Summer Getaway - Day 1!

Cool as the dewdrops, fresh in the morn

Painted on a canvas of green

Nature’s divine beauty at work

In the ghats, to lonavala – nature’s jade artwork, I’ve been

The month took me places in and around Delhi but the surprise that was in store for me for a week’s getaway to the Western Ghats happened to be something out of a dream. While the railway tickets played spoilsport in the beginning (and later at the end) we did manage to get RAC seats to Mumbai. The train ride of more than twenty one hours turned out to be fun (rather unexpected!). After a rather heavy breakfast as we crossed Faridabad, we settled down to sleep on the berths that the TTE had allotted (his pockets a bit warmer, of course!). The body made good of the rest that it had sought for the past three days, and I felt strangely refreshed when I woke up around noon. The slumber itself hasn’t been a sound one courtesy, a very loud kid nearby who could only think of one thing and that was calling out to his sister who lay on the berth below. Each time I woke, it was to his shouts of “Pari! Pari!”. When I finally raised myself from the berth and peeped through the curtain to enquire who Pari was and why hadn’t she been replying for the past four hours, I found an infant curled up in deep sleep in her mother’s arms! (Well ,what can I say after that?)

Lunch and two movies later mom and I got down to a game of antakshari. It is common knowledge that I am the worst player in this game. My ability to recall songs reaches an absolute zero and it was this prowess which I put up for display again. An hour later with mom being the obvious champion and with nothing better to do we decided to make faces and sing funnily resulting in a quite intense yet hilarious endeavor! The stomach did not complain at dinnertime as we had continuously fed with the junk one normally devours on a train. So, after some discussions as to who would sleep where (I got a lower one, the air conditioning was too cold for my liking) we finally got down to the final task of the day, sleeping.

An early morning call from my uncle was what woke me this time around. We had to get down at Dadar. Packed and ready we waited for an hour before the halt at Dadar. After what seemed like a long time bargaining with the taxi drivers we finally set off for Lonavala. Mumbai is silent and beautiful in the morning (no traffic!) and it was this half awake city that we left behind as we took the famous Mumbai-Pune expressway through the Ghats for our destination. On the winding roads we travelled among the Ghats, through tunnels. It was the perfect beginning I must say (I said it too soon!).It so happened that ‘travelling luck’ wasn’t on our side and the car was heating up pretty quickly forcing us to make frequent stops. My uncle and aunt picked us up from the exit to Lonavala and in no time we were at their home. The ride all along had been a blur.

Taken from the Mumbai Pune Expressway as we pass through the Ghats

One of the many tunnels that we passed through

Out of the intense heat of the north this paradise was a welcome break. I settled down to enjoy the cool breeze that blew in through the living room window. This was heaven. A peek through the windows confirmed that we were in the lap of Mother Nature surrounded by the most beautiful hills, green and lush, dotted with cottages and bungalows.

In this wonderful retreat, what do you expect after a hearty breakfast? Why, a nice sleep of course! Taking no heed of what everyone was up to and leaving all cares to the world, I jumped into bed for a long, peaceful and uninterrupted slumber (call me lazy, I don’t care!)

With not much happening in the afternoon, we decided to go to Tiger Top, a viewing point near Khandala. It definitely had some great views. The pictures say it all. Under the blue sky, surrounded by beautiful hills, now isn’t that the perfect setting? It is, and this is a big reason that many Bollywood scenes have been shot here.

A view from Tiger Top

Steep drop below

Hills and lakes in the surrounding region

Another great view

Just something different

Not picture perfect, I know!

Having that Bhutta  (YUM!)

Just so beautiful!

The night had something special in store for us too. My uncle and aunt took us out for dinner to a roadside dhaba Kinara. The old school village setting and a live ghazal performance set the mood for a very enjoyable night. The ghazals did not let us down and it was quite often that we found ourselves swaying to the gentle rhythm. Some excellent non-vegetarian dishes in that raised wooden hut turned out to be just what was needed. I spent all my time clicking photos and licking my fingers!(I just realized that I was too busy savoring the delicacies and did not pick up my camera during the meal!) The comfortable jhoolas were too much to ignore and we settled on them after the delicious meal.  The enchanting ghazals continued.

Finally giving in to the clock’s gentle reminder that it was eleven we returned but not before having the biggest paan of our lives filled such that I had to take multiple bites to get it all in! 

