TIME AND AGAIN

Time always fascinates me. Time changes constantly. We all know that. We have been told that. In the famous statement “Change is the only constant”, time is the variable. But can we really see that? Think about it. We hardly see time change. All you smarty pants out there, don’t look at your watches immediately! What I meant was that in the hustle and bustle of our lives, we fail to notice all the changes that happen around us. We are subconsciously aware of the changing times but we sort of seamlessly ease in to all these changes that we hardly notice them. Well, I am not being intentionally vague or purposefully confusing here even though you may be cursing me already.

Well, think about it. Time is like the earth or the sun or the millions of heavenly objects. Science has educated us that all these things move. But we have never really seen them do so (unless you are sitting in NASA with a super telescope). Time is like wind. We can feel the change but it eludes our eyes. So years go by and we live life adapting to (and accepting) all the changes that happen around us through the years without really stopping to think and see the extent and magnitude of those changes. And also there is the continuum paradox. Well, don’t worry. This is not a science article. Imagine you keep seeing someone every single day. You wouldn’t notice the subtle changes in their appearance as they are so gradual that they go unnoticed. On the other hand if you are seeing someone say after 5 years you are more likely to see the changes in them.

All right.. all right.. I can see a few polite folks yelling: “So what are you trying to say here?” Well, I will give you the usual answer: Nothing really. If you still want to try and peek into my brain, don’t tell me I didn’t try to warn you. Well, it is one of those random moments where I was just reminiscing the old times and my idle mind started to chronicle all the changes that it has lived through all these years. And it made me part nostalgic and part philosophical. Don’t worry…. Won’t bore you with anything too deep though.

So let us see, what has changed in our lives! Well, for starters, everything! The way of life, the people around you, the landscape, the scenery, the air you breathe, the roads you travel, the food you eat, the things you do and so on and so forth! Nothing has been spared by the winds of time and change.

Be more specific, you say. Okay! In those days, TV was not 24 hours. And it was not 240 channels either. I am sure lot of you would feel nostalgic about Doordarshan. I used to sit watching the Doordarshan symbol spinning and spinning, waiting for programming to begin. Or sometimes there used to be that multi-color bars that covered the TV screen like a rainbow which always fascinated me. And I don’t know if it is just me, but I felt that the programs in those days were better than the ones that air now. But again I digress.

The point is that in those days there were limited numbers of good quality shows (and of different genres) that kept us hooked. I remember waiting for the next Wednesday to watch Byomkesh Bakshi. Sunday mornings were always the most exciting time of the week as we had great shows and cartoons back to back from I think 9 to 12. And those were the only times you could watch these shows. If by chance you miss it, there is no way you can watch it again. There was no re-telecast. There was no internet (probably was inside some genius’ mind). I remember being so bummed when I couldn’t watch a favorite show due to a power cut. I also remember going to a friend who lived a few streets apart (where by some miracle, there was no power cut) and asking him what happened in that day’s episode. I can’t imagine anyone doing these things nowadays. To the next generation, this might even sound outright funny (I can already see Maya making fun of me), but these are bits of nostalgia for me.

There was no Youtube (or multiple music channels) those days and Chitrahaar or Rangoli were the only means for you to catch a new song or reminisce an old classic. And ohhh…. Movies. What can I say? There was so much buzz and anticipation over the release of a new movie. The only way to watch a new movie was in the theater. And we only watched our most favorite actors’ movies (or an absolute classic) in the theater. So it felt like a huge deal. I would always be in countdown mode that whole week. And then there was ice cream, popcorn etc… It felt very special. Nowadays we have the option to watch every other movie in the theater though more often than not, we watch them in our laptops while multitasking a bunch of other things. And a week later, we don’t even remember if we ever watched that movie or not. It is no surprise that I distinctly remember only the movies (the theater I watched them in and several other details) that I watched up until I probably went to college.

Moving on to food. Well, that too has changed a lot. I remember fruit and vegetable vendors making rounds every single morning. I used to love the exercise of going out and picking fresh vegetables. No supermarkets, no genetically modified shiny fruits that look like that they came out of a washing machine, no cutely labelled organic fancy (read expensive) stuff! Just fresh fruits and vegetables right out of neighboring farm lands. And lots of variety too. I know it will be a weird comparison, but if you think about it, even though the number of dishes in restaurants have risen exponentially, the ingredients are actually shrinking. There are vegetables that I no longer see or are very scarce these days. And talk about restaurants and fancy places serving food! Well, I know we have a lot of options these days. But somehow I feel that they just try too much to be different and unique. Don’t get me wrong, they are very good, but I still prefer the older ones which kept it relatively simple but immensely delicious.

Let us switch gears a bit. How about the stark contrast in watching a Bjorn Borg or a Stefan Edberg play to the current crop (barring Federer of course) go on and on in endless marathon rallies like soft skinned cyborgs? How about the fact that in a few years, we could see 1 over cricket matches playing to packed arenas? I can just go on and on but I am sure you don’t want me to. And don’t get me wrong: I am not saying that all this change is bad. By no means! I am just saying that our lives are changing daily at an infinitesimal velocity and ferocity.

And if you think about it, technology is at the forefront of most of the changes that have transpired in our lives. It is what drove us out of the streets and playgrounds into our cellphones and gaming consoles. It is what gave us the option of skipping a get together with friends and to catch up later on Facebook or Whatsapp. It is the one that trumped our urge to catch a movie on the giant screen to watching it on your iPad on the go. It is the one that egged us to tear away from our roots and explore the vast expanses of the earth (and beyond). Well, I guess you get the point here.

There will be a day when we (at least some of us) will be travelling in cars that drive themselves, when robots will clean our dishes and autobots will cook delicacies for us as we watch a movie in our Google glasses while telecommuting to work. And to our delusional mind, all this would seem like life as usual. But to the deep subconscious, if and when it wakes up from a slumber, it would be another of time’s in-numerous illusions that will, like it or not, leave you transformed and transfixed to equal measure. 

HOLDING ON

In our lives, we have several relationships, some we are born with, some we forge, some we fall in love with, some we create, some we stumble upon, some we stumble into and so on and so forth. But almost no relationship is perfect and almost never is it unconditional. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t have to be. In fact, to be fair, it shouldn’t be. Give and take is the basis for all relationships to thrive. People expect things out of you and you have your own set of expectations that you hope (wishfully perhaps) they will live up to. Be it emotional, material, philosophical, physical, metaphysical, psychological, or something else, we all have our mutual needs and compulsions that we impose or have to live up to. The fact that these expectations are the root cause of strain in relationships is a different matter altogether and I don’t intend to get into that. Bottom line, most of us are not saints, and so we cannot give unconditionally.

