The Broke Millennial's Guide to Ooty

I could not have been more excited as I alighted the bus into the chilly December morning, to a lofty little town, standing a breathtaking 7350 feet above sea level. This is the highest the coastal town-bred me has planted my feet in the dead of winter. My mind was flying a few feet higher at this feat of mine. I hugged my flimsy white shawl to myself, playing tug-of-war with the cold breeze, which was keen to have it.

Here’s Tip 1: Do not take an auto rickshaw with your travel bags and obviously touristy face. Unless it’s a trunk filled with currency notes and you’re a millionaire. Okay, world, laugh all you want, while us broke (and lugubrious) millennials take respite in our imagination, which we have truckloads of. Yours truly, unfailingly gullible and stupid, had to learn this the hard way. Buses in Ooty ply through the length, breadth and steep heights of the town. Also, they are so light on your wallets, you’ll be crying tears of gratitude.

The upside (and downside) of bus travel is all the fun downhill prancing you get to do with the lush greenery taking your breath away and if you’re unfortunate, that tedious uphill climb, that also takes your breath away.

So, while you are on these walks, and craving something, anything to keep you alive, there are these strategically located “Iyengar Bakery”s serving the most heavenly ginger tea and lemon tea. Or if you happen to be at, as I like to call them, the “Manga hotspots”, you could treat yourself to raw mangoes dipped in chili powder and salt ~salivates~

Map showing major snack zones

Tip 2: Staying at Charring Cross at the heart of the town seems like a wise choice. I shall not contradict you here. But wouldn’t you like to wake up to the chugging of the toy train among terraces of tea plantations and plump sheep grazing outside your doors? This is something you should not miss out on in Ooty and something you are definitely not going to experience in the bustling traffic at Charring Cross. Split your stay to get the best of both worlds. Lovedale is a great place to soak yourself in pure Ooty-ness.

View from Zostel Ooty

Tent at Zostel Ooty

Staying in a tent on the ridges of the Nilgiris in December probably sounds like the most ludicrous idea EVER (if you’re not used to single-digit temperatures like me). Trust me, it’s not. It’s the best experience you would have. Ooty is not too cold during the day, and the tent is just right to let in the daytime warmth. With a couple of blankets, you will be alright at night.

Tip 3: While we’re on the topic of soaking in the Ooty-ness, be sure to check into the tea factory and the chocolate factory. Though every shop, including pharmacies, show off stacks of homemade chocolate, the best are at the source. And it’s not every other day that you get to drink free samples of expensive white tea (although it tastes no different from warm water) and chocolate tea and cardamom tea (yum!).

PLACE TO BEE

Food suggestions: PLACE TO BEE!! Without question, this is one place you HAVE TO visit. Three reasons:
1. Great food (especially the cream of mushroom soup and the hot chocolate) 
2.The indigenous products store. From honey to shampoo to note books to clothes, all locally produced by the Nilgiri tribes. Such a great initiative.
3. It is a bee museum! (Don’t worry, bees are not all over the place) 

This place is going to startle your poor little wallet a little, but it is worth every rupee.

On the slightly pricey places list is the Sidewalk Café. Great salads and it is vegetarian-friendly (yay!)

If you want a quick simple meal, nip into Adyar Ananda Bhavan or Quality restaurant. The sambar and rasam at Quality are blissful.

Tip 4: You could be the clichéd tourist running to all of the famous “Viewing Points” of Ooty and clicking pictures that have other clichéd tourists jostling around in the background, or you could be that enlightened tourist who knows where to go to get the best views. How, you ask? I am going to tell you.

The right spots

     1. As you enter the Botanical Gardens, don’t follow the herd that is ambling to the left of the park. Take the road not taken – the one on the right. And keep going up and up. Go all the way up to the Toda mund on top. Thank me later ~winks~

    2.Now you’re wondering what a Toda mund is. The Todas are the earliest inhabitants of Ooty and they call their hamlet “mund”. There are numerous munds peppered around Ooty. One of the most beautiful ones is the one at Glenmorgan, which is around 10 km from Pykara. Do take the residents’ permission before clicking pictures of their houses or themselves.