Mom and me !

Mausaji and Mausiji

The light is solely due to the camera flash we had lanterns (old school style)!

Mom and dad!

The post meal relaxation!

On the Jhoola

Photo time!!

Through the mirror

The paan after two big bites!! (it was HUGE!)

Tired but truly content I went to bed by the living room window as Mother Nature caressed me with her gentle breeze and put me to sleep.

So, ended the first day in paradise!

A thought for food, a restaurant for me!

A few days ago I was studying some electronic devices and happened to chance upon the word MOSFET. Now MOSFET, electronically speaking, is a metal oxide semiconductor field effect transistor (a heavy expansion, right?) and happens to be the most loathsome (yet useful) electronic component that you shall ever come across. This is not what I want to share though (sorry!). The device is of little use to me (presently). It was the acronym that caught my attention. To me (weirdly though) it seemed like the name of a chocolate wafer! Now, let us not jump to conclusions just yet. I am (as a few people suggest) the most sane and sensible of people with a practical mind. You might (or rather definitely) disagree with me here, but hey I do not control the subconscious, especially when the thing in question is FOOD!

My mother says that I don’t eat to live but live to eat! And I am in complete agreement with this observation. The foodie in me cannot resist the thought of his beloved once in a while and it is solely due to this reason that I already have a retirement plan (I’m still a first year undergraduate yes!). I shall open a restaurant (after a world food tour!!)

Yes my very own restaurant!! …..Chez _______ (I am still choosing the name, do suggest some).

In this context I should mention my conversation with N. on the prospect of having my own restaurant. While I was trying to convince N. that MOSFET sounds more like a chocolate wafer than some insensible scientific jargon, I had a brainwave. I decided to fuse the ideas of the engineer in me with those of the foodie and this is what this match churned out:

Aye! This is what the menu of an electrical engineer's restaurant would look like (certainly not a disaster!). It is a long way from what it will be 40 odd years from now, but this definitely is a start. (the excitement gets to you, doesn't it?). 

So, in the future if you need a really 'electrically' delicious meal, drop by and I can guarantee that you shall leave 'charged' and content! 

And to the foodie in you I say  Bon Appetit! 

Ode to Nainital

A crescent shaped jewel, precious!

with a jealous guard -seven strong 

Envious as smooth caresses , little boats

sail on thy mirrored form

Graceful , lead by thee in this serenity

Wearing caps of snow or bare heads glistening

I hand nature a new identity, of magic

unspoken; the allure of thy ring

Glitter as diamonds on a lady,beautiful

A calmness spreads to hold me still

All actions cease, I enter a world;

A life, I live divine, in these seven hills

The Unnamed Poem

This was written some time back. After constant motivation, I decided to give other poetic genres a try. This is again another experiment in poetry. I hope it is satisfactory for the audience. However, I shall beg mercy for not being able to name this venture.Hope it is good.

Long as the shadows grow,

A ragged figure crouches down

Oft I have seen him bend and break

A pile of papers for a bed, dirt his crown.

A smile so infectious, he waves,

Yet the kid scoots, searching eyes hidden away.

Disgusted, seems the baker across,

Locking the wares, a closure to his day.

The banker invades the old man’s land,

Treads the insignificant with calm and ease.

The smile undying, still ; Pass as you will,

He never complains, but joyfully shares a piece.

Secrets spill out , he pulls out a wrapper

A forager’s victory , his eyes shine bright

Contentment in each morsel, the counted few

I see ,as I draw my curtains close for the night.

To be a 'Bookworm'

It has been some time since I actually heard the term 'bookworm'.
As I ate through the pages of Jeffery Archer's Only Time Will Tell last night, the memories of my boarding school years resurfaced in my mind.I was reminded of the hours that I had spent in the library, the classroom and the dormitory reading.

