Luang Prabang (2/2)

There's little else in the world that can bring the calm like me being wrapped in a crisp white towel following a hot water bath, with a cup of black coffee, a comfortable settee and the Air to write on.

We completed a day of walking around Luang Prabang and honestly, I'm amazed at just how much Peepu and I can walk in a day. We started with the old temples, the most fascinating of which was a Buddhist temple with one wall dedicated to the Ramayana. We walked further along the outer elongated ring and saw the Mekong and the Nam Kham converge- the waters made a beautiful pattern. I'm always thrilled to see water, and when the water is having a little prance of its own like this one, or like when the river in Kovalam met the ocean, it tickles me even more. It was only natural for me to find a restaurant on the other side of the river, which required us to seat ourselves on a light, very thin wooden boat. Peepu was terrified. I loved it. The precarious boat was operated dexterously by two Lao locals, who I might add, had extremely strong and sexy arms. Our restaurant was on an embarkment on the other side, with little kuccha villas where we ate and drank and played Scrabble.

Time just flew by. We went up to Mount Phousi (yes, pronounced as Mount Pussy) to get some stunning views of the city, and stunning views we got. The hike up and then the hike down was tiring but gave us a little bit of the workout we needed.

We're back in the hotel now. I'm wrapped up and on my newly adopted settee. Peepu just went up to the attic to stretch his legs out. I'm loving the coffee. Its funny how I would prefer a cup of coffee over my fave alcohol, almost always before 9 pm. We change with time.

Signing off. Love.

Love changes towns

Its day 3 of the honeymoon. Or may be I should pretentiously call it 'post wedding holiday'. Life isn't half bad when you're sitting on the side berth, typing in to the Air, listening to Love Mera Hit Hit. Of course, I'm sharing the side berth with Peepu, who has been a little less of a husband since the holiday started, like just not, asking me to turn down the volume on my ipod. Boo! I'm hoping he reads this post sooner than later. He did please me with the conversation on China and Communism this morning. He's now nudging me for attention, which I ain't going to give him.

Just a week back I was on a vastly distant time zone, about to fly 12,000 kms to get back to Delhi from Boston. Now I'm in on a train- from Trivandrum to Cochin. The emotion is similar. It feels like the heart is getting wider, opening up more, increasingly I spend more time in transit. The heart breaks its boundaries. Its sees more feels more, introspects much more given the time spent alone, and frees itself from all the constraints one feared might emerge with age. The music in the ears contributes intensely to the feeling.

We spent two days in Kovalam. We were here last year too, and this time was much quieter since it was just us as opposed to the whole firm here last year. We stayed at the gorgeous Leela, in one of the beach facing villas. The rooms were outstanding. Earthy, and large enough. The bathrooms had these mini tubs, which are way more romantic than the standard tubs. As once steps out of the bed room, you can see the expanse of the Arabian Sea, with the wavs crashing against the rocks, making a sound which still lingers somewhere in the back of my head. We didn't spend all our time in the resort. As much as I like to tell myself that I want to relax, I'm often restless after the first few hours. We were quick to step out to the local beaches and the restaurants on the promenade. We headed straight to Malabar Cafe, where the patron recognized me from last year, and recognized that I was the visitor who took a ton of pics. He then brought over what we went for: Beer in coffee mugs (in the absence of a bar license), Butter Garlic Prawns and Beef Masala. What followed was an evening and night of heart burn. But for a good cause. We went back again the next night.

This time we hired a Bullet and biked over to the backwaters too. When it comes to the backwaters, believe the hype. We hired a boat from the backwaters for two hours. Our boatee, he took us through the waters, with beautiful little channels, pockets of bird life, villagers bathing and children dancing (obviously to assume the travelers) along the way. There was a restaurant on the way where we stopped for coffee and Onion pakodas. Once we got back on to the boat, our man steered us towards the point where the river meets the sea. This was the loneliest part of the country I have been to. May have been something to do with the season, but there wasn't a soul on the beach. the waves were wild, and especially prominent against the mild sunset. I was personally fascinated with the narrow channel that links the river to the sea. It was about 3 feet wide, and noticeable deeper than the rest of the beach. The sea water on either side of the channel was cold but the river water in the channel, comfortably warm. On looking up, all I would see was Peepu against the expanse. I hadn't seen something like it before and was glad we made the trip. We biked back to get our second round of Beef Masala and Beer in coffee mugs.

