Rajasthan- A period romance

Looking at the title, one might wonder if this is a soppy romance saga of a princess and her unrequited love or one of a proscriptive love and its various hardships in tumultuous times. Thankfully it's none of that. I have neither the experience nor the patience and if I may say so, the penmanship to write one. My very limited writing skills go only so far, as to let me write about my various experiences. This is one such about my recent holiday to Rajasthan. Doesn't sound very romantic now, does it? Well I set out on the holiday with pretty much the same idea; Rajasthan-Camels, sand and some desolate forts. I have never been happier to have been proved this wrong. The love affair if I may say so, started off as a sublime interest that has grown into a flown blown flame for this amazing land and its varied culture. There is something about this place that just draws you in. And once you are in; you are in hook, line and sinker. On the outset, it might not seem much, just like any other place in India but Rajasthan has quite a few tricks up its many sleeves. Let's start with Jaipur, the capital. The city is much the same as any other city in India with its narrow roads, population growing faster than the infrastructure development, you get the idea. This is where the similarities stop. While the prices in all these places are insane and targeted at the international tourist, the rest of it is still very Indian. The city is clearly marked out in old and new city, the old residing inside the traditional four gates and yes, most of the city is actually pink. But this is not something that one would not expect. The actual surprise, lies at a little distance away from the main city, set upon a small hillock. It's the ancient city of Amer, now called the Amber fort. The fort rises majestically like a typical Rajput royal residence on the hill. The facade is designed beautifully with its many towers and the serpentine fortification wall. The courtyard that one arrives at through the arch known as 'Suraj Pol' or the Sun gate is wide and was used to assemble the army. On the other end of the courtyard is the Moon gate opening to the west and was used in the days gone by to welcome guests of the kingdom. A staircase from this courtyard opens up to another courtyard that houses a pillared hall, which was the king's meeting hall in the by gone era. This is also the entry point into the main area of the fort. The passages leading into the inner areas of the fort are narrow and all the steps on their stairs twice the size of a normal step with lattice work windows being the only source of light and aeration. The sheer size of each step and the breadth of the passage makes me wonder if there was a purpose to this. It was either to take enemy down if they ever broke in or that was their weight loss and fitness strategy. High stairs- You have to have some semblance of fitness to climb a step that high and narrow passageways- U can't get fat and not get stuck in their. I think it is mostly the latter than the former. These narrow passages open up to what is aptly called the "Sheesh Mahal", owing to the thousands of mirrors that have been affixed to the wall and ceiling of this structure. The mirrors used still reflect images perfectly despite having been made centuries earlier. They are laid out in various patterns across the 3 walls of this structure. The fourth wall has rooms not open for visitors but one can see through the door, the delicate colored glass designs set in the wall. One such is an image of Krishna and the gopis, the glass still sparkling despite being in a closed dark room, the only source of light being the closed glass doors which believe me, doesn't let in much light. Around this structure are the "Hamams" something akin to the Turkish baths. The queens had their own marbled bath tubs sunk about 3-4 feet into the ground. The guides outside the fort, when they are trying to get you to hire them tell you about how they will show you the queen's marvelous jacuzzi, making it sound really fancy. It is but this sunken tub that they talk about, which unlike the ones in modern times needed water to be poured in and then taken out manually. Yea, that's right! No indoor plumbing you see. Nevertheless, you have to give them credit for making the most with what they had. For example, during the harsh Rajasthan summers, the surrounding Aravali ranges blow in hot air making the indoor royalty pretty uncomfortable. To fix this, the king came up with an indoor cooling system using a high rise water tank and mats made of Vetiver, commonly known as Khus. A simple concept really, the high rise tank had a slope through which the water flowed and was captured with mats of Vetiver. The air when it blew through these mats carried the moisture and voila! We have Natural AC. And it doesn't stop at this. For the royalty in their twilight years, there are ramps all across the fort, where they were wheeled around in their wheelchair. The wheelchair isn't much now and looks pretty rudimentary but I guess it served the purpose back then. But the Queen's quarters in the fort seem pretty tiny, just about the size of a 10X10 room today. Not a lot of room, but then when you have so many queens for a king, I think the king wouldn't have been bothered too much with giving them bigger rooms than with giving rooms to just all of them. Sad but then there isn't much a queen can do or is there? Let's leave that to one such queen who'll come along later in Udaipur. But before we jump cities, let’s head to Bikaner and its fort- Junagarh that unlike all other forts in Rajasthan is set on the plain rather than a hill. The fort looks simple but elegant from the outside with its numerous balconies and windows and the intricate carvings that seem typical to Rajasthan. But once inside, what strikes one is the flapping of several wings and cooing of several pigeons but not one in sight. That’s when you raise your eyes skyward and are surprised to find a fine metal mesh spread across the entire fort. This was put in place when the fort was built to keep the pigeons out but a few rogue ones do manage to get in the same way humans do when we come in through heavy metal chains hung just about at every doorway in this fort. The fort by itself is much the same in idea as the one in Jaipur with its room of mirrors and armory. But the paintings here inside the fort are much well preserved without too many signs of them fading away. What is unusual is the king’s bed that is still kept here as a part of the exhibits. The bed is only about 4 feet long and the legs are less than half a foot tall (my measurements may be slightly off, but it is indeed a tiny bed). As our very loud guide explained, there was a reason to this design of the bed. Some king (I don’t remember which one, forgive me) was murdered in his sleep when the assassin hid under his bed and used an opportune moment in the middle of the night. That explains the height, but what of the length you ask. This is so that, if anyone does tie the king up to the cot, his feet and probably part of his legs would still dangle off the bed due to the short length and the