Weekend Trip

We had planned a getaway to Nalagarh in Himachal Pradesh this weekend where Friday was also an off day. We wanted a tranquil place, free from numerous tourists or commercialism. The traveller’s guide and internet projected this little town as a paradise for honeymoon couples, a place for long walks and scenic beauty... just what we wanted!

What excited us all the more was no one seemed to know, or even have heard about the place. So off we went on Thursday night. About seven hours later, at about 4.40 AM, the bus dropped us at a deserted junction, “This IS Nalagarh”, the driver asserted.

We looked around doubtfully at whatever we could make out in the dark: a four armed fork shaped junction with a traffic police shelter in the middle. A dimly-lit clearing on the other side meant to be the bus stand. One arm of the junction was an obvious market street, with series of closed shops. A tea shop was open on another arm. That was perhaps the only sign of life that could be seen. We hung around the bus stand for about an hour as the town awoke to life. Auto rickshaws, shared automobiles, school buses, local buses, regional buses, trucks and lorries. Sipping tea, we studied the flow pattern to assess the directions of development and decide on our first plunge to Nalagarh. Our mission was mainly to find a hotel.

Few metres down the junction, we found one. Encouraged, we chose to delve further. It was a straight road with sparse development around. We came across a hotel called ‘Hotel River View’… “There must be a river around”, we inferred. We walked down the slope carrying our bags with us, finally reaching Chikni River, now just a rivulet used mainly for washing of trucks. There was a broken bridge, but the trucks had found a way to reach the water.. and the water was shallow enough to allow crossing. People were also crossing the river effortlessly, although the current was fairly strong. I had a try myself.

We came back to the bus stand and enquired around for Nalagarh fort, which was apparently the only tourist attraction. Well, no one seemed to know what we were talking about, except a policeman. We checked in a hotel, freshened up and caught up on some sleep. A few hours later, we had lunch and went on an excursion to find the fort. It was on the higher part of the city which we reached through a mix of roads sloping up and steep flights of steps. The Nalagarh Fort Complex entry stood in front of us after quite a climb. Inside, a sharp V shaped junction offered two choices of way, but no signage. We went down one, realized that was the wrong path, came back and ventured in the second.

The Fort has now been converted into a heritage hotel. Let us imagine it to be a big beautiful house, and not a fort. With due respects to anyone concerned, I am sorry to say that the flavor of a fort was totally gone. The renovation work seemed to be a confused mix of architectural styles as well as a mere plastering and painting kind of a job. You think of it as a bungalow and you will like the play of levels, use of various elements, planters, lights, etc. Both of us being architects, the feeling of disappointment perhaps had an additional multiplier.

Nalagarh thus turned out to be an industrial town which had the potential but lacked the interest in tourism.. the local people, taxi drivers inclusive, were hardly aware of what was there to see in there, and also the places one could go to. It is a place to drive to, so that you have a car (or any personalized motorized mode) to check out the surroundings as well. The natural landscape is beautiful and would have been great for long quiet walks only if there weren’t trucks and buses brushing past you as there is no footpath. There is no proper restaurant, just dhabas.. no markets other than those for daily needs, vegetables, medicines and likewise.

Next morning, we went to Chandigarh. As architects, this is a city we have studied about since our college days, its buildings, its spatial pattern, perpendicular system of roads, roundabouts… and somehow, neither of us have been there. This opportunity we grabbed, and checked out most of the city, the capitol complex designed by one of the greatest architects, Le Corbusier and the Rock Garden, a major tourist attraction.

I guess criticism was in our minds from the beginning. After Delhi, the luxurious width of roads and literally huge radii of roundabouts seemed to be such a waste. Even Le Corbusier’s designs, which we had attempted to copy as students, seemed as plastic, huge waste of concrete, little respect for land utilization. Rock Garden, spread over 12 acres, seemed to be another plastic effort. But slowly, we realized that the creator was a road inspector, who had an innovative idea to compile the industrial waste into a garden, and the sheer effort is worthy of appreciation. The element of surprise is also amazing. There are places to relax, and no restrictions on how long you spend inside. A gallery of aquariums, camel rides and a court with swings are some innovative inclusions.