We're on our way to Cochin now. We'll spend day there before we fly off to foreign shores. Foreign shores, I just said. Foreign no longer means what it used to, I realize. Earlier, there was novelty associated with traveling to outside India. It was an opportunity to see a world less accessible to most of one's friends and family. We would be fascinated by their unique coffee machines, variety of beer, sophisticated and high quality outfits, colorful lip balms and overall their push button life. We would meet other travelers and exchange stories. We would take trains and scrimp on food in order to stay within a really hard budget. We would gather experiences and stories to tell our folks back at home. Back home, we would fall in love with well traveled folks. It has changed now, hasn't it? Our stories are no longer unique, and it doesn't fascinate to see how many cities one has pinned their flag on. Online travel meters have been done to death. No one cares. 3 passports pasted against each other with valid visas in each is common place. In a way, we're in a great place. We can now do what we want. And exactly that. No norms to follow. No stories to advertise on facebook. No flags to pin.

I'm listening to Amy MacDonald. I love every line in this song, especially the one that goes "where you gonna sleep tonight?"

Quitting the quitting

Inspired by my comrade's noble and applaudable efforts to quit smokingI had decided to follow suit.

There was another reason why I decided to take this step.

Actually I had been thinking about it for a long time. Mostly when I used to smoke - because that is when your thoughts swril and loop as they trace the smoke on its way to nothingness that all thoughts are.

Its about the calendar. I have gotten into the habit of striking off dates every day .. count downs somehow make it easier .. you are at the very least some 30 seconds closer as you uncork the pen, seek out the date and cross it and sit back and revel in the fact that you made it through another day and things seem to be going good. But like they always say where i work - you should always have a big picture view.So this one day as i was smoking, I tried to rise above the measly days and dates and tried to grasp the big picture.. the months of the year

There is something about every month that makes it (or made it) special except for a few or maybe one (in my case). There is always something you end up identifying with a particular month. This could vary with the subject under consideration of course.

For January - it is the cold, it is no cockroaches, it is a week without a bath and still smelling good, and perchance you do take a bat then its a hot steaming bath. Feburary is 28 days! need i say anything more. March was alwaysthe exam month. April always meant new people, new class, new subjects. You used to pray for the end for May because thats when the summer vacations used to kick in. June July were hot and had mangoes. August and September always hung there like a pair of orphaned twins because October signalled the diwali season which hearlded in November with a lot of birthdays and December was the end of the year and cold yet again.

August and September. Something had to be done abt them. Like they say, time takes care of everything. It did take care of August but September hung there begging attention, yearning for some recognition but circumstances are a bitch like they always are.

Which is why I decided to accord a sepecial status to September. The month when I quit smoking for good. What follows is my day by day account of my will powers' tryst with what has been scientifically proved to be the second most addictive agent in the world (the first is 'being in love')

Day -1:
11:30 pm : Tomorrow I quit. Let me go out with a bang. I head out, buyme a 10 pack and start chugging away.

12:00 am: Half way through Spaceballs now. Three smokes down, 7 remaining. An ethical dilemma. And then I start building the argument.It will be a colossal waste of resources and the thousands of manhours that have been spent to grow, process, package, market these 7 cigarettes. In anycase, the 12:00 am date change is just an arbitrary crossover process that has been forced onto us by the westerners. And I hate the whites. A colonial vestige, is all that it is. I must be true to my true self and proceed as per the traditional indian cultural practice of earmarking the start of the next day by way of the first ray of light. My conscience eagerly accepts the bulletproof line of reasoning (conveniently bypassing the jarring thought about why the georgian calendar in the first place) and I ease back and light the 4th.

1:30 am : Spaceballs done with. 6 smokes down. On to Spygames. Robert Redford is smoking a cigarette. I am allowed. So I chug on to my 9th over the next hour.

~2:30 am : I am on my ostensibly last cigarette ever. A sense of elation. I have finally quit. Oh how i love September. The day I celebrate my 100th birthday I will thank this September oh so profusely! And i turn in for the night thinking it will be a new life starting the next day. A new me. A healthier me. A smokeless me.It depresses me.

8:00 am : Fuck I need a smoke! Fuck it all.

8:05 am : "Bhaia, ek 20 ka pack dedo".

stuff good weekends are made of

I had made up my mind. This weekend was going to be different. Well, different from what weekends had life thrown up the last couple of times - i find it really hard to remember the weekends before that. I take this as a good sign because they wouldnt have been special, otherwise I would certainly have the dates etched on my mind and since they are not hence it is safe to deduce that they weren't after all.



