What if I fall? Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?

"Tell me about forty five minutes before you both have to start for the station, I'll get the dinner", said my cousin amidst socializing and gaming sessions post Diwali. Overpowering her statement, came another voice, "You guys have already missed the train!". This one was Jijaji, who was scanning through our tickets from Delhi to Pathankot on the midnight of October 31st. Kajal and I exchanged pale glances and dived into our phones to check the train details.

"The train is missed, there is a confusion with the date! No no, let us check again! 00:10 on 31st it it, today is 1st! What a blunder! Oh no, how will they go now? No matter what, I am not sending the two girls alone at night by any other means! Drop the plan, spend the vacation in Delhi! Let us check the flight tickets! How far is Jammu from Pathankot? Check the next flight to Amritsar! Drop the plan!"

The room was filled with a million advices and concerns followed by leg pulling and teasing by my aunts, cousins and brother-in-laws. Phew! Kajal and I remembered the night Ria had chosen the train and travel-date for us, and Kajal had booked it on the gunpoint. It wouldn't be a nice idea to deal with the explosive-bride in the heat of the moment, thought Kajal and I, and wore the most helpless face masks ever. Meanwhile, my two adorable jijajis were searching for all possible means to reach Pathankot at the earliest. Finally, after an hour of brainstorming and dinner gulping sessions, Jijaji booked a Shatabdi for us to travel early next morning. Three quick hours of sleeping, and jijaji dropped us to the station to reach Amritsar by noon.

"Amritsar??!!!" exclaimed mother.

Let me give a better picture - if it was any other city in the world, she would have started - "Do not go, what is the need to go? Why do you have to go everywhere? Did you eat? Do not keep going to everyone's house, call everyone home, do not go anywhere, did you eat? What did you eat? No need to go" :/ But because the gorgeous Amritsar it was, the conversation was a little different from the usual trend - "What? How did the train get missed? You girls are so careless, did you eat? Okay good that you are going to Amritsar, try visiting the Golden Temple there, Amritsar is a good city, also have langar there, but be careful. Should I ask mamaji to get you guys picked? Do goto the Golden Temple, but be careful, and do the bookings properly next time." Blahh! My mother happens to be a Punjabi, and anything related to Punjab elates her out of proportion.

We had to manage our ways from Amritsar to Pathankot before dusk. The wedding bells had to ring on the 2nd of November, and 1st evening was the cocktail. Little did we know that the Golden Temple was only about a kilometer away from the Amritsar station. We enquired the whereabouts of the beautiful monument from the locals. "Arun Jaitley is in the town, the routes are blocked, it would be slightly difficult to be back by 5PM", said Sardarji. Our next train to Pathankot was at 5PM, the only train for the day and gosh, it was 1:45PM already! "Sir, we will never be able to see the Golden Temple again, we really really want to see it, we have to reach Pathankot by evening, and we are not coming back, please help us, please", we started spilling serious raita, as if humanity was endangered and the golden enchanting enigma was the end of the world. Sardarji wore an affectionate smile, "Tussi je aa gaye ho etthe, te Babaji ke darshan kar ke hi jao, mai arrange karwa daanga!" He arranged an elderly rickshawala for us, given no cabs available. He directed the old man to keep our luggage in the cloak room, make sure we get darshan and bring us back by 5PM. And lo, so he did! No, the price charged was totally not a bomb-blast. The enthusiastic veteran himself was so promising, without expecting returns, he kept re-iterating, "Aapko darshan karwa ke hi aaoonga!". :) We both were a little scared in the beginning, our courage all spilled hither and thither, but meeting such wonderful people who extended their helping hands, we became composed. We were flabbergasted! (No I haven't flicked this 'flabbergasted' from TVF play I could swear). Golden Temple, a symbol of sublime peacefulness, is another chapter of its own. Every vivid sight of the Sikhs doing so much of selfless service would just steal your heart away. It represents the distinct identity, glory and heritage of the Sikhs. Sri Guru Granth Sahib, after its compilation, was first installed here at Sri Harimandir Sahib on August 16th, 1604 A.D. Built at a level lower than the surrounding land level, the Gurudwara teaches the lesson of egalitarianism and humanity. The four entrances of this holy shrine from all four directions signify that people belonging to any cast, creed, race, seeking solace, are equally welcome.

