratri festival was also organized in a manner that each building has the garba each day. So that way all building`s could host the garba.
The sharmas staying in Woodland were known for their Holi celebrations. The wild holi parties of Woodland building were quite popular.

Anand Vihar
Opposite Woodland stands Anand Vihar, our house, As I look at it today, it looks like a haunted building, Most of the windows are shut, there are hardly any children playing in the compound. Leakage fixing marks all over the building it seems like its on a dead bed.

But few decades back, this building had bloomed with fresh paint, and ignited with lights to celebrate weddings, hosted New year parties on the lovely mosciac terrace, and burned the old man on the water tank to bring in the new year. Carol singers had spread the Xmas joy by singing in the xmas carols in the building foyer and later visited each home to collect donations for charity. The building gates had welcomed many girls and middle aged women who wished to sharpen their homely skills or simply learn something new at the famous stitching, sewing, and knitting classes run by Vimuben, the lady instrumental in bringing our family to Anand vihar

Plum cakes, xmas savouries Diwali mithai`s and chakri`s tucked in plates and covered with hand knitted plate covers had exchanged houses in the festive season. A zillion games of four corners, badminton, chor police and more had been played in this building ground by children like me who had played and itched them in their childhood memories for ever. This building had also given me an opportunity to try out my entrepreneur skills as kid, where I had put up my study desk and displayed handmade envelops and boxes for sale right under that coconut tree at the entrance of the gate.

As I stood outside that same building, it seemed like it needed a new life, it had done its job of painting wonderful memories to all those who lived here, it was probably time to get a new canvas.

Bandra Talao Area
The Bandra Talao is now a dirt dumping ground but few years back it has been developed to be a promising tourist attraction. They had got peddel boats and it was indeed a pleasure boating there the few times that I ever did. The National library and Gandhi seva mandir were other frequently visited places.

Nandi Gali
The Nandi gali the small lane opposite the Bandra talao which directly takes you to the Bandra station was a lane I was very fascinated by. It had and still has a lot of shady bars, a great lane for people watching. One of my desires was to take my friends and watch a movie in the infamous nandi theatre, however I was not very successful in it, as they agreed to come and diverted me to eating malpua at the Noor dairy opposite the theatre. I remember as teenager my dad has told me about the dance bar, and what happens there. I remember him telling me that Asha is a dance bar and he had also educated me that all restaurants which state bar and restaurant could be dance bars. Asha bar still exists in this lane. Almost towards the end of this lane is Mahavir sales agency, the wholesaler for chocolates and biscuits. As a kid I had made many visits to this shop

Bandra Station
As you walk out of Nandi Gali, you come right outside Bandra Station. Right opposite is the old ticket counter, which has been closed and converted like a art gallery with a few paintings of Bandra station. It was from here that I bought a ticket to make my first journey alone on the western railway

Discovering Dharavi

2010-02-02T22:36:00.001-08:00

My first impression of Dharavi, as a child was that it was a place to buy leather goods.We often passed this route on our way back from our favourite breakfast joint in Matunga.I remember dadaji, taking me to this place,and buying me probably my first expensive leather bag. It was for 450 ruppes

It was only when I read Kalpana Sharma`s book Rediscovering Dharavi, when I got a whole new perspective on Dharavi, and on it being such a big industry in the middle of the city, so that time onwards, I have always wanted to visit this slum, finally after weeks of trying to convince people to come along we finally took the Dharavi, Reality tour.

Reality tours is a company which organizes tours of Dharavi, markets of Mumbai, Dhobi Ghatt, Kamathipura etc . Any one can take the tour on their own too, Its just 400 bucks per person,

Dharavi Diary
At 9:30a.m we arrive at Mahim Station. I tell my friend, I wonder how we will spot the guide.There were couple of firangs standing there, too, so he told me be assured we are in right place, considering there are so many firangs over here, they would definitely be taking the tour. The guide arrived in Reality tour T-shirt, he told us to wait a couple of minutes, before he took the five of us. Two of them were foreigners and it was 3 of us Desi .
We walked with Sunil over the common bridge of Mahim station, before he began the tour he gave us some statistics on the no of people who stay here etc, and instructed us to not take pictures. He told us they had the required police permission

Industries we visited

Plastic Recycling Industry
This is one of the biggest industries in Dharavi. This is exactly the place you can find your old broken doll, the plastic coverings of your television/ remote/ computer. Any thing that has some bit of plastic. The plastic is sorted out, every metallic part in it is removed. Once its sorted its put into a crushing machine, where its formed into minute granules. They look like small beads in varied colours which are kept to dry on the terraces. We walked up 2 storeys of one such terrace made out of patra metal strips which was little scary. I was worried, and hoped not to break the patra terrace and also come down with it . Thank fully I survived, and so did the terrace.
After this beads are dried for sometime they are again put in a machine melted and a single uniform colour is put in to form single coloured granules which are used in industries. Well the fumes that we inhaled and what this workers inhale is nothing less than dangerous. I could smell the carbon in the air. Its really sad that some of the biggest industrialists who own industries here, don’t live here, they live in Malbar hill and the expensive neighborhoods of Mumbai, one of owners had a 7 series BMW, he had discreetly hidden it behind one of the garages. There is no workers safety, they have huge health risks. It amazes me how people work here, and survive, with so many movies being made, NGO`s working here, why doesn’t anyone raise an alarm about one of the most atrocious types of Human labour in our city

Clothing & bakery
Our next stop was a small bakery. Over 100 kg of Khari biscuits are made and sold every day. There was a beeline of bakery walas outside his small 3 room industry, where khari biscuits and pav, are churned out every hour of the day and night.The clothing industry was probably one of the industries with the safest working conditions. Men sat peacefully working on their machines, trying to finish as many pieces as possible, as they would be paid according to the job work

Leather industry
As we walked out of one of the slum schools, I saw a huge truck piled with stacks and stacks of goat/cow skin. After seeing that image I have vowed to never buy anything of leather. My friend Christina tried, to calm me down by telling me that it was just a by product after they killed animals for meat. However I will continue to use the leather bag I have, coz I have already committed the sin, but wont buy anything new

Kumbhar Vada
The potters quarters, this was one of favourite stops. Apparently over 100 Kumbhar families live here. They make pots in various shapes and sizes. But interestingly the mud comes in trucks from Gujrat. If you give them a sample of any cutlery they can mould and make it for you. I have personally purchased a mud clay dinner set with glasses, couple of years back, and it continues to me one of my favorite crockery possessions

Apart from this we all saw some packing industries, where soap is weighed and packed, Currogated boxes, are made to order according to requirement or old ones are repaired and resold. The recycling of Paint boxes and big oil cans and home industries of papad

What is amazing is a the cultural amalgam that this slum houses, There is one section which is the muslim ilaka, one which is south indians, the maharashtrians, the kumbhars. There are couple of mosques & temples .Our guide tells us that after the riots things have become low key, and all communities don’t interact as before. The houses that people live in our really small less than 100-200 sq feet. It amazes me on how their entire life fits in so well, right from their living room, kitchen, television all in that one little place. Houses are located in small tiny little lanes, if I lived here, I am sure I would have been lost trying to find my home

The real problem is for children, there are schools in the slum, but even parents who earn enough to send their kids to better schools cant do that, coz the minute they see Dharavi in the address, they stop accepting the admission form, so they try to put sion or mahim in the address

About the Guide
Our guide, Sunil was very interesting guy. He spoke good English and he himself lives in a slum in Mankhurd. He came back to Mumbai to study and work. He finished his 12th, worked with a pizza chain, a call center, managing a chai shop, till he read about this job, and has been working here for the past 6 months. The fact that he himself lives in a slum, he is able to give a better picture to all of us. He seemed like a really hardworking boy, I do wish him all the best, and hope he succeeds in whatever he does.

To get more some more insights buy the book Rediscovering Dharavi

Or read Sattus blog http://www.bombaylives.com/index.php/dharavi-reality-tour.html

To take the tour vist http://www.realitytoursandtravel.com/privatelongtour.html

Ba`s Muthias

2010-01-23T21:34:00.000-08:00

The Muthia, a shallow steamed and oil baked delicacy is a family food legacy, coming from my grandmothers` mother, Lili Ba. This is something I discovered recently.Originally in the normal gujrati way Muthia is first steamed and than cut into pieces and then put into a pan, tadka is layed on these pieces. This is something I only discovered when I got married, coz that’s how my mother-in-law made it. So when I told her this was not the muthia, we made, she looked puzzled. From the time I grew up, my imagination of muthia was the big round dumplings with delicious fillings steamed and slightly brown on the sides. Over the years I had shared this delicacy with friends and collegeous at work, and they had all cherished it and wondered what it was, coz they hadn’t heard of this kind of gujrati delicacy in their life. Although they had picked up muthia`s from the shop, but it did not resemble anything like this

The Great Discovery
Obviously all these years, I had no interest in cooking, so I had never bothered to ask my mom or grand mom about the muthia, but one morning, I really wondered who had invented this dish, or was is a traditional food of our community. My Mom quickly replied, this is Lili ba`s invention. Lilavati ba is my grandmothers mother, all her grandchildren, including my parents and their siblings vouched about her great cooking skills, and how she had taught them to eat karela and all. I always thought her food was the typical gujrati, which I never would never have been interested in anyways, but I discovered today that one of my favourite gujrati snacks, the Muthia was invented by Lili Ba
Dadi, tells me, that every one in the family was fond of this muthia, it was the quickest snack to make, she made various combinations, from kothmari muthia, which she had made for Dadi, and Sudhin uncle one evening, when she was running late to go home. She even made it for dinner sometimes as her husband, popularly known as Bhai also cherished it

Why was it invented?
I really wonder why Ba, invented this recipe. One thought is considering she had a such a large family( 11 children) and various cousins children’s or cousins, she thought this would be a great idea, to cut the cooking time, and the result was a new delicacy. I don’t know when she invented this, but maybe some of you from the choksey family might remember so, I can add on to it

Variations in the dish
I have no idea, how many of Ba`s children and their families, still make this delicacy, but I can tell you that Dadi and My Dad have gone out of the way to take this delicacy across the world.
Dadi invented the American version of Muthia, in manner of the baked muthia, put all the ingredients in the bowl and bake it in a oven, they come out like small pieces of cake, taste is same, only more presentable.This is very famous in Memphis and good knows how many parts of United states.People across the world love this. They have taken recipes from dadi and made it
Papa loved to experiment so he made muthia`s of various kind, ranging from mixed vegetable, to palak and more

Here is Ba`s Recipe for you all

Ingredients
1 small cup Rava
1 big tablespoon chana atta
Ginger- chilli paste
1 Cabbage grated
1 Onion grated optional
half simla mirch grated
2 tablespoons oil
hing( Asofedia)
Salt
Sugar

For cooking
Tal(Sesame seeds)
Rai( Mustard seeds)
Little oil
Mix all the ingredients above well, into a batter do not add water. Take a nonstick pan, add oil, mustard seeds, sesame, as they crackle, turn of the gas and put it down, make small dumplings of the batter and put it in the pan, let it cook on slow fire, tossel it to the other side, once one side is brown. After both sides of the dumpling are brown cook it for 2-3 mins more and they ready to be served

Drivers Diary -A treasure trove of Interesting tales from across the country and beyond

2009-09-17T01:55:00.000-07:00

A driver always has something interesting to share,having traveled across the length and breath of the country on account of their work.On my trip to Agra from Delhi, I happened to meet one such interesting driver and his travel diary had a plethora of interesting stories, which I am delighted to share them with you all

Road Trip to Pakistan
I never thought an Indian vehicle could drive through Lahore and Karachi and small villages in the middle. But driverji tells us its very much possible, he has driven through Pakistan over 3 times with tourists and has completely enjoyed being in that country.
You need to take your visa from Delhi, and then your car and driver gets a green card, which entitles him to drive through the country. You enter Pakistan via the Attari border near Amristar.The time for such exits is between 10- 11 in the morning. There are 3 customs checks that happen, and then you drive in and reach Lahore, The country side is beautiful. There are similar kind of hotels lik India. Scotters, bikes and cycles are not allowed in Pakistan. It’s a dictorial country, women have the worst leaving conditions. He narrates many instances where women ask people like him and other drivers to take them to Delhi the bijli ka shehar.
He said that the country is pretty much safe, there is no reason too worry about being attacked by anyone, but as every country has good and bad people, if you happen to meet one bad cop or bad person, who happens to harras you, you would consider it as a bad country. He says hiring a innova from a reputed company for 7 days would be enough to cover Pakistan. The damages would be approx 25,000( only travel)

Road Trips
Driverji has been working for over 20 years and has traveled to almost all parts of India, and the neighboring countries, including Nepal, Pakistan and China

Three places you must never visit on a roadtrip( by Driverji)

Kashmir: He said that in Kashmir people are extremely violent. He has had many instances of leaving tourists at the houseboat and when he would return to pick them up, he would be told that they have already gone. Days later, it would be known that the tourist was murdered and his body would be found floating on the water. The house boat owners, or tourists just want to make instant money

Nepal:Nepal is quite a notorious country. The minute they see an Indian number plate on the car, they will break the headlights, damage the car, and if the tourists are inside, would try to steal their goods, or even threaten them or hurt them with weapons

Negro village in Gujarat : Interestingly, I have never heard of this place although I have been to Gir. This is in Sasan Gir, a village full of Negros. Legend has it that the Nawab of Junagarh, brought them as slaves to work for them, another story says that they descended from the earlier times, when the Arab traders brought Abbisynian slaves many many generations ago. However this guys speak gujarati, eat the local food, etc but they look like negros, Africans.
This guys are extremely violent, and because of their poor living conditions can steal anything from you including your clothes

Kokila Van
On the highway , you would pass through an exit for Kokila Van. The driverji smiled and asked me, if I knew what this place was. I smiled replied, is it a village made by Ambani brothers for their mother.
Kokila van is basically a shani vanish place. Basically the story goes that the wife of shani was talking to him, and he didn’t pay attention, so she told him, that whatever you will look at, will get destroyed, that’s why they say ke shani ka graha ho to bhari hota hai.

So if you want to get away from this shani graha, u need to visit the place with your mothers brother on a Saturday, or if u come alone u have to come 7 times. Interesting. Lot of people come here every Friday night

Incentive programs for Drivers by Hotels
Growing up in the cites, we have heard about the various marketing schemes by companies to entice customers to buy their products or even incentive program by companies for their employees, but I had never heard of incentive programs for tourist drivers. Interestingly every hotel ranging from a roadside Dhabba to a five star hotel on the Delhi Agra highway has an incentive program for the driver. They are in various forms

Food commission on Dhabhas- We happened to stop by at a nice Dhabha for lunch. The parathas were scrumptious, and as a gesture to thank my driver for bringing me to this nice place, I insisted he shared the table with me, he was reluctant but i insisted. He had some normal sabji and couple of rotis and I was happy with my one paratha. When the bill came I was shocked to see Rs 300, this was ridiculous, coz even if I went to a udupi restaurant in Mumbai,I would end up paying maximum 150- 200 bucks. I felt cheated, so although I went to the counter and paid the money, I told the owner, that I knew he was cheating me by over charging me. When we sat back in the car, my honest driver returned me some money. I enquired and he said, that he charged you a tourist tariff, and in such cases they give money to the driver, as an incentive to bring tourists to his dhabba. That’s how the stories of this incentive program came out. Whenever drivers stop by at a dhabba, the driver is given free food, or money, and sometimes both. Then he clearly pointed out, the reason he didn’t want to share the table with me, coz anyways his food would have been taken care off. The dhabba owners address the drivers as Ustadji.

Prizes on the number of visits with tourists at the hotel
Some of the more high profile hotels, give the driver free food, regardless of the fact that the travelers dine or not at the hotel. They make an entry of the car no and the driver in their register. So once the car has come 4 times its get a x gift, its come 6 times it gets an x gift. They also distribute free blankets or bags during diwali

Commission on inhouse guests
Most of the good hotels including the Taj, oberoi etc in Agra, give the driver a 300rs allowance on bringing a guest to their hotel, they also give him free food and accommodation

Free accommodation and nominal family accommodation charges for driver
Some of the good hotels like Jaypee palace, if informed earlier, give the driver a room for him and his family at a nominal rate of 200 bucks. He says that the room is as good as the 7000 rupee room we stay in, without the amenities like AC and fridge etc. They also give free food and accommodation for all the drivers who have guests at the hotel.

Anokhi ke Paratha the Indian pizza in Agra
This was the best thing that Driverji introduced me to. Anokhi a small stall, has the best the parathas in the world. He makes them in desi ghee, and they are so well made in texture, better then a thin crust pizza also. Apparently this guy owns all the land in the surrounding, it is located next to ITC in Agra. He has a small stall, but all the drivers from the hotels come to take parcels for their guests. It was the best paratha I have ever eaten, thousands times better than Partha gali in chandini Chowk

This article would be incomplete without thanking Bhuj, from whom I have inherited the wonderful quality of talking to the locals to find out about the local customs and traditions. If it hadn’t been for her, we all would have been

Short stories- 10 William House

2009-02-16T01:26:00.000-08:00

For a long time i have been contemplating about writing a book of short stories, and after reading a post To Blog or not to Blog by my aunt, i realised that in our daily lives itself, there are so many premises we come across, that we can take them and build stories around them.10 William House is my first short story.It is completely fictional,however the seed for the story comes from a rickshaw driver i meet in Allahbad.

10 William House

Abdul lived in the old civil lines area of Allahabad.He was in his late 40`s but his profession as a cycle rickshaw driver had taken a toll on him. His face was full of wrinkles, so were his legs and he looked nothing less than 50 in age.Abdul lived alone in a small slum in a tiny lane in Civil lines. No one knew about the existence of his family. His house was a small room, with hardly any belongings apart from a small transistor radio, an old wooden cupboard, a few vessels and a stove. He liked to begin work early; he would wake up just before dawn, bath and cycle to the railway station.

It was just another day for Abdul; business had not been too good the previous day, so he drove to the railway station on the brink of dawn hoping to get some customers.A lot of trains going to Mughal Sarai and Lucknow stopped at Allahabad station every morning. Allahabad was not really a tourist destination but more of a student’s city.

Abdul reached the station and took a spot at the rickshaw stand. There were just about 2-3 cycle rickshawalas and autorickshaw drivers waiting at the stand. Abdul lived alone, so whenever he meet people he would love to talk. He chatted with Mohan the auto rickshaw driver about the auto rickshaw business, who was proudly telling him how he got fares in the night by ferrying prostitutes to their respective clients or making deals for them.Abdul was a very straight guy,he didn’t like this kind of talk, so he moved away from Mohan and sat on the cycle rickshaw wondering about the ways of this world.

The train arrived and there was spur of passengers coming out. Among all the passengers a girl walked out.She was alone, and she had no luggage accept a big bag hanging over her shoulders.She was looking at some transport she haggled with the autorickshaw guy but he was not willing to come down on the price so she walked further looking for another mood of transport.

Abdul got up from his seat and went and asked the girl
"Bitiya tum Kaha jayogi, University le jayoo"
The Girl replied
"Nahi chacha, muje triveni sangam jana hai, aap kitne paise lenge"
"Bees rupee de dena bitya"
The girl was so charmed by his mannerism of talking that she instantly agreed to the ride without haggling on the price

The girl was a backpacker and she had come to see the Triveni Sangam and after that look around the city and board the bus to her next stop Lucknow.

As Abdul drove her through the tiny streets of Allahabad, she asked him about the specialty of Allahabad and house of Amitabh Bacchan. Abdul was more than delighted to tell her about Allahabad.She was thrilled to see those beautiful old British bungalows. He told her how life was different then, how the Britishers moved around in horse buggies.Infact his father worked for a very famous British judge Sir Frank Williams who owned a big mansion on Civil lines. His father was the main buggy driver. They lived in the huge servant quarters of the mansion. Even after independence Sir Frank Williams continued to live in Allahabad, but the horse buggy was soon gone. Abdul and his father continued to live with Sir Frank Williams and help around the house and do all his odd jobs.Abdul`s mother died when he was just about 2 years old, so he grew up with his father.

As they passed through William House,Abdul pointed it out to her. When she enquired, if he still lived there, Abdul’s pleasant smile shrunk and he said no. The curious girl obviously asked him about the reason, and he said ‘ Bitiya, Maf karma hum uske bareme bata nahi sakte’.

The triveni sangam ghat arrived and Abdul told the girl ‘ Bitiya dhyan rakhne, yeah nav vale ko 40 rupee se jyada maat dena, aur dhyan rakhne, who kumbh mele ke ghat pe koi pujari miljayega to aapko paiso ka sankalp karvayega”

The girl took the boat ride and wondered about the reason for Abdul leaving that house.After that blissful ride of the Triveni sangam, the girl decided to walk through the city. One of the things she noticed were this shops selling guns, revolvers.Curious as always she entered one of the shops and enquired how much it would cost for a normal revolver.She also asked the uncle to direct her to the house of Girdharisham. Girdharisham was a very old friend of the girls grandfather, since the house was nearby the girl decided to at least go and give a flying visit to the uncle.

Girdharisham lived in a palatial bungalow. He was a retired lawyer of the High court. As they chatted over chai and the crisp butter biscuit, the girl casually enquired if he knew Sir Frank Williams.Girdharisham told her that Sir Frank Williams was a very good friend of his father,who was also a judge.The girl got even more curious, so she enquired about him. Girdharisham`s face turned grim, he said Sir Frank Williams was murdered 5 years ago.

Sir Frank Williams lived in one of the biggest mansions of Allahabad, with the advent of urbanization one of the biggest builders from Noida wanted to construct a huge mall on that same property. He was willing to pay a hefty amount for the same plot of land. However Sir Williams was quite happy with his lifestyle and house and did not want any additional money. His son who lived in London was visiting him at that time. His son had tried his hands on various businesses using his fathers money and had been quite a failure. He had come to beg for some more money from Sir Williams.When he learnt about the astounding sum of money the builder was ready to offer his father,he realized the only thing to do was to kill his father.

One evening he went into the adjoining terrace of his father room, the lights had gone, but he noticed a human figure, and aimed at it. He fired two more shots and just as he was turning away the lights came up and he saw his father in front of him. Considering it as a illusion after killing his father he decided to walk off, but he had not gone far, when his father tried to hit his head with a big vase. A fist fight began between the duo and the son succeeded in killing the father with a pocket knife which he removed from his pocket.

The entire episode was witnessed by the servant’s son,Abdul.It was very brave of Abdul to stand up and play witness to the murder. However as you are aware money power pumps the delay in judicial system.The police have though recorded Abdul`s statement, William`s son has cleverly obtained a bail and lives in London, whereas the builder has decided to opt out of the deal,as they are wary of the house being dragged into any judicial custody.

The Quest for a Bride...

2008-03-23T23:37:00.000-07:00

902 days…17520 hours...a gamut of emotions...
A hole of 1.5 lakh rupees in the pocket, using trains, bullock carts, buses to travel over 115000 km across the country, Meeting over 1000 people and 180 prospective brides to be. Lots of drama, action, and complete entertainment.

This is not a preview to, a new reality show on television, but this is a real story of a acquaintance from work. He hails from an educated gujrati family, who has settled in Bombay for many years, thus their connection with their caste members who stay in Gujarat is limited due to the distance. He had just began to work, and his parents thought it was a good time for him to settle down, he too readily agreed, and decided to actively participate in the pursuit of a good wife. So, every Friday night after work, he would take the train to Ahmedabad, get off in the morning and freshen up at his aunt’s house and then spend the day visiting various homes where the prospective brides and their family would meet him.

On an average every weekend he would meet at least about 4-5 girls and then take the train back to Mumbai on Sunday Night.This practice continued for more than a year, but something never seemed to have worked, either the parents were to afraid to send their daughters to Mumbai or they were just passing time,or the girl was not educated enough to lead a normal life in Bombay.

Frustration meter was going up, and suddenly his caste members decided to copy the successful formula of the Samuha Milan This is a very interesting concept, I was just baffled when I heard about it.

Samuha Milan is basically something where 80 girls( number can vary) and their families along with 80 boys and their families come together at this event. Each of the girls and boys are registered in the book along with their profiles and there is a unique number assigned to each of them.
The program begins with a talkative host, who gives an intro on the event and then the session begins.There is a little stage constructed, and the boy candidates and their families sit on one side, and the girl candidates and their families sit on the other side. It begins with candidate 1 going on stage and introducing himself

“Maru Name --- che, ooh Amdavad thi chu, ooh mechanical engineer chu, ane mara ----- shoak che ---, ohu ishu chu ke mari bahiri ek house wife hoi”
(My name, is -----, am from amdavad, and am a mechanical engineer, my interests are --- and I would like my wife to be a house wife)
Host will ask more questions, like which sub caste you are from and what your parents do etc
After his intro the boy gets off the stage, and the host tells the crowd, those interested in candidate A, can tick in the book provided and can meet him after the introduction. As soon as the candidate steps down from the stage, sometime eager parents would go and even approach them immediately.
In a similar fashion girl candidates arrive on the stage, and give their introduction and list down their expectations, for e.g. they want an Engineer husband etc

After this ramp walk is over, the parents of the potential brides and grooms aggressively set out to meet the candidates they have listed out. To me its sounds so awkward

The father of a potential bride goes to potential groom and says
"Amne tamara sathe vaat karvama interest che, amari chokri tya bethi che, so tamne yogya lage to agal vaat kariye, ane profile page ---- per che"
(We are interested in you, my daughter is sitting over there, pointing at the daughter, you can look at her profile on page- and if you are interested we can talk further)

Anyways our friend attended over 5- 6 Samuh milans, but nothing seemed to have materialized. It was almost more than 2.5 years now, and he was frustrated considering the dedication and hard work he had showcased in finding a bride. Finally what seemed like the last trip for him to Ahmedabad, he meet his wife, who was dressed in the most homely attire, to provoke the candidate to reject her, however the tables turned when they meet, and destiny brought them together.