We returned home from Chandigarh on Saturday night itself, recharged our batteries on Sunday to be able to join work from Monday with rejuvinated enthusiasm.

Sick of Change

I am sick of change. I detest the idea of change, getting used to the change, and it happens again. I have started hating that.Maybe I am growing old now..

I do not want a change of home. So much so, I do not feel like going back to my hometown.

I do not need a job change anymore. No problem with poor increments or promotions. No interest in new opportunities. I am sure my present job has a lot to offer... much more than I have acquired.

Please leave my cell phone, life insurance policies, credit cards, e-mail ids, handbags, taste of cosmetics, etc unchanged. I am happy with what I have.

Even if Appollo, the Greek God, comes into my life, I would request to be left alone. I cannot start life afresh anymore.

It is a weird feeling... My approach is becoming lazy, "Let things be..."

Independence Day

August 14,2010
I needed to post few envelopes. In today’s world of e-mail and telephones, the post office has ceased to exist in our lives. When confronted with a situation wherein one needs to visit one, you have to ransack your memory to recall where you had last seen the nearest post office.

Anyways, there I was, in the local shopping complex near my home, scanning buildings – I knew there was a post office somewhere.. My line of sight was directed upwards, and the onus was on the people around to avoid banging into me.

My search was interrupted by a gush of wind caused by someone brushing past me at cyclonic speed. I caught a glimpse of the guy: it was one of my closest friends, walking in a world of his own. He turned as I involuntarily gasped out his name, smiled and joined me.

“Happy Independence Day in advance”, he wished.

I was a bit taken aback, didn’t wish him back. Instead, I asked him, “Are you wearing orange because of that?”, pointing to the saffron garment he had on him.

”No no”, he negated me, going on to explain that it was a mere coincidence.

Rewind two years back.

I was having lunch with a senior of mine from school. He mentioned how his wife went every year to a popular market place to buy tricoloured bangles every year on 15th August… With extreme difficulty, I could manage to refrain from the temptation to ask why a set cannot be re-worn every year… or what would one do with more than one set of exactly similar bangles..

Somehow, I cannot relate to greeting each other for a happy independence day… what are you exactly wishing for? A good day? It sounds like wishing someone a great year ahead on New Year’s Eve.

15th August, is a national holiday. And I was feeling bad to have not got a holiday as it was a Sunday this year. A series of greetings had started flowing in right from early morning. I answered each, and asked them the significance of this day to their individual selves, and forwarded the query to anyone I could think of.

“Power cut whole of last night. Care a damn for independence day” was the first reply.

“I am travelling for work,” was the second, complete with the query,”Any better way to celebrate Independence day?”

“Independence, in a corrupt nation?” jeered the third.

“Independence Day to me is remembering thousands of people with great sense of pride in their achievements. They laid down their very lives so that we could have independence of making our choices in life… such sacrifices are a source of inspiration”: Yes, this is something I would relate to.

“Watch out for my blog on this topic” – are you on an advertisement spree? I mean, you have all rights to write, but why create hype?

“Responsibility”: - One word. Crisp and clear.

“Let us try within our might to eradicate poverty and spread education in our country. Not just raise the flag and sing the National Anthem”: Yes, I am willing to go beyond, if required.

“Hope the day will come one day when there will be no killing, no unemployment, no illiteracy.. poverty could be fully eradicated and smile can be given to every Indian”…

"Mixed reactions...this day means a lot, but I am also said" and someone avoided the question totally,"Too much to share in a sms"..

How was this Sunday different? A day you thank your lucky stars that you were born in an independent nation... where people, especially women, can do whatever they want, have freedom of speech... thank those on the border who fight for us...

Down, but not out

What's in your bag? : Tag

Tagged Again... and tagged by Ms. Sushmita Sarkar (Shooting Star)...

She's done hers amazingly well.. with snaps of almost everything.. and here comes mine! A line or two to establish their usability(???). It was fun pulling out each item and clicking them... a sudden realization of what a lot I am carrying around...

