The Neighbourhood Sofamaker

In the bylanes near my apartment a certain 'Bombay Sofaworks' pronounced itself. It was a typical ground floor, two door house with one part of the house filling as the workspace. It was here I found him; spartan in every sense of the word - dishevelled hair, unkempt beard and always clad in long, crumpled white. Everyday, sitting around a sewing machine with pieces of sofas or their parts strewn all over he was lost in his own sweet world. That probably meant the world to him; the machine making music to the dance of his feet and earned him his bread. Looking around one could see signs of a joint family. There was a makeshift yard with hens trotting along, kids playing and maidens strutting around under the pretence of laying out washed clothes. I wondered how he took care of all these people; was also flumoxed as to where these people disappeared. Always wondered that the single minded dedication came from the fact that he had so many people to support. He loved his work though - beneath the smug image there was happiness when he had work on hand. You always felt it in the air. There was the warmth of Rafi saab's voice around.

I had just moved to my new place. The sparkling newness of the place slowly gave way to a much more worldliness. We ordained that our sofa needed a second set of covering. My wife looked around her contacts and found Mohammed, uncle of our furniture wallahs tailor. Mohammed announced himself as a very competent tailor. He sounded almost too eager when I spoke to him over the phone, so much so that he immediately took measurements and gave me a price to complete this. We like to tread over eagerness with caution. I wasn't averse to getting this done but looked to take my time to say yes to Mohammed. He called me occasionally; sometimes at odd hours. I sensed a sound of desperation at times. I remember he had offered to get some good designs at his cost. Perhaps to entice me to get the work done by him. I now remembered his number from the frequent calls.

Mohammed calls though ebbed and flowed. I found that when my neighbourhood sofamaker had his courtyard jacked with work to do, my cellphone never heard from Mohammed. On the more sullen days the music from his courtyard never flared. I heard music courtesy via Mohammed though; he seemed bent to reach out to me and Rafi waxed from my phone. I was convinced the sofamaker I so admired and Mohammed the one I avoided uneasily was the same person. I needed to put the question to rest though. An evening walk with my wife to look at the sofamakers stifled paradise confirmed this. I was besotted with feelings of despair and thrill. Here was one person I had silently known for a while, someone I was worried about when he wasn't to be seen; someone I liked to see playing with his kids. Someone who's music I admired and paused sometimes to listen. That someone I had connected to and being worldly unwise decided to contemplate that extra bit before offering some of the work I needed done. I found myself smaller realising it pays to do things from the heart.

That instant I decided that he was doing the work at my home, promising to myself that I would call up Mohammed the next morning. He would have been happier that he got his work from the person he had tried to impress; not from a bystander who witnessed him at work and someone who he probably hadn't ever seen.

I called him up the next morning but couldn't reach him. While coming back from work that day I meandered over to his place only to be met with darkness; the house all locked up. Gone were the hens and the chirpy kids. There was an eerie silence. I went back both days of the weekend with a prayer on my lips hoping to find the family back but returned back disappointed. Life kind of bestowed some emptiness to my being; a sense of vacuum. I just wished though that the family had perhaps gone to visit their friends or their hometown.

And, I was right. Monday was back with the tune of Rafi's 'Aaj mausam bada bayiman hai...'. The living area was a collection of hordes of sofa material and work for a few days seemed to be at hand. I decided that my work could wait for a rainy day when the stack was empty and music hummed at its slighest.

Welcome to Chennai...

...screamed one of the giant hoardings as my train made way to Chennai Central. The air felt different this time - rainy and cold; by Chennai standards anyways. I was now used to the routine of getting down at the station and finding my way to my uncle's place in Royapuram. And this includes haggling with the auto drivers although I am usually no good at convincing them to what I think was the right price. I waited for my brother to come along soaking in the smell of rain around. It is amazing how refreshing a morning can look time and again. Even better with a bit of mist around.

I let my brother negotiate the prices with the auto drivers. A little bit of knowledge of the local language helps I guess. Very soon we were on our way meandering through crowds initially and then with a little more free will. These short rides took me back in time. I have my opinions of the city and some childhood memories which will always stay with me.