To conclude,he said that the journey was although frustrating but, looking back it was indeed a learning experience for him, coz he got to meet different kind of people, learn about different kinds of human behaviour, and also got to visit places and people in the distant villages of his community, which he otherwise would never have got a chance.

The Wedding Weavers

2008-03-10T07:56:00.000-07:00

A ground in Shivaji Park is getting ready to weave another Wedding, just like a studio getting ready for another shoot. A zillion men and women would have weaved their lives with each other in matrimony on this very soil.The atmosphere at the ground is calm, devoid of the burden of anchoring the zillion marriages it has witnessed so far.

Its about 1am in the morning, but it seems like a normal working day, for the workers at the ground. Some of them are busy unloading the carpets from the little tempo (referred as baccha) in their terminology, others are trying to sort the bamboos and tie them up in the prescribed manner basis the design which their absent minded supervisor seems to have told them. The supervisor Ismail is new, and is particularly known for giving filmsy excuses.

The owner of the decorator company,arrives to take a stock of things, and to ensure that the work on the site is executed in the right manner,he immediately notices the missing pillar at the gate which was part of the design and remarks

“Ismail, Gate pe pillar nahi lagaya, design maih tha na”
Absent minded Ismail, tries his antics with the boss
“Pillar to laga hai na, dekho na sahab”
The Seth is quite patient and calmly asks Ismail, how come he cant see the missing pillar,trying to fumble again for excuses, he says he didn’t see the design or forgot, in no mood to argue, the Seth tell him to refer the design and ensure the pillar is constructed.
“Chandni aagayi kya”, the Seth remarks.Relax Chandni is not the Chandni from the Chandni bar, instead Chandni is what is referred to the colourful or design cloth which is used around the tent.

Kailash is a worker from UP, he is busy setting up the frame of pipe for the tent. He lives in one of the slums in Lalbaugh. He has been suffering from Hernia, but refuses to get himself operated, as he thinks getting him self operated will harm him. Probably unaware or simply ignorant of the danger he is living in by breeding a disease in his body,he continues to work relentlessly to feed his family.It is people like Kailash, who make me realize, that lack of health awareness is such a big problem in our country.Thousands of people in our country die because they are unaware of the disease they are suffering with or they hold some pre-conceived notions related to surgery.The cities today are full of people like Kailash who leave their villages and families behind to earn as little as Rs 125 a day and an inch of place in some crowded slum for shelter. But since the wedding business is a seasonal affair, a lot of these labourers go back to the villages during the monsoon for farming, to get whatever they can make from their land. Sometimes I really wonder what will happen to our cities, with so many laborers, I guess it is time to urbanise the villages.

Its only a couple of hours for the morning, the section for the wedding ceremony is almost ready,the chandni (cloth) is put up around the vidhi section.The hustle-bustle at the site also increases, as more bachas (small tempos), tempos and more workers arrive with furniture and godhris (carpets) after winding up another reception site, the previous night. The bride and groom who would be tying the knot the next morning, would probably be taking their last nap as bachelors, unaware of those dozen hands who would have worked meticulously the entire night towards making it a picture perfect wedding for them.

Malishwalas of Bombay

2007-11-25T02:58:00.000-08:00

They appear usually at the brink of dusk and squeeze out the tensions and worries of the tired souls. They aren’t any Counselors or Angels but they are the Malishwalas of Bombay.You will usually find them seated on the banks of popular sea shores, whether its Chowpatty, Juhu beach and ofcourse Carter Road.Some of them will be walking around with a tray of oil boxes and chattais, and if they think you are a potential customer they will approach you and tell you about the various types of Malish that they can offer you. Obviously their main clientele is only men, however,women too have started taking some of their services, just like I got a foot massage from one of them at Carter road the other day.

The Malishwala connection

Malishwalas are people,who I had heard about all my life.Infact the Malishwalas of Chowpatty are also an integral part of my Birth story.

It was a dark winter night 21 Jan 1982 to be precise ,Pa was already tired and frustrated with the fact that I wasn’t coming out, He had made Ma,walk for more than an hour in the balcony of the hospital( I was to be born) facing the Queens Necklace,without any success. Having given up on getting any result that day, Pa walked down to the Ideal Corner restaurant, grabbed a beer and decided to unwind by getting his favourite Malish on the beach. As the masseur massaged his tired legs and head he starred at the stars and wondered in amazement how his first child would be.He wished it would be a girl,a girl who he could design exquisite dresses for, a girl who he could weave all his dreams into.Pa had always wanted his first child to be a daughter for some reason. At the end of that relaxing malish session,it was almost quarter past midnight and Pa thought it was a good idea to just drop by at the hospital before he went home just incase there was some development. Indeed Ma, had got her labour pains, and Pa was standing right next to her, the reluctant fool, I was I just wasn’t willing to come out, finally I did and when the doctor announced it was a girl, Pa just could not help but jump up in excitement,while my Nani (Mom`s Mother) who still subscribed to the old school thought in the 80`s, was quite grim with the addition of another granddaughter in her family.

Obviously, the Malishwalas had earned themselves a role in my birth story, but Pa, who himself was connoisseur of Champi Malish,ensured that I was introduced to the craft, as he would always Malish my head with oil.When I was younger I hated it, coz I hated putting oil in my hair, but when I was in college I liked it, it seemed so nice as it calmed my tired nerves, and then when I longed for it, my Malishwala, Pa was not there anymore and the magic of his champi fingers will remain only as beautiful memory in time

My Malishwala Encounter

One evening, after dinner me along with my friends were sitting at Carter road. My friends, who I suspect having some connection to the vampirish bahus of the sas bhi bahu soap operas who are always conspiring something against the other bahu, kept pestering me to get a malish done from one of the malishwalas walking across the promenade. With my tired feet, I was quite tempted, but part of me did not want to agree to the conspiring bahus and also a conservative part of me thought it wasn’t such a good idea to get your foot massaged in the middle of the road.

But finally my tired feet gave up, and we called one of the malishwalas. The foot massage was ok but what I really liked, is the vati malish, where they spread oil on the palm of your feet and rub the vati on it. It’s the most relaxing massage for 30 bucks. So next time you are on Carter road, and if you want to get your feet relaxed get the vati malish for 30 bucks. The Malishwala told me he was from Agra, and they usually sleep during the day and come here only in the evenings for their business.

Delhi Ki Diwali

2007-11-14T07:19:00.000-08:00

The wide roads like welcoming hands, the striking monuments that stand as landmarks of our glorious past,the variety of scrumptious cuisines that innovate their style in the form of Delhi`s own cusine, the old city charm outlined with the fading ancient architecture,the chaotic Delhi traffic where everyone from the buswala, to the cycle rickshawdriver fight even for one inch of space on the road, to the completely lost and hostile attitude of delhiwalas( especially when u ask for directions).Delhi as a city has always fascinated me for the sheer character that it brings with it, giving me an opportunity to discover something new on every single trip I have made to Delhi. Here is memoir on my Delhi ki Diwali.

Since most of my family was going to be in Delhi for Diwali, I too joined the bandwagon and took the first train out what with the soaring air ticket prices. Getting a train ticket also needed some Jugad with the travel agent.

Public Transport in Gurgaon

If you do not have your transport in Gurgaon traveling around could be a problem.Local Public transportation in Gurgaon is restricted to cycle rickshaws,the motor rickshaw and some buses.
The Motor rickshaw is a 6 seater rickshaw, where usually more than 10 people pile up to take a ride for a nominal fare of Rs 5.Stuck without a driver, I too took a ride on one of these rickshaws, the rickshaw driver was so astonished, that he starred at me for a minute till he allowed me to sit in his rickshaw.

Street food in Gurgaon

I never realized that street food in Gurgaon would be so interesting.Neatly layed out in small laris as they call it parked outside all the big malls,the smell of kulchas, samosas, kachoris being fried, amidst the light evening winter breeze will definitely stir your appetite for quick grub. The street food stalls will offer you, Kulcha paratha, Chole bathuras, Samosa chat and variety of other chats, golgappas,Kachoris, Chowmein, Kathi rolls and Mumbai ka famous burger. I decided to dip my appetite with Mumbai ka famous burger.
I chatted with the stall owner, and asked him how he discovered this burger since living in Bombay all my life I haven’t ever seen it. He smiles shyly and tells me "Madam yeah to pata, nahi lekin yeah burger variety to Bombay saih hai na isliye nam de diya".
The burger is made of small potato patty a slice of potato which he deep fries in besan,. The burger bread is a small tiny bun, he puts the potato patty, onion and big piece of freshly cut panner er then just dips the bun in hot oil frying pan . For 5 bucks its good value for money but it has not connection with Bombay, the only Bombay connection that I could get is a friend of mine who would have loved this burger simply coz of the Paneer

Tentwalas of Haryana

We decided to bring in our New year by inviting cousins, aunts and uncles over for the typical Gujrati jammanvar at home. A jammanvar is usually a sit-down lunch, where long tables are layed out and food is served to you on the table. My aunt has a big dinning room, but in order to fit 35 people for a sit down lunch, we definitely needed to hire tables and chairs. So one lazy morning, myself and Mukesh the driver went around Gurgaon`s chaotic market Chakarpur to look for the tentwalas. As we walk towards the tentwala shop, I have this wonderful imagery of meeting some interesting tentwala like Dubeyji from Monsoon wedding.
On our first stop we are greeted by a hostile owner who seems least interested in renting out his chairs or tables. After asking him about 3 times the guy says,
"Bhej denge, address likh do".I enquire about the kind of chairs, and table cloth he would send us. After much coaxing he replies and says we have white only, nothing else. I tell him we need some colorful table cloths and bows for the chairs. I finally give up on this guy, and tell Mukesh we should look for someone else since this fellow is list bothered. The second tentwala we visit, has his shop with his house, and I guess we wake him from his slumber when we knock the door. Even before we enquire further, he says he is on holiday till Diwali, so he will not be doing any business. Have you ever heard of a tentwala who decides to sleep during peak business season. I hope my friend, who runs a decorators business in Mumbai, doesn’t get inspired by this lazy tentwala
Mukesh tells me that this small time businessmen in Gurgaon are least interested in doing any business, they have already made crores of money by selling their land to the builders, they are involved in this business merely for time pass so customer service, business growth are concepts alien to them. Since we cant find anything in Chakarpur, we go further to Sikanderpur market, where after passing through some dingy shops we reach a very dirty looking shop called Shagun Tentawala. The people in the shop are busy watching a movie over a tilted TV placed on a tilted shelf. Finally we get the owners attention out from the movie, juggling between 2 phone calls, with the least interes, the guy takes my order. Obviously 8am in the morning is something the tentwala has never heard in his life, so I tell him to send me the chairs and tables the previous night itself and I hope that the dude delivers the chairs and tables on time.

Killer Blue line Bus

After visiting my cousins at Vasant Kunj, I decided to go to Chandni Chowk Via 605 blueline bus from Vasant Kunj. The bus was surprisingly empty and compared to our BEST buses; it was quite dirty and dimly lit, more like our bad ST buses. It was only six in the evening, but with winter set in it has already become dark. As the bus moved ahead I realized I was the only women sitting in that bus and all the men traveling by it were the typical worker class. The conversations in the background were spiced with gallis, and I hoped to learn some new, but they were using the same old ones. A part of me was a little scared, but the other part of me said that even if I was traveling by a rickshaw, I would have been equally safe or unsafe, and the bus was definitely a better option with more people. A very casually dressed mavali sort of dude dressed in jhatak tracks and t-shirts came towards me to sell the bus ticket. I had always imagined bus conductors to be dressed in uniforms,but blue line conductors don’t seem to have a dress code. Couple of stops later, the bus is over crowded; luckily I am sitting right in the front so I don’t have to worry about getting off. The striking feature of the Blue Line Bus ride, is that anyone can sell bus tickets on the bus. Another fellow who was sitting in front of me, suddenly got up, chatted with the mavali in track pants, took the bundle of tickets from him and started selling the tickets.The bus journey futher is quite entertaining, with a fighting couple in tamil, an arguing old man, although I am itching to get off this bus. So I get off at the Central Secretiat Metro station to board to my train to Chandni Chowk

Metros of Delhi

The Metro rail is probably one of the best things to have happened to Delhi, making traveling so easy. I have used the Metro rail earlier also, but they have never been too crowded, coz a lot of people are still reluctant to use it.Surprisingly this time I saw a lot more people using the metros, than I had before. Also the good part is that the Delhi Metro`s have been able to maintain the cleanliness levels in the trains and the stations which is definitely worth applauding.

Chandni Chowk

Chandni Chowk has always fascinated me, and no trip to Delhi is complete for me without a visit to Chandni Chowk. I love the energy and character this place has. Chandni Chowk or that road which leads to Red fort is one of the most diverse streets I have seen. It has a Gurudwara, a Church, a Mosque and even a famous temple. Its choti diwali and the atmosphere in the evening is celebratory, cars parked outside filling up their boots with last minute Diwali shopping. Cycle rickshaws ferrying people, the lights, smell of pure ghee, and jalebis and samosas being fried.I walk through one of my favourite lanes the kinaari bazaar where you can pick up fancy laces, lovely material, artifacts etc. I love walking through these tiny lanes, which are so alive and lit up with the small kandils and decorations across. After making my stop at Paratha gali, I find myself buying some really fancy gifting bags and decorative pots, and gifting cloth. This place will definitely give your Tresories and Bombay stores a run for their money, both in terms of pricing and variety

Gujarati cuisine in Delhi

Some years ago, when my cousins from the north came down to Bombay they would love to eat the khandivs, patras and dhoklas, coz they could never buy them from the local mart and making it at home would be a huge production for their mothers. So when I heard we were having the jamanavar at home, I never realized that we would only have Gujarati food. A shop called Farsan in gurgaon caters to gujrati cusine, they churned out some really good khandvis, dhoklas and undhiya for us .Well every place brings in its own flavour to the cusine, so I could say that the khandvis and Dhoklas were more or less at power with the Bombay shops, but the undhiya was slightly different, less oily and not typically sweet like the gujrati undhiyu, so I quite liked it. So next time you want to eat guju food in Delhi head to Farsan

A decade...

2007-08-28T08:40:00.000-07:00

It was a normal hectic Monday morning and my phone beeped,A sms from a very dear friend of mine all the way from Australia, congratulating me on completing a decade of friendship which began exactly 10 years ago at 11:30a.m when we entered the first RCMC General Body meeting in college. This made me nostalgic, and I said maybe this is a good time to walk back in time and reflect on the last decade of my life.

The last decade of my life has probably been the most eventful, flooded with lots of twists and turns.Apart from growing in age and probably by a couple of pounds I have also grown as an individual. I think I have become much calmer as a person then, what I used to be ten years ago, when I had just set my foot out of school, filled with illusions of the real world, but lots of dreams and aspirations

I do remember getting my passport renewed at the passport office along with Pa and my agent,who insisted that I should take the ten years passport instead of the twenty years, as I would definitely be married within the next ten years and I would anyway need to get the name changed. I wish he had allowed me to take the twenty years passport at least it would have saved me the current hassle I am facing to get my passport renewed at least for another decade.

Joining Rotaract
This was a real turning point in my life. Infact most of the friends I ever made in college were from Rotaract It was exactly today, 27 Aug 1997 at 11:30a.m that myself and Veena entered the first ever general body meeting of RCMC.We were both apprehensive about Rotaract, and honestly when we entered the meeting room, I just thought I was at the wrong place, everything seemed so different from my school world,where I was so used to being at the forefront of all the limelight because of the activities I participated in.
Making marketing proposals, Editing Bulletins,roaming around for sponsorships, getting closer to the college principal,Rupa Shah( what with the countless hours we would spend in her cabin to get her signature),attending other Rotaract projects as far as Neral, Ulhasnagar, Churchgate( thanks to Rotaract my Bombay geography is solid),dealing with all kinds of people from the south Bombay snob clubs to the pile on eastern suburbs clubs were just few of things that Rotaract taught me. But the icing on the cake was getting my first ever summer job with a PR consultant in Bandra. Most importantly because of Rotaract I made some really good friends,who have always stood by me in my moments of joy and sorrow till today.

NSS
Joining NSS was not something I had planned to do, but it just happened by chance, I think because of a pestering professor of mine Prof Rawal who was persistent that I join NSS and do some good work. This was quite interesting coz we did a couple of social service projects( I cant even remember what) but the turning point was when, I was given the opportunity to represent the NSS junior wing of Mumbai University at the National conference in Nanded, Nagpur along with other girls from other colleges and a Prof from our college.I think this was my real tryst with reality. We were staying at this accommodation which was nothing but a dingy classroom of a municipal school,where we did have all sorts of rats and creeps for company, there were no real toilets and I remember I was so desperate to go to even an Indian style toilet then I actually went to a house in the village close by and requested them to allow me to use the toilet and thankfully made a arrangement to use it till I was staying there.This was a real all India meet,where I meet girls and boys from across the country all doing great work but couldn’t speak English at all. Going back was a real terror,in spite of having reservations there was a mob of sardars who just blocked the entry into the compartment and we girls some how managed to get in. After that I never meet those girls again.I think the only advantage that NSS gave me was that being a college supported organization, it really brought me in the limelight in front of my professors and this was probably the reason I was awarded as the Best Student- Arts junior college.

Mountaineering society/ Drama club
Mountaineering society was something I just joined for fun, I just went for a couple of treks to Karnala and Kanheri caves and then never bothered too much about it. Drama Club was something, I was really very interested in, since our team was very strong, infact I had auditioned and had been selected so many times but I think I was not dedicated to rehearsals as I was too busy doing Rotaract or NSS work and I would drop out giving some excuse or the other.I have attended a couple of college festivals like Malhar and MoodI, Brouhaha to participate in some faltu contest or other, but never really won anything.

Moving from Bandra
This was one of the most heartbreaking event of my life.When we moved from Bandra to godforsaken Kandivali which I really hated and I continue to hate till today. Bandra was where I grew up, every single lane of this suburb was filled with memories of growing up, this was home. Although our first house where we moved in till our actual house was ready was quite spacious and comfortable and equipped with all the modern amen ties I truly missed my Bandra house. Infact after we left that house, I never had the courage to go and visit that house in the last 8 years. Kandivali was a complete new culture for me,it was full of the Gujarati, nosy clan which I had always dreaded to have for company. There weren’t even any nice restaurants or places to go to and to add to it traveling was a real pain. To attend my morning lecture at 7am, I would have to leave home at 5:45 walk to the bustop and then board the crowded train and walk again to the college, compared to a simple bus ride to college from my Bandra home. But yes Kandivali brought me close to my culture and my roots, Ganesh chathurthi, Diwali, Navratri, Holi were festivals celebrated with great fanfare and oneness in our buildings.

Working
Almost towards the end of my First year in degree college, I started working with a PR consultant in Bandra. So every day after college I would go to office. In my 2year stint with this consultant I learnt quite a bit.I picked up the business, and my boss was so happy with me that she actually left the business to be handled by me for 2 months when she was away on a vacation. Work wise life was very good, my clients were happy with my work, I had a good rapport with the lifestyle journalists and also the job gave me the opportunity to work with some interesting people like Shatbhi Basu, NRCI, Anil Dharkar. But yes I often missed not being able to sit in the canteen aimlessly like some of my friends and go out and watch movies or just roam around.

Final year in college
This was a true landmark year in my life.I still recollect in November,I was taking a break from work to concentrate on my TY studies.It was also my first cousins wedding at our native place in Nainital and this wedding proved to be one of those rare occasions where all my fathers siblings came together.The wedding was truly memorable, it was grand family reunion, so much so that for some reason I had tears in my eyes when we were all leaving from the venue. This was also a beginning to a end which, I could never even anticipate in my wildest dreams. After we came back Pa`s health started deteriorating, he had already made couple of trips to the hospital the previous year but now the visits got more frequent. Finally in mid-December under serious circumstances we moved Pa to a big hospital and when he left the house that day in the ambulance, he some how knew he wasn’t coming back. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me, I wanted to believe that it was just a dream, but it was reality that I was facing for the next seven days,where every single day, Pa in spite of his pain, in his humorous style told me that he was going leaving me to look after everything.I wish it was just one of Pa`s jokes, but it wasn’t a joke anymore,when one Saturday afternoon, after singing one of his favourite songs he was gone and all I could do is see his diminishing heart beats on that machine outside that room. On that day, life seemed like a huge challenge.I just knew that I had a huge amount of things that I needed to sort but I didn’t know how I would do it. Although Pa was gone in person, but his sprit was alive in me , and that’s what helped me to slowly and steadily sort out everything.But at that time, I really wished, I had an elder sibling who would take care of everything for me.

Post college
The day I finished my final exams, the only thing I wanted to do was to get a proper job for myself in a company. Finally I applied to a couple of PR agencies and managed to find myself a job with Percept Profile. For the first couple of months I was quite lost, and wasn’t to happy with the way things were at work, but about 10 months later my ex boss called me for an exciting offer with someone she knew. This is where I learnt to negotiate, I negotiated my salary and started working on Channel [v ]. Channel [v] was undoubtedly an exciting client and I had a great time working with my new boss. The new company Vaishnavi was good, and the people there were nice too. It was almost like a family. Professionally things were good for me, but I just couldn’t concentrate on my law studies. I had enrolled for a degree course in law but law needed a lot of time for research in library and lot of mugging up which I couldn’t do in my cramped time, and I realized that this was not something I really wanted to do, coz I wasn’t enjoying it so I left my law studies. As time passed by I had the opportunity to handle new clients, new challenges, I walked up the corporate ladder.
After almost 2 years monotony creeped in and I decided to take a break, and this is where I took my first single backpack trip to Kerala where I could sit and think about what I wanted to do in my life.

Sabbatical
Sometime in February after I came back from Kerala,I decided that if I wanted to try out something different and explore the opportunities this world has to offer, this is the time to do it so that ten years down the line I wouldn’t regret not having given myself a chance. I applied for my US- visa, shocked the world by quitting my job, without any assignment in hand. Luckily I got my US visa and I decided to go the US and explore the work, study opportunities that country could offer me.
My 3 month US trip was fun, I traveled a lot, met lots of interesting people, visited colleges, universities and concluded that US was not the greatest place for me to begin my career at this stage, as it would require a lot of time and funding. So I came back and started job hunting. Obviously I could have easily gone back to Vaishnavi, but I didn’t want to do PR, I wanted to do Marketing communications. I actually wanted to work for a media house but I ended up working with one of the leading life insurance companies ICICI Prudential. I have been working with them for close to 2 years now

New interests - Travel, Food, Reading & Children
Over the last ten years I have discovered the four things that I really like to do. I never realized how passionate I was about traveling until I took my first backpack trip to Kerala. Since then I have taken ever single opportunity to explore places in India and abroad.Travelling in Amtracks, Jamutavis , general compartments of long distance trains, state transport buses,staying at nominal home stays and exploring the local flavour of the regions I visit are things I just love to do.
Although I am a vegetarian, I love to discover new cuisines and food joints.In fact I am also in talks with a food site to pen a column on food.
Reading was something I was never to fond of, but this is something I have picked up over the last couple of years. I love reading Indian fiction.
I was never to fond of children, but I guess because of the sheer time I spent with my young nieces and nephews in the US that I started getting very fond of children. I look forward to the day, when I will have my own children

I know this is a very long post, and probably not everyone will be able to reach till the end, but ten years is a long time and 2000 words isn’t enough to document it.

Cheers to a decade !

The Birth story

2007-07-23T08:36:00.000-07:00

The last couple of weeks have been exciting times for me. Two of my first cousins delivered their first childs, Anand & Om within a gap of 10 days. A new life has the power of bringing so much of joy and happiness. Unfortunately since they stay in another country, I did not get the opportunity to go and visit them, but thanks to technology we could look at their pictures.

New births always bring me nostalgia, It reminds me of my birth story, which Pa used to narrate, I think, this was one of favourite stories, and I often asked Pa to repeat it for me. It made me very happy for some reason. Pa was a very good storyteller, and his narration was so good, that even today when he isn’t here anymore, I can still imagine those details as his words echo in my ears.

I still remember the time my sister was going to be born. I was too young to understand what was going on. A seven year old kid, who believed that by eating eggs one got pregnant, my aunt who I had visited in the US the previous summer, was so shocked by my understanding of the reproductive system that she immediately gifted me a book on egg to chicken. The book didn’t change my understanding too much,I continued to believe that my mom has eaten eggs that summer, and that’s the reason I would be having a sibling this Christmas. I remember accompanying my mom and dad to the monthy, bi monthly visits to the doctor and aimlessly sitting in waiting area of the doctors clinic, just looking at all the patients waiting there and wondering what ailment they had, and glancing through the medical journals which didn’t make any sense to me.