My bag itself:

A huge, elongated box type concoction in pure leather, by Hi Design. Gifted to me during my marriage, I have used it extensively. The poor thing has endured all the "rough use". And when I am using it, I would not change it for occassions... I just love it.

My identity:
We dont need it for access in our office, so this lies there in my bag.
I wear it for out of office meetings.

My purse:

Bought from Palika Bazaar in 2007, a market for everything at most unreliable prices. Its front pouch is excellent, as it holds my cards and visiting cards.
Hair clips:
I carry them as a backup... Suppose I have left my hair open someday, and feel like tying the tresses later in the day... all I have to do is dig either of them out...
Combs:

I generally carry both of them. The white one is rarely used, its just there as a backup, just in case I forget to insert the other one after cleaning it. I have done this often after weekends, after the weekly cleaning. The white one is cleaned when it gathers dirt.

Compact:
Used rarely, when my skin starts looking oily. Carried around mainly for the mirror inside.
This little box has been with me since 2006.

Lip Cream: Boroline

My awfully dry lips have a tendency to chap even in summer. This cream has been handy in moisturising and minor injuries since our childhood. My Granny's favourite, even till date.

Handkerchief :
Very handy for hand-drying, adjusting facial makeup, camaflouging emotions...

My lipsticks:

I may carry three, but I use only one [the central one].... That too, when I feel like.

My perfumes:

Gifted items, very useful!!!

The actual contributors to the weight of my bag.

My eye liner:
This is perhaps the oldest and misused item on my person. This dates back to my childhood, when Lakme first launched this eye-liner. I cannot quote a date. This was the only bottle I have ever possessed in my entire life! I have only used it for the purpose of drawing a dot between my eyebrows (bindi)... I have never used it for eye-lining!
Box of Visiting Cards:

I carry quite a few cards in this spare box. Comes in real handy in meetings and workshops, when you need a number of cards at a time.

Measuring tape:

Useful when shopping for clothes. When in doubt whether a particular garment would fit you or not, and the shop keeper is damn sure it would, or the trial rooms are not free, you know how to check...

Safety pins:

Saves lot of embarassing situations!
Good for lending to someone too.

Phone and accessories:
The charger and the headphone.

And of course, the phone! [Phone camera has been used for these snaps, so no image of phone]
Dressing accessories:

Another one of the backup stuff, gets used when I drape a saree.

And mind you, this is perhaps a few items that are in my bag... you would find pens and pencils, some papers and a small notebook, some medical supplies, a needle and thread... the list is endless.

Missed Out!

I have not been counted in the Census of India that is under preparation.

I was out of station on leave, and the representatives could not get hold of any one of us at home.

I am sure we would not be accounted for when they go for headcounts in Calcutta, because we have been away for so long now.

So, when they publish a figure, please add 3 more persons to it.

New responsibility

I have chopped off my fangs.

This means I have trimmed my nails. But is that something to write about?

Well, I had to.. and cannot resist the temptation to publicize my excitement of having bought a new cell phone. Its being a totally touch screen model is no longer a unique feature in today’s world, completely revolutionized by technology. But for me, the upgradation has been tremendous. I had a sturdy set, perfect for rough use. Suddenly, the onus is on me to handle a delicate model, that too, for the kind of use that I have.

For you, birdie

"Thousands of birds are dying", informed a mail in my inbox, "because of the heat wave"... and also asked us to leave some water in our balconies for the birds to stop by.

The ambient temperature during the day is really that harsh. Ten minutes of exposure to the sun can drain all energy out of healthy individuals.

We complied to the appeal of the mail, and placed a fairly large vessel full of water in a secluded corner of our terrace. It was a Saturday, and I was home. I even put ice cubes in the afternoon so that the water remains cool for a longer time.

The first day, strangely, not a single bird ventured.

"These creatures must be blind", I almost thought when I saw a wasp splashing in the water. I wondered if it could communicate to the birds... from the next day, the number of visitors in our bird-bath has shot up significantly.