We tend to gravitate towards the bigger cities. Ala the protagonist of a movie they tend to make all the headlines. Chennai has been the nondescript.  The quintessential character artist, staying in the background yet robust and central to the storyline. Whilst most cities tend to bedeck themselves extravagantly almost tending to the Utopian, Chennai seems to less fashionably blend in. It does not seem to be a facade. Not a stone out of place.

And it has certainly got it's heart in the right place. As a child I looked forward to a stopover in the city on my way to Kerala. It was just a half day layover but it promised warmth. Warmth is where you feel welcome in a house full of people. It is when you have cousins waiting to spend the day with you. It is when you are received at the station at 4 am in the morning. It is also when your train doesn't have a stopover at Chennai but your friends still come to meet you at a station two hours away. It is a city that gave a standing ovation to a Pakistan cricket team that beat India in a close match. It also pronounces the best brand loyalty with the city franchisees in IPL.

I go back to this city every year just to watch it from the sidelines. Every Chennaite I asked doesn't dislike your city but they'd unwaveringly go back, whenever they get a chance to 'their' Chennai. As I end this journey I look forward to my night train to this city again. Just like filter coffee or ‘kaapi’ as they call it, it feels better each time.

For the love of it..

She was back, looking disconsolately at me. Her soft silhouette stuck the curvature of my eyes and I for one couldn't miss the coy glances once the eyes met. Delicately draped in exotically printed patterns, her elegance hadn't gone down one bit since we had last crossed paths. It was a case of the nondescript me, muddled in the mires of work meeting the classy her; looking divine. We had hit off well but gradually ended up spending less time with each other owing to workloads. Though we had briefly flirted aeons ago the time was ripe again to indulge. Our courtship is perhaps meant to be. Wondering the identity of such a sassy being?

I am talking about the book I had begun reading a while ago and gave up. Been a while - time to keep up my date.

So long, Murali

I must confess at the outset that I’ve never tried following you that much because you were from another country. I perhaps first noticed you during the controversies that happened in Australia where you were so ridiculously no-balled repeatedly. I am a minimalist; purely following cricket for the purity and grace bereft of the technicalities. Never felt you were a chucker. I also felt that there were many other bowlers who ‘seemed’ to chuck but were never called. Everybody agreed that you were being humiliated. You stood strong in the midst of all this. I am sure you were proud of your captain at that time.

You came back stronger from those trials. Your strike rate never went down; nor did your smile. Even at the most desperate of situations I haven’t seen you frown at an opposite batsman or your own team member. Sure, you’ve shown disappointment which is pure instinctive.

You perhaps could easily have reached 1000 wickets if you wanted to – and you know that. But you choose to leave it all in one blaze of glory - choosing your final bow, achieving 8 wickets against a pretty good Indian team and going away in a fairytale ending. Being an Indian fan, I was wishing you could take the 9th wicket and it would start raining buckets in Galle but it was never to be!

Perhaps it was fitting that your team won, weather permitting or otherwise. You always were a winner, and a very nice guy; proving once again that nice guys don’t always finish last. You are respected as a person and as a cricketer all through my country and cricket is a loser today that you aren’t playing test cricket anymore.

School days

Like a whiff of fresh air? Or the first showers post summer? Does the thought of your school days kindle the same kind of feeling in you? It does in me.

“You will come back to me in the future and tell me that your school life was the best” said my teacher. Looking back now one couldn’t agree more. Although I yearn to go back to my alma mater and repeat this statement back to my teacher I haven’t made it back as yet. I don’t want to go into the labyrinth of reasons as to why I haven’t done it. All this while I figured that one’s time as kids in school, under the nurturing eyes of our teachers; under the love and care of our parents; under the bonding of friends is indeed the best time of our lives.

Though we didn’t probably realize at that time, as kids we soaked in every bit of experience we could. We were lucky. Back then education wasn’t commercialized and we hadn’t entered the rat race of entrance exams and what not as yet.

School wasn’t really a chore. I never really remember complaining being there. I used to be irritated when the local rickshaw wallah who took me to school always turned up at the last minute. It wasn’t the kind of really late you know. The school assembly would just start the instant I arrived at the gate. Our gatekeeper (or ‘mali’ as we called him) always locked us out till the assembly session was over before he let us in. I considered this downright shameful. I never wanted to be late. Getting into high school meant I wouldn’t have to be towed by the rickshaw wallah and could walk to school. This meant a lot more freedom and almost never being late.

