Again

There have been bomb blasts in my home city of Mumbai. Again.

Two years ago, we all watched in horror and disbelief as gunmen took over various points in the city taking people hostage for several days. The reports that come through on the TV seemed more like a video game than a real life situation. Before that, there was train bombings. Several of them over a few years. Before that, there were riots, burnings, looting, mass killings and more bomb blasts.

Each time, both local and international media sprung into action. Around the world, expats frantically punched in telephone numbers trying to get in touch with loved ones. We watched the news reports and read every article about the event. There was much discussion, lamenting, anger.

This time, nothing.

My dad texted me with the news. I went onto the BBC website and read the report, then read it again later in the day when there were more details. There was a sense of apathy as I read. Like I've heard all of this before and been through the motions. It wasn't much talked about when I got him and in fact we spent more time discussing the fall out from the phone hacking scandal in the UK.

There was a point where I felt a twinge of guilt. Was I supposed to be sadder? And it wasn't just me I realised. Mumbai, and by extension India as a whole seemed to have shrugged off the incident and moved on. Did that mean people were carelessly indifferent? And, does indifference necessarily have to be a bad thing? The cowards behind attacks like these are looking to cause chaos and fear. But, they are also looking to milk the aftermath of the media attention for their own cause. Taking their cues from the Hollywood A-listers, they know that the more people talk about them the more power they have to cause fear.

What would happen if no one paid any attention? I wonder.

Tired Mind, Aching Heart

The month in India was over all too soon. Before I knew it, I was rushing around the house trying to locate all of my clothes and random belongings to shove into bags that were crammed packed. so crammed packed that I needed to go buy a new carry on bag. Red. Very Snazzy. Me Likey!

In spite of my flippant attitude to leaving, the heart was heavy indeed. The biopsy results came back on the 4th. The dreaded C word was confirmed. A chill crept around everyone's hearts, but we tried to stay positive. Find out more, the docs said. So, the day before I left, Papa was taken in for a PET scan. Again, there was the drama of calling for a cardiac ambulance, telling him about going in for more tests, fasting before the tests, calming him, reassuring him. Stressful for everyone.

Leaving was so very hard. But I had come to make my peace, say goodbye. And so I did. One last kiss, one last hug, one last look. All burned into my memory. They now need to last a lifetime.

Year End Snippets

Internet access on this trip has been scanty at best. Which hopefully is a good enough explanation/excuse for my appalling lack of blog updates over the last little bit. The only times I can get online to check mail or check FB or dash off a quick post is when I can erm, "borrow" a signal from some hapless neighbour who has forgotten to secure his wireless connection. Like now!

Post surgery, we ALL felt better, not just Papa. There is the little issue of the biopsy results, but for now, we are making like ostriches and have our collective heads firmly buried in the sand and are only focusing on the here and now and the present. The rest, we will deal with as it comes.

Keeping that in mind, I have been doing my very best to catch up on meetings with friends over the past week or so which would explain my being out every single night ever since the 24th. Days are for family, nights are for friends!

One of the highlights of these nights out was the St. Anne's Choir reunion that my friend Maestro organised. Background: A bunch of us used to sing for the 6pm Sunday evening mass at our parish church. We'd been doing this for around 6 years when I left, and they continued to sing as a group for another 3 years after that until Maestro left to do an MBA in the US of A. 8.5 years later, we were back for a One Night Only "performance". We were older, fatter, taller, wiser(?) and in many cases with little versions running around; but our voices still blended just as well as before and we totally rocked the house church! Said my little cousin as we made our way to church that evening: You haven't MET each other in 8 years, let alone SANG together and the mass is at 7pm and its already 6:27 right now which gives you less than half an hour to practice!!! Can you pull this off??? The same cousin to her mum later that night; They hadn't even MET in 8 years and they didn't even have half an hour of practice and they were AWESOME!

And so have passed these last few days, with celebratory pre dinner drinks and dinners and post dinner coffees and the likes. Took a quick jaunt downtown with Maestro and another visiting friend (M&M) from "the abroad" who is also an ex Xaverite, like myself. Which was good enough reason to pay a visit to our Alma Mater. We even made a quick stop at the Psychology classrooms and labs high up in the rafters of the college where both M&M and I worked and slaved during our final years. OK, so perhaps M&M did just a *leetle* more slaving than I did, but hey, that's besides the point. We did meet a bunch of wannabe psych grads who were in the current process of slavery over journals - pointless copying of notes, observations and inferences into big fat log books that no one really bothered to read - and de-lighted their bogged down little minds with narrations of our past exploits in the very same classrooms eons before. I do believe that they were considerably bolstered by actual evidence that other persons had gone through the same boring mind numbing experience and somehow lived to tell the tale!

