Southern Escapade- Pondicherry

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

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

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

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

“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

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

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.