Coming soon...

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When you have an idea to begin something, till the right words come by you have to wait. Wait for the correct combination to take place, give some time for the idea to ripe.

Just like a complex recipe, you know what you want to make how to make it and have all the ingredients but have to let them marinate, simmer, and cook in the right way. Then the result is a perfect dish; Ready to be served.

This little piece of something was cooked, I mean written in similar way. I had to wait for many things to fall in right place. Now is the outcome presented before you, I hope you will enjoy this new flavor!

An almost perfect wedding, a tall beauty in short white wedding rob followed by a veil, like a patch of shiny little stars knitted in long threads. The bride is accompanied by a rather short, funny, and a bit messy groom in black. The two look happy. However, this is not my point; this was only a part of the album. The rain comes towards the end, when the wedding party is on. Merry people, they are dancing and laughing, drinking and dancing. On a table there is a cake. The couple comes and cuts it. And there comes the rain. Wraps everything around. All is drenched; water pouring from everywhere. What a beautiful chaos!

…..and then the funeral; the flawless beauty, quiet and still laying peacefully in a coffin. Friends and family are in deep grief. Just as the priest starts to say the last prayers, it starts raining again, once again. The husband looks at the sky helplessly, once a wedding rain today it’s a funeral rain. Like a burning dagger the emptiness cuts through his heart in the mid of cold pouring. It continues to rain….the bunch of red roses thrown by the bride fall on her grave, and fades to white.

The rain washes away the present out of it; and it keeps on descending.

~~~~

Since long I have been complaining about rains. A friend calls and says

‘Let’s meet up.’

I look out of the balcony and frown ‘But its raining!!’...

‘So? Don’t believe you are saying that!’

‘I really don’t like rains in city’, the snob inside me says (As if it’s all up to my permission!) With great efforts I manage to dress up and leave.

But seriously, until lately I never liked rains. There is no definite explaining why? But I profoundly detested it. As a child, I used to look at people dying to step out of offices or houses just to feel the first drizzle.

They would look outside the windows and play with the drops of water splashing on their palms. How stupid, I thought! And those idiots darting foot ball on muddy play grounds. Football in rain! Laughing, soaking, jumping like crazy!! Where do these people get it? I always thought. It never occurred to me that deep inside I was the same, only undiscovered. For me it was all about getting sticky, scratchy, the puddles on roads and filthy smell of dampness. The only thing I liked about rain back than was the mushy smell of earth, and change in air that tickles the senses.

One such late evening as I was sitting idle doing some crap job for sake of it; when suddenly the sky became cloudy. A massive layer of clouds gathered. The already retiring sun was now completely covered with it. In the beginning a sad shadowy color painted all over. At distance I could see heavy showers advancing. As it got closer small drips started to fall here and there. In seconds it turned in to huge droplets. And as the air changed from pleasant to chilly, every gush of wind made me shiver. Nevertheless I enjoyed it. Like a child I jumped and rejoiced it.

The sky looked endless and full of mysteries; I wanted to gaze deeper and longer. There were small and big clouds peeping behind one another; all in shades of gray and blue with a string of golden highlight. Its silky silhouette looked so fine!! The raindrops were now crashing against the soft surface of earth quenching her thirst. From cracked dark brown the earth turned spongy brown. She looked content and cheerful. Why not, it was last monsoon she meet her lover.

The rain kept on falling forcefully. Many of the drops splashed against the iron bars on the balcony. They fell in a rhythm; a silent rhythm. Inside the translucent drop of water laid so many pictures, reflections. I turned my face towards the showering clouds to see the drops fall right in my eyes. It looked so incredible, every single drop falling down in slow motion; my eyes were washed with this cool liquid. And I realized there were warm tears mixing and pouring out as well. Who knows, may be looking at the pouring clouds they started to trickle as well. I didn’t ask why.

Isn’t it the same water that’s been [Re]-cycling since ages? It’s old and young at the same time. It has made a long journey through time, seen both the primitive and the modern. Yet it won’t forget to serve its duty, be true to it own nature. It’s pure when up in the sky than it descends up on us, allowing it self to get dirty, filthy and malice beyond limits. But than it is nature. It has the supremacy to recreate it self. While it’s here feel it.

Every year the earth waits for the rains reply. Hoping it will be back soon with its pallet of colors, its ageless beauty and purifying nature. When you understand that it gives you more than just the basic requirement of water, you very naturally give in. That’s the power of persuasion, persuasion of nature it self. How could I resist such a power? After all, I was touched by rain….