As they say you can never predict this things, one early winter morning the 11 of Dec 1988 to be precise, Ma and Dadi rushed to the hospital. Pa was still in Haldwani, scheduled to be back by 20th of Dec for my sister`s birth. It seemed like a normal Sunday morning, Dadaji was sitting on his sofa, happily reading his paper, chatting with me. Couple of minutes later the phone rang and Dadaji announced, “Dhruti you have a baby sister”.At that very moment, I don’t know how I decided, but I said than we will name her Shruti. I have no idea what happened after it, but she was officially named Shruti. I remember going to municipality office in Bandra along with Dadi to collect her birth certificate and Dadi explaining the importance of having a birth certificate to me.

I don’t recollect properly if I did go to Nanavati to see my sis, but I do remember looking at her in amazement, she was such a tiny little thing, I had probably never seen such a tiny human being in my life, so I was scared to even lift her in my hand, inspite of Pa insisting on me doing so. For the first 2-3months after her birth I just visited her on weekends and holidays with Pa, as Ma was staying at Nani`s house.

Shruti was a like a walking talking doll for me.I loved playing with her, tossing her up and down, scare her a little, pinch her cheeks.She was almost like a replica of my kid pictures. Infact I remember complaining to my Mom, that it wasn’t fair that she was always buying something for Shruti every week ( which was actually just Diapers) and nothing for me. Poor Ma had to deal with my tantrums of differentiation between me and my sister.But I still remember the joy, I had when she started crawling for the first time.It was almost like a new feature had been added to my doll, but I think I was most satisfied when I pushed her to walk, I would always make her stand and push her to take a step and one day she did start walking. It was a wonderful feeling and then we brought her the chu chu shoes the ones that generates a sound when one walk. She would happily walk around the house in those shoes. She was just 11 months old and she started walking. That was the end of my siblingdom story as she moved to the United States. When I look at her today, she stands almost 6 ft tall, its hard to imagine that one day she was that same tiny little being I was so scared to lift

After she left,the first couple of months were hard,the house felt so empty without her. It seemed like; my walking talking doll was taken away from me. Almost every one I knew in school or my neighbourhood or even my cousins all had siblings,I often felt that void of not having a sibling who i could nurture,guide protect, or be nurtured by. But as time passed by I started liking my singledom status and just felt happy counting the advantages I had by being the only child.More than that when I look at it now, I think I was very fortunate to have the kind of upbringing I had from my parents. They gave me so much of freedom to do what I wanted to do.I never remember asking anybody for permission, it was always informing them or taking their opinion on anything,I wanted to do.

I do wonder sometimes how life would have been with a sibling, especially when friends amaze me with the weirdest statements, and the weirdest of them was “You don’t like video games, because you don’t have a brother.”

Namesake

2007-06-15T21:16:00.001-07:00

On one of those luxurious days when I actually had nothing to do,I decided to go and watch the movie Namesake at the local mall. I think, I like the concept of nothingness, it is indeed a luxury to have a day where you have nothing to do and nothing to think about, which leads you in to a land of wandering thoughts and imagination.
The movie, was ok and since I had read the book earlier it was just like a pictorial representation of the book. But after the movie as I ventured into my nothingness world, my mind got me thinking about the medley of names I have been addressed with from my existence on Planet Earth.

Dhruti- This is the name my father and bua (by tradition) gave me. Dhruti means courage and determination. I like my name, and more than me my parents liked it too, so they never addressed me with a pet name, as they feared that my actual name would get lost in the pet name.

Pudding-I think for the first couple of years of my life the sweet little kid that I was,Bhuj started calling me Pudding Infact even my first birthday cake, reads Happy Birthday Pudding. I dont think at that time I understood what Pudding really meant, but I was thrilled when Bhuj took me to Pudding street. Ofcourse with Pudding there was a list of many other names like Applepie, chickoo pie etc

Pattu- When I was little over 2 years old and we lived in Haldwani, my elder cousin who is just couple of months older to me, couldn’t pronounce my name,she started calling me Pattu, and then everyone in Haldwani started calling me Pattu.

Chotan as the little one and Piddu the little teddy bear were some cute names that Dadaji gave me.

DD-I dont quite recollect how I got this name. But I think we were going on a Rotaract trip and than some my friends started calling me Dangerous Dhruti, District Dhruti. DD. Of course the various abbreviations for DD followed

Daku DD -I think Daku was a name I gave myself, once I learnt about the fascinating Daku rehab stories in my family

The name destroyers, who could never prounounce my name
Daruti
Dhotar
Shruti
Kruti
Truti
Jyoti
Dorothy
Dhrooti

Babyji- Our servants in Haldwani used to address me

Bitya, Beta- From shopkeepers to bus conductors, acquaintances, to relatives to even some my younger friends. Infact I loved the way the old man my guide for one of the monuments in Lucknow kept addressing me as Bitya

Gudiya- This is a new one, I remember in Lucknow I was walking around a monument, and there was this family from a village who had probably come for the first time to a city and the head of the family he said Gudiya, "Yaah se Doosra Maqbara kitna dor hai", and again when I bumped into the family at another place, they kept calling me Gudiya.I like that

D- This is the shorter version for Didi, and my younger cousins call me D and I quite like it.

Dhruti Masi- Oh that sounds so sweet, when my young nieces and nephews( which are very few) and my friends kids call me that

Aunty- I obviously hate people calling me that , but guess I cant run away from the fact that I am an aunt to some people

Bhabiji- Hated it when the vegetable vendor called me that and warned him that I would never buy vegetables from him if he called me that

Behenji
Didi
Madam
Maam
Madamjee
Sisterjee
Aapa
Brother

List can go on, I guess, but what’s interesting is that one person can be called by so many different names in a short life span

Random thoughts

2007-05-03T10:14:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the strangest things can ignite your minds, thought process and get you thinking. Over the past one week, a lot of random thoughts ignited out of various situations have led me thinking

Boring life or Age ?

It was a Friday evening, and I was catching up with my friend who has just returned to town after a long stay in Chennai and she insisted she wanted to eat at Mc Donald’s since there wasn’t a single outlet there. When I walked into that noisy and crowded Mc Donalds outlet at Parle, I just couldn’t handle the people, the noise, I wanted to get out. Some how we found a place to sit down, and as I waited with my friends college going brother as she stood in line to get the food, I remarked,
“Its so funny, some years ago I was a part of this chaos and noise, and now I cant handle this anymore, I think I am getting old”. He smiled and said, "You have not got old, but its just that you have a boring life, working in an Corporate office, if you quit your job and do nothing else, you will enjoy the noise and chaos”

I kept thinking about what he had said, did I really have such a boring life? Didn’t I do interesting and adventureous things ? After all i am this adventurer who those the craziest of things

Survival

I was reading one of the interesting short stories, and I came across this story called, Hope, which was about this rickshaw driver in Delhi narrating the story of his life. How he had walked over 500 km from his village in UP to come to Delhi to find a job, he walked 25km on a daily basis to work in a mill, and he was jobless for sometime after the mill closed down, worked in a printing press earned good money and then was jobless again after the new automatic printing machines came into existence.

A couple of days later, I was watching a show on Discovery called Colours of India, which was on the poster painting artists of India. In my school days I remember seeing the artists at work painting the latest movie posters or advertisements on the hoardings. This art has now been replaced by the computer. The paint brush of the artist has taken a backseat and all that this artists have are fond memories of the glory days where they were the biggest advertising agencies themselves and now left with some trifle work assignments from abroad.

I kept thinking of the rickshaw driver & the poster artists, how difficult life would have been for him, but they learned to survive, Imagine how you would feel if your source of livelihood is taken away from you.

For the poster artists, so many would have buried their talents behind to take up jobs as delivery boys, or waiters or whatever they got for survival

Marriage as Life insurance

One afternoon I was catching up with two of my married friends over lunch. As we chatted about this, that and other, they talked about their married life, rather one of them constantly bitching about her husband, while the other, the experienced of the lot was teaching her to learn to work around situations. I smiled inside, and told them, that I was glad I wasn’t married and didn’t have to worry about all this so called nokjhoks. To which I really liked what one of them said, “Marriage is like life insurance, just like you invest money for you future, when you invest in a relation like marriage, it’s a little difficult initially to pay the premiums, but when at the age of 60 you need companionship this premium will prove productive” I chuckled and said, your analogy is great, coz just like life insurance there is a risk here too, if your partner dies, the premium has gone down the drain

Singledom

I happened to meet one of favourite elderly friends to pick up some investment papers. As we chatted over Chai, he suddenly said “From my experience I can tell you, being single can get lonely sometimes, and it doesn’t mean that your unhappy, but you just get weird, like sometimes if you have people around, you wouldn’t want to talk to them, and if you are by yourself you will always keep wondering about having company” .

Well on my way back home I pondered about what he had just said. All my life, I have always been single, I grew up as an only child, I remember envying my friends for having siblings, and complaining to my Mom, for not having any brothers and sisters to play with . But as I grew up I got used to my singledom, I liked it that way, I did like meeting cousins, but it was only for a short while, after sometime I wanted my space and my peace. Even now I still do enjoy traveling alone. I don’t think too much if,I don’t have company to watch a movie or a play or to eat out or for any activity I wish to do, I just go ahead do it by myself. Although I do wish, I had company sometimes, and when I do have company sometimes I wish it was otherwise

Childhood

This is something I am constantly reminded off, when I see the little boy serving chai at tea stalls, or when I think of sweet waiter in Rajasthan who had abandoned his studies to work at the hotel we were staying at, or the school boy who missed school to manage the camel we were taking a ride on in deserts of Jaisalmer.

More recently I was cycling through Charkop area, and I saw this huge Maruti van , which was covered, all I saw was these group small children all clamed up together, they looked no different from the beggars we see on the road, I guess they were being taken to some place to be sold or to be trained to beg. As I looked at that van zooming passed me, I wondered what will happen to the childhood of these kids. Thousands and thousands of such children come into this city escaping from their homes in search of a brighter future, leaving their childhood behind

Filmtime : Bhojpuri ishtyle

2007-04-21T19:07:00.000-07:00

I have always had this desire to watch a Bhojpuri film and see what its all about.From what i hear, Bhojpuri movies are made on shoe string budgets, and extremly profitable, especially in UP and Bihar.The biggest star of the Bhojpuri film industry is Ravi Kissan, Ofcourse Rakhi Sawant is also there, but only for item songs, i dont know if she has acted as lead in any of this movies. I still do not know much about the Bhojpuri film industry, but am intrigued to find out more. From the kind of actors, to the kind of money and time that goes into the making of the masala Bhojpuri films.

The general impression is that most Bhojpuri films are showcased at shady theatres full of unemployed men, bhaiyas, rickshaw and truck drivers. So when i voiced the desire to watch a bhojpuri film, the immediate reaction of mosto f my friends and collegeous was in negative, they all had just one answer,that I was insane and I shouldn’t go to watch such a movie in a theatre. None of my male friends agreed to accompany me to watch the movie, instead they volunteered to buy me a DVD to watch it at home. But as i have always believed, that if you want to get the flavour of a particular thing, you have to experience it in its natural surroundings. Watching a Bhojpuri movie in a local theatre, would not only give me an opportunity to watch the film, but also see the target audience watching it, and observe their reactions.

The viewing
When i had almost lost hope of watching the movie, one of my journalist- friend, the same guy who had promised, to take me to a dance bar and did not do so, messaged me enquiring about the Bhojpuri movie. Here was my chance of settling my old score, not realizing what he was really getting into he agreed to join me for the movie. I had already done my R & D on the Bhojpuri movie scene. The latest flick, Ram Balwan, starring Ravi Kissan was playing at Super Cinema in Grant road. I called the theatre just to ensure its not housefull. The guy having recognised my voice from the previous day calling to enquire about show timings says "Madam chinta mat karo, bahut ticket hai, aaram se mil jayega."

In the afternoon heat i walk from Grant road station towards chor bazzar. Super Cinemas is located a couple of blocks further to Novelty. Its only 2:30pm yet, the waiting area near the theatre is slowly filling up. Although its not very crowded. When the booking counter opens i go and buy two tickets, i ask the guy for good seats. He smiles and tells me "Madam, yeah free seating hai"Already some people are starring at me, my journalist friend has just left from town, so i take shelter in the local mughali restauran next door.
By the time my friend arrives, most of the people have alreay entered the theatre. The theatre is actually quite nice. Its just not maintained properly. In its glory days it must have been quite popular. We walk in to the balcony section, the movie has almost started, its so dark inside i cant even see my friend. The seats are little uneven, and the fillings in seats is worn out or eaten by rats, i guess. There is no air-conditioning only huge fans

The movie begins, in a matter a couple of mins, the two heros, Ravi Kissan and dont know the hero`s name save two girls from getting raped, those girl fall in love with them, there is song dance, the heros try to escape from the women, the women pray to god and suddenly find them playing Kusti in those typical underwears in the kheth. The Heros again try to run away heroines entice them with dance and jhatka matka. The hooting happens only from the stalls, when the women are dancing. The Heros mothers, Aruna Irani find out of their chakkar and she goes into flashback and tells them they have to take badla for their fathers death from father`s elder brother who is shown as very a cruel thakur. In flashback mode there are more than 5 item songs, or mujra types, the biggest obviously is of Rakhi sawant. In the end like all movies the sons take revenge by killing the uncles sons, and the uncle and then they live happily ever after.

All in all, Bhojpuri movies are really time pass, watching them at a theatre like super cinema is fairly decent, people won’t really bother you

To know more about Bhojpuri films click the link below.

http://www.bhojpuri.org/film.htm

Zindagi...

2007-03-21T02:19:00.000-07:00

Zindagi ke safar main guzar jaate hain jo mukam

This thought provoking song written by Anand Bakshi has been my favourite since I was in school, but I had never really gone beyond the first two lines of the song. Having managed to download the song on my phone, I have been listening to it carefully amidst the chaos of the noisy train compartments on my way to work and lot of thoughts came to my mind.

Zindagi ke safar main guzar jaate hain jo mukaam
Woh phir nahin aate, woh phir nahin aate
This line is so true, things in our life are so momentary. The simplest thing like the moments of laughter you have experienced, while sharing a joke with your friend will never come back, maybe because the joke wont make you laugh anymore or the friend probably wont exist anymore.

This reminds me of a beautiful and a realist quote I read some where
"The irony of time is that, sometimes we laugh at the moments we have cried, and cry over the moments we have laughed"

Phool khilte aain, log milte hain
Phool khilte hain, log milte hain magar
Patjhad main jo phool murjha jaate hain
Woh baharon ke aane se khilte nahin
Kuchh log ek roz jo bichhad jaate hain
Woh hazaron ke aane se milte nahin
Umar bhar chahe koi pukaara kare unka naam
Woh phir nahin aate, Woh phir nahin aate
Zindagi ke safar main...

This para is my favourite, just like how flowers blossom every day, we meet new people everyday. Some stay back with us while some are taken away in the storm of time and inspite of meeting more over 1000 people in your lifetime, you can never replace the space of those people who you have lost over the period of time, what stays back is only memories.

If I reflect back, i try to recollect the wonderful times I have had with my group of friends during my college days.At that time they were the nucleus of my joy and happiness, but times change, people change, relations, circumstances change, and then you end up being in touch with just a few of them, your interaction levels come down, you get immersed at work, you meet more people at work, you make more friends. Your nucleus of friends changes to your work friends. In the course of time you end up bumping into people who you had met earlier, then they suddenly become the nucleus of your interaction, again with time and commitments some friends leave, this epic or this silsila of building new friendships and fading old friendships continues. Sometimes I wonder, if we eventually know that all this is going to be momentary then why do we invest so much of time and effort in it. The answer to that question probably lies in the same reason, that we all desire to lead a good and successful life in spite of knowing its going to end one day.

If you want to read the entire the lyrics of the song click on this link
http://tinyurl.com/75e57

If you want to listen to this beautiful song. Click on this link
http://tinyurl.com/c4zbp

Baklava hunt in Bombay

2007-03-15T06:03:00.000-07:00

One Saturday afternoon as I chatted over chai with Dada, Dadi, we suddenly remembered Baklava which we all had relished back in Memphis and Detroit. Dadi offered to make it, if we could find the pastry strips needed to prepare it. I wondered if we could get Baklavas somewhere in Bombay. Putting good use to Dadaji latest computer and internet connection, I did a google search and to my amazement I did find a place called Iranian Sweet Palace in Dongri, which sold Baklavas but only in March before Iranian New year. There was no contact no, but just the address. We all were thrilled to find out that we had some hope to relish our delicacy in Bombay.

By chance a friend of mine happened to be at Mohammedali road called me for something else, but before he could say anything I excitedly blurted the details of the shop and obviously expected him to go to the shop and get me my Baklavas. But my friend returned with no Baklavas but Hasan Irani(the owner) contact no and information that I could buy the Baklavas in March.

Baklava or Baklawa is a rich, sweet pastry found in many cuisines of the Middle East, the Balkans and South Asia and developed in Ottoman cuisine. It is made of chopped nuts, usually walnuts or pistachios, layered with phyllo pastry, sweetened with sugar or honey syrup.In Turkey, it is particularly associated with the city of Gaziantep.

SO one evening, post work I excitedly called Hasan Irani, he told me I could come any time before 8pm and gave me apt directions to the place from worli. So I took the 124 bus, which is an interesting ride through Byculla, Navpada and Bhendi Bazzar . I got off the bus at Bhendi Bazar stop and asked an old uncle for directions. He directed me to lane further, and just as I began walking another inquisitive gentlemen approached me and enquired where I was heading. Another group of men in the corner of the lane also asked me where I was heading.

Iranian Sweet Palace

Finally I reach Iranian Sweet Palace, I had imagined it to be one of those typical sweet shops like Zam Zam, huge in size and ignited with lights. Iranian Sweet Palace has an old board, without lights, you could easily miss the shop if you were not looking carefully. Hasan was standing outside probably gazing at the chaos outside. He welcomed me with a smile and recognized me instantly to be the mad women coming to buy Baklavas from the other end of town. The shop didn’t look like a sweet shop at all, there were these huge plates full of Baklavas, Pista & Kesar( similar to Baklava but made of pista & Kesar). The Baklavas are prepared in the Iranian style with more of the sweet and less of the pastry part, the ones I had eaten were more Turkish and French style. Baklavas are for 450rupees a kg. The problem is that Baklavas weigh a lot but are small in size, so you don’t have much of choice but to buy the 1 kg packing

The baklavas are made here in the traditional Iranian style, cooked with wood fire. Hasan`s family has been running this shop for more than 98 years now. Hasan claims to have the only shop in India to be preparing Baklavas, that too only in one month of the year. He also has some Iranian sweets and dates. When I recommend him to advertise his sweets in paper, he contently tells me “ I am just happy doing this, just catering to Irani community, I have enough for my self, I sold my restaurant Light of Asia for a fortune, I have 3 other houses, some are on rent, and some good investment in stock exchange, so I don’t need anything”.

So with my Baklavas packets in hand I walk through one of my favourite roads,Mohammed Ali road. I loved watching the Irani & Muslim restaurants serving maska pav and chai and the huge bakery and sweet shops like Zam Zam. The vendors trying to lure me to buy their goods right from the burkhas to the colourful dress materials. The minara masjid which looked so dim without al lthe lighting which I had seen during Ramzan. The sound of the Ayan( call for prayers). For sometime you could just forget you were in Bombay, you could be at Chowk in Lucknow or Chandni Chowk in Delhi

Generation X- Children’s world

2007-03-12T01:36:00.000-07:00

As I dragged my self out of my Sunday slumber to attend my 10 year old neighbours birthday party never had I imagined that I was about to embark into a totally different world of the children of today.

As we walked in to this popular pizza eatery, the atmosphere was celebratory; the kids were playing the age old musical chairs conducted by the event manager of the chain. As each of the kids were out after every round, they had to come out and do a punishment, either sing a song dance etc.

The first boy to get out, a 10 year old, who I developed an instant liking to due to his very intelligent brains, sang a popular Sean Paul song Temperature. I was amazed to know that he knew the entire lyrics of the song. Later when I chatted with him, he told me he knew the lyrics of many English numbers, he listens to a lot of Sean Paul nos . I was so zapped, I still remember as a 10 year old I had no clue of music, or an artist .

Another 8 year girl gets dismissed from the game, as a punishment she is asked to dance like Shakira, that is the punishment suggested by the children present there. Initially the girl is shy but in a matter of minutes when the music starts, she gets into the swing and her steps go exactly like Shakira from her latest video.

In another game, the birthday girls parents and grandparents also join in. when the parents get out, the children instantly demand that they should also be given a punishment. The birthday girl suggests the parents dance, and my smart 10 year old friend along with 2 other girls recommends them to do a ball dance or jive . I don’t think I even knew what a ball dance or jive was till I even reached college. Of course the parents were very sporty and they danced beautifully to some popular number

As I was expressing my shock at the changing era of birthday parties and children to a young mother sitting next to me, she narrated an interesting incident of her friends 7 year old daughter who had short listed 3 potential candidates as her husband from school. She told her mother that she had short listed them, because one of them was strong, the other always came first in line and third one comes first in class. When her mother remarked that this it was too early for her to get married or choose a life partner, as girls got married only after the age of 25, her reply was that she wanted to finish one of the important works earlier only, copied her mothers dialogue in gujrati( Ek Kaam patavi devano ne ma) good to finish one work . Another mother at her son`s school who is a gynecologist was telling her, when she tried to educate her son about reproduction process, the son coolly told his mom,"Mom you don’t need to tell me about this, I know how babies are born". Times had really changed, the young mother infect invited me to come one evening at her place, and she could narrate even more such anecdotes since she has gathered many in her 7 years of motherhood

After the birthday cake was cut and the games were played, the kids settled down for a grub. Our generation bday parties of samosa , wafer and Rasna were replaced by the pizzas, garlic bread and coke. I joined the kids on the table, thinking this would be an interesting experience for me to learn from generation next.

10 year olds take on :-

Movies- All the kids watched all the latest movies whether it was Dhoom, KANK or even Nishabd. The kids almost agreed in unison that they liked to watch romantic movies and action films. A 10 year old boy tells me that he had watched Kuch Kuch Hota Hai and Main Ho Na at least 50 times on his personal DVD player. But now he loves to watch all the horror movies

Idea of day out – Playgrounds or gardens were something no one wanted to go to . They all liked to either go to In orbit mall or to watch a movie. Amusment parks were still ok .

Clothes- I asked the kids if they picked up their clothes, or they parents did. Most of the kids liked to pick up their own clothes. I asked them how did they know what was in fashion or not. Did they look at the clothes in movies and buy or otherwise. The birthday girl who is undoubtedly the smartest of the lot replied” Didi we are not so dumb, we have a sense of style, we know what looks good and what is in fashion, we don’t need movies to tell us that.”

Games- None of the girls liked to play with dolls, or play doctor doctor, or house, house. They liked to play Hide n Seek or practice the latest steps of some dance number. Dancing was really in. Boys liked to play video games or watch movies at home, no one liked any toys

On girl friends/ boyfriends - Obviously since I was talking to such a grown up set of children, I couldn’t resist asking them whether they had girlfriends or boyfriends. This is interesting. The three boys in the group immediately pointed at each other stating that they had girlfriends. My intelligent 10 year old friend tells me that the guy sitting next door has a girlfriend, but she has moved to London and he writes to her and all. With a little blush on his face, the boys says that no there is nothing like that, it was just that they were teasing him a lot so he just said that the girl in London was his girlfriend, she was just a friend.
My intelligent friend also refuses all the rumours about being linked to the girl who lives in the next building stating, that she is not my girlfriend but a girl who is a good friend of mine. She was new in school and she didn’t know anybody, so I became her good friend and this people started teasing me with her. Obviously our smarty pants couldn’t resist asking me the question, so he asked, "Didi you are asking us, what about you, you are so old, don’t you have a boyfriend?."

As the kids bid good bye to me, for a moment, I really wondered how times have changed, today’s children know so much more, It seemed like a different world had grown up when I was away.

Seed for Thought

2007-03-06T00:29:00.000-08:00

Its so complete.
But yet so empty.
Just like a movie which seems so perfect on screen.
Hiding the thousands of hard working beings behind the scene.

Just like the lovely picture of communal harmony
Our politicians and books paint for us, cremating the realities behind

Just like the thousands of people who blindly pledge their lives
To get betrayed in the name of religion

There seems to be so much happiness
But yet so much discontent inside.

Just like the smiles on those children’s faces
Who have buried their childhood behind.

Just like the sorrow hidden in the hearts of those people
Whose loves ones have drowned in to a volcano of religious clash

Just like the beautiful picture, we paint of the valley for us
Where thousands lead a life of survival in the atrocities of time

That brings me to a question.

What is the attraction of this thing called Life,
That we all want to survive even to fight against the hardships of time .