 I have been to this place earlier as well, but this adventure journey was remarkably different from the earlier one. The helpers prominently knew we were two helpless tourists and needed guidance to explore. One sevak uncle appeared out of nowhere, and directed us the way to have some tea. The helper serving tea wanted us to have a full cup instead of half. The gestures in underlying tones everywhere kept hinting - it is love and humanity that makes the world go round. Another helper directed us the way to langar.  A school-going young sevak saw us, and accompanied us till we called it a day in the golden attraction. He made sure we ate well, did not take, instead snatched away our plates and kept them in the washing section (while snatching away the empty plates, he said, "Aap meri didi ho na, fir dedo bartan warna gusse ho jaoonga"). He then took us to the chambers where roti making machineries were installed. The sight was so beautiful, different sections of men and women doing various "seva" like serving food and water, serving tea, applying ghee on rotis, washing dishes and a lot more. It was  breathtakingly wonderful! A beautful sight beyond the dotcom, mankind selflessly serving mankind.

Wanting to stay back here for a longer duration, we made our way back to the station. The old humble good-hearted rickshawala waited patiently for us to be back, and seemed genuinely happy that we could visit Babaji! 5:05PM at the station, the train to Pathankot was beaming at us on platform number 1, when we realised we also needed a ticket to get in! IRCTC app ditched us like it ditches the whole wide nation on and off. The ladies' queue, and all other queues for that matter were larger than the normal large! We thought of going to the counter and crying, but in vain. The ladies, who were anyway abusing each other at 120 decibels, began hurling abuses at us too, for breaking the queue. We requested the people in front to buy us tickets, but the expedition miserably seemed to fail. Hiring a cab was the next option, but none of us would get the permission from home - A, and B - we were scared to goto Pathankot in the cab at night. It was ten minutes for the train to start, when the guards suggested us to board the train and be comfortable! "Nothing will happen, just get in!", they assured us. We ran towards the train dragging our luggage full of wedding and trekking attires, passing boggie by boggie, not finding a sane one. Giving up hope on the overcrowded train, we barged into the second last coach, and stood there on the entrance, even though we could not see a space to breathe enough. The world ain't that bad, they say. There came three sane looking guys in an insane train, who helped us keep the luggage up, and offered us their seats, choosing to stand themselves. We sat with a 500Rs note in our hands, expecting to negotiate with the TT, only to realize that it was a passenger train and the tickets would have costed us Rs25 each! Whoa! This was too funny to be true. There wasn't a sign of the TT, not till eternity.  A couple in the coach began a candid conversation with us, and also offered their tickets to us just in case there was a checking at the main exit! Infact, they accompanied us till the exit and guided the driver with the directions, in their local dialect, who was to come pick us up. The world appeared wonderful!

Utsav Resorts, it was!

The cocktail were to begin when we hurriedly met the rest of our gang and went on to live on crocin and disprin. Ria looked stunning, danced like a diva and yelled at us like a, you know what! ;)
Catching onto some sleep helped us a great deal, the next day. Next morning was all about haldi, a lot of photo-sessions, photo-bombings, and fere. Each time a picture had to be clicked, a photogenic Sonia made sure she placed herself in the middle of the group! :) The cheesy pictures came out extremely well, the props were a delight to cling onto during the entire click click session! By then, Chhavi had arrived too. Rita kept surprising us by being always, (and I mean always) on time and looking lovelier than lovely. The day passed in a jiffy, one dress after the other, one ceremony after the other, dawn embraced dusk within the wink of an eye!

The decoration was lovely, the arrangements were all in place. Ria had worked day in and day out on the knitty gritties of the entire occasion. All worth! The next day, after the bride bade bye-bye kisses to the whole lot, we hired our car and headed towards a quaint little town, McLeodGanj via Dharamsala. The good-natured adorable Rita wasn't joining us, and we bade her goodbye too. McLeodganj is a picture of rural and rustic beauty, packed in one. Woohooo! The much awaited venture began. Sonia, the gorgeous damsel, was already coughing, and my favorite Kajal got a soar throat too. An energetic bubbly Anusha was full on charged with her rayban on, and a tired sweet Chhavi took the