king could then just lift himself off the floor while still being tied to the cot and either fight or make his escape. Smart idea but we don’t know if that situation ever presented itself to test it out. But I wonder if having to sleep so uncomfortably every night did make him surly and cranky. They don’t give out those kinds of details and since my exceptionally slow brain comes up with these questions only in hind sight, I have no way of knowing. There is another slightly strange story about a custom still followed amongst the royal family. It so happened, that a queen escaped with her young son and sought refuge in this kingdom. The king granted this but when he realized that the lady was not a commoner but one of blueblood, he took her under his wing as his sister and raised the boy to be trained in all the arts of warfare. I won’t get into the details but this boy when he turned an adult, on the instigation of a few ministers killed the king during Diwali. He then went ahead and killed these same ministers, as he believed that since they never were loyal to their own king, they never would be loyal to him. To commemorate this ghastly act of having killed his guardian, he wore black to celebrate the festival of lights. To this day, his descendants in the royal family wear black or navy blue during Diwali. Some family tradition! As you start moving among the various exhibits, a very funny looking spoon catches your eye. It’s a normal looking spoon but of course made of silver. Yes, their silverware was actual silver. But then, u notice a strange looking piece of silver sheet on top of this spoon. The story goes, this belonged to a king (oh so, obvious) who was very fond of his moustache. This was his soup spoon and he had it designed so that, there would be a piece of silver sheet covering the top exactly where his moustache would touch the spoon. This was done to keep the soup from touching his beloved facial hair and presented no difficulty either in drinking the soup. Two birds with one stone! I will not go into the details of the armory but I have hardly even seen so many varieties of weapons in one place. One hunting gun needs a special mention here. It’s easily over 10 feet long and the king carried it all by himself when out hunting. I don’t know what animal needed shooting with such a long gun. Royalty and their quirks. While we traversed across Rajasthan from Jaipur to Bikaner, we did not fail to notice the steady of fall of temperature. To say our room in Bikaner was freezing would be an understatement. But nothing could have prepared us for our next destination Jaisalmer. The vegetation kept changing gradually, the soil slowly kept giving way to sandy patches and thorny bushes typical to a desert but it was the coarse and granular sand that we kept encountering and not the desert sand. To see that, we would need to head to the outskirts of Jaisalmer even before getting there. We took a detour before entering the city that took us steadily west, closer to the Thar and further beyond, the border of India and Pakistan. A little distance off on this road, many desert resorts start popping up on either side of the road. They offer camel rides, dune bashing, overnight stay in the tents, midnight desert safari, some folk dances, the works. I chose to ride a camel till the desert and then go dune bashing in the Thar Jeep and then watch the sun set over the desert. I haven’t been so apprehensive about sitting on a camel before. It didn’t help with the stories I had heard of people falling off of these animals and injuring themselves and the poor beast. I almost fell off the camel when it started standing up on its ungainly legs. I would have toppled over and broken the animal’s neck, not just then but later when the camel owner made it trot and run. I have no idea why he did that, seeing as I did not even having anything to have a decent grip on the animal’s back. Maybe he simply got his kicks out by freaking people out for a few minutes. I was lucky that it was only my over active imagination at work and I actually did neither fall off nor harm the camel. But I digress, there is more to be told here than my “suddenly freaky, suddenly amazing and back to ‘Oh please I don’t wanna die so young’”, camel ride. Having never seen a desert before, I was excited to say the least. The gently rolling dunes rise proudly out of the ground just a hill would. I would have believed if someone told me there is magic in this sand here. It was love at first sight. Whatever came after that, only enhanced the experience- Be it the crazy dune bashing in the 4 wheel drive, the numerous deer and peacocks that kept frolicking around, the lonely fox out in the open for a few seconds before running into deeper shrubbery, the numerous camels with their rides over some dunes or the beautiful sun set where the sun just stops being visible a little over the horizon but how you never see it set completely and yet the evening darkens faster than ever. Its enthralling, spellbinding and so much more. But it’s biting and ruthlessly cold once the sun sets. The temperatures suddenly nose dive but its beauty doesn’t diminish one bit due to this. It only adds to the charm allure of the desert. This far out in the wilderness is another beauty that most city folks miss out on- the brilliant night sky. Call me a hopeless romantic (read night sky lover) if you will, but few things really take my breath away the way a moonless dark night does in the middle of nowhere. I never knew that there were so many hundred stars between and around the constellations Orion and the Canis Major. The sky was the darkest shade of black I had ever seen and the stars were on a luminance contest. It was only the most perfect end to the amazing day, but what took that even one, no make that ten steps further was the amazing room heater waiting for us back at the hotel. For the very first time, I was appreciating the warmth of a nonliving thing more than the love and warmth I had ever received from my friends and family. The desert chill does that you. You will appreciate warm broth and a warm bed more than ever. But Jaisalmer has more than just the desert on offer. Called the golden city, due to the fort and the various structures made out of yellow sandstone stone mined here, Jaisalmer used to lie on the old Silk route. This was a hub for silver jewelry and a point for people to rest before heading out into the desert towards Pakistan and then Afghanistan. But post-Independence, due to the borders between India and Pakistan and the not so cordial relationship, Jaisalmer slowly started turning into a ghost town as most folks left the city to seek work outside. But about 40 years ago, efforts were made to revive this into a tourist spot, which paid off. The city is still known for its famed silver jewelry market but also for its Havelis and the fort. The Jaisalmer fort is unusual in its shape in being triangular and hence also called a triangular fort. It’s unique in not having any mortar used for construction but instead has interlocked stones to hold the entire fort together. It’s a UNESCO world heritage site and also a living fort. Several generations of