Progress Indicators !

A new mall has opened up in Delhi.

How is this different ? Well, this is the first BIG mall to open in the city (all the rest are in Gurgaon, and mostly quite small). It is located in the prime Saket district, previously famous for the PVR cinema complex (Buzz anyone ?)

You cannot really differentiate it from any other mall in any other city in the US. And if you consider the bay area, you may find that the ratio of Indians to White Folk might also be very close ! There are a lot of the same brands (though the prices are probably double what you would pay in the US).  The standard food court. Teenagers wandering around aimlessly, trying to look cool. Fashion conscious middle aged women hoping to score bargains. Curious girls getting free make-up at the cosmetics stores. There is a piano in the central dome, which plays that cheesy automated mall music at all times.

But if you look at the roof, you will spot the imprints of two feet through the translucent plastic. And a plastic hose snaking towards them. This is the menial who is cleaning the roof from the top. And you will also notice the retinue of bag carriers that follows the more prolific shoppers. And the security folks in their peaked caps – trying to portray a sense of authority that vanishes at the first instance of confrontation (you never know – the person they are trying to stop might turn out to be powerful enough to buy the whole mall – and he will let them know about it too !). The trunk  of your car is checked when you enter the parking lot, and the underside is inspected with a mirror. There is a kids corner, where you can literally check-in your brat  (you get a claim ticket) and uniformed ayahs will make sure they don’t kill themselves.

I bet some people have deliberately lost the claim ticket.

They have left a lot of landscaped open space. And well maintained. I bet this will be a popular spot for a afternoon beer in the winters. I will see you there !

(written offline while in Chandigarh, disconnected !)

Anniversary ?

I totally forgot about it ! Its been more than an year since I first started this blog. That means its been more than a year since I moved back to India.

OKOK .. I know .. I have spent more time outside India since then, but its in Delhi that I have spent the most cumulative days.

In this time, I have :

• started and quit a job (I would count it as a job, though i was not getting paid for it, and was on the executive team). and unwillingly discovered how painful it is to get quality work done in India.
• changed my country of citizenship (I am a US citizen now)
• discovered a lot more about my true nature, and discovered that the discovery has just begun!
• been involved in my FIRST major (relatively) auto accident, where I was at fault (was a little sobering) (figuratively, not literally)
• traveled to 4 different continents. and about 8 different countries.
• gotten some of my pictures printed for the first time. and realized that physical copies are much for satisfying than mere electrons.
• been surprisingly addicted to a social networking site, for the first time in my life. there is something to facebook.
• re – acquainted myself with a lot of my cousins, and most of them are surprisingly cool. and some extended famliy as well.
• become more involved with my family than I EVER was (dont know if its good or bad)
• probably consumed some intoxicant or other on about 90% of the days (definitely bad)
• consumed inordinate amount of an intoxicant on about 50% of those days (when you do it, go for broke)
• heard some advice on getting married about a 100,000 times. from unexpected sources. including random strangers i meet for the first time. and most married friends.
• worked out regularly for about 80% of this period. and eaten healthy (mangoes, sweets and aloo paranthas dont count)
• realized that the worst thing one can do ion life is to take oneself too seriously
• came to the conclusion that the quest for perfection, though a noble pursuit, can take too long. good enough is usually good enough. usually !

Wouldn’t have had it any other way !

Caveman Mode

I have realized that whenever I am faced with prolonged physical adversity, I tend to go into what I call my “caveman mode”.  Now before I hear any smartass comments like “hows that different from your normal life”, and “what about mental adversity”, let me expound on both.

First is medical situations. The latest example is the tooth problems I am having. It has involved one gum incision, one root canal, and a week of antibiotics, which is in essence a no-alcohol period (well, almost). And the fact open cuts in the mouth do not take very kindly to smoke means that I cannot partake of my favorite grand daddy also.

But it also includes situations like camping, trekking, long drives .. any situation in which the body is under more than average stress. (Average in my case has recently been quite low, I must admit)

The first reaction to all such situations is to let my hair grow (ok .. whatever I have). I feel that all the needless energy spent in shaving should go towards recuperation. (Case in point : my bearded facebook profile picture is from when I had my MCL tear).

The second is a greater tolerance of clutter and rubbish around me. For obvious reasons, this is mostly seen in the “roughing out” situations. For example, I would not hesitate to sit down on the road and eat with dirty hands. Or to gladly consume some barbecued chicken that had the misfortune of falling off the grill. The five second rule still applies, and there is nothing that cannot be re-sanitized by a healthy alcohol wash.

It is a somehow liberating feeling to ignore most artifacts of a first world civilized society and let yourself go once in a while. First time I realized this was in Burning Man. Even in the hostile climate, we were following some decorum. One day, I was sitting in a tent, drinking bloody maries, and the water truck came along. Something (well, seeing other people do it is one thing ) prompted me to take of all my clothes and run after it, trying to get cool in the shower. After that, I did not feel the need to wear clothes any more, or to generally be as picky as we usually are.

So anyway, I am in caveman mode now ! If you can smell me from afar, let me know – I might condescend to some deo !

Another train journey

Some time ago, I had posted an account of a journey in the european train system, the ICE and TGV. A couple of weeks back, I had the pleasure of experiencing the darker side of the Indian Railways .. the biggest rail network in the world.

When I normally travel to Chandigarh, I use the Shatabdi trains, which is the premium train category in India. It gets the highest priority in terms of service, routing, and is hardly ever late. It runs from Platform 1, so you never have to go looking for it. On this particular day, the train was sold out, so I decided to take the Jan Shatabdi (literally, people’s Shatabdi), which is a lower class of train. I was traveling with my aunt and uncle, and my illustrious sister. I booked the tickets through the internet (c’mon .. we atleast have that facility in India) in the A/C coach (yes, not all coaches in Indian trains are A/C), and wrote down the coach and seat #s on a piece of paper.