But rarely, very rarely do a very select few of us experience a relationship that is purely unconditional. Even one sided, I may say. There are people, yes there are, whose minds are very simple and hearts extra-large. All they care about is you and they don’t care how much you love them back. They don’t broadcast their love for you. They hold it in their eyes and it reverberates into our hearts. They look out for us as we march ahead in this world without looking back. They will be your stepping stones, but they won’t tell you that. They make countless sacrifices but take every effort to mask those from your eyes. They live their lives for us and we owe ours to them. Do we realize that in time? Do we celebrate them? Do we love them back? Do we make them feel special? Do we slow down, sit back and enjoy a few moments with them? Do we make them feel it was all worth it, even though they never doubted it? These are questions each of us has to grapple with our own conscience.

I was insanely lucky to have one such person in my life. I was gifted to have you, dad. You didn’t judge me. You didn’t preach to me. You didn’t question me. You never imposed but always inspired me. You willed me to reach for the skies, yet you didn’t resort to false praises or promises. You took no shortcuts in life and made sure I appreciated that. You expected everything of me but yet nothing from me. You never ignored me. You always adored me. And most of all, you believed in me.

You laughed with me and cried for me. You carried me on your shoulders and you watched life through my eyes. You played with me, prayed for me, listened to every silly little story I had, told me the ones I wanted to hear over and over again, pushed me, held me, carried me literally and emotionally, gave me strength, took my pain, fought for me and did countless other things which will remain forever in my mind, heart and tears. You made my world yours and you were my world. You were everything for me. I don’t know if I believe in God or not. You see, I didn’t have to. I had you. Or rather, I have you.

As a school friend of mine exquisitely put it: “You were a part of every frame in the movie of my life, but you settled in a corner, letting me have the limelight.” A subtle yet surreal statement that put your life and mine in a symphonic perspective.

I have seen you when I was a child. And then I saw you as a child. Both were fascinating experiences in their own respect. I laughed in both and cried in one. I cannot forget either. Happiness gives us comfort while pain gives us strength. You taught me life without ever trying to.

I miss hearing your voice every single day. I miss playing tennis with you. I miss watching you play. I miss those laser precision serves that barely hit the line to the dismay of your opponent. I miss laughing with my mom every time you run aggressively towards the ball and clock it to the net and then curse yourself. I miss yapping pointlessly with you. I miss enjoying your silly fights with autowallas. I miss listening to you talk about random things with your trademark wisdom sprinkled all along. I miss the worldly conversations with you. I also miss the silence between us. I miss watching you sew. I miss watching you make love to that 30 year old Remington typewriter. I miss seeing you undress a coconut in record time. I miss sitting behind you on the scooter, hugging your stomach and whispering in your ear every single thing I see on the streets. I miss you sitting behind me in my bike, your hand gently resting on my shoulder and soaking in the sceneries in silence.  

Every time I think of you, a tear makes its way down my cheek as another waits for its turn. I can’t make my peace with the fact that you have left me. I don’t think I can ever. I can’t fathom that you have gone to a place I can’t find. At least not yet. Sometimes I wonder when I will get there. How will you look like? How will I look like? I imagine all the things that we will have to talk. Lots of things to catch up. Do you miss me? I do. I look up at the sky and smile every day hoping that you are looking. Make sure you do. Take care dad. Until we meet again.

My first memory of your loss

THE MYTH OF TIME

Time plays such a crucial part in our lives. We are very aware of time. Or at least we think we are. A lot of people (not me though) are very organized. We seem to have things figured out. We know what to do and when. We know our limitations and strengths. We prioritize. We plan our present and future (sometimes even our past) meticulously and march ahead with guns blazing (I hope, not literally) and confidence brimming. Well, we all face hurdles but let us say we get the better of them more often than not and life is good (as much as it can be). Well, I see a few of you scratching your heads and the others wondering if I will ever get to the point (if there is one). For those yawning, may I suggest some coffee?

Before you start speculating, let me point out that this is not a reflection about the purpose of our lives (though that would make some good fodder material). I hear a few sighs (of relief?!) Today something random occurred which triggered a queer thought. Let me explain. These days, as I hold my daughter in my arms and rock her to sleep, it feels like heaven. Even after she is long asleep, I stand there in front of a mirror with her tucked and wrapped around me and watch her sleep like a doll. Slowly and sadly I realize that this is a short term pleasure that I have to cherish and relish as much as I can before time runs out on me. I will not be able to hold her in my arms (or for that matter hold on to her) forever.

Now this got me thinking. This is just one little trick of time (and its partner in crime, life). There are several such instances where we are tricked into a status quo and we never think about the day when we will no longer be able to do, feel or see something that we have enjoyed, experienced or fascinated by for pretty much our entire life.  Now this is what I was referring to earlier. Time is such a con artist. It is a master illusionist. It makes us feel that we are in control and then all of a sudden, in one sweeping action, it brings us crashing down to reality. I see a few of you are looking at your watch. Don’t worry… I won’t take too much of your time. By the way… did you see time smiling back at you (or was it a smirk?)

We are all in different stages of our life. So some of you may relate to this better (even a lot more than I do) and some may be still be young enough to think that I am spitting out hot “garbage” (you are allowed to use the more stylish and cool French pronunciation here). The thing is there will come a time (or rather a moment and a very defining one) in your life when you will realize that you are no longer able to do something that was second nature to you till that point that you had not even thought about a life without that.

No one likes to be told that you cannot do something. Or more so, that you will not be able to do something. That is like the ultimate insult to our ego. So for a long time, we fight as hard as we can to convince others (and ourselves) that we can. We stretch our body and mind to be our 20 year old self as long as we can. We feel indestructible and incomparable. But then we age, not time. And slowly we start feeling vulnerable. So I felt odd when for the first time, my shoulder hurt after bowling for just one hour. My brain had still not come to terms with another shock. The fact that I had transitioned from a fast bowler to a medium pacer. That realization was reserved for another day. I felt frustrated when I was not able to run around the tennis court as I had done just a year ago. I couldn’t believe I was puffing and panting after just 2 sets. Well, had I known on that day, that exactly a year later, I would say time out after 1 set, I might have felt a little better.

I accompany my parents for their doctor visits. So every time one of them went to our eye doctor, he would ask my mom or dad to read a chart that had letters of decreasing sizes. He would then put in lenses of different powers and they would go again. At that time, there was always a small happiness inside me as I would be able to read every line in that chart (down to the microscopic sized alphabets in the last row). Had I known that one day I will not be able to read the last row (or may be even the ones above it), I am sure I would not have had that little inexplicable moment of glee. 