the current families have been residing in the fort ever since they were given place to stay by one of the kings. Families have stayed for centuries, set up shops, hotels, restaurants all within the walls of the fort. By this I don’t mean they have constructed anything new. Far from it, they still reside in the same fort complex as it was built but maybe with new renovations on the inside. Inside the fort are a few Jain temples that are plain on the outside but show amazing carving skills of the artisans on the inside. This was done to keep the temples safe from the Mughal plunderers, who would destroy a Hindu place of worship had they seen any carvings on the outer walls. The carvings of the deities and the maidens, the floral patterns, the intricate arches are so well etched that one can’t but, stop and be amazed at this example of the some of the most wonderful heritage of this country. The carving skills don’t just stop there. The city is replete with examples of this but never more than at its numerous Havelis. The Havelis are made out of the same yellow sandstone as the fort but the front walls are inlaid with beautiful lattice work windows, balconies with intricate designs and numerous pillars. I couldn’t help but be wowed by the amazing art that was done centuries ago with only manual tools, that the modern tools don’t even come close to accomplishing. Who knew a flower carved out of stone could look just as or more beautiful than the one that blooms in a garden. It was time now for us to head to the blue city of Jodhpur and see its Mehrangarh fort. The fort is imposing in its size, made out of red sandstone that is mined here in the city. The view from top of the fort gives one an idea as to why this place is called the blue city. Spread across the city, are hundreds of houses painted in blue thus giving Jodhpur its name. After having seen so many forts, there really isn’t much different in its layout or design. But the sheer size of the fort and the thick walls enclosing the fort makes it an intimidating sight nevertheless. What struck me the most here was the number of guides, conversing so well in various European languages with hardly any accent. Their English sounded rusty but not their German or French. I had hardly even imagined meeting local tour guides who had such flair for European languages. It seemed, like Rajasthan the Rajasthanis also had a few tricks up their sleeve. En route to Udaipur our last destination, was Ranakpur. This is a massive Jain temple complex carved completely out of marble and has exquisitely carved pillars numbering over 1444, no two of which are similar. The temple is dedicated to all the Jain Tirthankaras starting from the very first Tirthankara Adinath. Despite being filled with tourists from various places, the quiet and silence at the temple is surprising. The beautiful Skillman ship quiets not just the ever wagging tongue but the ever impatient mind. Nestled in the lap of the Aravalis, the only sound one can hear other than the random quiet murmur of voices is the soft chime of the bells moving in the mountain breeze, set atop the various turrets of the temple. One can’t help but feel harmonized from within in this setting of quietude. But no matter how good it felt, it was time to make a move and head to the Lake city Udaipur. Famous for its several manmade lakes, the city has some interesting sights- be it the royal family’s vintage car collection or the city palace or the garden of maidens called ‘Sahelion ki Badi’. This Garden of Maidens was built by one of the kings of Udaipur to pacify and woo his wife back after a marital quarrel. History says, the queen had friends from the lower caste whose visits to the palace didn’t really please the king. Typically Indian, wouldn’t you say. Now when the King forbade these friends of the queen from visiting the palace, it did not sit very well with our queen. She packed her bags and went back home (we still see this quite often, don’t we). Now it took the king 6 months to realize his folly. So in a bid to apologize to her, he had a garden built with fountains that worked with no electricity. For this, he had an artificial lake constructed called the Fateh Sagar lake at an elevation and had pipelines carry this water down to the garden. Now since the lake is at a much higher elevation, than the garden, the fountains need to electricity to spout the water out due to the pressure. He then gifted this place to his queen, so that she could meet her friends here and then return back to the palace solving both their problems. If this doesn’t get the expectations of today’s wives up, I don’t know what will. The last stop was the majestic Udaipur palace, which is divided into the royal residence, the museum and the hotels. The palace has the beautiful lake Pichola at the back with the Taj Lake Palace set in its center. This hotel, used to be the royal family’s summer palace but has now been leased out to the Taj group. A beautiful view of this can be caught from the palace which is the grandest palace in all of Rajasthan and the second grandest in India. The royal family still resides in a section of the palace and belongs to the lineage of Maharana Pratap Singh. The palace is grand in its architecture and beauty but the grandeur of the history of this family through the ages, more so that of the Maharana overshadows everything. A lifelong battle to reclaim their fort at Chittorgarh and final move of capital to Udaipur, which to this day lies with the royal family as was told to them by their guru, one can feel the stories in their very bones on the tour of this palace. Paintings depicting the bravery of the Sisodia clan, the Maharana’s strength and bravery, his never ending love for his homeland of Chittorgarh, the family’s strong stand against the Mughals and the later British Empire are all epitomized in the various paintings. History does come alive here. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret for not having seen such glorious times myself but glad of this opportunity to have learnt so much. As time drew near to board the flight back home, I was still caught in the magic of this amazing land. That India has a rich history is a given. But having experienced a great part of such history, almost having relived it in the various tales of the locals, I feel proud to be a part of this rich tradition. If this holiday did nothing else, it did make me realize how amazed and awed I am by this country’s history and also the eye to appreciate art. For the very first time, it was time to head home but my heart wasn’t in it. Rajasthan bowled me over with its forts, palaces, desert, migratory Siberian cranes in the remote village of Kheenchan, the locals feeding and protecting these birds, the locals worshiping a Royal Enfield and the local artisans with their art being carried through the centuries, handed down from father to son, mother to daughter. I knew just these 8 days weren't enough and so, I left a promise to myself that I would be back to relive this magical experience again. I don’t know when that will happen, but I only hope that it's soon, if ever. And so, the period romance saga continues!

