Guinea Pig Tale

Growing up in Chennai, I was always a little ashamed to have rice in my school dabba. Some of my classmates at the posh school I went to turned up their noses at the humble sambar -rice and rasam -rice my mother packed for me. I would go back home and tell my mother this and she would tell me that I shouldn’t care about what others thought of what I ate. But peer pressure is a strong force, stronger than a mother’s advice when you’re six. I like to think I didn’t complain too much, but perhaps my mother picked up on my insecurities. To make me happy, she made me food other than rice. My mother, working as a teacher in a school, found the time to make rotis in the morning when she could’ve simply made rice. The rotis and sabji were packed in a steel dabba that had two tiers. That was another thing that made me different from all the kids who got food in shiny plastic dabbas, symbols of liberalization and modernity that my parents disavowed because they believe

I'm from Bombay (now Mumbai) and it can be a pretty extreme city. Traffic, crowds, summers all connive to drive you crazy. Hanoi was like Bombay on steroids. It can be an overwhelming city - the first thing that hits you is the sheer number of bikes and scooters on the streets. Unlike here, all the bikers wear helmets. And thank God for that, because traffic sense isn't really Hanoi's strong point. And then there was the gloomy weather - grey skies and no sun in all the days we were there, plus lots of pollution (many bikers wear pollution masks). And then the hawkers who want to make a quick buck off you knowing that you don't know the language. All that and I still loved it. Hanoi is a tough city, but something about it that draws you in. And it's hard to put a finger on what that is. Is it the long and violent history, which stays with you no matter where you are - be it a museum or pagoda or church? Is it the great food? Maybe the famous ca

“Wait a minute…! What was that?” I know, I know. You’re not supposed to ask logical questions while watching a fantasy like Baahubali 2. I had already accepted that physics and aerodynamics works very differently in Mahishmati. Remember the soldiers who launched themselves from the palm trees and made those formations as if they had all done skydiving courses?  But even apart from the skydiving and acrobatics, there were some obvious questions that came to my mind while watching the story.  So here are some glaring plot holes from Baahubali 2: 1.     Why couldn’t Kattappa just tell Baahubali everything and let him escape? Seriously, just TALK, guys! If Kattappa told Baahubali that he had orders to kill him, he would’ve maybe been intelligent enough to figure out a way to handle the situation? Right? Right? Maybe he would’ve lain low for a while and then found a way to tell Sivagami the truth. Because, come on! It’s Baahubali and ma . Ain’t no more pavitra rishta

It was while researching Vietnam that I first heard of Halong Bay. I instantly fell in love with the pictures I saw of the towering karst formations surrounded by sun-kissed turquoise waters. The Halong Bay I saw was quite different. We had booked a tour through one of the local agencies (slightly overpriced as we later found out; do bargain) which included pick-up from Hanoi, all meals, visiting some attractions in the bay and staying overnight on the boat. The weather in the few days before our trip had been terrible - thunderstorms and rain. It was still cloudy when we left. While making our way from Hanoi to Halong, it was positively gloomy. It stopped raining by the time we reached, but the sun still wasn’t in sight. Naturally, I complained about the weather just like the others who were to join us on the boat. It was after getting onto the boat that I realized I would be seeing a side of Halong which the pictures hadn’t prepared me for. Hạ Long means “de

In the earlier post, I wrote about Gulmarg and its beauty. We had actually gone to Gulmarg to leanr skiing. We were a motley group – ranging literally from ages 5-55. We didn’t get to ski on all 8 days of the course, because of the heavy snowfall. Still, we managed decently well according to our instructors (shout out to Ayaz sir, Shabbir sir and Ishfaq sir!). We got a hang of some basic skills like snow-plow turns, basic swings and uphill swings. On the last day, we had a test where we had to demonstrate what we’d learned. It ended with a slalom race – weaving as fast as possible through poles stuck in the snow. Regardless of what grades we got, the one thing everyone was expert in by the end of the course was – falling. Especially me. I got all kinds covered. Here’s a list (because everyone loves lists, okay?) from most painful to least painful: 1.      Very painful    - Fall while carrying equipment Skis are made of metal and wood, usually. So it’s not pleas