Of wanderings and a conversation

I always enjoy walking around the MG Road - Brigade Road area here in Bangalore. It gives me a slight flavour of Calcutta. A good and improved flavour of Calcutta. It reminds me particularly of the Chowringhee area near Grand Hotel. Where you have the hawkers sitting around selling all kinds of garments. There are no hawkers as such over here. MG Road is what brings back these memories. It's wide and there's a kind of bustle about the crowd. Calcutta is of course more crowded and there is much more of a bustle there. The bustle and the crowd here is enough to make me smile to myself and enjoy the experience of walking around there :) What I really like about the experience of walking around here is the people that I see around me. It's completely different from Calcutta! The crowd is 'richer' and it's very diverse. PYTs clutching on to the arms of their partners, foreigners walking around carrying their backpacks, up and with it thirty year olds and the local crowd which makes up a minority.

Brigade Road is what I would call a more compact version of what I would imagine Park Street to be in earlier times. These days the Left government seems hellbent on destroying whatever remains of it! I think it's more 'compact' because of the narrow road, the numerous shops which are quite literally stuck to each other, the slow moving traffic and the slim footpaths which are teeming with people. Diverse crowd again. The road's got a definite pulse and buzz to it.

On Saturday I had stopped by at a juice shop on Brigade. Was looking around for something with which to quench my thirst. It was nice sitting there. Peaceful, sitting on a long stool, looking out on Brigade Road. Just a touch away from the crowded street. In came a foreigner. It struck me that he asked for an anaar juice. Anyways, he sat down and I started a conversation with him. It was quite an interesting chat we had. We discussed how America and India are diverse in their own ways. Some of the stuff that he told me was quite new for me. I didn't know that in nearly every American city, people of many nationalities interact with each other. I did have a vague idea that local conflicts are not uncommon in America. We also concluded that the means of communication that we have around us are completely changing how society operates.

I feel that eyes reveal a lot about a person. The American's eyeballs were light blue, bright and constantly twitching. An alert person I thought. Half an hour passed in a flash! I have met foreigners before. But never really had a conversation as such with one. Good shit :)

Goa : Faintly familiar and flippantly familial

Mom came up with the idea that the entire family should get together in Bangalore and go for a family holiday to Goa. When I was a kid(d) then the Maskara family would invariably go for a summer vacation to the hills. It's not like I remember those trips vividly or anything. There are remnants of those times in the recesses of my mind. Of looking at sheets of snow for the first time at Rohtang Pass in Manali, of doing wall rappelling at a camp organised by Aurobindo Ashram, of ploughing through snow at Changu Lake in Sikkim and of walking along Kodaikanal's famed Coker's Walk and admiring the smoke that one's breath forms in the mountains. These are the sights I can pull out now from the top of my head.

So anyways, the trip was planned and they arrived here last Friday. Memories are strange friends aren't they? The minute I saw Mom, I instinctively had a broad smile and it just felt so good to see her! No reason, just feeling. While Dids was collecting her luggage, Dad gave me company. Are father-son relationships always a touch subtle? I immediately asked him something which I had been mulling over for quite a bit; the reason for him having been a smoker for over thirty years when he always came through as a health freak. The answer was surprising and when i thought over it, it made perfect sense. So anyways, that issue dealt with, we had a nice, healthy pause. Something which characterised our exchanges over the next week or so.

Dids and I are like two differently alike peas in a pod. From the airport we came to the PG and had one of the few but precious conversations that made the past week so flippantly familial. Not surprisingly, the first one started with a cigarette :)

The guest house that we got to stay in courtesy of my sister's company (Dentsu : A Japanese advertising agency) was beautiful to say the least. A wonderful duplex setup. Comfortable rooms with high ceilings, nice sofas, well designed interiors that gave us a passing flavour of Japanese culture and a small swimming pool with a nice porch to go with it! Probably the most comfortable home setup that I have ever seen.

Just the first dip in the pool and the initial headiness that Goa gives was enough to convince matre and patre that one requires more than two days to experience Goa! We decided to extend our trip by a couple of days. Off to Kalangute beach in search of a travel agent who could bail us out. As we approached Kalangute I began to get a whiff of old times. The guest house where I had stayed on my first trip to Goa three years back, the Kalangute circle where we had sat on the morning of 31st December kicking ourselves for not having made prior arrangements for spending the two most awaited days of a year in Goa and the stalls where I had gone shopping for a Goan sarong for an elusive person. We got our trip extended all right. (It would have been hell for me if we hadn't done so considering that the train ticket which I had got for our return was for May and not April!)

