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Memories of childhood..

I am a very nostalgic person(I dont know whether “nostalgic” can be used to adjectivize a person, but you know what I am, aye?). Slight smells, faint traces of music, seemingly insignificant incidents are all enough to trigger a bout of nostalgia in me.

The smell of ‘Pavizhamally’

Remind me of my aunt. I have never seen pavizhamally flowers around her house, but the smell is definitely there. Reminds me of the long fun-filled days I enjoyed there.

The smell of dry shrubs

Reminds me of school and summer vacations. Our school is surrounded by a reserved forest land on three sides, and the smell used to waft into the classrooms on quiet stifling summer days, just before school closed for the summer.

‘The buzz of the forest’

Reminds me of the small trips our teachers used to take us out into the forest. We used to be all quiet, and this buzz was all we ever heard.

Rose perfume

Reminds me of maths (yeah that’s right 😀 ). Might be because my favourite maths teacher used to wear this perfume. A colleague now wears it, and on some days, I’m back in school.

The clatter of the train

Transports me back to the trips to Kerala that my sister and I used to go on, with Amma. Dad seldom accompanied us when we were children, for he could not tear himself away from his work. I used to count the days to finally get on to the train.

The taste of Hajmola

Reminds me of my maternal grandmother. She used to keep a bottle of them in her trunk, and would let me take a liberal helping whenever I raided her room 😀 . She used to have some lovely pickled lemon peels too.

Goldfish

Remind me of my sister. Be it reading about them, or seeing them. The farthest my memory goes, something related to goldfish was the first thing I read on my own, with sis hovering over me, to ensure that I did not run away 😀 .

The rain

The rain is very very special to me. I always believe that something good happens to me when it rains 🙂 . It brings to me memories that I cannot even place. They seem to be from some other setting – I absolutely cannot relate to the memories. But rain brings to me memories of the good times, of happiness and joy.

 

There we go.. I was verbally tagged by a friend, and the tag is open to anybody(if somebody is reading this 🙂 ).

Summer vacation 2008

Vacations today are nothing like when we were kids – in school, the word vacations encompassed months, in college, months shrunk to weeks, and in corporate lingo, vacations better be expressed in single-digit days!! I am extensive traveller, thanks to my manager’s superb self-control when I turn up at his desk to beg for a leave 😀 . Well, most of these travels are with friends, and lately, I was feeling pretty guilty that I rarely travel with my parents. So it was, that in late April, I decided to take a long weekend break and travel to God’s own country with my parents. Now, for a person born and brought up in Bangalore, Kerala is a pretty horrid place to go to in the summer months, but Kerala it had to be, for I knew not another place that my parents would enjoy travelling to. And so, we set out at dawn on the 17th of April. Dad, of course, at the wheel.

We took the outer ring road out of Bangalore towards Mysore road. Mysore road today is a far cry from what it used to be a few years ago. The twin-lane highway has expanded into four lanes, with a concrete divider. During daytime, the jaywalking villagers, their animals and slow bullock-carts are a hindrance to fast driving, but the villages had hardly woken up at that hour. We whizzed along with a cool breeze ducking in and out of the windows. In two hours, we had reached Mysore, at which point we planned to ask truckers about the road’s condition. If we planned to take the Sultanbathery route, I knew the roads were alright, but I wanted to drive longer through the Bandipur forests and travel via Nilambur. Stopping at a petrol pump to top off and check air-pressures, we were aghast to find that the car had guzzled seventeen litres of gas for a mere 140 km. Now we were seriously biased against the Nilambur route, as I had not seen any LPG dispensing stations on that road. Nevertheless, we decided to take the Nilambur route, and set out of Mysore towards Nanjangud and Gundlupet. We stopped off at the Cafe Coffee-Stop out of Nanjangud. It is set in a peaceful locale, with lots of real-estate to walk and stretch cramped limbs. The place is neat too, unlike those in Gundlupet. We feasted on dosas and coffee, and soon, it was time to leave. Dad refused to let me drive – he was enjoying handling the just-serviced car on the smooth albeit narrow highway!!

We reached Gundlupet in a few minutes and, with a perfunctory glance at the faithful Sulthanbathery road, moved across to the road towards Nilambur. The road is in a horrible state for a distance of around 10 km out of Gundlupet, if one could call that a road. Thereafter, we entered the Bandipur forest range, with “jungle lodges” dotting the landscape. A few kilometres on, we entered the real forest, and I was thankful that I was not driving – now I could devote my time and attention to looking for animal herds, rather than on the road.. 🙂 . We were lucky enough to spot a herd of spotted deer, some peafowl and many many herds of elephants. It was certainly a treat to watch the baby elephants frolicking around. Though i wanted to go on the famed Bandipur jungle safari, the onward journey beckoned, and we proceeded towards Gudalur. Gudalur is a quaint little town bordering the states of Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Kerala, and it is believed that the place got it’s name from this fact. Somehow, Gudalur reminded me of Ooty.. 🙂 . Soon we were at the Karnataka border check-post. The guards looked like they wanted to ask me something, but backed-off at my fierce expression 😉 . On a previous trip, they had extorted some money from me for opening the gate, hence the fierce expression this time 😉 . We proceeded to the Tamil Nadu checkpost, where we had to pay Rs. 25/- as entry fee. This fee is acknowledged with a receipt. A few yards on, all vehicles were being examined by policemen. After this, the road got progressively narrow-er towards Nilambur. I asked Dad to stop by the side, and forcefully took over the wheel 🙂 . Yes, I love driving, especially on roads with twists and turns.