Every morning, I pour out the water to the plants in my so called garden [so as not to waste the water], and fill the vessel with clean water. Throughout the day, the birds chirp, tweet and make merry in their exclusive corner on my terrace.

Earth hour: almost

A few days back, media all round us urged us to participate in the Earth hour: switch off all electrical appliances for one hour one particular evening, as a gesture against global warming.

We are a cricket loving family. On the designated day, as it would happen, live telecast of a very interesting match was on television... such is our addiction to cricket, that we decided to participate in the mission 95%: put off everything, except the television. Lights off, a cool breeze blowing, watching cricket on a 21 inch screen, sipping some refreshingly cool drinks turned out to be a heavenly experience.

The tournament is still on, and the schedule is such that there is at least a match being telecast every day. We have opted to switch off the lights and enjoy the evenings watching the matches, thus contributing to the environmental cause as well.

Dormant beauty

Six months back, my mother gave me few seeds to plant. Very typical of me, I forgot all about them. But I did plant them, after I accidentally chanced upon them amidst my luggage. I borrowed a pot from my landlady and would water the seeds diligently in the hope that some life would be left within. About a week down, two weak saplings germinated... one look at them I knew they were some other species, perhaps weeds. But I didnt stop watering them nevertheless.

This morning, I was greeted with a burst of beautiful flowers... spring is in!

When colours talk

Of Missed Calls

Well, I had been attending too many meetings of late. I finish one, go for another, get back and am required somewhere else... there has been too much scurrying around. I put my mobile phone on the silent mode with the vibrator on, so that I would know when anyone called or sent a message. Back home too, I wouldn't bother to change the settings. But the problem lies elsewhere. My phone and myself aren't constant companions on off days.

Sunday evening I just chanced upon the phone beneath a pillow. I had forgotten totally about it, and I had no clue to how it got there. I had as many as 17 missed calls.

I am sorry, my buddies,who called me that day. I hope I have got back to all of you. This is a sincere message of apology to you all. I do appreciate your attachment with me.

To all those who keep their phones silent often, please keep your eyes on the instrument...

Loneliness

I hate being alone.

I have friends who live alone by choice. Some are compelled to. My landlady has chosen to be alone even at 75+.

Inspiration is the last thing that I can draw from them. I hate being alone. Perhaps I am too used to family life. Even one hour of solitude seems to kill me. I hate returning to an empty home after work. I hate unlocking rooms to find the mess I had left behind. I hate lazing alone. I look up to the work that has to be done, but cannot move a limb. I do not feel like cooking for myself either. Sleep deserts my eyes, and so does my love for reading. My zombie mind does not find peace in talking on phone either.

What to do?

2009

It had been an uneventful year, I wondered to myself, as the clock struck twelve on the night of 31st December. But, time seemed to have flied. When did the year begin, and where did it go?

I remember the sleepy exchange of new year greetings with a long lost friend early morning in January. My mother in law's determination to reach Delhi from Calcutta when her train had got cancelled. The sudden all-vegeterian menu on Rajdhani express, because of bird flu. What happened to those hens, I wonder. Things came back to square one after the initial scare. Similar was the fate of the panic created by swine flu. People would come outdoors with noses and mouths covered initially and then I guess, they just got bored of it. Some hospitals and medical set-ups had made some money, yes.

Our completely unplanned getaway to the hills was a big rejuvinator. So was our trip to Calcutta during Durga Pujas. Dad's angioplasty. Mom's diabetes and never-cured cold. My helplessness of being miles away.

Completion of my brother's PhD. Great moments for us who share and bask in his glory, when he joined MIT for his post-doc.

Newly made friends, old friends... Some great movies, nice songs... some pathetic ones as well..

Remember the Tata Nano massacre in West Bengal? I would, because its my state. And the whimsical mind behind all this became the rail minister... and is actually doing reasonably well. Barrack Obama got a Nobel Prize... the first black American president, and now a nobel laureate too. Wow, that brings to my mind Abhinav Bindra's bright face, holding up his Gold medal. A completely unknown face suddenly became a youth icon.