I remember the Saturday Night Bazaar at Ingo's which had so captivated me. It had seemed like a different world to me then! Foreigners selling exotic wares, exquisitely worded alcoholic beverages, wonderful music and ambience! Unfortunately, Ingo's was done for the season and we made it to Mackie's which disappointingly turned out to be a poorer version. It wasn't a patch on Ingo's. It was still nice, what with the family sitting together, having some pints of beer and enjoying some live performances.

We settled into a kind of a routine at Goa. Waking up by around nine or so. (That's for me of course. Mom and Dad are earlier risers. Comes with age I guess :) ) A dip in the pool, kind of home cooked lunch, a bit of rest in the afternoon and then off to the beach by four or so. Fortunately, we chose to go Arumbol on Sunday. If ever you decide to go to Goa, don't forget to visit this beautiful beach. Arumbol is close to being the perfect beach. The air has a certain freshness about it, the sea isn't too rough or calm and the beach hasn't been commercialised as such and neither has it lost its virginity.

I will never ever forget the afternoon that I'd spent at this beach on 31st December 2005. We had heard that one can get Multani Mitti at this beach. (For the uninitiated, Multani Mitti is mud that is supposed to be good for the skin and gas. It's probably originally from Multan or something like that) And we had also heard that one can get naked foreigners applying the Multani Mitti at this beach! So that's what had drawn us to this beach. We admired the beach and the locale on reaching there but had no luck with the Multani Mitti bit. And then the hand of God led us along in a guessing game where we walked along mountain trails in Enid Blytonesque style. As we followed our instincts and just went with the flow of things. As we skipped over the pebbles and stones that lined the brook in which flowed the mitti, ignoring the absence of the sight that we had been lusting for and simply following what appeared to be a slightly well worn trail. We passed settlements of foreigners which consisted purely of hammocks. We met a foreigner who was sitting peacefully on a small boulder who languidly responded to our query of what lies ahead by saying, "Oh, up ahead is the Banyan tree." At that point we didn't pay attention to the article that he'd used. We continued ahead. And then it came upon us. An old old Banyan tree which had a platform of mud alongside it. Bookshelves lined with books on religion and mythology. Some foreigners who were 'resting' over there. A child with glazed eyes who was walking around aimlessly clutching an orange in his tiny hand. An Italian and a man from Puri who were equally at ease there. Unfortunately, the remaining memories of this beautiful day cannot be unraveled on a public platform like this. Sad but that's the price we have to pay for this wonderful mode of expression called blogging ;)

Flashback over! At Arumbol we reached that idyllic lake which is unique to this beach. The family obviously wasn't in a position to engage in Enid Blytonesque skipping, so we asked a shackwallah to get it for us. Last time we had seen the brook but not applied any of the mud. It was a real experience! Covering our bodies with the paste, laughing at ourselves as we saw ourselves practically as ghosts with bodies! (The mud forms a creamy layer on the body as it dries) And then washing it off in the peaceful lake. Taking pictures, laughing, having fun, pulling each other's legs! It was a family :)

Bathing and cleansing over, we settled at a shack for a bit to rest. As Mom commented, the beach had a certain serenity and peace about it. Came with the waves, the locale, the air. Everything! It was a wonderful Sunday afternoon.

Doing the water sports was an experience too! Water scooter, para sailing, the funky banana boat ride. The best part was that we were all in it together. I like to think. I like to think about thinking too. And when I was doing those water sports, it seemed to me that there are moments in life which are meant to be simply savoured. One doesn't know what to do. Or what to think. One simply smiles. That's what happened to Mom, Dad, Dids and I. Same family remember :) As we each felt the fresh sea air and the rocking waves, took off while para sailing, dangled our legs in nothingness, felt like birds, admired the blue expanse and the palm trees that suddenly seemed different. To be honest, I expected the para sailing to be much more exciting. Once in the air everything just seems slower. Nonetheless, it was a good experience!

"Staying OK" is a wonderful wonderful book. As Dids and I discussed, it's not really supposed to be read on a family holiday ;) But it just makes a lot of things very clear and it got me through this flippantly emotional trip. It was good exchanging A-A conversations with my sister and I guess I'll just have to live with (at least for the next few years) the largely crossed transactions that parents and children have when the two parties don't really shake hands on how old they actually are. ("Staying OK" deals with transactional analysis. It's a wonderful concept.)

Fond bye byes were said at the airport. They were an interesting six days all right. At the end of it all, I would call it a beautiful time. Not beautiful because it was amazingly memorable or anything. It was beautiful because it stoked the fire of memories. That's why.