The train was at 3 PM, and we were dropped off at the station at 2.45 by my cousin. I looked at the boards to see what platform our train was departing from, and could not see the name of our train (In India, trains are usually referred to by names, e.g. Chandigarh Jan Shatabdi in this case, rather than their numbers). Surprise ! No train by that name. There was ONE train, leaving at 3.00, from platform 9, but it was named Nangaldam Jan Shatabdi. I had no clue where Nangaldam was, all I could think of was that I had made a mistake. Interestingly, the number of the train was what I had on my paper. “I have booked us on the wrong train !” was my thought.

Ah ! Go to the inquiries counter to find out. A line about 50 people long greeted us. No info for us. Atleast today. Well, lets just walk to Platform 9. But hold on, on Platform 1, right in front of us, is standing a train, the board on which says “Nangal Dam – Chandigarh – New Delhi – Dehradun”. Now I see whats happening ! The train actually goes to this place called Nangal, even beyond Chandigarh. Must be something new, because the train I remembered was only till Chandigarh. No worries, everything is fine, and we go and find our coach. I look at the seating chart attached to the coach, and cannot find our names. “Its an old chart, dont worry”, announces a helpful bystander.

I should have known right there. “Helpful Bystander” is something you have to beware of in India. Every bystander has an opinion, and tries to be helpful by imparting this to you in the form of knowledge. I was in a hurry, ignored this wisdom, and we took our seats comfortably. In about 5 minutes, we are approached by a woman who claims that the seats are hers, and presents her printed ticket as incontrovertible proof of the fact. I have to give it to her. Maybe we are in the wrong coach. I run down to the other coaches to find our names. Nopes.

I come back, open my laptop, look at the PDF containing our ticket details. No mistakes. So of course, I blame the railway reservation system, and decide to take it up with the ticket inspector. Meanwhile, there are plenty of seats, so I am not really worried.

Another woman comes by and asks me an innocent question : “Does this train go to Dehradun ?”. In retrospect, this is the EXACT question which I should have asked in the first place. I confidently laugh at her, and say “No, it goes to Chandigarh.” This seems to upset quite a few of our fellow passengers, and they immediately point out to me the error in my understanding. Suddenly everything is clear. This is the same train, going in the OPPOSITE direction !!

First thing we do is collect our baggage and get off. At least we have avoided going to Dehradun ! Our train was the one we saw on the board in the first place, leaving from Platform 9. As the time by now is 3.15, I am pretty positive that we have missed it, and pull out my phone to call my cousin back to pick us up. Ruchi still wants to give it a shot. OK, we have nothing to lose. We load up with baggage, and climb the stairs for the overbridge to Platform 9. It is really crowded. I amble across, not contributing to the general shoving going on, as I have no hope now. Somehow we reach, and I take a peek at whats there. Lo and behold, our train is still there. And as soon as I take that peek, it starts to move !

Our trains are not the kind that have automatic doors, which close 20 seconds before leaving. I give a shout, calling the troops to rally, and we run ! Luggage first, then my uncle, then my aunt, then Ruchi, and finally even I am on board. This was the first piece of luck for us, we were actually in our designated coach. Elation.

The coach is dark, and hot as an oven. The A/C is not working. The batteries in the coach are not charged. People are standing in doorways to get some air, as the windows are sealed (usual for an A/C coach). Combined with the exertion of the last few minutes, this is enough to have sweat pouring down my back. But we are on our way to Chandigarh at last. This time I do ask :-)

Epitaph: The A/C did start working in 20 mins, and the train did arrive well in time, inspite of starting late.

Introducing ..

I have been keeping my “other” blog as a small side project, and I think i will put it to better use now. I am planning to put down all my “thoughtful” blog posts there, which, going by the track record, are few and far between. This old faithful will be reserved for the “activity” posts.

I have been prompted to do this by some feedback from friends, who have actually liked some of the more philosophical musings posted here.

again, the address is http://kontaminate.blogspot.com/

Paris Je t'aime

I have spent more time in Paris than in any other European city. I have been there 4 times, including one winter in 1998 which was my first ever trip abroad as a young consultant. I have always been pleasantly surprised by the city, and have never felt the rudeness that is attributed to the French.

I booked a train ticket from Augsburg to Paris, and was a little apprehensive about the 5 minute connection time in Stuttgart between the ICE and TGV. (Observation : when the ICE train came to the platform in Augsburg, I saw the driver. He was the poster boy of german efficiency, standing straight, no smile, eyes straight as he bought the train to a stop within 13 seconds of the expected arrival time) . Anyway, i think i should have know, the ICE arrived at the exact time in Stuttgart, and even the coaches were lined up so all i had to do was just step across the platform to the TGV. This was the "TGV Est", the pride of the French railway system, with top speeds going up to 320 km/hr on normal routes (It has been run upto 350 km/hr on tests). So there Dani, it does beat the ICE in some sense !! Traveled through some amazing scenery, which i tried to capture on the camera, with very disappointing results.

Reached Delphine's house, which i found is right next to the Moulin Rouge. And the "La Loco", which is a club i went to, the second time i was in paris, in mid 1999. Used to be a really grungy club at that time, with great music. Now, just like any other snooty club. I also found out that the strip club section in Paris is also right there (Got the hint the first time a woman on the street tried to talk to me and pull me in. They are very aggressive in their marketing, the French).

Her place is on what she calls the "food street of Paris", with great cafes and food shops. And has great views, mostly from the staircase !!

Some street festival in her "Rue"

Foodwise, i was trying to eat a little healthy, which meant switching from "litres of beer" to "bottles of wine" as the unit of consumption. (Observation : There is so much style associated with smoking in Europe. Which is probably the reason they smoke so much. This was at the sight of a woman sitting at a cafe, holding a Marlene Dietrich like pose with a cigarette in her hand).

Had an excellent french meal on Friday evening with Deplhine, Dorothy and Tibo. In an area which is mostly a student hangout, and as Delphine likes to point out, where she used to go all the time as a student. Had an option to go to Rolland Garros the next day, but nixed it in favor of a relaxing time with the sisters.

