Highway

 I don't usually write a review about a movie or a book as I don't think I am worthy enough to publish my say on someone's hard work.   This isn't a review, though I am happy to recommend anyone reading this to watch the movie - if you haven't already. 

Highway, is perhaps the first movie that made me think I should write about. Now, let's be clear,  I am not saying it is the best movie ever. I would probably not go away and watch it 100 times over like I do with a few other movies, some that I had written about a while ago. I didn't love all the songs, I did think it was slow paced, I thought it could have been shorter, which, by the way, I think about every Hindi movie I watch these days. But, in spite of sounding so negative about it so far, there were enough things in the movie that made me think about it, made me go back to it even when it was over. 

This movie made me connect with it in more ways than one. I could relate with the character, with the free spirit, with the travels and tales that come with it, with taking each day as it comes and mainly with 'NOT having a plan'. It must sound like I live in a fancy fairy tale taking each day as it comes, not knowing where I am headed, just go with the flow and all that. But, in all honestly, when I give it a thought or two, I have been doing that for more years than I care to remember. 

Traveling is something that can catch up with most people pretty easily. It's addictive. You plan a travel, make your bookings and go away for a while and I bet, a few days after you return, you're most likely browsing and reading about the next potential travel if not booking it. 

I love to travel too but my travel needs to have a factor of nature to it. A week in the most expensive beach resort just does not attract me. Instead, tell me we are going for a cycling tour of 3 days for 8hrs a day and I am all up for it. Guess you know what I am talking about.  That thrill to experience the place in your own way, by touching it, but connecting it with simple things like climb a hill, wash your feet on a brook, look up at the sky and observe the stars and just marvel at the solid mountain range that stands so strong. Highway brought out that person who enjoys going out and about and relishing the moment - whatever the place and situation has to offer, feeling that place and taking in what it has to offer. 

One of my wildest fantasies have been to hitchhike a ride on a lorry (well... a truck!) in India and voila! the movie is shot mostly on a truck and the road and the pit stops of this journey. The way the cargo lorry system operates in India makes me wonder. It probably is such a lonely job, when you see those drivers take these truck loads to many miles away with almost a week or so on the road and the only point of contact with people, the communication and interaction would be when they stop for a refreshment, that little cup of tea may be. There must be so many stories associated with a travel like that, but it makes me think if they really think about it as an adventure. Do they not think of it as their job? their Bread & butter? Surely, it's hard,being away from family, being on the road constantly without really a familiar place, I bet they do it for a living and not for the kick that the travel gives you for the likes of you and me. This character is perfectly portrayed by Ranveer Hooda in the film. You know that this man holds many stories with him behind that hard exterior one sees. Haven't we seen many such people, many of these lorry drivers taking a little break at a dhaba on the highway? 

Imtiaz Ali, the director, must be a wanderer of sorts. The way he has brought in the music of the road, of the region blend in to the main story makes it so real. The things that Veera, played by Alia Bhatt ends up doing - talking to herself, gape at a hill and the next minute you are climbing it, the many stops for chai, sitting on a rock and just looking at the scenery or should I say the non-existence of a scenery. Something as simple as making Maggi in a little hut up the hill or the fact that she doesn't think about the next day. She's living that moment like she's in a dream world captured me really dearly. 

"Jahan se tum mujhe laye ho, mein wahan wapas nahi jaana chahti.

 Jahan bhi le ja rahe ho, wahan pahunchna nahi chahti.

 Par yeh raasta, yeh bahut accha hai.

 Mein chahti hoon ki yeh raasta kabhi khatam na ho."

These words did it for me.  I cannot remember the number of times I have wished that the ride never ended, that feeling of coming to an end and not being able to re-create the moment happens when we reach the destination. All we have left is the memories of the road. 

“Life is a journey, not a destination.” 

― Ralph Waldo Emerson 

How true was this man saying this? I don't think I agree with this more at this stage in my life. Let's see what a few years down holds for me. But for now, I am happy to stick to this.