Aaaah... long post isn't it... I had promised to not indulge myself with them, hadn't I? Well, I have and what's more, I like it too :D And, I don't think this comes under "what happened in my day and crap like that" does it :)

A dangling conversation

Mid-week drinking has a different feel to it. Normally I go to a pub on Friday and have some beer with my college friends. I had a really good time the day before yesterday. And I had a good time yesterday too! Different places, different ambiance, different experiences. I won't talk about them now. That will be covered in a different post. (Hopefully, putting this hope down will subconsciously motivate me to write it too :) )

So anyways, I was getting a bit bored yesterday. The mood around me wasn't stimulating enough. And the music wasn't great either. And then a conversation happened which made my evening :D

I won't get into the details of the people I mention in this conversation. Personally, I hate long blog posts. And I'll indulge myself with them only when I feel that I'm a captivating enough writer :) Suffice it to say that Chedds and I had a conversation earlier in which we wondered whether all things that feel good are bad in some form or the other.

Here comes this wonderful conversation. Hope that I can pull it out verbatim :)


Chedds (talking to Chottu) : Have another mug of beer. You'll feel happy!

Chottu : Nahin nahin yaar... Jyaada khushi pachtee nahin..

Kudwi : Yaar I dunno why I prefer bad things to happy things...

Chedds : You mean, you prefer bad things to 'good' things (indicating air quotes with hands)

Apaaars : Too much happiness is bad for you!

Me : I think it's because happy things start feeling bad after a while whereas bad things end up making you feel good...

Chedds : This sounds familiar!!


So, that was the conversation which took place! I loved it!

It was Poopy (another of the nine boys... one of my favourites actually :) ) who had come up with a wonderful wonderful question some years back. He asked, "Why is it that all of good literature is inherently depressing?" And the wise old Babster (the tenth boy/man) said, "It's probably because we attach a greater price to unhappiness than what we do to happiness."

I agree. Don't you?

The college at the end of the universe

My article for the college magazine. I don't think I'll be writing for it again. I just might. Not likely though. Anyways, if you've ever been to Manipal then you'll be able to identify with this article and if you haven't then this is quite an apt description of what most people keep in their pockets after having experienced Manipal.

“A sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere, where people drink when they can and study when they have to. That’s the last word on Manipal.”

In my second year of college, I had written an article titled “Drinker’s guide to the Manipal galaxy.” This was my conclusion for it. It’s time to dig a little deep now. I’m older.

Like most people, I came to Manipal because I had to. Those were extenuating circumstances all right. Talking about them wouldn’t serve any purpose. Extenuating is a good enough word, methinks. Even if you don’t really understand what it means, roll it gently around your tongue and you’ll get the drift.

The other day, I was telling someone that I now think that one should definitely do college in a city and not in a godforsaken place like Manipal. The curt response was that Manipal has a charm of its own. True! So what exactly is this charm? A charm that pervades from the now quiet road which starts from tenth block and goes up and down till Sheela. A charm that pervades from hours spent in classrooms staring blankly at teachers who simply drone on and on without really leaving an imprint on the minds of impressionable men and women. A charm that pervades from all the joints in Manipal that we visit to, in the Queen’s language, recuperate. Let’s investigate.

College is where a person becomes young. I won’t get into all the details of leaving family, friends and school behind. We all know that. Think about your first few days in Manipal. If you just came here, then simply look around! I remember. Meeting new people, striking bonds, making introductions, mild ragging. Excitement! That’s what it was. Freedom! Excitement and freedom to simply be. BE. And not B.E.

Isn’t it true that this would be true of any other college too? Yes. So what makes Manipal different? People! People from all over the country. More importantly, people who have stretched each and every sinew that they possess, and bled for something or the other in their own ways, and had to settle. Settle for second best.

So what’s with all of us who end up coming here? Well, we survive. In our own ways. I won’t get into the gory details of survival and elimination. It’s all on public display anyways! There’s a joy in surviving here. A joy that I savour, now that I’m out of jail. Not to say that each and every day of existence here was such that I had to grit my teeth and get through it painfully. Not at all! I have a lot of memories that will be with me forever. Good, bad and ugly ones.

Most of the guys who stayed in sixth block in my first year here still talk about the times that they had in my room. Room no 101. The first room. There were many bonds which were formed as we piled on each other even as the night caretaker walked in, as we stood accused of burning down the block notice board, as innumerable nights were spent with six people sleeping on two beds and as we simply became men. I have had some unforgettable times here. Times that I would never have been able to experience in any other part of the world. Be it America, where I so wanted to go for my undergraduate studies, or St. Stephen’s, my other dream.