Which brings us to today. The last day of 2009. A chance to say goodbye to the year that has been and greet with open arms the year that is to come.

But first, I must go to the airport to pick up Jo who arrived in from Goa today to spend New Year's eve and the next few days with me before heading back home to Japan. Need to greet her before the new year!

Sigh of Relief

The ordeal over Papa's surgery began about the time when my grandmother passed away. The visiting family (including my mum and dad) began to notice that Papa was having trouble swallowing during meals. He was already on a mashed diet, so the docs were called in. A growth was detected in his esophagus and windpipe. The docs advised us to wait it out. He might just be able to keep going in spite of it, they said. The weeks passed, and it got worse. His breathing was laboured and every meal started to become torturous for both him, and those around him. By the time I arrived into Bombay, we knew that there was no alternative other than surgery to ease his pain. Although it would be a simple enough operation, the risks were much higher given his advanced age. Still, it was either that or literally watch him choke to death.

And so, surgery was scheduled for the 26th. It was the first time the poor man was leaving the house in almost 8 years. That in itself was a trauma for all concerned as we had to call in a cardiac ambulance and he had be to carried out on a stretcher. He looked so pale and so worried that we all wondered if that was the right choice. Would we see him again?

My aunt, two uncles and a cousin and the day nurse went off to the hospital. The rest of us stayed home and fidgeted and jumped like cats on hot bricks each time the phone rang. Seeing as it was just the day after Christmas, it rang a lot!

The surgery was postponed twice; first the doctor was delayed, then an emergency took precedence. Finally, we got a call that he was out and in the post opp. It had been a tough operation, the docs said. Touch and go at one point. They were only able to remove about 70% of the mass. Still, he rallied through and they were confident he'd be fine. But they kept him in the ICCU for that night, just to be safe.

We took turns to troop to the hospital the next day. And how we all marvelled! The wheezing had disappeared, his voice was stronger and more confident, his cheeks had a bit of colour (after ages) and his meals were going down a treat! And impatient. He didn't like being cooped up in a hospital room. He wanted to get down and move around. The docs looked impressed when they came around. Get him home, they said. We don't want him catching anything here. Filthy places, hospitals! And besides, he's giving the 70 year olds a complex!

When they were bringing him home, the cardiac specialist who assisted with the surgery swung by to say goodbye. Papa, take care of yourself, he said shaking hands with his oldest patient. Oh, and don't forget to have your glass of "Holy Water" tonight! Splendid stuff! Keeps everything in good working order!

And so, he's home now. Safe and sound and back to drinking whisky! Let's hope that he stays that way for a long long while!

O Holy Night

Today, I celebrated Christmas with my family. It wasn't anything fancy, but yet it was a grand celebration. There was a lot of noise as everyone talked all at once not bothering to consider if anyone was actually listening. Family trait. The food that graced the table was wholesome and plentiful, old family favourites made by loving hands.

The wee Christmas tree had been dragged out from storage, dusted down and installed a few days ago amidst a controversy of whether or not it was "proper" to put it up this year given my grandmother's recent passing. Common sense prevailed and we all thought about her as we decorated it with love. On Christmas day, it turned out to be a very handy place holder for the numerous money envelops from those of us who had been too ill prepared (read: lazy) to actually go out and buy prezzies! Whoever said money doesn't grow on trees?
Post lunch, the cousins all changed into their "costumes" for the home-made production of the Nativity play. Yes, this would have been humiliating under normal circumstances, but since it was for the benefit of my 95 year old grandpa, we all swallowed our pride and put on a good show.

Of course, there was the usual back stage shenanigans; Mary was sent off to change as her original costume was too flashy, the angel was behaving anything BUT and had to be given a stern talking to, two of the three kings were in a squabble over which one had the bigger crown, Joseph insisted that his teddy bear be given a role and so we had the shepherd carry him in as a sheep and to crown it all, the baby doll that was to play the Christ child went missing and was found mere minutes before the show. As show producer (and official photo take-outer) I handeled it all with my usual grace and composure.


When all the food had been eaten, the presents unwrapped, the costumes put away and the general hustle and bustle of the day had died down, the youngins took a walk down to the promenade by the sea and brought a most wonderful Christmas day to close gazing out into the sparking light of the moon over the sea.

Tomorrow, Papa will be going in for surgery to remove the growth that was obstructing his windpipe and oesophagus. We did not want to think about what the morrow may bring. For now, this was our Silent Night. All was still calm, still bright.