Then, the friends. I still remember the group of friends I bonded with - discussing exam papers, studying and playing cricket at my home. When study was deemed too much, my home verandah was converted to a cricket pitch. It was fun in the purest sense. And, then there was the walk back from school to home. We stuck back in school a few minutes after the long bell ran and slowly meandered back home. We did this on purpose though; never wanting to see the rush back of all kids going back home. We slowly ambled out, briefly engaging in watching our hostel mates playing basketball before turning back. The thrill of walking back on a Friday evening was something else as was the time when it rained. Some of my friends though having bicycles preferred to walk along wanting to join in the fun talk.

It was also a great feeling to be a loved group of students in school. Though, we did have our very own tricks all the teachers loved us. It was a bit of a shocker to me in that I did not meet any of the classmates at the time of the Board results. I was out of town on that day and that was it. Everybody just looked at their results and moved on. Perhaps it didn’t occur to us that we had to know a way to contact one other. Being just before the dot.com revolution we did not have email addresses to exchange.

Now, years hence I still think about the days we had in school. Of the praise my teacher use to give during English lessons, the punishment meted out to the whole class sometimes, all the games played in campus and at my home with friends, the year end picnics, the time of the school magazine, the special chai and snacks my mom used to make for us at home when we were around studying or playing. It isn’t faint. It is a very vivid recollection but it’s gone and can hopefully be re-lived when my kids are around and go to school.

I contemplated a bit on what to write; and then a little more on what the name of the post should be but figured that when I have a random post after a hectic week it’s better to be general than specific. So here comes my first nameless post, so to say.

For starters, I was very wrong in my previous post. I wasn’t going to get away with a lighter week at work. I must accept though that the work was lighter. It seems almost ridiculous that you end up doing reports and more reports for the work you’ve done; almost taking up a big share of the time you spend at doing the actual work itself. You need it though to convince the big bosses about how good you are at your work lest they don’t feel the need of you being there! There is a tendency to overplay, rant and display credentials of yours which actually make you feel stupid. And, you don’t even know if your audience is keen on picking the nuances you want to convey. But then you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do (even though it sounds very cliché). That summarized the week for me – there was a presentation which hogged most of my week; and a promise of more to come in the coming week. Have to go now. More later.

After a busy week

It's really been that way all week. Although I have been coaxing myself to write something; and although I had a few thoughts in mind I haven't been able to get to it. I couldn't really wind down to pick something to write for now but figured that I should post something for the week - random thoughts from the week; especially things that I heard and read.

This summer has been a scorcher already. I live in a penthouse and find it hard to survive without the air-conditioner. I can't watch any more television because the living room literally blows me dry. It was the same news around office. There were colleagues researching on the best deals on air-conditioners; talking to dealers who could deliver a product quickly; the very same people who felt that they didn't need one till last summer. Well, is it really getting hotter or are we getting too comfy living our lives primarily in enclosed cubicles in offices? Either way spreading usage of air-conditioners is not very ideal I know. How much warmer can we get our World? I am reminded of a scene from a Telugu movie called 'Aditya 369' where the protagonists travelling forward in time discover that they cannot stay on the earth's surface due to heat and radiation and live underground. That's not a good place to be. Sighs!

Sania Mirza's wedding with Shoaib Malik seemed to have caught the headlines. While we shouldn't be commenting on somebody's choice of love I do think they hogged a lot of unnecessary media space. All the talk of which country she should be playing for is uncalled for. Thinking outside the realms of nationality she must be termed as an under-achiever. All that promise; looks, combined with a fiery forehand hasn't bought in many trophies, has it? Why don't we look elsewhere? Recently, Saina Nehwal got bracketed amongst the top five badminton women players in the World. That didn't get as much space as the wedding did. Glamour does rule.

Also, the IPL fiasco between Lalit Modi and Shashi Tharoor begs a mention here. After several accusations between them they seem to be getting into trouble with the big bosses. I have a feeling that they are a few skeletons in the closet here. We'll wait and watch for things to unravel.