backseat to catch up a power nap.  So many adjectives, I know! :P McLeodGanj streets were beautiful, luring us to shop the Tibetan artifacts and handicrafts :P We made our way to the Bhagsu waterfalls, clicking about three and a half million pictures on the way to and fro. The water was freezing cold, the mid way steaming hot maggie was more than a delight to devour! The cafes on the streets of McLeodganj were a little wonderland in themselves. The sight of the white Dauladhar ranges from the cafe windows was picturesque! About 5PM, it started getting dark and we realized we are yet to book a hotel! This reminds me of all the hangout video meetings we had had before the trip, to finalize places, commutation and stay! But ended up with zero  bookings. Anusha and Chhavi took the responsibility on their fragile little shoulders, and went out of the cafe to take a look at the hotels they had shortlisted online. I made my way out to a nearby Namgyal Monastery with a sneezing cute Sonia and an ever joyful badmash Kajal.  It was first established by the III Dalai Lama in 1575 in Tibet, and was relocated to Dharamshala following the Tibetan uprising in 1959.
 Needless to say, the monastery was beautiful, with a huge golden Buddha statue, and the typical circular chimes. We then hurried our way into a hotel nearby, Asian Crown, on the main street chauraha. After freshening up and having dinner, we again went down to stroll the beautiful streets to have tea, far away from the cacophony of our busy lives. Life was so peaceful there. Back to the hotel at about 10:45PM, it was decided that we would stay in one of the two rooms and chit chat for a while before sleeping. Dead tired as we were, I knew what was happening. 12 midnight, these lovely girls presented a lovely cake, purchased from the nearby bakery. Happy birthday to me was the agenda, and I would thank them forever for the gesture; for keeping awake even after a dead tiring day, when they were not even well.  This is what friends do, trouble the birthday girl, ruin her beauty sleep, but with such everlasting impact and gestures! This was big for me, thank you girls, each one of you is a sweetheart!

Next day was about visiting the Illiterati Cafe, a strong recommendation from one of our friends. Trust me, this place is worth visiting. From the balcony where you could settle and have your kahwa forever, you would marvel at the sight of people paragliding like colorful birds in the sky. They also had a little dog whom they had named "Bhaisaab"! That tiny little creature refused to budge from the balcony we were seated in. Next venture was the Dalai Lama Temple, another monastery with beautiful golden statues, scriptures inscribed, chimes and the monks offering prayers. Something was common in these monasteries that caught our eye. The offerings were full of chocolates and bakery material.
Huge stacks of lotto choco pie, real fruit juices, imported chocolates, and canned cheesy spreads were offered in huge numbers. The teachings revolved around compassion, reincarnation, middle-way approach and world peace. The museum screamed about an unsung brutal story of the invasion of Tibet by China. The scripts narrated the tale of the Dalai Lama,
and how China made attempts to eradicate their culture, how India gave them shelter, and how many of their men and women gave up their life for justice. The scripts detailing their atrocities gave us goosebumps. Sad picture! Gathering our spirits back, we then had to head to Bir to keep our luggage in the hotel, and goto Billing for the next day early morning paragliding.  Known as the "Paragliding captial of India", the towns of Bir and Billing in Kangra district are extremely popular places for adventure sport. Bir is the take off site while Billing is the landing spot. Bir is situated 35 km from Palampur, while Billing is situated 14 km from Bir. On the way, we passed by the Dal Lake, which is not at all a tourist attraction and should totally not be visited. Never! There also is a sunset point nearby, where we took another million pictures, the best part of being a girl!

"Please give me five more minutes with the Sun" pleaded a dramatic Kajal, after which she had to be dragged back to the car. Anusha apparently had a selfie stick, which played our close friend and led us to the utmost realization that selfie sticks should not be associated with psychopaths! Good thing it is! It was dark when we reached Bir, in colenell's SagarMath. Paragliding is the order of the day in Bir-Billing. It is one of the top ten destinations in the world! After making several calls to various vendors and negotiating for prices, we called Col. Neeraj Rana for our perusal. Though the charges were slightly high, this army gentleman had the most convincing and confident voice for the impending venture we were to undertake. He said if anything goes wrong, ("God forbid"), you guys could sue me. He also asked us to check the certificates, and if the other vendors had a reserved parachute, just in case the glider malfunctions. Shockingly, 60% of them did not have it. The deal was done with Mr. Rana, anticipating the rejuvenating sojourn towards Billing next morning. The next early morning, Col. Rana came to the hotel to brief us with the technique, the dos and donts, and his pilots came from Billing to Bir to pick us up. Butterflies in the stomach! The journey rained the unmatchable view of the Dhauladhar ranges on us. The paragliding sight in Billing was delightful.

About 11 AM, the pilots helped us put on the harnesses. The sight had a large number of people, solo gliders and tandem gliders. My glider was laid first without my knowledge, and as soon as my pilot called me, I claimed to back out like a trained loser and go back. His convincing skills to "go first" and "we will not die" were in complete vain, as I was almost in tears. He had to remove my glider with a heavy heart. Before we could decide on the bravo who would go first, who would have been the champ Anusha, Sonia's glider was spread. Sonia cried only one fifth of the amount I had cried about not going first, and then went on to be the first one, obviously the proud one.

