France, friends and more

A year of France..friendships and the world wide network of ‘like-boated individuals’…a wrap up of the year cannot be completed without peeping into the ‘French journeys’ of the year…

So what commenced as a regular ‘training’ program turned into an exhilarating experience..of travels into France…of travels into my mind and quarters that were so unknown to me…of travels into the lives of individuals who live in extreme corners of the world..a journey we all embarked on…

A group of individuals around the world..who came together…and then started patching up..flocking into groups…spreading into a tapestry of friendship and finally ending the year as one big happy family…we started to give more as we never knew we could…we started to take more as we never knew we had..we started to share more as we never knew how much we possessed…we started to know ourselves more as we almost could not recognize the mirror..we started to explore more about others as we never knew boundaries anymore..

And Paris and the charming town of Chantilly played the perfect host to our frequent meet-ups..sometimes shining its sunny magnificence..sometimes sprinkling magical flakes of snow and sometimes pouring us with rainy affection…I literally saw the seasons transform each time I landed in the castle venue of our trainings. I realized that you can never get enough of Paris and the French charms of little towns..the magic never ends in each bite into the buttery sinful croissant..the awe never fades as you see the holy Notre Dame shimmer in the background of starry Parisian nights…the excitement never dies as you see the Eiffel tower sprouting into the sky..the lethargy of Parisian cafes and the aesthetics of its streets grows on you and slowly it creeps into your habits and before I could realize it, I was in love..

But more than the city and the little villages of Normandy that I explored and the elegance of Chantilly, it was the comradery amongst a circle of friends so diverse..so disparate…so geographically spread out that was both stunning and satisfying to me..the dinner conversations that would give me glimpses of life in a small town in Europe..the heart-baring sessions where I saw more of ‘me’ in others and more of ‘others’ in me…the eccentric dancing and music that liberated and entertained like no other experience..at the end of it – I took home a lot more than my souvenirs and course material…more laughs, more tears and a wall of friends whom I could count on…whom I could tear my hair with..whom I could tap into for ‘corporate wisdom’ or simply cherish as a happy memory..

At the end, I knew not whether it was the end or the start to a journey..but this year would be the year of our Venga Bus..of our Venga Boat and of a lifetime of soulmates whom I stumbled upon on life’s journey through 2018.

Rear Views

A spring in my steps, ‘cheer flakes’ brushing my cheeks and the whole new road ahead to conquer and explore! Achievements or disasters, turmoil or stability – regardless of the report card for the year, I cannot but help celebrate and pull up my spirits when Christmas and New year is round the corner!

Perhaps it is the association of years of ‘xmas holidays’, of goodies, of cakes and indulgences, of white snow and feel-good Santa movies that I bingewatched..something about this part of the year when cleansing, celebration and hope mix with the atmosphere and you breathe and inhale the spirit of the season..

A fresh gusto of energy and positivity starts to propel you forward and the 365 days of dashed hopes, grimy roads, political differences and a laundry list of heartbreaks and frustrations slowly give way..slowly and surely, the hope of a new year and the unknown mystery of what it could unfold starts meandering into your existence.

Yes, there are places where the torrential cascades of bitter experiences are difficult to water through..yes there are places where the failed moments of the year overpower the positivity of the season. But the mind is a vulnerable mess at times and it slowly takes shelter under the red, green and white of the Christmas tree, it slowly lets the newness of the new year in - to wash out the unpleasantness accumulated through the year.

Yes, I take stock of the professional battles that I won and lost..some fought from the heart..some from the head..Yes I smile at the memories of road trips and travels that the year took me..snowfalls and mountains..waterfalls and croissants..all weaving a magic of travel memories for me to cherish..Yes I remember the warmth and sometimes wrath of family times..the new friends that crashed into my life this year..the old friends whom I could converse on ‘bad hair days’ to  ‘bad mom’ days…

And as 2018 splutters to the end.. I slowly bury the ‘could have been betters’ into the back drawers of the conscience, pull out the ‘ will definitely do it this times’ from the deep closets and keep it out to be utilized well in the new year..I slow down and veer off the highway of the ‘trying to be successful’ life (terms which take different meanings each day) and look at sunrise and sunset on my own terms..indulge and entertain myself with things most precious…throwing the rigidity of calories, responsibilities and work schedules to the wind..