As I write this piece there have been a couple of explosions at Bangalore just outside the cricket stadium hosting an IPL match. The authorities decide to go through with the match even while it posed a risk to the 40,000 people at the facility to watch the match. A bigger risk though was to the nation itself. Bowing down to such fear would have lent a major success to the perpetrators of this incident. It's an act of courage by the public, authorities and the players to not bow down under such fear. Any of these people were very well within their rights to not proceed. They choose not too and send a strong message to whoever it was. It also proved that our security system is still a little too lapse and gives a few brownie points for a few people making claims that all's not well with the state of security in our country. I am sure they'll make sure this event catches a lot of headlines.

Otherwise, I am headed for a pretty low-key weekend. Little bit of stuff to take care at home after which I am headed straight back to work the day after. I look forward to a lighter week next, and perhaps some more chirps in here. Rock your weekend. Ciao.

Perfecting myself at a sport

Table-tennis is a game I enjoy immensely. My tryst with the game started while I was young at school but I never got much of an opportunity. My classmates were the champions of the school and perhaps even did well at inter school competitions. I for one was too shy and timid to even approach a table-tennis board and let them know I wasn't as good as them. There was also a question of access. My school had a single board and far too many people vying for time. That was when we started plying our trades at a crude form of squash and we became pretty good at that too. All our recess times were spent playing the game and I remember that I even pestered my mother to allow me to take lunch to school in order to allow more time for me to play.

It was during my engineering days that I got full access to a table-tennis board and started playing the game regularly. I did well in departmental competitions too. However, sport is very fickle. It makes you feel you're the king one day, only to show you unfathomable troughs the very next. Is it just a lack of practice? No. I remember we spent endless hours at the college hostel practicing specifically each different shot, a backhand here and a forehand there. Of course the chances of me doing well at a random game were good when I practiced but even so there were times when I felt helpless. I either found the net or the ping-pong hit my opponent instead of the board. It feels crazy when that happens.

Years later, I now play the game almost every day even if it is just for half an hour. Though I don't practice or take everything as seriously as I used to do earlier I still love the game like I used to earlier. However, knowing the different ways things pan out while I am at play makes be reinstate the fact I stated before. Things can get as fickle as ever. There are instances where things are a dream; the ping-pong can land wherever I want leaving people dazed. There are days like today when nothing seems to work alright. Even the pretty basic don't turn out well. Its days like these when I retire earlier than usual and spend my energies at something else, like this blog today.

However, it's a game I love a lot and I keep going back, hoping to conquer it someday.

How important is your cell phone?

Ever thought about it? Do you have the habit of not remembering any contact numbers depending wholly on your cell phone? Well, I think it's about time we changed that attitude. I was cruelly reminded about this a few months back. My cell phone was stolen. Well, in fact snatched away as I was talking by somebody on a speeding motorbike. I could be nothing but a 'blind' spectator. It was a hopeless situation because my spectacles got pulled out together with the phone and I was at that moment as good as blind. I was in luck that I was near home and could get back without the need of them spectacles. I was dazed for a moment or two before it hit me that I was robbed.

There it was, all the contacts I had, numbers of all my friends and family who seemed to always be there on speed dial, all but lost. There were some that I faintly re-collect but I had to send out an email to all I knew to send me their contact numbers. The lazy people we all are, they were just a handful who responded. I don't fault the rest because we don't have time.

This little big incident made me despise myself a little bit. Here I am, somebody pretty good with numbers, not bad at all with memorizing them too. Why do I have to depend on something which I can lose, or go broke anytime? Storing them on your cell phone memory doesn't do our memory any good! I am making an attempt to remember numbers. At least it prepares me for something similar or better still, makes me less dependant on a machine.

A weekend at Vizag - a trip down memory lane

The thought of Vizag always brings memories of the beaches, the cyclones, the lazy lifestyle and the wonderful people. It's been almost a decade since I was there so when I got a chance to go there one weekend recently I was fazed. Fazed, because my memories of Vizag are vivid childhood memories which one would never like erased by any sort of change. I was almost sure that the Vizag I knew is not probably the same anymore. We humans tend to hold the best things in our life close to our heart, forever cocooned from the perils of change. Since I wasn't going to visit much of the city I wasn't too perturbed though. I took the plunge.