A portion of my bookshelf! (presently)

                                             
I was introduced to the wonderful world of books in Grade 4. The first library lesson is still clear in my mid (for completely different reasons though). It was Enid Blyton's works that got me started. I was hooked to the Mystery series and later the Famous Five. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes followed. The great detective with his remarkable perception and deduction never failed to excite me.
Harry Potter - the most popular character of my generation was as famous in my school from the very start. I had heard the seniors discuss the books and some of my classmates had even read the first two parts of the series. It so happened that I did not have anything to read one day and was in search for some fodder to feed my brain. This was when somebody lent me Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and that was the day that my magical journey began. Now attending a school that is quite similar to Hogwarts with its more than a 140 year old history, houses , boarding and other stuff can play with your mind a lot and it was more than often that I ended up comparing Harry's world to mine.
As time passed I was attracted to the more literary of writings with the popular classics occupying most of my time in my first year in the senior wing (Dixon Wing). I read Shakespeare and was not impressed or influenced enough to consider him to stand at the very top of the literary pyramid.Charles Dickens was in my opinion for some years the best. I loved The Christmas Carol, but I hated and still do hate Great Expectations by him.
In Grade 7 we had a lesson in our textbook titled 'Uncle Podger Hangs a Picture'  by Jerome K. Jerome. It is a hilarious story of a man's trying efforts to hang a picture on the wall and how the entire family in due course comes to be involved in this endeavor. During the book fair that year I purchased the text from which the story had been taken and to this day  Three Men in a Boat remains my favorite book. I have read it countless times and know the plot by heart and yet every time I read it, the words never fail to make me laugh.
With time 27/RH became more visible on the borrow receipt pasted on the back of the book in the library at school. By the time I reached Grade 8 most of the books sitting on the shelves of the books meant for juniors were familiar to me. While a person could borrow a book for fourteen days from the library, I borrowed 14 books in 14 days! The librarian was left clueless as to how I manage to complete a book each day and when he confronted me wanting to know whether I actually read the words or just borrowed for fun I simply said " I read them Sir." but he was never convinced I guess.There were days when I used to reach the library as soon as I had changed after lunch and would sit till the library was shut at 5 in the evening. I completed the Tintin series, Asterix and Obelix and each Phantom comicbook that the library possessed.I had found a passion that was only rivaled by my love for Indian classical music and most of my time was spent shuttling between these two.
During visits, I made a monthly pilgrimage to Narains, a bookstore in town and would often spend close to an hour selecting a book of my choice. I loved to browse through the immense variety of writings that were on display.Be it fiction, classics, non fiction,cookery books , books on photography, animals , I was never bored as I pulled out books at random and scanned their contents often disturbing entire piles of books! I usually bought a book or two each time. I remember buying Anne Frank's A Diary of a Young Girl from the shop. This was one book that pushed me in the direction of biographies and to date I have read life accounts of people like Gandhi, Hitler, Napoleon, Castro and Ben Franklin.
It was compulsory to attend college matches and cheer for the team at our school. Yet, many a times I bunked these matches and spent these hours in the library or any other place where I could be alone with a book.Sadly, these times were rare and the prefects found me out almost every time and I was sent to the stadium steps.
Those five years (from Grade4 up to Grade 8) were my 'bookworm years' as I devoured book after book, completed the series, the sagas, the trilogies etc. I had wandered into this unknown with little of what to expect and now when I recall it I can definitely say that this was what enriched my thought, my writing and my speech. Today, when I pick up a novel every month or so, I can still picture myself seated at the library deeply immersed in the story immune to the worldly happenings as I myself lived in another realm.

Lift yourself above the world, open its folds and enter a realm beyond your imagination. Its significance a mere speck in your vast understanding but beware, as it speaks so shall form your words, as it works, so shall your heart be...for it is what you shall live as under its wing...... this , to the bookworm I say!

Each time it feels like new!

If someone has gone through the posts that precede this (I guess you have, they are only a handful) you must have come across the one where I have commented on my poetry skills in every manner possible (in The Poet that Wasn't) .Well, after a long break (this should not invite comments) I have written a small piece. This time trying a completely different genre, so please be soft on the critique.

On the dedication,well, its for you to figure out! (the easiest part of the poem!!!)

In a moment I’m caught

Between words and pictures, lost

A year to this day, each day lived

Not bored or rhythmic

For, each time it feels like new

Each call, every letter from you

I long for that voice

Yet that fortnight seems clear

The first , I recollect, the last year  

For, each time it feels like new

And meetings unplanned, a rush before

Seeking a glimpse, a smile too

A year now, the truth I speak

Each time it seems like heaven

And, each time it feels like new 

Three flutes, loads of air and a beginner!