Call it escapism or selfish joys but I am in it neck deep.. inebriated and unaware of my surroundings..just the twinkling of the Christmas stars around..just the tinkles of the celebrations of the year..’deadline-less’, ‘remorseless’ – yet another Christmas and New Year celebration! 

Nilgiris Calling

The Nilgiris has been unfortunately synonymous with the crowded bustling city square of Ooty. Ooty town has been abused, plundered and ‘concretized’ into a tourist nightmare. And hence we chalked out a vacation into the lesser known and more picturesque neighbouring towns of Ooty..away from the madding crowds..

And so we commenced a road trip that took us through the festivities of Mysore Dussehra into the serene jungles of Bandipur and Masinagudi and finally to the hilly magnificence of the Nilgiris.

Though Mysore was our ‘night halt’ to the ultimate destination of Ooty, we could not help but participate and revel in the celebrations that unfolded on the streets of Mysore. The majestic Mysore palace -  ornate and resplendent almost like a bride awaiting the wedding vows..the crowds – happy and joyous as if in the midst of a family wedding..the streets – decorated and bustling with activities..A sensory magic that we unknowingly melted into and very soon we were one of ‘them’.. We halted to admire the lights and sounds of the monuments of Mysore followed by a cultural extravaganza that unfolded in the backdrop of the palace and finally to fill our tummies with hot, crispy dosas from a sought after street vendor (interpreted from the never ending line of customers)..Our ‘halt and sleep’ schedule was slightly derailed but this was one change of plan that was more welcome than ever..!

The next morning, a sleepy but excited trio bundled into the car on the exploratory drive up the hills..a growling tummy made us stop at a restaurant that unfortunately could boast of its ‘grand signage’ than its food or service..but when the hills are calling, such mishaps are soon forgotten and nothing could shake off our determination to enjoy! The journey itself pleasantly surprising us with unexpected spotting of wild deer, elephant, peacocks and monkeys with white, black and grey faces as we drove through the morning stillness of the Bandipur and Masinagudi jungles. The eclectic mix of chirpy birds, the morning air and the silence of the jungles wafted into the car and we could not help but leave behind the pressures and nightmares of city dwelling.

As we climbed up the hills, the fog and the flowers welcomed us at the various ‘hairpin’ bends and there was a charming lightness that we experienced as we finally arrived at the farm stay property – already cleansed and ready to idle without a purpose. And we could not have chosen a better place than Destiny farm. A place so naturally endowed with an uninterrupted view of Avalanche lake engulfed in the midst of green hills – almost like a postcard painted in hues of green. We kicked started the vacation with a sumptuous lunch where strangely the intake of calories and happiness doubled in the same direction..We were lost in the pastures and beauty that nestled in this property…we sat by the benches, rolled in the garden or simply ambled around to take in the varying sights and sounds of the farm..A joy ride on a handsome horse and visit to the stable rounded off the day and we settled into the starry night as the vast expanse of dark skies intermingled with tiny stars bid us good night.

The next morning, we set out on a trek to the little hills that surround the farm..the long uphill walk to the summit was well rewarded with an astounding view of the lakes and the fauna..the bright morning shades streaming into the lake giving it a sparkle like never seen before! The fresh air and the views kept us spellbound at the top and after a lot of coaxing, the journey back and out of the property had to be completed.

Fortunately, the yearning for the mountain and pine forests were satiated as we drove through myriad small towns of Niligiris..tiny stations, beautiful pine forests, heavenly tea plantations and a string of colourful village houses all framed into fresh yellow, purple and red flowers..the roads winding and turning and each bend blasting off a sight unlike the earlier one. We settled into a beautiful bungalow by evening as the valley and its colours transformed from crimson to a deep black with the shimmering lights of the dwellings below. My Enid Blyton childhood came alive as a cozy fireplace lit up in the room and I browsed through the library and explored the Victorian charms of the bungalow.