We choose to stay at Rushikonda which though a little outside the realms of the city doesn't require too much commuting from the railway station. Besides, I had heard far too many good things about the bay views from the resort to leave out such an option. The views of the sea as expected were breathtaking. The resort itself was on a small hillock and it provided fascinating views of the Bay of Bengal for the occupants. One look at my room and the money we paid for the accommodation was all accounted for. Watching the waves seemingly pushing back the land, sipping a cup of chai was an awesome feeling. The unknown expanse of the ocean reaching the skies at the horizon seemed to put things in perspective. I needed that view of the ocean to remind me of the fact that we are nothing before a possible fury of nature.

It was a blessed weekend topped by rain towards the end of the weekend. It made us loathe the fact that we didn't have any more time before we returned. That said, I was happy I went back to Vizag. Inertia had set into my being - I went back once after I got a job, only once did I go back once to my school after I passed out, only once did I meet my teachers from school. All, things I want to set right. There is a sense of wrong I know but those hallowed memories are too sweet to be touched, too sweet to be spoilt by anything that doesn't confirm to what it was. Till today it was too much of a risk to take.

Passing by the city I saw lots of traces of change. There is perhaps a lot more in places I haven't been too but I kind of got the feeling that the inherent being of the city is intact. It's not just the infrastructure that makes up a city, the people do too. As long as the city doesn't become a metropolis swarming with people from all over the country (maybe even globally) the attitudes and the culture don't undergo any drastic change. It is here that Vizag doesn't seem to have been affected as yet. Hopefully it doesn't happen for a little longer. I understand that it's not good (or too much for) to wish on my part but let's hope the 'City of Destiny' stays in its being, as it is. Touchwood.

Finally, a post-graduate

I understand that it's been a long time coming. I guess it's about time I proclaimed it as loudly as I can. Pursuing a post-graduate degree post engineering was a dream I set up what looks like ages now. After the initial roller-coaster I began to realize that it's not as easy as it looks. Added to this, work and related travel all added to my woes. I must accept that lately it had got to the point to ridicule where everybody began questioning if I would ever complete!

All said and done I must agree that all that 'ridicule' from friends and like was meant to push me on to finish. Well, it looks like it's been decades since I set upon a dream of becoming an MBA. Now I can announce that I am one. It's been a challenge taking work and life outside work (yes, I admit work is still a big part of my life) together with all the preparation for my exams - late-nights as usual and clearing subjects actually. It just isn't the same as when you are in college.

I've increasingly found out that the harder I worked the luckier I got. There were times I didn't read well but managed to scrape in a good paper. God wasn't kind on some of those occasions. There were other when put in some sort of hard work reading for a paper but the paper itself wasn't done too well. I observed that I got lucky in a majority of those cases. Writing non-stop for 3 hours was another challenge. Every 3 months I found myself doing this exercise again and again and wondered about my stamina to do so day in and day out as a kid.

Now, that everything is done and dusted, I must admit that there is that sense of achievement. It would have probably easier for me to drop out in between. My life was getting tougher as were my papers (well, that's not relatively speaking). It makes me happy that I chugged along without giving up. Three cheers to myself :)

Well, this is the loudest I can be - letting the whole world know.

The aura that is Sachin

No, Sachin is not why I got interested in cricket. As a child I thought Gavaskar always batted and Kapil bowled. The rest were just nameless faces I wasn't concerned about. I didn't think much about the intricacies of cricket, neither was I bothered. Nor did his being a little kid when he started representing India bowl me over. I must say that it was somewhere during the tour of Australia in 1992. That was the time I was perhaps feeding on a lot of cricket, almost hoping that India would win the World Cup. That was not to be but that was when Sachin caught my eye. Balance on his feet while batting, as if doing a ballet is amazing. In my opinion this is what makes him stand out even today. The faster Aussie pitches didn't seem to bother him at all. He was already one of the most exciting players in the world.

Almost twenty years later, nothing seems to have changed. He is still scoring runs; plays a lot more shots and is still admired the world over. Commemorating twenty years of Sachin as a cricketer there have been plaudits flowing in; some placing him at the highest pedestal and some criticizing that he could have done better. Everybody is entitled to an opinion and each one of them is right in their own way. But aren't such comparisons unfair to the greatest of talents? Doesn't Math teach us that two variables can be compared only when all other dependant variables are the same? I personally have admired other players of this generation as much as Sachin if not more. I don't quite find it rational to compare. I cannot for example subjectively analyze Ponting for example when he is whacking our bowlers all over especially when I want my team to win. There can never be one greatest batsman if I may put it that way.