Seems a pretty straightforward title doesn't it? The story of the efforts of a normal guy on a flute and the interesting parts in between ...blah blah blah . The title's quite revealing right? In fact, why read further? So what (you might say) I had the same experience when I was trying to learn the piano or the bagpipes or the violin (piano is the most common one), In fact, mine was better , much better - an incident that is fit to get 10 million views on youtube had I the sense to press the record button on the camcorder that I had so foolishly placed on the table! It was hilarious (you insist) and it went like this ....... After you have narrated the whole incident to me  twice (Yes sir!! you repeated that chicken soup part and even enacted it the second time!) .You deny. I mime your act.You look subdued (I am a horrible mime!!) and say that it is time that I divulge my tale and not waste any more of your time.(##@%$^& I mutter!!) . Well, here it is then.......
I am still not certain as to why I had decided that I would learn how to play the flute.I have always (to the best of my knowledge) been a santoor player. I was introduced to the santoor nine years back and have since then played the same. It is not that I am bored . I still love the sound of the wood striking the string. Here is a picture of a santoor for those who are still trying to figure out what it actually is (see I knew it!)

So, back to where we were now....my logical insights a.k.a the inner eye tells me that the reason I have decided to undertake the task of learning the flute is based on my personal discomfort at the failure of never having been able to play any wind or reed instrument. I feel its time that this problem was handled in a proper manner.
I have duly shared my desire (note it wasn't and still is not a 'burning' desire) with friends, parents , casual acquaintances and every second passer-by. Some of them have tried to talk me out of it (the people who know me better) and this has strengthened my resolve (I say no to their every yes and yes to well, all NOs) , some even supported me. One of my friends has even gifted me a flute that is not of conventional origin (read  un-Indian).

The next logical step for me would be to find a suitable tutor. I have successfully completed the 'find' and have failed on the 'tutor' part. Whenever I think of this, I picture my mother saying "गुरु बिन ज्ञान नहीं ...." (  English : No knowledge without a teacher)to which I have always retaliated with the story of Eklavya (One of the most inspiring tales in Indian culture!) and so following the footsteps of Eklavya have declared Youtube my tutor ( technologically advanced... I know!!) . I would be doing injustice if I do not mention the contribution of my uncle here , for, if someday , some scribe decides to pen my life and make millions out of doing so, it would only be just if people remembered my Uncle and said that "He was the one who stoked the fire..." It was my Uncle who taught me the first basic steps to hold the flute (stress on basic) and the fact that we live far apart and meet once in a year means that I'll learn the ascension and descent of notes next June !! My patience forbids me to wait so long and hence here I am , an Eklavya in my own right.

Confident that I could hold a flute right and blow I went and purchased a flute. My first efforts at getting it to 'blow' music were horrible and still remain just passable. I ran out of breath by the time I came down three notes on the scale and had to wait for a at least 10-seconds before I could start again. I went  sa... ni... dha.. breath over!! (  I said it aloud! ). My mom teases me with the fact that since I cannot even whistle ( Yes I cannot ...so what?) it will be next to impossible to get that controlled flow of breath for the flute. (I shall even learn how to whistle now). Yet, I have persisted with my efforts. Twice , I have gone up and down the  sargam  in the past thirteen days. I mostly give up on the fifth note now (five is better than three) .I run out of breath easily.It is tough. I blow, and blow really hard ,but all I hear is air swishing through the hollow tube.I adjust and re-adjust , focus and re-focus and yet fail to produce a good sound for half and hour and when I finally get the orientation right, I am out of breath again!!

The Thai flute (the unconventional one) looks easier but is still a bigger mystery to me. 

I had yet to conquer these two when my Aunt (hearing of my so-called 'zealous' efforts)gifted me the Indonesian variant ( A south-east Asian flute collection...Yippee!!) . Now I have three. Three different instruments to learn - three different worlds to conquer.Even Eklavya couldn't have managed archery , sword-fighting and spear-throwing all at once! 

Look at them three , mocking me together.Knowing that I stand helpless now and that they shall be the toughest instruments I have faced so far.

I on my part shall continue to strive to try and master these three little warriors of the music world.I promise them that no matter if I fall short of breath , or come to my wits' end trying to grasp the technique soon I shall conquer and they shall submit! "Corruetis, et dominabitur"