A day more of the magnetic hill station and pine trees..a day more of green plantations displaying multitude of shades as the rain and sunshine alternatively caressed them..a day more of idyllic existence..
                               

The ‘last day’ without a choice struck us…so with our lungs filled and souls stirred , a sad but sure drive back commenced.. my ‘mountain’ being rejuvenated..I prepared for the harsh reality of the urban jungle ahead and the obnoxious call of duty and routines.

As the flag unfurls..

Before the tricolor unfurls and the reverberations of the national song dissolve into the air, it is time to pause, reflect and savour the spirit of this country and its freedom.

We may have a handful amongst us who may have been part of the long struggle for independence or witnessed the blood baths on our soil years back. But the larger nation is the one born with the silver spoon of freedom, untouched by the butchery of partition, having only read accounts of freedom struggles or experienced the atrocities of colonial powers through what was conveyed on film reels.

And like any generation that was born into the lap of comforts, we too have been raised as a spoilt nation, unaware of the toil and blood that our forefathers sacrificed for the nation that we call our own. We have been raised with a sense of ‘entitlement’ to our freedom but not with the ‘responsibility’ that comes with this magical power of freedom. Our concepts of nation and nationalism are fudged, malleable, and manipulatable. The dream and passion that wove this country’s fabric together and celebrated the diversity that formed the embellishment to our intricate weave is now under looming threats.

We struggle with identities and ‘reference points’ and anything that deviates from the average is mocked, mobbed, eradicated or simply brushed under the carpet. Inclusiveness is a larger cultural impediment than it was thousands of years back. The rich cultural pedigree that we carry is now being trampled in the face of industrialization and ‘development’ (a term whose scope and definition is questionable).

The passion that fueled a string of provinces to unite into a nation seventy one years back needs to now be rekindled amongst us – for us to stand and fight for something that matters to the larger humanity, for us to contribute to the ambition that we set for ourselves seventy one years back, for us to celebrate our individualism and yet embrace our diversity with the same fervor. Else, before we realize it, we would have fought a full circle to finally reach the start of our pre-Independence.. a divided population that the East India Company encountered years back.

Of course there are strides and leaps that we can be proud of but the pride would be complete if we took the entire nation through this stellar journey – giving every individual and community the chance to participate in this journey and not leaving anyone behind with a deep sense of injustice, discrimination or bitterness. Then we shall finally find peace and growth in the folds of the tricolor!

Friends for the Soul

They come as a motley..sprinkled here and there on your life journeys…spicing up your routine or simply omnipresent through your existence – the umbrella word of warmth called friendship!

Friends who hold your lifeline together -  from the ones with whom you shared your crayons, your ‘first crush’ stories, your ‘hostel bickering’, your ‘career conflicts’ and now to your ‘matrimonial and motherhood itches’ and all that comes in between.

We find them at intersections and promenades of our lives – in that crowded school bus dripping with ice cream on a scorching ‘academic’ afternoon..in the midst of a grueling dance practice..on a nervous college admissions day..while burning ‘corporate midnight oils’ or simply when you wait to pick your kid from school.

Friendship that germinates, roots itself and then spreads its shade over your life – giving you fleeting moments of freedom from the social jackets that we tailor for ourselves..the soothing voice that counsels and veers you off the frustrations that life sometimes throws on you..bringing the ‘fire’ and ‘fun’ elements into the drab that your days sometimes turn into!

Friendship sometimes also fill the fault lines created by blood lines and relationships that got thrust in your life by birth. The perfect panacea for the heartaches and headaches that you invite into your life ‘playing the family person’!

You cannot predict, measure, compare or reason it out – some humans that you chose as the anchor to your life storms ..some individuals you bonded and fused with and cannot still understand why..some buddies who strip you bare of your colour, creed and ‘garbs’ and touch the bundle of emotions that you can simply and effortlessly slip into..

Nungambakkam Diaries - A page torn off..

Of course the point of a CA day is lost on me but what it did do to me was drag me through the streets of Nungambakkam, through the corridors of the CA institute, through the laughs and agonies as taxation and accountancy infused into our beings..