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Bangaluru & More

This piece circles around two parts. First as I see Bangaluru and its beauty as a city. Though I did not see the entire city I can say that it’s a nice place to be in. It’s a very happening place, in all aspects fashion, weather and industries.

The second part is about the more factor that I found in this entire journey. It is the sense of freedom and independence. It’s about the confidence, that when you take one step ahead, you can take many such steps without fear. Now that the task is completed and I look back, I realize that everything falls behind and only feelings are afloat. Apart from just experience and money, what remained in my memory is the way we carried our attitude; towards ourselves and others.

“Bangaluru and more” is all about small matters and obvious solutions (which are not so obvious at that time). It’s the way I saw and felt things.

Just the way I got a little more from this journey, if my reader also gets a little more, the purpose behind writing this write up would be fulfilled.

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It’s Saturday night, around 9PM. I get out of Rik and say goodbye to Pallavi. We look at each other with same expression of “What is going to happen?” I go to 1002, my door and ring the bell. Ma opens the door casually and stares at me in disbelief. Then she smiles and welcomes me inside. Baba looks at me and gives a pure expression of joy. My cousin has come from Mumbai and he looks totally lost. My surprise worked! Ma and baba are really excited. Then I explain dada how I tricked my folks into thinking that I would be coming on Sunday and landed here a day before. I have never been welcomed like this before.

At the same time Pallavi must be experiencing similar expressions. I hope her surprise works as well.

We wanted to surprise as many people as possible. To be quite frank I don’t get such opportunity to surprise my dear ones, every now and then; so why not use to its best.

I stepped inside my room with a strange feeling; like I was new in the house. It was a sour feeling of detachment that I developed during Bangaluru stay. I just thought of our rooms in Bel Air the 3-Star hotel we stayed in. For two good months it was our home. A place we returned to after tiring work and wanted warm shelter.

“Bangaluru jane vale sabhi yatrionko nivedan he ki….”

Eyes gazing out of the window, I managed to keep one ear towards the air hostess.

***********

This is my first flight and I am really excited. Apart from the joy of flying there is small space filled with a scene of achievement. So what if millions of people fly for business and many other reasons every minute, to me this is first one and it could be that small step towards open sky. So, I am just enjoying it to fullest.

The feeling of elevation from earth is awesome. Each time the bird lowered one of its wings in a certain direction and turned the view changed. As we navigated through the land of clouds it felt just like a dream land. Sunshine so clear and clouds so close, I had never seen before.

The journey ended quickly and comfortably. Bangaluru city is quite an attraction. We are trying not to get overwhelmed by its awesomeness. The roads are long with never ending queues. There are grand malls and shopping streets. We saw corporate offices in many places. All the attractions lay in front for you to accept. This is a city for dreamers.

***********

L and T…here we come..

The minute we stepped inside the premises of L and T , we started liking the place. It was a 20 minutes commuting. And by the end of 2 months we had by hearted all the neighborhood shops and malls. During the weekdays this was the only time we spent looking outside the window. Rest of the time we’d be neck deep in work all the time.

It was a relief that cleaning and rearranging room was taken care by hotel servants. How amazing it was to toss away the damp towels and crumpled sheets, and to find it all magically cleaned up made tidy when we returned exhausted from battle field..Ops..I meant work field.

We worked ceaselessly through the weekdays and all holidays and sincerely and strictly shopped on all Sundays.

There was a time when we wished for longer day and more days in the week. And we did not stop at this, we actually changed our diet to suit the work stress and keep ourselves fresh.

The way were working, we did not realize how much impact we had on these people, until one day the security in-charge asked us why we worked for so long without break. I guess they were genuinely worried about us. Wondering if we missed our families and why worked so hard. To this and same questions asked thereafter we had a standard answer “We are a team of women…we have commitments. Two of us are married (and the remaining three are to be married anytime!) We want to complete the work and return home in time.” This later became a joke for us. The fact was that on one hand we were getting addicted to the work and the surroundings and at the same time wanting to go home. The volume of work was like a huge mountain we had to cross without any help, for doing this we had to surpass our usual levels. Put in efforts after efforts without fear and hold utter confidence in ourselves. All this was going to result in unusual gains. No hard work goes waste.

The technical team of L and T would be working with us. So it was all going to be face to face. This team of initially four members would later expand to a team of 15 or so. Mr. Murugan the Project Manager was the most dedicated and helpful person. He patiently listened to our queries and made suggestions. Pankaj our coordinator made sure that we did not face any problems, prompt and professional. And dear Sangeeta the only female techni-member was most attached to us. We lunched together, chatted on coffee table, cracked jokes and helped each other.