On saturday, walked down to the latin quarter (passing the river on the way). Bought back many memories of the 2006 summer that I spent there. Had mint tea at the great mosque, and then went to see "Darjeeling Limited", another one of Wes Anderson's great works. And noticed TP Abid in the credit lines. The first part of the movie, and Jason Shwarzman's dialogue with Natalie Portman, is just priceless.

Delphine had a big dinner planned to that night at her house, so the evening was spent prepping for that. An excellent 5 course meal was had, with about 3 bottles of wine consumed. And as wonders never cease, Delphine actually asked for a second helping of the beer, and then two (yes) glasses of wine. We talked till 3 AM, when I realized that I had a 8.24 am train to catch.

Woke up next morning with the alarm at 7.00. Snoozed will 7.30. Realized that i was supposed to be OUT of the house at 7.30. Managed to leave the house at 8.00. Now I realized that I had NO subway map, very little change, and very little money overall. So taking a taxi was also not an option. But I did manage to dig into the deepest pockets in my bag and discover just enough Euros to pay the 1.50 fare.

Was very very lucky to catch both my subway connections. The right ones too. Reached the station still drunk, but did manage to get on. Will this ever end ? The entire melodrama of trying to catch an early morning train/flight after a long night of drinking ? I hope not !!

And I was off to Zurich.

Images Of Augsburg

Dani Apt Detail	In front of Capitol
Town Square	In front of Capitol

Ze Deutscheland : part4

The last evening was supposed to be a quick beer and hamburgers. Dani and I started a little earlier, as usual, with vodkas at home. And then comes this dude with the most infectious laugh. Hello Gerhard ! Who might have singe handedly changed my opinion of german humor (or the lack thereof)

You have to laugh at all his jokes. Because he himself will lead the charge, and there is no way you can avoid a hearty guffaw. So the four of us (inc Tobse) continued with some beer on Dani's balcony (now feeling even smaller), and then repaired to the cafe across the street. As our first Kleins came out (i ordered a normal lager for once, having already had 2 weissbeers at the plaza in the afternoon), we noticed this rather strange looking guy park himself on a table next to us. He heard us talking in English, and surmised (quite correctly) that at least one of us was not german. So he started talking to us in broken english, and enthusiastically recommended that I, as a visitor to this land, try the Hefeweizen. I explained that i had already had 2 in the afternoon, but he insisted that he buy another one. I don't know what passed between Tobse and him, but i assumed that he had been informed of this, and it was kinda confirmed as after a while he left the place (without having a drink himself). He looked a little drunk, very much like a san francisco bum.

Then when we ordered our next round, we were quite surprised when the waitress told us that he had bought that round for us. Now things like this simply do not happen in Germany, where people might have to wait for several years before feeling the need to buy someone else a drink ! So i guess we can consider ourselves lucky, our only regret being that we were not even able to thank that dude !

So we had our excellent hamburgers ( i assumed they were, because after 2 vodkas, extra strength, and 2 beers, most all food tastes good ). And we were joined by these 2 folks we had seen in the beergarden the previous evening. They were part of a local band. But only the drummer and keyboard dudes, because we could have used their vocalist. Because by now Gerhard and me had bonded over our common love for singing while drunk. And cheap one liners (me more as a listener)

So Gerhards favorite pickup line : These pants must be space pants, because baby, your ass is out of this world.

more (probably) bavarian sayings from the very same person:

One man : one word. One woman : one dictionary

Hard liquor makes you drunk quicker (when dani ordered a whisky sour instead of beer)

Better sitting in the wet than celebrating in the dry (when it was about to rain) (dry is a euphemism for no alcohol)

There were more, and I have Gerhard for them, but he says that he will another six beers to be able to remember them. I am waiting man. I am assuming your next six beer night should not be far away. Here is a moment that dani was able to capture.

So we were talking about this girl who was in Tobse and Gerhard's class, called Mela. And how she never needed to study hard, as she was quite pretty. And who had been around the place, as they say. All four men were exchanging knowing smiles (now pardon me if i got this part wrong, because by now we were all quite drunk, and conversation by now was strongly leaning towards german). Suddenly, the woman herself walks by. With her boyfriend. She did accept our invitation to sit down and have a pint. or 500 ml, as they would have here. The boyfriend did not seem very friendly, and she was also kinda uncomfortable (so it seemed) to have her boyfriend sitting at the same table as her old college buddies.

Anyway, as Dani said, this was a very atypical german evening. But greatly enjoyed by all. Total alcohol consumed by yours truly : 2 vodkas (large), and 5 beers. including 2 free ones. Cant complain !

Next day Dani took the morning off to drop me off at the Hbf. And thus ended the greatly enjoyable german leg of this trip. I will be writing about the first 2 parts later. Promise.

Update : I forgot to mention, that at one point of time, the song "Noorie" (remix by Bally Sagoo) was playing in the bar. Talk about just adding to the weirdness of the evening.

Ze Deutscheland : part3

So these posts will be a little weird chronologically .. I am doing the parts that I feel I remember more about. In this case, it will be the Augsburg portion of the Germany trip. Part 1 was Berlin, and part 3 was Munich, which will come later. Yes, I keep promising these "later" posts, but they hardly ever happen. Well, sue me ! I own this blog, and retain the right to be as lazy as I want to be.

Anyway, I took the IC (2nd in rank after ICE, but before RE/RB) train from Munich to Augsburg Hbf (stands for Hauptbahnoff, or main railway station) on Sunday the 25th. What I did not realize was that I had to reserve a seat also .. and had to spend the entire 40 mins journey sitting in the space between the compartments. Not a big deal, but did bring back some memories of Indian Railways journeys in unreserved bogies.

I had had 2 litres (yes) of beer in Munich, and that also made the journey bearable. I was kinda dozing so was glad I could get off at the right place. Train was 5 mins late (causing a majority of the germans on board to grumble about the deteriorating state of their railway systems - or maybe they were just having polite conversations, i could not tell). Dani was a very welcome sight on the platform, and Tobse even more as soon as he informed me that we would be heading to a beergarden for dinner.