Homecoming

The journey from the UK wasn't as long I'd expected. A very comfortable seat on a very comfortable airline helped with the jet lag - almost none this time.

Familiar faces met me at the airport, took my bags, gave me hugs, filled me in on all the local khabbar* on the ride home.

Its been 3 years. Outwardly, the city has expanded. Buildings are taller and leaner and now full of shiny reflective surfaces that shine and shimmer in the noon day sun. There are more billboards and everyone seems to be sporting a cell phone; vegetable vendors and building watchmen included. The Bandra-Worli link is (finally) complete and rises majestically out of the Arabian sea - if you can even spot it through the city's thick smog that is!

Underneath though, much has remained the same.

The traffic is still crazy and chaotic, with everyone following their own version of road (non)sense.
The shops are still multiplying, and the people are still shopping with a vengeance. (what recession?)
The dogs still roam the streets, barking madly at anything and anyone that dares intrude into their territory.
The noise of the cawing crows still wakes you up at unearthly morning hours.
The clack-clack of the milkman's pails still makes a nice tune as his cycles down the street on his rounds. Now, not as many since most prefer the packaged product.
Hill Road in Bandra is still more of a Hell Road even though this is the first time it hasn't been dug up in almost 3 years!

And yet, after the hellos and the hugs and the kisses and the all important hug(s) to Papa; after the thrill of being back had died down, after I sat down in the living room and look across to where Nana would have usually sat, I knew that no matter how joyous my homecoming, it was not complete without her smile and laugh and her hand on my head.


*Hindi word for news

Twelve Days to Holiday Bliss

Do you hear what I hear? The sound of a fast approaching vacation! In just 12 days, I will be landing on the shores of my original hometown. I haven't lived there for ages, but every time I go back I seem to be able to slip right into the rhythm of things. And every time I have gone back, the city - and its people - have welcomed me back with open arms.

So much to see. People to visit. Old stomping gounds to discover all over again. In 12 days, my true love city I will see. And in that city, there will be:

Twelve bottles of home-made rice wine a-drinking
Eleven different kinds of Christmas sweeties
Ten ex-pat friends a-visiting
Nine ladies dancing (and some gentlemen too)
Eight (Christmas) choirs singing
Seven friend's babies a-wailing
Six pints at Toto's (gonna need that after those tots)
Five days laying on a beach! (in Goa)
Four calling birds
Three precious words
Two celebrations of love
And a Grandpa who I just can't wait to see!

Dial D for Drama

It has been 8 years since I've lived in India. Breathed the air. Walked the streets. Fought the traffic. Dealt with the bureaucracy. Especially the bureaucracy.

No one does red tape quite like the Indians. They looked, listened and learned from the British and then took it to a whole new level. The Indian government's favourite dance? Making everyone do the Run Around!

Last week, I applied for a tourist visa for my upcoming December trip. Filled out the paperwork, took the pictures, paid the fees online, even downloaded the online checklist to make sure that hadn't missed anything. Went off to the agents here in Glasgow to submit the documents. The fact that the agency was located on the top floor of a local Punjabi centre wasn't the strange part. That you actually had to walk through the main dining/cafeteria area to get to the stairs was what I found a bit odd. Anyway, it was early in the morning and except for one sleepy looking lady who was dreamily making sandwiches, the place was deserted.

Got upstairs and submitted all the documents to the agent. He goes through my application and then asks to see my Indian passport. Eh? That wasn't on the list! I explain that since I've only moved here temporarily, I don't have old (and outdated) documents. It's all back in Toronto. He says that I'll need to submit a copy of the pages that show the passport has been cancelled.

That involved a lot of rushing back home, making a call to Canada, waking up my brother, getting him to scan and email the pages to me and then back to the agency before it closed at 2:30pm. This time, the reception area was filled with old Punjabi men and women sitting around watching Zee TV and drinking masala chai. All conversation ceased as I made my way through the chairs and around the sofas to get to the door feeling like a contestant on a freak show!

Mr. Agent Man thanked me for the additional documents and told me that it would be about 2 weeks for the visa. In turn, I gently (but firmly) asked that he make sure the website was updated with such information.

That would have been a great end to the story.

Instead, today I get a call from the Consulate in Edinburgh telling me that the photocopies are not adequate and that will need to submit the original cancelled passports.

More frantic calls to Canada. More running around by my brother. More expense as he has to pay extra to have it expressed mailed since the postal guys in Scotland are planning a strike next week.

Indian f*cking red tape bullshit. Just when I think I'm out.... they drag me back in.