During my school and college days, I used to remember all my friends’ birthdays and their phone numbers by heart. Nowadays I have outsourced that part of my brain to smart phones and social media (boy that sounds cool, but it ain’t).  May be my RAM can’t handle it anymore and my ROM has reached its capacity. Or maybe I should just eat more ladies' fingers. (Relax peeps, I meant the vegetable).

I still remember my first winter in college. Winter in India is not a common thing and for a guy from South India, it is probably unheard of. I studied in BITS Pilani which is in Rajasthan, popular for its desert and heat. But it gets awfully cold during winter. So there I was, standing in the middle of the road (Courtesy a flat tire) on the coldest day in I guess 20 years, with a t-shirt, jeans and slippers. And strangely it felt amazing. I was shivering but wouldn’t have taken a sweater even if one was available. I was loving it. And that crazy ride that followed after is still etched in my memory as an uber cool adventure (I should probably write about that).

Anyways… fast forward now… winter has become an integral part of my life as I am in Chicago now. But I am not that daredevil anymore. I still love to go out and play in the snow but who knows when I will realize that I can’t do that anymore. That day is not too far off. The only difference is that on that day in Rajasthan, I was a young, happy and ignorant boy who just soaked in an adventure, whereas today I relish it with careful abandon. I know that these times won’t last forever either. Which among these two moments is more precious: well that is a real toughie.

I think I have reached a logical stopping point. By that I mean either you have left by now or you are thinking of pouring that hot coffee on my face. My intention was not to bum people out by writing about sad and high handed philosophical compost. So if I made you rue the last 5 minutes of your life, allow me to finish with a happy thought.

We know we cannot beat time. The realization may come sooner or later or never (that would be ideal in some ways). But the thing is you cannot change anything. So live life to the fullest and enjoy these precious moments. Cherish them as if they will never happen again. Treasure them in your mind and play them over and over through your eyes and heart. They will make you forget everything else and experience bliss. Freeze every moment of your life. May be that is the only way to get the better of time.   

FIRE AND SMOKE

Death, I believe is the ultimate mystery. Life is known, at least for the most part. Death is not, again for the most part. Probably we can feel every other emotion that is out there to be felt. But death lurks in the dark. It is just around the corner all our lives, but we don’t live to see it. Yet it embraces each and every one of us eventually. When it decides to, depends on our luck or the lack of it. But even though we mostly don’t see our death coming or prefer not to think about it, we experience death more than we realize. What we understand from it will differ and will shape our eventual tryst with it.

As I sit there watching you sleep as peacefully as ever, I feel numb. I have lost a sense of time or place. I know I am going somewhere but I don’t feel myself moving. I don’t feel the sun scorching my skin. I have lost every other sense but sight. I see you in front of me, sleeping with a gentle smile across your lips just like any other day. But something is different. Today is not every other day. Although I want it to be more than ever. I don’t recognize the streets I have driven by for the last 35 years. I don’t realize how much time we were there together in that van, seeing each other like it was the first time we set eyes on each other. I don’t remember our first encounter. And you wouldn’t remember our last.

I have never seen you cry. You have never seen me cry. Not for long I guess. I see my entire childhood flash in front of my eyes and the only thing that is constant in every frame is you. I sit there in vacuum as a single tear is resisting gravity in a last ditch attempt to prevent my defeat. All through my life, you have let me win every game we have played. I guess it is about time I lost. The tear agrees.

The lone tear slowly makes its way down my cheek as I sit there still in disbelief. There is a storm of despair stirring inside me as I try hard and resist every single tear it produces. Don’t they say one should cry his heart out? I don’t want to. Every tear is a memory. Your memory. I want to keep it inside me forever. This storm is never going to die. The tears are never going to stop. But I know I will never let you go.

The van stops. I see people around me. Nothing registers. They take you away from me momentarily. I hear voices in my head. I meander in a trance as I find you on a wooden bed. You seem comfortable. I am told to say and do things. I comply mechanically. The thought that I might not see your face again makes its way into my head for the first time. I shudder. I close my eyes. I see your face. It doesn’t exactly look like how you are now. It is not the very first one that I remember as a child either. It is a unique mixture of your face that I grew up watching and adoring all these years. It is your face just for me. I fear no more.

Several years ago, I lost something. My loss was painful, at first. I then got used to it pretty soon. I could never forget it, but I learnt to live with it. Or rather without it. But it took me several years to realize what that did to you. I have always known you to be such a tough guy that I didn’t imagine the extent my loss would affect you. You never told me. But one day I saw it in your eyes. I saw a different man. A man whom you managed to hide well from me. A man more endearing than you already were.  

 Fire and smoke engulf me. Your thought alone consumes me. I come back the next day. You are still there. Well, in pieces. They say you burned all night. I am asked to collect your bones. I want to keep one. I am told not to. Well, I don’t have to worry as you are in my bones. I put your remains in a copper pot and bathe you in milk. I am supposed to give you to Mother Nature. I am not ready to let you go. I reluctantly go to the sea and am about to open the pot when all of a sudden a giant wave comes roaring as she grabs you away from me in a flash. I stand there transfixed having lost your last physical remains. Looks like nature was so eager to have you amidst her. I am sure you will love her company. But I hope you will miss me occasionally and step out from wherever you are to see what I am up to. I will look out for you.  

I come back home. I look into the mirror. I see you. I reminisce of all that has transpired. It was a strange day. You wore my shirt. I wore your dhoti. I burned with you. And you will live with me. Forever!

WEATHERING THE STORM

As I sit gingerly on my wobbly chair which threatens to dismantle at any moment and give me a crash course, I can see the winter’s first snow decorating the trees in virgin white. The sky is soft grey whereas everything else down below is sparkling white. Snow has covered every ounce of space and matter with its crispy flakes except for one autumn tree which somehow is still managing to find a way to showcase its bright orange autumn leaves. I intend to sit here for a while and see how this battle unfolds.

A note of caution to anyone who is brave enough to read my ramblings: The beauty outside is really distracting me and hence my writing might not be very coherent. I hear some of you go: when has it ever been! Anyways… it has been half an hour and the orange tree is still showing off. Wind has come to its aid and is blowing away the snow that is still determined to conquer the last remnant of color. I am still rooting for the tree as a dash of orange in this ocean of white seems so invigorating.