If there ever was an underrated and under-glamourized profession in the world – Chartered Accountancy had to be top on that list..! No one knows about it, no one knows why they do it and no one knows what they do after being one! The unknown being the most prominent parameter of the profession. Keep aside that notion and you wonder why you would never see a character in a novel or a movie being a ‘chartered accountant’? Yes,  believe me I have been searching for it…and barring a mediocre Bollywood movie where the main character was a CA (and incidentally also a psychological wreck), I am yet to come across a solid character?

Perhaps romance and beauty is not something you can associate with the profession – it will need an impossible stretch of imagination to visualize a pretty girl in slow motion as the nuances of accounting standards are being discussed in the classroom. And there is little room to add patriotism or humanity to the CA character (unlike the easy visual treats of a soldier unfurling the flag with blood on his hands or a doctor saving the life of a downtrodden). So obviously writers block would come in the way trying to add drama, romance or comedy to the otherwise lackluster life of a Chartered Accountant.

But I would think with a little bit of sarcasm and irony weaved in, one could imagine a thriller or a tragedy out of a CA’s life? The days and nights of an aspirant – literally starts at the break of dawn – and as the whole world sleeps, an entourage of students swarm into an accountancy class trying to cut through a complex accounting problem. And when students of their age are hanging around on campuses, the CA wannabes are scrambling into their internship schedule to clear a heap of assorted files with work that borders on bonded labour. And come dusk and they are again back to where they began – in a different class trying hard to break off from the office routine and don their ‘student’ hats! If this isn’t inviting enough, try the suspense and heartbreak of passing over the ‘40’ mark threshold to officially announce yourself as a CA – and the cruelty of life that gifts you a 39 and essentially spits in your face and dares you to take the challenge again!

My mind wanders into the nostalgic aroma of white fluffy idlis and filter coffee in Chennai as I downed by breakfast to get ready for the next battle of a class. The simplicity of walking into a class – disheveled and determined in same measure – not caring for the requirements of the ‘look’ expected from a student! The circle of friends who tried to find sparkles in your days of cramming and cravings! The warmth of the voices that support you as setbacks of the profession tear through your confidence! A joyous ecosystem that we created for ourselves – notwithstanding the pressures of a course that can unsettle the bravest ones, the isolation from the usual ‘hip-hop’ campus life of any other professional student and the unrelenting heat of the Chennai summer that drenched you through your afternoon classes!

And at the end of that joyride, I may have forgotten the standards drilled into my brain, I may be rusty on the statutes that I crammed with sincerity but what I hold close to my heart is that experience! The feeling of citrus orange juice soothing me as the sun burnt my skin, the steadfast ambition we all nurtured to cross over the CA hurdles, the unequalled sense of achievement as the screen displayed ‘PASS’ , the no-nonsense relationships we built that were not coloured by bias, manipulation or materiality..all flood into my memory as I turn a page on that chapter – and I can’t help but let that smile brighten my face!

Meghalaya – Come home to the Clouds Waltz

When I thought I would not recover from the heartbreak of leaving behind the mountains of Arunachal, Bhalukpong happened. I almost embraced infidelity when I slowly and surely started warming up to the Khamang river..the white pebbles on the river bank creating a tableau of beauty unbound..there is nothing like waking up to the gurgling sounds of the river…a morning expedition to the river got a little disrupted with ‘elephant’ threats from the locals..and we returned cleansed to dig into a sumptuous breakfast at the resort.

The journey then took us to Meghalaya..and I indulged in adultery as I started forgetting the rustic beauty of Arunachal and getting smitten by the fame and ‘elan’ of this endowed region. She is the one blessed by the fairy god mother – pristine hills, umpteen mezmerising cascades, clean and enchanting villages and of course woman power!

While the entire country is screaming diversity from the roof top, this is a state where the women run every shop, every business and are rubbing shoulders with men in every task at hand! This is a state where you do not need to display your cheap paranoid tourist tactics – bargaining is passé, looting is unheard and none of the villages and sights are doctored for tourist interest but are breathing life spaces! Irony hit me in the face as the trip took us to the ‘cleanest village of Asia’ and we the Indians are clicking snaps of a clean village rather than hanging our heads in shame that we learned nothing from Meghalaya!

