They See Me Rollin'

Spooky stories. They kept dishing it out - one after the other. And there I was, thinking nothing could embarrass me more than sitting cluelessly through a game of songs (antrakshari) and dumb-C. The stories kept rolling late into the night instilling roots of horror that persist still to the nights of the very present.

Our houseboat swayed clumsily as waves passed by. The silence broken only by harsh rustle of leaves on coconut groves lining both the sides of the lagoon we had anchored in. I had hoped to be out on the deck and commit to the philosophical gaze at the moon and the stars. It was perfect for that. The dark water mirroring the perfect black sky above. For once you didn't have to look up to see the stars. The stars looked up to you. You have to go down to the southern-west edge of the country to see that.
Still I stayed in; (Horror stories get to me!)  and clung on to the edge of the bed that all eleven of us were perched upon.

It was a good long night that was following what had been a good long day. First of the three that had been planned (and planned well by Rolly over a month earlier).

But what he hadn't planned was:
1. Idliappam: It was Chinese and it was south Indian at the same time. 'Persons' were also hungry at the same time. That helped.
2. Alleppey beach: The 4 hours between unboarding the train and boarding the houseboat were whiled away here. And whiled away well.  All 'persons' taking to the water immediately. Highlight of the morning being beach kabaddi, followed by tug of war with thin people (read me) being used as the rope; with the game just being an excuse to roll in the sand.
The fun kept rolling on that moment onwards.

Alleppey Arrival

Alleppey Beach - Rolly'in begins

Beach Kabaddi

Photobombing -'cause Dey wouldn't make time!

Tug - o - war

Customary Selfie

Alleppey was quieter, smaller and simpler than I had anticipated. Or may be it was just the off-season.
The local beach being a five minutes walk away was the first stop. Next stop being the Alleppey Finishing point where the houseboat was ready for us and the cruise.
The interior of the boat could make you forget that you do not have solid land underneath. You need that occasional sideways sway to remind you that you are floating.
The better part of the day was taken up by the sights that crossed by. Smaller canals leading to bigger ones. Boats crossing by lazily. Thin strips of land running parallel, dividing the waters around. Light green paddy fields, dark green coconut groves and even darker green water - still and flowing at the same time.

Customary Groupie

Backwaters

Village after village floated by. In the evening, the boat stopped by one of them. It was another thin strip of land. No wider than any Bangalore road but snaked along for as long as we could see. It had small stores, restaurants, fisheries and trees. Some coconut trees only as tall as us but still laden with orange fruits. Tempting enough to reach out and pluck one off. But be warned against doing so. We had in our company, a person to hurl back a coconut when the need arose. (Thank you Lord Brahma!). You might not be so lucky.

om nom nom morning

What Dey did best!

It was Kovalam the next day. How the place had changed from what I remembered it from six months back. The sea even more ferocious, had taken up the beach land, with the waves reaching right upto the walk-way of those crescent beaches.
As per the season, the rain became a constant companion. We saw it coming from the horizon until we met it and got drenched to the bone that evening; and again enroute the Lighthouse the next day. Although running out of dry clothes, we entered the sea with the last of the sets we had and made the visit to Kovalam worth its while.

Kovalam

At the LightHouse

photobomb

and photobomb

The return was the same way as we had arrived. Cooped in and chattering until we realised we have to let other people live.
Good times had rolled on.
Yet what stayed on was that sway of the boat, sand in my pockets and a skip in my step.
(And a video to be unbubblewrapped when laal becomes independent! :D)

****************************************************************************

Rights to exaggeration and bragging reserved.

Its not how it happened; its how you remember it.

No characterisation intended (esp the Minnie Mouse).

Data and information may have been skewed to suit the storyline.

Everything is relative to your perspective.

Sunday Mornings

The stars align, but once in a while, usually once in a long while.
A long weekend, a convergence of your circle of friends, an approved leave, a destination and a plan - these do come together...but like all good things, take their own sweet time.

While the current hiatus between two such consecutive events persists, I, along with my flatmate, have been marking our sundays, with 5 AM starts, setting off to places within a smaller distance radius, and being back by early evening. Over the last month or so, heres what we ticked off.

1. Hogenakal, Dharampuri (Tamil Nadu) - 180 Kms

The sobriquet for this place (as I had web-scraped) was 'Niagara of India'. Yes, thats a bit over the top, but it does somewhat lives up to it.
Hogenakal translates to 'smoking rocks' in the local dialect. The multiple falls feeding the river Kaveri flowing through the rocky gorge does conjure up that picture well.
I surely can say that the place would be one sight during peak monsoons.
The coracle (tub shaped mini boats) ride through those narrow gorges was worth the 4 hour ride we undertook to get there. (Blame the 4th hour on our indulgence in a detour off the highway and onto a road less travelled , yet much scenic - not beacuse we were trying to make Robert Frost happy, but because Google maps said it was shorter.)

2. Sharavanabelagola, Hassan - 160 Kms

That giant statue of Gomateshwara had been on my list for quite some time. Perhaps, after Kanyakumari, this mite be the second place where I have tried to lure people into accompanying me.
Finally, Dubjet Roi fell for it two weeks ago. And I dont think he was disappointed. (Maybe a little cause of that 650 step climb upto the sanctum sanctorum of the temple complex).
The statue looks like it was built yesterday, gleaming in the sun, standing tall..and once in every 12 years, pulling Jains all across the globe at its giant feet for the MahamastakABHISHEKa.