Time seems to stand still as I witness beauty unfold itself in front of me in breath-taking fashion. I start to reflect. Something I haven’t done in a while. The last time I penned down my thoughts was more than two years ago. I wrote a piece about memories and the importance of keeping them alive and sharing them. I made a promise to let the ink in my pen go dry, only to turn around and break that promise.

The snow storm that is unraveling outside my little window reminds me of life itself. Our life is filled with a myriad moments we don’t find time to sit back and relish. So many things happen in so little time and if we don’t take the time to reflect, we lose those moments in the whirlwind of time. It is a shame because a lot of those moments are priceless and we would love to cherish and crystallize them in some form or the other. But we keep running all the time. We don’t know the destination. We don’t know the path we ought to take. And in the end, we don’t even know where we started. We just keep running in the direction of the light, not looking back for once and not being able to see forward in the dark. In reality, we are running so fast that we miss the scenery on the way.

This mad run is reminiscent of my life for the last two years. There have been several magical moments which have filled my heart with unimaginable joy. Life has never been better. But then I have never had the time to relax, sit back and run those memories from my mind through the lens of my eyes on to the projector in my heart, push pause, rewind and play again. It may not seem like a big thing but if you think about it, ten years down the line I might have a hard time recounting these amazing memories. I don’t want them to fade away in the continuum of time. I want to immortalize them through the camera of my mind or the canvas of my pen.

I feel like that lonely tree trying to battle the massive army of snow. It is trying so hard not to lose its color, to stand out and not to be overshadowed like everything else around. It is very similar to our struggles in life. We run around doing things that we are supposed to do but ignore the things that we like to do. We go through the motions in our day, brushing through the little joys that it offers, never really freezing ourselves in the moment to enjoy them. Our days are filled with so many beautiful little specs of joy, but we don’t allow ourselves ample time to treasure them.

As I see the lonely tree still proudly displaying its bright orange, I am filled with a desire to ask more from life and give more to it and those around me. Stillness can help clear the clouds inside our mind and see beauty and greatness in the smallest of things. The snow will clear soon. The tree will still be there and so will be the blood orange leaves. If only we are still there to admire it!

On a completely different note, I got to replace this damn chair.  

FRESH AIR

You may all be wondering what the hell happened to me and where did I disappear? No? At least some of you, I hope! Well, if you are flummoxed and are thinking what the hell is he talking about… then never mind… I will fill you in either ways! About 3 months ago, I had stopped writing! Why? I wish there is an easy answer to it. Well… I wish there there is even an answer to it!

Has this ever happened to you? You have a favorite pen which you are mighty fond of.Not a day goes by for you without writing something with it; no matter how poetic or meaningless it is that you write. But then one day you stop writing and leave the pen alone. You no longer feel like opening your heart to it and sharing your life with it. You ingore it and soon enough you are caught in a quagmire of your own worries and issues that you forget its existence. But then, as all good things that come to an end do, they haunt you! They remind you of what you had once which has ceased to be yours now and suddenly fill your heart with a desperate longing to revert time and go back to them once more. In a mad rush, you run with complete abandon! There it is... where you left it ages ago. Your pulse is high and your heart is racing. You feel it... caress it... a momentary bliss! But wait a minute... something is wrong! The pen is not reciprocating. It is so cold. You can’t feel its pulse. Its ink has dried up. It can’t feel your blood any more. You had left it to die!

This pen could be anything. A thought, an idea, a friend, a hobby, a passion, a loved one! It may even be cocaine but that would be something I am not advising you to go back to! But the point is once you stop something… you will be startled to see how remarkably fast we move on (well... this wouldn’t apply to cocaine either)… how quickly the passion dies… but subconsciously there is an unknown pain and sorrow that keeps haunting you! But you never feel like rekindling that spark. It is a very difficult space to be and it seems so tough to come out of that coma. We start getting comfortable in this new normal only to realize much later that it is not the normal but the ordinary. But in reality, getting out of this vaccuum is pretty easy; all you need is a tiny flash spurred by a touch of madness. That is the conundrum of the paradox but once you realize it, the air around you will feel so fresh and full of life.

The word “memory” when used in “singular” has a mechanical (even robotic) tone to it. You immediately think of a storage device, the computer and so on and so forth. Make it plural, “memories”, everything changes and the word takes on a completely different meaning. There is a human element and a personal touch that get ingrained into it. Your mind screens a little movie of all the beautiful moments that have defined your life and lightened up your time on this earth and you relive those memories with a faint smile in your heart and a bright twinkle in your eyes. Strange isn’t it… how these two words are almost the same but invoke reactions that are light years apart from each other. Now if you are wondering what I am trying to say here, please don’t strain yourself. I myself haven’t a clue! I am writing after a while, so consider it “ring rust”!

 Before you decide that you have had enough, let me try to put some clarity to my random thoughts. At the end of the day… every day… when I look around me… when I look out… when I look in… I see so many things… a million feelings race through my heart…  a  zillion thoughts fill my mind…  so much beauty around… so much pain underneath… I don’t want all of this to just fade away when the sun sets. I don’t want them to be locked in some never to be accessed again “memory” either. These are memories I want to experience again and again, share with all of you, come back to them and laugh and cry and think. So while my pen is still fresh, I have decided to open myself again to its magic! My apologies it took so long!

PAINTING THE SKIES

Dear Friends.. I am sorry for yet another long break. I know.. I have been doing this quite a bit recently. Anyways.. am back with something interesting again! Okay... so tell me friends… What would be your idea for a lazy Sunday afternoon? I see a lot of hands. And I guess there are a lot of refreshing recipes for a relaxing weekend afternoon act. A good heavy meal, is it? It certainly helps if a Saravana Bhavan or a Punjabi dhaba is round the corner. But it will be even more special when a loved one cooks that heavenly meal for you or you make his/her afternoon special by becoming the master chef. Okay… I hear you are on diet. A movie perhaps! Check out the latest blockbuster that is showing in the multiplex nearby. Ahh.. Mixed reviews you say!

Hmmm… How about sitting back on that recliner and checking out anything the idiot box has to offer? Coziness and entertainment all at one place; with a refreshing dash of ginger tea and bliss is yours. Chaos in the living room, huh!! What to watch: Debate on economics or a movie or an Ekta Kapoor soap opera!  Gosh, can’t decide!! Okay okay.. stop that fight for the remote. Let me think of something else. Wait wait… don’t go to sleep! How about a long drive into the woods? What woods you ask? I hear someone yelling “Traffic”! Hmm.. This is getting tougher than I thought. How about a silent and pleasant walk then?  Did someone say cricket? Oh oh…There goes the afternoon for most of you now! I will leave you alone. You guys can fight in peace now!