Now we were to proceed to a place called Nadugani. We asked for directions and were told to take a right turn. Folks, at the first traffic signal(with traffic lights!!) out of Gudalur, take a right turn towards Nadugani. We were soon buzzing along towards Nadugani. The road was ok, but I could sense the radial tyres struggling to maintain traction. I did not, sensibly, attempt any dangerous overtakes. Soon, we reached a junction with a closed forest gate on the left. Folks, this gate is easy to miss – you will reach here in approx. 20 mins after the right-turn I told you about. There is a small hand-written board that points the way; make sure your navigator is sharp-eyed!! A guard rushed to open the gates, and we were soon entering the Nadugani ghat section. During the previous monsoon, there was a landslide that blocked vehicular traffic upto Nilambur. The repairs have already been completed on the Kerala side, and still going on on the Tamil Nadu side. I navigated cautiously over the non-existent road, fighting to keep the tyres from skidding off. And at last, crossed over to the Kerala side. Yahoo!! The road condition changes abruptly. The famed rubberized road with yellow markings on either side.

I hardly ever touched the brakes on the ghat section. The roads are banked beautifully and the traffic is far and few in between. I felt a vertigo attack coming on, so I did not slow down to enjoy the sights. In minutes, we were out of the ghat section. Till now the weather was a sport, but now the heat was turning on. Amma was feeling a little sick from all the twists and bumps – I dont know why she dislikes wearing the seatbelt – so we stopped off for a nice salty fresh lime soda. We started off again, with Dad back at the wheel.

We reached Nilambur and rushed pronto to the LPG re-fuelling station, only to find that the car had used just 7 litres of gas for the drive from Mysore to Nilambur!! The figures were really impossible, what with the horrible roads and the ghat section, so we just assumed over-filling at Mysore. On enquiring at the pump, we were told to take the road to the left at the next fork, and drive on to Perinthalmanna. There was a shorter route, the man said, but I guess it was too complicated for him to explain to us.. 🙂 . We decided to set off and ask for directions along the way. We need’nt have worried, for there were the “Guruvayur, Sabarimala this way” sign-boards at all major junctions. Anyway, folks, to get to Guruvayur, you have to travel via Pattambi, and take a turn at Wandoor towards Kunnamkulam. Just to be sure, do ask at every junction 🙂 .

One thing I noticed was that there are almost no good hotels on this road – after a lot of slow-driving and searching, we settled for a typical Kerala meal at a run-down place. From there it was all smooth driving to Guruvayur via Kunnamkulam, and we had driven just 380 km in 8 hours.. pretty cool eh?

We stayed a day at Guruvayur, and two days at Cochin, mostly spent in visiting relatives. Was thankful to escape the stifling humidity and heat, back to cooler climes of Bangalore!!

Good Friday

It was a superb Friday, if you ask me. Almost two years out of Engineering college, and many of us had not met each other since leaving college. Vineeth, as usual, brought up the idea of a one-day trip over the long weekend. Almost 14 of us had tentatively agreed, but till late at night on thursday, things looked doubtful. Some of us, infact, thought that the trip was cancelled.. 😀 . The onus of arranging the vehicle fell to me, and though I raked up many contacts, was unable to find a suitable vehicle. You see, other people were much more calculated than us when it came to planning trips over the long weekend. Dad watched amusedly as I tried in vain to find a Tempo Traveller. And after I had almost given up on finding one, he stepped in and effortlessly arranged one for us. And that too, at a much lesser tariff than normal. Phew.

I paid the advance and checked about hundred times with the driver whether there were good seats and a music system. If not seats atleast the music system, I told him. I stopped only when he started giving me dirty threatening looks. I had planned to leave home by 6:30 am and pick people up along the way, picking the last group at Maruti mandir, Vijayanagar. Since I had heard a lot about how drivers turn up late for trips, I asked for the vehicle to report at my house by 5:30 am, and silently chuckled to myself, hair bristling with pride at how I would, after all, manage to leave at 6:30 am, even if the vehicle was late. I had grossly miscalculated – the vehicle reached home at 5:30 am, honking me out of deep dreams. Now I had to contend with the driver’s scowls each time I looked out of the window 😀 .