ILE MAURICE: A Lone wolf's travel

Seeing as this was going to be my first travel by air and one to a new land altogether all alone, I should have been pretty excited and bouncing off the walls (well, at least that’s how I thought I would be acting when I would fly for the first time). But my thoughts and actions were anything but that. It was as if I was on just another casual holiday to my hometown. Well no, that would be wrong; my holidays back home are anything but casual and nothing less of supreme excitement for me. But coming back to what I am talking about, I took my first flight pretty coolly, well as coolly as I could after finding out about where the check in counter would be, to what should I do if I don’t find the flight terminal on time. I’ll admit, I felt like the village idiot at the moment asking anyone and everyone who has ever flown for proper airport directions, much to the amusement of my family. It was like I told my aunt; it’s not so much the new country but getting there that has me flustered. Once my feet would be back on Terra firma I would be just fine I kept telling everyone, even if it meant I did not know the place or local language. So there I was in the plane wondering what on earth is so amazing about flying! For one, I could not see a thing out, thanks to Nilam (the recent hurricane/cyclone in Bay of Bengal). All of Bangalore was terribly overcast and the resulting turbulence made me feel like I was in a Volvo on a road in bad need of repairs and resurfacing. No big deal I told myself, just that I am paying much more for lesser agony- the jerkiness at a height of 10 km rather than on the ground. I must tell you, I was seriously disappointed with being up in the air. And was I wrong. With most of my first leg of the journey done and the flight landing in Mumbai, I chanced a look outside and was I in for a surprise! Owing to the clear skies in Mumbai, the visibility for me was really good. The whole place was lit up like a Christmas tree, bright and glowing. What initially looked like a row of street lights slowly came into better focus to reveal moving vehicles across a bridge built over water. I no longer felt I was on a rough patch of road; I was almost gleeful like a kid, taking in the sight before me. The next flight should be definitely better I told myself, seeing as I would be flying over water for most part. So with those thoughts in mind, I checked in at the international terminal with about 3-4 dozens of senior citizens. It was then I realized that the major population of older generation was actually over 60 or nearly 70 and actually heading to my destination, Mauritius- a honeymooner’s paradise. It was a very unusual mix of people, a Vicenarian like me; all by me, and a bunch of Sexagenarian & Septuagenarian heading to a very unusual place for all of us. While I was amused and a little worried as to what would happen if all us were on the same tour during our stay there, I couldn’t help but think how cute all of them looked together, jabbering away in Marathi and being less fussy than I during the wait to board the flight. Soon but not soon enough, it was time to board the flight and here I was a little annoyed at these people taking advantage of their age and pushing all the youngsters out of the queue, while we could only smile politely and let them do that. Once we were all seated and fed and watered, I turned my attention to the in-flight entertainment. Once again feeling like the village idiot as I was unable to figure out how to change the channel, I just drifted off to sleep. And after what felt like a bare few minutes, I was gently roused by the stewardess offering me my morning breakfast, which left a lot to be desired. It was almost past 8 in my watch, which was set to IST and meant that it was almost 7 in my time zone. It somehow seemed a lot brighter outside, through the slit of the window blinds. Once we were asked to lift the shades up, I did so bleary eyed not really realizing what I was looking at. And then at that moment, all that forgotten excitement came rushing back as I realized that what I thought was just endless blue sky was in fact that and the Indian Ocean in all its blue glory. It had the deep blue color of a blue sapphire and I could simply not take my eyes off of it. And when the wandering clouds did drift across, it only added to the beauty. They looked fluffy enough to be cotton and solid enough to be stepped on in places and so wispy in others that you could see through their hazy constitution, all the while being able to see the silhouette of the plane wing on it. As we lost height, I could spot cruise yachts, fishing boats and an occasional speed boat with a place in the ocean where the surf kept breaking, looking frothy and looking like some kind of a clear demarcation line. And as the land came up in view, I could not help but marvel at the beauty of Mother Nature. While the island looked all soaked up in sandy robe basking in the sun’s warm morning glow; the other side looked incredibly green with rolling hills alongside. After we landed, I could not help but think just how much it looked like India. The board welcoming all the passengers said ‘Welcome to Paradise’ and I again thought, yes it looks just like my paradise: Gulbarga. It was uncanny with the sun’s warmth, typical black soil, more or less same vegetation. And I was suddenly home sick. I came face to face with the glaring realization that I was to spend 5 days all by myself with not even a single known soul. Being the stubborn mule that I am, I pushed that home sickness and loneliness aside and braved the ride to the resort all by myself. While others had people to jabber to, I had to comfort myself with the thought that I would get to know at least a few of them over the course of the day. And it so happened, that I was to stay at a lovely little resort, packed away at the north of the island and catered to by some lovely and friendly staff. That did lift my spirits up a bit but the loneliness simply refused to go away. I had my lunch and thought of taking a walk by the beach, next to the resort. The beach was over crowded, that day being a public holiday in Mauritius and if anything, the noise there, contrary to lifting my spirits, only sank them further. As I trudged back to the resort and turned the TV on to entertain myself, I realized that the resort played only 12 channels, out of which 11 are French and 1 in Hindi, the Hindi one playing long forgotten movies. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back and in that terrible mood of melancholy, I put myself to sleep. The nap did me some good, the lingering fatigue of the travel was gone as was a little of the home sickness. I brought my stubborn mule back to forefront and made a few calls home, took a stroll, met my travel agent and just spent my time to await the end of a seemingly endless day. The next day dawned bright and beautiful; I must mention here that, it was bright outside at 5 AM in the morning, something that I had never seen before. My spirits and mood matched the weather outside and I was looking forward to a full day tour of the south Mauritius. Breakfast done and wait for the tour bus had me meeting an older Indian couple from Ahmedabad and another younger couple from Shillong. They like others seemed surprised that an Indian girl was out on a holiday all by herself in a country she has never been to before. I did my best to control my ego that seemed to be inflating by the minute while they admired my ‘bravery’. I had to remind myself that I had done nothing noteworthy that claimed that I was brave in whichever sense. But with the ice broken and tour started we headed out to a natural volcanic crater created by the now extinct volcano that created Mauritius. It was slightly impressive but not to a great extent, seeing that it was not very deep and was completely dry as it was just the beginning of summer there. It had a very nice view of the surrounding mountains though and since the sky was starting to get a little overcast, the clouds near the hills made for a lovely sight. It was next on to a waterfall formed again partly due to volcanic activity but it was hardly a trickle owing again to the summer. Next on to was a place called Ganga Talao/ Grand Bassin. This place is considered holy by all the Hindus staying in Mauritius. On route we find a huge statue of Shiva that scales 108 feet and is the second tallest in the world, the first being a statue in Gurgaon. Stories have it, that an Indian gentleman carried the waters of the holy Ganges from India and poured it into this lake three times, thus almost bringing it to the same religious status as the Ganges. Every year on Mahashivratri, Hindus observing the fast come all the way to this place to take the water from here to break their fast. It has a small temple with many Hindu deities and the sanctum sanctorum dedicated to a Shiva Lingam. From here it was onto the ship factory, a place that specializes in recreating miniature versions of some of the most famous shipping vessels ever to have made voyages. It has the Normandie, Titanic, Amerigo Vespucci among many others recreated in varying shapes, some just inches across to some almost 3-5 feet in length. While all this was interesting, what I was really looking forward to was the village of Chamarel. The village gets its name from a French family that owned the area. The area is very well known for its seven colored earth and rightly called ‘The seven colored earth of Chamarel’. There is a small area that is cordoned off to the public that contains this seven colored earth. Rumor has it, that the seven colored sands were created by, any guesses? Yes, surprise, surprise, by the same Mr. Volcanic activity. The iron content in this soil is so high that nothing ever grows here. It has sand in hues of red, brown, violet, green, blue, purple and yellow. It was one thing that bested my imagination. Spread across in various shades, it looked as it some had spilt their paint palette while in the process of painting a scenery. From there on we proceeded to Black River Gorges. Apparently it’s not a black colored river, but gets its names from the initial mass of Africans that had predominantly settled in that area thus earning it the name black river. A little racist if you ask me, but back then when Africans were being used as slaves, it would not have been any different. But what it does have is a beautiful view of the water from on top of the hill and the expanse of water below with its little dotting of islands, brings a nice closure to the end of the tour of south Mauritius. Next day dawned even brighter and hotter than the previous day. I was pleased to see that not a cloud was in sight, for it was a trip to Ile Aux Cerfs Island today. This is mostly the high light of the tour of Mauritius seeing as it has all the water sport activities happening on this island. We first proceeded to a beach from where we were to be taken a distance into the water and then we would begin our first water activity, undersea walk. After hopping onto to a speed boat, we practically shot over the surface of the water as we made our way to another boat about 200 meters out into the sea. The spray from the sea as we rode in the boat was welcoming under the heat of the sun. Once onto the boat, we were instructed on how it would be under water and basic underwater signs. The contraption that they use is pretty simple when compared to a scuba diving suit. It’s a simple metal helmet that has an oxygen line connected to the boat. Working on simple laws of physics, air is filled in it and it is lowered over your head, as a diver pulls you down into the water. Since there is oxygen in it already, water does not enter your helmet and the continuous inflow of oxygen helps you breathing comfortably. The weight belts keep you down and prevent you from floating right back to the surface. When it was my turn to get into the water, did I actually realize just how cold the water was! It almost gave me