    3.Walk back to Ooty from the Tea Factory. It is an easy downhill stroll with plenty of potential photo spots.

This is the part where I tell you to pull on your sweaters, throw on your backpacks and set off to Ooty. Well, what are you waiting for?

Oh, and, don’t forget your monkey caps!

Walking downhill from Tea Factory

Road near Ooty Racecourse

Morning at the Marina

University of Madras

Public Water Supply Department

Homing

It has been almost three years since I resigned myself to being a resident of this largely urban town called Manipal. I have lived in Chennai all my life and I make it no secret, Chennai is my greatest love, as a place, a home, a connection. Every inch of asphalt I’ve trudged upon and every piece of sky I’ve wandered under can tell you of my incessant banter on the occasion of this subject being raised. The feeling that comes to me from being on Chennai’s streets is, I’m not exaggerating, quite unparalleled. And I’m sure many would agree with me on this about your own hometowns.

So, whenever the question of Manipal being a second home arose, my unwavering heart always had the same answer. Do not get me wrong there! I am not incapable of accepting a second place as home. I have housed great longing and fascination for numerous places, which I one day hope to make my home. That fascination, however, evaded me in Manipal. Until today.

The rather overly normal events of today that brought this change began with a book. As I read the last page of the book and shut it with my sigh of satisfied completion, I sat in my room, clueless about my next course of action. Right then, my window presented to me an image extremely inviting and pleasant, like none I had witnessed lately. The world had turned yellow. The sky, the footpath, the trees, the very air, everything was yellow, like a playful child had overturned an enormous paint bucket, setting off a beautiful accident.

I pulled on my pants and bounded down the stairs and out into the yellow fabric, impatient to be part of it. Before I proceed with the rest of the evening, I should mention that I have been on many a solitary walk in Manipal, but I do not recall one for the sheer joy of it. As I walked into the captivating evening, I was beginning to have a conversation of firsts. Walking the streets, I truly went down memory lane, thinking about my initial days and thoughts of Manipal. The tiny toy houses that once made me smile out of amazement now brought me an old-friend smile. The quiet corners, the bustling junctions, the beauty that has become an everyday thing, does not fascinate me anymore like a mysterious person I am eager to know. They are like family now, just their presence is reassuring.

As I walked around having these conversations in my head, I realised how comfortable I had grown in its skin. It here being, of course, Manipal. I could be in every one of its streets, nooks and crannies, and I wouldn’t feel a shred of “alien”. I will always be an old resident, going about the place, unafraid of being lost and going as far as to forsake any conscious attention to my surroundings, letting my seasoned legs do the guiding. If you have stayed in this charming little town on the west coast for long enough, you get the privilege of such lethargy.

Manipal is not a place I want to make my home in the future. It is already that for my four years here. But it is a place I would go to if I needed to get away from the everydayness of life for some familiar comfort and much-needed lethargy. It would always be that old friend waiting with a beer (lemonade? Iced lime? ) in hand.

And the next time you’re here and see a bespectacled girl looking oddly preoccupied with the sky or smiling at a clump of grass, don’t be creeped out, welcome to Manipal! 

TRANSIENT MOMENTS

Like a modern day Rip Van Winkle, I walk back after years of slumber into my cobweb-filled blog. Luckily for me, everything is still the same. It's time to dust the ceilings and get the floors back to their old sparkling splendour.

It's exam time (read epiphany time). It was 8:15 am. I was walking back up the steps to my hostel room after a hurried breakfast when something outside the window stopped me and had me paralysed for one awestruck second. A full moon glinting faintly and unassumingly in the morning light below a mass of dark clouds. And behind the clouds, a punch of bright yellow that was the sun. Before I could break from my reverie and run to get my camera (as my greedy self refused to let the moment go unrecorded), it all disappeared. The mass of clouds descended over the moon, concealing it for the day and the Sun emerged dazzlingly. I waited till I became temporarily blind and then staggered back to my room. And after a long long long time, my grey matter decided to put my pen to work, much to my excitement! A poem after a million years!

Those moments
Coy and quiet
Hiding behind curtains
All but compliant.