                               

London Diaries - Time for a Cuppa - Yumchaa

Firstly, lets get this clear. Yumchaa is a chain of tea shops now sprouting up at many different places in London but this one I am talking about is a Yumchaa in Camden Lock overlooking the little food market and the canal and makes you feel like you have walked into one of those quaint little tea stalls tucked away in a little alley in a perfect little town.

Stepping into the rugged unfinished walls and decor just makes you ease out and feel relaxed that nothing around you including you needs to be in an orderly way. Just let go, sip tea and be with yourself. 

The selection of teas are remarkable. My post, many months ago on tea was the first one to take me into the world of different teas, but this took me to a whole new level.  

You can pick from black, green and white (never knew they existed). The tea leaves are places in little mugs which you can smell into and read through the description of what goes into the tea. 

I picked Wild Rose - the aroma of the rose petals with the earthy flavour of tea was just the thing I enjoyed. 

You get the rules of working through your tea (well.. nothing too strict) and get one of the prettiest tea pots to dive into the warmth.

The selection of cakes and the way they are displayed makes you wanna grab a bite. 

I've been there a few times now and would recommend as a stop over from walking around the otherwise busy Camden Market. 

London Diaries - Time for a Cuppa - White Mulberries

Any time is a good time for Coffee - whoever said this (if at all), said it right. I am a coffee person during the day and a tea person during the late afternoons and evenings and would not mind spending a free moment at a coffee shop. Ask to meet me at a coffee shop and I am ever ready.

This cold winter's day in London, having a day off, I set out to gallivant around the streets of the city. I made up my mind to pick a warm little coffee shop to spend the afternoon. St. Katherine's docks was one of the first few places I had visited in London and had fallen for the place instantly.

White Mulberries is tucked away amongst other cafes, delis and shops bang in the middle of the docks.

Having had a rather heavy meal with a friend this afternoon I decided on coffee and a sweet treat.  Flat white was my pick and it was well worth it.

The simple décor with exposed brick and views over the dock makes you wanna sit there forever sipping the warmth. Ideal place with a book or to browse.

It was perhaps the first time I had toasted banana bread, the right amount of sweet, crunch and buttery goodness - I would give my vote for the best I have had so far in London. The other cake loaves looked yumm too.

Lunch was not on my mind, so I didn't bother much, though there were no veggie options for the sandwiches and rolls the ones that were displayed looked freshly made and full of fillings - I bet it would be good.

The staff were friendly, pretty much every one who walked in had a chat with the barista.

I would definitely go back to this one and oh! I also have a loyalty card!

On the Run

Living in one of the global cities such as London is quite synonymous to always being on the run.  A fast paced life that it is here one doesn't have a choice but to run.

Funny that a few years ago when I was home in India watching the Hollywood movies (with English subtitles) , the likes of Stepmom, Notting Hill, You've got Mail (now you know the trend here) I wondered how cool it is to be living in a huge city, getting ready to head to work (like you own the world), pretty much what the million other people around you are doing, grabbing a coffee from the local cafe and literally running with it. Phew! How stupid was I to think this was cool. God! this is the crazy routine that I have today and was 'blessed without' years ago when I started work back home. Well... to be honest there is a method in the madness, it's not all that bad you know.... it just has to be the right time in your life and not for too many years (tending towards moving on). 

Many times on my commute to and from work, I can't help but laugh at the little things I come across, the routine run of the people around me, the craziness of the transport system and the mundane emotionless faces that you see on your journeys. I can go on about this in another blog post (May be...) 

Well... It's a city on the move, a life on the move and all's actually good when things are moving,  isn't it. 

The other side to the 'run' is the actual habit of going for a run, though it comes across as something that is not forced onto you, the city you live in, the people around you, the lifestyle does influence you a lot. 