Finally, with a backpack full of snacks and some clothes to change into, I started from home at 6:30 am sharp. Picked up varsha at Malleshwaram at 7 am. Went to pick up Bindu and Chaitra near Soumya Paradise. Varsha had a tough time waking up Bindu and convincing her that the trip was on, after all 😀 . After an excrutiatingly long 😉 wait, we finally went off towards Vijayanagar. Met Vamsi on the way, to collect a volleyball. Meeting him for the first time since college, exchanged pleasantries. He asked me where we were going, and I responded that we were yet to decide. I turned back to see horrified expressions on the faces of the girls and the driver. With a fake reassuring smile, I got into the vehicle. Picked up Vin, Mohs, Prats, Neha, Sapna, Pooja and Anu at Vijayanagar. The driver aked me where we wanted to go. I pointed vaguely in the direction of Mysore, and we were off. Amidst the chatter and excitement, managed to take some snaps. Soon, we were discussing about breakfast. Everybody voted for the thatte idlis near the Bidadi bridge, but then decided to stop near a small village hotel when we saw one.

Had nice idlis with sambar, chutney and bondas. We all trooped back to the vehicle, but vin and mohs had disappeared. They came back with some toxic-looking holi powder. At any slight provocation, vin would point to the holi powder, and I would shut up, because I was wearing a yellow t-shirt. Finally, we decided to go to the Himavad Gopalaswamy Hills just out of Gundlupet. The weather was pleasant, with just a little part of the sun peeking out of the cloud cover. We crossed Nanjangud without incident, but encountered a huge traffic-pile up just before Gundlupet. Some election campaigning on the road saw us spend almost half an hour in the traffic, and finally, around 1 pm, we reached the Gopalaswamy hills, which is well into the Bandipur forest area.

The change in weather and temperature was dramatic – the temperature dropped suddenly and the sky was overcast. We ventured out behind the temple into the shrubland, but were forbidden by the forest guards to go any further as it could rain at any moment. While we were still standing around, we heard the distant roar of the rain, and by the time we reached the temple, we were all drenched to the skin!!

With nothing else to do, we went into the temple, and discovered why the temple was named so – there is snow inside the sanctum sanctorum every day of the year(Hima means snow). The priest gave us a quick historical insight into the temple’s past, and then did a puja for us. It was still raining when we came out, but stopped in a few minutes. The scene at the temple-top was beyond description, what with the mist and greenery all around us. It was difficult to even believe that it was so bright and sunny in Gundlupet, a few km away. After the rain had subsided completely, we trooped back into the vehicle and returned to Gundlupet, where we had lunch. Since it was already late, we decided to return to Bangalore.

We reached Mysore late in the evening, and Neha, Prats and me decided to show(off) everybody the Infosys campus(though nobody else looked so enthusiastic :D). I had driven to Infosys a couple of times during my training days, but so much had changed in a year – I lost my way, and directed the driver onto a wrong turn 😦 . Further on, we spied a group of people, who Prats insisted were Infy interns, and we proceeded there to ask for directions. They were a large group of foreign interns, and Infosys had arranged a Holi extravaganza right outside their guest house. While Prats and me asked for directions, the rest of the group silently trooped out of the vehicle and joined the revellers!! What followed was a half hour of enthusiastic singing and dancing 😀 . As it was getting late, much against our wishes, we bid farewell to the Infoscions and started towards Bangalore.

After a short coffee break at Maddur, we reached Bangalore around 9 pm. Yes, it was a gooooood Friday!!

True Love

It all began with the shriek of the train. It probably masked out the shrieks of warning that I’m sure the Gods above were crying out to me. As the train left the lonely outback siding and headed out into the sinister night ahead, I felt an icy feeling slowly spreading over my body. The lightning revealed the landscape outside in slideshow-fashion. It was as though the deafening thunder was cracking open the night-sky above; the bright light that streamed in through these cracks afforded glimpses of trees and mighty mountains cowering in terror before the fury of the heavens. The sky was painted a hue of red – I did not know it then, but I was probably watching a preview of the gory drama about to be enacted on that train a few hours from then.    

          The train was to take me to Tipalli, a small, orthodox town in Southern India. At Tipalli, I would meet the love of my life, the at-once sweet and at-once strong Nita. Our life after I alighted from the train at Tipalli was already planned out by Nita. Tipalli was to be the launch-pad to a life all of our own, so personal, so private. I had some apprehensions about our life ahead, but Nita, with the typical trust that a love bug-bitten-girl puts in her man and his macho abilities, was oblivious to any insecurity. She had already planned on various aspects of our life in the US, to where we planned to fly, or rather flee, immediately after a hurried marriage service. Months of learning to speak my mother tongue, months of meditating on photos of my immediate and extended family, months of observing and mentally noting my likes and dislikes would have led her to discount any warnings that her intuition was trying to give her. But me, I lived constantly in fear – a fear of the unknown.