Book Review - The Tree Bride

Back in December, I picked up this book only because I needed one more book to get in on a 4 for $20 deal. I tucked it away in the basement and forgot all about it. Some weeks ago, a coworker who is also an avid reader – and is very interested in Indian novels and literature – happened to mention this book, and I remembered that I actually owned it. Went looking for it in the basement and spied it jammed between an Enid Blyton mystery and Jim Herriot’s Tales of a Country Vet.

Reading the book’s jacket synopsis, might lead you to believe that The Tree Bride is just another book about a person of Indian origin, now living somewhere in the US trying to figure out that fine balance between being true to where they come from and merging with where they now belong. To my surprise, it was more.

Not unlike many other Indians living abroad, Mukherjee’s protagonist Tara is searching for her roots. Her search is focused on a very interesting ancestor and her namesake; a woman who, as a young girl was married to a tree. What is unlike other such stories is that this book is not just about Tara and her quest, but also a look into one of the most interesting times in Indian history – the last days of the Raj. As the story swings between modern day San Francisco, Calcutta of the late 1800s and North Britain in the early/mid 1950s Mukherjee’s novel draws the reader into Tara’s journey of self discovery into her past and the amazing coincidence of connections that form her present life.
When researching the author, I found out that The Tree Bride is actually book two of a trilogy and having read this one I am quite eager to read more of Mukherjee's work. Most interesting would be the book that she co authored with her husband Clarke Blaise on the terrorist bombing of Air India flight 182 - The Sorrow and the Terror: The Haunting Legacy of the Air India Tragedy. Known as Canada's largest mass murder and the worst flight disaster until the September 11 attacks, the bombing of flight 182 killed all 329 passengers on board. 20 years later, families of the victims are still waiting to see justice.

Book Review - King of Bollywood – SRK and the Seductive World of Indian Cinema

More popular than Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt rolled into one, Shah Rukh Khan has dominated the Bollywood movies for over 15 years. A veritable ruler of the box office, “King Khan” story is the stuff that dreams are made of. Hailing from a small middle class family who’s roots are in modern day Pakistan, Shah Rukh Khan did what so many others only dreamed of – broke into an industry that has traditionally been controlled by only a handful of film making families and held his own against all odds. A Muslim hero in a dominantly Hindu industry (and country) The Khan’s story is one that blends family heartbreaks, guts and grit and sometimes sheer luck as we meander through one man’s journey to the dizzying heights of fame and success. The author, Anupama Chopra (who also hails from a “filmy” family) has a nice breezy style of writing and through this book we learn not only about Khan’s story but also that of Indian cinema – in all its gore and glory.

A Lament for an Unknown Soul

Last Thursday night at around 9pm we received "the" call from Bombay. My mother's brother had passed away at the hospice early on the morning of February 22; less than 3 months after he was first diagnosed with cancer. It was a phone call that we had all been expecting. The last word we'd received just a few days before that was that the doctors had told the family that absolutely nothing more could be done and now it was just a matter of time. 

So when I finally heard the words that he had passed away, it was a mere numb feeling that went along with the confirmation of a fact.

Once the news had settled in, there was the unpleasant reality of the truth that I was left to deal with. The truth that I did not really mourn his passing. The truth that I did not feel a loss. The truth that his death would only slightly affect me and my daily life.

This was a person who for as long as I could remember had been at odds with most of the family. I had not said more than 5 consecutive words to him in all of my life. I had never shared a meal with him, never indulged in a laugh over common family jokes or memories and never really knew him as an individual.

Everything that I knew about him was either through hearing negative stories from other family members or watching first hand his actions and words that were very often hurtful and destructive and downright mean at times. The family got together last Friday to have a prayer service for him. The entire time I tried to focus my thoughts towards some kind of happy or positive memory. I could not think of even one.

I was highly disturbed by the fact that I had known someone for my entire life, and that I could not come up with a singular positive thought or feeling or emotion to link to him. Isn't that what one is expected to do when one thinks of the dead? Especially at a prayer service FOR that person. But try as I may, I was drawing a blank.

I wondered what the rest of the family was thinking. There were 3 siblings present that night. One of whom hadn't spoken to him in around 30 years. The other 2 met him once every few years when they went to India. What were they thinking and remembering?
I looked around the room at the respectfully bowed heads of my family. There was a sense of loss in the room. But was there a sense of grief at that loss?

And yet, if there had been tears and other signs of unabashed sorrow I probably would have been more surprised. And I would have known those to be false tears. False mourning.

