My musings and scribbling out of a diary. Many articles are still under work in progress....continue to watch this space!








Sunday, September 14, 2008

Go Goa...

I don’t dig for beaches and in that sense it was an unlikely holiday destination. But the promise of the monsoon rains and the offer at the Taj were enough of a lure for me to drag my parents and head to Goa. It was a not a typical ‘Goan’ holiday - with no beach activities, no visits to century-old churches and no shopping at the colorful markets of Panjim. I slept, ate, watched TV and wrote, following the same cycle every single day. The monsoon did not let me down, as was evident from the frequent darkening skies and heavy downpour. The Fort Aguada resort, where I stayed, is located in Bardez, North Goa with beautiful views of the Portuguese fortress and the beach. The rains combined with the swaying coconut palms and the tall waves were a sight to behold all through.

With nothing much to do one evening, I decided to take a long walk along the shore. But the sea was pretty rough and the monstrous waves seemed to devour the shore. So I instead walked down to the fort to take photo shots of the hazy horizon and the waters beneath. The fort had high walls and extended into the sea. The waves were lashing mercilessly against the outer wall and spraying water on the inside of the fort in full force. With pictures taken in every possible angle, I returned back to the hotel satisfied. One more day of lazing around saw the end of my holiday. Time to head to the Vasco Da Gama station to catch the 2:30 pm train to Chennai! It was a visually enriching 75 minutes drive passing small settlements and backwaters, with the rain coming down in torrents yet again.

Very soon after we settled down in the train, it entered the Western Ghats, I realized that holidaying in Goa is not just about the place, but also about the journey. A good 4 hours of the journey until darkness fell, the sights were captivating. The dense damp vegetation and the innumerable streams led me to fantasize that I was inside a rain forest. The mist hung heavily in the air, and there were also the lush green agricultural fields to add color to the landscape. As if green was not enough, the water in the puddles were dark rust in color, thanks to the mineral rich soil. The train weaved in and out of tunnels, and the constant drizzle was absolutely refreshing. It was as though there was one big canvas and nature was filling it up with sights and colors. The humble Indian Railways train does take on a dreamy look in that weather!

As darkness fell, I settled down to pen down my beautiful experience. This train journey was one of my most memorable that I had ever undertaken in India. Talk of holidaying in Goa, one should undoubtedly travel along the Konkan coast for the unmatched experience.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

The story of Mr. Hop


Once upon a time in Kabul there lived a bunch of Indians in a house. The house was a big one and had a nice garden. In the garden grew big roses and tiny petunia. There was a nice green lawn that had come up after great efforts were made by the cook and gardner called Z. Every morning two persons in the house would go for a walk around the house. Round and round they would go like horses going around in a circle. One was called Amitabh Bacchan because he was tall and bossy and the other was called tak tak as she did things like that-u know-tak tak:-))


One morning AB while walking uttered a cry and stopped in a corner. Something caused him distress. He was sad. He called to tak tak - it was a sparrow in oil. Tak tak did'nt understand and shouted from across - what, what?. AB said that a sparrow has fallen into the oil container kept near the generator and was all oiled up and sitting - all stuck together like someone has glued it up! It could not move. Well, that was the end of morning walk! AB and TT went to the sparrow and looked at it carefully, it was alive but could'nt move. It was a baby sparrow-a fledgling! Now what was to be done? AB said it had to be given a bath with soap and water. TT said it had to be wiped with cotton to remove the oil and then given a bath. Mr Hop listened to the discussion about him, blinked his beady eyes and executed short hops. He certainly didnt like the idea of a cold bath! Brrrr... he thought!

TT went up to discuss the matter with showpari-her roommate. Show pari is the queen of fairies. She was sleeping. TT woke her up and told her all about Mr Hop. SP yawned and said she was scared to touch Mr Hop as he was so small and she was scared she may hurt him. So she suggested that TT wake up Z and ask him to bathe Hop. So AB and TT knocked on Z's door and woke him up. He heard the story of poor Mr Hop and came in to the garden to catch him. Mr Hop hopped round and round a rose bush and tried to avoid being caught. Finally Z picked him up and put him in a blue tub. TT cleaned him with cotton gently. Then Z gave him a bath with soap and water-once and then twice-as there was so much oil on him. Slowly and gently he washed him and removed the stupid black oil from over his neck, head, feathers and tail. Then TT stroked him dry and held him with cotton as he was shivering. Mr Hop had never had a bath with soap and water and he did not like it at all. The soap had got into his eyes and they were stinging. He was hungry and he missed his mom. So he was sad and wet and scared. But slowly as the sun smiled at him and dried his feathers he stopped shivering. Then, TT put him on the grass near a rose bush so that he would be nearer his home.


AB and TT left him there and left to get ready. After two hours when TT was leaving the house to go to office she checked if everything was ok with Hop. He was standing in the sun and when he saw her he hopped hopped away wildly and fluttered a little spreading his wings. TT smiled as that meant he was dry and happy. She told Qala to look after him. Qala rushed to him with some bread and water and promised to care of Hop.


We hope Mr. Hop will get dry and become big and strong and grow up to be a smart sparrow who will not fall into oil again!



Story courtesy - Ms. K, my roommate

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Romancing the rain



As the sky looms like a dark veil
I look up expectantly, craning my neck
I hear the familiar thundering sound
And then the first drop of rain falls to the ground

In the cold drizzle before the downpour
Strolling on the sidewalks unhurriedly
I soak in everything that is so lovely
And so eager for the rain



I sit by the window, flipping pages from my book
The rain is coming down in heavy torrents
My eyes keep glancing over the window sill
To where the rain falls, that is where I want to be


Its past dusk, with no sign of electricity
Wickers burn bright in oil lamps
Forming shadows on the walls
Seated huddled around a hurricane lamp
Eerie stories are discussed animatedly

The night envelopes, and I crawl into my bed
Frogs and crickets croak loudly
While the rain pours unabated
Soon, I am blissfully asleep
For it was the sweetest lullaby


Dawn breaks, with the rain venting its fury still
I walk on rain soaked roads along the beach
The wind threatens to blow away my umbrella
I step on the sand barefoot, gazing at the waves
It is a sight to behold - the sea so furious yet so beautiful

Life seems to have come to a standstill
As if in sheer reverence to the rain
I want to do nothing but laze, so
I curl up inside a blanket with my favorite book
Only to slip into a slumber yet again

The rain takes pity in due course
And tapers down to a light drizzle
The paper boats are ready in plenty
And as I let them in slowly
Some sail down to unknown destinations
While some keep going in circles in water puddles


I smile recollecting all the beautiful memories…….
The excitement when the radio announces school holiday
The refreshing feeling of getting drenched to the bone
The unmistakable smell of damp earth after the rain
The joy of shaking off the rain drops from the trees
Rain brings countless emotions
Bliss, excitement, peace, melancholy
It brings out the child in you, without doubt
Am I left with a choice?


Thursday, May 08, 2008

NaRgiS


Its not long since I have met her
But how well I have come to know her
She can weave magic with her words
And bring things to life with her art

There is such passion in her creation
Sometimes it reflects the pain within
She has a strong personality, no doubt
But also an inner self so true to her name.....Nargis

Wish I could share her burden
Wish I could say some soothing words
But words seem to fail me
How inadequate I felt...

I wish her well for the future
With all blessings showered
For she is indeed to me
A very special friend.