Well these are all very viable options for lighting up a dull Sunday afternoon which were in my mind too. But the skies had other plans (literally). How is that you ask? Glad you did! It did start out as a dull, peaceful and serene Sunday morning as it went by in slow motion. A little bit of TV, some chit chat and coffee of course made it soothing and relaxing for me, mom and dad. And then it was lunch time as I debated the different options for lunch with mom. We settled on Pav Bhaji as the weather was in perfect synchrony for that and also because mom had never tried her hand at that before. So the chef hat and the apron were on as we went about the task at hand with enthusiasm and panache. And voila… Pav Bhaji was ready. Or so we thought!

But we had one small technical problem: there was no Pav. A quick trip to the grocery store solved that minor obstacle and lunch was upon us. Each one of us gulped down enough Pavs (not to mention the generous stuffing of Bhaji) that our eyes were fading out as we were ready to go into la-la-land. And that is when I just stepped out to the balcony to take a peek at what nature had in store that day. It was a fine day with the right mix of warmth and breeze, color and shade, blue sky embellished by cream clouds, birds chirping, squirrels fooling around (oh btw.. I do have to tell you something about squirrels but that would have to wait), cars (and men) giving Mother Nature a break, trees sveltely grooving to the winds and autumn leaves adorning the sidewalks. This abounding spectacle sent the idea of a nap cart-wheeling out of my mind.

Mom has always been an ardent admirer of nature herself and she joined me in the balcony as we listened to nature’s sweet chimes. And that was when we saw the sky’s white magic. It happened all of a sudden that we were left dumbstruck and pinched each other to ensure it was not a dream. Before you decide (for the umpteenth time) to kill me for holding you hostage with my impending suspense, let me let the cat out of the sky. The reason for our blissful commotion was that letters all of a sudden started appearing in the sky. Yes, you read it right. A magical invisible pen with the help of a precision stencil was etching out letters that were literally appearing out of thin air. We could recognize the letters but the words made no clear sense. And then in a minute or two everything disappeared. Now we were really curious about this mysterious turn of events. The afternoon nap was certainly out and we waited in anticipation of more wizardry from this mysterious wand. In other news, the curiosity bug had infected my dad as he too joined us in the balcony.

About 15 minutes had gone by and we were beginning to lose hope when a déjà vu happened. In another direction, in a different part of the sky, different letters made their appearance one by one to create new words but the one thing that remained the same was the fact that we couldn’t make out what the heck it meant. And then a minute later, it was all gone. Now I started speculating about these seemingly mysterious happenings and quickly made up a few preposterous theories. Was it some evil spirit’s handiwork? Were those writings somehow connected to some holy scripture? Was it warning us of some impending doom? I even thought about trying to research those words and try to find some patterns when my mom said that I was trying too much to be Sherlock Holmes (or Ramanugem rather).

In the meantime, another message had appeared in the sky teasing us with another riddle before fading away surreptitiously. Now we were proposing the theory of an alien attack (come on, we wanted to have some fun) and that over-abused prophecy of the world coming to an end in 2012. Seriously, an alien visit rather an alien attack would surely have been fun. But then, all good things have to come to an end. With some googling and research, I finally traced this to a Ryder cup gimmick. Now what is Ryder cup, you ask. It is a golf tournament between USA and Europe that happens every 2 years.

I know.. Golf is boring. Tell me about that! But this time it provided more fun even if it was unintentional. Apparently Europe made a historic comeback to retain the Ryder Cup. And I guess they had a little help from above. Well, not from that high up as you are thinking, but from at least above 50,000 feet. A European bookie hired a team of sky writers to create pro European tweets high above the country club where the tournament was going on, which by the way is in Chicago close to where I live. But to make them visible so far on the ground though, the planes have to make the writing really big. Each tweet was 400 meters high and 5 miles long and went on to break all skywriting records. That meant even people as far as 20 miles away could clearly see the writings on the sky and we were among the lucky ones.

Well… so ends the story of an intriguing Sunday afternoon. It was no Apocalypse but still a memorable and enthralling experience. For the first time I came to know about this concept called Sky Writing. It is the art of using an aircraft that is capable of expelling smoke, to fly in certain patterns to create writing readable by someone on the ground. Fascinating, isn’t it? Now this message could be anything, meaningful or less, advertisement, celebration or even a birthday wish or a marriage proposal. Now how many of you would want the heavens to broadcast your proposal to that special love of yours! I sure see a lot of hands again. 

AUTUMN LEAVES

Here is something I thought about, that is going to tickle and delight your heart and mind. Oh oh… no.. Don’t get too excited though as I am not going to tell you anything remotely new or ground-breaking. I am sure it is going to be déjà vu for most of you. (But wait wait.. don’t run away. Please read on! :P) Imagine asking your child to draw a tree. Ah.. I see some nostalgic smiles there. Well… what do you do? You give her a nice big sheet of paper, drawing pencils, crayons of different colors and even paint brushes and water colors if she is a pro.

Now I am sure your kid is not new to such an exercise but would nevertheless enjoy another opportunity to unleash her creativity. So the child goes about effortlessly outlining the tree as she has done several times in drawing classes at school. She carves out a broad trunk for the tree, designs the branches generously and then carefully and delicately fills them with leaves. Then she throws in some fruits and may be gets fancy with birds, squirrels and other potential inhabitants too. If she is a stickler for detail, she may even go underground chalking out the roots.

Then what does she do? Well… she turns towards the crayon box or water colors that have been lying there craving for her attention. It is time to add some color in the tree’s life. It is only very fitting as trees add so much color to our lives. She starts with the trunk and works her way up to the leaves. She picks her favorite color green and splatters it all over the leaves. Now she looks at the box: there are so many colors left, she thinks.

So she picks up her favorite maroon and starts pondering. After a bit of debating, she decides to color a few leaves with this new exciting color. She takes a look at it: Not bad, she thinks. The few specks of maroon have added to the beauty of the tree. Now she gets even more creative. She mixes yellow and orange to get the golden tinge. She adds some glitter to the tree by decorating some leaves in gold. She is not yet satisfied. She does some more blending and comes up with some purple, golden brown and dark red leaves as well. Now she looks at her work of art with great bliss. She seems quite pleased.