This was again turning out to be one of those days where you are surfing .. on a high. Had another litre of beer, along with some great schnitzel (Dani - I am counting on you to correct me in these matters). Caught up with each others lives, and with those of various acquaintances. Gossip, philosophy, lifestyle were all discussed, continuing into the night at Dani's lovely apartment over vodka.

Dani had taken the next day off, so we started the day with a great Bavarian tradition : Weiss beer and white sausages for breakfast (I love Bavaria, reason # 3). We walked down to the town square through these cobbled alleyways, with small canals running alongside. Love these small european towns. After that, just wandered aimlessly (well, the aim was to discover the next drinking place) around town, drinking more beer/coffee. Went into the church where Dani's parents had gotten married. Saw Lia's old apartment. "And we talked about some old times, and drank ourselves some beer, still crazy after all these years" (Paul Simon)

Tobse volunteered to cook some excellent Thai noodles for dinner, which we had (with candlelight, mind you) on the smallest balcony to have ever seated 3 people. Next to the flower beds. On newly laid wooden tiles. Yes, Dani is officially a Spiesig. I did not say it. Its straight from the horse's mouth.

Woke up really late the next day. Puttered around, catching up on email and stuff. Went with Dani to her parents' place in the evening. Was great to see them (and this time was actually able to talk to them, because the last time i was stoned to my gills). Had some excellent bread with sourcream. And of course, more beer. Basti (her brother) (Dani, I hope i have the name right) announced that he was supposed to take part in a radio sponsored contest on Thursday. A sort of walkathon. I have never before met anyone who has participated in any one of these contests. Check one off the list. I think he liked me, as he decided to grace us with his presence at the beergarden (did i mention that tuesday is again beergarden day ? did i say that i like Bavaria ?) that evening. He is the first German i met who speaks english with an american accent.  American media will one day rule the world.

After Tobse came home we walked to the other beergarden. on a hill. with walls where people sit and almost vertical drops. I wonder how many folks have fallen backwards. I guess not enough to be able to threaten the popularity of this serious beer drinking establishment. Julia joined us there (Hi Julia).  It was a Reif family bonding session ! Dani had to go home because of a headache, but Basti, Julia and I decided to continue on. We went to the town center, where Basti pointed out all the cool spots, and seemed to know all the cool folks. A hi to a cute girl here, a flirt with a waitress there. I think he is doing well in the Augsburg social circle. Quite a cool guy actually, told me everything there is to know about the happenings in this town.

Julia bought this very nice looking girl with her called Michelle (pl excuse the american spelling) (and the possible beer goggles). Who I later found out hates Dani. And is quite conservative, and is studying Christian theology. (Another check off on the list : meeting someone studying religion). Did manage to shock her with some of my remarks on gays and lesbians, but in my defense, she started it. The evening ended with the ideal food for the occasion : Doner Kebabs ! Yum !

The last evening deserves a whole post of its own, and this is one i will definitely do. Because I will introduce a very entertaining personality, along with some (apparently) Bavarian aphorisms. Tcheuss for now.

Toast

On this wedding, I was being asked to give a toast (goaded on by Navin, as usual). Better sense prevailed, and I did not.

But, here is something that I saw the next day, which could have been hilarious (or we could have been thrown out) (Courtesy XKCD, my favorite web comic)

(Click on the picture for a bigger version)

In Londres !

When Navin and I were in Brazil in Dec 2006 - Jan 2007, we met these 2 british girls in Ilya Grande. They were staying in the same pousada as us.

Of course, Navin fell deeply in love with one of them. Only because falling in love with both of them would have been a little impractical.

 

We first saw Gemma walking down from the pousada to the beach.

Navin : "Wow ! she is one hot woman !"

Me: "Yeah Dude !"

Navin: "Be careful with where your thoughts wander. She is your future sister-in-law !"

 

Anyway, we got to know them better, and discovered that they were a riot. Spent 3 days with them ( inc many sessions of "two truths and a lie", fish with passionfruit sauce, and one instance of being chucked out from a karaoke place). And promised to meet them in Bahia again after a week.

Madhu was with us by that time, and we again had a blast there. Except for the time when Navin was developing hives. (the girls were supposed to arrive that evening, and he did not want to be seen in that condition). We went to the Bonfim Church, where you tie ribbons around your wrist and make a wish. You are not supposed to untie it, and when it falls off on its own (rotting away), your wishes are supposed to come true.

Becky asked us all to make a wish on her behalf - that she would find a life partner. We did. I will not comment on who all kept their ribbons as long as possible, but suffice to say that the wish did come true, and we heard that Becky was getting married on the 3rd of May.

(There are many a story from that trip, but I will leave that to some other time)

So, that is how we landed up in London, to attend Becky's wedding.

 

Back to the Present.

Madhu and I landed on Friday, the 2nd. Me at around 6 PM. Navin had us booked at the Andaz Hotel in Liverpool St (nothing but the best for his buddies !) Religiously following the directions on the hotel website, I took a cab from Paddington, spending an extra 20 pounds and 20 minutes than I needed to. Navin, Noura, Leon and Madhu were already there. We had some beer in the local pub, and started discussing plans for the evening. Navin and Noura volunteered to go get some smokes (wink wink) while the rest of us tried to look for a spot for the evening.

We walked down the street, stopping at many a pub (and patronizing all of them - we are not very discriminating in that sense). Ate at a shawarma place. Basically spent about 2 hrs wandering around. When Navin and Noura came back with the stuff (bless their souls), we decided to go to this one place called "  " (I am blanking out here .. someone please fill me up on this). Bar downstairs, dance floor upstairs. Basically a remodeled old pump factory. We smoked some in one of the shadiest allies around, and basically chilled out till about 3 in the morning. And then back to the hotel, where I had the dubious honor of having to sleep in the middle of the bed between Madhu and Leon. Not a night that I will want to repeat in a hurry. And oh .. BTW .. we realized that the wedding is next morning. In Sussex (which according to Leon was a small town you could walk across in 10 mins. He meant Essex). At around noon. And we have NO clue on how to get there. But thats ok .. we will figure out in the morning.