Last to last weekend, I remember having watched the dark knight; followed by drinks till the wee hours of the day; the next day I scooted off to meerut to check on my cousin who'd had a surgery and also to meet up with my parents who were visting to from up north. Hellish driving on Saturday, rest on Sunday and hellish driving on Monday. That was about it. Except for lots of food which did not go well down with me.



The next weekend started with an office party where I got smashed, danced a bit, then when I started stepping on peoples' toes, I snuck away and found myself a corner in the center of the room and nursed my drinks longing to be somewhere else maybe, because I distinctly remember not being quite happy that day. But the following week when I saw the pictures - I was in inclined to think otherwise. Alchohol is not good. Anyways - I was not to learn anything from the friday night. The moment my blood stream registered a normal Ph after a day long diet of water and diet cokes I drove across town to catch up with a few friends and first rays of a lazy sunday morning accompanied by a light drizzle waltzing with a cool breeze found me on the balconey of my friend's place downing the nth glen something. I slept. hellish drive in the evening and I swore the next weekend ( this one had to be different). For a change - no more alchohol.

Of jet lag and different people

frikking jet lag. totally wrecks up your life. there are things to be done, places to go, people to meet and it all runs into a brick wall because your body cannot make up your mind whether it wants to rest or keep going. makes you wonder at times whether we were meant to travel at such high speeds in the first place - of course we were not - apparently we've outpaced evolution - our lifestyles are changing faster than we are.

This is going to be a tough week. Lots of traveling. Again - this is the part of my lifestyle that i like so much - and this is the exact same thing i cant stop complaining about to others. Maybe its because that I am enjoying it so much that I actually feel guilty about it and try and put up a show that I am not actually enjoying it. So that would be the masochistic streak we talked about sometime ago. Or maybe its because I complain to people who actually would rather be traveling and when i crib to them, it ruffles their feathers until they throw up their hands in the air exclaiming "what is wrong with this guy". That would be the sadistic streak in me. The different people that we are. hmmmm

The very different people we are "from one day to the next" - to borrow a quote from the song bittersweet symphony by the verve - drives you to the brink of insanity - it pulls you in so many different directions. Same event - at one time you are grateful for it and at others you cannot stop lamenting abt the exact same thing.

Every day of the week starting from last Saturday, I have been and am going to be in different cities spanning three continents! Monday - life returns to normalcy.

See, I've cribbed here too. I dont know if its the masochistic me or the sadistic me. You decide.

I have to leave - have to catch a flight in another 1 hr

cheers !

There is a season...

dont ask me what the title of this entry means.I have absolutely no idea where that came from. Actually if you were to believe it, then i think u should know that i am lying when i say that. Because, it is only I, of all ppl, who knows where that came from. Which is rather logical since I am the one who put it there in the first place. There is something about denial. It comes as a first nature to many and I am no exception. I hate to get embroiled into philosophical discusisons - deeper meanings - true meanings - so I deny knowledge and profess ignorance. I turn my back on sophists. I have no time for trivialties. But then, I digress.

Of what i have absolutely no idea is why i put it there. Denial again. Circumvension is my religion. Come to think of it, i actually do - since i've been humming this song ever since 8 in the morn today.It is a song that features on the soundtrack of the oh so wonderful movie, Forrest Gump. Lucky bastard, him. It also used to feature as the title song of a Sitcom. Picket Fences. They used to telecast on Star World. A long time back. I loved it. I'd never missed a show. I dont know why i liked it so much (Denial again) But it was probably the way they used to come up with an absorbing storyline using the same pool of limited characters. It gave me an insight into maybe the true nature of life. How all of us are inextricably intertwined with each other. One cannot be viewed as distinct from another.One helluva show.I hope they start airing it again. Actually another reason could be that Lauren Holly starred in that show and i really used to dig her then.Well, you know the mentality of a 15 year old.
So i guess we're never going to get to the bottom thiswhy i really liked that show .. sometimes its good to leave things that have been. As they were. Keeps it simple, retains that dreamy aura that enscons the memories. They are better left untouched

Hmmmm. And i liked that song too.
To everything there is a season.
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
...and so it goes. .
it drives home the truth. That there is nothing thats an ideal life.There will be sorrow,there will be happiness.There will be hate, there will be love.There will be times when you are all alone and there will be times when you are with all your friends having the time of ur life. Because this is what life is made of. This is what makes our life, our times such an enriching experience. Sorrow makes us cherish happines. He who hath not shed a tear knows not what a smile is.