ON The Road Again - Cultural Back-pack trip - Update

2007-02-20T09:22:00.000-08:00

Day 3- Varanasi, missed Ayodhya in LucknowI wake up at 5:30a.m as i want to watch the sunrise at the ghats. The previous night experience has been tiresome roaming around the tiny bylanes and being followed by touts everywhere. The place am staying at Sakshi guest house is alright. Its doesnt look very fancy,its a neat room in a old haveli with a attached bathroom and hot water. For 150 bucks its great value for money.

At about 6:00a.m i am at the Ghats( cant remember the name now). The atmosphere is truly divine and the air is magical. The sun hasnt come out yet, but the calm river still wipped in fog welcomes you.I get myself a one and half hour boat ride across all the ghats. The interesting ones among them are Narad ghat, where you will find any one bathing, as its believed that if a mother in law and daughter in law come here together they are bound to fight. The Hareshchandra ghat is a place where dead bodies are burnt in a electric crematorium, not the best ghat to watch and Meer Ghat is where the bodies are burnt in the normal manner and sometimes dead bodies especially of saints are just dipped in the water. My boat guide did show me one of the dead bodies floating in the water.

Surprisingly atleast in the morning, the water seemed clean, the boat guide tells me that the nagarpalika cleans the water every night and much care is taken for its cleanliness now. I watch the sun rise right in front of me from my boat. The view is undoubtedly outstanding, and i wonder about the no of sunsets and sunrises i have seen over the past couple of weeks on my trip, otherwise back home there is hardly any time to notice natures marvels. The morning is the best time to be at the ghat, its less crowded and very peaceful. Ofcourse viewing the migrant birds flocking besides the river side is another noticeble feature.

After that divine experience, i continue it by going to the rooftop restaurant of Dolphin hotel which is nice modern hotel on the banks of the ganges and ofters an outstanding view from top. After a quick breakfast i start walking through the ghats to go to Assi ghat which is close to Banaras University and on the other end. Its a long walk but nice to walk through the ghats and watching the ganga, thankfully its not crowded like the small streets and not many touts bother u except a couple of boat riders here and there on one or two of the ghats who offer u a boat ride. I notice a lot of Sadhus at their camps, sometimes i really wonder how authentic they all are, there is a possibality that some of them may dress and behave like sadhus just to get a free living.

At Assi Ghat, there is a set being done for a kavi Samelam shot for IBN live, the location is fabulous i chat with the guy who is in charge of production, he tells me he can organise anything we want on the ghats and its costs about 2000 as rent. The IBN team invites me for the shot at 2 and insists i come, i tell them that i can hardly understand hindi poetry and i might have to catch a train at 1 in the afternoon, but they still insist, i smile and leave

Assi Ghat is AND IS the only place to stay in Varanasi. Its nice, quite and you will not be bothered by touts and there is plenty of nice accomadations, how i wish i had come here instead of going to the other end. Anyways its about 10:00 a.m and i have lots of work to complete yet if i want to catch the afternoon 2:00p.m train. I stroll through Banaras University and take a rick to Madanpura. Its the muslim mohalla in Varanasi and a great place to buy Banarasi sarees at wholesale prices. Unfortunately all the shops in Madanpura are still closed, i move to Jagdamvadi next to it and after looking at a huge pile of sarees rush back to my guest house with 6 sarees. Now i am in a real rush to reach the station. The train to Faizabad leaves at 2 and i need to catch it some how. The road is terribly crowded, i am a little shocked seeing a deadbody on tied up on top of jeep,with its relatives sitting inside the jeep.

Inspite of the rickshaw guy rushing me to the station i end up at the platform without the ticket and the train almost leaving the platform. Some people on the platform volunteer to help me board the running train, but i disagree.

After running through various ticket counters i am told the next train is at 5 and would reach faizabad at 11 in the night. So its a bad idea to take that,i am advised to try my luck on the bus. I go to the bus stand and there is a airconditioned bus leaving for Lucknow, the bus driver tells me that i could get off at Sulatanpur and go to Faizabad from there. He said it would reach by 5:30p.m. The important point is also to reach Faizabad at a decent time. I would stay there the night and go to Ayodhya from there the next morning. By the time i check around to find out how far sultanpur is from Faizabad and how well connected it is, my seat in the bus is gone, i end up going in the drivers cabin seat upto Jaunpur.

The ride from Varanasi to Lucknow passing through Jaunpur is nice. Bright green fields with big mango trees on both the sides. The view of sun bidding goodbye behind the big mango trees was truly phenomenal.I make a couple of enquires seated in bus, check with my navigator friend for the distance between sultanpur and faizabad once again, call the hotel in Faizabad and even call a hotel in Lucknow. I read about Ayodhya once again in my book, it says u cant take cameras etc, so my plan to go to Ayodhya gets little shaken up. By the time we reach Sultanpur its about 6:30 in the evening, its became so dark and there are hardly any lights on the road. After getting off from Sultanpur i would still have to go further 60km by local bus of whoes frequency i have to idea on. I would reach Faizabad by around 8:00 at night. The thought of going to a unknown city in UP in the night alone scared me and i decided against it and bought myself a ticket to Lucknow on the bus and made arrangements for my stay in Lucknow. Ayodhya unfortunately gets a miss on this trip, but saftely is more important so be it.

I like the concept of waking up in a new city every day, Over the last four days i have been a new city every single day, and tommorrow it will be Lucknow

ON The Road Again - Cultural Back-pack trip

2007-02-19T06:58:00.000-08:00

Day 1- Ticket to ride- Sunday- 18 Feb 07

I am still recovering from my road trip to Rajasthan, Gujarat and the day trip to Agra at my halt in Delhi, i finally wake up do some research and figure out a basic plan for my cultural extravaganza back-pack trip. Lucknow- Varanasi- Ayodhya- Allahabad-. I figured out that this was a circle so i could begin my trip from any location. My best bet was the Shatabdi to Lucknow but that was full too. I checked more than 30 trains on the internet going to Varansi, Ayodhya and Lucknow that night and can u belive it all were wait listed so i couldnt make a reservation online.

After a quick lunch at mall, and rushing the maid to iron my wet clothes i pack my stuff in a back-pack and leave in the radio taxi to New Delhi station. Radio Taxis are newly introduced in Delhi, they come within half hour of calling and charge 15rs per km its a electronic meter.

As i drive through Delhi, i admire the wide roads and the monuments, i pass by, i also love the feeling of not knowing which destination i am headed to as its completely dependant on the ticket i get. When i got of at New Delhi station at Ajmeri Gate- Ticket booking counter its about 4:30p.m and i am just amazed to see the huge lines in every window. No one knows anything, there is total chaos, i stand in a ladies line just to find out i cant get tickets in sleeper class or AC from this line. I move to another window, shatabi and rajdhani counter, the guy tells me all sold out, he advices me to just get into Rajdhani train standing on platrom 12 going to Mughal Serai and then ask the tC to make me a ticket. I think its a crazy idea coz it would reach Mughal Serai at 2 in the night and i would have to wait at the station and then take a bus or smthg to Varanasi. Anyways for the heck of it i enquire with the TC standing next to the train, he tells me its possible for 2500rs.

I go to Paharaganj ticket counter , which is again very crowded,i move from one line to other with no sucess, i also speak to a tout who is ready to give me a ticket in Shivganga Express for 1500rs, thats again a risky propostion both costwise and realiability wise. I finally get to something which seems like a right counter, i request the guy to give me a ticket to any destination varanasi, Allahabad or Lucknow, he laughs at me and tells me Magadh is full and for lucknow Mail i can try at 8pm,its full right now, i ask him to check for other trains, he asks me for train names, i dont remember them now, i remember my navigator friend at this time

In the middle of all these chaos i end up meeting two students from Banaras university, they are going back to banaras, they have one extra female ticket to magadh in sleeper class, i offer to buy it from them. They explain to me that the ticket is complicated, it belongs to a friend of theirs and has diffrent names and it cannot be canceled due to tatkal and if the TC is not ready to change names, so they advise me to buy a local ticket to Mughal Serai and then later adjust in the train. Later the two boys keep arguing about something in Bengali, i think its a better idea to part ways with them and figure out my own thing.

I enquire with a couple of TCs and they tell me that i can easily get in to the General compartment of Ladies in Magadh express. I didnt know wearing toe rings easily qualified one to be called as married women. As i chatted with the TC, he obivously was curious to know who i am and immediately told me that i was married and he guessed that by looking at my toe rings as in UP its a custom that only married women wear toe rings. Well i didnt say anything and will use this to my advantage as far as possible.

I wait at the platform, the train is late by two hours and all the platforms are crowded with humanbeings, there are numerous announcments of trains going to allabahad. Lucknow, Varanasi. I just wonder where do so many people go and come in UP. Inspite of having over 30 trains across 3 destinations you cant get a reservation in any class.

Finally the train arrives at 9:50 p.m and honestly looking at the crowd on that platform, i just thought i would have to go back home that night, but somehow i managed to get in and that two a window seat.In no time i had children and mothers sitting and then later sleeping in every inch of place around. Some Men managed to climb in to this compartment. For some reason the ride didnt seem to long and at about 8oclock i was at Alahabad station

Day 2 - Alhabad & Varanasi
One very good rickshaw guy leaves me to Sangam. The area from where i need to take the boat ride to watch the Triveni Sangam. The chacha warns me not to pay too much to the boat guy and comes all the way with me, inspite me asking him not to come. i like the way he calls me betiya,its sounds very sweet

I negotiate the price and for 300 bucks i take a boat ride from Jamuna river upto the Triveni Sangam. Its beautiful in the morning, so calm and peaceful, the river seems to be still wrapped in the winter fog. The triveni sangam is a mixture of three dharas(rivers) Jamuna which is green in colour,Saraswati which is yellow in colour and Ganga which is white in colour.

The boat rider is informative and he shows me the places around. The ride from Sangam Ghat to Triveni Sangam is beautiful, with ducks and flamingos for company. First he tells me about why the place is called Prayag, apparantely the fort which Akbar had built on the banks of the jamuna always kept falling down, he had a dream that if he sacrificed the Prayag Maharaj a wellknown priest and two elephants, it would stop from falling. RIght here on the banks of this river he was sacrificed and the fort stoppped from following. There is also an outlet from the fort where Akbar wife Jodhabhai would come for a dip in the river.

As we go further,my boat rider insists i do the three cocunut sacrifice in the water, i tell him, i am not too keen on doing it as it pollutes the water, but before i could say anything a pujari with a boats come closer and he gives me the coconut,he makes me say a couple of prayers and i give him some 20 -30 ruppes. I am very angry with him and boat rider when they try to force me to do a 10 kg bhog to ganga which would cost somthing 600 rs. I guess i have just got alert with the touts around.
I walk through the city of Allahabad, its much more alive now. The architechture of some of the temples here have a lot of Islamic influence, the domes are very similar to mosques. I notice a lot of gun shops on the way,but first i decide to freshen up by going to the best hotel in town. The Grand- Intercontinental is the only luxury hotel in Allahabad, its located in civil lines. I use the bathroom and have some breakfast and then decide to go and see the famous Allahabad university.

Its a long walk, but nice walk through old colonial houses. Allahabad has some very nice British houses and lot of modern bunglows in Civil lines area. After a lot of walking i finally reach the university. Its huge and its architecture again has a lot of islamic influence. A lot of domes around most of the building. But the best part are the lovely classrooms with carvings inside and the huge lawns where a lot of young boys and girl spend there so called studytime together:). The campus is spread across diffrent diffrents and simply magnificent with its beautiful buildings.

I am tired of the walking and ask a rickshaw guy to take me to Harivanchrai Bachchan`s house, we go through various small lanes only to find out it doesnt exist anymore, i sort of dont believe that ,but anyways i have to get to Varanasi before night so i forget about it. A stop to gun shop is a must

I visit ths gun shop called Shastralaya. The old men sitting at the shop are more then happy to show me around. They tell me that they sell guns only to those who have a license. A license can be availed from a DM and its takes about a month to get it. He showed me guns ranging from 25,000 rs to 2lakh rupees. He told me they are supposed to sell it to criminals but usually its ends up going to them

I reach the bus stand at about 3:00pm and i get on to the bus to varanasi. Its a 3 hour ride from Allahabad fopr Rs 75.I reach Varanasi and as i have read in the book am tired of getting rid of the touts and guides then come behind me. I want to stay at the ghat so i rickshaw, and this is where i see a sea of just people and rickshaws. its chaotic. I run pillar to post to find a hotel, but cant, its getting dark and almost every individual on the street is interested in knowing where am going, its difficult to keep them away. Finally i manage to find a room in a guest house run by family for 150 rs. I atleast have a roof now. I look forward to morning on the banks of ganges tommorrow

ON THE ROAD!

2007-02-17T08:33:00.000-08:00

photo courtesy- Sarfaraz Merchent(Pro-photographer in the making)

Over 35 hours behind the wheel ( with more than 2 flat tyers and one tyer burst)... 3000km of India`s scenic canvas ranging from the fields, to the desert and the forests.. 4 notorious characters. Adventure, Discovery & more

The route
(Mumbai- Surat- Ahmedabad- Himant Nagar- Palanpur- Sanchor- Barmer- Jaisalmer

Day 1- The beginning ( Friday- 9 Feb 07)

In the fading winter darkness of the morning I set out on this journey with 3 of my travelmates in quest of exploring the unknown. Although this is not really the beginning as our first stop is a wedding in Surat. Hardly had we reached the toll naka near Dahisar, that one of our travel mates opened one packet of Lays chips. He had got about 20 packets of Lays as he had a distributor for the product next door to his office. I immediately commented on How gujaratis love to eat all the time, and how their journey ends and begins with food. On the way to Surat, we halted at a Reliance petrol pump, and I was very impressed to find out that they provided facilities for shower for 20 bucks, I hoped to find such petrol-pumps on our long journey to Jaisalmer, as we might end up using one.

The highway from Bombay to Surat is well made and scenic, and with the good driving and speed of our travelmate we managed to reach Surat by about 10:30 in the morning. After gulping down some scrumptious breakfast of Ghee- Khakra, Ameri Khaman, Ghatiya and Jalebi we chatted with the bride, as the other two travel mates who weren’t supposed to attend the wedding set out in the heat to find something to do in Surat.

Surat
Surat has nothing to do, It’s a very crowded city and the only thing you could probably do is go to the Kapda Bazzar. In the afternoon we go to the Bombay Market which is a huge market selling saris and dress material. Its fascinating to see the colours and the chaos. Although we are quite unsuccessful in finding a simple kurta in this market which our friend wants to wear for the wedding as he ended up coming with the wrong clothes. If you are looking for something classy and simple then Bombay Market is not the place to shop for you.

Boredom and the need to rest compels our other two travelmates to find themselves a place to rest in a dingy little guest house. One of them has to drive in the night so the sleep is definitely needed

At about 10:30p.m in the evening we are done with the wedding and after many goodbyes we are finally ready to hit the road to Jaisalmer. The four of us have never seen a desert and we are quite excited to visit one.

Day 2 – On the road to Jaisalmer – ( Sat- 10 Feb 07)

Its about 12am now and we are on our way to Ahmedabad. One of the travel mates the morning driver is already zonked for the day. One of them our navigator who has religiously studied the road route sits in the front directing our third travelmate who is driving. My head is spinning and I have this desire to drink tea. Since the journey had just began, my travel mates are still very civil to me and are adhering to all my demands and requests.

The dhaba where we stop for chai is buzzing with truck drivers and their are some of them even with their families. We all wonder how difficult life would be for them traveling all the time.

The Ahmedabad express highway is mind-blowing, after crossing ahmedabad and various queries we end up taking a shorter route through a short cut near Himmat nagar. As we drive through this small road we can see nothing but trees, we do hope to find a ghost somewhere on the way, but there is nothing accept the silence of the night.

In the morning when we reach Palanpur, we halt at a petrolpump and I am just delighted to know that we have toilet paper with us, thanks to one of our travelmates who is in the tissue paper business. Our navigator friend opens the map on the bonnet of the car again trying to read the route map. Jaisalmer is still about 400-450km away.

Its time to swap drivers, and our day driver travel mate begins his journey. From Palanpur we need to get to to Barmer via Sanchor. We take a short-cut road which turns out to be a bad idea coz the road is dug up and bad. Rajasthan raods are not as good as the Gujarat roads, that’s a striking difference between both the states

The drive is scenic with just fields on both sides, the chakdo( a special type of rickshaw, which front is made up of a bullet bike and a square block behind for people to sit inside). At about 1:00p.m we halt for some food at a Dhaba. The Dhaba is well equipped with khatiyas and small separate dinning areas under huts. The food consisting of the dal, mixed veg is extremely oily, but the parathas are nice. I am a little sad seeing the young boy who is serving us food. He must be hardly 10-15 years old and here he is earning a living for himself

On the road further we see a little bit of the desert, but it not barren, its green. All our hopes of seeing a actual desert are getting shattered, maybe the desert we imagined was just in the movies and not in real. At about 3pm we reach Jaisalmer, after a series of debate we decide to stay in the fort.

The Fort offers a variety of accommodation for the budget traveler. Our first stop is a nice hotel call Surya, but since it has squat toilets I request the other three to look for other options. We finally reach a place called Maharajas Haven or Surya Palace, and find ourselves a good room after a little bargaining for 600 bucks. The room called the dream room with a outside balcony provides a spectacular view of the golden city from the fort. This is no palace hotel, but just a small house with couple of bedrooms and baths and a restaurant at the terrace The clouds are already out and in no time it begins to pour and our dream room turns into a rainy room.

The manager- Manubhai tells us that rains are very uncommon in Rajasthan that the room is not equipped to handle the rains, he shows us another room below which is saved from the rain. Once the rain stops in the evening we set out to find a mosque for one of our mates who needs to offer his evening prayers. I am fascinated walking through the tiny lanes of the main bazzar. We stop at a saree shop to buy some sarees which one of them needs to take back home. The saree shopkeeper is friendly and tells us about the Desert Safari, advises us to go only after the rain stops, while our navigator friend ends up chatting to some one else at the Phone booth to get some information on the Safari. He also finds out that Tanot( I kept calling it Taukhat for some reason) about 200 kms away which is on the Pakistan border is also interesting place to visit. They don’t allow you to go upto the border but just near the village where there is a temple.

We all wanted to stay in a village or a desert for atleast a day, so this seemed like a interesting proposition, if we could get to stay in the village near the border

We wait for our travel mate to come back from his prayers as we sip some coffee and savour some cake at the German bakery round the corner. Our pasta fanatic friend has seen the Italian restaurant- Little Italy at the fort and we all go there for dinner. I look at a Hajam shop and enquire if I can get a oil hair massage, the guy agrees for 45 bucks but my friends think it’s a bad idea for me to get one and convince me to forget about it

The restaurant- Little Italy has a nice ambience, with table and chair seating and Indian style seating. We choose the Indian style seating and place our orders. The pasta is slightly uncooked and when we argue with the manager, he tells me this is authentic pasta, and everyone here( mainly the firangs) like it that way.

Day 3 – Jaisalmer & Desert Safari (Sunday- 11 Feb 07)

We all have a good sleep, and wake up quite late. At about 11:30 we proceed for breakfast at our hotel. It’s a nice sunny day and Savan a young boy comes to take our order. We eat as if we haven’t eaten for ages, Plates full of burjis, porridges, cereals, pakodas and toast gets wiped up in a matter of time.

Savan- The little rockstar

Savan is about 15 years old, he has been working in this hotel for about a month or so now. He is in charge of cooking as well as serving the food. He has a distinct, innocent smile on face. He is from a village close by and his father was not to keen that he studied so he dropped out of school and came here to take this job. The boy is very sweet and is more to happy to sit and chat with us every day when we go for breakfast. We ask him if there is any small village which is in a desert, where we could go and stay. He tells us about Tanot and the surrounding villages but advises us to take the Desert Safari

After a series of discussions with Manu Bhai the manager of the hotel, we finally take the safari for 550 rupees a person which would include to transport to a village near Khuri, a camel ride in the desert, accommodation under the sky with gaddis and rajai along with food. We walk around the bazzar and in to the lanes of the city to locate our other two namazi friends who have gone to the mosque to offer their prayers. I am amazed to see the small houses, all like little havelis with some carving, all of golden stones. An interesting feature to be noted is, that whenever there is a wedding in any of the house, the wedding invitation is painted on a white patch on the wall of the house. So we pass through various such invitations of weddings which have already happened from 97- 2007.
On one tiny crossroad, I come across a group of women are chatting which each other, they smile at me and the chatterbox that I am we start chatting. They tell me that its Sunday, so they are relaxed as their husbands are sleeping and they are finished their morning chores of cooking etc. My other friend is troubled by the running children around who want to look at the pictures in the camera

We do locate a mosque, but just to find out that are friends are not in that mosque so we walk further to find a mosque called Jama Masjid. At first some people think we are crazy trying to locate Jama Masjid in Jaisalmer. Anyways we finally find our friends and rush to the hotel, as we have to leave for the desert safari at 3pm.

Still much more to write... about the next 5 days.. Watch out

Mumbai Marathon – Toast to the spirit of Mumbai - 21 Jan 07

2007-01-22T23:27:00.000-08:00

Having snoozed the alarm a couple of times I woke up with a start at 6am with the fear that I ,might just miss the marathon. Although with the little sleep and the tiring schedules that I had been having over the past couple of days, I wouldn’t mind missing it. As I boarded the train to Churchgate the atmosphere around seemed charged. It didn’t really seem like a sleepy cozy winter Sunday morning as I saw a few people dressed in tracks and running shoes waiting for the train

The train ride was so peaceful and beautiful as it passed through the little green patches in Goregaon, Parle, Khar Bandra and all through ,I could seen the orange twilight of the dawn and orange sun shinning brightly.

The journey When I got off the train at Marine lines station, I noticed a lot of more people walking in different colored t-shirts were walking along with me to the Corporate challenge area from where we would all began our run. As I walked through the lanes to Metro from Marine Lines, I couldn’t help but notice some of the most oldest and beautiful buildings across the road. They all seemed nice and bright this morning. I loved the smell of the fresh bread which was being baked at Kayani Bakery.

I spotted my gang all dressed in the orange T- shirt which I ignored to wear completely , I was running as part of my company contingent and running for Women`s cancer initiative After a wait of over a hour and half and a passing through various lines we finally began running

The Run—6 km (VT- Nariman Point- Mafatlal club- Flyover- Metro)
The atmosphere was charged, and wherever I looked I could just see people. At various spots we had the traditional dhool wala, people dressed in different outfits. Although the most annoying part was the hundreds of people who were walking not running, one had to find their way through this walking people. Maybe next year they should have a separate line for people who want to walk and not disrupt people who want to run.

The run from VT to Church gate was nothing phenomenal, except the running fountain at Flora fountain, but when I reached the bay area near Jazz By the Bay I was so taken aback by the beautiful view of Mumbai`s skyline. The sea seemed to wrapped in a thin fog and looked so peaceful and calm. I just couldn’t take my eyes off it all the way till I reached the Mafatlal baug near the flyover which we were supposed to take to get down to Metro. The only dangerous part of it was ensuring I don’t fall down as I was looking on the side instead of looking in the front. When I got on the flyover the view was ecstatic. On one side I could see a sea of people, the enthusiasm, the energy, and the other was the calm sea which seemed to be smiling just as the helicopters passed by.

When I got of the flyover and moved towards the Metro Cinema, I noticed the beautiful Fire temple. The old buildings, Braboun Irani café, the now not operational Parsi Dairy Farm. On one such neatly carved old building which was probably 5 storey tall, I noticed two old Parsi women chatting. I wondered how Bombay would have been for them 30-40 years ago. It was just about a 45 min run and I had seen another brighter side of Bombay
I saw the Bombay spirit in action as I walked back in to the holding area ground I saw a group of rag pickers standing with huge plastic bags urging me to put my plastic bottle in their bags

All in all, it was wonderful running for a marathon which gave me an opportunity to explore my city in a new light.

Shashikala- An inspiring life

2007-01-14T23:25:00.000-08:00

In the month of July, somewhere in 1920`s in the tiny bylanes of Agra, behind the Taj Mahal in an area called Namak Mandi a girl was born to Brijbhushan Das & Revaben. It was an old house owned by the Ghanshyam Das, a well known judge during the British times. It was a huge house with a small backyard, considering the numerous births in the household, there was a separate room built for delivery of children, and a dedicated mid-wife to the family.Hospital delivery were unheard of in that era

The parents were probably delighted to see the birth of beautiful daughter, after all till now they had just had sons, and having a daughter was a welcome delight. She was white as snow white, and nothing less than a princess from a fairy tale. She was named as Shashikala, but her naughty brothers named her Chhocho, pronounced as Chho chho as they couldn’t pronounce the word Shashikala too well. In the intial years of her childhood, mother took special care of the daughters, feeding them, ignoring the brothers.

In the early years, as she along with her sisters laughed and fought with the brothers after being the victim of the numerous pranks like tying their braids together, silently putting a handful of leftover seeds in their mouth, Somewhere in the native place of her Mother, Reva ben`s, native town, Kapadwanj in Gujarat her marriage was fixed by a aunt in a house to a man, whom, not only she but even her parents had never meet. They were just a known family to her parents who had a son aged 20 years, so they decided to fix the wedding with this girl then probably aged 10.