It was I (yes .. ladies and gentlemen .. believe that) who woke up the earliest next morning. Not being able to sleep between two other people had nothing to do with it - it was a sense of responsibility that made me do it. I coaxed Madhu into taking some action. We found out that Madhu DID have an email detailing the times and places. We were supposed to reach Cowden, Kent at 1.30, not Sussex at 12.00. A big relief. The travel desk told us that there was a train which would get us there in time.

Navin had been making some inquiries on his own. Like trying to hire a car that would take us there and back (for only about 400 of the Queen's dearest sterling). And he had then proceeded to get the train timings also. For Sussex. This was sounding more and more like a scene from "Four weddings and a funeral".

We did manage to get to the station on time. I bought the tickets (OK ... I did ask for tickets to Kent, not knowing that it is a county, not a city, but Madhu quickly came to the rescue). And, dressed in our Sunday finery, we reached Cowden, Kent. We got off from the train (there were only the 4 of us who got off  there), and started walking out to get a cab (surely, there are always cabs outside the station).

For anyone who has not been to these quaint english hamlets, they are indeed so. Including the sleepy little railway station, and no cabs. Was a surprise for us too. All we saw were these 2 matronly ladies in a mini-van. We bid them a fair day, and asked how one might proceed to the local church. Its a nice walk, they said. About half an hour. I think our dropping faces incited one of them to politely offer us a ride, which we promptly accepted. She was a bit taken aback, for I assume that in english countrysides, there is an etiquette about this, which i guess involves a couple of "Please dont bother" and "No bother at all".  We fit in the minivan (which i think was rigged for carrying sheep at that point), and the kind soul dropped us off at the village church.

The actual rendezvous point was a small pub about 5 mins from the church (I was beginning to like the Brits already. What an idea .. get some liquid courage before stepping into the house of God). We ordered some Cider (we had discovered this wonderful drink just the previous night) and proceeded to occupy a table in the amazing weather outside. Met some aunts etc, but were basically looking for some privacy to light up. Which we did at the end, when the rest of the wedding party had been shepherded to the church. So we did enter the church in a state of grace, feeling a bit closer to God.

The ceremony proceeded well (with me trying to sing along to "Amazing Grace" in a nice baritone, and getting evil eyes from the relatives). Whenceforth we proceeded in a coach to Sussex for the reception.

The reception was at Becky's sister's house, which at some point used to be Winston Churchill's residence. Suitably awed, we proceeded to toast the occasion with some champagne, and then some more, and then some Guinness + champagne combo. Chatted with friends and relatives, mingled in good society, stealthily snuck off for a refresher on the smoke in the shadows of Winston Churchill's one time barn.

Dinner was quite nice. Gemma sat on our table, as did some more interesting folks. I held a long conversation with this one couple on marriage, children, freedom of expression, choices in life, and a myriad other topics. I think it went well. Atleast the couple did not stand up and walk away. Till the dinner ended, atleast.

Much wine was drunk. But by this time we were getting a little anxious about making our way back to London. Gemma (what a nice woman !) made the necessary arrangements, and ordered a cab to the station. We went out to the street - No cab. 5 mins pass. Nada. This was one of the lonesome country roads that have been sung about, and nary a vehicle was in sight in any direction. Finally a car came along. We stopped it, and even though it was not our cab, we convinced the driver to drop us off at the station.

He dropped us at the WRONG station. But, no worries, we did catch the train. Made it to London. Went out dancing again with Leon and his chick friends from the Indian YMCA (yes) in London. But that is another story (or not).

(all picture credits go to Noura)

Choices ...

I was really getting inspired to write up my thoughts on the sanctity of life (overhyped, in my mind), the concept of good and evil, and some other very philosophical topics.
But then I came across some downloaded knowledge material on my laptop. Specifically, the documentary called "The Truth About Female Desire". This is BBC documentary about a study conducted by the Kinsey Institute into female sexuality.
This was a point in life where every man has to make a choice. And I made mine. And the blog post will be coming next week. Because right now, I am.

soooorrryyy .. bad Pun !

P.S. : The videos have been taken off from google video, but can be found on many bit-torrent sites. For newbies to this, just download the uTorrent client and install it. Then go to mininova, and click on "Download this torrent". uTorrent should automatically pick it up, and start downloading. Its about 1.6 Gb.

Rites of Passage ..

... through the airport customs, in this case.


On my recent trip back to India from SF, I was carrying some stuff for people, including a macbook pro. I had my own laptop, and my camera+lenses. It has been a while since I have had trouble with the legendary Indian Customs folks, but this time I was a little bit apprehensive, as I did have stuff that would be over the legal limit. And sure enough, as I went to pick up my baggage from the belt, I saw the dreaded white chalk marks on both my checked bags.

This is how it works : They x-ray the luggage as it gets on to the belts from the plane, and mark anything they see as "suspicious" in terms of dutiable goods. These are white chalk marks, and savvy travelers are often seen carrying a damp cloth to wipe these off. I have previously had these marks, but have managed to situate my luggage on the trolley in a way that they were not visible to the folks at the customs counter. But there was no escaping this time, the marks were on both bags, and had been done shrewedly enough that there was no way to hide them.

Interestingly, other hangers-on (a multitude of people doing nothing is a common site at any indian govt institution) had also seen the signs, and I started getting offers of "help" ! This basically means that for a small amount of money, this person will make sure that the customs folks dont look too carefully at my bags. I have a slight aversion to these people, and the way they slimily operate, though I am not totally averse to the idea of paying some money to save me some hassle. I know the logic is impeccable .. but dont ask me to explain !

I rejected all these advances, and started walking towards the exit. I was almost through, when this one young fellow quickly spotted the marked bags, and asked me to get them x-rayed again. I followed him, and put my stuff in the machine. My first bag had my camera, and I told him so.