What if I fall? What if I fall? Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?  One by one, we all were in the air. The sight and the experience were beyond description. The movements were almost poetic, a perfect blend of an extreme sport with the grace of mother nature. The acrobatics involved wing-over and 360 degree rotation, and I could swear, every minute in the air was worth it. It was easy, it was worth it! The pilots wait for the wind to make the glider go in the air, and all that is needed is three four steps to bid goodbye to the land beneath your feet.


Early morning is not the best time, as the thermal currents haven't taken over, and the glider requires more effort to move high up. You take off in Billing, and land in Bir in about twenty minutes. The landing was smooth for all of us, and the pride, phenomenal! After collecting the pictures and videos from the army camp and greeting thank yous to Col. Rana, we darted our ways towards Garden Cafe to have lunch.

This was another recommendation, and turned out to be a cozy little cafe again. Cheese laden cuisines and ginger lemon honey tea everywhere and every time had made our trip worthwhile. Sonia had gotten really sick in the journey, but had been managing. After paragliding, her illness bade her goodbye, and she was transformed into a super star. Anusha wasn't keeping well either, puking here and there with motion sickness. The James Bond of a Kajal too, was falling sick on and off, but would become okay with mere one tablet, and with claims! After finishing lunch, we went onto see an embellished Sherabling Monastery in Bir. This was a huge one, with a beautiful hall comprising an ornated Buddha statue. It had quarters to accommodate five hundred monks, three shrine halls, six shrine rooms and all of the traditional and modern monastic features.

Chhavi had to catch her train to Delhi at 8:50PM from Pathankot, and we had our trains to Delhi later in the night about 11PM. We were running late back to Pathankot after spending leisure hours in Garden Cafe and Sherabling Monastery. We kept telling Chhavi, even if the train is missed, it wouldn't be a deal if you just get in our train. After the Amritsar-Pathankot travel, our confidence to travel without tickets has hiked up to skyhigh :D The driver was under pressure, as if some deployment would explode and a million dollar deal would slip onto another competitor. He was slowly accelerating in the hilly landscapes as much as possible. A tensed Chhavi wore a gloomy expression and all of us kept consoling her about how beautiful life is, and it is okay to miss a train. 8:45PM, and trust me 8:45PM it was, when we reached the station. Anusha escorted Chhavi inside and a caring concerned Sonia ran recklessly behind them for the see off. Two more minutes and a phone call from Sonia says the train was late and had just arrived. Kajal and I rushed to get the platform ticket, only to realize Chhavi was playing the Simran of DDLJ to catch her coach, and Anusha supporting her morally in the marathon all the way long till the last coach. And Simran got into the train finally! We then had dinner in a nearby hotel and came back to the station to board our trains to the smog covered, eye burning, calamity struck Delhi. Bon Voyage! Beautiful place and wonderful friends, a journey so worthwhile!

Himachal, a must-go place!

God's own, they say !

Settled comfortably in the slopes of Western Ghats, Kerala has been one of the most enchanting travel destination for travel freaks. The last thing you would expect from Kerala is to be a tropical paradise, and it truely is!

The beautiful backwaters of Kerala are a complicated labyrinth of canals, rivers, lakes and inlets where sea water and freshwater meet each other. Houseboats were traditionally used to transport harvested rice from the backwaters, but today they are mostly used for tourism. You get to choose from over 2000 houseboats roaming the canals. However, the best way to wander in those canals is by a kayak, since huge houseboats cannot sail amidst smaller canals where you get to see the wildlife and locals going around with their daily activities.

The water-ride in the Cochin Port is another cookie in the basket . It is a major port on the Arabian Sea – Indian Ocean sea route. It was naturally formed by the great floods of Periyar. In the same ride, they give you a quick tour of Paradesi Synagogue and describe the Jewish practices, and their discipline -

just a nice different experience. You would also get to see from a little distance (at the entrance of the harbour), gigantic Chinese fishing nets operated by huge machines to earn a livelihood, solely by fishing. The Dutch Palace falls in your plate next, built by the Portugese. It was given to Raja Varma later. Followed by the Dutch Palace is St. Francis Church, built originally by the Portuguese; believed to be the first church built by Europeans in India. Vasco da Gama was originally buried here.You would also see innumerable big and small ships (containers and cruise vessels) taking goods/passengers to places far and wide.