Today when I sit at a table at Downtown and look around at the people around me, I see memories. Memories that I share with friends who have been with me through, well, a lot of crap. A lot of it! Excellent crap. Good crap. Bad crap. The works. And I also see that I have shared an experience with some pretty special people; and I will always cherish that, no matter how the rest of my life goes and how drastically everything about me and the world around me changes. Sounds corny I know. But that’s how truisms work.

A sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere where people forge bonds because, well, they have to. That’s the last word on Manipal from my end.

Imagine

Imagine that you’re a blind man. You’ve been blind since birth. You are now standing on a beach with a friend of yours. You obviously have no sense of what your surroundings look like. Your friend ignites a conversation. He begins to describe an event to you.

Imagine that you’re hearing a song. This song has no lyrics. Touch the music. Run your fingers over snippets of sound. Feel the notes blending. With the blending of the notes experience the swirling and merging of rhythms. This mingled music moulds itself into a marvelous monotone. An ever changing monotone. It becomes subdued, faint. Lingers and exquisitely gives way to the sound of silence.

Imagine.

What do you see?

Face off

Hey...

Hello.

It's been a while since we met... Isn't it so?

How does it matter.

Wellll, actually it doesn't but just thought that it was the correct thing to murmur... Hmmm...

'Correct'.

Bitch.

This picture won me a prize and some moolah at IIT Chennai. I remember the kick I got when I clicked and saw what I had captured :) I'll treasure this picture. Always.

Exhilaration

Chottu is on his own trip! Let him do what he wants!! Always being so serious about life and all... Ass!! Oh there's something on my foot :( How did it end up there?? Lemme remove it... Won't look good no if it comes in any picture ;D Quickly... before the camera guy takes a picture of me!! Aaahh... Nearly got it off :D Wait! Waitttt!! Ohhh ohh... He's taking a picture!! Now where is that piece of muckkk?? Lemme smile now... Hope it comes nicely :D

Showmanship

Chottu is so stupid!! Camera man is so sweetly taking our pictures and here he's scowling so much. If not scowling then he's thinking about some thing or the other! Whats with him ya?! Anyways, I don't care! Chottu is small and so he doesn't understand. I like all this attention :D He must be thinking about his stupid marbles or some other thing that he likes to fight with me about!! Wait till we get to home after the lunch place. So what if we'r getting late!! Photos... pictures of us.. of ME :D I'll give him a good beating.. Then he'l understand :) But Chottu is a sweetoo... I love him :D and Daddy also... Standing there and letting us enjoy our moment in the sun :) He knows that we love it... Make that he knows that I love it ;D Now lets pose a bit for the camera!!

Contemplation

Hmmm... This camera guy seems to be quite persistent! Doesn't he realise that he's making us late??!! Anyhow, since he doesn't seem to be in the mood to leave us lets not bother with him! Hope he gets bored and goes away!

So what was that deal yesterday... I was playing with those marbles no... Then Didi kicked one of them away :( Ya that was there... And Daddy also didn't listen to me... He was so mean! Mommy had made some good food :D But that marble... Where has it gone? Hmmm...

Innocence

Aaaah. No hands around me now! Except for my own :) The camera guy seems to be thinking that Didi is a better model. Good only :D Didi can pose all she wants! Lets see what Daddy is doin... He's talking to me! Trying to make me laugh and smile. He really is a sweetheart :) Too sweet!

Angst

I do not understand why I am not allowed to walk without holding some one or the other's hand. Why is it that I'm EXPECTED to be weak? Is it just because I'm small that people love to molly coddle me. AND they expect me to love it too! Here I am enjoying this beautiful day. Enjoying but my enjoyment is restricted. Restricted by these hands which extend my personality but at the same time they suppress it. It seems to be a nice world all right. But only if I'm allowed to look at it. Free!! Here I am, being taken across the road, not being allowed to enjoy the dirt and muck which I would love to roll in! Add to that, this guy is prancing about trying to make me smile.

Doesn't he get it?