It is just that we need the strength to walk out the storm. To strive against the wind. To bear it all because its certain as we turn around that dark corner, the golden splendor of light will light up our path. As we trudge with bent backs and spent effort over that hard climb, a verdant valley with blue ribbons for streams and glistening grass and fragrant flowers will welcome us with open arms and lay our burdens to rest. It is all up and down, and you have to surf it and make the best of it while you are at it. Things are never at the the lowest at the same timre they are never at the highest. There is always something worse, and there is always something better. But the catch is that we never know the limits. How bad can things ever be or how good they can ever be. S0, its a good deal to ride the wave and be pleasantly surprised when it tosses you to unprecedented heights at the same time to bear in mind that it could have been lower when it plunges u to depths unknown. It is a topsy turvy ride. But then then there is a time for everything, you have the torrential hails, you have a litling drizzle. You have the zephyrs and you have a veritable hurricane. You have the dark nights, You have the sunny days. You have the hot and humid days of summer and you have the crisp mornings of the winters. Indeed, to everything there is a season, and as we plough onwards, hurtling across the evanescent ether at millions of kms per second, time draws back the curtains laying down the path for us to a new experience, to a new perspective.

The key thing here is the strenght to weather the storm. And therein lies the answer - are u merely existing or living - its all a matter of choice...

The why's

I’ve been meaning to write, meaning to write for a long time now. I used to blog till some time ago.. I think it has been more than two years now.. when I was working, fresh out of college I had started on my new job- something I realised much later that I was not meant to do. It was a realization that came in within the first week itself – but I carried on nonetheless – like I have done all my life – I go on with the flow, primarily because I have no clue what would I rather be doing. But that is because I never attached myself to anything, be it a task or a person, more than what was required to retain sanity while I was with someone, or doing something. It was a good thing to do I guess – now that I look back in retrospect. I don’t know that when I sit down to write – hopefully what will be the first of many ramblings that will grace this space - I go back to two years ago. One of the reasons why I’ve decided to write is to help sort out things in my mind. I’ve been tossing things around in my mind for long now, replaying events, seeking explanations, imagining things, tracing clues, and its high time that I force some order into my life - that is why – half way across the world as I wait to fly back home, I pulled out my laptop and started typing – the first step is the most difficult one – thereupon everything flows. So, I’m sitting at the New Ark airport next to gate 55, waiting for my boarding call. I’ve spent the last 7 hours in the airport. Looking at people come and go, a welcome hug here and a tearful parting there. Times like these are important – when you have an out of body experience like these – when you a silent observer - and you get a chance to observe the intricate web of humanity around you that makes you feel so small and insignificant and its an uplifting experience – especially when you realise that all this time you had yourself singled as being the centre of the universe towards which all the injustices were directed – Today – I was finally able to get over the “why me” drone – albeit briefly. There is something that bothers me about me, I don’t know what it is exactly but it is a curious mix of masochism, self-pity, denial, introversion. I run away from happy moments now, I detest social engagements, I hate being with people to the point of being rude to them, I sit and wallow. And I almost enjoy it. There is a lot of anger that I direct at people around me for no fault of theirs. I want people to hate me, fear me, detest me. That has become the mainstay of my life – I’ve realised that I am getting very good at this. Me – a boring, introverted, irate me . I now like making people uncomfortable. I was not like this. OK, maybe boring and introverted – but I was the adjusting kind, I used to be good with people. I used to respect people. Things change and look how they do. One day you are one person – and the next day you are a monster. One day you think you have everything and the next day you find yourself in the middle of nowhere. One day you are walking by side of the river on a lovely promenade lined with trees blossoming with flowers so that their branches droop so low with their florid weight that leaves brush your hair you amble along. And then, the next day you are on a rugged, moor at the end of the world on a moonless night with the howling winds taking jibes at your battered self. That is how life changes. And that is how it changes you.

They just made the boarding call, I have to move now. I hope they have some good movies on the plane otherwise it is going to be a long flight. Beer would help for sure. And Red wine. If nothing else – there will always be my laptop.

It is strange, that this be the day exactly two years ago when I asked her out and she had said yes.

The answer

..my friend is blowing in the wind ! the answer is blowing in the wind ... tadum!