Munnar, well known for its verdant hills draped in exotic tea plantations will take your breath away. A hundred of pages would be less to scribble the experience in this wonder-land.
Those fleeting few grey moments, suspended between inky blackness and early morning light, provide the most drama at times. Like they did one early morning, when we peeped out into the balcony, just to soak in the spectacular scene unfolding in front of us. The sky was still a dark purple, the silhouette of the mighty tea plantations looming large in the distance. Behind the ever-lasting greens, the dark purple subtly embraced the tinged pinkish-orange, even as the horizon appeared clear and cloudless.

We watched in awe as the pinkish orange turned into surreal gold, as the sun rose from behind the lush green dewy hills - a disc of deep crimson. I thought of the drawings I had done during art classes in primary school. But this was for real ! Just a few minutes, and the sun was over and above the hills, drenching everything in crisp bright light. We stood spellbound, cold notwithstanding.  The first rays also served for the birds to shake off their chirping and myriad calls; just the background score that this breath-taking sight needed.

As the morning wore on, we ventured out along narrow, winding roads up the hills, flanked for the most part, by deep gorges on one side and towering hills on the other. Occasionally, the dense foliage cleared to reveal a hamlet on either side. A walk to remember!

Getting drenched in the monsoon rain, sipping a steaming hot cup of ginger tea, feeling the raindrops on your palm amidst such marvellous picturesque paradise, is a unique experience of its own kind. Far far away from the noisy, dawn to dusk hustle bustle of our daily routines, the glorius sound of silence would provide you a perfect "me time"! .

Do not miss a luxuriant and easy way to achieve an instant calm and rejuvination with the most divine ancient Ayurvedic ritual  - Shirodhara. Practiced for more than 5000 years, Shirodhara oil treatment is based on ancient principles of Ayurvedic medicine. Translated from Sanskrit as a holistic healing Science, Ayurveda aims to harmonize the body, mind, senses and soul. Ayurveda may be an ancient Indian therapy, but its appeal is thoroughly modern. This holistic system of diet, herbal remedies and massage has become popular with thousands of celebrities, spa-goers and harried workers who wish to regain a balanced and healthy life. While you go on to choose one, make sure the ambience is worthwhile and the equipments do not need refilling and restarting, creating unnecessary bomb-blast sounds that would end up damaging the entire bliss.

I could go on writing about this little heaven on earth; I could go on visiting it year after year! God's own, they say!

Letter from an Empath!

While I love to help others, I'm not responsible for fixing your life or catering to your toxicity. I'm not responsible for managing your triggers, walking on eggshells or telling you what you want to hear in order to keep the peace. I am not your emotional punching bag, nor am I your emotional sponge. I do not exist for your pleasure or as a site for your projected pain. My responsibility is to myself - to be my own person and stay true to myself; to heal my own wounds, manage my own triggers, and engage in self-care so that I can give to others authentically without depleting myself in the process. My responsibility is to maintain healthy boundaries, especially with those who are unhealthy.

If I Should Have a Daughter

When Sarah Kay herself narrated this one !

Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”

She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.

And “Baby,” I’ll tell her “don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”

But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boats nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.

I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind. Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this, “There’ll be days like this my momma said” when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you,” ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.

You will put the “wind” in win some lose some, you will put the “star” in starting over and over, and no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.

And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting I am pretty damn naive but I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

“Baby,” I’ll tell her “remember your mama is a worrier but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.”

Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.

Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.

http://ohsarahkay.tumblr.com/b

Change in co - ordinates !

It was the summer of 2015. With immense anticipation of dwelling in various places and understanding their cultures, little did I know when it would really happen this time, my heart would be filled with an invincible void.