Mischievous smiles 
And stifled laughter
A knowing that their discovery
Insists ardent chasing after.

They peep, not strike.
Unfolding daintily
Like the sun from a September sky
Coltishly and elegantly.

Unabashedly 
They rob your senses
Leaving you enraptured
Shattering your defences.

They grow more surreal
As you gape intoxicated.
And weave a memory
One unanticipated.

They depart
Just as fast.
An ephemeral episode
Dissolving into an ethereal past.

But its presence,
That you beheld astounded,
Fastens itself firmly
Never to be altered.

And you will recollect
With a drunken bafflement
The fantastic enchantment
Of those moments! 

REUNION

This piece will always be close to my heart as it couldn't have come to me at a better time, or rather, a worse time. I haven't written anything in a long time and it was beginning to worry me. Here are all my worries happily erased.

I uncage you
As guilt bathes me down.
By dirt and neglect
Your body is now adorned.

Delicately I feed you.
A sinner I have been
To have kept you jailed.
Not to be felt, not to be seen.

I put you to canvas.
You stutter,
I cringe.
I coax you gently
And the magic begins.

Realization hits me.
A fool I have been
For the exile was mine
And the rest, now I gleam.

You are my crutch,
I a cripple.
You're a prized possession,
My glorious pinnacle.

You are my parachute
A beautiful thing.
My most loyal companion
For as long as I live.

 

The First Homecoming

 

After my failed attempts at studying for my imminent exams, I’ve concluded that the apparent abatement of guilt in daydreaming with a book on my lap as compared to daydreaming without one, is just that : apparent. So, I’ve given up trying to cheat my conscience. Instead I’m completely disregarding it. As my conscience glares at me, teeth grinding, I’m going to write about the most exciting event that has happened to me in the past three months.

It has been more than three months since I left home for college. Save for the first weekend that I mentioned in my previous post, I barely felt any homesickness in the following days. But how much I actually missed home dawned on me when the time came to go back. I was going back at a time of festive cheer and rejoicing. Diwali. Every Diwali has been a special one and I remember each for the maniacal joy that each has brought but this was a very different one, a Diwali of many firsts.

I’ve always been awed by the nomadic lifestyle with so many places, people, languages and cultures to get to know. But I’ve never experienced it myself. To me, home has always been the same place, the same house, the same neighbours, the same potholed roads, the same auto drivers, the same traffic signals and the same routes. All my friends, memories, encounters, experiences and events are tied to one place. So, I had never looked back at how much the place has given me in making me the person I am until recently.

The blissful anticipation of embracing the familiar sights and sounds of home heightening with each station the train passed, taking me closer and closer to home, and finally seeing family through the grills of the train windows are feelings of intense and ineffable ecstasy.

Now, home to me doesn’t just mean the house where I live. It’s the people, the familiarity, the sense of belonging. The same place wouldn’t be a welcome abode if the people in my life didn’t live there anymore. Now I understand why there is a craving in people to know their history. It tells you who you are and it gives you ground to stand on in the world, proud and unshakeable. It makes you possessive of your land and devoted to it. It gives you something solid to hold on to in an ever-changing world.

There will be many more homecomings in the future, but this will always be the dearest to me, the picture it first conjures in my mind being the smiles on those people’s faces that I had only seen in my mind for the last three months.

More Snaps!

A morning stroll with a fellow photography enthusiast in a place like the west coast is incomparable to anything else. So here are a few more clicks, the products of that particular stroll.

And I saved my most favourite for the last!

 

Through glass pieces

The west coast is sheer beauty! Coconut trees, ponds, the sea, mountains, every appealing object of nature is here. And there occur those moments during the day that the beauty is so capturing that you simply can't pass without in turn capturing it... through glass pieces. In my case, my mobile phone camera.

Today I saw an ad for a resort that read "Views that say Dubai, Singapore. But the prices don't"
It's a shame that the beauty here has to be compared to that of other places, which are beautiful too, to attract tourists. Dude, if I wanted a view that says Dubai, I would go to Dubai! ~rolls eyes~ Where's our pride? I'd seriously like to give these advertising guys a few lessons.