Athletics was never on my list of favourite sport. I don't remember enjoying the idea about running, sprinting, long jump, High jump  all that happened to be typical 'sports day' activities back in school, which of course were a far cry for me. I remember making stories of how unwell I was or how I just hurt myself just a couple of days before the event so I didn't have to take part. Some bad on my school's part too which seemed like they did a huge favour in giving you a tiny chance. (which I think I have mentioned earlier, but here I go again)

I had pretty much convinced myself that I only need to run when I am chased, of course by something which had a chance to hurt me. Yes!  Did that ever really happen in my life? Cannot recollect! 

I also had no sense of competition to run a race, beat someone, set a mark.  Wow, some points for being enthusiastic about aiming high. 

Why Bother! was my favourite statement. Little did I know that would change. 

I need to give credit to my husband who initially got me into this habit of running. I remember dreading the weekends as the morning ritual was to go out for a run, he having completed it 10-15 mins before and looking out for me trod along. 

I remember HIM telling me that he has never seen me sprint,  my answer being why I should I be doing anything like that.i.e. you would never see me doing anything like that. 

He commented that I don't seem to have the stance of a runner (someone in flight, LOL!), I used to just about manage, could barely breathe, each step being painful ..... I did call it running though!

Unfortunately, Fitness is not a destination, it's as much a journey as anything else and I cant help but repeat this to myself. I am keen to go out for my run and I actually look forward to it.  Just Imagine! 

Many factors that I think has helped me shape my attitude towards this regime to be on the run:

- My husband who thinks being fit and healthy is all there is to a human. 

- The Apps on the mobile - Nike + Running, Endomondo which got me started

- The City of London that I call home now, if not for the beautiful parks and locales I would not have had the drive. 

- The weather (mostly) being cold. Yes! God help those who run in 27+degC, I find it totally hard. 

- Little challenges that I set for myself. I'm not such a great person to not live by goals... they are what keep me going.

It still seems so funny yet weird to be saying and doing something that you never thought you would. How things change.....

Ok! That's it for now.. gotta run! 

There is an END.

Firstly, for a few of you who thought this is the end of my blogging ability, you are wrong. This is not going to be my concluding post unless God would want it otherwise.

Life of Pi, by Yann Martel was a book I must say that was way too fictitious for my liking. The whole idea of a boy on a boat with a tiger and ending up on a island full of meercats was a little too out of scale for my imagination.  There however were many quotes in the book forming life lessons which kept me going. I knew there had to be a conclusion to it more human than fiction.
Well, this post is not about my review of the book or the movie which I think was beautifully shot. I find myself pretty insignificant in a writer's world to be able to put up reviews of another's work.

The sensitive me that I am at times got caught onto one such line - " I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye".

As I tread through the path that life brings upon me I reflect what I have left behind more often than where I am headed towards. Knowing very well that what's gone is gone, what's done is done and there should 'ideally' be no looking back. This makes me think that I perhaps don't have the 'letting go' factor in me unlike a few others who can do it with great ease.

Always part ways with a smile - something that you have always heard the elders say. Do they allow you to leave home with a tear? No. They want to see you smiling, they'd want to see you happy. That parting note when leaving home with hugs and smiles and laughter is what makes you look forward to the next time that you see and greet each other again. There is a happy note which says that you will get together again.

On the other hand, when you part with a person on an argument, on a unpleasant note something is left undone. It bothers you day in and day out. The end that should not have been did not happen in the right way. There is always this uneasiness that you did not depart by saying a bye, for wishing well, for taking the memories along.....to the person, to that relationship that meant so much to you...you did not Complete it.

Some things are not always in our hands, death can bring that parting...when you are not prepared, when you were not expecting it, it leaves a void that cannot be erased. I hate myself a little more every time I think about my grand dad who passed away. I moved out of home to a far away land to start my home, never did I think even once on that early morning when I was stepping into the car to drive away to the airport that I would not see him again, talk to him again. It took a phone call of 50bucks on a cold morning to hear that he is no more. I still don't know how to handle my emotions when I think about this.