          To me, rain has always heralded good luck, but on this journey, I knew clearly that the blood-red rain pouring down from the skies was not just another of nature’s vagaries. It was telling me something, something I couldn’t yet comprehend fully. The train struggled up the steep mountain slopes, hauled by three enormous locomotives. I was startled out of my sleep by an abrupt jerk and a simultaneous peal of thunder. I saw that we were deep inside the forests of the Western Ghats. The terrain fell away abruptly a few feet from the tracks. Far below to my right, I could barely make out the jagged peaks of the Western Ghats. As if in reply to the question that crossed my mind, the train guard, walking through the compartment, told me that there was a landslide onto the tracks, and that we could well be stuck here for a day or two. Sighing, I turned back to the window. Inwardly, I was relieved that a delay of 2-3 days here would not upset our schedule – I had planned to reach Tipalli a week ahead of the wedding.

          I must have dozed off, because I was startled by the touch of a warm hand on my knee. I looked around; the door to my coupe was closed and in all probability, bolted securely too. I was alone with whoever it was.

“Wh… Who is it?”

A pregnant pause. “Chandrashekhar.”

The name rang a bell, but not enough bells to clear my foggy mind. I must have been wearing a mask of amazement, for the voice continued, “Nita is my daughter.”

A thousand butterflies awoke inside my stomach, threatening to carry me away with their nervous fluttering. The fact that it was midnight, in the midst of a raging storm, in the middle of a jungle, did nothing to make me discount etiquette. “So?”

“So nothing, Sreejith.”

I wanted to wonder some more, but my mind simply refused to make the effort. I was in a unique consciousness of silence and violence at the same time. I was acutely aware of the ominous silence that hung like a heavy blanket inside the coupe; the wind shrieked outside, in deadly fury.

“Sreejith, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Sreejith, I know all about you and Nita.”

“How?”

“Why should I tell you?” Now I knew where Nita had got that question from.

“So that I may not kick you out of my coupe this very minute.”

A mirthless laughter issued forth from the faceless intruder. The laughter sounded familiar – had I known this man earlier? “You will do no such thing, but I might as well tell you. I came across the letters you wrote to my daughter, as well as your photographs.”

“Does Nita know?”

“No”

“So what do you want now?”

“I want you to forget my daughter.”

The mirthless laughter came from me this time, but was liberally flavored with nervousness. “Impossible.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think Nita would be prepared to forget me. And I would do nothing to hurt her. Why could you not just bless our marriage and let us live happily?”

“Because you are not of our caste. I would rather kill her than give her in marriage outside our caste. On second thoughts, I would rather kill you.”

“You know your daughter. Even if I were to disappear from her life, she would never agree to live with another man.”

“Well then, you could make her forget yourself.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Fight with her. Make her hate you. How you do it is your headache.”

This amateurish suggestion amused me. Fight Nita’s love? “And what if I refuse?”

          At this point, the train suddenly leapt forward and I caught a glint of a metal from the man who sat opposite me. I had my answer. Now I knew what the shrieking winds were telling me. Now I knew what the red color of the sky meant. But all the winds and storms of the planet could never shake my love for Nita.

“I refuse.”

          I do not remember anything after. When I came to, I was bound by a nylon rope to the window bars of the restroom. The train had long left the mountains behind. The shrieking winds had dropped. Disappointed by my inability to take hints, nature had put on her best gloomy expression, resigned to play the witness. Through the pervading gloom, I could make out the faint outline of the intruder’s body.

“Do you still refuse?”

“Unh huh…”And then I felt a searing pain in my chest, as if somebody were sawing me open. The pain was so intense that it didn’t register anymore. I saw and experienced everything as would a dispassionate bystander. I felt the rasp of the cold metal against Sreejith’s skin. I was beginning to feel warm all over – warm from Sreejith’s blood that was pouring out of his body and soaking his clothes. The smell of death choked me. Flashes of Sreejith’s life sped past my clouded eyes. In this moment of clarity, I saw an orgasmic bliss cross the attacker’s face. But wait! I recognize those eyes – it was not Nita’s father, but someone poor Sreejith had trusted too well. Sreejith’s dearest friend Mahesh, who was to be the best man at his wedding, in whom he had confided his deepest secrets, the only one among his friends who knew of his affair with Nita. I almost laughed at Sreejith for never even questioning how Nita’s father found his coupe on the train, and why Nita’s father sounded so young and familiar. Of course, moments of clarity that come in deep distress usually last only a few thousandths of a second. The dispassionate bystander vanished. I came to my limited senses again when some water splashed against my unshaven cheek. Mahesh was washing himself and his weapon of my blood.

“Mahesh, why?” I doubted he would hear me croak, over the clatter of the train, but he turned to me with a sad smile.”Because, Sree, I love her much more than you do…”         

          My ears caught the shriek of the locomotive as it pulled into Tipalli. I heard the shrieks of passengers as they embraced their loved ones. Over all that din, I heard Nita’s shriek of excitement as she pointed out my compartment to her cousin. And as for me, thankfully, it all ended with that shriek of excitement.