Him : "What kind of camera ?"
Me: "Its a SLR with 2 lenses. I have owned these for a while, and take them with me everywhere"
Him : "Hmmm !"

Then we got to the second bag. I told him that I had a small camera as a gift for someone, and a small pen tablet. I did conveniently forget about the 24" LCD monitor and the macbook pro. Well, I did pack my luggage about a week ago, and had had many a druken revelry since then. I think I had a legitimate excuse !

At this point he thinks he has enough to extract some money out of me.

"How do you want to handle this Sir ? The camera and lenses are worth quite a bit, and we will have to charge duty on them"

I should have left it at that, given him a C note or so, and gone my merry way. But again, I wanted to justify myself.

"How can you charge duty on a camera which I have had for a while, and will take back with me when I go ?"
"Do you have a shipping manifesto for it ?" (or some such crap)"
"?????"

Not getting the easy money, he now asked me to open the other bag. And stuff started spilling out. As soon as he saw the macbook, his eyes lit up. To be fair, you are allowed to import one laptop. I had my own, which I would take back with me. But this argument would not cut any ice with him. He had seen the light at the end of the silver tunnel, and he was not going to let any logic come between him and salvation.

500 Dollars. Thats how much it would cost me to get my stuff through. Unofficial, of course. I told him I did not have that kind of money, and started opening my walled to show him. He quickly stopped me, and sent me to a shady corner with another dude. I had $175 on me. Dude2 saw it, went to Dude1. Dude1 looked at me, and made a sign saying "No Way !". They left me alone to think about it.

So now I started down a path which I hate taking. I started calling poeple I know. I put in some calls, and stood there waiting while they called people they knew. Now Dudes 1 and 2 got some hint that I was trying to pull one on them, and got a little antsy. So after 5 minutes, Dude2 comes back to me

"Do you have any Indian currency ?"
"No !"
"OK .. lets settle this at $175"
"Hmmm .. lets wait for 5 minutes now. I called someone to help me, and let me tell him its OK now"

Now you could see some desperation creeping into his voice. He could see the moolah slipping out of his hands.

"Well, you can always tell them later. You can give me the money now, and lets get you out of here"
"No. lets wait for 5 minutes"

Now I got a call back from a contact, and he said that he was sending someone to help me. Sure enough, a inner door opened, a senior offiical showed up, and just told me to walk out of there. I did not need to be told twice !!

When I reflect back on this whole episode, I find that it does not bother my conscience at all. Theoretically, I should have paid a duty of about $50 on the stuff I was carrying. My own laptop and camera (that I have owned for a long time) should not have been included in the inventory of dutiable items. If the officer had been honest and logical, I would actually have paid that duty. That was the reason I did not avail of any "help". But the officer saw a potential source of money and made life difficult for me. I would even have paid the $175. But he was greedy. So he ended up with a big fat nada.

Serves him right !

Bollywood Dancing

Niki's cousing Neeta (cousin Neeta from now on) is married to a german fellow, and they are living in Delhi as expats. Lovely woman .. always upbeat, and ready for anything (like clubbing till 5 am). This inspite of having 2 kids. Anyway, one day she invited us to go to a local club on the "commercial night". This is when they play hindi/bollywood songs. She was meeting up with some friends from her Bollywood Dancing class.

I showed up not quite knowing what to expect. There was this set of women, all non-indian, all dancing (quite well, i must say) to the beats of "Beedi" ! One chinese woman, one mongolian, and two others that I forget. It was amazing. On later conversations, I found out that all of them are expats (husbands are diplomats mostly), and they find this a great way to keep fit. I met them all on and off on various night outs, and kinda know them by now.

On Saturday, we celebrated a belated Holi at Delphine's terrace. Bhang and beer were in abundance, as well as "pukka" colors from Dehradun. Cousin Neeta and one of the bollywood dancing girls (Nevis) decided to show us some moves from the class. We were treated to a amazing coordinated dance, exactly as Saroj Khan drew it up for the sets. Poeple were peeping from neighbouring houses. There was a rumor that tickets were being sold to let people watch ! This was no amateur stuff, the moves were highly choreographed steps, befitting professional dancers.

Now I was intrigued. Cousin Neeta asked me and Cousin Gogi (both with nothing to do) to come to this class with them. So we showed up at this house in Vasant Vihar on a tuesday morning. Let me just confess that our motives were not altogether altruistic or curious. The beginners class was just ending, and I met all of the other dancers, some of whom I knew from before. I also met the obviously gay indian youth who was the teacher.

And then the class started. The initial few songs were ones that had already been done, just to warm up. It was amazing to see these dozen or so women, none of them indian, gyrate sensuously to the latest hindi numbers. The dances were all very peppy, and specifically meant for "extras" that dance along with the stars in these videos. There were variations in style (some of the women were dancing more "athletically", some were more "sensuous", and some were very close to the western concept of modern dance), but as a group, they were extremely attractive to watch. The moves in these dances (as i discovered) are not the slightly languid and delicate stuff that goes on when the main actors are serenading each other. These are power moves, with each beat dissected to cram the maximum movement, and the dancers were really sweating after just one number. A great workout, as they pointed out.

The only complaint Cousin Neeta had with the teacher was that the moves were too "manly" !!

Maybe I will join the beginners class. Atleast check out the women there. Can't beat a workout that feels like a night out at the club. But this is a secret. I would never live down the stigma of learning Bollywood Dancing.

Costa Rica .. Uno

(finally catching up on the writing .. this is a backdated post)

15th April

The first impression of Liberia airport is that of a huge hangar, open at both ends, containing the immigration and customs folks. Equally gigantic fans gently stir the moisture laden tropical air. The overall impression is that of arriving at a place where time has slowed down. And I mean that in a good way.

Since I had a 5 hr delay before the next flight (to San Jose), I decided to see if I could check in early at the local airline (Sansa). I did find the counter, but it was completely deserted. Actually, after the humdrum of my flights arrival had died down, the whole airport seemed to go for a siesta. I switched from shoes to flip-flops and began reading my book.