At the end of the day, at every instant, with everyone around you, I always think that I haven't grown out of it, I have not moved away from the thought, but when you actually see it in the end the whole life indeed is an act of letting go....we all let go and when we think about that someone, that something it is nothing but a memory.
When the mother gives birth to her baby, she's letting go of the physical connection she had, when we leave our parents and go away to study, to work, we are letting go the pat of being bound to, our parents on the other hand are letting go of the fear, when two people get married and decide to spend the rest of their lives together they are letting go of all other priorities that they had in life, when death do us apart from a loved one, we let go... we carry on with our lives and stop to spare a thought.

I do think that I get stuck onto things, events, people a lot more than another person.....I would like to go back and shake a hand, say a hello, give a hug and re-start where I have left......but, along the path of life and towards the end of a path.........
We only think that we haven't let go.... but we all have...and will continue to do so.

Bangalore Diaries

My mind is still fresh with the memories of my visit to home and home town. I sense a rush in me to complete this write up, I also sense the restlessness that I will not do justice in translating my thoughts to this blog. 

There is something about Bangalore (for me its specifically South Bangalore) that is hard to explain especially to someone who doesn't belong to it. They just don't get what the gaga is all about. 

Let's face it. It's not the best city on earth. It definitely does not score any points on the infrastructure aspect of it. It has too many people. It's become very expensive. The traffic is a mess and the weather isn't great anymore. In spite of all this there is a certain old world charm that stays hand in hand with the progress of modern day. 

I noticed myself noticing certain things that make a difference to me. Some of them are so simple, so silly that I was surprised that I was even bothering about it. This is what makes it home for me and makes the place unique. There are many memories etched in many different places  that makes me go back to it. 

Most of the main streets in Bangalore have huge trees on either sides of the road, the names of which I know not . It forms a beautiful canopy to the main, typically traffic clogged road. The tree lined streets for the residential areas blooming with May flowers form a pretty sight. Most houses have a coconut tree or two, the sky scape is filled with high flying coconut trees. In season, Mango trees everywhere are completely clad with fruit. 

As you step out in the hot summer sun, the majjige from Nandini diary cools you. Just as you think that the days are too hot and unbearable, the evening brings with it summer showers and makes the air pleasant like there was no heat.  The morning after the rains are the best, the air is fresh, all the trees having had their wash, the green looks greener.

Though, a big city, residential areas do have a community feel to it with most of the residents having lived there for 30+ years.

That street side vegetable vendor who saw me after ages enquired how Pune was, remembering that I worked there when I first had a job, something which is fading away from my own memory.  Makes me remember the other vegetable vendor who came to the same street every day at 4:30pm for 32years. If that seems long, the gentleman who brings butter and door delivers it every 3rd Sunday so my grandma can make ghee has been visiting us for 45years. 

I will have to write about Prakash who runs a little 'Masala Puri Gaadi', we overheard someone calling him this, years later we found out that his actual name was shivanna. Eating paani puris from him are so entertaining. He incorporates cricketing terms while he's serving the gol guppas one after the other. He usually serves it for 3-4 people at a time on a round robin basis and treats them as a team of players, actually batsmen. He throws in an extra piece in between and calls it a no ball. If while placing the puri on the plate, it breaks , he calls it a dead ball. If the puri is a huge one, he terms that a googly. Just after one plate is done, he asks if we are ready for another over and if we are done he declares us Out and calls out to the next team to play the new over. I cannot think of this happening anywhere else. 

It was the time of the year when then SSLC and PUC results were out. The newspaper was full of it. The talk from the maid, to the milkman was about someone who scored well, oasis with flying colours and their ambitions. It's that phase every child in India who's fortunate enough to get education goes through. So much is decided about your life at these two points.