End of Bangalore chapter. The new venture seemed so irresistable, so exciting, but what I was leaving behind was an integral part of my own. Seven long years. I have a zillion experiences - to moon and back. I stepped in this land as a little girl right out of grad school, when Sasken happened to me. Ten girls in a batch of forty, nine were from the Southern part of India. This was a good thing I later realized. I cribbed some days about the change in food, arguing that rasam is not an edible thing, it is a synonym for a 'custom' and how on earth could people differentiate between rasam and sambhar, if at all. Not knowing curd could ever be eaten with rice, not knowing sambhar could be eaten everyday, just as daal. My friends were adorable. Patient. They were friends - they took nothing to their hearts. That was when I fell for this land. Their simplicity permeated my soul, and left me spellbound.  And I fell in love with the food here. I ate curd rice and admired it in front of them. And in fact I liked it. Winning the hearts of the world around me was more important, and curd rice ain't bad anyway! Everyone had a story to narrate, and I was no way letting curd rice or rasam draw lines between us. Distances, cultures and food are never a hindrance, as long as you could configure your brain that way. We are inherently programmed to feel superior about our own culture. But the boundaries remain undefined. They begin with the neighborhood house in your hometown, and extend to your neighborhood cities, states and then to the nations across. The next door aunt in your hometown has a completely different way (and taste) of cooking any cuisine you could probably think of, how on earth would the cook in a different state be inline with your choices. The expectation itself was irrational. The Bangalorean friends used to invite us on various occasions and their mums used to treat us with such love and hospitality, I wish I could explain. They used to give us flowers on departures. I failed to see guile in their eyes, what I saw was a world beyond the world-wide-web, and I fell for the place again, I re-iterate! Kannadigas are the nicest people I have ever met, I still mention it somedays. From induction trainings to picnics, we were bonded together, forever. We played TT for hours together in Sasken and darted back to our cubicles when the HRs grumbled at us. We grew, we evolved, marched the streets of Bangalore, changed workplaces, met new people, made new friends, studied hard, teased each other harder, learnt to manage time. Time flew. I learnt to take a closer look at the world. I learnt to discern - when to connect, when to disconnect, how much and with whom, when to be noisy, when to be silent. In my stay here for the first five years, I met girls of almost all kinds. All kinds. Good, so good, bad, whatt, ohmygod. All kinds. Such lifestyles in this big bustling city. And I learnt not to make an awe face at their tantalizing ideas, I learnt not to explode.

I learnt the technology I once coveted for, burnt my hands treading the path, but I wasn't complaining. My discretion threatened to abandon me, got me thinking if all my definitions were miserably incorrect. I brimmed with annoyance and marveled at my own capacity to be patient, dismissed the ideas of holding on, made mistakes, fought, laughed, giggled, punched, fell down, got up, ate, sang, wore nail colors, took pictures. I have had my share of sorrow and joy. I evolved. I did. And the wise men consistently encouraged me. Then one day, Qualcomm happened to me. Needless to say, the ecstatic scream of joy that followed next, is difficult to be framed in words. But then, this was a tough decision. There were a few more doors open. One in Gurgaon, close to my hometown and others in Bangalore itself. It took me some good time to decide that the co-ordinates must be changed. Change is the order of the day. Change is inevitable. And blah blah blah. But true. So damn true.

It was decided. Signed. But my mind refused to conceive the idea of moving the entire paraphernalia to a new city altogether. I had people in Hyderabad - relatives and friends. My own. Very own. I would get to dwell in a new city, see new people, visit new roads. Good thing. My mind knew it, wanted it, but refused to synchronize. I kept telling people I know not where I would finally join. They thought I were concealing. There were friends who refused to believe either. Pratibha wasn't around. She was in the UK for business needs, and kept calling every night, night after night, after knowing we would soon part. Love her for who she is. Sony almost got angry at me. Revisiting the times we had spent together, and with Geetha and Rashmi, it was an awful idea to part. We marveled at those evenings when we booked the badminton courts after office hours, went for swimming, or I should call it floating instead ! Those early morning get-up get-up calls for the aerobics classes and later devouring aaloo parathas with a teaspoon of butter! No, with a tablespoon of butter. Rashmi had left a couple of months ago, and there was already a void. We used to miss her this that !@#$%^ :) Sony stayed right next to my house. My dinners were arranged at her house ever since she became aware of the new co-ordinates. We remembered the endless hilarious conversations revolving around sentiyapadotcom in our night walks in the colony. Despite the ridiculous fact that she has spilled buckets of tea on my bedsheets and has blamed me each time SHE did it, and has crossed all defined limits of keeping her feet on my washed bundle of clothes kept on the bed over and over again, I find myself missing her. (After she has read this statement, my inbox will overflow with encrypted abuses). Thank you sweety, you have been a part of me. Geetha is a different kind. Lovable as she is, you could ask her for any help any time. She remains grounded both in the highs and lows (and doesn't comprehend jokes). Spectacular trait ! Jasneet was a little shocked too, and so was Vani. Vani is a pure soul. Respect. Selfless. I so admire her for who she is. Jasneet knew the whole of it when it was not even finalized, but when it happened, she groaned at the idea. She has her own ways of doing things, her own mood swings. She made collages and posted pictures in public as a token of remembrance. This was her platinum chance to put the pictures in which she looked good even if I looked like a UFO :D I told her I looked ugly, but in vain ! All this followed by a beautifully camouflaged dramatization. But the beatings evaded her :) I thought I could gift wrap her and take her with me. So sweet, my heart was almost sinking with all of these gestures from these partners in crime. A friend asked me to goto hell for taking such a decision and another one hanged the phone. My college friends here poured gallons of apnapan, as if I was going to another galaxy. I couldn't catch up with them though :( There were more episodes. I wanted to stay back. But I also wanted to move on. Move on to walk the new roads.