At around 4:45 (1 hr before the flight), I wandered over to the counter once more. This time a woman came out of the small office and told me that the flight would be about 45 mins late. Total baggage allowance at Sansa is 25 lb (inc hand baggage), and I was well over that. But she decided not to charge me extra.

The reason for this largesse was soon revealed. I was supposedly the ONLY passenger on that flight. The plane arrived about 1 hr late, and it was a wonder to behold. Single prop. 12 seater.  No separate cockpit. Basically the pilot gave his pre-flight instructions by turning his head to me and speaking them out loud. The good part was that I was able to peek over his shoulder during the whole landing (which was after dark), and it was really cool to watch the runway, lit up like a christmas tree, coming closer and closer.

Checked in, had a couple of margaritas, and waited for Navin. Went out to the town, got even more drunk, and woke up bright and early the next day. After some distractions, went down to the rental car place. Were given a diesel 4wd, and were sent out with some expert sounding directions which involved two crucial turns. We missed both of them ! Made our way back to the airport, changed our rental vehicle, and got a fresh set of directions. The only problem was that the turns were described, but in answer to our legitimate query about how to identify the turns, the response was that you will just have to know. Excellent.

We finally did manage to get on the highway (not bad at all, BTW). And of course, we missed the turn to Jaco. But that turned out to be OK, as we took a small byway, which was the scenic route. Stopped for a local snack at an idyllic town. Love the attitude towards life that the Ticos have. The town square had a big tent serving beer. Food stalls nearby. A festival like atmosphere. Soccer games in progress.

After enjoying (and endlessly photographing) the sunset in the company of the local dog and sundry alligators, we reached Quepos after nightfall.

Timed it well so that the Germans (who had arrived earlier) would have had ample time to buy supplies and settle down in the villa. Evil. And realized that the warning to only get 4wd vehicles was quite prudent. Managed to drive down the narrow (and extremely steep) driveway without any incident. Cold beer was waiting, and we in turn waited for the arrival of the main party from Liberia. What helped in that vigil was the 12 bottles of wine that the main party was supposed to have.

Party came, party started, and the house was divided up. Navin, Seshan and me, as the resident bachelors, were allotted spaces in the laundry room and the pantry ! Cest La Vie.

Perplexed, maybe regretful, even distraught

I have been closing out so many things recently  .. people, experiences, places ! Judging (and rejecting) from first impressions. Worrying too much about other people judging me ! And I did not even realize I was doing this. Its so easy to get into a defensive shell and start firing pre-emptive salvos at anyone that approaches. The self-deception then comes automatically to cover the fact that you are doing this.

Something happened yesterday that made me suddenly aware of what was happening. I was perplexed .. because I did not realize I was doing it. Regretful .. that I did it to someone, and possibly hurt them. And distraught .. that I am capable of doing the very things that I disapprove of in other people.

I am sure that 2 years ago this would not have happened. I was always able to find a good vibe, and connect with people (maybe just fleetingly). What has changed ? I no longer have a regular job. I am not in a relationship. And I am almost a nomad .. wandering from Delhi to San Francisco .. spending a month or two at each place, with no time to grow roots in either one. Is it the new urgency of trying to take in a place because I know I will soon be away from here ? Or just too much time on my hands, doing nothing creative, the brain atrophying, seeking ephemeral pleasures to distract itself. Or maybe, as the wisdom goes, I just need to get laid more often :-)

Ah! Of Course! Its the tooth pain. Sucking all the life forces, leaving behind a bitter rancor, the pestilence of hate. Yes, I think I will blame the physical for the lapse in the spiritual. So easy to find a scapegoat.

Doing something creative (or being around a creative process) is what I am yearning for right now. This writing exercise is part of it. The two other things I will work on is the music and the pictures. Maybe this will keep me busy for a while.

Again .. this blog is mostly a personal journal. It is meant to give me a snapshot of my historical thoughts and actions, rather than be a voyeuristic window into my soul. And an advertisement for the fact that I can be a good pop-psychologist. Maybe even a cult leader.

Holy matrimony !

Now that my grandmom is no more, my parents are trying to find a new thing to worry about. Yesterday they decided to bring a dead horse back to life. They wanted to know when I would get married, and why I was refusing to entertain them on this aspect. I told them that its as simple as not having any desire towards it. Logically, this usually signifies the last step in an argument : If I dont want to do it, why should I ? But we decided to go further into it. Why did I not desire the blessed state of matrimony ? Was I against the institution ? No, I said. If at some point I meet someone who inspires this desire in me, then so be it.

Now comes the part I really could not comprehend. The argument went like this : If I dont think about getting married, then I will not meet anyone whom I would want to get married to. Whoa ! So that means, I must actively aspire towards getting married, only then can I ever hope to find a person to whom I can get married. I thought this worked the other way round. If you find a person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you get married to that person (bear with me on this, this is still a socially acceptable statement, and i am just using this as a logical stopgap measure. does not mean that i agree with it)

So that implies that a desire to be married is a part of a normal human psyche. Is it ? Actually, looking at most people I know, it seems to be true. An arranged marriage is the most glaring example of this. It is clearly saying that people want to be married, and the parents are just acting as matchmakers. I have not yet seen an arranged "just sex" or "just going out" or "just have fun" match ! (Note to self : can be a good business idea. But that that is the casual encounters section of craigslist. Too late again! ).

My dad tells me that they can start looking, or can put an ad in the papers. They want to just help me meet women, there is no pressure to marry someone they choose. How do I tell them that I am fine with the meeting women part. But can it be just for casual sex ? Or even just hanging out at a bar. Maybe if the sex is fantastic, or the conversation over some booze is exemplary, we can decide to meet again. And maybe (you never know, let me be nice and not dismiss this offhand) this leads to marriage at some point. Now that would be nice .. using your parents to find your next fling ! ParentFling.com, here i come.