Working on-site is a different kind of an experience, a chance that seldom comes to a translator. This gave us an opportunity to work more professionally. We put our heads together and figure out what was next task. A start to end job led us to better understanding of the subject. Everyday new day came with new challenge more work and more problems. And this we faced with fresher minds, more confidence and extra efforts. I remember one day Niyati went to do interpretation for a Japanese visitor. She had mailed me to solve a query…I was totally aghast to see a pop- up; Mail from Niyati…..“Adhishri, is this correct?....” . Her mail had a query! All five of us though had never worked together before got along very well and found our selves having time of our lives; a hit combination of different temperaments and thinking. This would be without any doubt the most cherished working and non working time I have ever had.

Morning 8 to evening 8 we stuck our heads to the PCs and took the last bus leaving the premises. The best part of going home was the bus ride, we loved the bus ride…..our driver was a hero. He maneuvered the bus through traffic jams, lazy pedestrians, dogs etc. at a great speed. He never cursed never smiled just drove with all might. Pallavi and I call it the ‘Roller coaster ride’.

On Saturdays we also visited the little cute rabbits and ducks kept in the premises. (We even wondered if there were any deers or such other animals as well. But no, there was no such thing.)

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This was just about the day time. When we came to the room, it was chill time. Weekdays were strictly for laboring and weekends were reserved for shopping. Shopping soon became our addict zone. We’d find out places to shop and had fantabulous time. One fine Sunday we went for shopping, it was Sheetal’s birthday. We were finished with the purchases and window shopping when it suddenly stared to rain. We stopped by in a restaurant to have a bite and couldn't seem to come out of it. None of us had any extra shielding from the rain. So after an hours waiting we just decided to push. As we had merely come out of Main Street, Niyati realized that she had forgotten her shopping bag in one of the stores. Sheetal and I waited getting half soaked and Niyati and Deepti left in search of the bag, only to return completely drenched. That night we just wanted to reach home and slip under the warm sheets. And so we did.

Shopping is a girls religion, one can say. Brand factory, Maysoor Sari, Chick peth we went to many places in search of ultimate quest to quench our thirst for shopping of variety. On the other side our suitcases were getting fuller and bank balances lower. We were gifting our selves for the work we were pulling. I remember this one Sunday I decided to wait on the room and rest. My friends however, continued. In the evening the trio returned Deepti, Pallavi and Sheetal, I opened the door and there stood the three beauties. Pallavi on the right, Sheetal on the left and little Deepti in between. They all stood with amazing poses’ hands curved above head like models displaying their new shopping. It was such a fun! Then we sat on the bed side with the heap of shopping at the center. What a heavenly feeling!

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Food was another savor to our stay. We had all sorts of south Indian food. Kamat to Coconut groove (Pallavi calls it Coconut-Gruha) to Bageecha the spooky garden restaurant, Krishan Vaibhav, Spice Garden, Outpost (here we had the most amazing chocolate mousse and ice-creams) and our favorite New Shanthi Sagar. At New Shanthi Sagar we had coffee and juices and tried all the south Indian and Bhell items on menu (by the way Ragda pattice turned out to be surprise, when the waiter presented us with a single potato tikki dish and chutney in small bowl), another coffee point was Kalmani’s. Since we all were foodies we could taste wide range of food items. We often ordered unknown menus and waited for the delight to come. In the mean time the food was served, we chatted endlessly about anything and everything. We were family to each other. This was the time I truly realized the line between private life and professional life and how easily we can keep one away from the other.

***********

Time and words would be inadequate to put all that we experienced. The hours and minutes and days it all passed by and we kept loading ourselves. Everyone put in her best and completed each bit of responsibility. Finally the day came for departure. As per our plan, we had to split. Three members would be going ahead and two would remain behind to make sure that the work was up to mark as per L and T’s requirement.

Pallavi and I waved Niyati, Deepti and Sheetal byes as their cab stood in front of Bell Air. We all had earned personal rewards made new friends and worked with a team of experts who guided us and gave us all room for improving ourselves. We came from a small enterprise but no where did we fall behind the schedule or commitment. That was all, a feeling of achievement and independence. I believe each of us did a fine retrospection as well.

I feel much pleasure to say that apart from the work, we had a life…we toiled no doubt but also treated ourselves. Food, shopping, chatting, city tours, TV programs; we had it all. And we made friends too.