The Umiam Lake at sunset is a scenic point difficult to explain..it stood there displaying it’s crimson and red hues ..an asymmetrical patch of vegetation, water and red hills. The next morning took us on a trip to unearth the treasures of Meghalaya including a symbolic touch point at Bangladesh where I stared at the oddity of seeing a ‘Welcome to India’ board.

Riding up hill tops and being surprised with an assortment of waterfalls – not one like the other, each one in its grandeur even on a summer noon. The splendorous sights behind us, we were on an expedition next to walk through the living root bridge – a natural phenomenon so unreal! And if that wasn’t enough, a twisty turny and crawly adventure inside the natural Mawsmai caves was another jewel in this region’s crown. Numerous picturesque villages whirred past…beautiful dames in their traditional attire going about their business…sights to enjoy and behold!

I was in a mistaken state of satiation telling myself that there can be nothing more in store when I went on the last leg of the journey to Chirapunjee or Sohra as the locals know it and the breathtaking views and pastures and pathways that unfolded on this journey made me realize how shallow my trip has dug into this state’s treasures. Sohra in one word is magic and our rustic tit-for-tat for Swiz countryside..I inhaled the purity of it all and had the impossible desire to store it within me for future usage – to counter the battles that city life throws at you.

But of course, silly me and my desires, I sat in the car – letting the wind caress my face, seeing the small villages dissolve into the twilight, smiling at the tiny tots playing untarnished by the devils of the city and breathing in Meghalaya one last time before life and journeys take me afar.

Arunachal – Where Mountains Reign

It is an arduous task trying to encapsulate a trip to Arunachal Pradesh into words. It is a journey more than a destination, an experience more than a trip, a string of towns and villages than “tourist spots”.

It is like road-tripping into a pantomime of changing landscapes – the roads wind into infinity, the fog sometimes sprinkles magic on the windshield, the mist sometimes engulfs the majestic mountain peaks, waterfalls gush out of the rocky terrain at unexpected bends and curves and the stately Kameng river accompanies us through this enchanting journey.

We hopped into the “border” area of Arunachal Pradesh called Bhalukpong where one has to display passes and complete procedures for entry. And then the roads took us uphill into the sleepy town of Bomdila – the fog thickening into an invisible blanket as we checked into the cozy comfort of our rooms. A shivering night and a breathtaking morning waking up to the clouds and mountains and we bid goodbye to the happy faces of the hotel staff.

And then the roads wound into curves and took us through an array of tiny villages – their cute rustic houses bordered with an enviable collection of flower pots, small children playing to their hearts’ content, ladies breaking into stones with their tiny tots saddled in a sling…charming sights that warm you and question your rushed and hushed urban existence.

After a while the villages vanished and were replaced with army barracks, olive green trucks and an army of personnel who guard the country from the border forces. And the moment that I awaited flashed before me – Sela Pass – an isolated haven of snow peaked mountains and frozen lakes..I could not have asked for more as a slight snow erupted with soft little flakes brushing my hair and nose! The hangover of the sweaty days in Bangalore made me scream out in elation and the crunchy feeling of snow in my bare hands was pure bliss found in the summer month of April. Mustering as much courage as I could, I walked, soaked in and enjoyed the icy white landscape and hesitantly moved on to Tawang.

Tawang is a mischievous town of varied weather – as one layers up the winter clothes, the sun would peep out and shine over the valley and mountains. As you step out to enjoy the sun, a mad torrent of rain will come pelting down to chill your bones. As you step out of the comfort of the heated room, a gush of winter fog will get you scampering back. A non-touristy tourist location – it boasts of a 400-year-old monastery that will awe you with its rustic architecture and monks who go about their business. When you tire of the walk and sights of the valley, you can indulge in the yummiest momos and simply rest to soak in the sights and sounds of its charming people and regal weather.

The journey back was equally mystical and we had the luxury of a halt at the picturesque town of Dirang where the river, mountains and houses united to greet us. As we descended into the plains, the rear view mirror capturing the last specks of the peaks and fog, there was an uneasy longing for the mountain, valley and small town charms..I was almost unsure whether I left a part of my soul behind or whether I carried a piece of Arunachal within me as I bid goodbye?