So I whispered a prayer for the soul of an unknown man. A prayer that he finds the peace he was lacking in life. A peace that will be forever.

Recipe for the Perfect Masala

I first heard about author Stephen Alter last December when I was in London. Browsing through the shelves of my friend's home library, my eye caught upon an interesting title - Elephas Maximus - A Portrait of the Indian Elephant. The book was a unique blend of myth, legend, zoology and storytelling about the gentle grey giant of the Indian subcontinent. A must read for anyone who loves anything about those pachyderms! I was curious to read more by Stephen Alter, especially when I found out the subject matter of his other books and then a little more about him. I was finally able to get my hands on a relatively cheap copy of Fantasies of a Bollywood Love Thief recently and haven't been able to put it down.


A first hand insider's view of the world of Indian movie making, ....Love Thief tells about the making of the movie Omkara an Indian retelling of Shakespeare's Othello. Set in the harsh arid plains of North India the story and characters all take on very Indian personas. Othello becomes Omkara, Desdemona is Dolly and Cassio is Kesu. The island of Cyprus is the village of Cypra and instead of warriors and soldiers the story is about a local gang lord and his lady love and his lieutenants.

More than just a telling of one movie, the book takes us through a journey of movie making that is as similar and yet as different from any other. Going behind the scenes, the author explores not only the movie but what lies behind it as well - the actors, directors, producers, musicians and the host of other unknowns on who's shoulders lie the success or failure of an industry that produces on average 900 movies a year.

Growing up in Bombay - the LA to India's Bollywood - Hindi movies were always part of my life. Although I didn't start going to see Hindi movies in the theatre until I was in high school, I remember settling down with my grandmother's maid most Sunday evenings to watch the week' showing. At a time when TV was limited to 3 channels 1 of which was in a regional language I didn't quite follow, we took what we got on TV and we cherished every moment. My grandmother was not really a Hindi movie fan, but was nevertheless obsessed with 2 particular Hindi movies - "Bobby" and "Aradhana" and because they owned the VHS we would watch those over and over until we all knew the dialogues by heart!

When I began college in my mid teens, movies... and Hindi movies in particular took on a whole new persona. There were 4 cinema halls a mere 10 minutes walk from the college and another 3 a short cab ride away. My circle of friends expanded from the very "Christian centric" group that living in a Catho-ville suburb like Bandra accorded, to a more multi cultural group from not only all over Bombay.. but all over India as well. Although everyone liked a good Hindi movie as much as the next guy, one friend in particular was passionate about the world of movies and through his passion, I was drawn into this glittering, gaudy, girating world of Bollywood at the movies.

In his book, Stephen Alter says

"The precise ingredients for a good blend of masala may vary according to the cook, but no matter what the recipe, this pungent concoction of spices excites all five senses.
Masala is the word most often used to describe a combination of elements that go into making a successful Bollywood film. Once again, the ingredients and quantities may be adjusted, with extra measures of romance, sex, violence or suspense, depending on the script. All these are simmered together to form a saucy cinematic curry that keeps audiences coming back for seconds."

And since my life is entirely devoid of masala right now - be it romantically or literally in my food, I turn to my daily dose of Bollywood to spice things up and raise a fire in my belly that keeps me warm through these oh so cold... oh so un Bollywood-like winter nights.

Phir Melenge! (We'll meet again)

Many many wonderful people - friends, family and perfect strangers - have all helped make my stay here a totally awesome experience.

Thanks for the late night walks on Carter Road followed by the most delish mango kulfi!

Thanks for the "hang out" sessions at the Bandra Gym.

Thanks for introducing me to Totos, Pecoes and Blossoms!

Thanks for the shopping sprees to Colaba Causeway and Fab India.

Thanks for the trips to Aurangabad, Rajasthan, Hyderabad and Karnataka.

Thanks for the weddings, christenings, pre and post wedding parties, housewarmings and for-the-heck-of-it parties!

Thanks for taking time out to meet up, even if it was for a rushed cup of coffee - it means a lot to me.

Thanks for letting me crash at your place and saving me hostel costs!

Saalam Bombay.....hum phir melenge.

What... just 7 days to go??!!

Ever since I got back from the south, things have moved at a super-fast pace, and I suddenly find myself with just a mere 7 days left in India! Somehow, 3 months have just raced by and I'm having to get ready for a new leg of this seemingly never ending adventure! 


The past 2 weeks since I returned to Bombay have been a mix of parties with friends, parties with family, long walks on the promenade, a visit to the Bombay courts (no, I didn't get into trouble), eating pani puri at Elco's, drinking at Toto's and hanging out with Nana and Papa. 