Coming back to topic, here are a few moments of beauty I've captured.
Warning : Amateur here. Keep expectations really low.. I'm talking below ground level.

 

Vicious arts and basic lessons

Long breaks from blogging are becoming something of a routine now, one that I don't really pride myself on. It's a clear and rather shameful representation of my inability to juggle time and passions deftly. Though I can hide behind the excuse of a new lifestyle, the idle hours will be a nagging reminder of my indolence.

It's been a month to the day since I began college. So many emotions have passed through me, quite a large number actually, in this time frame. Thanks to my fear of my formidable conscience, I jotted down a significant portion of them to remind me, for I seem to have forgotten that those emotions took residence in me in those first few days of newness; such is the degree to which they have changed. A single month seems to have imparted wisdom that maybe slumbered in the deep recesses of my mind, not finding the need to be disturbed just yet.

My feelings as of 3rd August, 2013 :

Why. The inquisitive, puzzling, formidable and at times scary three-letter word that so unyieldingly latches onto the mind like a leech that has found an unsuspecting body of flesh and blood. A delight to the questioner during the inevitable awkward silences of conversation, the word is an unwelcome guest when you find yourself on both sides of the conversation and realize you're talking to yourself.

I've successfully braved a week in college. It feels like it has been months since I came here. Regular phone calls to home, a long one with best friend, late night with roommates, staying behind in class to finish work, a million hello's, hi's and bye's have already happened.

I look around and see groups already forming. Pairs or gangs of  people almost constantly together in less than a week of acquaintance. Character sketches are being created thanks to the judgemental part of our mind (or is it just mine?)

Having always strutted around school with my own clique and always having fit in with any group of people I was in the company of, finding myself sitting alone in my room on a Saturday evening, I must confess is giving me my first bout of homesickness. I don't play basketball so I can't hang out at the court. The library timings are depressingly less. The few people I've gotten to know till now are tucked in in their rooms in the cozy comfort of sleep. Restrictions all around. Are these ones I'm creating or ones that are situational? And here is where the dreaded three-letter word comes in : Why am I not able to make the kind of friends I did in school? Why does it seem like suddenly the avenues of friendship have very tight security at their rather narrow gates? Maybe it is so because in school we are at a very impressionable age and making friends for life is no trigonometry test. We're still in the process of forming our identities, developing our interests and discovering new ones. But we come out of school with friends, interests, knowledge and heightened self-consciousness.

~I had paused writing and continued the next day. Read on for a drastic change~

It is quite surprising how much my outlook on college friendship has changed in a day. The best way to explain would be by starting here : my dependency on technology. It really is true that things are appreciated more in their absence. I'm not going to feign complete shock in reaction to the realization of how dependent I am on the internet. During the past year, I spent many of my productive hours of a day on the internet (which sadly speaks nothing of my productivity). It's been my most trusted, dependable and of course, entertaining connection to the world. So, yes, I'm dependent on the internet to an extent. But.... maybe a little more than I imagined. The last ten days I haven't had access to facebook, no blogging, no quora, no youtube and on and on. Thankfully, I had internet on my phone that I could use to message my friends if the network was gracious enough to grant me a signal at that golden hour.

I have a new place and new people to get to know but there is a constant yearning and an ache of separation that wants to see something familiar to assure my senses that the world I know still exists. In that way, I'm immensely grateful to technology. The cradle of connection does a lot to the psyche.

But I'm still sane, still smiling, still relishing the newness of a new phase. And this is where the reason for change comes in. Time. Yes, it's wise old time. The answer to every "why" comes with time and every "why" turns into a beautiful realization that comes like the glowing sun on a foggy morning.

Barriers are broken. New identities are formed. Common grounds are discovered. Friendships are forged. It all just takes time. Things are of course not the same as they are in school. But they get better with time.

Of all the lessons college has taught me in a week (the number is astounding), this could be the most important. It has taught me that I won't always go alone for lunch but neither will I lose my precious solitude.

~Returning to present day~

Rereading this has left me surprised. Time indeed does a lot. I look at my very recent experiences as if at a younger person's. Maybe it's just an illusion of maturity or I have actually gained some.