The Monsoon

She took one look at his resume, threw her head back and laughed heartily. He wasn’t offended though, for that was what he had intended for his resume to do – he had written it in a deeply humorous style, hoping to make an impression on the interviewer’s mind. Mahesh was at an interview, and the girl in question was the interview facilitator. At first sight, Mahesh had a deep sense of recognition, as if he had known her a long time ago. She was lean, of average height, hair bobbed, and had a slightly anemic look about her. Later on, she confessed that she had had the same sense of recognition when she saw Mahesh for the first time. Eventually, Mahesh worked his way through the 4 rounds of interviews that the company had planned to test his caliber, and as he was leaving, Nita asked to keep an unofficial copy of his resume. Yeah, Nita was her name, and Mahesh had complied. They parted, not to see each other for the next 5 months, or rather, not to notice each other for the next 5 months.         

          The scene cuts to one hot May afternoon. The office campus looked deserted, though there were about a thousand people in it. The oppressive heat outside dissuaded the usual discussion groups from gathering around the coveted seating platforms under the trees on the grounds. No crowds milling about the beverage dispensing machines either. It was as if the sun had lulled the campus to a doze. Mahesh had finished his tasks for the week, and it being a Thursday afternoon, he had not much to do. Tired of staring at the computer, he had escaped out to the lobby, and gathering up the day’s newspaper and a large cup of Pepsi, settled down on the lounge chair. He was maybe halfway through the paper when he sensed somebody reading the other side of the paper. He looked over the paper to see Nita. She giggled in a schoolgirl kind of way, as if she had done something naughty by reading the paper without his knowledge. But perhaps she was thinking about his resume. For his part, Mahesh was thoroughly surprised to see her, for he had put her out of mind after the interview – he had had a very tough time leaving his old job; the throes of relocation and everything else had left him thoroughly exhausted. That afternoon, neither returned to work, instead doing all the things that two people do when they are getting to know each other. Nita was staying at her aunt’s home, while her parents stayed on at their native village. Mahesh was single, staying with bachelor friends. They chatted about how they had braved odds and worked their ways through their education, and finding many common interests. Finally, when it was time to part, neither wanted to – they had enjoyed each other’s company so much. Thereafter, they met frequently on different occasions – when they co-incidentally picked up coffee at the dispenser together, at the company’s quarterly DJ nite, and the like. However, Mahesh was deeply loyal to his girlfriend of two years, and Nita ignited no romantic thoughts in him. Nita was a simple girl, and she too had no such feelings for Mahesh. Together, Mahesh and Nita looked as if they were painting the impossible picture of a young couple sharing a platonic relationship.         

          Yes, impossible is the word, for one day, disaster struck. On one of the company’s routine medical check-ups for its employees, the physician had sensed something amiss, and recommended Mahesh for a detailed examination. It was then that his world came crashing down – he was diagnosed with cancer. For several days, Mahesh walked around in a daze. He could not bring himself to break the news to his parents or girlfriend for he feared that they would be devastated. Mahesh considered himself to be very strong emotionally, and felt that he could manage without any emotional backing. His manager was very understanding, giving him unlimited paid leave to undergo treatment. The company would bear the entire costs of treatment. No one would need to know anything; moreover, the disease was in its initial stages, and the specialists were 100% sure that he would be cured in no time. What Mahesh had not accounted for was that though the disease was not advanced, he would still need to undergo a lot of pain and separation from his loved ones. Weeks turned into months and injections turned into chemotherapies. He kept in regular contact with his parents over phone, and explained that he was unable to visit them for a few months as he was under intense work pressure. His parents accepted his excuses, but the girlfriend was gradually drifting away. Mahesh was acutely aware of the gulf in the relationship, but was unable to do anything about it, restricted to professing his love over the phone, which the girlfriend heard with a patient, but bored disinterest. Hope and enthusiasm turned into despair and depression. Mahesh felt all alone in the world. Except for a once-in-a-while brief phone call from his manager, colleagues or a few close friends, nobody seemed to be bothered. Six months had passed. The girlfriend had ended the relationship. Close friends preferred to forget him. And the sun decided to thaw Mahesh’s heart.         

          One morning, as Mahesh was resting on the lawns of the hospital, feeling the gentle warmth of the March sun caressing him, he spied a group of people walking towards him. And each of them he did recognize – it was his team from office! Just as he was wondering what had brought them here, they broke out into a joyful rendition of “Happy birthday to you… ” And it was then that he realized that it was his birthday! Tears clouded his vision as his teammates hugged his frail frame, and then he spotted Nita smiling from the doorway. For the first time, Mahesh was conscious of the haggard image that he presented, but was nevertheless happy to see Nita. Though not part of his team, she had come to visit him, and to Mahesh, it was a clear sign that somebody cared, and that God indeed did. The sunshine appeared brighter, the lawns greener, and the future filled with hope again. After a fun-filled four hours, the visitors returned to Bangalore, and the memories they left behind assured Mahesh that he was still being cared for.         