It is time for some “show-off”. She comes running to you to display her wizardry with the brush. You look at the tree and for a moment you are shocked. You were expecting a “green” tree fresh and full of foliage. Now here is your kid who has sort of made a rainbow out of the tree. But then it strikes you (hopefully; otherwise there is always Wikipedia) that there is a season called autumn, which we had once read about when we were in 1^st or 2^nd standard. Your child has unknowingly but ever so beautifully crystallized a tree that displays “Fall Foliage”. Isn’t that magical? That is why they say: “Children are God’s greatest gift to us”. They can see the purity and splendor of God’s creations better than us.

Now you might be wondering why in the first place I am writing all this. I don’t know either. This week I have been noticing the first glimpses of autumn and the gentle rustling and crumbling of the leaves as they sweep across me made me think about it. The trees around have been slowly but steadily becoming more and more colorful and against a grey sky on a rainy evening, they sure look poetic. And they keep distracting me. There was this simple question as to why all this happens in my mind that has kept me intrigued. By now, most of you would be aware of my intelligence quotient. So after having unsuccessfully raked my brains trying to understand the “Autumn leaf phenomenon”, I sought the help of none other than Professor Eisenkleiftovich! I know you guys would have missed him and his genius. He is busy with his research on “Martian sand” but promised to make a full fledged appearance soon.

So here is an excerpt from what he had to say about “Autumn leaves”. As usual he was a bit philosophical too.

“We always think (such a misplaced thought) that we are the only ones who can think. But it would come as a surprise to many of us to know that even plants have “Intelligence”. First of all, as we know, they not only produce food for themselves, but also for us. And by food for us I meant “Oxygen”. Leaves are nature’s food factories. Well, as you would know, “Photosynthesis” is a phenomenon wherein leaves use sunlight to turn water and carbon dioxide into oxygen and glucose. They keep the “glucose” for themselves and gift us the Oxygen.

Now every factory has a shutdown. As summer draws to a close and autumn comes by, the days become shorter and shorter and the trees know and sense that winter is coming. During winter there won’t be enough sunshine for photosynthesis and hence the trees will shut down and live off of stored food. Now a leaf is green because of chlorophyll and its abundance dominates and masks any other pigments present in the leaf and “Chlorophyll” is the “Photosynthesis” guy. So now since he is not needed, he slowly disappears from the leaves and other guys start showing up. And that’s when we start seeing the yellows, oranges, bright reds and purples. If you want to know more about the science, do visit the references and enlighten yourself.”

So that was Mr.Eisenkleiftovich for you guys giving me some “leaf” gyan. Now it is time for me to signoff on this lovely Friday afternoon as I leave office early to take my parents on an autumn “leaf peeping” tour in the evening.   

And I shall leave you with a lovely poetic welcome to Autumn by a dear fellow blogger Rahul. You can read it here: Welcome Autumn.

P.S: Did I mention to you that after I wrote the article “An Alternate Hypothesis to Einstein’s theory of relativity”, I got a post-card from the man himself! It read: “Nice try, fella!”

References:

http://www.sciencemadesimple.com/leaves.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autumn_leaf_color

WHAT WE ARE

“ZEPHYR” is a name that needs no introduction and “CYBERNAG” is a blog that would fascinate and stimulate you beyond description. She is a brilliant writer who blogs on a variety of pressing yet common place issues that anyone can identify with. And she paints such a vivid picture that everything comes alive in front of your eyes. You will get to live and feel the issue and her thoughts breathe fresh air into our minds. I have not seen anyone write about social issues so comprehensively and insight-fully with a unique and strong perspective. On other occasions, she transcends down the memory lane rekindling nostalgic memories in a way we all relate to and feel related to as they are so relevant in every household. And all along the journey she makes you laugh, cry, smile, reminisce and celebrate along with her.

So I was really thrilled at the opportunity to write a blog post for her. It was indeed a privilege and honor. Thank you very much Zephyr. And what I chose to write about is the simple but magical reason of our existence: two souls who had no idea what they were getting into!

“Life is something that fascinates us in every dimension: physical, spiritual, philosophical and biological. Life may have been created by God or Science and evolved by chance or by design. But our life and the world as we know, is designed by two individuals who meet by chance. They introduce us to the world and they are our world until we develop wings and set out to shape our destinies. We do not see them become the man and woman they are, firsthand, but somewhere between our ears, heart and brain, we know it all. There is an invisible life thread inside us that is interwoven with their fabric that helps us document their lives into us and establishes a psychedelic connect beyond cognition. Their lives are biographies that portray how our lives would have been in a different era. We come to know us as them!”

Read the entire article at: http://cybernag.in/2012/03/what-we-are/

EXPO’ 89

On a new moon day, the usually lugubrious football ground was dazzling like a newly polished jewel. The odd bunch of indifferent school kids kicking a deflated football with the only motive of killing time was replaced by masses of humanity that would outnumber the whole town. And more were expected to turn up from neighboring villages. It was a bizarre and incredible new world of buzz, noise, glare, flair, dust, fest, litter and glitter. No! It was not the football world cup, not even the cricket world cup! It was the annual summer exhibition, fashionably christened as Expo 89 by an enterprising and way ahead of its time Municipal Committee. 

Exhibition! Fair! It was the olden day metaphor to a party! It was one hotchpotch of festivities: an all out attack of light and sound on our faculties. Loudspeakers stationed every few yards were mercilessly assaulting passer-by eardrums filling them with a curious amalgam of advertising promotions and item numbers from the latest flop movies. It was a scorching May and the already hot air was brought up to a simmer by the festoon of multi-colored Goliath bulbs and tube lights taller than humans. The unceasing din of the crowd and its hustle-bustle created a pandemonium beyond parallel. And then there was food!

Eating stalls scattered across the ground in a strange zigzag created a crystal maze that trapped passers-by with its scores of mouth-watering delicacies. Potato and onion bajjis fried in oil, fresh jilebis struggling to jump out of the frying pan straight into your mouth, wafer like appalams and pappadams in delightful shapes and exotic colors sizzling in oil and blossoming like flowers, peas seasoned with raw mango, sodas and colors of all types, idlis named after actresses, ice-creams and kulfis that were supposed to melt in your mouth but did so in your hands! Yet no fair is complete without the pinkish fluffy gossamer-like candy which is bigger than the face and sweeter than sugar. And it has always been a medical miracle to me as to how people gorge on all these and then manage to get on the Giant Wheel!

Ah.. the giant wheel! One simply remarkable invention! It is so huge that you can see it from your house in the adjacent village. But it is menacingly slow as it groans and whimpers its way up to the sky and limps back down as kids gasp at the stars with excitement and elders hold on to the railings and their dear lives.  And then there are trains circling the ground, the odd monkey performing better than movie stars, parrot having a ball telling people their karma, wannabe businessmen trying to sell you all kinds of stuff, horse rides, the lost dog looking for its master, child clinging on tight to her father’s finger, all just to spice up an already fascinatingly eventful day.