Weeks don't seem like months anymore. There is plenty of work to do and I find myself hearteningly enthusiastic and eager to learn though I was mildly terrified of my subjects at the beginning. But that doesn't mean my old friend laziness has abandoned me. He does chip in now and then to remind me of what a deceivingly lovely friend he is.

About friendships, I see myself patting the back of the 3 weeks younger me. And the younger me responds with a pleasantly surprised look as she sees the future. That makes it pretty clear, doesn't it?

Right now, the only negative feeling is that of worthlessness as I see and hear about great minds accomplishing astonishing things. And I hope this feeling of worthlessness gives me the push to be the person I want to be. Pure unadulterated me!
 

A Familiar Face

After a hiatus of sorts, it's good to be back and typing. As for the reason for my break, it would be that the creativity fairy has been eluding me painfully and I decided to finally sit down today and summon her no matter what. So today, I'm feeling myself after a long time and being grateful to every person and thing that helped me get here. ~A big smile~

In one of my surprisingly often epiphanies (three or four a year is often, right?), I realised people are always trying to win the approval of others for an unstated reason. I believe the reason, wherever it exists, would be to feel a sense of pride from being adored or praised. But when all you seek is another's approval, you start losing out the satisfaction and other finer things you get from doing things for yourself. That joy is simply unparalleled. Today, having experienced that pleasure after a long time, I'm truly relishing it. And here, the product:

A FAMILIAR FACE

On an island unknown
Beneath a starless sky
Blind, alone
And lost, stood I.

A familiar face,
I kept looking at,
Through a dreamy haze
In my clouded head.

The face lingered.
In surreality I remained. 
And when it did blur,
I struggled, cried and pained. 

The lapping waves gently
Pulled me back to reality
Though I fought obstinately
Wanting to live in fantasy.

Gathering strength,
Myself I braced
And opened my eyes 
To see a familiar face.

Not the one on my mind
But ever more welcoming
A forgotten visage, still kind,
Knowing and forgiving.

I reached out,
I stepped forward
And I found
My acts mirrored.

When hand met hand
The answer occurred.
For I had touched glass
And with myself I reunited.

ROADBLOCKS TO EXPRESSION

A heated debate on a news channel today about the opposition to portrayal of anything that even slightly brushed existing religious sentiments in movies drove me to infer the following points:

• Such oppositions occur where the religious community in question constitutes a minority of the total population of the state.

         It started off with one movie. Vishwaroopam. Though the censor board cleared it for release, a religious community protested. The release date in Tamil Nadu was pushed further and further away as the problem dragged on until the filmmaker agreed to remove certain scenes from the movie. The movie with the enormous amount of hype that preceded it has been cut, disfigured, and been stolen of its entirety. All the eager fans, waiting through all the exhausting drama, are now left disappointed. The important questions here are : Does the government have the power to exert its authority on a movie that the censor board has already  approved? And why is the movie hurtful to the said community of this state alone while their counterparts in the other states don't have a problem with it? After all, religions don't alter with boundaries. A retired censor board member said during the debate that in his years on the board he had seen no protests to movies that even questioned the fundamentals of a religion in the neighbouring state Kerala. He attributed it to their progressive thinking. This made me think that the reason why the minority communities protest so vigorously in our state is not just because their thinking is backward but mainly because of their fear. Their fear of something in a movie causing people to forge a bad impression of the religion in their minds, their fear of the followers losing faith because of the views of a filmmaker, their fear that their dignity will be beaten. Yes, ours is a country that assures the fraternity of an individual. But the movie doesn't wound their dignity. If that were taken as reason, fiction couldn't exist for there are many ways for people to take offense. Cinema or any other mass media is not a tool to propagate any religion or faith. And as long as people don't look at it objectively, they're going to find reasons to protest.

This is not the first time an opposition has occurred and this won't be the last but what concerns me is that this will motivate more such oppositions. One has already sparked off 3 others. How long before one can actually make a movie at peace? 

• Religious groups take every mention personally, be it in a book, movie, painting or any other expression of thought. 