          Nita visited frequently, often sacrificing her weekends and vacations to bring succor and hope to Mahesh’s life. And when she returned after one such visit, Mahesh accompanied her, fully cured, albeit in haggard shape and on a strict diet. Nita had arranged for him to stay with her friends in a house near her, so that she could be on hand if he ever needed help. Months passed and Mahesh was strong enough to attend office again. He used to drive Nita and himself in his car to office, have breakfast and lunch together, and one would wait if the other got late, so that they could return together. By now, both were aware of a strong bond that had sprung up between them. Neither found the courage to put it into words, for fear of offending the other. In this way, time passed and it was May again. A year after they had met. An article in the newspaper mentioned that the monsoon was on its way and would make landfall in two weeks. Something stirred deep inside Mahesh’s heart. He had always loved the rain, and the heavenly grandeur of a thunderstorm always made him feel so close and connected to God. He mentioned this to Nita, who suggested that he take a break and travel on the monsoon tourism trails of the Kerala tourism department. On an impulse, he asked Nita if she would like to accompany him. What followed were hectic parleys between Nita, her parents and her local guardians. With less than a week to go for the monsoons to arrive, they finally decided to travel.         

          So it was one fine Friday morning in late May that Mahesh and Nita set out in his car, on their way to Cochin in Kerala. Traversing through the hot terrains of South India, they finally reached Cochin one magical evening. The atmosphere was humid and heavy, with the stifling heat that is the hallmark of south Indian summers. In the late evening, they could see the heavy moisture-laden clouds lining the edges of the horizon. They booked a 3-day cruise on a houseboat, and slept fitfully that night. The next day was spent in sun-bathing, fishing and swimming around the houseboat. That evening, they sat together on the upper deck of the boat, watching the sunset. The effect was mesmerizing, as the sun splashed various hues of red, purple and gold across the sky. A harbinger of the monsoon, a cold wind blew landwards. The crew of the houseboat were busy pulling in the fishing nets and setting out the dim electric lights. The noise of music and drunken revelry on another houseboat carried across to them over the water. Lights twinkled on ships outside the port and tiny houses on the numerous islands that dot the backwaters. Nita sat on a step, while Mahesh sat at her feet on a step below her. Both were in their own worlds, each lost in their own thoughts. The gentle roll of the houseboat beneath them created a soothing movement. And then Mahesh reached out and clasped Nita’s right hand in his. No words were spoken. There was no need to. The fingers of Nita’s left hand gently caressed the stubble of hair that was left on Mahesh’s head after the chemotherapy. Two warm tear drops fell onto Mahesh’s shoulders, and they seemed to burn the pains of the past and bring in new warmth to his soul. And as the two souls rejoiced, they heard the pitter-patter of raindrops on the water next to the boat, and the approaching roar of heavy rain, rushing in from the sea. The monsoon clouds blocked out the dying light of the setting sun, as the rain fell in heavy sheets over the motionless couple on the houseboat. Even in the bright lightning, one couldn’t make out whether it was the rain or the tears. The monsoon had arrived.

Packaged homeopathy

When she caught me scratching my head for the umpteenth time that day, mom ruled – “You have dandruff. You’re going to the doctor. Today”. I knew she meant business. She always does, in the tone of voice that she employed that day. Strangely, dad too collaborated. So, it was off to the doc’s.. Since I had tasted everything that the Ayurvedic and Allopathic fraternities could churn out for the life-threatening condition called dandruff, Dad suggested that we try homeopathy this time. I remembered seeing a chic-looking homeopathy clinic near Navarang Circle in Bangalore. So that was were we went, dad and me, on a fine Saturday evening. As we entered the clinic premises, we were greeted by building construction debris and the like strewn in front of the premises. Somehow we crossed the “moat” and entered the clinic. We were greeted courteously with frowns by their receptionists. I told them that I wanted to meet the doctor – any doctor on their panel. The receptionist quickly launched into an interrogation – where do u stay, what’s your “condition”, where did u read about us and the like. At the third question, she was promptly cut down to size. She then informed me that it would cost me Rs. 250 in consultation fees to see the doctor. While dad groaned inwardly, I was duly impressed. For, until then, I had this logic that costly services are generally good. After waiting for about 5 mins, we were ushered in to see the doctor. We found the doctor scribbling on his hand-held, in an apparent move to impress patients. After waiting patiently for another 5 mins, we were given a curt nod by the doctor – a signal to start talking. I quickly told him about my problem. Compassion overfloweth from the doctor’s face – very sadly he informed me that dandruff was very difficult to treat, and that I would soon end up bald – that is, unless I followed his advice to the letter. I wondered inwardly whether he himself had joined this hospital before or after he “contracted” dandruff.. I mentally cautioned myself not to trust this guy, since he did not meet my eyes while talking – I guess the floor appeared more interesting to this guy, than my poor oily face. He told us that he would examine me after I had gone out, completed the “formalities”, and opened a case file.Now, I was a little perplexed, especially because the staff outside looked nervous. I found out the reason soon enough – I had to opt for a “package”, and my choice was limited to whether I wanted a 6-month-package, or a 2-year package. And I was told that I had to pay the full amount upfront, some 3k for the cheapest one. I just sat there dumbfounded, wondering whether this was really happening in modern India!! I wondered aloud what would happen to my money if I wanted to discontinue the treatment before the stipulated period was over. I got a flamboyant reply from the receptionist, with an over-spiced accent, “Sir, it is mentioned very clearly in the flyer, your money will not be refunded”. I had nothing to tell the receptionist – I simply had no intention of throwing away hard-earned money to people who had no reservations in openly printing swindler schemes on flyers and were capable of presenting it to anybody who cared, without a hint of shame!! Just as we had stated our apologies and risen up, we were hit by another demand – that we pay Rs.250 for “consultation”. And all that the doctor did was to inform me that I would go bald soon, and that he would examine me later!!My patience had taken a walk – I gave the receptionist a full 5 minutes of gyaan, after which I walked out.There ended my tryst with homeopathy – no packaged homeopathy for me, please!!