An added attraction (really!) was everyday a politician graced the fair and gave away exciting prices and a boring speech. It was the last day and so the Chief Minister was expected. Several fabulous prizes were for the taking; the grand prize was a newly refurbished Lambretta scooter which stood majestically in the center of the ground at an elevated pedestal decorated by flowers, lights and patrolling men. Several lucky folks hit the jackpot and walked away with bonanza prizes ranging from hair pins to pencil sharpeners, candy bars to Tiger brand underwear. It always remained a mystery as to who took the Lambretta home. Nevertheless, the excitement lasted a full year until Expo’ 90 came along. Expo’ 89 was my first fair and its memory is still fresh in my mind. Today somehow these things have fallen out of our favor and are on the verge of extinction. I, for one, wish I could go to such a fair and lose myself once again!   

PATHER PANCHALI

Why do we watch a movie? For different reasons all right! But the most basic reason is that we want to have a good time, relax, enjoy and unwind from a tiring day and the most important element we look for in the movie is entertainment. How often do we watch a movie for the sheer brilliance of the maker and for the splendor of his creation! Which is why, I am very happy that I watched Pather Panchali last week. I had tried watching it a month ago but couldn’t and eventually returned the movie. I am glad it gave me a second chance by getting into my line of sight at the library last week again. Otherwise I would have been deprived of what is considered as one of the greatest films ever made.   

The movie starts with a cute little girl stealing guavas from an orchard (that was once theirs). She then comes home and silently hides it in her grandmother’s basket. The expression in the face of the old lady (who has been neglected by everyone else), when she sees that fruit is one gem that wouldn’t leave your memory soon. And I tell you: Not many movies make me cry. Well, Pather Panchali means “Song of the Road” or “Lament of the Path”. To me it is a beautiful song of a loving family, filled with joy and pain, love and anguish. It is the best human document I have ever seen!

The story is a painful chapter in the lives of an impoverished family living in the decrepit ancestral home in a small village. The father, Harihar, is a simpleton who earns a meager living as a priest and is easily exploited by others. But he is very talented and dreams of being an author of scholarly plays and poems. His wife’s character Sarbajaya, is a beautiful portrayal of a struggling embittered woman who carries the family along, listens to the taunts of her neighbors and perennially worries about their future. You hate her when she asks the old lady to leave the house, but you feel for her when she tells her husband that she also had dreams. Her struggle to make ends meet everyday is a painful tale, remarkably told.

And then there are Durga and Apu. They bring you the smiles. And then the tears! They are the doting and playful brother and sister. They share the simple joys of life, such as sitting quietly under a tree, chasing each other, running through the fields to catch a glimpse of a speeding train, running after the candy man who passes through the village, watching a famous play and viewing pictures in a bioscope shown by a traveling vendor. To me, Pather Panchali is a story of Durga. Her touching relationship with her granny, her playful love and motherly affection towards Apu, her longing to be a woman and her fascination for marriage, her penchant to stealing: all make her a fascinating character that is at the heart of this story. She melts your heart when she covers Apu as they are getting drenched in the rain and says: “Rain rain go away”. And when she eventually dies of fever, storm, incessant rains and lack of medical or financial help, all the pain, suffering and misery that grip the family will engulf you and you will feel a lament deep down in your soul! 

Finally there is the old aunt who seeks refuge in the house. The hardships faced by the old lady in the house will prick your heart. That was the reason I gave up on this movie a month ago. I just couldn’t bear her predicament. The way she is questioned, scolded and ill-treated will melt your heart. It is torturously painful to see her shuttle between the two houses for shelter and food and then eventually die, abandoned, under a tree. The scene where she is asked to leave and she waits with a longing look in her eyes hoping against hope to be called back is just too much to handle. And all this with no drama, exactly how it happens in real life, which is what makes it even more shocking and disturbing.

I can go on but will not. There are several memorable scenes in the movie that will just mesmerize you. They are very simple but have an amazing depth in portraying the ever so complex human emotions and hence are very compelling. They leave you spell bound. The scene towards the end of the movie where Apu finds a necklace that Durga had earlier denied having stolen and throws it into the pond is very deep and intriguing. The soul-stirring music and the brilliantly shot scenes, artistic and realistic at the same time, filled with little nuances of human emotion lend a poetic brilliance and lyrical realism to this movie which in the end ceases to be one. All you see is life unfolding in front of you. The final sight of the family leaving the village in an ox-cart with the sad memory of a lost one in their hearts will stay in your eyes and hearts forever!

1955 - A DIWALI STORY

Everyone of us will have a favorite Diwali memory (or memories). I have one too. I have had a lot of fun-filled and happy Diwali moments but whenever I think of the festival of lights, this particular one is the first thing that comes to my mind: making it a lingering memory that will stay forever in the realms of my mind! But the interesting fact is: it is not my memory. Neither was I a part of it nor did I witness it, in fact I wasn’t even born then. But then a memory, when seen through the eyes and felt through the heart and soul of someone who made you, eventually becomes yours! Doesn’t it?

My mom absolutely loves Diwali and every year during Diwali, I get to see the child in her. It is indeed an endearing sight to watch her enthusiasm and fervor in everything she does right from making delicious sweets and snacks to bursting a 100-wala! Just watching her makes my Diwali so memorable! But this specific memory actually dates back to 1955! Yes, you read it right. This interesting Diwali story comes from the days when my mom was in her 10^th Standard. She is the 3^rd of 11 siblings in what you can imagine is a pretty big family and so the fun of celebrating Diwali is also extra-special. So that year as well the Diwali craze had set in with new clothes, delicious sweets, mouth-watering savories, an excited bunch of crazy kids and loads and loads of crackers to make it super-exciting!

But this time, destiny decided to bring them some agony with just a hint of irony. It so happened that some distant relative in the family expired just a day before Diwali. In case you didn’t know, that would mean that the family does not get to celebrate Diwali (or any other major festival) that year. While the others eventually made peace with it, my mom couldn’t accept the predicament. She was crest-fallen and she sat looking at her new dress and her share of crackers for about 2 hours. There was one particular cracker which was her favorite. I don’t think it is available these days (at least not in the form she describes). The literal translation of its name is: the tank/cannon! It is somewhat in the shape of an army tank with a steel pipe and if you fill the pipe with the flash powder (explosive compound) and slam it against the wall and it makes a loud bang!