goose bumps and on instinct of getting inside the water I held my breath. The feel and quite inside the water was just beyond words. My ears popped a bit, the way they do during a flight probably due to change in the pressure but at a depth of just 10 feet, it was not anything uncomfortable. Once on the sea bed, the other diver instructed me to walk slowly forward and to keep looking sideways at the corals around. Walk slowly I did, cause there was no way on earth I could even think of moving fast. I always thought walking in a pool was difficult until I walked on the sea bed. It was as if I was trying to learn to walk all over again. I had to inhale to make myself slightly ever lighter and put a foot forward by a few centimeters. But the experience was simply astounding. The peace, quiet and solitude down there amongst the brown coral and the zebra fish swimming past was right out of a dream. I had never imagined walking could be so much fun, of course it was walking on a sea bed, but it’s walking nonetheless. And before I knew, our 10 minutes under the sea were up and we were all hoisted up into the boat and to proceed to the Island of Ile Aux Cerfs. The island has public access restricted to only about 30% of the total area. The remaining 70% is a private holding. Once on the island, as I was a lone wolf amongst the honeymooners, I decided to go ahead and finish my para-sailing  I had been really looking forward to it, to feeling weightless and drifting across the sky. Para sailing in Mauritius takes place from a raft anchored a little away from the beach. The take-off and landing both happen from this platform. Apparently not wanting to risk sending me up alone into the sky, the instructor was sent along to handle the parachute. I was bothered in the least; he could take care of the landing and adjusting the strings while I enjoyed the view and the ride. The take-off was nothing like I had expected no butterflies in the stomach kind of a feeling. It was so smooth I might probably not even have noticed it had I not felt the wind buffeting me around. As we gained height I could clearly see the variation in the color of the water and the area where surf kept breaking forming a frothy line as I had seen from the plane. My instructor went on to explain that the forth was being caused due to underwater corals which formed a barrier and hence waves broke over it. The water looked different shades because from the corals till the beach the water was a mere 3-5 meters deep but immediately after a sudden drop of 100 meters and hence the deep blue shade, this also being the area where the predators would be. While my brain processed all that info, I was elsewhere enjoying the feel of the breeze, the feel of nothingness and just being there. It was almost nothing existed high up there as I was barely able to hear a sound; it was a mute picture playing out in front of me. Slowly the parachute lost height and then as we dipped into the water almost getting drenched, we gained height and cruised along up there for a while more before landing back onto the platform. Then it was time for another speed boat ride around the island, this one at a speed even greater than before, almost throwing the boat’s occupants of the boat. It was nothing short of thrilling in other words. That was how the second day of the tour and a fun day at Ile Aux Cerfs came to an end. The last day of the tour I was sun burnt, all thanks to the water fun the previous day. I was obnoxious enough to think that since I came from the land of burning sun, the Mauritian sun could do me no harm. Boy was I proved wrong. The sun apparently there doesn’t care if you never got sun burned in Gulbarga; it shows you no mercy there. But since the last day was not much out door, it was ok. We first went to the city of Port Louis and to the local fort there built by the British to protect themselves against attacks. For a fort, it sure is small and barely has enough area to have considerable living quarters or barracks for soldiers. It has a few cannons placed at strategic locations and if not much has a nice view of the harbor. Placed alongside the fort at a lower elevation is the world’s second oldest race course, first one being in England. From there we move onto an open air catholic church that is one of its kinds. It is out in the open at the base of a hill and operates only on Sundays, when it’s closed to the public. From there on, it is Caudan Waterfront next, the biggest shopping area in Port Louis. It’s built right by the Oceanside and offers an amazing view of the ocean and the various yacht and catamarans anchored by. It is also a good place to pick souvenirs and get some shopping done; this would bring out the bargaining skills in many a people. It is also the only place in Mauritius where sugarcane juice is sold, as all the juice of sugarcane is used in making sugar, which is one of the main exports of this country. Lots of food joints are clustered around the open ocean and some promotional activities keep taking place much like in the malls here. The fresh breeze from the ocean and the view sets a perfect mood for either day dreaming or contemplation, whichever is your favorite. While the day draws to a close, its one last stop at Bagatell mall that is quite like any other mall but offers on sale the locally brewed Rum made from molasses of the sugarcane. And then it’s a wrap of the tour of Mauritius and back to the resort. As the next day dawns bright and lovely, and bags are packed, I can’t but think how I have come to see this small Island as something very familiar and close to home. The hospitality of the resort put me at so much ease and made the stay there so much more wonderful, almost as if it was home. As I board the plane, though I am glad to be coming back home, I know that this multicultural land will hold a special place in my heart for days to come and I hope to tell its story, at least the little that I have heard to my people in my land.

Kya har ek friend zaroori hota hai?