We have all faced effects of recession in varying degrees, rising prices, changing governments... but we have come out of the storm with our heads held high. Maybe we are struggling still, but I am sure, we shall all emerge winners.

There had been sudden shaky moments, moments of loss and pain. You have got to tell yourself, be convinced of it, that whatever has happened is actually for the best.

I have carried fond memories across that retrospective minute... have you?

6 Hours and 40 minutes

Six hours of journey time.

40 minutes of looking around.

Lots of money spent.

Obviously, doesnt make any sense! But thats what we did this Saturday.

After a super-busy phase, it was a whimsical choice to relax in Yamuna Bio-Diversity Park. From where did it crop up in our minds, I have no clue. And no clue as to how to reach the spot. There were three of us, so we chose to avail of public transport... just for the sake of it. Do not form the impression that Delhi's public transport system is very exciting... well, it is, but in the wrong sense.

Friday evening, I just spotted the place on Google Maps... road links were not clear enough, but what we could judge was that if we could reach Jahangirpuri Metro Station in North Delhi, we would be reasonably close. And so next morning, three of us jumped in a bus and went to Central Secretariat, the nearest Metro Station, which is a cool 15 km away. Even on a Saturday morning, congestion was immense, and the journey cost us about 1 hr and 15 minutes. And our destination was at the other end of the Metro route. By the time we emerged out of the mostly underground track, we were already exasperated from travelling. And difficulty had just begun.

No one who we chose to ask had even heard about Yamuna Bio Diversity Park. We enquired for spots around as we had seen on the map, and got confused more and more. One seemed to be in a direction diametrically opposite from the other. Finally, we chose a direction which appeared feasible to all of us. We boarded a cycle rickshaw and reached a bus stop on the Karnal Byepass. The backdrop of a sanitary landfill site with its strong smell appeared to excite the landscape architect in my husband and the urban designer in our friend, as they started taking photographs enthusiastically. I took the initiative and requested an inter-state bus to drop us a few kilometres ahead to our next intermediate destination. We had to walk 500 m down to get into a crowded RTV, another point-to-point public transport service. The vertical height of the vehicle was so small that I could barely stand upright, just imagine the condition of the other two with me... both of whom are much taller than me.

Sant Nagar extension was the spot where we chose to have a bite, as it was already three in the afternoon. We started with the approach of a quick refill, but so hungry and thirsty we were, that we hogged like pigs. Let us at least do one thing properly, seemed to be our approach.

Post lunch, we checked out the park on the internet once again. We made further inquiries from the local people, policemen on duty and finally, an auto driver seemed to know what we were talking about. Infact, he took us fairly close. Just a few more directions obtained from the street hawkers, patrolling policemen, local people relaxing in the winter sun and we were finally there... at the gates of Yamuna Bio Diversity Park. The auto driver was, however, very confused. "What is so interesting in a jungle?", he asked, when we told him where we had come from.

The guard on duty came up to us. It was evident from the bewildered look on his face that he wasn't used to get visitors. And before we could actually react, he said what we were dreading: the park wasn't open to general public. Oops!

Blessed with sudden visitors, the guard took pity on us. He mumbled something about permission being available for students... we jumped on those words almost, as my husband drew out his student ID promptly. We called the Scientist in Charge, on a number provided by the guard and obtained access. It was five in the evening. Time in hand was short. A worker took us around a small portion of the 157 acre park as a short overview. He showed us an artificial lake, which did not appear man made at all. Migratory birds were everywhere... on the trees of the central island, on the bordering plantation and in the water. A band flew in, looking stunning on the background of the evening sky. Our guide took us next to the small museum wherein we saw how barren the land had been, and documentation of the wide variety of flora and fauna one could see now. Snake skins, scorpions and dangerous looking insects were on display too.

Getting back proved comparatively easier. We got a rickshaw to the main ring road wherein we got into a bus to take us to Kashmere Gate Bus terminal. We seated ourselves in a bus that would take us straight to home. So tired were we that we did not seem to mind the long journey at all. Instead we caught small naps.

One year through

One year past a fateful day when I was amidst a bomb blast, I am alive and kicking. Phew!