It was probably just another holiday to Kapadwanj, when Shashikala got married in the ancestral home in Kapadwanj., She was 15 years old and she had no idea what marriage was, she was just too happy to wear the new clothes and have a feast.

When she saw her husband and his family for the first time, she wondered what was wrong, what was she doing with a family who was completely dark skinned. She was white as a snow- white and her husband black as coal and ugly looking. She felt like a celebrity for the first couple of years. She looked like a white doll and people from neighboring households came to watch her beauty. They all joked in Gujarati “ Kagro, Daithro layegayo” which basically means the crow took the diamond.

Settling in Kapadwanj, was not to easy for Shashikla, having brought up in Agra and Haldwani, they had always spoken in Hindi, she didn’t know to read or write Gujrati, the common language in the town. The only comforting factor was a good mother in law. Just as we learn to live with our circumstances, Shashikala accepted her new life and moved on. She had two sons and just when life seemed to be going smooth her husband died.

She was 25 years old when her husband died. She was determined that she was not going to live a life of pitiful widow who is rushed from one house to other to do errands. She wanted to take care of her children and give them a good future. With a supportive mother in law, Shashikala enrolled herself to read and write Gujarati. She took help from Prof, who taught her. As usual people did make stories about her and Prof, but she never let any such rumors come her way to become a teacher. She appeared for the exam and after passing that exam, she went to Teachers college almost 4 hours away from Kapadwanj. For 2 years she selflessly lived at the hostel and studied to become a teacher.

When she came back she, got herself a job at a local school and taught upto 4th grade for over 30 years, got her two sons educated and today at the age of almost 78 , she still fends for herself getting a pension every month

Shasikala is someone who has inspired me so much. A women who never had a choice to paint her future, But when did get the brush in her hand, she was determined to turn her life brighter. She took her plight as a challenge and beautifully wiped away her worries. There must have been a million aspirations and dreams of her own which she must have cremated in her heart, all for her children`s future.

Today, Shasikala is almost 79 years old, She shuttles between her grandchildren houses and hers from Kapadwanj and Bharuch, playing with her great- grand children. Her health is not in the best of conditions, but she is happy and she has no desire. She is proud of being financially independent. She gets a pension of over 4,000 rupees a month which is even more than the salary she ever earned, and is more than sufficient to take care of her expenses. She thinks that god actually gave her a new life, when her husband died. The path was challenging but the end was very rewarding.

Most importantly Shashikala is my grand aunt, my grandfather’s sister. I, now, know where I and many of my cousins and aunts get our nature and abilities, it runs in the family.

Life

2007-01-10T03:52:00.000-08:00

29 DEC 2001

Just when his face shined the most
And we thought it could be a beginning to a new life

Just when his melodious voice echoed with a folk song
And when we thought it was just his way to express his happiness

Just when he smiled the most inspite of all the pricking and poking of the pins
And thinking it was a fairy tale of Dracula’s sucking blood

Just when he knew that he has seen his new abode above
And we prayed for a miracle to happen

Just when he lay in transit awaiting the time for his new abode
And we stood there seeing the heart beats on that machine blink

Just when life & death played hide & seek
And left it to us to decide what the end could be

Time stood by and bid goodbye to the brightest star that shined that morning
With the most valuable lesson that life could ever leave behind

A lesson to spread the happiness & goodness around

Southern Escapade- Pondicherry

2006-12-15T09:06:00.000-08:00

Day 1 – Friday December 15, 2006

Well the day began at an early hour as i needed to be on time for the wedding ceremony of my best friend in Chennai. The thumping music of karnatic Shenani along with the fascinating rituals and the scrumptious breakfast( called Tiffin) served on a banana leaf along with the typical south Indian coffee managed to keep my spirits lighted.

Breakfast or Snack is called Tiffin in South India.The breakfast consisted of pongal, dosa, mendu vada and idli with onion chutney, sambhar and mulga poodi.
Once i finished with the wedding moved to the hotel and did some enquiry about the bus stand and places to stay. I spoke to someone in Pondicherry who sort of confirmed a reservation for me for 500 bucks but on this trip i have just been having a bad luck with hotel reservations as later on when I reach Pondicherry I find out there is no reservation.

Anyways i get to the Chennai Mylamore( am not sure of spelling) Bus station. The Bus station looks like an airport. It is the largest bus station in Asia. They accept credit cards for booking tickets. Anyways i get into my local ST bus at about 5pm, and buy my ticket for 105 rupees to Pondicherry.

For first hour or so we are still getting out of the city, i am not too impressed by the way the city is placed, small roads, traffic and overcrowded. As we come to Beach way, the view is outstanding, however not for too long as it gets dark soon, it would be fun to ride through this road in daylight. On the seat next to me is seated a sleepy mother with a sleepy kid.

At about 830pm I reach Pondicherry and haggle with the rick guy for a price to go to Beach area where my hotel is. The Hotel Park Guest house which i am told a reservation is made for me says there isn’t any. Anyways am glad i didn’t stay there as they have deadline of 10:30p.m.

So I walk around through 3-4 hotels but all of them are too expensive. Finally i see this place Duma guest house which is sweet little house owned by some French family. Bala the owner & manager comes and shows me the room, i negotiate the price and finally settle in. He recommends me to check out Le Club a fancy French restaurant across the street although a little expensive. Its a nice place with good ambience, serving authentic French food and Vietnamese. I liked the salad. After dinner, I go looking for a cybercafe

Walking through the streets around 10 is not very exciting. As the place is dead. But people are helpful, one guy directs me to coffe.com which is supposedly a coffee and net browsing place and open 24 hours. The way to this place is through a n array of narrow streets I pass through a really nice Masjid and some lovely houses. I am looking forward to exploring the places around tommorrow
Bon Jor

Day 1 update- Just when i thought this was the end of an un eventful day for me, i didnt know i had something more in store for me. After posting my post on the blog, i chatted with the family who runs the place and casually mentioned about a friend an elderly lady who i had meet in Chennai that morning. It so happened that the family also knew my elderly friend and by chance her best friends son was also sitting there. As soon as my excitement settled down i decided to walk to my hotel. A new place, no idea of roads, no people to give directions i definately lost my way after walking a couple of kms and approached the traffic police station to ask for directions.
When one of the helpful personnel’s there told me that I had walked in opposite direction and my hotel is 2 kms away, i gave the look of a helpless girl who didn’t know how to go and would not even find a cycle or auto to get home. So the kind police inspector dropped me to my destination. When i got to my hotel, Dumas guest house, i realized i was the only guest living in that big Mansion. Chances of meeting a ghost were plenty but i guess I was too tired and fell asleep

Day 2 Saturday, December 16,2006

I woke up at about 7am and realized that the place am staying was not a real hotel but a guest house, so no drinking water and no chai. So i walked around the streets looking for coffee and chai. The tea stall was buzzing with activity, idlis being made, vadas being fried but there was time for tea or coffee as he was waiting for milk. After my previous night experience first thing i wanted was a cycle. I asked the tea stall vendor for a cycle hire shop. He directed me to one. I hired my cycle for 30rs a day. I told him i wanted it for 2 days. For 50 bucks i had the Lady bird ms india cycle with a nice basket in the front to keep my bags. As I pedaled through the streets i felt like i had wings with my cycle. I cycled through the bazaar looking for a nice cafe. I passed through the busy street but could hardly find anything.

On this busy street the i meet this french guy, Francis on his cycle. Francis was from France and he had a high-tech cycle with gears. He had cycled from Bombay to Pondicherry clicking ver 5,000 pictures. It took him 2 months to get here. He directed me to a place called Daily bread .

Daily Bread is a nice air conditioned bakery restaurant serves excellent coffee and croissants and is very reasonable Rs10(coffe) and Rs 8 (crosissant). I read some local news and then ride to Aurobindo Asharam to check out what its all about. On my way I pass through my company`s office although its closed at its just 9am
When i reach my guest house, i meet Bala the guy who owns the guest house. He tells me that his family has been living here for 100 years now. The house he lives is over 200years old. I invite myself to see his house when he is free. The guest house has some company as some tourists rent the rooms upstairs.

After a bath, i get on my Dhanno the cycle and go to the Pondicherry museum in quest of finding the history of this place. Unfortunately the Musuem has not much history as such except some interesting vehicles that were used by the French and Governor Dupliex house stuff. I visit the library next door, after searching for over an hour in the history section i don’t even find one book, but i find this old man who pretends to be helping me and gives me a book in Malayalam or Tamil. Finally some one directs me to the other side of the library. After searching again i can hardly find anything. I am so upset, how can they have a library without a single book on the French rule or history of Pondicherry, i decide i need to go to goggle immediately. Luckily i find a reference- fact book on Pondicherry.

Pondicherry or Pudichary means the new settlement. Originally discovered by French, was captured by British for a short time but was given back to them by some treaty. Remained a independent French colony till 1954 or 58 post which the colony handed over the powers to India.

Back on my cycle, something seems to be wrong with the handle and the brakes,so i go back to the cycle shop, and this time i am given sturdy cyle (Bhaiya cycle as a friend of mine would call it) with heavy stand. I am enjoying cycling thorough the streets, the Rui Rollaind and Rui Suffrus etc passing through the lovely colonial homes and it so peaceful. I feel like am in some different era

All the cycling has got me tired its about 2pm i go to Kerala Ayurveda and get myself a foot massage. After this at about 3pm i begin my journey to Auroville which is about 14 km away. The ride initially is nice when i am crossing through sea area. The Sea is beautiful nice and blue. But driving through the market and ECR is tough. I have to be so careful. People driving on the wrong side, cycles or bikes not honking when they are behind or honking when they are not even close by. I wish my cycle has a mirror. Finally i reach Auroville where i see another Daily bread cafe. i walk in and enquire about the ashram. The guy advises me not to take my cyle there as it is a very long drive through hills and would be dangerous while coming back. I haggle with a rick guy and for 160 bucks take a round trip.

Auroville wants to be a universal town where men and women of all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony above all creeds, all politics and all nationalities. The purpose of Auroville is to realise human unity.

Auroville is a very nice and green, it would be a nice place to stay and do some volunatary work. Unfortunately I am a little late so I cant get to see the Matra Mandir the huge gold globe from inside as the tickets for that are sold only till 4pm. The visitor center is nice having a lot of interesting things to shop. I walk from the visitor center to the Matru Mandir in hope of getting a opportunity to get inside. When I reach Matru Mandir which about a 15 min walk from the visitor center the guard tells me I cant go in. Its already getting dark and I also want to see the auroville beach, so I do not wish to waste any more time walking.

I try to get a lift for this 15 min ride. A wave out to a girl riding a kinetic and take a lift from her. She tells me that she lives in Pondicherry but works as an Engineeer in Auroville. She thinks am a little a crazy to cycle upto Pondicherry from Auroville. The Rickshaw guy is informative on our way back he shows me the guest houses where people stay and the Solar Kitchen where food is cooked for all the guests. I request him to take me to the beach as it is highly recommended by one of my friends.

Auroville beach is one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. In the twilight of the evening it looked so beautiful with the coconut trees, blue water, the breeze, I just didn’t want to leave but the thought of riding the cycle back in dark coaxed me to leave soon.

Cycling back to Pondicherry was tough. Firstly the roads are not well lit, Cyclists and motorists would come from any direction, riding through narrow roads and busy streets was tough. Also when motorists flashed their car lights from opposite direction it was difficult to see ahead. I wish my cycle had gears, rare view mirror and headlights.

Finally when I reach Pondicherry I decide that its time to treat my self to a good meal at a nice restaurant. So I head to the Le- Orient which is a very classy French colonical hotel with a courtyard restaurant. It is a heritage property owned by the Nimrana group of hotels. The courtyard restaurant looked so beautiful , lit with candels and a band playing some good music. Unfortunately they had a set menu consisting of all the four courses for 350 bucks but all the items were non vegetarian and they couldn’t replace it with veg dishes.

So I go to another restaurant across the street on the rooftop called Rendevous . I am quite tired getting off and on the bike and parking it. Parking the cycle is a little bit of a problem as it has heavy stand. This is where I get a valet to park my cyle. I am so thrilled by this, actually the watchman there saw me struggling with the parking so he offered to park it and even the lock the cycle for me.
Rendevous restaurant is typical rooftop restaurant with cane furniture . The food options are plenty from sandwiches, Italian, Indian. I just settle for a veg sizzler. After my valet gets my cycle for me I decide to go to coffe.com to write about today and have some good coffee, although I am very tired.

At coffe.com the computer are occupied so I just sit down with my lonely planet on a table and chit chat with Daisy the girl who runs the place. Kevin and Silkh sitting on the next table borrow my Lonely Planet and then we start chatting with each other.

Kevin is from UK and he used to work for an NGO before he quit his job to come here 3 weeks ago. Silkh is a photographer and she is from Germany, she has come to Kolkata on a project and after the project was over she came to Auroville. Both of them tell me that they are very bored in Auroville as everything closes there by 830 and the other people living in their community don’t interact too much so they come here in the evenings. I recommend them Andaman & Nicobar Ilands and Mahabaliopuram to explore around.

We talk about everything from the culture differences, to the good food places in Pondicherry. Suddenly Kevin happens to tell me about a Organic restaurant he used to run in one of the suburbs of France in the countryside. We start talking and explore the idea of starting a restaurant in Pondicherry . We discuss everything from the profile of customers, cost of setting up a place etc

Its about 1130p.m and the three of us wonder if we could go to a bar which would open in Pondicherry. Daisy at coffe.com tells us chances were nil but we could still try. We walk through the narrow quiet streets to the waterfront, where the restaurants and bars are shut. In desperation we also visit a local bar which is also closed.Finally we settle down for italino icecream which is the only thing available at that hour. The two of them look for a rickshaw to get them to Auroville, the normal bargaining happens. Since its almost the rickshaw guy is asking for a bomb,i recommend them the idea of going to a police station and asking them to drop them since they have lost the way.
At the corner we meet another french gentelmen who is parking his car to enter his neat house. He tells us that he is from Paris and he is staying here with his family doing some research for the french institute. His research is on the water problems of south india. The three of us wonder why would a French company want to research on the water problems in India, till we conclude that it could be coz a French water pump company maybe funding the research. Finally we find a rick and the two of them head back to Auroville and i settle in to my little house

Day 3 Sunday,December 17,2006

After a peaceful sleep I wake up at about 9 am and set out to go to the Sacred Heart Church . Loads of people buzzing in and out of Sunday Mass. The church is beautiful. After that I cycle towards the French cemetery. I am told that the French cemetery is very interesting as all the grave yards have nice facades build over it. After asking a couple of people who cant understand what am looking for I reach the French cemetery.

At the French cemetery there are 3 women busy working. They say something to me in Tamil which I cannot understand. But I guess when I remove my camera she understands I am here to click pictures of the facades, thus she directs me from one interesting façade to the other. Some of them have writing in tamil, whereas some have it in English and French. Some of facades on the tombs are like little chapels.

Then I cycle to my favourite breakfast place Daily Bread and try out some Brio che although am not to impressed by it and settle in for some coffee and crossoint . Outside I end up chatting with a driver of one of the tourist vehicle an ambassador to ask him for directions to the beach. He thinks I have come from Kolkata from some strange reason .

Anyways its already 11:00, and I get the feeling that the beach is too far so I decide to just make a visit to the cybercafe, return my cycle to hire shop and check out the liquors shop. I do not find anything interesting to buy at the liquor shop so I walk back to my little house, clear my dues with Bala and get on a rick to go to Bus stand. I am going to a friends house to spend the night in Chennai. She stays at Kotivakam.

All the buses I enter in to the drivers are so rude, just as I utter the word Kotivakam they ask me to get down. Finally I get into one bus. The ride on the East Coast road is something I am really looking forward . Stangely the ticket is 55 rupees instead of the 105 rupees I paid on my way from Chennai to Pondicherry.

The ride on ECR road is out of the world, the fields the lovely blue beaches, sea. I would just love to live here by the ocean.

Finally I reach Kotivakam and locate my friends house. She has her nieces over two very cute little girls. Children are so much fun. With the girls we visit the Velankani Shrine at Bassinagar and move to the beach next to it which is so crowded. The girls enjoy themselves with a ride on the horse and the cartwheels

We go for dinner at nice Italian restaurant called Bala Chaio on Kotivakam beach. The restaurant is on a nice huge bunglow with a huge courtyard. The tables are laid out in the backyard. The place is run by an Italian lady and serves some good authentic Italian food although it’s a little expensive even compared to Bombay standards

A trip to tamil land can never end without a Tamil movie. So myself and my friend go to this sort of local theatre. The show is at 945p.m but we are almost there 45 mins prior to the show. We buy are tickets for 35 bucks and wait for the gates to open

In the theatre they have no national anthem practice, slowly slowly people start walking in. The theatre is full inspite of being a Sunday night and some people are actually standing and watching the movie in the balcony.

The name of the movie is E means fly. The actor is Jeeva and actress is Sadaah. The movie has an interesting plot it is based on how these American companies are sending their medicines to be tested on Indian.
The hero jeeva lives in a chawl does a little bit of hera pheri and a doctor who is pioneering this scam calls him and gives him a job to rob a dead body from the morgue. In the middle of this the actress Sadaah a dancer in a restaurant shifts with her family next door to Jeeva. Jeeva helps her to set up the house stealing some stuff. After about half and hour we decide to leave as the whole episode of robbing the dead body from the morgue was getting a little creepy. The atmosphere smelled of country liquor and whistles on the action scenes of the actor. I had a early morning flight the next day so we decided to leave.
This was the end of my refreshing Southern escapade

Ride to Glory

2006-12-02T23:29:00.000-08:00

6 bikes, a rollercoaster ride through the scenic waterfronts of Bombay, & 140 minutes of pedaling action, lead us to the Gateway of India

The idea
It all began on a Wednesday evening on my way back home from work when one of my friend called me asking me to make some interesting Sunday plan. After all the conventional options he himself, suggested the idea of cycling in the city. Cycle rides have always fascinated me, infact I was amazed by the special cycle paths in parks in US, and My friend, let me call him the Event manager and he actually is one by profession, although he organizes events which can change peoples life sometimes for the good and sometimes for the bad(decoration business). So our organsier connects the other two friends on a conference call.
Where should we ride? Where will the bicycles come from? Who else will join us ? Should we start bicycling at night? What about 4am? Will any one wake up on a Sunday morning ?
After a lot of discussion we decided that we shall bicycle from Carter road, Bandra to Gateway of India exploring all the waterfronts on the way on Sunday morning. Our organizer ensured he would arrange for the bikes and we agreed that if no one else comes, the three of us will definitely go on this expedition. Honestly I did not expect any one to come as I know of very few people who would like to give up their Sunday sleep for a crazy thing like this. Nevertheless we flooded inboxes with email and sms, but got just best wishes as responses. Three of our organizer, the Event Managers friends agreed to join us

Getting the cycles
My friend, the Event manager had a big task ahead of arranging those cycle.17 pages of Google search, help line searches and cycle dealers contacts all proved futile in arranging the cycles on hire. Cycles on hire were available in Bandra but they were the Bhaiya cycles which would have been difficult to ride. Our Event manager finally got hold of someone in Dongri who took him to a hire shop located in a patli gali ( narrow lane ) of Bori Mohala. For 75 rupees each we had the cycles. This is where the resources of our event manager came as good help. He loaded those cycles in his tempo and transported them to his home in Bandra. I think our Event Manager friend definitely deserves a shabashi for his resourcefulness

Morning alarms
My biggest fear was that I would land up in Bandra at 5am just to find out that the other bikers are still sleeping. So from the previous night I kept reminding the computer geek friend who stays in the same building to wake up our Event Manager friend, and if he doesn’t wake up then to bang his door. In turn I kept reminding the Event Manager friend to remind the CA friend and his brothers to be on time

The journey
With the thought of mistakenly snoozing the alarm haunting me, I could hardly sleep so after completing my morning chores I left home at 4.30a.m I called the other people just to ensure they would be awake. It was dark but still seemed a little crowded, with people waiting at the ST bus stands, elder women rushing to the temple, people happily sleeping on the road, jain monks , newspaper suppliers unwrapping the papers, doodhwalas rushing to complete their deliveries.

Kickstart
At 5:15a.m when I reached our Event Managers building compound in Bandra. It was in action as the others were busy removing the bikes from the garage. We pedaled through the dark streets of Bandra to Mahim causeway where we halted to debate on the route we would take. It was too dark yet to have a look at the scenic sea. I demanded rather commanded we go through Shivaji and other six unfortunately had no choice but just agree.
As we cycled through Shivaji Park and moving to Worli Sea face I looked at the other cycle riders that we passed by and thought we were hardly any different from the doodhwalas and bhaiyas who use the cycle to go around. At Worli Sea face we were surprised to see so many people walking we also saw a few professional bikers. It was still a little dark for us to get a good view of the sea. Moving further near the race course we got to see the first ray of Sunlight a beautiful orange twilight on our left. Haji Ali at Mahalaxmi was still waking up to the morning. It was nice to ride through Tardeo, and Nana chowk and watch the old buildings of Wilson college.
The sun was almost out but hold on when we reached chowpatty I was just lost seeing the beauty of the sea which was still wrapped in its Sunday slumber with a thin line of fog. The ride from chowpatty to Nariman point was magical, although it could have proved dangerous as I was hardly looking in the front and looking at the sea, but thanks to the other bikers vision behind I managed.
In just a few minutes we were at our destination Gateway of India. The sun was waiting for us. After taking a short break and doing the touristy stuff of taking pictures we moved to our final destination in Dongri where we had to drop the cycles.

Riding through fort
I have always been very fond of walking through the bylanes in fort area and watching the buildings around. So we took the back road to go to Dongri passing through, Asiatic Libarary, RBI, Horniman circle and when I looked at the Marshal & sons building I couldn’t help but think of Dadaji and sofas. Then we passed through the Dockyard area which really saddened me. I looked at those Slums filled with people just surviving. I looked at those children for whom the busy street was playground and could also turn into death ground. But these children were happily playing their little games devoid of the dangers that may come their way. Finally we reach Dongri at our Event Managers office and wake ups his oversmart office peon.
The peon runs to get anda bhurji, inspite of me telling him not to go as I want to go to the restaurant and eat and not eat in the naphthalene smelling office of our Event Manager. By now I guess other six bikers have had enough of my bullying and they are not ready to take it any more and thus they also don’t join me to Café Naaz. At the counter I ask the elderly uncle to give me brun pav with double maska and one chai without sugar. He tells me Beti Betho. I look around to find some interesting characters around, At the adjoing table I see 3 men draped in a pathani and sporting the red ghamcha, to me they could be anyone from a normal trader to a terrorist, or maybe even a spy. I take my parcel and move to the office next door to join the others. Later we all walk to Sandhurst road station and take our train home
All in all it was nice adventure ride. I think maybe I should probably buy a bike and ride to places over a weekend. Next bike trip could be to Manori.
Any takers ?

The Special cracker... A short story

2006-10-21T22:31:00.000-07:00

Ting Tong.Ting Tong Pattu, presses her fingers excitedly on her doorbell. Reva ben the domestic help of the household opens the door; Pattu flings her bag on the sofa, removes, rather dumps her shoes in the shoe rack and zooms in, to the kitchen where her mother is busy stacking some washed crockery a part of her Diwali cleaning.

‘ Yahoooooooooo, Mummy, exams are over, no more padhai for one month'.
‘Yes beta, Ave tamera Ghodha chutha.’ She remarks in Gujrati (A Gujrati proverb implying the horses are free from their stable to run)

‘Mummy, give me money, we are going to Goldcoin, the fancy ice-cream parlour for our exam over celebrations’.
Pattu and her schoolmates had a ritual to celebrate the end of their exams over an ice-cream.

Ok beta, but how was your paper? Paper was ok. So are you going to be first in class?
No, Mummy, how can I come first, there are many more smarter girls in the fourth grade.

As the days pass by Pattu`s excitement of Diwali vacation slowly fizzles out just like the dough fizzling out in circles from the sancho into the frying pan to form chakris which her mother is busy preparing. Pattu`s father who had just come out of an elephant bath and is a total foodie, grabs a bite of the chakri.
‘Hmm, its not soft enough, you haven’t mixed the dough well. When you do the next lot call me, ill show you a better method.’

Papa I am really bored of my vacation, I have nothing to do. This was a very common line repeated by Pattu every vacation.

Ok, Lets do some Rangoli, her father remarks as he gulps down another glass of water.

Rangoli session was something Pattu, always looked forward to. It was like an event for her to see her Papa paint and stroke design after design. The peacock was his favourite caricature. Pattu was not really an artist, but her Dad allowed her to fill in the colours, for which she often made a mess, but Papa always obliged. As he stroked the brushes to dish out design after design, Pattu kept pestering her Dad with the weirdest of questions that a 10 year old would have.

Papa when will go on a holiday? Papa were you a artist like MF Hussain? Papa how many prizes did you win when you were fourth standard? Papa why can I not draw like you? The list would be endless

Papa this year, Dadaji is in America so we will not have to hide the firecrackers. When are you getting the firecrackers? Bubli( a neighbour & friend) and her brothers sisters already started bursting crackers yesterday. When will you get firecrackers for me?