The wait has ended…

Well, contrary to what I had read and heard, VTU has indeed sent me the transcripts within one week of applying… kudos to VTU… I dont know whether to be happy or surprised.. well, both I guess.. anyway for now, the wait has ended.. 🙂

Visit to VTU(Visvesvaraya Technological University, Jnana Sangama, Belgaum)

First off, this is what I would like to tell anyone who is planning to obtain their transcripts from VTU – apply early!! This would mean a lot of savings – both money and time-wise. For those applying early, there is the option of applying through the college. You could get the necessary info from the Examination Section of the concerned engineering college. You could take receipt of the transcripts in about 5-6 weeks from date of application. However, I dint have the liberty of applying early, so what I did was as follows:Pre-preparations: From what I read on a few blogs, I came to know that Xerox copies of original marks cards have to be submitted along with the application. One blogger had even written that the copies had to be attested by the college principal. Not wanting to take any chances, on the eve of my departure to Belgaum, I coerced my dad to go to my college armed with the originals and copies of the marks cards, and try to get them attested. I was very lucky in that the attestations were done on the same day (it usually doesn’t work that way in my college!!).I also got dad to obtain a DD of the required amount from Bangalore itself, since we did not want to waste time running around for DDs in Belgaum. The DD has to be payable at Belgaum.I had also read that the Registrar – Evaluation (whose signature is mandatory on the transcripts) is not available on all days at the university. Accordingly, I got dad to try and call on the registrar’s office phone number, which was given on the university website, but I got no response. Dad enquired with the regional office in Bangalore, but they too provided him the same number. No response. The date was 28th November. The deadlines for university applications were fast approaching. With no other option left, dad and me decided to leave for Belgaum the same evening. We booked our tickets on the Rani Chennamma Express, scheduled to leave Bangalore at 21:15 hrs.Travel: we reached the railways station at around 20:15 hrs. Ample time left. The rake was yet to be shunted onto the platform. We loitered about here and there, and at around 20:45 hrs, the train was shunted in. Another 5 minutes for the reservation charts to be pasted. We quickly identified S1, entered the coach and claimed our seats. The train departed punctually at 21:15 hrs. We were on our way to Belgaum. There were a couple of school children who were going to Belgaum for a sports-meet. Had some fun chit-chattering with them. I was feeling really sleepy, so I climbed up onto the berth, covered myself with a warm sheet and fell asleep. I was awakened by the T.T.E., who had come to inspect the tickets. Dad showed him the ticket, and I fell into a deep sleep again. The next thing I knew was the train halting with a jerk at Hubli. The date was 29th November, and the time, 06:15. Most of the passengers were still sleeping, so I too closed my eyes and lay quietly. After about 25 minutes, the train slowly departed Hubli station, and within minutes, everybody was up. I woke up dad, and we both came down to our seats and sat down to watch the scenery flash by. The sights of the countryside were especially soothing. Rolling grasslands punctuated by small water-bodies, lush green fields, mountain-tips sparkling in the early-morning sunshine, small patches of human habitation and at intervals, the earth being excavated to lay down a parallel railway line. The morning was beautiful. The train halted at various stations like Dharwar, Alnavar, etc., but no sight of tea-vendors for a long time. Dad and I are accustomed to the morning cup of tea, so we waited anxiously for one. Finally, we spotted a vendor, and bought two cups of elaichi tea from him for Rs. 10. Sipping the steaming tea with the cold wind from the window lashing against the face was a heavenly experience. It was 08:15. Belgaum was fast approaching. Dad and I took turns to watch the baggage while we went to the toilet to freshen up. Soon, the tile factories on the right side of the train, houses, shops, etc., and a busy road on the left (on which, incidentally, we spotted a bus of the university) heralded the arrival of Belgaum. We gathered our luggage and got out of the train. The time was 09:00.One of the blogs that I had read had mentioned a bus-station just opposite the railway station. However, we thought it wise to check with a traffic policeman who we spotted regulating traffic outside the railway station. He pointed us away from the bus-stand, saying that we would get buses from the intersection of the main road. Imagine our consternation, when a policeman at the intersection directed us back to the bus-stand opposite the railway station! We trudged back to the bus – stand and enquired with the station master there, who told us to wait for the bus that goes to “Santhibastawad”. It was here that I