Sasken, LG, Radisys. From protocol stacks to mobile applications and back. It was so tough, it was tiring. But I have in my basket some extremely good features on a cutting edge technology. It was tough, but it was worth. Yes I think it was worth. It was a hot chocolate cake. It wasn't easy to work on the difficult side of things while doing MS (and doing good in MS) , but the difficult me kept asking for difficult things. There were easy cakes available, available with wine, and I was asked if I wanted one of those, but that did little to deter my single minded love for picking the tricky one. I am glad I did. And did it decent. And got nine plus grades is MS too. I used to tuck into my bed real late; and would remember those sleepless nights for long - doing assignments, reading MS lessons and pitching myself to rummage around the internet - walking through the transmission modes, DCI formats and RA types, MCS and RB allocation nuances, CQI and SINRs, transport blocks and codewords, new transmissions and re-transmissions. It was all so good. The HR director spoke good things while I bade her adieu. They do on farewell notes. 'I want to see you flying very high. Your place isn't here on the ground.' I was amused, and after about 5 seconds, I was no more amused. She wasn't either. I kept myself intact. But I was again amused later :D

I stay in Hyderabad now. The social networks have their own set of advantages (and disadvantages). Friends in Bangalore starting messaging cheesecakes, and friends in Hyderabad extended generous helping hands. A school friend of mine appeared from nowhere, and was a great great help. Adorable! Another school friend is coming back soon. School friends (and let me also mention college friends, lest they abuse me) are like your own family - every one knew everyone's parents, siblings, percentages, crushes, favorite food, everything. You talk after like eleven twelve years, and it is still okay to talk shit. And have that respected. You give and take advices, wrapped with thick coats of authority. Human nature ! I am infact looking forward to their company and conversations. And the new work place is full of known faces, as if nothing much has changed. The world is a small place. A beautiful place. The new roads look good. I'm so sure they'll blossom. The grey skies in Bangalore promised showers, but the moonlight here looks good too ! I'm still settling down, still on the high.Variety is the very spice of life, that gives it all its flavor !

The scourge of racism !

Here is a very beautiful article penned by Ravi Zacharias, instilling values and transcending generations.

The news has been abuzz with the pathetic racist comments by the owner of the Los Angeles Clippers, Donald Sterling.  His prejudice has cost him not just in monetary terms but also the privilege of ownership in the world of sports.  It will be left now to the lawyers to fight it out, settle and walk away with probably more than it would have cost him to pay off the blackmailer.  We live in a strange world of dollars and nonsense.
What a tragedy that a man of his stature and wealth not only believes such things but verbalized them, making matters worse by voicing them in front of those whose only interest in him was his stature and his wealth.  Prejudice and bigotry is a cancer within and when the wound is opened, it is even more deadly because the “physicians” who expose the cancer want it to be terminal.
I come from a land where there were and are equally such prejudices.  Those from the north of India tend to have lighter complexions and different habits to those from the south.  I hail from the south of India but was raised in the north.  On more than one occasion I remember as a youngster being derided because I was from the south with words that don’t belong in respectable articles.  But even now, as I travel back there often, I see bumper stickers on rickshaw drivers that are shocking, including pronouncing curses upon people who “look” upon them the wrong way.  I thought of quoting at least one of them here but they are frankly so crass that I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  I have, though, translated them for friends when we see one in front of us, and they are aghast.
I look at such a man driving an auto-rickshaw for a living, sun-burnt himself but pronouncing curses upon others because of their complexion.  I pity him.  I pity him because he is uninformed, uneducated, socially marginalized, weak in his thinking capacity, and apparently the only way he can flex any muscle is by cursing others.  He can almost be pardoned because he lives in a dark world with no light to help him see any better.  He is inherently weak and the bumper stickers are his only strength.
But a billionaire with all the knowledge of hate from the past and the need to look towards a future of civility and law, and yes, love for our fellow human beings…how did he get trapped in a dungeon of prejudice?  Incomprehensible!  Except when we put the human heart under a microscope can we see why.  I remember once talking to the famed Joe Gibbs when he moved from being the iconic coach of an NFL team to owning a NASCAR team.  I asked him how he made the switch from one sport to another one so drastically different in the skills needed.  His answer was quite instructive.  “They both have one thing in common—the depravity of man,” he said.