***********

The Party continues…

Hereafter Pallavi and I had one more important task to accomplish. Not just finish the work but get a grade from client. Mr. Murugan had showered us with compliments on day one it self and we maintained our ‘A’s’ that way. This was another plus on our report cards. No red marks. Two more weeks we stayed. Two more Sundays we shopped and enjoyed what remained of our on site stay. These two weeks I spent looking around the buildings the gardens and roads. Absorbed it all into my memory where it lies as a pleasant remembrance.

The very first day we took a wrong bus and had to change two more to reach our L and T. “Adhishri illa…!!” just say these words and anyone of us would narrate the story.

The 505 bus we waited for and never came!!

Delicious fruit plate we eat in canteen almost everyday.

Brake fast in Bel Air (Especially new years…)

The flute music in the elevator…once we entered the lift and forgot to press Ground floor. The other passenger was too busy smiling at us and went blank when we looked at the electronic display showing floor numbers.

Daily 1 km fresh air marching from Marthahalli to Bel Air.

Special Bhel made with odd ingredients on the hotel room and Sheetal’s fluffy birthday cake…

First flight….

***********

It’s not what happens but what we make out of it…that is important.

Bangaluru came with a dream, a dream to step forward and learn more than what you just see but perceive as well.

I definitely got more from here I hope my friends did too.

I am sitting on a rock under chilling shadow of a tree. Resting after a brisk walk and light jog. I am not tired, but a while ago, I saw this really tiny colorful bird chirping in a nearby bush. Amazing camouflage! I could not take my eyes away. It was covered in velvet, that smooth shimmering costume and unique hopping style. So I slowed down to feast my eyes.

But there is more to captivate me. Just a few steps away, I see a long patch of half dried trees in front of me. Brown barks shading off a few patches of crème color here n there. These trees are cris-crossing from behind each other as if playing hide-n-seek. Clean blue sky color in the back ground. Eye full of live painting. It just won’t move away from my mind. If beauty is in the eye of beholder I would like to behold this picture forever.

And then I wonder what is happening?

What was the first time I laid my eyes on a piece of greenery or ruffling, gushing water of river or a water fall? The first time I saw my reflection in crystal clear water. Moreover, when did I start to feel I was deeply bound with all this? Since very long. Longer than I realize perhaps.

To be very frank it does not stop. I feel fortunate for having this and then suddenly my heart feels a wave of sadness and fear. What if tomorrow I don’t get to see this? It will be like a huge void. Even sad and unlike my true self. And it may sound crazy but when your love for wilderness starts deepening the phase becomes difficult. And imagine the passion that makes you strong and turns out to be your week point as well.

On this path I have hardly come any far....There is more to go ahead for. And with the same hope and will I look at the horizon, its sprinkling new shades into the sky, beautiful as always.

-The Backpack-

When I was in school, I had this bag. A tiny little square vibrant in color. Full of pockets it was usually loaded with books and ‘other’ important stuff. Many years later I discovered it in our store room, lying in the corner. It still has the stains of ink and stubborn chocolate. I lift it and a whole lot of memories came back.
Yesterday I passed the great outdoors store. Full of gazettes of modern mountaineering and trekking. The most striking one I though was the back pack section. I though that my old bag was now is replaced with a modern backpack. Just like old days I am choosy and possessive about it. Yet if a friend needs it I can give it away. Because everything else is understood but you possibly can’t be a backpacker until you have a back pack. Your own backpack signifies your existence and a lot more.
You can be a backpacker at any age. But most of the time, you know it from the beginning. It takes time to grow the thoughts but when you realize it, things change a lot. Being a nomad is like celebrating small time happiness. No matter what, you remember the roads you have traveled and move on positively.
You gift your self a back-pack. And like age wise the clothes seem to shrink; you find the size of the pack insufficient. You buy a bigger and better one. You look at the old once with proud and affection. It is full of all those memories you have had with friends. All those journeys you have done together. Your pack might still have the muddy patches and scratches over it. This pack has your special world in it. For every new road you have a new pack. Every new pack shows your readiness for new adventure.
There are threes kinds of back packs that come in a back packers life; at different stages of his journey. One that he borrows as a young, infant packer. In dilemma between two products probably he doesn’t buy anything at all. And ultimately a friend’s pack comes for rescue. Later it stays in your room for long time. My friends pack is still under my bed.