         What is the meaning of freedom of expression when an artist cannot express himself/herself without his work being trampled with by others to suit them? The first step to creating art is not to create something that would be okay with the prospective audience. The first step is to put the thought from the artist's mind to paper. After that comes tweaking it to suit the audience so that they're unhurt by it. But there's a bar on it. The artist can't go on tweaking it until it is something that he barely identifies with. If we want artists, we need to appreciate them for what they produce for that is the reason we respect them. Subjecting them to stress and insecurity is not respect. There are objections to everything. An all-girl band? Fatwa. A painting a political party thinks hurts culture? Tear it down. And soon... freedom of expression? Second only to religious groups' approval.

All day and night

I labor

With all my might

To savor

With satisfaction
And elation

The appreciation

With much anticipation.

But I am left here

After all the wear

With an insult and a tear.

Dedicated to all artists. 

To Enjoyment and Robert Brault

Robert Brault's quotes are witty, delightful and truthful in a way that makes you wonder how you hadn't realized a specific thing about life until you read it in his words. Today, his new set of brainchildren brightened up my day. One in particular has been absolutely endearing. So, I made a little collage with the quote for all to enjoy!

Reflections

Love doesn't expect. It accepts. You fall in love with something that you see or feel, not what you would like to see.

Interaction with a person happens across several levels. We get to know someone. We're struck by what we  see first. Not looks, but the vibe or the aura of the person. And when we feel drawn by it, we fall in love with that person. And unwittingly create a judgement of the person and put them in a frame we made for them. Now that person has a definition inside our head.

A few levels later, we've gotten to know the person much more. And also taught them what we think of them. On many an occasion, one learns more about oneself, or at least what others think of one, when one learns of others' definition of one. And on twice as many an occasion, that definition starts bothering one. The definition restricts. It confines. It insults.

The definition is a picture of how much of your personality matters to the other party. The frame cannot be adjusted, widened or altered in any way. Once you exhibit a thought, action or emotion not included in the frame you're considered as not being yourself.

But does there exist something as not being oneself? Every action is a result of one's thoughts. And one's thoughts are one's own. They are our assessments of our situations, products of our experiences and observations and an outcome of our conscious and subconscious thought process.

What stands out in us at first meeting need not necessarily be the representative of every experience or emotion we've had or are capable of having. The first impression may be the best, but it's not complete or all-informing. To restrict a person's thinking or emotional capability is to dishonor the person's character. It is demeaning to perceive it as something shallow, keeping the parts that please us and discarding the rest.

What one can feel is something that can't be defined or put in a frame. Different experiences evoke different reactions and feelings in us. To tell one that one isn't being oneself is to be selfish and not trouble ourselves with the rougher patches.

And love has never been selfish. Love always gives. It is the fittest synonym for selflessness. Love doesn't come at the cost of making a person feel shallow or insulted. It doesn't gloss over the ugly things. Love doesn't expect. It accepts.

Loving one's own self happens when no frames are formed or existing ones are broken. To define who we are now, where we want to be or what we want to achieve is healthy and perhaps even necessary. But to define in essence what we are allowed to be and what we want to be to fit others' definitions of us or please others is to cage ourselves. It is to prevent ourselves from exploring and experiencing, most importantly of other things, fulfillment and self-satisfaction and in turn loving ourselves. 

INSIDE

I didn't have to wait too long. And I didn't just get a sign, I got all the answers.

A lone lamppost stood at the turn. During the day, it bathed in the Sun and in the evening gave light. 

It did its duty fine and gay.

But the passing days settled on it dust and grime.

The dirt didn't let it enjoy the Sun or give light like before.

Its spirits fell.

Then one evening came the rain

Washing away the dirt.

It came for the lamppost

For the lamppost had called to it in dire need.

The lamppost found its light again

And went back to what it loved the most:

Loving itself.

That's pretty much the story of how I got my answers.

Where's the light?