Scribbler has been here for the past few days together with her college roomie. Her fiance was also down from Bangalore, so it was a lovely reunion of sorts. Since it was the first time everyone was together, we had a little party for the happy couple (that they didn't know was for them) at my grandparents place on Saturday. There was much eating and drinking and making merry and plenty of embarrasing family details were disclosed! Fortunately he still wants to marry her and in fact they went off to the courts this morning to give in their one month notice of "intent to marry". Apparently they have to do since they're from different religions and need to get married under the "Special Marriage Act"! The happy event is set to take place in the 1st week of June.

My mum's sister and her husband who were in India for a month left for Toronto on Sunday night. Thankfully they were travelling light(ish) and I was able to send back almost 20kgs of my stuff with them! Thanks-be-to-God coz there was no-way-in-hell I would have been able to carry all that back with me! Ironically, I can only take 20kgs from BOM to London, but am allowed 46 kgs on the London Toronto leg - Go figure!

Thanks to my baggage weight dilemma, Sanch will be inheriting most of the clothes I brought with me and then and only then will I have space for the really important stuff like my books and the cool Tanjore paintings and other random house stuff I bought in India. 


Looking back at the list I made of things I HAD to do in Bombay, I'm happy to report that I did, saw, ate, met, visited and witnessed them all... and much much more!


Time to move on and have new adventures.


Side Note: I've been getting a few comments on how tedious it is to look at all my holiday pics - hey I can't HELP it if I take 100s of pics! - so have tried to reorganise the pics into sets with just the "best" ones and that should make life easier for all.

New Places, New Experiences

Been on the road for over a week now and somehow this southern trip seems more relaxed and reflective than the Rajasthan experience. I'm glad I made the decision to have longer stays in some places and that's given me the opportunity to both catch my breath and catch up with others!

The two days I spent in Hampi were terrific - I'll have to say it even beats my Udaipur experience. I loved the fact that I could wander all over the countryside and "discover" little shrines and ruins all along the way. I walked all over the area north of the river on the first day and on day two, rented a bicycle and spent a glorious morning biking down tranquil country roads lined with banana fields on either side.

Hampi was the first place where I was truly "alone". Up until now, in every place I visited, I either knew people or had travelling companions. For the first time ever I was travelling totally on my own, and I really enjoyed it! It was really nice being able to do your own thing and not have to consult anyone else along the way. I also realised that you tend to meet more people when you're travelling along - other travellers are more inclined to strike up a conversation when you're alone as opposed to if you're already with someone else. I met some really nice people in Hampi and hope to meet them again along then way in the south.

After 2 days in Hampi, I arrived in Bangalore, India's IT capital. I've been staying with my cousin and her husband and their cute little 3 year old who's constant chatter has keep me entertained over the past 3 days! Didn't do a whole lot of sighseeing here - it was more of a rest stop before the next intense leg! It was nice catching up cuz who I haven't met in about 11 years.

Met up with cuz Scribbler's fiance) for lunch yesterday, and a post lunch "just one pint" turned into a full afternoon session! It was nice to really be able to get to know him - our previous meeting in Bombay had been quite rushed, and sans alcohol! He took me to Pecoe's - Bangalore's oldest pub. And I do mean a REAL pub - something Bombay is sorely lacking, and I've been missing! Inspite of being just off one of Bangalore's main and busiest shopping streets, Pecoe's still manages to drown out the noise and chaos of the city and allows you to down ice cold goodness and sink into the mood music in its deep (and very dark) interior. Top marks for ambiance, service and quite good masala fries as well!

Went back to Brigade Street today to check out this bookstore that Scribbler had reccomended. 2 hours later I staggered out of there bent under the burden of my new purchases! Let me introduce you to the newest members of my bookshelves:
The Man in the Brown Suit
The Listerdale Mystery
A Murder is Announced
Cat Among the Pigeons
At Bertram's Hotel
The Regatta Mystery
The Mysterious Mr. Quinn
Funerals are Fatal
- Agatha Christie

If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What am I Doing in the Pits?
I Lost Everything in the Post Natal Depression
- Erma Bombeck

Yes, He is the Best: A collection of TOI cartoons
- R. K Laxman
Ice Candy Man
- Bapsi Sidhwa

The Hungry Tide
The Glass Palace
- Amitav Ghosh

And, for that mandatory fluff factor:
Bridget Jones, The Edge of Reason
- Helen Fielding

That brings my total book count to well over 20. Any one with ANY ideas on how I'm going to get them all home - drop me a line!

Days in the Deccan

Hyderabad has been a lot of fun!