Finding your “manjadikuru”….!!.

What it all boils down to is finding your own “manjadikuru” amongst the thorns and dusty roads of life.

The “evasive” manjadikuru – those red precious things that can lighten up your face..

The warmth and the rarity of finding those “childhood” seeds when you least expect it…

The fun that it evokes as you collect..rumpling up into your dress as a few drop back..

The word “mindfulness” so apt on a morning “manjadikuru” expedition..

The continuous habit of doing more and doing fast leaves us in a blur

A blinding tornado that throws out more dust… that shuts out nature and the little somethings around us..

There is so much more in this world than your blown up troubles and egos ..

So much beyond your financial and economical straight jackets...

Search and you shall find – those little manjadikurus..

Sparkling in a smile from a dear one..

Hidden in the sweat of your yoga mat..

Blended in a tear of gratitude from a stranger…

Melting into that last drop of choco-vanilla cone…

Chirping in a little branch of a tree..

Yes, you can find as far, take home as much and cherish to your heart’s content

Go get your manjadikuru!

Women - Don't Ask

This year has witnessed a series of rumbles that turned into murmurs and finally exploded into screeches – women asking for their space on the planet and flushing out myths that have shaped into gospels in our society…!

But one look back at our history – our Indian history should tell you what is so obvious – that women were in the forefront – walking with (and sometimes ahead of men) in all walks of life..from politics to poetry..from administration to arts..there wasn’t a doubt in their minds to distinguish women from men. So it was but natural that women were emperors of large kingdoms..that women fought battles for ideologies that mattered…that women exhibited their “craftwomanship” with equal ease at painting, music and dance.

The women of India were blessed with an equality that was so in-born that their contribution and participation was a “way of life” – never needing a gigantic push nor needing a powerful pleading for equality..rights that were so alien to Western society -  but what happened in the span of last few centuries & decades?

Why are we now at a precarious juncture where every move is tinted with the over-used “clichés” of “diversity” and “feminism”? Why is there a dramatic exhibition of “womanism” – the never-ending landslides of Women’s Day token appreciations..the “botoxing” of glamour and glitz into every face & phase of a woman..the over the top demonstration of feminism that stays at the flimsy layer of social media?

Why are we pleading and crying ourselves hoarse for something that always belonged to us? Maybe it is the continual erosion that our value system has undergone over the years… the venomous thoughts that have been cultivated into the minds of our men and …the apathy that society has always displayed in the wake of assaults & insults that women have been exposed to! All that has summed up into the imbroglio of harassment & break-outs that we see all over the globe!

So this Women’s day, women - while we manicure our “oh-so-sensitive” finger nails let us also understand that we belong in the truest sense! We are as rooted and as entitled to our space on this planet as the “other sex”..and let us also appreciate that we are as responsible for our destiny and what we make of it..

And to all the men who are trying hard to wish and offer flowers for this Woman’s day…please instead take a moment to reflect why we need a ‘special” day to appreciate the very woman who has given birth to you..who shares the burdens of your life from the break of dawn and the unjust need for her to “ask” for equality when it always was hers to keep, to enjoy and to preserve!

Where history enthralls - Belur and Halebedu

I consider myself vulnerable and open to seduction.. when it comes to history, art and architecture…and so when the talk of a picnic arose..I quickly put Belur & Halebedu on that list to be seduced and mesmerized (yet again) and return as the lovelorn smitten one (yet again)!

And the grand family picnic commenced in a van that had more luggage, food that outnumbered the passengers in the vehicle. And once the journey commenced, my rumbling tummy switched on “travel mode” which essentially meant that a sumptuous breakfast would have to be the first stop! So while we were debating and strategizing on how to save time, we ended up unleashing a culinary onslaught at the restaurant…there is something in the air that makes you overeat and step up the adventure quotient when it comes to travel meals..and I relished the South Indian magic of crispy dosa tangoing with filter coffee.