Right now, this moment, I feel like doing exactly what Elizabeth Gilbert does at the beginning of "Eat Pray Love" : breakdown on the bathroom floor. And the same question resonates in my head "How did I end up here?"
I've known myself for quite some time now having spent almost 18 years with myself. And of all the people I've met, I've been the hardest for me to understand. I feel like I have a third person view of myself at times, looking from another dimension and thinking "Is this what I am? And what exactly am I?"
The questions are endless. But I seem to be facing a blind alley when I look for the answers.
What exactly are we? What the society thinks of us? What people who matter to us think of us? Or what we think of ourselves? And in what way are we supposed to think of ourselves?
And for me the question that seems to be nibbling at my mind is "Are my opinions of certain things influenced by the opinions of people who matter to me?"
My view is mine and I stand by what I believe in, but am I too flexible in some situations? And is that bad?

"Being in two minds" is what I seem to be experiencing now. There's one part of my mind that wants to throw out a certain element and there's the other where that element is firmly lodged and is hard for me to throw out. If there's a solution to this, I'm yet to find it.

On lookout for a sign. 

A Serendipitous Tryst

The weather here today is overcast. I could feel the sad romance in the air calling out to me, so I decided to desert my math books today and instead took up a book by L.M.Montgomery. It was the perfect weather for some good old Prince Edward Island stories. I read the story Fancy's Fool again and inspired by it, actually penned down a romantic poem (which is very rare for me)! I like to call it "A Serendipitous Tryst". 

As the unseen stars
And the unheard music
Guided his feet,
He walked up the steps
Unknowingly
Toward a path
that faintly seemed
to speak of 
Enticement and beauty

She drifted in through the rusty gates
Lost in a reverie.
Reminiscent of a distant evening.
Was that a dream?
But a dream so beautiful
Reality lost competing.

She moved further
And stopped short
For was she to see
Coming up the steps
A fragment of her dream

He picked his way 
Through stone and rock
To tread the path
Where his breath stopped
For enticed was he. 

At first sights were exchanged
Then were words.
And unseen and unheard
A bond was formed,
And lasted long,
On the old stone wall.  

Witty Signboards

When people hear I'm on a year off, they say "Wow that's so cool...You should enjoy your free time now... you'll never get this again..." Well, it's not all that cool. And I don't know if I ever do want this again. I'm not a person who jumps at the task in hand with full energy if given the chance to choose my own deadlines. That too with such a long time, it's really hard to be energetic all the time. Laziness doesn't chip in in my life these days, it hardly ever chips out! Though I do work on my studies everyday, there is not a day that passes without me stretching and yawning midday. Then I have to take a break and do something else.
Today, when I decided to do "something else" I stumbled upon some funny signboards. So I'm going to humour you with some of them.

This one is outside a temple in Bali. Balinese are extremely religious people. The book "Eat Pray Love" is invaluable when it comes to knowledge about Balinese traditions, and even otherwise is an insightful book.

                                              Here are some witty signs outside restaurants

Girls, I know one place you wouldn't want to go to on a date......

A SWIMMING POOL AD

I strongly advocate this ad. It used to happen to me when I was little.

Creative and to-the-point. 

                                                   Quite a word of praise about the police!

                                                           
                                                              This is the funniest!!

HEAVY BAGS AND HEAVIER MINDS

5:00 am. The alarm goes off. The day begins with ‘a’ plus ‘b’ the whole squared. Breakfast is with Sinx and Cosx. Over the course of the day the visitors range from acetaldehyde to propanoic acid while the Avogadro number is of course a constant. The lullaby at the end of the day is a medley of complex numbers, co-ordinate geometry and relativity.

This is how the day of a typical high school student goes. This ritual continues into college (engineering colleges, of course). Interestingly, this trend began hardly a generation back.  With the growing obsession of ranks and placements, the real meaning of education has been lost. Certainly, exams are necessary and ranks are essential in the allocation of seats to a huge number of students such as in our country. But when interest and healthy competition change to pressure, it shouldn’t be a surprise that although we produce more engineers than the US, 80% of them are unemployable. 

From being a serious and difficult terrain to tread on, engineering has evolved into a go-to course for anyone out of school and clueless about their next step. With 535 engineering colleges in our state, soon their number would be giving competition to the number of tea stalls around.

