Guinea Pig Tale

Continued from Part I It was a leisurely walk for me. I found entertaining company in 20-something former engineers from Hyderabad, who labored to explain to me how train wheels are built, and how they steer differently (I don’t remember why we got onto that topic). After several years of being around arts college students at Xavier’s, or former arts college students at my workplace Star India, I was happy to meet people whose everyday conversations included science. A part of me still wants to be a scientist, but sadly the only current relation between me and science is that my hair is like Einstein’s. Finally, we reached the Har ki Doon valley. I admired the view for a while   –   the Supin river sped past our tent and there were snow-capped mountains in every direction. Far away, a part of the Jaundhar glacier was visible too. Within minutes, the cold had hit. The highest temperature at that altitude was 9°C, dropping to -9°C in the night. At 3500 metres, even ...

Are you a sea person or a mountain person? I was first asked this question sometime in college, and at the time, the answer had been clear to me – I was a staunch sea person. I had been living near the coast all my life, I could tolerate heat much better than people I knew, and I love swimming. Every time an Imtiaz Ali film came out, I would fall in love with the songs in it – with at least one picturised on the hills – and this would make me waver a bit, but never for too long. So it was with some trepidation that I packed and set out for my first ever Himalayan trek, to the Har ki Doon valley in Uttarakhand. The list of things to carry itself seemed intimidating – winter clothes, and more winter clothes. The last time I had been to a really cold place was more than a decade ago, to Dalhousie. I remember little from it – a few stunning views, and lots of motion sickness.  The name's Bond, Ruskin Bond We were to leave from Dehradun by road to Taluka, some 250 kms a...

This is a repost of an older post (from May 2016) that somehow got deleted. You know how every city has those quintessential things associated with it - like crowds, sea and vada pav in Mumbai, beaches and sweating in Chennai, etc. I had a pretty long checklist of things I associated with Delhi and I managed to check off all of them in a single day. The 7 things you can't miss when you're in Delhi are: 1. Get ripped off by an auto-wala  This happens in a lot of cities, I admit, but I had been specifically warned against it before going to Delhi. It happened anyway. I had to go somewhere close and before getting in, I asked the auto-wala, "Minimum fare, na?" and he said yes. It turned out to be a little farther than I expected, but definitely a lot less than 3kms. After I get down, he blithely says, "100 rupaiya hua". The argument ended with me shouting at him about how at least one auto-wala has to fool you once you land in Delhi and how he had had ...

The two cities that I've lived in for 90.9% of my life have been coastal ones - Chennai and Mumbai - so I like to think that there's some seawater running in my veins. There have been many other beaches and much salty air in my life, but Pondy was a special one. The bus from Chennai to Pondicherry took us – me and a couple of friends – through the scenic East Coast Road, and there was enough sighing on my part on seeing the color of the sea. After Bombay's sludgy grey green water, I thought bright blue rather suited the sea. East Coast Road connecting Chennai to Pondicherry The floods in Tamil Nadu had destroyed a key bridge on the route, so it was after a long four hours that we reached Pondicherry. We checked into a charming cottage with a thatched roof, close to the sea. The charm wore off later in the night when we realised we had company – a variety of bugs, and two rats (I named them Pondi and Cherry). On the plus side, the rats and the mosquitoes kept me half a...

"But why are you going alone?" "Arre, but how will you go alone?" "You know what they keep reporting in the papers. You still want to go ?" I had made up mind to take a vacation alone - partly for lack of company on the exact dates I was going, and partly because "solo trip" sounded very exciting. But after being assaulted by all these questions, I was in two minds. The bus was at 7 in the evening, and I could still change my mind and save half the bus ticket cost (the rest would be cancellation charge). Beautiful colors. Yum. My sensible friend who's used to my indecisiveness was telling me, "Toss a coin. When the coin is in the air, you'll know what side you want." At that point, I knew that if I tossed a coin, I would not want to go. But then there's something about doing things that you don't want to do - things that you're afraid of doing. So I took the plunge, and found myself in a rather tatty sleepe...

Achchan noun Malayalam word for father/Dad Pronunciation - The 'cha' is similar to the one in Bachchan. Dear Achcha, I should've written this letter a long time ago. But some things take time... The very last time I spoke to you, I had said, " Ellam sheriyavum" . In Malyalam, it means 'everything will be alright'. Whenever you saw doubt or unhappiness on my face, you would ask me what the matter was. Sometimes I would be forthcoming with an answer, and then you would offer some advice. At other times, I would just shake my head and say "Nothing". Whatever be my answer, you would always say ' Ellam sheriyavum '. And even if the problem wasn't solved, I would find it a little easier to believe that it would indeed be alright. When I saw you in the hospital room that day, I told you that everything would be alright. Because I believed it myself and I wanted you to believe it too. By the time I saw you again, everything wasn...

It was supposed to be a small stopover. 15 minutes at the Sanchi Stupa, and then we would back on track to Jabalpur. But as it often happens, it is the detours we take in trips, and in life that turn out to be the most surprising. It was by chance that we decided to visit the Sanchi Stupa during our road journey from Bhopal to Jabalpur. Our driver mentioned in passing that it was on the way, and so we stopped and bought the tickets. We walked a few meters and there it was - India's largest Buddhist monument. It might sound intimidating when I say it like that, but our sense of wonder was for different reasons. We had reached here early in the morning, just a while after sun rise. Throughout the journey from Bhopal, the rain had been relentless. But just as we reached here, the rain stopped. The stupas here were built on a hill so that the monks could lead a peaceful monastic life. Since it is a World Heritage site, the place has been left untouched by constructi...