A great mix of meeting up with family and friends and seeing a new city.

My first night here, Scribbler took me to a lovely waterfront restaurant along the shores of Hussein Sagar, Hyderabad's man made lake. R, a mutual cousin (from the Goa branch of the phamily) joined us as well, and since I hadn't met him in something like 15 years it was quite the reunion!

Friday was a full day of lectures for Scribs, so I took off to the "old city" to amuse myself. Unfortunately I forgot that in a predominantly Muslim city, most attractions are closed on a Friday, so after a quick peek at the Charminar and a round at the Salar Jung Museum to see the Nizam's Jewels that were on display I decided to call one of my aunt's old school friends and go visit her. 2 hours and 3 buses later I was standing hesitantly at the side of the road waiting for her to pick me up! Meeting J and her family was worth the effort and later that evening she took me to an artisan's village where I picked up 2 lovely Tanjore paintings for our house.

Getting back to the very other end of town to CIEFL was quite an adventure, and if it were not for an extremely kind girl who I met at the bus stand, I might still be lost in the city! Not only did she give me a ride to a less crowded bus stop, but she waited till I got onto the right bus and gave me detailed instructions for my change over! Thanks a bunch Pratipa... where ever you are!

Golconda Fort was supposed to be on the agenda for Saturday, but Scribs and I both slept in and we had to revisit our plans. Before we could decide anything concrete, J called and told us that if we wanted, we could get to her place in the early evening and then she'd drive us to the fort and back to catch the daily sound and light show at sunset! Mighty pleased with this plan, we set off for the old city again and this time stopped in at the Chowmahalla Palace which used to be the seat of the Asaf Jai dynasty and the official residences of the Nizams (the rulers) of Hyderabad.

The second time around, the journey to J's place was far easier and that evening we drove to the ancient fort of Golconda which is located on the outskirts of the city. Once a mighty establishment that was the seat of the Deccan Empire, most of the fort now lies in ruins. Every evening at sundown a sound and light show walks visitors through the Fort's impressive history, outlining important events and offering an insight into bygone times.
After a very well rested night at J's place and a lovely "home made" breakfast, Scribs and I reluctantly said goodbye to J and her family and made our way back home. Stopped off for lunch at the Paradise Restaurant, Hyderabad's most famous landmark that started off as a simple one room Irani restaurant and is today a 4 floor, multi cuisine restaurant! R was able to join us again, so the "cousins" enjoyed a lovely and utterly delish biryani lunch together later washed down with ice cream at the funniest little ice cream parlor nearby. Back at CIEFL now and just a few hours left here in Hyderabad before I have to catch my train to Hampi. From IT city, to the ruins of an ancient empire - my journey goes on!

On the road again

Left Bombay last evening and took a 13 hour bus ride to start off the next leg of my "Discover India" tour.

First stop, Hyderabad to meet up with cousin Scribbler who is doing her Masters in Literature at CIEFL. Will be spending 4 glorious days trying to catch up on a backlog of 2 years worth of random chats and general gossip. Of course we do that on msn, but its just not the same!

After Hyderabad, will be moving on the ancient city of Hampi (the seat of the Vijaynagara Empire) and then to Bangalore where I will catch up with more cousins - not so well known, but nice enough to let me crash at their places regardless! Its then on to Mysore, Somnathpur and Sravanbelagola for quicky day trips and heading back to Bombay on March 8th.

Tune in to updates on what, when and where in the world is the Pixy Princess!

Puzzles and Prezzies!

Somehow I got switched over to the "new" Blogger. I tried to sign in today and the old one simply didn't exist anymore! Talk about being arm twisted into something! 


Then when I was trying to create a google account, I was told that I already have one! This was news to me. I have no recollection what-so-ever of creating anything like that. Good heavens, I only JUST turned 26 yesterday, and already things are fading from my LTM. what's next? Night blindness and tunnel vision? Phantom pains in my joints? *gulp*


On the flip side, I did have a lovely birthday!


I was able to celebrate with my gradparents and my B'bay family after 6 years. My Nana hosted a little "party" lunch for a few close relatives and friends and we had a lovely Chinese lunch from 5 Spice - which I was told was THE latest thing in Chinese take out - followed by delish cake-and-ice-cream, follow by a hilarious round of "personities" which left all the participants helpless with laughter!


My birthday present to myself was a free-for-all at the nearest bookstore where I came away with 8 new friends for my bookshelves.