One young kid set out to play cricket for India one day. He made us smile, we wept when we did, we listened to him when he asked us to support the team, the coach supposedly confided in him when there was fear of a match being fixed, we missed him when we was not around; let us enjoy the sparkle while he is around. If the recent match in Hyderabad against Australia is anything to go by he will light up a few more arenas before he decides to call it a day. Isn't just that thought worth looking forward to?

Another attempt at blogging

The past few months have been a whirlwind, with so many things happening in life. It's a phase in life which is definitely exciting but something that will keep me on my toes!

I can now declare myself a failure at blogging, though I've started of this piece suggesting another stab at it. I counted on myself being a little more regular in November but it wasn't to be. I do countless posts in my head and like it each time. Words just seem to come in a torrent when I am thinking about writing something. They become mirages when I try to put pen on paper. Just akin to waiting for 'that' masterpiece. Even now, I know I could do this piece much better but I give up. I want to give up thoughts of getting an audience, not entice any comments on my blog and generally start writing for the thrill of it. The glamor of being in the public eye, having lots of readers is far too much to ignore. I end up writing posts for comments; nothing else.

I stumbled upon nablomo recently and ended up thinking why not. I have entered myself to participate in the December month contest not eyeing any prizes, but to at least push myself to write a little more.

Relations

I don’t want to sound profane, but families these days tend to get displaced globally; rendering most of the not so close relations insignificant. Gone are the days when one got used to playing cricket, watching movies together with cousins (and their cousins) during summer vacations. We had fights because of the competition but we usually hung out together only to quickly forget each other at the end of every vacation. Those were times devoid of cell phones and the wait for the next meeting promised much more fun. Cut to present, we don’t have the time or inclination to plan vacations together, we rarely if at all talk by accident. In a sense the spirit doesn’t seem to be the same. We all seem to have resigned to the fact that we aren’t kids anymore. Every single act is measured in the realms of adulthood. Families are so protective of what’s happening with their kids that they can go any lengths to dispel anything that goes against this norm. Competition – not just limited to areas of study or work seems to be the driving force. We pride ourselves on family togetherness but those values increasingly seem to be eroded. This piece isn’t being written to connote the death of a tradition but rather to suggest that future generations have to learn to live with it.

Random rants

Times have been hectic; so much that I have been getting the feeling of losing it. I am currently rediscovering how work can creep into all aspects of one’s life. I go to great lengths to make sure my weekends are devoid of work, only to realize that there’s lots of sleep, movies to catch up with. There’s doesn’t seem to be any time left for hobbies, friends et al. I used to feel weird sending emails; short messages to friends in the city when calling them up would have been the way to go. Yes, ‘used to’ because it’s been happening for a while now. I plan and then re-plan trips, meets with friends but only a meager percentage of them work out. I do understand that this is the case with most of us; how much can we cram in? I’ve been trying to read, write and do sport outside of work with limited success. Travel plans are another activity I love planning. Fact is that they always stay in the realm of planned and never proceed. I’ve attempted starting to read again, and I must admit that there is some joy here. If only I could discipline and coax myself a little more it could open doors to other possibilities. For somebody who wants to take to serious writing, reading shouldn’t be a chore. I must make it more of a habit. Looking elsewhere it doesn’t look to be great time for this world. Most of us are just coming off after hearing news about a typhoon, a rapidly spreading epidemic and security concerns all over. Things don’t seem to be too alluring right now. The rain gods haven’t been effervescent this season and we are told that we are already staring at drought. These were my thoughts when I perched myself on my balcony yesterday night. Almost immediately I saw a shower come down. When it continued today morning as well it seemed to suggest that there’s hope after all.

Where have the sparrows gone?

Remember the sparrow? Once ubiquitous, they have come down to barely fleeting appearances these days. Always chirping away it seemed to be one long monologue when they were around. We had them for company in our house while we grew up. We loved feeding them, and though they wouldn’t venture too close to us they were gracious enough to feed of food we used to provide them.