met two boys fresh out of college. Safair and Abu had studied at the Don Bosco engineering college in Bangalore, and had come to Belgaum to collect their consolidated marks-cards and provisional degree certificates. We talked for a while, and then dad and I decided to hire an auto to the university. The auto-wallah asked for 100 bucks, and dad asked for seventy. Since the auto-wallah did not understand the word “seventy”, I had to summon up my last reserves of Hindi and said “Saat aur dus”!!. AW grinned at me and said “satthar”? Ok. Soon we were along to the university. We passed the KLE’s Institute of Technology and the Gogte Institute of Technology. Soon the crowded streets gave way to a road lined with trees and thickets on both sides. After a 10-km ride, we reached the university; AW dropped us off in front of the administrative block. The time was 10:00 sharp.Optimum route: at the bus-stand opposite the railway station, if you do not spot any buses that go to VTU, it is better to take a bus to C. B. T(very frequent), and take a bus to VTU from there. AWs fleece you.There were clear pointers as to where the examination section is located(2nd floor), and we went up there in a lift. I entered the examination section and asked the receptionist for an application for transcripts. The receptionist, while giving me the application, informed me that I would not be getting the transcripts that day, since the registrar was not in office. I called up my counselor, who told me not to worry, just submit the application, and return to Bangalore. Accordingly, I filled up the application, attached the attested copies of marks cards, and the DD(Rs. 250 for the first copy, Rs.150 for every subsequent copy, all on a single DD – the rates are subject to change, better to check with VTU before taking a DD), and submitted the same. When dad enquired for the phone number, he was given a totally different number than what is mentioned on the website!! I reproduce the number here for anybody who wishes to call up the registrar. The number is 0831- 2498136. Since we had booked our return journey on the Karnataka Sampark Kranti express that leaves Belgaum at 18:55, we decided to hang around the university and try our luck at the end of the day.We soon located the cafeteria and breakfasted on vegetable rice and ksheera. After breakfast, we settled down under a tree on a bench to pass time till 16:00, at which time we had decided to leave for the railway station. Somehow we passed time till about 13:00, after which we decided to move to a different place. Three more hours to go. We went outside the administrative block and settled down on a patch of grass under a tree. Other visitors like us had already settled down there. Safair and Abu were there too. We had a banana and biscuits that mom had had the sense to pack for us. Dad slept for sometime, while I watched the buses to Santhibastawad go to and fro. Around 15:30, just to try my luck, I went up to the examination section, but the transcripts were not ready. The receptionist promised me that the transcripts would be mailed by the following week. Around 16:15, we took a bus bound for C.B.T. However, since we spotted the railway station on the way, we got down near the station itself. Near the station, we spotted a small restaurant, and we had dosa and tea there. The time was 17:00 hrs. Two hours to go. We settled down on the benches in the railway station. After sometime, when it was announced that our train would arrive on platform 3, we moved to platform 3. During this time, we noticed that activists of a political party were traveling to Bangalore. They first crowded into the Rani Chennamma express, but their leaders directed them to the Sampark Kranti express. These people did not possess reservations, but nevertheless crowded into the reserved compartments, despite repeated requests by their leaders over the P.A system, not to do so. They occupied the berths forcefully, and reacted rudely to anybody who dared question them. Perhaps it was the crowd-psychology – they were making it a point to act rudely, and act boisterously. However, by some stroke of luck, our berths were cleared out and we settled down to sleep by 21:00. However we had not had dinner yet, since the train had not stopped anywhere, and the pantry car had closed down since the time the activists got on. However when the train reached Hubli, there was a large contingent of the Railway Protection Force waiting to receive us. They swarmed on to the train and expelled people without reservations from each reserved coach before meticulously locking and securing the coach. However, we could not purchase any food from Hubli either, since there was a lathi-charge outside. Each time the train moved, somebody would pull the chain, and the train was forced to halt. After a series of such halts, we left Hubli about 45 minutes behind schedule. We had to sate our hunger with a pack of biscuits and water.However, the train made up for lost time, and we reached Yeshwantpur ahead of schedule. We reached home in about 20 minutes and then began the wait for the transcripts.. Hope it doesn’t take more than a week… 🙂