The more she looked at the tank, the sadder she became. Then suddenly an idea crossed her mind: “What if I can’t have any fireworks, I can sneak in some flower works”, she thought. My uncle (her brother) agreed to be her partner in crime. So they silently sneaked out, lit up a candle and got the big box of the flash powder. My mom broke a small wooden twig from a tree, dipped its end in the flash powder and brushed it on the candle to create beautiful sparks of gold and green. It was her own ingenious hand-made sparkler! Soon my mom and my uncle were engrossed in their secret Diwali ritual!

They were having so much fun that they didn’t realize the small flame that got to the twig when it was exposed long enough to the candle. Completely unaware, my mom dipped the twig into the big box of flash powder for getting a sparkle once again. But instead what she got was a huge gush of colored fire and light which resembled that of a giant flower pot! And this time there were sound effects too. My mom felt a little burn in her hand but she quickly moved away, thrust her hand between her legs and watched the spectacle that unfolded in front of her with great awe. The fireworks lasted for about a minute and the flames hit the roof of the house. Everyone around witnessed this glorious umbrella of colorful embers. It was like fire drops raining from the sky!

But all good things come to an end. And the magic was over in a flash! The neighbors went back to their business. When my mom and her brother turned around, they saw their parents, faces red with anger, waiting to give these 2 kids the beating of their lives. Just when my mom was wondering what sort of a punishment was in store for her, she felt the unbearable pain in her hand which she had completely forgotten about! She slowly took it out to see that her entire forearm had burnt and her skin had come out completely! Now she realized how much excitement it should have taken to conceal such a writhing pain. She burst out to a huge laughter which finally culminated in tears of unbearable pain. My mom was immediately treated to coolants which included coconut oil, ink, dosa batter etc.. and then all was well after 2 months of treatment! My mom still feels that this saved her from some grave unfathomable punishment and made her the center of attraction in the house for about 2 months and needless to say she enjoyed every bit of the attention! And every time my poor uncle would add that he got her share of beating too on that day!

I have heard this story at least 10 times and every time my eyes witness the fascinating spectacle of the giant sparkler-flower-pot, my hands feel an agonizing pain, my heart feels that infinite excitement and I feel my mysterious presence on that night; which makes it “my memory”!

Wish you all a glorious Diwali; be safe and have a blast!


      -    Dedicated to my dear Mom! 

DELHI TO PILANI IN 24 HOURS

For people who just received the shock of their lives reading the title, let me put you to peace. Rest assured that in 24 hours you can make 2 round trips between Delhi and Pilani (if you are fast enough!). This is just my fond recollection of a mad first winter trip to BITS Pilani that will stay in the memories of a few of us forever just for the sheer overdose of excitement, frustration, anxiety and relief we experienced in a span of 24 hours!

For starters, Pilani is in Rajasthan and is really cold, and I am from Pondicherry where I guess most people might not know what a sweater is! And by the way, it takes 2 days to go from Pondicherry to Pilani. So after a one and half day train journey, we alighted at the Delhi station. We then usually took a car/sumo to Pilani. There came our first surprise. There was intense fog all around and visibility was near zero. And as a result, most of the cars hadn’t returned and we were told that it was a 4 hour wait. We thought: “Okay.. not bad. We are a big group of 15. Let us have some fun!” And we did. For about 8 hours I guess!

Finally at about 8 in the evening, we had our first sigh of relief. And the last I guess! 2 sumos had come back and were ready for us! “We are 15 of us. Where is the third one?”, one of our friends inquired. “Not until another 4 hours”, was the curt reply. We decided that we have had enough fun already. So we believed that we could squeeze in and it was just a matter of 6 hours. So we thought!

“One small problem, Sirji”, said the driver. “What now!”, my friend yelled. The frustration was already creeping in.

“One of the sumos doesn’t have a carrier on top. So we will have to tie the entire luggage on top of the other one”, he said; matter-of-fact-ly! So we loaded everything atop the sumo I was in. Didn’t know this was going to play its part later on!

So after those small hurdles, we were on our way. Momentarily though! It was already pretty dark and we could faintly see the road. But our man was calm and relaxed. Or rather slow and steady. 15 kilometers per hour it was. He had a sound strategy of picking a vehicle and following it. First it was the other sumo, then it was a truck. Soon the truck had lost us and we were following a scooter. Eventually he was fast for us too and there we were behind a lone bicycle man. He gave us good company and direction for a long time and our man was able to match up with his speed until: well no surprises there: Flat tire!

11 0’clock in the night and in the middle of nowhere! Mr.Cool inspected the tire and decided that nothing could be done. He didn’t have a spare tire but he had a plan! “We will sleep for a while inside: someone should come sooner or later for help!” We all looked at each other in disbelief! There was no room even to sit properly and he was already snoring. So we decided to step out and get some fresh air to think this through! It was a bad idea I tell you!  

Not that I was not warned about the winter, but I was a little adventurous. I wanted to see how cold can “cold” be! So I was heavily armed against the biting cold with a T-shirt, jeans and chappals. To make our experience a little more chilling, it was the coldest day in Rajasthan in 2 years. Surely that little statistic didn't help much! There I was in the middle of a sub-zero night, teeth clattering, waiting (hoping) for some help to miraculously arrive! My friends were only a little better off – they had a sweater/jacket on! Well, our prayers were answered in about an hour! 

2 jeeps were gracious enough to stop and they had place for 5 of us! So fitting in 8 of us wasn’t a big deal but: moving the luggage of 15 was! I couldn’t feel my hands for about 15 minutes. We all sat in thinking that the adventure is finally over. Then it slowly dawned that it was an open jeep. Brrrrrrrr…. I sat next to the driver and noticed that there was no wiper. The driver had read my mind. He handed me a towel and asked me to keep wiping the fog on my side of the window. I asked him curiously: “So what about your side?” “Don’t worry, I will do that”, he said. My friend was shaking: “Did he just say don’t worry?”

Then we had the adventure of our life! This guy was driving the jeep at about 55 kilometers per hour, one hand on the steering and the other wiping the front glass window and I swear even after that I couldn’t see anything in the front. I still cannot believe how he drove all the way at that speed with absolutely zero visibility. Either he was a mad man or a genius! I guess both! In just 2 hours we were in Pilani. I didn’t even feel the cold in the mad excitement and rush of blood! The madness was over and I strangely felt a little sad. Why didn’t we meet this guy in Delhi! That was a crazy fun ride I will never forget and I sure could have had more!