Beta, this year I have a better idea of firecrackers, how about bursting some special crackers? Let me finish this Rangoli and tell you about it. After finishing the Rangoli, he takes a seat on the big fat sofa, the sofa is over 30 years. It’s a standing trophy of the prosperity that the family has achieved over the years. It’s the same sofa, where Pattu`s Dadaji was interviewed by Marshall & sons and that job at that time had saved his six member family from stepping on the line of poverty.

Papa,what is this special cracker?

Pattu tell me one thing, when you burn those crackers the happiness that you get is so momentary, it just dies in a matter of few seconds. This Diwali, why don’t you bring happiness and joy in the lives of those children who can probably not buy any crackers and who will probably not even have enough sweets like you.
Although Pattu, was quite a brat being the only child and having been pampered to the brim, strangely she had a good heart and was quite a giving child.

The legacy of this special firecrackers began, as Pattu and her dad walked into the crowded Dadar market, bought some 200 steel glasses, chocolates, paper whistles and cellophane paper. Back home. Pattu was excited with the job of filling those steel glasses with sweets and tying cellophane paper on the glass

The next morning, the family zoomed on the Mumbai- Goa highway and almost 110km later their car halted at a school in a sleepy hamlet in Konkan. Pattu, had never really seen a village in her life, and was amazed to see mud houses, men & women scantily dressed & the starring eyes. The schoolmaster rang the bell as a sign of calling all the children in the school ground.

After a series of sounds of thumping feet’s, screams and laughter, children in all shapes and sizes gathered outside the school. Some of them barely had any clothes on them, but what they all had was a smile on their face, and the curiosity to find out what was going to happen here, they looked at the huge tall sahib, who had his fancy camera pouch tied around his waist, looking more like a gun. They had seen this sahib before but they looked in amazement at the girl with the hair cut of a boy, and the sethani wrapped in a bright yellow and red saree.

The schoolmaster announced, “Sagle ek line madhe ubhe rahava” ( Stand in one line). As the children left the school compound they flinged the cellophane paper in the air,blew the paper whistles and gulped the chocolates in to their hungry mouths. The atmosphere was full of noise and celebration and as Pattu looked at them, she felt so happy and satisfied; this special cracker had given her even more joy then any other firecracker she had ever burst. And after that day she never lit even a single firecracker, the only thing that she wanted to light was the special cracker. As the sparks it created were magical

Navratri Ki Yaddein

2006-10-02T01:22:00.000-07:00

It’s the long weekend and all the catching up on sleep during the day has made me like an Owl in the night, thus am compelled to do nothing but flip TV channels. As usual there is nothing interesting on televison but I happen to stop by on a channel playing a rerun of that nights Falguni Pathaks Dandiya ras. Although the Navratri this year has not managed to generate any interest in me, but as I listen to “Jode re Jodar”, & ‘Rangalo’ two of my favourite garba songs, I cant help but recollect all those wonderful memories of Navratri

Cousins coming to stayover,Going to Juhu beach, Juice center at Khar for a after Navratri snack, dressing up in the special Chania Cholis that Dadi would stich for me, almost winning the best dressed kid every year, listening to Papa sing at the Navratri gatherings, Participating in Papa`s relentless efforts of teaching me the steps year on year, Standing at my building balcony to watch all the action especially on days I couldn’t go, as I would have an exam the next morning, Sometimes visiting different Navratri venues. It was a different world altogehther

Last year I happened to visit the most popular Dandiya – Sankalp.

Flashback Dandiya 05
The true Dandiya queen- Falguni Pathak`s voice definately has the power to get one`s foot tapping. As i stood, there reflecting at the thousands of people, present in that ground, some watching just enjoying the music, some trying their first hand on the garba and some simply dancing to kill .I wondered what is it about,this festival that drives people from all communities to come and enjoy the thrills of Navratri ? Is it all about advertising and the hype? Is it about particpating in ones festival ? A youngsters excuse to go to a parents authorised disc or is it simply the festive spirit. I still remember, as a kid i always looked forward to Navratri, which happend in our buildings. There were no loudspeakers, but a simple dholwala and people would sing. I was never to good at the dandiya or garba, so i dont know whether it was the drive to learn it or was my fathers singing at these Navratris that drived me to not miss even a single day of the Navratri in the building. As time passed by the small celebrations in our buildings came to an end and it went on to the big disco dandiyas that happened, thus me taking a seat in front of my television screen and flipping channels to watch the diffrent dandiya`s. But what i really love about Navratri, is that it brings out the folk culture of Gujrat, Infact some day i would like to go and watch Navratri in Ahmedabad or Baroda. i have heard, the celebrations there have still kept the traditional elements intact

The Garba Rass for the year is over, but if you still want to give your hands a shot with Garba and Dandiya- Sharadpunam should be a day to watch out

Mumbai by night- Savouring the festivities of Ramzan

2006-10-01T01:30:00.000-07:00

“Oh meri zohare zafi tuje malum nahi” This retro Hindi number plays from one of the blaring Dandiya pandals near the Police gymkhana at Marine drive as we walk towards the Islam gymkhana from the calm waves of Marine drive to begin our night food trail.
The atmosphere was festive as girls and boys dressed up in their Navratri outfits passed by, in an open ground we saw a group of men dancing and singing something which seemed like Nepali, maybe it was the Gurkhas dancing to their cultural tunes. We meet our guide and host for the evening who is busy finishing a strawberry gola outside the Malai Golawala with his toli of friends. Since all of them were dressed in their traditional outfits the kurta and the customary topi for a moment, I am little baffled and wonder if it’s the same people I am supposed to be meeting, to add to it our guide for the night, who is also a very good friend of mine has a uncanny resemblance to Osama Bin and my wandering mind happens to think if he is really related to you know who.

The Malai golawala stall is crowded with people surrounded around him with requests for the strawberry, chocolate malai gola. Malai gola is basically gola dipped in milk instead of the sherbet gola which is commonly available everywhere. The background is full of Disco Dandiya music, cars passing by on the main road and of course the view of Mumbais skyline and the Queens necklace.

Finally after every one has had enough of the malai gola we move towards the Minara Masjid at Mohammed ali road. As we arrive at the road under the JJ flyover there seems to be total chaos there, jammed roads with cars, buses, people walking by, it is nice to see Mumbai in so much action even in the middle of the night. As we wait at the corner of Minara masjid lane I cannot control my excitement seeing the dozens of chappal stalls, although I don’t want to buy any chappals I cant stop myself from buying the cutest little kid chappals for my niece.

Amongst all that crowd, I happen to notice the “Khilona ka pheriwala” the kind of hawker who is usually seen outside marriage halls. Suddenly I go back to those days when I would nag my parents to buy me something from that stall, when I take a close look at the stall, I wonder how toys have changed from times, the simple bow and arrows, puppets, tea sets are replaced by Barbie mobile phones, Ipod, play grids.

We walk in the tiny by lane of Minara masjid.The atmosphere is so charged, with not even a inch of place to move. The tiny bylane is full of food shops, men busy cutting and stirring food in huge vessels, bikes trying to find their way out. Our guide tells us that the way to begin the meal is to have zabban soup.From this tiny bylane we cut across to another tiny bylane again full of food shops and tables layed out for guests to sit. We are sitting at Bade Miya.it’s the only place you get to eat zabban soup.(goat tongue). Its more of a starters kind of place. Bheja fry, kaleja fry all that is available here. I like the way one of the waiters tell the cook ( Yeh Bhai ka bheja de do). I am a vegetarian so obviously I can’t eat anything here, so I want to drink some chai. The waiter screams out to the owner of Café Noorani just opposite where chai is being made in a gallon. I scream back to the owner giving him my instructions on the tea. Next to Café Noorani is a barber shop. The barber seems to be doing brisk business even at this hour. My chai arrives in a nice thick glass cup, and is amazing.

As we move towards the dinner place(Janta Hotel) I cant help but stop at the sweet shops to see the action. The smell of pure ghee, the malpuas being dipped in a sea of ghee and the speed with, which the workers wrap them putting a spray of malai on it, is simply amazing.

It is very hot outside, thus its definitely a relief to go to the AC section of Janta Hotel, although there is place only for 4 ppl, while we are 8. The waiter who I later learn to call chcha and not chacha tell us the other table will clear in a few minutes. to which the my group mates joke over the guests sitting on that table “ Yeh to Aadhi jaan hai, kuch kha nahi payenge” on the context that they would finish soon.

Finally we get our table and order the specialty which is bater, tittar, chicken 65. I ask chaccha what veg stuff I could get. He says “ Aapa veg main to sirf roti or dal milegi,woh bhi bajoo se mangani padegi”. I like being call Aapa, when I enquire what it means, I find out it means, ‘Sister’ and then I think of Khala , with the obvious connection about a character from recently read book, Sacred Games where the Khala is Sulemain Asa right hand, taking care of his operations in Mumbai

As we sit across the table, my groupmates joke about each other. One of them who is really hungry and supposedly a very hot tempered guy is being provoked by all types of comments, another one who is a married and is going for Omra in a couple of days(which means going to Haj, during the non Haj season) seems to be in a hurry, as he has forgotten his home keys and this reason is being used as a weapon to tease him about the whippings he will get from his wife for coming late. One of the other group mate tells us about staying in Karachi for three weeks to attend a wedding, and he tells how Shia`s hide their identity as they are often killed or harassed by the Sunnis in that land. They also tell me that the Ramzan feast is not as grand in Karachi as it is in Mumbai. As the food arrives there are more rounds of laughter with one or the other groupmate being the victim of some joke. Finally when all finish, the guys tell chccha to get the Sadma(shock), they tell me its just a fun way of asking for the bill, to which one of the groupmate remarks “ its good we don’t say zakht to the tip we leave behind.”

Its almost 2:00a.m now, but the rush of people coming in and out of this tiny bylane hasn’t reduced much. We park ourselves at the sweet stalls, there is so much to choose, phirni, kesar and plain, gulab jamun, masala milk, jalebi, and ofcourse the all time favourite malpua. When we get out of the lane I ask my guide if there is a night bazzar, he tells me that further down there is the Bori Mohala, and Madanpura. Madanpura I have heard this name before and I want to go and see it. After a round of Khudha hafiz, the rest of the people retire for the day, we give our condolences to the wife beating victim and then the four of us walk towards Madanpura. I love walking on this road, under the flyover.

I look at all those people who are sleeping so peacefully, on the streets, devoid of their daily worries of survival, or cockroach or rat attacks. The earth is their bed and sky is their shelter. I wonder what happens to these people during the rains.

As we walk further I see the Noor Mohammed hotel which is famous for its Nali- Nihari a sort of delicacy next to the very famous Shalimar hotel. On the side we see groups of men chatting, playing games of carom. As we walk through the lanes of Madanpura, in another tiny bylane I watch a man stirring something in a huge pot, I go and ask him what he is cooking, He tells me he is making kheema and this is the preparation for Sehri( Sehri is the food they eat in the morning). He tells me they buy 600 kg of meat every day during this season.

In pockets we pass through garment shops, where the tailors are busy at work cutting and stitching, burkhas, topis etc. I notice some really old building yazdar mansion, ali Mahals of the world. We cross through the by lanes of Nagpada and Bhendi bazzar. These places were supposed to be the most dangerous, but there is nothing really dangerous about this road. Its calm and silent with people sitting and chatting at the nukkad, or restaurant workers getting ready for the next meal, or hoards of hawkers turning their carts into their beds sleeping on it. I would have just loved to have walk endlessly through these roads if it wasn’t for my old friends who just couldn’t walk any more.

I completely enjoyed seeing a totally different side of Mumbai. Mumbai can always surprise you with something new all the time

Sacred Games by Vikram Chandra

2006-09-19T19:50:00.000-07:00

It all began one Saturday afternoon, when I sat starring outside my window, looking aimlessly at the green patch in front of my house and sulking about something. The phone rang.It was Nitin aka Godfather. He had called to tell me, that he has managed to get hold of a signed copy of Vikram Chandra`s much talked about book Sacred Games.I don’t know whether I was ignorant or indifferent,but I hadn’t really heard about the book or what it was actually about. But when I was told that its related to Mumbai and crime scene, for some strange I developed an instant urge to read that book, inspite of being warned of it being a 900 page hardcover(7kg in weight).

Sacred Games - A must read

This book is a crime thriller, not a dhishom -dhishom kind of thriller but more of a detective book. The main plot of the story is investigating the self-murder of a big crime lord of Mumbai aka Ganesh Gaitonde by Sartaj Singh an senior sub inspector. But amidst this main story are weaved even more interesting tales. It’s the story of the thousands of youngsters who float into city to make their Bollywood dreams, the story of their survival, the human side of gangsters and their team mates, their triumphs, their failures, betrayals, the story of partition affected families, a story of the Bangladeshi immigrants in Mumbai, to the story of infidelity in marriage. It’s a story of faith, belief and betrayal.

I love the way Chandra has weaved the characters in the story, with every character having an interesting tale to share and it is very real.

The novel is so gripping& entertaining, that you will not want to keep it aside until you finish reading it,no wonder over the last 3 weeks, even the crowded train compartments, full of chatty and loud women,or the tiresome bus journeys or the jerky Rickshaw ride has deterred me from closing my book (not to be forget the instances where I have been mocked by friends and collegeous for carrying such a huge book around)

That’s what I love about books; good books have the ability to help you dissolve your worries and troubles, getting you involved in the lives of its characters. Books are your best friends, and great company, never to betray you.

Very well written & gripping.An excellent book. I have enjoyed every minute of reading this brilliant book.Great job Vikram!

Beyond Classrooms! Lessons of Life

2006-09-05T01:30:00.000-07:00

Teacher’s day brings back memories of celebrations at school, where we practiced for skits or song recitations days before the d-day, competed with each other to give the best gift to our favorite teachers, for some it was a chance to erase that bad picture they had painted for themselves, while for others just, an opportunity to simply acknowledge the presence of those who had really made a difference in their lives

Post my classroom days, every Teachers day, I like to reflect and think about all those non- classroom teachers who I have met throughout my life. These people have never thought of themselves as my teachers but they have shared with me some important learning’s, experience, knowledge which has helped me graduate year on year with flying colors, and that is what makes them my special teachers.

But I would like to tell you about the Biggest Teacher in my life, who saw me the second I entered this world.

He always had a smile on his face, energy in his eyes. He had an ability to mesmerize people with his talks. He could talk to you about anything under the sun, from the way a certain teacher troubled him, to how he and his school gang(golden gang) played pranks on students, to anecdotes about his interesting friends ranging from the 80 year old Dadima in the building, to the middle aged women of the navrati group, to the fathers of some of his friends, to those countless travelogues of trips that were planned on a spur of a moment to gather handicrafts, to tales about his young entrepreneur ventures, stories of his weird clientele, to his escapade from foreign countries, to his survival trip adventures, to theories on best crop yield, land , plantation, to the techniques on making some of the best dishes, to Indian Mythology and Hindu philosophy, to Psychology the list can go on.

What was unique about my teacher is that you would always take back something new at the end of a conversation with him. His style of teaching was not advisory, but mostly sharing oriented. I think he didn’t want to be a preacher, but someone who wanted to share what he had learnt.

On this day, let me share with you some important lessons that I learned from him

Never be attached to anybody or anything, because if your attached to something, you will have expectations from it, and if you are bound by it, it’s very difficult and hard to let go if it, if it’s gone tomorrow. Don’t be indifferent to what you are attached to, but develop the ability to live without it if it’s gone tomorrow.

Fight your own battle. This is something I have grown up with, my teacher never came in the middle to be a mediator to solve my quarrels, he wanted me to fight my own battles. He often told me. “Life is your own battle, do not expect others (including your parents & children) to come and support you, because they have their battle to fight, if you expect them to come and they don’t turn up you will be hurt.”

Give. A giver is what my teacher was. I often argued with my teacher, that we shouldn’t give to people who didn’t deserve, or do not acknowledge what we do for them. But I liked what he said, “God doesn’t grant everyone with the ability to give, you’re the chosen one, so give and there will never be less”

Trust. My teacher often said, “Don’t trust anybody in this world, not even your children or parents.” I had thought that maybe he was being very cynical, but having seen the outside world, I somehow am forced to believe it is true

Smile- The world is full of sorrow, share your joys not your sorrows. He had an uncanny ability of hiding all his sorrows under his smile and those cheerful talks.

I wonder how big this list would have been, if all had not ended on 29 December 2001, the day my biggest teacher closed his books from the world. But as they say a Great Teacher always lives in the knowledge and learning’s that he shares, just like Papa.

Independence Road-adventure

2006-08-17T19:48:00.000-07:00

Ticket to Ride

Day 1 - August 11, 2006

I zoomed into Bombay central station, a little before the meeting time. As I got of the cab apart from the normal Coolie`s pestering me to carry the luggage, two train-ticket touts came enquiring if I needed to buy the Rajdhani train tickets. I ignored the first guy, but when a second tout approached me , I couldn’t help asking how much it would cost, he replied just 200 rs extra. It would be interesting to know what kind of money these guys make in this business

At the station, the atmosphere is charged with steaming engines of the trains awaiting departure, people waiting for their travel companions. Hands packing and unpacking baggages, people catching a few winks before the train. & ofcourse the anticipation and excitement in the eyes of those viewing the train arriving at the station .As I await the arrival of my two friends & also my travel mates for the journey at Desi Deli I decide to look around. On one side is the old IRTC canteen serving the normal snacks and adjoining it is the swanky MC Donald’s & Desi Deli air-conditioned eatery. The arches and the architecture at the station remind me of the Grand Central station in New York. As we walk towards our train the Rajdhani,I remember the last ride I had taken on the train almost 10 years ago with Papa & Ma where we had just managed to board the train just a minute before its departure

We find our seats on the train, and are greeted by newspapers. One of my travel mates who has probably never traveled in a long distance train is amazed and reaches out for his wallet to pay for the newspaper & water just to find out that it is just a part of the services offered by the Rajdhani. Three of us park ourselves on or side window berth. It’s a nice view outside as we pass through the green fields, the rivers the lakes. As one of our travel mates rightly describes it, “ Its like viewing nature through a plasma screen” There aren’t any interesting people sitting around us, except two small kids in the next cubicle who keep scaring us by howling like dogs.

I walk around to the hot air buffet car, where some workers are peeling a sack full of potatos, one guy is cooking chicken in a pan, and another is frying the cutlets. Apparently they are cooking for the first class passengers. They also prepare the breakfast for the entire train. This is just a open kitchen no food is served here. I move ahead and check out the first class compartment which seemed very neat with each cubicle having private doors. The first class compartment also has a bathing room equipped with hot water.

Prank stories, annecdotes, weird experiences spiced with snacks and a scrumptious dinner later we decide to retire for the day. As I begin reading my book, I cant help remembering all the characters i had met on my last train ride couple of months ago. They had kept me entertained with their tales & queries keeping me distantly away from my book reading.

Day 2
Ride to Rishikesh

The day begins on an exciting note. Its 4:30a.m I wake up at Kota station, I struggle to open the door of the train as curious onlookers stare at me from outside the door. Finally one of the policemen standing outside, opens the door for me and I request the chai wala to make me chai without sugar and he sweetly obliges. Back in the train, I try to wake up my oldie travel mates but all my efforts are gone for a toss as they continue to sleep. Later I try to catch a wink, as I don’t want to miss the morning, which is beautiful. At 6am I am finally up and happily glaring out of my plasma screen window. Its beautiful, the clouds have just come out, the green fields with workers toiling away in the field, old village houses, women filling water, people resting on their khatiyas.

Finally we reach Delhi station and get out from Paharghanj section of the station and get into the swanky CRV that we have borrowed from Bhuj,who had just left the city a couple of hours back to spend her weekend in Rajashtan. Mukesh our driver is in full form with his swanky sunglasses. A lady Rickshaw driver passes by the station making us all excited.

As the three of us debate on whether he looks like Dubeyji from Monsoon Wedding or Om Puri, Mukesh takes on the role of the perfect Delhi guide and drives us around Akshardham. Akshardham is an impressive temple. At about 12 noon we halt at a nice Coffe Day and coax the outlet to allow us to eat the Sabudana Khicdi that Mom has made for us. At that time, sabudana khicdi seems like heaven for us, the fasting souls. As are Michael Schumacher, Mukesh takes on the wheel, we feel like we are on a jet passing through the sugarcane fields, the dhabas, the tractors, the rivers, the overcrowded rickshaws & buses with people hanging outside.

After crossing three states, Delhi, Uttarpradesh & Utranchal we finally arrive at Rishikesh at 3:30 a.m. After various discussions and debates we finally find a cozy place called Ishan Guest house to stay at Lakshman Jhula with the most outstanding view of Ganges. Later we check out the German bakery adjoining the hotel frequented by Firangs. We relish our chais & milks and begin our long walk to the Aarti in the evening. It an interesting walk through the Jhula, shops and the temples.

The Aarti is one of the most divine experiences, which every visitor to Rishikesh must definitely have. We sit on the banks of the Ghat, dipping our feet in the cold water of the river. Its yet sunny & the kirtaniyas are just setting up. On one side are the mountains, in the middle is the Lakshman Jhula( Jhula is a kind of bridge on top of the river and supported only at the edges, it sort of looks like the Howrah bridge).

The cool breeze, the setting sun, the scenic view of the Ganges, you just cant help but close your eyes to believe your actually here. Peace is all you can breathe in. But not for too long, as the bhajans, begin the crowd also starts pouring in . Some of them talking so loudly that you could easily get distracted . We do the aarti and then let the leaf bowl full of flowers and diya float into the water. The entire experience can leave you with so much energy. Some dignitaries have also come for the aarti, from the people we know its Murli Deora, the Petroleum minister, we later learn he was in town to attend some ONGC conference. We are in the mood to meditate so we walk further down the ghat, just to find a tranquil spot to mediate. Finally we do meditate on top of the well or waterboard. It is rejuvenating.

After that peaceful experience, we look forward to dinner at Chotiwala. Chotiwala is a simple eatery serving a mix of Indian & continental food. We get a spot at the terrace and gulp down the scrumptious thali full of vegetables and rotis and some good sweets. We all have mixed reactions on the food, I personally thought they put too much of oil in the food thus killing the actual flavor, while my other two travel mates liked the food.

Some arguments later we take a rickshaw ride back to the hotel.Well our tiredness does not deter us from further doses of laughter, music and free cyber cafe sessions on one of our travel mate’s computer, post which we retire for the day

I hope to write about my complete journey soon & upload some cool pics if my travel mates send them to me. Watch out this space for more

High Chair

2006-07-23T09:25:00.000-07:00

It is a beautiful Sunday morning in Goa.It is so peaceful and calm. As I laze through breakfast savoring the scenic view of the endless sea at this fancy restaurant, I suddenly happen to glance at a very neatly crafted high chair across my table. As I look at it, lot of thoughts came to mind

I am reminded about the numerous instances where my friends, cousins, aunts etc have requested for a high chair for their little ones. when we had dined at restaurants. I think about the times I have laughed at the young parents trying to keep the energetic kid seated on the chair, or the times they have struggled to feed the little one.Times when I have really felt sorry for these young parents who had to keep up with the tantrums of the little one, just taking away the pleasure of having even one peaceful meal

As I looked at it again I wondered when I would need to ask for a high chair. Over the past couple of years I have developed a sudden fondness for children. It’s fascinating to know that just a small cell has the ability to grow into something so beautiful, so innocent, and so joyful. I wonder how my parents feel when they see me. They have probably seen me in a shape of a little cell, and today, I am this overgrown infant.

Motherhood must be such a divine experience. The ability to give birth to a living creature just fascinates me. I have loved to hear the fascinating tales of young parents. Stories of not being able to sleep, holidays turning into disasters and the un- explanatory satisfying stories of the first walk, the first word, the first day in school etc.

So as I sit here on this lovely Sunday morning, free from of any worries, any responsibilities, equipped with the freedom to do what I want, I wonder if I really want to be the one asking for a high chair. But I guess life is about having a plethora of experiences, and the film that the almighty has scripted for us definitely has Time for everything. ( just like that famous song from Forest Gump. There is time to laugh. There is time to cry..). So when the time comes I am sure I will have the opportunity to pick up a high chair.

Traumatic Tuesday

2006-07-11T23:45:00.000-07:00

As I left office this evening never had I imagined that I was about to embark on a traumatic journey home. As I got off the cab at Elphistone station, someone just shouted that there was a bomb blast at Mahim. As I reached the platform, I saw hoards of people rushing out of the station, as I tried to find out what was happening, there was an announcement on the system, that all trains until Bhayandar were dismissed. Having been so used to listening to all this incidents on a daily basis now, I never really bothered to much, but when I learnt that the last blast happened at Bandra station, I just prayed that Ma, was not affected by it, I frantically tried calling her. Ma had just called me, a couple of minutes earlier and told me she was at Bandra, so in all possibility she was going to be at the station and boarding the same first class compartment in which the blasts occurred

As I waited to get a cab towards Bandra, I just managed to get through Ma`s phone and she told me she was alright and heading home in the rickshaw. If it was not for God’s blessings and everybody’s good wishes, I don’t know what state she would have been. Later when I reached home, I learnt that she had seen the blast in front of her eyes outside the station. The dead bodies being wrapped and rushed outside, bleeding passengers being rushed into ambulances, the scare in the peoples eyes, the howling of the workers to make way for the patients.