We could get there in a little over 2 hours. NH 48 is one smooth road, literally. Another eye pleasing sight is the village just before reaching the hill on which the statue stands. Ponds with lotuses, green meadows
and forest like gardens. I almost wished I owned one of those huts (or perhaps bulid one and put my Civil engineering degree to some use)...and lie in the cool shade of the tree outside...and read all five volumes of A song of ice and fire...and watch FIFA world cup. (Ofcourse, the hut will be wi-fi enable and with 24 hours of electricity supply.)
Cryptic find of the trip: Redbay Rediscovered.

3. Shivasamundaram, Mandya - 140 Kms

This is what personifies the hindi idiom - naam bade aur darshan chhote (Heavy names, shatter expectations). Or perhaps again it was just the bad timing. Waterfall - Monsoon. Period. Or you would have just taken a 3 hour ride for nothing.
The only good part was (again) a detour, (again thanks to google maps promising shortcuts). It took up to a narrow yet well metalled road with ups and downs like a roller coaster right out of Walter Mitty's daydreams. It culminated into a silent lake. Moment of the trip.

Expectation

Reality

4. Nandi Hills (Not to be confused with Nandi Hills, Great Rift Valley, Kenya) - 60 Kms

We went. We saw. And we came back.
Rest was all bullshit.
Enough said. (The more I say about it, the more I get attacked by people).

5. Horsley Hills - 120 Kms

We went. There was nothing to see. Yet we stayed for a day. and came back.
But this time it was not just the two of us. The people you can never get enough of were there. Thankfully. And hence the weekend was saved - by selfies, counting crocodiles, losing keys and sitting on the rocks.

and one more..
6. Hebbal - 20 Kms

It wasnt a sunday morning. Just a regular weeknight...only without electricity and with lots of mosquitoes.
There was blood. Hebbal - the escape. :P

****************************************************************************

Rights to exaggeration and bragging reserved.

Its not how it happened; its how you remember it.

No characterisation or hurting religious sentiments intended.

Data and information may have been skewed to suit the storyline.

Everything is relative to your perspective.

To draw a song

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'Anonymous'

By: Neha Ahlawat (www.nehaahlawat.com)

Motivation: Zen Pencils, Incidental Comics

For a long time I had harbored this idea of 'drawing up a song'. Something on similar lines as those great pages I mentioned above (under motivation).I have always found peace, joy, happiness and motivation in the works put up there.

And then I found this poem.

And I attempted to comprehend the lines by drawing some lines.

***************************************************************************

Rights to exaggeration and bragging reserved.
But the poem is not mine and I have given the due credits.

Images are copyrighted but what the hell, you can use them if you like.
No characterisation intended.
Everything is relative to your perspective.

The Love Of Many Things

The story goes with a disclaimer. If you ignored it, or left it mid-way, gravest of misfortunes may befall you. So I read through the whole of it. The complete Satyanarayan katha. And had a great time there onwards. Doing all things I love.
Thank you Lord Satyanarayan! - for a weekend getaway - with a semi adventurous journey - to a city with my dearest of  'wyaaun' people - where the biryani is billed to be the finest - and a landmark interesting enough for me to drag people about (and live upto my name).
And then be back quietly, play a tune or two, smile sheepishly, eat discreetly, sleep while they all talk around, wait for the intoxications to set in - and then let yourself chatter on until either they or I phase out.

All of that does it for me. Blissfully so.

No girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Or snowflakes that stay on my nose and my lashes
Or silver white winters that melt into springs
Though these too are some of my favorite things
I mostly am content with whatever's been happening. 

A lot is left to desire, but then a lot is always left to desire.
But if I find myself oiling your hair, something must have made me very happy. :D   ..so much so that I got that old homesick feeling again while leaving - like the one I used to get while leaving for college from home. But then again there's already something to look forward to.
Thankyou lord Satyanarayan!

Maybe I should have taken the lord's name before our journey began and saved ourselves from being stranded by the 'Kallad' Travels bus under the supermoon that Saturday dawn. With over half the distance yet uncovered, the thought of returning did strike us.
In their eyes I saw the same sleep that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it was not that day! An army of Kallad buses and double charging taxis may come crashing down. But not that day. That day we sat for hours on legs that longed for stretching. That day we travelled. 
And we saw the sunrise. (which we had missed in Goa, Pondicherry, Skandagiri and every other place where we thought we finally would)

The rest was always going to be good.
Concluding with a friend's work which I will take totally out of context to suit our own. :P

Ah! what bliss will this day fetch

No smile on their face it can stretch.

The hours that dawn heralds our way

are captured by the dusk at-bay.

What difference did it make to the one-

who discerns only night through the sun,

Then shall their lips twitch for a smile

Make them want to live for a while.

Source: http://nehaahlawat.wordpress.com/ 

***************************************************************************

Rights to exaggeration and bragging reserved.
Its not how it happened; its how you remember it.
No characterisation or hurting religious sentiments intended.
Data and information may have been skewed to suit the storyline.
Everything is relative to your perspective.