In the 1930s and 40s, children (now grandparents) barely completed their schooling. But their knowledge is more profound compared to the formula-reciting, tuition-going children of this age. Academic stress was unheard of back then. But the atmosphere in which they were raised taught them to handle any kind of stress as opposed to the fragile minds of today’s children which is clearly revealed by the growing suicide rates among teenagers. Alarming acts of childhood violence these days show that the aggressiveness of students has reached an all-time high. While our schools may be developing the logical reasoning parts of the brain, the cognitive areas are left unattended to. Organization, planning and social skills are as important as academics. A child should be given the space to learn from the surroundings as it was in our grandparents’ times. What is learnt can be appreciated more if learnt in an engrossing way.

A clear and calm mind is the first step to achieving a goal. So, surely, learning can also be done minus the pressure and tension. Education should culminate in the full realization of a student’s potential, having given him tools to wield his mind productively in the world while instilling in him a sense of passion. This would enrich our country and make the halcyon days of childhood and youth a joyful memory to recollect for every individual. 

MY WHEELED COMRADE!

I met you years ago. There was no need for an introduction. I immediately fell in love with you. Our relationship began with falls and bruises. But I cherished them because I was learning to get along with someone who would eventually go on to become an important part of my life. It didn't take long for us to become great friends. A single jerk of my hand and you would do as I wished.People, places, experiences weaved in and out of my life. Ponytails became plaits and my uniform skirt became a salwar but you stayed with me through it all silently.

You’re my flying carpet, my Firebolt, my Range Rover. You have gone down with an occasional puncture but you were back up and going without any complaints once you were fixed. I've abandoned you for months together but you've never retorted. You understood always.

And now in my dire need of you, you've come back like a bright ray of sunshine, once again reminding me that there’s always hope and joy around. You’re my most faithful companion, Sun or rain. What would I do without you, my bicycle!

LIGHTS… CAMERA… IMPRESS!

On a sultry Sunday afternoon, as my lazy eyes move over the television screen completely devoid of any interest, suddenly a spark goes off in my mind. The eyes lose their laziness and opinions start flooding my head at the sight of an advertisement. One thing common to all TV channels, be it a sports channel or a news channel, is the famous “short commercial break”. The advertisers have done it all – pins, pens, paints, pants… what not?

Sometimes the ads are more engaging than the actual program. It is indeed interesting to see how the hero of the ad overcomes hurdles that include street dogs, children playing on the streets, barbed wires and manages to outrun the bad boys chasing him to spectacularly save his soft drink bottle. All this is accomplished within a maximum of 60 seconds which earns the ads more points and fans. The swift movements of the actors coupled with the energetic jingle in the background pronounce the ads as surefire successes. It’s not just the foot-tapping ads that are well received. The soft, thought-provoking ones stand long in the minds of viewers. If the ad happens to feature a child between the age of 3 and 7 – fans assured. It doesn’t just have to be children. Large animate cartoon-like characters speaking a made-up language not even the director can understand are all the rage now. And to turn this adorable creature into a superhero all one has to do is tie a red cape around its neck and make use of advanced animation programs to make it fly around the world saving people. Audience impressed! Sales hiked! Manager happy!

The truth is that viewers don’t know what ads they want. It all lies in the hands of the ad-maker to get the desired response from the audience. And that response is not going to be obtained by following the old beaten track. Generation after generation of steel and cement companies have claimed to be the strongest. All of their ads sport the same old dilapidated house which after renovation is nothing less than Taj Mahal II. All the construction material ads are so similar it is a Herculean task to tell one from the other.

Ads that don’t tell the viewer anything about the product are of little help too. The ad where the wife breaks into complicated brigas of classical music trying to provide competition to her husband’s guitar has as much connection to cooking oil as Aryabhata to rock music. Quite frankly, an ad that has nothing to say about its product will hardly gain a shred of seriousness or respect from the viewers. 

Advertisements are a means of connecting with the common man and making him understand that the producers know what his needs and wants are. So, it is extremely important that the advertisers make wise use of their chance to capture the viewer’s heart. Though ads do annoy us viewers now and then by interfering with our TV shows and movies, we have to sit through them because for the sponsors – har ek ad jaroori hota hai!