There is a balance in life that most people do. I saw myself going for a walk in lalbagh, attending a wedding, visiting the temple for a puja, watching a movie, catching up with a friend at a coffee shop and going out to the pub all on the same day. The variety of activities that's thrown at you is so random.

I could perhaps go on and on about many things and each line will be out of sync with the others. What I feel about being in Bangalore and what I do there cannot happen anywhere else in the world and no matter how much I try, I can't express well enough in words. 

Summer Holidays

I keep going back in time to try and relive some cherished moments. I very often wonder whether I'd do the same after 20+ years about the present day..... I wonder what I would think about... there seems nothing so special about the current life. Well....I'll ponder about it some other day.

I am going to be writing about my summer vacation during school, those 2 months of all play, no books, no exams, and no rules. I am sure each one of us has a long story to weave about this one.

We (amma, brother and me) visited my maternal grandparents every year for more than a month during this time. Our other cousins with my aunt came there too. (we called my grandparents ambu ajji and dada and often referred to the home simply as ajji mane)

As my grandparent’s house was adjacent to another close relatives’, more cousins, second cousins, aunts & friends used to join in. In short, it was one huge unending party.

Ajji mane had a huge garden with 2 large mango trees, a jackfruit tree, mulberry plant amongst many other shrubs, plants, trees -small and big. As it was the season of the mangoes, there were at least 2-3 days spent in getting the mangoes plucked, picking them, sorting them and sharing them with neighbours, friends and relatives. Then came ajji's turn in making delicacies with mango one wouldn't have thought of.

Once the mango activity died down, my cousins and I settled down to play games which are both indoor and outdoor. Most often we used to play carrom board (reminds me to tell you that my colleagues in the UK had never heard of this game!), cards, Chinese chequers amongst traditional ones like kunte bille, chowkha baarah, pagadi and more modern ones like badminton and cricket - needless to say that we used to pick the sport either looking at the time of the day or when we had a bad fight on the previous game and had to start something new to forget and move on.

It also used to be the time of torrential rains, you know when it gets really hot, it tends to pour it down on a certain day. Those days were great fun! Play in the rain and have bhaji's in the evening as a treat. I remember this huge tree outside ajji's home which had big orange flowers covered with a shell that resembled a boat, we called it the boat tree (no points for guessing this one). The rains used to bring this down and we loved playing with these in the rain making little rivers out of pathways. 

Ambu ajji was one of the best cooks and the most hospitable people I have ever seen. 

Every night we gathered around her for her numerous stories - the likes of Ramayana, Mahabharata, aesops fables and panchatantra. While she told us the stories, she fed us our dinner by giving us Kai thutthu ( she made balls of rice and each of us get a piece of it in a round robin basis, we carry on doing this, on most occasions until the food runs out - while I write this, I can't help but chuckle at my description in English!) - Of course we ended up eating much more than we would have if it was served separately to us.

The other activity was getting Mehendi on our hands (the western world calls it henna art - something that makes me grin every time I hear it!). My dear mom was the artist, we all got to pick a design from a little book and take turns in getting it done. The next morning's activity was sorted as we spent time comparing designs, the shades, and colour of the patterns on our hands.

Those were the times when TV meant only DD with one movie every week. So, the luxury we received was to rent a VCD player for a few days and rent tapes to watch every night and during hot afternoons. It used to be a mini cinema hall as about 25-30 people gathered in the tiny living room to be a part of this occasion. I had my first Hindi lessons watching the classics ....sangam, shree 420, khamoshi to name a few.

Dada, as we fondly called my grandpa just loved children. Every evening he used to take all us kids out for a stroll either to LalBagh, Bugle Rock, Hanumanthana betta or Gandhi Bazaar ( there is no place like south Bangalore). He often resembled a pied piper with children following him. The evening stroll with him also came with treats in the name of ice creams, roasted peanuts or chocolates.  We used to be thrilled.