It was a happy co-existence till the time we felt we grew up and decided to look for greener pastures. Bigger cities, even bigger apartments and more people meant that we don’t have a place for them sparrows anymore. They used the crooks and crevices around human habitations to build their nesting places but unfortunately modern cities don’t provide them that luxury anymore. They probably still are around in villages and smaller towns where finding grain and a place to nest aren’t yet difficult. Sadly, nobody seems to miss them at all. Perhaps we haven’t noticed; perhaps we don’t care or perhaps we just don’t know them well. But, I really miss waking up on lazy weekend morning knowing I need not get to school, ambling to my balcony and being greeted by these wonderfully energetic creatures. I dread the time my kids read about them in books, and ask me about them. I wonder where I will find one to show to them. Ah, what are we turning our planet into!

Finally a weekend sojourn - one long overdue

Warning - Unsually long post ahead. Best avoided :)

Finally, finally, as we promised to ourselves a trip plan to Srisailam worked out. We dragged ourselves out of bed at five in the morning on Saturday wanting to start early and avoid the city traffic as the day wore. Sita and I opted to play the good Samaritans by occupying the last row of our vehicle - that it was an Innova probably helped. Our conversations bordered on realistic to wildly insane. Planning regular weekend activities was an interesting topic, one I would classify as meaningful; using this trip to hunt for a place to setup our golf course was perhaps bordering on insanity.

We drove via the airport. I may sound preposterous but this was my first glimpse of Hyderabad city’s new airport. People had warned us that they weren’t too many places to eat along the way and we were advised to carry some food. By the time we had found a pit stop to have breakfast we were terribly hungry and the place didn’t really matter to us. A few dosas later, armed with some help on directions we were on our way to the Mallela Theertham waterfalls.

The drive was fantastic - acres and acres of land; surprisingly devoid of people. There would appear a few villages in between as if to provide an interlude. These were the only places for us to buy some water or a snack. The waterfall needed a diversion from the Srisailam route we were on; a winding mud road through a village which tested our spines. I couldn’t help notice how many of the houses had Sundirect hoisted on their rooftops; not surprising though. Perhaps it was the only way to access television in the town. The waterfall is reached by climbing down a stair of steps. About 350 in all, it all seemed so easy that were wondered why there were benches laid out midway for people to rest. We realized later that it making our way up was a different matter altogether!

The falls itself were exhilarating. Unmindful of the slippery rocks it looked like people were eager to get drenched. It needed a lot of coaxing from everybody for me to take the plunge though. A very bad fall years ago during such a trip has left my mind permanently scarred. However, I do try to overcome this every time though I might need to be pushed to do it. I don’t regret the fact this time though. After a few initial hesitant steps to feel the mood of the water we finally let go and allowed ourselves to be completely drenched – every nerve, each sinew. The water caught us breathless initially but then it all came back to us in a moment of ecstasy. I was enjoying being thoroughly rinsed when I realized that in my moment of haste I had left my cell phone in my pocket. That ended my fun under the waters because I had to take care of my communication equipment. Thankfully all was well. We sat back for over an hour feeling completely refreshed and recharged, suddenly realizing that we were hungry. A quick bite later we were on our way to Srisailam.

The journey was fascinating. Monkeys emerged from the forests on the road perhaps curious of the doings of human life. The ghat road provided breathtaking views of the dam which sadly was devoid of much water. We reached the temple town late in the afternoon. Munching a sumptuous lunch was our first priority after which we decided to catch a couple of hours rest before visiting the temple. It rained uninterrupted for two hours while we slept. Rain never seemed to relent completely but we decided we should make the visit to the temple on the same day. Walking barefoot towards the temple amongst puddles of water turned out to be pure bliss. The soul and the body seemed to connect with the earth and the feeling was enchanting. We never seem to pursue such things anymore though we yearn for them.

We departed for the night promising to one another that we would start early the next day but our tired limbs had other ideas. It was cold and rainy and seemed like any other Sunday but finally hunger pangs made us get out and get ready.

We took the ropeway down the hill and then a motor boat which was going to give a whirlwind trip down to the dam. It wasn’t as thrilling as some of the one’s I had before (the one at Lake Tahoe still tops, and by miles). The boat trip was breezy. Understandably people were excited. Not that the ride was worth it but because there is something about a trip on water which thrills us. Perhaps some inherent human psychology to not remain grounded – we are thrilled to fly or float. I couldn’t help notice though that the water was very unclean and not inviting at all. We could see the river wind down between mountain slopes towards possibly more interesting avenues (caves, existed there somebody said). But, since we were out of time we had to leave that for later.