Romance : Chandigarh style

Somehow my hometown has taken it upon itself to be the most "Valentined" city in India. Maybe it is because of its monicker : The City Beautiful. V Day is serious business here. According to an alert investigative journalist from the local newspaper, around 10 tonnes of chocolate was sold in the city on Feb 13th. Quite an acheivment for a city with a population of less than a million.

Around 1500 cops were deployed today on the infamous "gheri route". This is a road passing through sectors 9,10 and 11, where a lot of youngesters congregate. Actually, they mostly go round (gheri means "going round" in Punjabi) on their vehicles, looking at each other. This is what passes for a romantic encounter in India. Chandigarh is the favored educational destination for the younglings of the rich farming community in Punjab, so you encounter a lot of "raw" but well off kids. And they have somehow taken it to heart that proposing to a girl on V Day is a slam dunk. Their version of the wooing game is played like this :
1. Ride in a pimped up jeep with the top off with loud music blasting (any similarity to the gangstas is purely coincidental)
2. Honk at random women passing by
3. If there is no favorable response (which is the usual case), get more aggressive and pass lewd comments
4. If still no favorable response (what is the probability of that after step3), go to step 1
5. If there is a couple, direct aggression towards the boy

Let me relate an incident. When i was in college, a friend of mine in Chandigarh started dating this hot girl. A few days later, he is accosted by five huge sardars. It seems that one of them has earmarked the girl as "his", and my friend is "encroaching". Never mind the fact that this sardar has never spoken a word to the girl (and probably never will). Even if he does, what the girl thinks about it is still irrelevant. This is a typical Chandigarh romantic story.

So, coming back to the cops, they "are again determined that they will let love bloom only under their watchful eyes", and "are all set to have cameras rolling to record any untoward incident and have it as a piece of evidence" (direct quotes from the top cop). And the "gheri route" was declared a no-vehicle zone. See what i mean about the city taking V Day very seriously !!

But when i went out to get some food for take-out, I did notice groups of kids in eating joints, taking their first stumbling steps towards a relationship with the opposite sex, feeling out boundaries, marking territory. That was a trip down nostalgia lane. ( and woe betide the first bugger to comment "so how has that changed for you today ?" )

Dont call it Frisco ..

The smell of weed on the streets. Talking to a crackhead on the 22, explaining why a Scotty Cameron putter is so expensive. Parks crowded with sunbathing locals starved for good weather. Mission hipsters sporting varied facial hair hanging out at Zeitgeist. Mopeds being furiously pedalled up hills that they cannot climb on their own power. Boozy outdoor lunches accompanied by Seshan's poignant pontifications. "Dressed to impress" bridge and tunnel folks lining up in record numbers for a desi sounding club event. A profusion of asian women descending on Navin's apartment for the phinal phreakout. Consuming 75 chicken wings (and onion rings) with 3 other stoned people after a night of dancing at Afrolicious. A lunch of "la cubana" in the
deep hispanic mission. Seshan's dates with destiny. Sushi platters arriving and disappearing at record pace.

These are just some of my SF memories from the last trip. I do believe that SF is a state of mind. Or many stoned minds. It may not have a physical reality at all, because it is so apart from its parent geo-political entity. Its the one city in the US where Superbowl Sunday is a non-event. Where two drink sardars will tease a tiger till it comes out of its cage and eats their friend. Where self-expression is a legitimate excuse for any freak show that you see on the street. Where you will run across a yoga/sex commune which offers a course for restoring male self-confidence (all teachers are women).

On a weekend, you can go into a club/bar, and share a joint. But a cigarette is still taboo. When you do have to go outside, you find that the police station is across the street, but you can chose to ignore them while lighting up your reefer, just as they chose to ignore you.

This is why I love this place. I can be what I am, or whatever I want to be.

Some observations on death

My grandmother passed away today. My mom called me as I was on my way to the Dallas Cowboys playoff game with Partha, Madhu and Thombre. I was the first person she called, as she knew it would me daytime in the US. It was not unexpected, she was 93 years old. And it happened very peacefully for her, in her sleep.
I did not feel anything on hearing the news. I did not tell anyone else (whats the point ?). I am going back ASAP to India, not because I want to pay my last respects to her, but because I want to be with my parents at this time, especially my dad. I remember when my grandfather died, I was still in high school. Then too, I do not remember feeling sad, or any sense of loss. Actually I don't remember ever feeling grief at a death. Have I accepted death as a part of life ?
And this is also the reason why I have never really been able to empathize with other people who go through such an experience. I say the words .. sorry about your loss .. but i am really not. I am concerned about the person who suffers through it, but as far as the dead person is concerned, to me its like a chapter that ends. You move on to the next page.
I have had tears in my eyes at times, sometimes even while watching movies (yes, I confess. If Tys can be brave enough, I can too :-) ). But I think the emotions have been other than grief. Maybe it is just a profusion of emotions. But I don't recall ever crying because I was sad. Maybe I am a cold bastard !!!
Now does that mean I am not afraid of death ? I think the possibility of just missing death is what scares me most. Losing any/some physical abilities is more scary than actual death. And I am a proponent of Euthanasia.

Why is our society so fixated on life ? I think it happens more in the "civilized' societies. Any death is something to be avoided at all costs. Millions of dollars are spent on medical research on obscure diseases just because a few people die from it per year, when the same resources can make thousands of lives "better". When it comes to life/death, we start making decisions that are totally irrational. We will keep people on life support for ages, knowing fully well that there is no possibility of recovery, and also no way to ever interact with that person. The premium attached to the boundary between life and death is orders of magnitude more than the premium attached to the boundary between a "good" life and plain survival.
Is it guilt at not doing everything possible to save a life ? Is it a sort of insurance - that if/when your turn comes, you are assured that similar efforts will be made ? Because people are afraid of death ? I would like to see this studied scientifically. Create a measure for "life premium" .. and track it across time and social conditions. Use regression analysis to find causal factors !!! Statistics ! now that's something worse than death for me ;-)