In between all this, I came up with this idea of holding entertainment programmes (EPs. A show we put up and have music, plays, jokes, monoacts, quizzes, dance and drama in it. I am quite proud of this little activity which I started. Age-wise, I was bang in the middle of the crowd, the older cousins thought I was too young, however, the younger ones thought I was the big sis they could look up to - I adored the attention. So, I got my younger cousin sis and my brother and we three formed our little entertainment company.  We did, if i recollect it, around 9 such EPs and it was a huge thing, everyone liked it....I wish I can get my hands on the feedback forms which we had asked all to write. 

It was a simple life, with simple aspirations; so generally, we always had a good time. Those days are never going to come back and I guess our next generation will somehow always miss the joys in simple things.  I cherish those days - it was called Summer Holidays for a reason and we made the most of it. 

The Comfort of Ignorance

While talking to a friend recently about random things we spoke about certain people who you might not really know you well, but who tend to share something’s close to them that they cannot do with people who they know intimately.


It might be a good thing or a bad thing. But typically, they tend to discuss thoughts about other people, crushes they might have had at different times, some failed relationships, perhaps issues at home too.

My friend and I were talking about why is it that some people open up such thoughts to others who they just know as an acquaintance. They might know nothing about you or your life; however tend to easily shell out what they have.

My friend put this in a nice way that it is ' The Comfort of Ignorance' that's makes people open up such way to someone they hardly know. Even better, to a person who doesn't know much about them as a person or their world. They can talk about people in their life and typically pain caused easily as the listener here knows no one and can just listen with an open mind without any preconceived notions.

This thought that my friend put across and what made us discuss it is why this note took shape in my blog today...

Dada....This is for you...

This is for the person whom i can't forget, a person who was a constant source of inspiration for me. This is for you... Dada...we used to call him that...my Mom's dad. School days are the best days of your life.. who says 'no'? Yes indeed they were the best days of our lives.


Come summer holidays( two full months of April and May) after the final exams, we packed our bags to go to Grandma's house. Grandma-Pa stayed at Bangalore itself, so it was just a change of area for some days.. All cousins used to gather, lots of fun activities, lots of things to do... to look forward to.

Grandpa's house was nice, two mango trees, jackfruit tree, mulberry tree..lots of place to play. It used to be fun. we used to play all day, quarrel also in between, but overall used to have a lot of fun. In the evening dada used to take all of us out either to Lalbagh, bugle rock (very close to Basavanagudi) or to Gandhi bazaar or any other place. It was amazing to see him handle all of us with so much patience. i dont remember him getting angry on anyone of us for any reason. He used to patiently show us the place around, buy us something to eat..usually ice cream/peanuts... not more than that because our granny would have actually packed us some nice stuff for our picnic (as we called it!). We roamed around till it was dark and returned home back to our indoor games room.

When it came to academics, I was generally an above average student... but had lots of problems with maths. It usually happened that all my cousins scored 90+ on 100 or some of them a 100/100 but I was the one who had always lagged behind. Those few days used to be bad....I used to feel so low...everyone said 'Maths is where you can score full marks!' .. but how??? why didnt that happen with me?? I was down and out!

There came my grandpa.. he was one person who lifted my spirits up that one day even I can get maximum marks in it and that 'What you put into anything is all that matters and not what you get from it'. He had been confident that I would get it someday.All this said and done.. every year the same thing repeated and he was there for me...

Then there came an year.. I was in the 5th Standard.. the usual process..but there was something great.. i had a full 100 on 100 in Maths.. the fear of Maths was gone,There was some kind of satisfaction, excitement of achieving something (small or big!) ....the first thing I wanted to do was to show my report card to my grandpa.... but .....it was over...he was no more.

It's such an incomplete feeling...but now I know, that what was learnt by him would always remain.. nothing changes.. he's not amongst us, but his views, his support is always there and that makes me happy...

With Fond Memories...This is for you..Dada...