Are we now questioning the tagline of AirTel cellular service? I would not say that it is exactly that, but it’s more of a thought in retrospect after reading the line. Do we really need every kind of friend or how important is it really to have all kinds of friend in life. It all depends on how we really see a friend or the impact that their presence makes in our life. Each individual that comes into our life brings a certain amount of influence from their own lives. As they say variety is the spice of life. There are a few who can drive you up against the wall, with their non-stop pestering, chattering and questioning. There simply is no way to get them quiet, unless of course you start talking in much louder voice than the one being used by them in the situation. But more oft than not, this just fuels their enthusiasm to continue their conversation and before you know it, it’s them doing all the talking and you just end up doing what you wanted to avoid in the first place. Listening to a strong one-sided conversation! And try as you might, you simply won’t get them to shut up! So you just let them ramble on while you sit there pretending to listen while silently groaning inward! Then, there are those who rarely use the power of speech to communicate. All they require is a nod, a gesture and few words thrown in between to keep the conversation (their version of a conversation, that is) going. You are left wondering, ‘What on earth can get them into an animated conversation’? While the former clan of people can teach us how not to lose enthusiasm and to voice our opinions strongly, the latter can show us how to be good listeners. There are some who go all out recklessly and do things, living life on the edge, with the ‘Devil may care’ attitude, where as there are yet others who plan things so meticulously that you know these are people who consult a to-do list for their day to day activities. There are still some who have a sense of equanimity in their actions. They are usually the balancing factor amongst a group of friends. They keep the high fliers a little grounded, let them be a little reckless but in a measure, where when things start going out of control, they can always reel them back in. Though sometimes they might be left thinking ‘I am so going to regret this!’ when the high flyers get them into some adventurous/risky situation but mostly come out feeling exhilarated after having that adventure and feeling more alive. Probably because of this,they can then again, be the coaxers to the tedious planners, helping them take things lightly, making them a part of impromptu plans so as to enable them to unwind and not be stiff about situations or as we say these days, ‘Go with the flow’. Some appear to only keep taking risks and make endless mistakes with their decisions but that never deters them from trying new things. This never give-up attitude despite all the follies of theirs can, at times be increasingly frustrating and annoying to others, especially those who rescue them time and again, from the pits that they have managed to stumble into yet another time. They, through their ‘not-so-well thought out plan’ and the following repercussions teach us to be more careful and wary of situations, people and risk taking in life, in general. But this same set of people can be that little ray of sunshine and hope when there is nothing but gloom around and try as one might, there seems no end to the long dark night. Their undying hope of ‘a light at the end of the tunnel’ serves to help as much as cause trouble when left unbridled. But then don’t we all need some mistakes to learn and probably have a nice laugh a few years down the line. When there is such variety, fun and learning along the way (read as life), then why hold back or for that matter even question it? Each friend comes along adding his own spice to it, making the perfect broth. And this broth unlike the famous saying is never spoilt with too many cooks. In fact here, it’s always ‘The more the merrier’

Remember?

What do I write? I ask myself yet again! There simply seems nothing to be written in specific when you want to pen something! Ah! Like always, ideas come up to me when I least expect them to!!! The power-cut happened yet again!
 Well no, I am not  cribbing  about the power-cut but the apparent lack of concern about it! Most of us enjoying the gifts of modern technology have an inverter in place to make life so much easier for us. 
  No power the city moans! We have no care we say, we got inverter in place. While this is certainly a wonderful thing, specially when it comes to not spending the night in the humid/hot weather or tolerating those pesky blood sucking mosquitoes that somehow manage to sneak inside the house no matter what time of the evening you close the doors and windows and have all the mosquito repellant in place!
 But amidst all this I miss those days when inverters where unheard of! No, I was not born in the early 20th century, thank you so much. Inverters were practically unheard of in so recently as late 1990s. The only thing that saved you in terrible summers during a power cut were the generators! And those while on the bright side, did brighten up your home, surely gave a headache to the rest of the neighborhood with it deafening noise!
  While not all of us had the luxury of even owning a generator, we made do with what we could! Bring out those long thin candles and light them up, and if you were in the mood, start the shadow play! One pair of hands turns into a shadowy croc while the other enacts a dog and yet another a bird in flight! And to beat the heat, our faithful newspapers always doubled up as hand held fans! When was the last time any of us got to do that? I cannot really recall except for last week when our inverter conked out!
 This really was a time of the evening when the family got the real family time! No TVs, no radios, no noise, just chatter! And if you were lucky and the whole city was in a blackout you could just glimpse that wondrous night sky, in all it's glory, of course if the full moon was on a monthly vacation. And as we sat gazing, you could hear distant sounds of a hand held radio/transistor tuned to the local aakashwani station, playing those songs that you did not even know existed and made your parents/grandparents reminiscence fondly! And you always wondered, man...just how old are these guys! They listen to such deadbeat music! Of course those would not happen to be our exact words/thoughts, but then you get the idea.
 Are those days lost forever? Or are they just lying in wait for us to just sit up and take notice? That it's just a matter of knowing where to look for and just how simple it can be. Turn those lights off and start the bonfire..oops sorry I mean candle light. Wow for someone who just a few minutes ago did not know what to write, I have written an awful lot!!! No wonder it's the same when I get started about not having much to talk and end up talking more than those guys who actually have some stuff to say! Typical ME! :)

What is it with these guys?

Funny how I am writing this on International Women’s Day. I happened to be talking to a friend and invariably moved onto the topic of his latest passion. No, it’s not a girl, but photography. More aptly it would be his camera. He owns an absolutely Wow SLR camera (for all I know it could be just a regular camera for all those photography enthusiasts, but for one as uneducated as me in those matters, it sure seemed WOW) and seems to have been in love with it since first sight.
That intrigued me and I was reminded of having read in a Clive Cussler novel about how men have this uncanny ability to love inanimate things and how women can never understand that. And the woman in the conversation said something that somehow made sense. She says “We women can never really understand how men can love inanimate objects. Women can never really love things that don’t love them back”.