A Misty Trip

A long weekend was gleaming at us from the calendar… we were itching for a break. Things started falling in place all of a sudden. My salary was credited on 11th, I booked tickets on the 12th and 13th we were off, late at night, after a complete working day. We witnessed rush due to the long weekend, but perhaps it was a bit toned down due to the panic created by swine flu epidemic.
Early morning, I woke up to see some beautiful buildings of Chandigarh and Mohali. We got dropped off at Kangra. Debating among ourselves about the next course of action, we evaluated our options. Our eyes were on the metre gauge train journey to Palampur, but we were unsure about the train timings. Again, although the railway station was only 4 km away, the auto drivers were not quite willing to go. Dharamsala was definitely closer, so we decided to have a quick lunch, explore Kangra and move on to Dharamsala. Kangra temple would be a devotee’s delight with its bells and a campus strewn with deities. Kangra Fort, built by the Katoch kings, was awesome. With very few tourists, it was a delight to go around the fort, listening to the Audio Guide [this is the latest innovation] at our leisure, clicking pictures at a freedom allowed by digicams. Back to the bus station, we just hopped in a bus to Dharamsala, about 40 km away. Note that we hadn’t bathed till then. So a shower each we took at the hotel and went out for a walk. Discovered that the vegetarian items tasted better than their non vegetarian counterparts. Next morning, we woke in a cool mist, to see clouds resting lazily on the range in front. We were informed that there was nothing to do in the small town from a tourists’ point of view, and all attractions were in Mcleodganj, 10 km away. The holy Dalai Lama hails from there. I was surprised to see a small monastery claiming to have been the home to the Nobel Laureate. Daal Lake was under renovation, and our next mission was the Bhagsunag Waterfalls. The 3 km long walk was perhaps the best decision we had taken, because the only driveable roadway was hopelessly clogged up with two-way traffic. We meandered through cars, autos, two wheelers, cycles and trekked our way over rocks and steps in the second half of the route to reach the waterfalls, and wade our feet in the water. There were people in the plunge pool, although the water was extremely cold and had force latent in it. The way down would have been adventurous enough, but enough is not a word in the dictionary of either my husband or brother in law. So down the rocks we chose to climb down, through the waterfall. It was exciting, but definitely scary. I slipped a couple of times, hurt my knee, wetted my shoes… but enjoyed it all the same. It had started to rain, but we returned victorious and walked upto a church on the way back. The rain was picking up, drenching us. We had come far from the traffic jam, and it seemed the buses had evaporated completely. Eventually, however, a bus arrived and dropped us back to Dharamsala, amidst heavy rain. We had a quick lunch, settled our hotel dues and started for Palampur. The journey was picturesque, amidst clouds. Palampur turned out to be a small hill town, a photographer’s delight, a pedestrian’s dream, and devoid of the tourist attraction as we had feared. There aren’t many hotels, and we got decent rooms, too. We walked up to the market street, munched on the way, made enquiries typical to tourists and sunk into deep slumber after a sumptuous lunch. Next morning, we woke up early and went walking downhill and downhill and downhill and downhill and downhill and downhill. The weather was cool; everything was so serene that we didn’t realize the distance we covered. We crossed a tea factory on the way. On the way back, we were met by groups of monkeys who didn’t pay us any heed at all. After breakfast, we caught a local bus to take us to Baijnath temple, about 16 km from Palampur. The temple was beautiful, more so because of the rivulet flowing far below. There were about 200 steps and our enthusiasm was such that we climbed down the entire set to reach the water. The climb up was tough, and we were panting when we re-entered the temple complex. It was built in Orissan architectural style. We returned hurriedly to the town to visit Neugelkhad, a site where the cliff is plumb vertical and a rivulet flows far below. We were horrified to find that the edges were not rock solid, and would give in under our weights if we weren’t careful. And if you slip, you would fall straight on the rocks along the edge. Nothing can obstruct your fall midway. The mountains on the otherside weren’t that steep, however and we could see lush green stretches.
Time in hand was running out fast, so we wrapped up hurriedly. We shot back to the hotel, had a heavy lunch and started on our journey back to Delhi. The bus took us downhill along the path we had walked in the morning and further. It was dark and raining, but I could not sleep. The roads were wet, and muddy, and the bus was skidding. Everytime the headlights of the bus swept over the steep edge, my heart would jump. The road was narrow and the bus did seem to go too much towards the edge to allow traffic from the opposite side. Sometimes, amidst vegetation, my eyes caught an occasional built structure. I could sleep only after we were safely off the hills. More drama came our way when our bus was stopped due to agitation at Una, a town at the foothills. We were lucky that the trouble got sorted out within two hours. Further ahead, another half an hour was lost in lending the spare tyre [stepny] to a bus stuck up due to a puncture. I woke up on the borders of Delhi. As if death needed to sign the conclusion, I witnessed recovery activities at a spot where an accident had happened between a car and a milk van, killing three people right there.