Brother sister act

Siblings act like mirrors. This is what my mother told me recently. Its stuck with me. This is a picture that I made quite randomly while walking outside my PG in Bangalore. As I clicked, the images fell into place. The children became less self conscious. When I look at this picture I'm reminded of a picture of my sister and I that was taken when we were kids. That was in Mussorie. I'm reminded of the picture because the Mussorie trip is not a memory anymore. In De Bono speak, it has 'unhappened completely'. What remains behind is a framed image and a bond. Something that every pair of siblings shares. A beautiful connection :)

Reeking of friendship and individuality

Bhopu and I met Rishi for the first time on the steps outside VIth Block. He was grumbling that he would never ever get his hair cut. This was at five in the evening. He was back at night. Still grumbling. This time without his locks. From then began a friendship which spanned late night studying for sessionals, first drinks, bike rides, a beautiful beautiful Goa trip and a whole lot of other gas. Here we see contrasting expressions from contrasting individuals who have had an interesting friendship. I will never ever forget the 'discussion' that Bhopu and Rishi had regarding the simple issue of top ups. Nor will I ever forget the conversation that Bhopu, Rishi and I had regarding the simple issue of |-x| = x. Bhopu and Rishi. Looks.

My favourite fucking piece of writing

One of the nine boys. That's what I am. Nine boys who are simply different. There's a tenth and an eleventh also. But 'nine boys' just sounds very nice so we stick to that :) Anyways, a long long time ago four of those nine boys (there was a fifth with them also but he wasn't as crazy (sorry Kitsy but even you know it)) decided that they would like to do college in the states together. And they decided to put together a 'group app' so to speak. An application that would present them as a group to an admissions officer across the Atlantic and make him believe that as a group they should be admitted together. Crazy isn't it?

This was a piece of writing that I came up with for that. It was to be part of a section that defined things. It was a 'What is' section. Pieces of writing that defined things that are all around us but we can't really put our finger on what they are exactly. I doodled on the comp screen for a while rambling on with my thoughts and not really saying much. Going round and round in circles. And then I came out of that maze. Just as recently I've come out of another maze. But that's private. Not publicly private. I was struck by an image. Like most good things, it came out of nowhere. It just came. Enjoy.

It’s two in the morning. The plane is at 29,000 feet. The enemy is below looking up. Missiles are activated, bombs are thrown, and bullets are shot. The door of the plane is opened. The abyss of darkness welcomes the brave. Parachutes are checked. They are all in order. The soldiers look inside and see home. They look up and see heaven. They look down and see hell. They take one last look at one another and close their eyes. They hold each others hands and jump.

It’s two in the morning. The duo is at 29,000 feet. One of them is below looking up. Minds are activated, picks are thrown, and prayers are said. The eyes are opened. The abyss of impossibility welcomes the brave. Tools are checked. They are all in order. The mountain climbers look around and see space. One of them looks up and sees hope. One of them looks down and sees despair. They take one last look at one another and close their eyes. They hold each others ropes and pull.

This is collaboration.

First words

Blogs are wierd. Somehow I have always wondered what purpose a blog really serves. Its marketed as an online diary kind of thing. I've always thought that why would someone want to publicise a diary of all the things. I mean a diary is supposed to be private. Why in the world would ANYONE want to broadcast it to the entire world?? I asked my sister what she thought about this deal. She said that its a web log kind of thing. And if she ever wanted to find out what was happening in anyone's life she would check that person's blog. I guess there is a line which demarcates what is private and what is publicly private.

So anyways, why is it that a blog cynic like me is starting one himself? I think its mainly because I'm interested in seeing what I myself come up with for this space. I love observing people. Its a habit. Make that a way of life. Sun signs and relationships are a few of my pet topics. The irony is that I never get to observe myself. I can't. I tried writing a diary for a bit. Tried to make it a habit. Didn't work out. In the sense that for the time that I was writing a diary I found myself behaving a bit erratically. At times I would just get completely into the flow of writing and lose myself in it. At other times I would simply not feel like writing.

So now I want to see how I maintain this blog. I kind of get the concept now. Its a mode of expression. An outlet.

'Happily unmasking' will be an amalgamation of thoughts. Thoughts written. Thoughts captured. Through words and pictures.

The first few pieces of writing that I will post are pieces that I have written over the years. This blog will not be a daily diary kind of thing. About how I spent the day and crap like that. It will have my thoughts and take on the things that I see around me.

Even though I say so myself, it will make for interesting reading.

Smiley faces are weird aren't they? The sentence above just gets emotionalised (this is a word but its the first time I'm using it and I was just giving myself a pat on the back for coming up with some reverse 'double speak'!) if I end it with a smiley. So here goes.

Even though I say so myself, it will make for interesting reading :)

So do read and leave a comment when you feel like it. Sign it if you know me. Sign it if you want to get to know me.

Lets express.