That line really made me think. Men and women certainly belong to the same genus-species but the similarity ends there. I have seen or heard about enthusiasts or collectors and needless to say a majority of that crowd is somehow male. So what is it with men and their gadget love? I mean it could be a musical instrument or car or gadget and yeah, let’s not forget bikes! These guys would willingly give up human company to spend time with their so called ‘Love’!
I have rarely seen a woman obsess this way unless of course it comes to shopping (and a hundred and one things that figure in our shopping list). But this is certainly not the kind of obsessive love that men display. A woman can only truly love only that which can express its love back. Selfish you say? I don’t really think so. She just loves being loved and appreciated. So maybe, even pets top her list but not always an object.
This seems to be quite an opposite behavior with men, who seem to have this amazing ability to be able to love things, that can’t love them back. A guy will chase his interest with a great fervor and as time passes, the obsession instead of waning, only grows by leaps and bounds.
Or is it like the new Honda BRIO ad claims, ‘Love your BRIO, it loves you back’? Men just love their toys and somehow feel loved but not bound to them by having to talk to them/ praise their good looks/ appreciate them. This probably must be the reason why they are more comfortable around the inanimate objects! Those objects simply don’t keep talking for no reason and never even stop or give them a chance to make their point! And it’s just the same reason that women can’t be in love with objects, that can’t talk back to them. Looks like we are all wired differently when it comes to these things, each person having his/her own quirks. It’s probably why, this world ceases to be monotonous and gives that much needed spice to the many aspects of everyone’s life.

Sleepwalk Through Life

It is often seen that once we reach a certain age group, our dreams and glorious plans get lost in our quest to fulfill our ‘Priorities’ in our life.
In retrospect of the last two years (exactly 2yrs ago was when I joined this industry, our Corporate world as we call it) I see that I have been no different. Plans of being an Astrophysicist and studying the night sky in all its glory suddenly seemed like a dream I had suddenly woken up from. Just as we brush off the dreams of the night in the quest to live out our lives every day, I just pushed the thought of wanting to be an astrophysicist out of my head for reasons unknown. I joined the brigade of the umpteen engineers being churned out of universities every year who began the race to land a job in the corporate world with a 5-digit monthly pay package.
The degree of confusion then (when I had just entered the corporate sector) and now seems to be the same regarding where I want ‘To Go’ from where I am ‘Right now’. Where would you like to see yourself in the next 5 yrs asks my manager and I just manage to give some inconsequential answer. See myself as a lead or a manager?!! What then!? An even bigger pay package and the same confusion!? Knowing not where I want to go…Don’t get me wrong here, I am not complaining about my unhappiness at work or criticizing people who are in the same areas of work as I am. I like the kind of work I do, enjoy the atmosphere at work but yet, there is that nagging question at the back of my mind, ‘Where am I going?’
I talk here of my life in its entirety and not just the work aspect of it. Is there not a lot more to life than just being stuck in that regular rut? Is my focus in life and my priorities set right? Or am I like millions, like my dad says, ‘Just Sleepwalking through life’? Not knowing where I am heading, but heading there nevertheless for maybe a few materialistic gains? What would actually define my life? A few hundred thousand in my account, a better job, a job which I dreamt of taking up as a kid or a teenager, happy and contented parents-happy that their daughter is making something of her life, finding someone who would accompany you on this journey called life!? Why then, despite having all that stated above do I wonder what am I doing after all? What is it that I really want from my life? What is that one thing or things that will make me exclaim ‘Yes, this is what I want from life’!
This is probably a question no one can answer for me. It’s my quest and my journey to make, to find the answer if it’s possible. There is no way of knowing if the answer to the question would really have been the ‘Dream jobs’ or if it is the kind of work am doing right now or the kind of life that I have right now. I am a firm believer in the old saying that ‘Life always gives you only the best things’, be it good or not so good experiences that make you the person that you are today. But one thing, despite my belief is certain- I do not want to Sleepwalk through my life.

No one's innocent, there are only different degrees of responsibility

Recently, I happened to start reading the Millennium trilogy by Stieg Larsson. The second part called 'The Girl who played with Fire' had an interesting caption. Well not so much a caption, as an extract from the book. It said- 'No one is innocent, there are only different degrees of responsibility'.
At first look it sounded as though the writer was making a claim that there really are no innocents in this world & almost everyone at one point or the other has committed a crime. That really did not seem appealing.
But as I thought over the statement, it did strike me as being true. Not in the sense that I had understood it before but in a totally different light. Yes, the writer was correct to an extent in making that claim. When it actually comes down to analyse actions committed by various individuals, then it becomes difficult to measure them all using a single yard stick.
When, for an instance we consider a civilian v/s a person in armed forces, we cannot and do not condemn an armed force officer when he shoots some one down acting according to his role i.e. to protect the society, but when the same civilian takes up arms, its a different story altogether. This all comes down to the fact that both these groups of people have different responsibilities. It is just that an ordinary man i.e our aam aadmi, does not take up the responsibility that he's not accountable for those actions. So in other words, he only seems innocent because he does not hold that responsibility.
How then can we justify this statement when we talk bout the violence in the society? The miscreants who take up arms, take law into their hands and to what end? To start a vicious circle of violence to which there seems to be no end. This is in no way, taking up responsibility but defying the rules of society and misuse of what could have been responsibility to do something good for the society.