Other exciting prezzies included a beautiful new wristwatch from Nana and Papa, a earing and chain set and clothes from Very Best Friend and her family, more clothes from the family, a diary and book - I Capture the Castle - from my cuz Scribbler her fiance and finally loads of do-what-you-what-with-it cash from other family that will definitely come in handy on my upcoming trip to the south of India. Quite a nice haul I say!

Just when I though my day was done, some of my friends swung by and took me out for Birthday drinks which was a very nice end to a very nice birthday! 


More fun follows tonight at another friend's place who's birthday is also on the 16th.

Meet the Grandparents

Just realised that since I've been yammering on and on about "my family" et all, it might be usedful if you can see what they actually look like!

We begin with two of the nicest most amazing grandparents in the whole world....here's Nana and this is Papa and here's the two of them looking too cute for words! Jolly good for 93 and 83 eh??

A bit blue in the blue city....

Arrived into the "blue" city of Jodhpur this morning - the final stop on our 11 day Rajasthan tour. After the calm of Pushkar, the friendlyness of Udaipur and the wild beauty of Jaisalmer, Jodhpur seem almost mundane but for the imposing fort that overlooks the city. Very tired and beary eyed we stumbled towards the hotel we had pre booked only to find that they were NOT prepared for us and the washrooms were in a deplorable condition. Feeling quite miserable, we dumped our bags and headed out to find breakfast, but it was too early for any decent joint to be open. Since Charlene had to catch a 1 pm flight out to Delhi, we decided to head right to the fort and get that off our list of "things we have done!"

The fort was absolutely spectacular and our guide was the funniest old man who kept distributing toffee to all the workers in the fort! Unlike Jaisalmer fort where my camera decided to die on me, I was able to take (literally) hundreds of pics at Jodhpur and they can be seen here and here and here and many more online!

In the brighter light of day, our accomodations didn't seem half as bad and after Charlene had freshned up, we parted ways and our company was reduced to two. Feeling rather triste Charmaine and I spent the rest of the day wandering aimlessly around Jodhpur and in an affort to cheer up called our respective homes and had a quick word with our families. Later we chanced upon this little internet cafe and have been surfing away for the past hour or so now.

Although our holiday has been wonderful and we've seen and done more than we'd imagined, I think Rajasthan and its "wildness" is gnawing on us just a wee bit and we're both longing for our own beds and more so our own SHOWERS again! Seriously, I would give anything for a shower with even semi warm water and any sort of pressure other than a drizzle right now!

Taking up from my last narrative, I can now say without doubt that my fav place in Rajasthan was Udaipur. Perhaps it was the fact that it was the place where we stayed the longest, hence we were the least "hassled" there. We had ample time to take in the sights and sounds of the city at our own pace and there was time enough to just relax instead of being in "tourist" mode 24/7. The City Palace (incidently one of the largest palace complexes in the world) - the first of many that we saw - took my breath away with its intricate carvings and ornate windows and minutely decorated pillars.

Of course, when in Udaipur one MUST attend one of the nightly screenings of the 007 movie Octopussy which has the distinction of being set in the city and filmed on site at many of the famous havelis and palaces around. Bond movies are always rediculous in my (humble) opinion and this one is the pinnacle of unrealistic storylines! Heaps fun all the same!

After 3 glorious days in the "white" city, we moved on westward deep into the Thar desert to the border town of Jaisalmer. On the way we stopped for early morning chai in Pokhran a tiny little blurb on the map unknown until 1997 when India used this blurb to conduct nuclear testing. Call me finicky, but I refused to drink the tea there!

I found Jaisalmer to be a curiously timewarped place. Inspite of the thousand of tourists that flok there each year, the city still manages to shroud itself in a veil of mystique and at times is totally oblivious to the fact that the rest of the world just ushered in 2007.

We spent one night camping out in the desert and did a camel "safari" early the next morning. Watching the sun rise over the distant dunes definitely ranks in my top 10 "most awesome life moments"! I also loved the very unique feel to Jaisalmer Fort which unlike Jodhpur was a "living fort" with over 2500 individuals who till today live and work within the ancient walls that yet encircle the marvel of architecture that majestically rises out of the desert sands. Built entirely out of the yellow sandstone commonly found in the region, from a distance the fort seems to be almost a flicker of the imagination as it shimmers in the heat of the midday sun. I could almost imagine the fort's architects using this trick of the sun as a defense against potential invaders. And it worked too, as according to the historical references it all its existance, only once did the fort fall into enemy hands - and even then, very briefly.

And that brings me back to the present. We have one more day in Jodhpur tomorrow and then we take the overnight train to Jaipur where we'll catch our flight back to Bombay.

My adventures will cease - for now - but the memories will be forever.