After walking a little bit where I saw some injured bodies being taken in an ambulance, myself and two other women managed to get a cab. Later I learnt that the cabbie was not aware of the blasts so he took the ride. The journey back home from Elphistone took me exactly four & half-hours and was truly traumatic.
Ambulances and Police vehicle alarm sounds, roads jammed with traffic, sea of people walking on both sides of roads, over crowded buses, rickshaws, taxis, stranded people waiting for some kind of transport to get home, and to add to it the sudden heavy downpour in some areas that even made visibility impossible. As I tried calling and informing colleagues, relatives and friends at work amidst the jammed network, loads of Sms and phone calls from across the country and the world started pouring in, just to find out if we were all ok. This was probably the only comforting factor; it felt nice to know that there were so many people in this world who cared to find out, whether you were dead or alive

As I dropped the other two women at their destination near Parle station, I was more than willing to give a lift to anyone on my route home, but just as I reached Vile Parle Station, some kind of gunda volunteers, maybe some party workers along with the policemen were just forcing people into cabs or cars to get them home. There act was not bad, but I am not sure if forcing or using harsh language with the cabbies and rickshawalas to get stranded passengers on route home was a right way of doing this social service

So now, I had seven people sitting in cab. Traffic post Andheri was crazy. However, the Bombay spirit was truly visible, volunteers coming and passing bottles of water, people climbing on the hood of Volvo buses & outstation buses to get home, people getting into trucks and hanging out of BEST buses. However, all this while what really bothered me was the state of families of those hundreds of people who would have died in these serial blasts. How would their families find them? Who knows out of those who have died, some would have been the sole bread earners for the family. Some would have just started their families, what will happen to those families?

A Death is such a painful thing, especially when its least expected.

Football fling

2006-07-09T01:21:00.000-07:00

I have never been a sports enthusiast, except watching a little bit of cricket. So when the FIFA World cup 2006 started, I looked at it with ridicule and thought it was crazy for people to stay awake and watch a game in which not even our country was playing. I had never really watched football, did not even know the rules of the game and did not even want to know. However, it all changed, my football fling could be no different than the typical Bollywood movie plot of girl meets boy, hates him, then suddenly something happens and both fall in love.

My affair with football actually began exactly one month ago. It was a relaxed Sunday evening, I was recovering from a bad flu and being tired of sitting at home just wanted to get out. Having convinced a townie friend of mine to come to suburbs, we chatted over chai and muffins at my favorite cafe- BBC. She started telling me about football and how she had been following it, although I had no real interest in the game, I wanted to know a little bit about it, coz I was running some contest on the football theme and information about the game, would just help me create some effective communication. Suddenly I was a little interested in the game, and as another football enthusiast friend joined us, it was decided to go and watch the match at some place. As the match began, it was a little embarrassing for my friends as they explained to me the rules of game using the salt and pepper bottles on the table. As that’s where it all began.

As some one who likes to learn about new things, I thought this would be something interesting to follow, although I did not watch all the matches, I continued to keep watching them on and off and sometimes it was boring, but sometimes it was fun. As we came closer to the end, the semifinals, I started looking forward to the matches and developed a sort of liking for it

Right now as I watch the finals between Italy and France, I do hope Italy wins and feel happy to have learned about a new game.I think I am going to continue my fling with football by following it with the English League coming up in August.

A trip to Heaven and back

2006-06-24T09:10:00.000-07:00

Beep... Beep… 3:45a.m my alarm rang. Getting up at that hour was definitely not my idea of beginning the weekend, but after my telecon, the previous night with the attendant at ST bus depot in Borivali, I knew that if I wanted to take the first bus at five I had to get up early.The telecon with the bus depot attendant and a conversation earlier in the day with a colleague who told me about talking to a postmaster over the phone at the postoffice to get her mail has left me wondering if the service levels of our government bodies had climbed up the ladder or was it just an impact of tele-communications.

I walk out of the building, with a kind of feeling I have had when I have gone to write an exam, where I am all prepared, and I know exactly the kinds of answers I won’t be able to solve. I sort of know what is expected of this journey, a boring long bus ride, meeting my father’s men, who will have nothing but sob stories about current scenario and some praise stories on Dad. Meeting the clueless Sarpanch who will ask me to pay the house tax and apologize for not sending the receipt.

As I ride to the bustop, the roads are empty and dirty with the collected rainwater, sky is pitch dark, and it is drizzling.It is not a very encouraging atmosphere to start a journey especially in the ST bus.The bus arrives in time and it is not very crowded,I get a window seat.As the bus moves towards Dadar,more and more people get in. A slightly elderly lady, dressed in a Mahrashtrian navari sits next to me. She seems to be going to her village.She keeps on fidgeting with her plastic bag full of clothes murmuring something to herself, finally it lands up on the shelf.Surprisingly the ST bus is quite comfortable.

As the sun rises and we hit Panvel,its beautiful outside.I am just fascinated watching the green mountains,the fields, the sky, the lakes under the bridges that I pass, cows bathing in the lakes, the birds chirping. Suddenly Mother Nature had boasted my mood, I am energized and all my depressing and negative thoughts about the trip are being thrown out of the window as we continue to move. To make the trip even more enjoyable I switch on the radio to listen to some music. Guess which song comes ‘ Chala jata hu, from Swades’ now the mood is totally set in, I too feel like Sharukh Khan returning to his village. Nostalgia fills in as I pass through Karnala, amantran at Wadgad Nakka, Shirdon and other places where we would always halt on our way to Nilaj.

Finally, I arrive at Kolad, its about 10 km from Nilaj, the place where the estate is. My father’s work associate lives at Kolad, next to the bus depot. He usually guides me and updates me about what happening so a visit to his house is a must. He lives in a typical Maharashtrian upper-class house. He owns some rice mills, has some construction material business, owns some land, and is well networked with the tehsil and other officials. His house is a typical village bungalow in which rooms are constructed from time to time based on need without any design or architectural element to it.

I wait for the man to come in the gloomy drawing room. He enters and tells me “ You came back to India”.I had visited the place almost a year back before I went to the US.There is nothing wrong in his question but his tone is un- welcoming, I want to get up and tell him, why you thought I would go away and you could just encroach my land.

I decide to get to the point and enquire about what has been happening. He casually remarks that there have been some parties who have been enquiring about buying the place but nothing has worked out so far .This is nothing new, I have heard this on every single trip of mine. There seems to be some development now. Apparently, they are building a dam near the estate; this is good news so the water problem at the estate can be solved by it. He gives me his new telephone no and tells me to inform him 2 days in advance before I come next time so that he can fix a meeting with tatye at the Tehsil to find out exactly about my property records. Unfortunately, it is a second Saturday so government offices are shut so cant visit them today.

Outside his house, I take a ride to the estate in this big rickshaw, which runs in the villages, with a seating for about eight passengers but usually the double sit. For 80 bucks, I get a ride to the estate all by myself. Its not a bad deal at all, since its 10km anyways. I feel like a king in that rickshaw. I start talking to the rickshaw guy and since I am hungry I ask him to stop at Mai Bhavani- a restaurant i have been visiting since I was a kid.

Mai Bhavani is a classy Maharashtrian Dhabba run by an old couple. It also has a temple with it. The Mai Bhavani interiors are changed it just seems like the Indian version of the Crocker Barrels and the country restaurants I have visited and liked in the US. The tables are made of bamboo sticks and painted green in colour and so are the chairs. The dinning area is covered with a bamboo round roof. There are loads of baskets filled with oil, kokam and other ayurvedic stuff on display for sale. On the side, there are three big jars of pickle. Since there is no one in the dinning hall I go in the kitchen a girl comes out I enquire for breakfast.

I invite the rickshaw driver to join me, who is a little shy and insists on not having anything as he has already finished breakfast at home, however settles for some chai. I am treated to some authentic Maharashtrian poha and kothmirvadi with lasun chatni and steaming hot chai. Over chai I chat with the rickshaw driver asking him about the train timings, to working hours of government offices on Saturday to the political champion Sunil A of Rashtravadi party who rules the region and how Shiv sena has lost its power here. When I tell him, I am going to the estate above Nilaj, he tells me that he has been there years ago to see the flower plantation and how amazed he was to see those flowers transported in an AC car.

I go inside to pay my bill. An old woman who seems to be the owner and chef comes out, I thank her for a good breakfast and tell her I like the way they have redone the place recollecting my earlier visits as a kid. When she learns, that I am Gautam Shah’s daughter, she is stunned and remembers him and tell me in chast Marathi, how papa called him mother, always came here for meals and at times even requested her for a head massage with their special oil.

The Rickshaw guy is ready to take me to the estate but I ask him to drop me at the village, as I want to go to the office. The Rickshaw guy is high-tech with a mobile phone. He gives me his mobile no and tells me I can call him anytime incase I need a drop.

I walk into a village, I look at the school. Years ago, I remember Papa bringing me to the school to distribute gifts to the village kids. It was an annual Diwali ritual. The village is definitely more developed now, less houses with mud more which concrete and some houses with two storeys. As I walk to the Panchayat office, a lady comes to enquire who I am, I tell her I need to meet the Panch and when I tell her I am Gautam shah`s daughter she suddenly shouts calling the Gram siphai saying Gautam sheth`s daughter has come.

Suddenly the people in the surrounding houses come outside, starring at me. Thankfully the Gram Sipahi comes soon and I get into office. He tells me the Panch is not in today and I ask him to show me my house records and get a little annoyed at him for not having changed it to my mothers name yet. He remembers everything about my case. He immediately removes the death certificate I had given him and requests me to write a letter once again. For some strange reason he thinks I am married and asks me “Tumche Mr ale nahi” He urges me to give the change in name letter again and thus dictates to me in Marathi, I haven’t written Marathi in ages, I feel no different from the hundreds of other villagers he must be dictating letters to. I tell him I am coming back next Saturday, he needs to ensure that the name is changed in records and I am given the new receipt.

I walk through the village with people coming out giving me very curious glances. I am not really in a mood to talk to anyone, but I have to since I cant figure out the way. I ask an old lady, she immediately calls for a man to assist me to the plot. In the time that I am waiting for the man to arrive, she enquires how my mother is, and remembers seeing me as a kid. More bodies and eyes stare at me. I realize the power of my father’s name. My escort, a middle aged man in shorts arrives, and takes me to the estate, showing me the new dam that is being built and the straight road that Papa had built upto the estate. As I walk up, I am in heaven. Its amazingly green, On one side there just mountains on the other 3 sides small ponds. It is heaven. I thank the guy for showing me the place and tell him I will sit here for a while so he can leave.

When I look at the house papa has built, a place where he had wanted to live once I had finished graduation it was devastating. The house was like khandar, it had not been in any great shape earlier too, but it had got worst now. The windows and doors had also dissapeared. I wondered why Papa had chosen this plot to build the house one look around and I got the answer. You couldn’t ask for a better view, just beautiful green mountains on all sides and small pond on one side.

The house reminded me of the state of some forts and palaces today, which were flourishing kingdoms at one point of time. This was Papa’s little kingdom, whenever I came with him it was always buzzing with people, even when the house was not built there was a bamboo canopy where we would sit. It was right here, many years ago that the entire village had a festive feast, it was right here that the adivasi workers at the estate showed Papa their gratitude by putting up a special dance performance for us. It was here in the open under the tree that the papa had cooked the most amazing khicdhi on a makeshift brick stove. It was here that 100 kids from my school had come for a nature trail and papa had fondly cooked for them. It was right under this tree, that we had got papas special friend Bochakhaju- the Monkey drunk with a little beer and watched his acrobatics. It was right here that papa had cooked and entertained his countless guests. Today there was not a single soul here, it was silent and beautiful, and all these things were history now.

On various instances I had wondered why on the earth did Papa have to buy land here. As I walked through the estate I got the answer. Probably for the first time, after Papa passed away I realized that I had inherited an asset and not a liability .Its amazing how age and experience can change the way you look at things. I think in my initial visits, I was more occupied thinking about land and looking after it with its complexities as a problem, thus totally ignoring the actual problem and addressing it with solutions and continuing to keep in on the backburner.

On my way back I trekked down the pukka road across the three villages to reach the highway and waved out to one of the big rickshaws on the road to go to Kolad. This was interesting ride with twelve adults and 4 children squeezing in the 8 seater rickshaw. I hoped to see a Volvo coming from Mahableshwar or Goa so that I could make my trip back in the ac. So for 110 ruppes I got a AC ride home in the Volvo. In a couple of hours I was back to hustle bustle and traffic of Mumbai after my short rendezvous with Heaven giving me loads of happiness

An inspiring conversation with a friend, a focused approach, a little bit of age and experience, earned me a trip to Heaven this Saturday.

Even-out evenings in Bombay

2006-06-19T22:48:00.000-07:00

On Sunday evening as I dived into dinner at new eatery in town, talking about places to visit closer to work and otherwise my friend remarked “There is nothing much to do in the evenings in Bombay”. On Monday night when I left work, that statement suddenly came back to me. Pondering over the statement through out my train ride amidst finishing my book I thought about a couple of things that one could do in Mumbai on weeknights post work. Have listed them down would be great to add to the list so please contribute

Things where you don’t need to spend the mula
Mumbai has many bays
You can take a walk down
worli sea face .
Chowpatty beach
Nariman Point skyline
Dadar beach
Gateway of India
Port Garden- Ballard Pier
TIFR garden- Although u need some connection to get in there
Walk through the by lanes of Fort

Bookstores

This could be another interesting place to catch up on all the magazines & books..Most bookstores are open till 9. My recommendations are
Crossword at Kemps Corner- This is a real treat its probably the biggest book store in Mumbai. You can also unwind at the Moshes Café . Crosswords at Inorbit, Shivaji Park, Bandra are good hangouts to
Oxford book store- Oxford doesn’t have a wide choice of books but the chai and muffin at the cha bar are defi worth a visit

Coffee shops

Coffee culture is definitely in. There is nothing like unwinding with a nice book at any of the coffee shops. But some coffee bars become interesting because of kind of people you get to see there in turn the live entertainment that you get to watch
Barista – I have always preferred the Barista to the Coffee Day. Barista next to Regal is interesting as u can end up meeting a lot of backpackers, travelers and if you get the window seat it can be full entertainment watching the street kids talking to the firangs. Barista at Bandstand is nice with the view of the sea. The Shivaji Park Barista is also very relaxing
Of course the Bombay Baking company at the Marriot gets my vote. They serve some very good chai, coffee and muffins and you can pick up books and magazines to catch up on your reading. They close at 10 pm, but they are open 24 hours on Monday, when the coffee shop is closed
Prithvi café is also an interesting place to hangout; you just sit under a tree sipping irish coffee.
Café which has a similar ambience like Prithvi, tucked away inside Famous studio. Although they have some art displays there, the café is handled by Cafe Coffee Day so no great surprises on food and coffee

Music

Music is any form is usually entertaining. Karoake has become very popular. Some of the places where you defi get to watch some good Karoke action
Not Just Jazz By the Bay – They have a band playing or Karoke almost every day post 10
Starters & More & Soul Fry- There are others joinng in too like Zenzi, Bohemia etc
Mondegar and Leopold are other great hangouts. Mondegar has a juke box whereas at Leopold there is music only upstairs with a DJ playing some hits.

Movie screenings/ Plays / exhibitions

If you are some one who likes to watch offbeat cinemas then you should watch out for the movie screenings by British Council, Alliance France, National Film Divison, worli etc. Most of these screenings are free. .You can find them listed in Time-Out. It’s a good magazine to subscribe too. Most plays are screened on weekends but Prithvi theatre and NCPA sometimes do have screenings on weekdays. Also throughout the year there a tons of exhibitions of various kinds that you can go and check out

Hobby classes/ volunteer work/ Vocational course

Another interesting thing to do is take up a class on something novel. Something like
Kickboxing
Karate/Judo
Yoga
Salsa Class
Basic chopping and cooking class
Volunteer to teach at a night school ( I have been trying to find an NGO, where I can do this, but no luck so far, if any of you know anything like this please let me know)
Volunteer a couple of hours at an old age home (There is nothing like bringing happiness for a few minutes in someone’s life)
An Evening course to sharpen your skills, Velingar, NMIMS a lot of institutes offer a variety of courses

Case History- DADAJI

2006-06-13T04:41:00.000-07:00

One Sunday evening, I accompanied Dadaji to the newly opened Positive Health Clinic, a homeopathic treatment center in my locality. What’s interesting about going to a homeopathic clinic is that, they prescribe you medicines according to the way you behave, your likes dislikes etc, thus as Dadaji gave his so called case history to the doctor, glimpses of his life just came in front of me and I decided to pen them down

Dadaji, Dada, Granpa these are probably the only words by which I refer my Dadaji. Dadaji is 83 years old but he still is one of those fortunate men who can ignite the hearts of women in any age group not only by his appearance but also his witty talks. This has been a constant phenomenon in his life, even before I was born.

It all probably began in the 20`s when Dadaji a, fair handsome young man hailing from Uttar Pradesh landed in Mumbai. He had stayed at various places from Tehri, to Agra to Mathura to complete his education, finally landing in Mumbai to make his dreams, or to just get out of the big family in Haldwani, Nainital. Granpa a son of a very well-known lawyer Brijbhushan Das, never really went to school. Teachers would come home to teach him.

W hen he arrived to Mumbai and slept outside in a chawl of his uncle’s house, women both young girls, ladies always had an eye on him and gossip letters were churned out to his mother stating that all the girls are behind him so its better to get him married. Finally an alliance was sought out and my grandmother (Ashru) a daughter of one of wealthiest gold merchants of Jhaver bazzar was chosen as a match. The wedding was supposedly very elaborate although it was held in the porch of the building, but the barattis were given stay at the Sea Green hotel which was a big thing in those days.

Dadaji has always had a very western approach or thinking in his life. He doesn’t believe in God, never agreed of old customs and most of all he liked to treat girls and boys equally (that’s probably the reason why his daughter and granddaughters are what they are today). He worked with companies like Marshal & Sons to APE Bellis, traveled the world on work from the time when such voyages could be undertaken only by ships. Dadaji is a total fitness freak, totally into making health food, walking, although his knees don’t allow him to walk to much now.

As a child I still remember when Dadaji would come to drop me to school or even when he would be a guest at any of social gatherings in college, work or outside I have been bombarded with compliments like, “Your Dadaji is so cute.. Your Dadaji is very handsome and smart”. To get compliments at the age of 80 plus is definitely something

Dadaji and me share a very special bond, from the time I could remember. When I was probably 3 years old and was living in Haldwani with parents, it was he who on one of his trips, had insisted my father on sending me to Mumbai for a better education, assuring him that he and Dadi would look after me till, papa could wind of and come to Mumbai.

I still remember walking with Dadaji every evening to the Taj cake shop; to buy his brown bread and then visiting the general store to buy me a packet of chocolate. Taking me to land of Mickey mouse(USA). Driving me to school, taking me on the poney ride at Bandstand, or to the train garden. Oh how could I forget the museum of my childhood photographs and reams of projector films that Dadaji had created which will help me preserve those wonderful memories through time.

Even today, by the grace of god this bond still exists. Interestingly, Dadaji`s birthday falls on 25 Dec, and he truly is my real life Santa Clause.I do hope that Dadaji, Satish Shah makes his century in full good health.

Over a Cup of Chai

2006-05-28T23:29:00.000-07:00

Mumbai can turn dreams into reality

It was a hot summer afternoon and as I sipped some steaming hot chai dunked in glucose biscuit with my friend, I looked at the little boy- the helper at the tea stall as I always did, when I visited the tea stall. My eyes wandered to get a glimpse of the little boy as he hurried from one end to other distributing chai, collecting the chai cups, washing them.

Every time I saw that little kid, my heart cried to the fact that this little boy had to work so hard in the burning son. To which my friend remarked “You don’t have to be sorry for them, rather never be sorry, this is Mumbai, anyone who comes to the city and has the determination and dedication to make it big, will make it big. Today you see this kid distributing chai; ten years down the line he may own a restaurant. Mumbai is a land full of opportunities, you just have to find yours, look at me when I was in college to pay my debts I too have washed dishes, but today it’s different. Indians are survivors; we can go through shit but still come out of it so well”

I paused for a minute to think about what he has just said, one part of me did not want to agree to the fact, how could I not feel sorry for a little kid wandering in the sun, serving people, but as I looked at him again, I realized how right he was. Years ago he too had worked hard, working with a caterer, traveling to remotest parts of the country in the heat and sun repairing sugarfactory machines, working for employees who didn’t pay, running from landlords, and finally he had fought all odds and arrived in life with a great job, a good stock market game and a house he owned. It all seemed like a movie, but it wasn’t, it was so real, a real life hero stood in front of him.

His remark made me look at the little boy with a different perspective, who knows some day this little boy may became a proud owner of a Udupi restaurant or own a catering unit and make his parents proud. I guess some people are born with a fortune and some with the qualities to make their fortune.

But there were thousands of such children across the city, the country and even the world, to how many would fortune shine? How many would destiny change.

Leopold Cafe

2006-05-12T04:06:00.000-07:00

Leopold is a bar- café tucked in the heart of the Colaba causeway, and had became a place of great interest to me after reading Shantaram which made me look at Mumbai with a totally different angle. I was very keen on visiting the café and observing the activities that I had easily ignored on my previous trips

Flashback
I still remember the first time I visited Leopold café. I was in college, and had heard a lot about this place from our seniors in Rotaract. Infact, going to Leopold was more like an event I was looking forward too. The visit that time was interesting, although I don’t think I had really observed the people around, the kick was just about visiting the place and telling the world you had been there. Couple of years later when my office was in town we often visited Leopold but always headed to the bar upstairs.

May 2006

As I walked to Leopold through Colaba Causeway I looked at the animated hoarding with bold lettering and pictures shouting out Leopold since 1837. This was new signage which has replaced the old simple Leopold sign recently.
When we walked in a firang guy, who was probably aGerman seated at the table near the open door, greeted us, welcoming us inside.After sometime we realized he was trying to make conversation with the other men seated on the table behind us.Suddenly he was standing between our table and the table behind and announced that he sang very well and would do a special performance for us. I was extremely excited and hoped to see some action, but unfortunately the guy simply sat on the table with those men and disappeared after a few minutes.

I saw this young guy probably in his 20s with a plastic bag, standing outside, looking inside than talking on his cell phone, minutes later he caught a table next to us and after sometime ventured outside exchanged bags with a middle-aged man and returned back enjoying his beer, leaving my mind to wander what the deal could have been. Amidst the chaos there was a group of American and Korean tourists who were competing with each other on doing a beer bottoms up. When I went for a visit to the washroom, I saw this firang women chatting with a Indian guy near the washbasin. The guy probably in his mid 30`s looked like some kind of agent, again this could just be a figment of my imagination. He chatted with the women enquiring about her health, and telling her she looked much better, maybe the new drug the doctor suggested her must have helped her.

Leopold has a total different culture even within its two sections. The non- ac section is full of tourists, very few Indians. The interiors gives it the 80`s look. The big old clock, the paintings of rockstars, musicians probably of 70`s or 80`s, the sign of the parsi logo( don’t know whats it supposed to be called) on the windows above and casual irani chairs and tables. Hemi pointed out the good thing about having the menu sandwiched on the glass table, thus not bothering to wait for the waiter to bring the menu to order. Also downstairs you have to pay first to get your alcohol. I wonder how this place would have been in 18 71 don’t think my grandfather ever visited it.

Upstairs is more like a lounge bar, there is music, you will find very few foreigners upstairs.

All in all, I think I like Leopold, an interesting place to hangout, maybe I should go their often.

Check this out too
http://www.outlookindia.com/photoessays.asp?serial=1&foldername=20060510&filename=shantaram&storyid=1&mode=1

Oddities Meme

2006-05-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

Satya tagged me onto this…
The Meme rules:
Once you are tagged you MUST write a blog entry about your 10 weird habits/things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next six people to be tagged and list their names.