Tummies full, we started to the first destination of  Halebedu temple at Hassan..a 1000 year old temple that sits amongst the rustic village landscape of Hassan..its architecture astounding and its carvings incredibly intricate…it needs time to soak in the history and meaning of each of the exhibits at the temple. Yet again, it is a beacon of the superiority of the generation that lived before us – devoid of the “automation” that we so proudly believe to be the talisman of our generation – they have constructed structures that are still so beyond the reach of our abilities – in beauty, in size and in stability – these structures have literally stood the test of time, invasion and seasons!

While the sun glistened and brought alive the massive monolithic bull (nandi) – our bodies surrendered to the fury and rushed into the comfort of our van..a sumptuous meal at a local restaurant and we landed at the next jewel at Hassan – Belur temple! And barring the new age “gopuram” that ostentatiously rises above the entrance gate, it is as beautiful and as massive a temple grounds as Halebedu..a vast expanse of stone columns, temples, pond and pillars! We rested our tired and lazy bodies inside the temple – the stone cooling our aching feet with its cold touch and the beautiful carvings lighting up with each ray of sun that entered the sanctum! We ambled around the temple – sitting one time, laughing another - unwinding and awing every moment of time spent at this magnificent historic site.

And as we unwillingly started the walk back, the sun unveiled its glorious self one last time before it set into the horizon! A spectacular performance in yellows and bright crimsons and the pillars of Belur playing its part to the brim – complementing and blending into the last frame that we took home as a token – of the warmth of a family picnic, of the beauty that resides at Belur and of the memory of a day well spent.

The “I” of the storm…Padmavat

There is “paid” marketing and then there is “incidental” marketing and Padmavat is a movie blessed with marketing of both nature in equal measures and after going through the 3 hour long drawn “reel” battle, I am mighty sure that the incidental marketing from all quarters will be the reason if not the “only” reason to watch the movie!

Like the quintessential urban Indian who has been following the drama unfurl over the “I” of Padmavat followed by the rotation angles of “Ghoomar” and many such critical matters, I was dying to see the movie to trace the furore through the reels.

And from the moment it unfolds till the end, my curiosity was left unanswered..and taking out the controversy from the movie is almost like taking the wind out of the sail…the movie falls flat on its face, motionless and extravagant and one leaves the hall tired (it’s a long movie to say the least) and untouched!

If the movie was up for a fashion show or a “tableau” competition, I would vote for it hands down – the costumes are elaborate, every frame and angle meticulously planned and aesthetically conceived – it is a visual stunner without a doubt and I would give it up for the thousands of hands and brains that must have toiled hard to make this magnum opus come alive on screen! One cannot miss the stark contrast of vibrant crimsons and pinks that celebrate the “Rajput good” and bleaky greys and blacks that demarks the “Khilji evil”..from the kohl in Ranveer Singh’s eyes to the figurine on Deepika’s necklace..the effort of the crew of the movie must be as strenuous as the battle it portrays in the movie!

But if we scratch beyond the Indian weaves and massive pillars of Rajput regality, we are left wanting – Yes, Deepika looks every bit a Rajput queen (on second thoughts, it would be difficult not to look it with the elaborate backing of costumes, jewellery and art direction)..Yes Shahid has put up a decent façade of the righteous king…Yes, Ranveer gobbles up the movie through a myriad of scenes, songs and dialogues to cement his “evilness” in the movie…but at the end of the day, the script did not thrill me, the scenes were far too many and after a point I got weary of the constant attempts to remind the audience of the total eclipse of evil that Ranveer tries to portray..and the final straw when the movie finally returned to its roots – that of a Bollywood masala movie…when Ranveer clicks his tongue and gyrates to a song that just knocked off any semblance to “period drama” that the movie was trying so hard to achieve!

So at the end it all, I could figure out that the disclaimer had more lines than credits, that Rajput pride has been upheld and overemphasized in the movie and that Ranveer Singh will walk away with all the accolades for his dramatics and the movie will be hailed as a hit while I walked out of the hall carrying nothing more than the popcorn tub to be disposed off!

Burn, Ban and Block..the Republic of our dreams!

We are  a day away from the “Republic Day” rigmarole of flag hoisting, hunt for the tri-colour accessories and the elusive “white kurta” and logging into the “biggest sale” of them all…in the order of priority of course.