Singh is King

A mid-day wedding: a Sardar's.

Venue: A banquet hall located almost at the other end of the city.

Date: A bright, sunny Sunday.

I chose to go with the office crowd, because the groom is a colleague unknown to my family. And a pack of girls pooling in is actually fun, giggling and gossipping. The distance did not seem to be a problem at all. Inside the venue, the number of guests tends to startle you, but we could locate a familiar face at the far end of the hall. He was looking quite nice, dressed in white and a red turban.. our young Sardar was looking like a prince, holding a sword. "Its real", he told me later.

Within minutes of our arrival, the fellow was carted off by the relatives to the Gurudwara for the "actual" wedding, leaving us at the mercy of the DJ. I stayed away from the dance floor a bit, sipping a refreshing glass of juice, watching the people around. There were people from all age groups. Most dont bother to dress up much... sober, simple, presentable but they could be just anywhere. I owe apologies to the men for not noticing them much. All Sardar men appear alike in a crowd, with their turbans, tall(ish) structures and facial hair. Its only three breeds: Elderly, Middle Aged and Young Sardars. And the women, just in case they choose to dress up, they surely know how to go overboard! And its mostly Salwar-kameez.... they would look at me questioningly, "Saree?" and answer themselves, "Of course, you are not a Sardarni".

But its the DJ who stole the show. He had perhaps taken it upon himself to underline the fact that it was a Sardar wedding. One song would be a Bollywood dance number, followed by a couple of completely unheard of Punjabi songs and then would come, "Singh is King", a song extremely popular among Sardars just because of these three words. And even the children enjoy it... their heads would start nodding everytime the speakers announce "Singh is King"...

Noticed!

Something went wrong this morning.. I was off schedule by three minutes. The morning chores before going to office form a system, and a little alteration can create a mess. I almost missed my bus. I got my husband to drive me down, chasing the bus.. we overtook it, stopped it and got in. It was full. But I got beaming smiles from 90% of those on board: "Oh, there you are!" were the unsaid words.

I never realized people notice me so much. I am reasonably regular on the bus, miss it every few days... and even if I do catch it, I sink into those low but tall seats...reading, or even sleeping!!! I travel almost terminus to terminus, but I am not very noticeable, I thought. I dont fight, dont talk in a loud voice, dont gossip... I am in my own world in that one hour journey, often lost in my day dreams. But other people do notice me. Feels good.

Life Guard

The signal is red. A stream of pedestrians are crossing the road. I try hard to join in, making use of my long legs. I was perhaps the last one in the group. Three fourth down the road, the signal turns green. The ignitions were on, the accelerators are pressed. I, and a few others, were trying to negotiate through. It was then it happened. He jumped. From where, I have no clue. It seemed as if Spiderman had accidentally lost his grip. And he was right in front of a Blueline bus, the kind which is famous for being killer. Call it reflex if you will. Because, honestly, there was no time to appraise the situation and take action. I just realized I was holding his shirt around the belt line. Luckily the man was of thin build, so I could hold him back. Question in my eyes, I helped him reach the other side. My outburst was curbed by a smile. No words, excuses, explanations. He just walked away.