Going on the safari during our return was planned and we didn’t want to forgo this plan. The thought of spotting a tiger was thrilling although I wasn’t sure if it would be very exciting if one of those species really decided to confront us. We decided to take the call of the wild though – the thought of a viewing point promised with breathtaking views clinched the deal. There was no tiger though, just a few deer and some peacocks. As we went along I became pretty sure that we wouldn’t see any tigers though. The state of the road seemed to suggest that it was pretty regularly used by people and a tiger wouldn’t really be interested to frequent especially considering their aversion to us humans. My want to witness the royal animal outside the realms of restriction stills remain unsatisfied. I wait for my next chance. The end point of the safari was really the icing on the cake. A view point towards the end of a cliff provided breathtaking views of the Nallamala forest range. The sun played hide and seek with the clouds and one could see the sun rays filtering in from amongst the clouds. The huge trees below looked like clusters of wedges of grass and one could see the shadows of the cloud shifting amongst them, perhaps playing a game of chess of their own. Standing there on the cliff we could feel the breeze beating against my face. We soaked this all in spending a heavenly thirty minutes before turning back to continue our journey.

Though we had lots of sleep to catch up over the next day or two, I realized the importance of taking time out from routine, experiencing the thrill of traveling and catching up with friends. It was perhaps a journey well begun with promises of more.

Beautiful while I sleep

I’ve been thinking about this for a while but have been procrastinating. One of the joys for me towards the end of a day has been observing my wife’s elaborate preparations before she goes to bed. She makes it a point to have a nice relaxed bath and always look nattily dressed. It is as if she has to look like an angel in her dreams. It’s an absolute pleasure watching her go through this routine everyday. Although she’s been trying her best to drive in some of these good habits into me it hasn’t actually worked. I am usually catching up with some personal emails, reading a book or watching the idiot box at the end of the day following which the only thing I can think of is to sleep like a log; whatever state I am in. How I wish – I could be beautiful while I sleep.

Things I'd like to change

I state travel, reading as a hobby; something that I always looked forward to. Work has taken me to a few different places – in India and the USA and it’s been an enriching experience. The last couple of years however have been pretty barren - on both fronts. No major travel conquests to report and I’ve almost stopped my reading habit. I count two books I could barely complete in the last year. A couple of failed plans to Pune and Coorg over the past 6 months haven’t helped matters with weekend sojourns. It looks like a sort of inertia has stuck my being.

Inertia really, because though work takes up a big part of my time, I spent another major chunk of it sleeping! Required I know, but I should stop being a lazy bum and devote a little time to reading and writing. Started reading The Devil Wears Prada last week; also have The Hungry Tide lined up. God knows how many years I will take to finish these two. It makes me sad that I hardly devoted any time at all to reading since school. As good as crime in my parlance and it is something that I want to change in my life. Read a lot more and take to writing. Not sure how good I can be at it but I do not want to lose before I get started.

Better news on the travel front though; we have been able to get things moving. Plans for a weekend trip to Mallela Theertham and Srisailam are half-way there. Knowing how good we are at postponing trips I wouldn’t have committed this here but this time around we have done some accommodation reservations – so it is almost a point of no return for us. Here’s hoping things go according to plan and I can opine a travelogue pretty soon.

To 'tip' or not...

The other day we went to a very famous (and very good) vegetarian restaurant in my city and enjoyed a wholesome meal. It isn't a very expensive restaurant, and the ambience is nothing to die for. In fact there is almost always such a very big crowd in there that it becomes difficult to find a place unless of course you are prepared to wait.

The food though is pretty good and that's a reason I usually end up frequenting the place. Being near my home is a good enough push too.

I paid the bill using my card and decided it's put in a part of my tip in the card to get my bill to a nicely rounded number (Rs 200 sounds better than a Rs 191 for me!). My server confronts me while I do this saying that I was not allowed to tip anything less than 10 rupees. That didn't go down well with me. A customer cannot be told a minimum amount to tip. I pay for the service, ambience and 'IF' I am happy. I later looked at my bill and found out that service charge was included as part of my bill. Now, I make it a point to check my bill before paying; always tip in cash; and never tip at a restaurant charging customers for their service.