Then there is your first pack. ‘It has to be perfect’ you think, as you go through the catalog of listing two days pack one day pack etc. When you put the selected one on your back its sturdiness and grip matches your tempo and you make a deal. Unlike other new things that you would want to preserve this one you’d fall in love with so much you land up carrying it everywhere. So much that it becomes part of your identity.
I believe that the third one comes much more later; it’s a grown up packers label. You travel more roads, see bigger and better places, and need more ‘space’. Naturally more memories bigger pack!
And then the special one….your friends bag pack. No matter how much it is stuffed; and the contents within might be poking out; amazingly there is always space to place your extra load. That’s why I say a back pack is equal to a back packer! It can share your challenges hear your stories and tell you some things you want to know.

Rider

RIDER

“All this happened one day, kind of suddenly. I got up and I started to walk. The road was so inviting. I went on marching. Like all this time I was sleeping and just woke up. Then came a stage where my legs would not move, so I decided to ride. And ever since I travel roads after roads; may be till either the fuel gets over or the road ends. Fortunately, neither has gone empty so far. I halt for refuel and if I ever see an end to the road well, always find a service road.”

“In the mornings if I am riding east I see the sun rising on my face. That orangish-red sphere of fire of life, I salute it and go on. And at night when it’s going down asks me why won’t I stop? “But I have to run with the stars and moon”
It won’t complain. It just disappears and sees me the following day and the day after. The wind some times runs with me, trying to race me. But she is too fast. Like a restless and playful child she whooshes from right to left and forth and back. Then, all of a sudden she goes far and hides behind the bush. I just smile and move on.”

“Often do I see folks giving me that look! Some envy some love it, some just look and shook their shoulders. But that does not stop me.”

“That’s why I say, I am a lone rider. I ride at sunset I ride at sunrise. The road I travel on never ends. I ride to see the mountain that peeps from behind another and the one behind it too. I ride to see the river, as she molds her cool blue arms around the mountain.
I ride to experience the season change in front of my eyes, to see the leaves turn green in rain and brown in summer and the flowers laughing a million smiles from above the trees, watch their petals come twirling in slow motion singing when the road is empty.”

“This one time I saw a hitchhiker waiting for a ride. I went to him. He sat behind me and pointed towards the tiny spot at distance. I started the machine. When we reached the village he got down and waved good bye. There found a new road, branching from earlier one.
Kicked the bike and buzz I went, yet another friend to make.”

“So I am a lone rider, I ride may be because I am destined to do so.”
With a click I closed the pen. I had to. The rider was not in mood to talk anymore. He was looking at the setting sun, with admiration pouring out of his eyes, saying bye. Then he moved towards his bike, I saw him mount on that machine. And with dusty clouds behind, he went to check his next appointment with starry night.

play my favorite song**

Like channel surfing, music surfing can be real fun too, particularly on mp3 player. Scenario is like this; biker is struggling to maintain smooth journey on a tough road, I am balancing with a pack on my back and partially agonized because I have already missed my favorite song twice in a rush to forward the unwanted list …humm, these journeys can be real fun. I have to thank these hi-tech creators. A few clicks and the mp3 switches to next song. How on earth; does such a small, finger shaped, multi buttoned and multi-function machine work? Moreover, it has a color screen and fabulous sound system that can change the ambience inside listeners mind. But the best part about mp3 is when I land up bumping on to a forgotten favorite song. Not to forget that it can contain as many as 100’s of them.

On a biking expedition where the biker needs to think road-wise and the pillion needs to stay awake without distracting the biker, an mp3 can come handy. Swirling through the mountainous terrains, small routes through jungles or grass lands and open sky makes a complete ensemble…moreover a fabulous number can create wonders. It tones down the sunrays, and the itchy wind can feel silky. Music can soften the extreme conditions in to a tolerable picture.

So on bumpy ride, I hang on to the seat. Look around and spread my hands to catch some sunrays in my hand. “Great” I say and command the little box to play something special, “let this be the most joyous ride of my life”….and I enjoy each second like it’s my first one. I look upwards and see the huge blue sphere far away. In my ears the words are tinkling and it works like magic. Sunny, rainy, chilled, or just pleasant it works just fine.
If the journey is through night, the fun is doubled. It’s cold and windy, on the high way there may be a few tiny little lights shining on either sides. And the blue sphere on top has dipped it self in to some mystique purplish-red golden combination. After a while when it’s all black and dark there remains only music road and us. The bike is in speed and it feels like life is happening very quietly right over here, so come on “let this be the best of all, play my favorite song”…