But is this the Republic that our forefathers envisaged and fought for us? Our blood boils for the “I” of a Padmavat but we grow distant when a human is lynched for reasons best known to the murderer. Our over-sensitive sentiments get hurt when one part of a line of a song is broadcasted but our souls are not touched when an infant is molested for simply being born with a vagina.  We can easily overlook the poison in our food and the pot holes in our roads but cannot forgive a “slip of a tongue” or an incorrect tweet. We care for the “historic bordering on imaginary world” spun in our minds but cannot care less for humanity that starves and shivers to death in our country.

The rights and justice lie in the deep-pockets of money and power and if you are not blessed with either of them, you had better learn to wait and die for your turn in the long-winding red tape of justice and bureaucracy. While “amazon prime” can deliver your order in an hour, justice needs to take its time.

The blood that should unite us divides us into segments of inhumanity that nods and beheads at the skip of a hearbeat..it takes only a venomous speech to transform an embrace into a choke ..it takes only a suspicious intent to kill your neighbor..killing never looked easier and flimsier than it looks today!

We oscillate between fiction and facts with a unique skill that is so Indian…on one side we are screaming disruption and artificial intelligence and on the other hand, we are “knee-jerking”  when our individual interpretation of morality is even remotely threatened.

Perhaps this Republic day instead of worrying over the “fancy dress” that you need put up for a function, let us truly make an effort -  to understand what the constitution lays out for us, to appreciate the history and blood that flowed to form the Republic of India, to shed the hide of insincere & external patriotism and drive closer to the soul of our country. “Secularism” and “Democracy” cannot rust and erode over the years and as the flag unfurls and the parade ground comes alive this Republic Day, let us live our Constitution each day rather than kill for it!

Delhi..Capital Indeed!

So, what started as an impromptu conversation turned into a school girls party at the national’s capital Delhi…and when the duo of Delhi and winter beckoned me – how could I resist the offer? So, I put on my “out of office”, pulled out my withered winter clothing, clipped off my strings and flew into Delhi on a crisp Delhi morning..

And while the magic of touring a city with friends whom you last saw in pinafore and braids pervaded the entire journey…the eclectic array of sights, sounds, smells and tastes of Delhi was nothing short of a warm xmas gift wrapped neatly in the Delhi fog white..

Charm is the one word that comes to my mind as I savour the memories of the weekend in Delhi…charm that can astoundingly oscillate between old heritage and new chic with an ease that only Delhi can boast on. On the one end, you can admire and appreciate history that is ornately inscribed into its forts, monuments and ruins..heritage that will stimulate your pride and humble you in one stroke. At the other end, you can gawk at its quasi European pubs, cafes, well dressed gentlemen and absolutely “high fashion” dames of Delhi…their winter scarves tied to the perfect knot…their uptown squares where wealth and pizzazz unite…the one place where you can literally wear your khadi or cashmere on your sleeve!

The heart of Delhi is almost like a “model” apartment, like a “showstopper” built for applause..the India that you can encapsulate into a “developed” image for the global audience…plush government establishments and residences..wide avenues shaded with trees…highways and pedestrian walkways..you feel almost cheated as an Indian who has been impoverished of all “developed” necessities. By no stretch of imagination can you imagine the entire country built on the same lines so if you must experience it, you must indeed visit the capital region. The beauty and symmetry of the various “Margs” of Delhi is so astounding that it almost instills a sense of “inferiority” into your impoverished existence in a pseudo-city like Bangalore.

And if there was a possibility of staging a multi-act gastronomical musical, it would debut in Delhi for which other city can lay out such a “scrumdiddlyumptious” variety of dishes? It will make you forget your “calories journal”, it will make you sin and it will make you a foodaholic who will pine to return to Delhi just to savour that "aloo tikki" once again!

But all good things must end and the best of them must be cherished..and so as I sipped my ginger tea the piping steam dissolving into the Delhi dusk…I cherished..the friendship that rekindled on the journey, the “girlie” times on Delhi shopping streets, the tryst with history and culture in its dargahs and forts ..making a silent promise to come back for more!