I am an adventurer, I love exploring and traveling the world
I am a complete foodie and love to visit all kinds of food places right from a small eatery crammed amidst a chawl to a shady bar to a fancy Italian or Thai restaurant to a swanky restaurant in an five star
I love to soak and experience the culture and traditions of the places I visit. For e.g when I go on a backpack trip, I travel in the local modes of transport,( cycles ricks, local buses etc), speak to locals, try a visit a local family, try their cuisine, visit their religious places, learn about their traditions etc
I love to try out different things, especially when it means breaking the norms for e.g. Taking the last train home, traveling at odd hours in rickshaws, visiting an eatery where women are not allowed.Visiting a dance bar is one of the things that i have been wanting to do for ages
I love to walk and trek. The longest I have probably walked is from Kandivali to Siddhivinayak, a cool 6 hours. I also like to run, but the longest I have run is about 7 km at the marathon.
I love to walk through the streets of any city, town or village observing the intricacies of the place the people. There is always something new to discover with every walk even if its repeated
I love reading, mostly Indian fiction. Shantaram and Maximum city are my favorite books.
I hate crowded trains, maybe coz I haven’t learnt to get in to them and Dadar station
I get very irritated with people who make false promises.
I love watching the sea, sunset and sunrise

Six people who should do this:
(if you haven't already done it)

Mr brownstone, bombayroads, veena, fuzzyworld,shaheer
manfrommiddleeast

If you may wonder WTF is meme

Its an idea, project, statement or even a question that is posted by one blog and responded to by other blogs. Although the term encompasses much of the natural flow of communication in the Blogosphere
www.fzelders.nl/weblog/

Dancing to tunes or notes…

2006-04-27T03:53:00.000-07:00

Do they dance? What do they wear? Who are these girls? Why do they take up such a job? Right from the time I was a teenager, I have always been curious to find out about the very popular Dance bars of Bombay. There were a couple of these bars in nandi galli, Bandra which I would often pass on my way to the station. I remember one of the names, Asha bar and restaurant. I was very curious to know what happens in these bars, my father who was a very open minded person, agreed to put an end to my curiosity about the dance bars by answering all my queries related to them, little had he known that he has just sowed the seed to by curiosity. He said he had visited one of them, on the insistence of one of his clients for a meeting, he totally hated it. It had loud music, women fully dressed and dancing to glaring loud music and men throwing money at them. He told me that it was the first and last time he ever visited one and would never go their again. When I asked him what he thought about these women dancing in the bars? Was a good thing or a bad? I loved his answer must share it with you

“beta, these girls who work in the bar, do not like to work here, they are doing these out of a need to feed their families. We live in a society, where every man has a physiological and psychological need for attention, sex etc, thus when he comes to a dance bar his ego is satisfied because he can throw money and get attention from any women present there. Its because of these girls, that girls like you are safe to go roam around the city even late at time without the fear of getting molested or raped, like in cities of the north. You should actually be grateful to them”

Over the period of years my inquisitiveness for the dance bars increased and I tidbits of information about them from friends, journalists, books

No entry charge to get into a bar
Women are fully dressed usually in the most gaudy clothes and they dance to latest Bollywood hits
There are various levels in the dance a bar catering to different strata’s, the Nightlovers at Andheri is supposed to be very sleek and fancy and probably the most expensive of the lot. Deepa bar at Parle is medium. However there used to be tons of these bars across Dahisar and Borivali. The fancier one in the suburbs used to be Jharna
At these bars you cannot touch the women, there are bouncers present
I am told the men through money at the girl or buy a 100 or ten rupees garland and give it to the girl
The guys who visit these bars are usually businessmen, local gangsters, drug peddlers, film producers etc. Some visitors often blow up to lakhs or even cores within one night. I guess it’s a good vent for their black money
The water and beer in dance bars is very expensive. For e.g. a bottle of water is Rs 100.
The bars have been operating for many years under the cultural dance performances license
Most of the girls who work in these bars work in shifts. 9pm to 1pm and 1pm to 5pm. So if you ever take the last train at 1:15 from church gate and sit in the ladies general compartment you will find loads of these girls entering at Grant road station and Dadar. Chatting about the latest makeup, talking about the irritating client at the bar, laughing and joking around these girls company is sure to make your ride home enjoyable
Dance bars are a topic of great interest. Reams and reams of newsprint has been dedicated to dance bars whether its on websites, books, newspapers or television. Channels. Infact when the state government lifted the ban on dance bars it was the front page news of every single newspaper in Mumbai.

Dance bars is something synonym with Mumbai. I wonder why such places haven’t opened in Delhi or Gujarat. I am told Bangalore has a few dance bars. Dubai has some very fancy ones; infact after the ban in Mumbai, many of them went to work in the dance bars in Dubai
and Bangalore

However, finally when I convinced a set of my friends to take me to dance bar or cham cham bar as it is called, it got prolonged, I went out of the country for a couple of months and when I was back they had banned the dance bars. Now there is hope after the government has lifted the ban

Children…. The Little Angles… The Child Workers…

2006-04-25T23:48:00.000-07:00

Those innocent eyes, the infectious smile hidden behind all the hardships and troubles that engulf their lives, the ever eager hands, always ready to help. Those little hearts which need very little to make it happy. You will find them everywhere you go

At a construction site as their parents try to make ends meet, covered with the cement dust these 4-5 year olds try to give their parents a helping hand by helping the chaiwala serve tea or carry bricks. These little hearts seem so happy and relaxed in their surroundings, the desire for the latest toy car, or the latest superman dvd is totally alien to them, it’s the construction site filled with stones, mud and cement which is their playground where they try their hand on guli danda or cricket, and the earth is their bed and the new construction sites they move to with their parents is home.

At the chaiwala you will find these 6 -7 year old energetically washing the chai glasses, serving you chai and happily collecting your glasses back. In spite of washing glasses after glasses and serving the hundreds of chai drinkers throughout the day, there doesn’t seem to be an element of monotony or boredom in their eyes. With every serving of chai there is that innocent smile for you.

At traffic signal, in trains
These are the slightly street smart variety, the child entrepreneur kinds. They will come selling anything from newspapers, to pirated books, to flowers, to cleaning your cars, to singdana with excellent marketing slogans” Didi, yeah book bahut acha hai, award winning hai, last copy hai, didi lei lo na “ one 7 year old tells me, trying to persuade me be to buy a pirated Maximum City. It’s not an easy job for these kids, running between cars at traffic signals in rain or sun shine, minding their belongings and selling them in crowded trains, keeping peace with other fellow vendors. The survival instinct in these little stars has made them shun their innocent days of childhood to learn the tricks of the trade or should be say the survival trade.

They are everywhere this little child, my heart goes out to them. What wrong have they done god that they cannot even cherish the joys of childhood….

Reading can add spice to your life

2006-04-23T22:54:00.000-07:00

Books never fascinated me. I never inculcated the habit of reading in spite of having a zillion books at my disposal, most of which were gifts from my uncle and aunt in the US and books picked up by my dad. The shelf was full of books which I had never read and later and often ended up being disposed off to cousins, neighbors or the raddiwalas.

But one fine day, maybe about 2- 3 years ago, I just happened to pick up a book my aunt was reading. - The uncommon errors of my life- short stories. I completely enjoyed reading it. Couple of months later, I saw myself walking into the swanky Crossword bookstore in Inorbit Mall, browsing through the fiction section, and this is when I completely amazed myself by spending my first penny on books and chucked away my old belief that buying books were a waste of money. I remember the books I purchased. Picture Perfect- detective stories on which the serial Bymokmesh Bakshi was made. It a great book, I completely enjoyed reading it. The others were Shobha Des books and short stories which were fun to read too. After that my rendezvous with books hasn’t stopped. However some books can leave quite an impression on your mind, or probably change the way you look at things.

Shantaram & Maximum city

After reading Shantaram, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that my perception of looking at Bombay changed; it made me zoom in the dreams, the aspirations, the struggles, the joys of the lakhs of people who make Bombay their home. Today when I look at a slum, my earlier vision of dirt and clutter is taken over by the thought of how the family lives in the little cramped house, what is their lifestyle? What’s their idea of entertainment or eating out? I wonder how life is for them, and how similar it could be to what was described in the book. I wanted to visit Leopold’s and witness all the illegal- legal trades that happen there as mentioned in the book. Whenever I walk through Cuffe Parade and slums there I wonder if any of these people, I pass by are one of the characters from the book. For some reason the chaos and the madness of the trains and the buses, now seem interesting to me.

When I read about the encounters in the newspapers I wonder how true they are compared to the things described in Maximum City. When I read about a movie receiving slags from censor, government etc, I wonder if their struggle to get their movie released is similar to the directors or producer who faced a similar struggle as described in the book. When the court lifted the ban on the dance bars, I thought about the girls who have been described in the book and wonder what their reaction would be to the announcement. Life seems to have become so interesting for me, today when I take a walk down a road I look at the people around trying to figure out the stories of each of their lives. Imagination is such a powerful tool; your imagination can make a street kid’s life also so interesting for you, if you look at all the facets of his life

I don’t know whether it’s my age or it’s the books that have made me too look at the finer details of life that I had completely ignored over the past so many years, definitely adding a lot of spice to everything you do

Mornings…….

2006-04-20T12:41:00.000-07:00

I have always loved the early mornings. Its calmness, its energy, is infectious. I cherish the darkness of the mornings, the fresh air. There is a great feeling to be awake right before the world rises. Giving you company are the sleepy watchmen’s cuddled in their shawls trying to catch up on their sleep. The milkman ridding on their cycles trying to reach the homes of their sleepy customers. Streets are dark, shops are closed, the only shop that is all lit up and open is the milk dairy. Some early joggers are strolling towards the park. The only thing open is the milk dairy where the owner seems to be screaming at the worker over some matter. The chaiwala is also pumping the stove to prepare his first cuppa of chai for the day. Often I have seen these chaiwalas pour a glass of chai on the street once it’s prepared as an offering to earth

As I stroll through my building as workers near a construction site bathe in the cold of the darkness, I look at my building which seems so calm with hardly any lights on and sound of alarms ringing and probably a mixer churning some juice.

After a quick breakfast at 7:30a.m I leave home for work. As I get into a rickshaw to go to the station, I look at the school children waiting to be picked up by their buses or rickshawalas. Mothers giving children some last minute instructions or revising a test lesson or running back home to get a copy of a book the child may have forgotten is a common sight.

But now comes the chaos. As I come close to Kandivali station, the peace seems to have been disturbed with the traffic jam, thanks to dug up roads. I run over the bridge to catch my train. However the compartment is overcrowded and I have still not got a hang to push my self in .Mind you it not really the rush hour, finally at 8:01, two trains later I finally get in. The train compartment is an experience in itself. You get to see all kinds of people; some people have their own groups and thus something to always chat about, not to forget t the dabbas of mithais and snacks that open up when there is a special celebration. Married women discussing the vows of married life, weekend plans, a sick relative, college students discussing their gawky professor or the miseries of chemistry or algebra. Young women blabbering on their cell phones. Minus the pushing and no space in the compartment the train compartment can be as interesting as a gripping novel or juicy soap opera.

Well as I get off the train at one of the most crowded station of Mumbai- Dadar, My attention is captured by the small breakfast shops outside the station selling vada pav, to poha to bhajiya pav. The flower market and vegetable market of Dadar is something you just can’t miss. As I walk outside the busy street and take a cab, it’s back to by inside world my office, where I don’t have to worry about the heat and the sun, all I am bothered by is the AC duct which is right above my desk

A date with Sunset

2006-03-12T22:22:00.000-08:00

What’s so special about a Sunset? What is it that drives hoards of people across the world to go and view a Sunset? Is it the magic of nature or is it the calm vibes that the setting sun passes off that we all aspire to receive? Whatever the reason maybe this Sunday I decided to watch the sun bid adieu to the weekend, amidst the scenic surroundings of Bombay’s skyline.
As I walked through the bay from Churchgate station, I saw a variety of people sitting on the wall facing the sea leading upto Nariman Point. Old people, children from all age groups (literally saw a 6 month old kid too), young couples, college students, foreigners, local tourists and from all strata’s of society. Seems like the sea and the sun had the power to bring all kinds of people together. As I looked at those many faces, I wondered what it that brings so many people here is.

I reached the dead end of Nariman Point and parked my self on the palli to get the perfect view of the sun. It seemed so beautiful, the orange twilight in the sky, the birds flying, the calm waves of the sea, it all seemed like a freshly painted canvas, but it wasn’t a painting it was a real creation, a real creation of mother nature. As the sun dipped into the horizon, all the eyes fluttered towards the sun, it seemed like mother nature has come to showcase its magic tricks and within a couple of minutes the magic show was over and the sun was gone leaving the orange reflection which looked so beautiful.

Another thing that captured my attention were the little rockstars of Mumbai, the 10 and 11 year old street smart kids displaying their entrepreneur skills selling everything from channa to chai, I felt so proud of those little boys who knew to make their living by whatever means.
A couple of minutes later, someone blurted, look the sun has gone here and behind the moon has come out. Seems like the next show from Mother Nature had just began. As we walked back, I think I got my answer, its the magic of mother nature that brings us all here.

A walk through time...

2006-03-06T23:36:00.000-08:00

Well I don’t know whether it was the religious sentiments in me or the adventurer in me that evoked me one Saturday early morning to take a walk from Kandivali to Siddhivinayak (Prabhadevi).I got up at 3am, mom was very clear she wouldn’t allow me to get out of the house before 5:00 a.m however we ended up with a compromise and I left at 4:15a.m wrapping my shoes in a plastic bag. As I walked out of the building, it was pitch dark, the sky still waiting for the sun. The only people on the road were sleepy watchmen drooling from their chairs at the gates, milkman on their cycles and a couple of the dairy’s which seemed in full action. As I walked further, with my feet liking the cold warmth of the thick earth, especially when the stones didn’t puncture my feet, I heard the howling of dogs and some of them just passing by me. But the real adventure was yet to begin. As I walked through the narrow lane, I heard the howling of the stray dogs, although I followed the rule my father taught me to always ignore the dogs when they are howling. As I ignored the loud howls of the dogs the tempo increased, more dogs joined in, my mind waggled with the idea of shouting at the dogs or throwing stones, but the worry that these stray dogs may bite me just putting an end to my walkathon plans kept me away from trying my stunts. In a minute I was surrounded by a group of dogs howling at me, at that moment I thought the 14 injections in the stomach was now going to be a reality.Thankfully a rickshaw passed through and distracted the dogs and I managed to come on to the main road.

As I reached the main road that too just at Kandivali I was already feeling a little tired and the culprit were the stones that were pricking my feet. The walk from Kandivali to Andheri was quite boring and long the only things I saw were the chai shops making their first cuppa of tea and than throwing a cuppa of chai on the street maybe as an offering to earth. Temples still were closed and the pujari seemed to be busy doing some work. People sleeping in peace out side the pavement of small shops and just one bakery the eagle bakery which was so lit up that it seemed like a light shop. As I walked further towards jogeshwari, I bumped into a couple of the Jain monks those who travel the world on foot. Actually seeing them walking that too barefoot made me feel a little happy and I tried to increase my speed, but they overtook me in just a matter of few minutes. As I came towards jogeshwari, I saw a glimpse of dawn with the namaz prayers oozing from the mosques and many Muslim men walking in out of the mosque. 3 hours later I reached Andheri it was about 7:00a.m and I looked at the two schools both in a dilapidated condition on the left side before shoppers stop. The children rushing in from their school buses, some playing in the background took me back to my school days. The cake shops at Andheri station Mewans reminded me of the some really good cake and savories I had relished a couple of years ago when I was in college and also a very simple looking hotel near the station which me and some of my college friends had discovered while waiting for our other buddies. I still remember the joy and pleasure each of us felt that day at the end of that meal that evening for having discovered a new place.

As I reached Vile Parle those college days just flashed my memory , the hurry to reach college from the station to make it in time for the 7:00 a.m lecture time as the Prof often closed the door or made the latecomers stand outside. Me and my friends had spent countless hours bitching about this weird rule of our Prof, Cant he understand trains are never on time? The bus is not run by his father in law? Those were the days. But as I walked further I came across the smashan where Papa bid his final adieu to the world. Further down Nanavati hospital brought in mixed feelings, the place where my sister was born, the place where I had the opportunity to spend many nights and days through various medical epilogues of my parents and relatives. There were times that the hospital stays were so common that I had almost memorized the entire menu of the Nanavati canteen which was undoubtedly good. Moving further I cam across the now defunct Venue restaurant which a couple of years ago, I had been a part of its relaunch. Being my first job out of college, I still remember I feared going home post the launch party even at 11p.m. ( that’s crazy coz a year back that’s the time my events would actually begin).

Santacruz brought me memories of the vaishnav temple I used to visit so often. I still remember as a kid who loved to walk and had nothing better in life to do in a summer vacation, I used to walk from my home in Bandra to Santacruz and enjoy singing the kirtans with the kirtanyaji. Khar and the Pupils school reminded me of all those great stories Papa used to tell me about his school, about his teacher troubling him and him taking panga with the teacher, to the great dramas and art exhibitions he would organize.

As I reached Bandra I looked through that narrow lane at the end of which lay my old house. Those pictures of me leaving for school early in the mornings, to those countless tantrums I gave mom on my way home from school to persuade her to buy me something from the local store, the endless times I left my mothers hand to run and cross the road, enjoying the sight of her getting hysterical, to the countless rides on the pony at Bandstand that my grandparents took me too, those visits to almeida park or the playground next door with my bhuji(bua), the frequent visits to the Orthodontist, the unnumbered rounds to supermarket at the Petrol pump, to the countless birthdays my parents celebrated for me at Siddharth hotel just brushed my eyes. Bandra talao brought me memories of those few boating encounters I had when the boating started there, to the maha-artis I attended at the Jari Mari temple opp the Talao.

Walking further I came across the mosque which seemed beautiful with its carving. Walked across Mahim causeway which seemed very dull and deem not like the pretty site it was during the evenings when the sun was about to set it. As I walked through the road that connects causeway to Hinduja hospital I was amazed by the diversity of the street. First you come across the Muslim dargah, followed by a mosque, a Hindu temple and further a Jain derasar, So much of religious diversity in one street unbelievable. Its was over five and half hours now since I had been walking, the sun was out and was bothering me I was also getting very tired. Shivaji Park and a couple of minutes later I was at my destination Siddhivinayak. As I looked through my walk of 6 hours I felt I had walked through my life and revisited all those wonderful memories.

Mumbai- A city within a city

2006-02-01T04:48:00.000-08:00

Men coming in and out of the small mosques after completing their prayers, Burkhaclad women bargaining with the fruitwala or hungry stomachs gulping down the khicdha or chicken tandoori at the local joints, carts selling fresh fruits. Are you in Mumbai or small Islamic town is a question which will definitely cross your mind when you walk through the streets of Mohamadali road especially during Ramzan when the streets are lgnited up with fancy lights and night is full of gastromic fantasies ranging from the malpua to sherkurma or the kababs

When you drive a couple of miles down Mohamad ali road you come to a very Maharashtrian suburb of Lalbaug. Pav vada stalls, zunkha bhakar kendras, vegetable vendors, navari saree shops, musical instruments shops, Chudagali where you get a range of chivdas and much more is what a walk around this suburb will offer you. But during Ganesh Utsav this place looks like a wedding hall, absolutely lit up with the fanciest lights, hosting the biggest Ganpati of Mumbai. But to get one glimpse of the Lalbaug ka Raja one has to stand in line for hours.

When you go further down towards Matunga (JIP)it’s a totally different world again. You feel you have just entered a city in South India. Tons of shops selling the lungis and traditional kanchiwaram sarees, to the lovely spread of south Indian eateries and the neatly carved temples this place is sure to give you a taste of South India.

Moving to Bandra- The queen of suburbs. To get the real taste of a Portuguese village walk down the small streets of Bandra near Mount Marry, The bazzar road and chapel road with its tiny cottages and its small shops will definitely give you a flavour of a Colonial Portuguese village. You will also come across some very beautiful churches, Mount Mary, St Johns church and sea view from Bandstand is divine. Things to watch out in Bandra are the Bandra fair in September and Xms ofcourse.

Mumbai has so many facets to discover.. This is just the beginning. Watch this space for more on Aamchi Mumbai and do send in your contributions

Travelogues from the land of uncle Sam

2005-10-24T05:45:00.000-07:00

Travelogues from the land of uncle Sam

Trains…

9 July 2005

To begin with how different can train rides be. I guess its a universal principle that trains have to always be late whether its the rajdhani or the amtrack. Well my rendezvous with trains
in the United states begins with waiting at the Ann Arbor station to board my train to Chicago.

Part of the waiting is because am early and partly coz the train is late. Well as i park my self at the station awaiting the train i want some coffee, i walk around and only find the sloppy vending machines this is where i miss the chai walas and the fruit walas who are present even in the remotest railway stations in India. The train ride reminds me of the one i had taken a couple of months ago from Ernakulam to Cochin( where i actually boarded a wrong train but thats a different story)

Its the same thing getting in the train looking for a seat for your self, well the difference is in India if i found the seat and wanted to reserve and have it to my self i would just have to bribe the ticket collector and get a reserved ticket. But over hear I get a seat easily coz i guess very few ppl travel in long distance train.

On board i find a seat easily but once i am seated i am reminded of the chaos, the jabbering mouths and curious eyes which engulf you if your a single on board on a train in India.

The view outside is similar to the train rides in India, forests, country houses but you cant see the children on the streets playing gulidanda and waving out to you.

When I get hungryi i miss the chai wala and the coldrink wala who come a zillion times on the trains in India enticing you to buy something or the other. Well i walk two coaches ahead to the cafe where there is already a que of people lined up. I look at the menu obviously very few options for vegetarians but i get some cereal and milk for myself. Getting off the train was similar to getting off at Bombay central station but bombay central station slightly more brighter
All in all whether its the rajdhani, the flying rani or the amtrack train rides are fun, they have some magic in them. I just completly enjoy the trains( Longdistance, local trains in Mumbai- bad idea) .
So are u upto getting on the train for your next trip

The theliwalas - Mumbai`s Little Rockstars

2005-10-18T06:02:00.000-07:00

The theliwalas - Mumbai`s Little Rockstars

Yesterday i went vegetable shopping with my cousin to the shakgali ( veg market)in Grant road. Yes amidst normal chaos and hustle bustle of vegetable vendors added to the half jammed road due to the ganesh pandal i was stopped a couple of times by these 8- 9 year old boys asking me "' didi theli uthaiya" and this was not once but a couple of times, some of boys were even in the municpal school uniform. A further enquiry later i found out about this smart and hardworking boys unusual profession. They basically carry the heavy veg bags of the auntys, grannies whoever are shopping there and sometimes even carry it for them till their residences all for a meagre Rs 10- 15. I am so proud of these little boys they sure know how to earn their pocket money. Salaam Mumbai

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Dandiya Dhamaka

2005-10-18T05:49:00.000-07:00

Navratri, is one festival which is sure to ensure, you to get u up on your feet. There has to be something in this amazing festivals, which everyone waits for. I went for one of the biggest and popular dandiya- Sankalp.0 The true Dandiya queen- Falguni Pathak`s voice definately has the power to get one`s foot tapping. As i stood, there reflecting at the thousands of people, present there, some watching just enjoying the music, some trying their first hand on the garba and some simply dancing to kill.
There has to be something about this festival that drives people from all communities to come and enjoy the thrills of navratri. Is it all about advertising and the hype? Is it about particpating in ones festival ? A youngsters excuse to go to a parents authorised disc or is it simply the festive spirit. I still remember, as a kid i always looked forward to navratri, which happend in our buildings. There wernt loudspeakers, but a simple dhol wala and people would sing.
I was never to good at the dandiya or garba, so i dont know whether it was the drive to learn it or was my fathers singing at these navratris that drived me to not miss even a single day of the navratri in the building. As time passed by the small celebrations in our buildings came to an end and it went on to the big disco dandiyas that happened, thus me taking seat in front of my television screen and flipping channels to watch the diffrent dandiya`s. But what i really love about navratri, is that brings out the folk culture of gujrat, Infact some day i would like to go and watch the navratri in ahmedabad or baroda. i have heard, the celebrations there have still kept the traditional elements intactThe Garba Rass for the year is over, but if you still want to give your hands a shot with garba and dandiya- Sharadpunam should be a day to look outcheersDD

The Fake Business

2005-10-18T05:48:00.000-07:00

The Fake Business

In todays world one can possibly buy any fake item, whether it’s an Armani suit, a Lui Vuitong bag, a Mont blanc pen. Fakes are popular worldwide. It’s a great tool for some to satisfy their desire for the best brands at not even half its original price. I remember I was walking down fifth avenue in Manhattan a couple of months ago, the street which houses the best of the brands and it was ironical to see a road side bags vender selling a fake Loui Vuitong bag just outside the Loui Vuitong showroom. Just to tickle my sense of pricing I asked the vendor on the street the cost of a particular Lui Vuitong bag, 45$, if u want ill negotiate was his answer, then I walked in to the store and enquired about the originals price which was a booming 750 $
Coming back to the topic of fakes, this question has been crossing my mind for quite some time. When we can have Fakes available in most of the luxurious products why can’t one find a fake car. Imagine a fake Mercedes Benz

I bounced this question to some of my friends and collegeous and came across some interesting answers

A car is one of the most complex propositions to construct, thus probably the money that’s goes in manufacturing is single fake car would be must higher than the actual cost at it is a single unit

A car is an expensive item, does no one really wants to take the risk of building something which may not sell

Any other reasons ? write in to add to the list

Cheer s
DD

Day 1- Trip down south

2005-01-23T23:25:00.000-08:00

Its Day 1 of My trip down south. Havent done much just planned the trip today. landed in Calicut only at 7:30 thanks to the efficient airline services.Staying at Sunny`s house which is a typical huge south indian house bustling with people. His wife made some really yump wheat dosas for dinner, i thought it was just amazing with some three types of chutneys and some really yump sambhar. Interestlingly wheat dosas are not available at hotels or restaurants as its not very popular, but i too freaked over it, Post dinner planned . Going to explore Calicut tomm will check out the musuem, malabar gold market etc and will be off to Trichur on tueday, Wednesday, Thursday plan to spend in Cochin and than move on to Munnarback to calicut and than wAYANAD. seems interesting lets wait and watch