He was right.  Right from the beginning of creation, hate and segregation came into the first family.  A brother hating his brother.  Why?  Because he seemed more sensitive to God.  Imagine that!  You see, hate and eviction come not just because of race.  They can come because of race or place or face or grace.  Racism is not just a white versus black issue.  We make a cardinal mistake pitting two colors against each other.  Go to Asia and see the regional hate and discrimination, the religious hate and discrimination, the social/economic hate and discrimination.  It is ultimately the passion that seeks to bring down somebody else and justifies its self-superiority by finding a reason to do just that.
This very week, an African American politician referred to Justice Clarence Thomas as an “Uncle Tom.”  When a news reporter questioned this characterization, his justification for using it was his race. I respectfully disagree.  Few abuses of the soul are more dangerous than those that legitimize hate by grabbing a twig of history and thinking they have grasped the root of revenge. You do not right a terrible wrong with an insatiable spirit of perpetuating vengeance.  So he was dead wrong.
I remember being in Sidon, Lebanon, some years ago.  I was introduced to a man who had a daily habit.  Every day he would take his little boy up a hill.  He would point over the border and tell his son, “Your duty in life is to kill as many of them on the other side as you can.”  I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. He could never shut the gate on the past and so dragged the carcass of historical prejudice and draped that corpse over the shoulders of the next generation as a reminder to continue the carnage.  What chance for peace does a young boy like that have?  He will grow up killing and slaughtering, all the while thinking that he is solving history’s problem.  He isn’t.  He is adding to it.  The logic of hate and unforgiveness perpetuates a lie and will destroy the possessor more than it destroys the victim.
Donald Sterling needs help.  Being fined and banned from the NBA is not the biggest price he’s paid.  The biggest price he has paid is within his own soul that thinks he is superior to other human beings.  That lie has eternal consequences. Color is no respecter of such inner deceptions.
I have one more thing to say on this.  The same media that despises and castigates and vilifies Donald Sterling because of his prejudice is the very media that bullied and mocked Tim Tebow because of his faith in God.  They are the Cains of the day who despise Abel. They doggedly derided Tebow and may have cost him his career because of their relentless prejudice.  How ironic.  They cling to a vicious bigotry of their own, which belies their sanctimonious pronouncements that castigate others. That is the masquerade that relativism continues to play, not realizing that hypocrisy is the unwitting compliment vice pays to virtue.  Our present political climate has thrived on hate.  The short-term gains are long-term losses for our country.  We have lived morally and spiritually the same way we have lived fiscally.  But the moral cliff is more perilous than the fiscal cliff because producing moral currency requires having truth on its side—not just a printing press.

So it is that we must ask the question, what kind of future do we want?  Do we want one where we penalize those that are prejudiced while retaining a selective sovereignty over our own prejudices? Or do we want a future where our children can learn to live and let live with civility, and remind ourselves that the love of God must be the impetus that drives us to love our neighbor and that the real scourge of a sinful heart must drive us to submit to the Savior.  Only in that forgiveness is there hope and the promise of a better day.  Banning Sterling from the NBA is putting a Band-Aid on a shattered bone.  The solution may work well for the cosmetic side of the game, but life is bigger than a game.
I find it ironic that as Jesus headed to the cross and was quizzed by Pontius Pilate, Pilate pitted every major prejudice the human heart exploits against Jesus: political, ethnic, and religious.  Is it any wonder that though Pilate asked the question “What is truth,” he never waited for the answer?  The truth was discomfiting to him, as it is in our time.  The truth is that Sterling needs a Savior, as we all do.  And so do all those who sit in judgment over him while being themselves the possessors of prejudice against the sacred.  In heaven, every race and tongue and tribe is seen in their beauty and splendor because we will see them through God’s eyes.
 

It was quite a plan !

 This is one of the many popular reads available all over the web and now seems to be floating in whatsapp. I so wanted to have it here, have it here forever. It no more disturbs me, but gets me thinking each time I re-read it !

 Satan called a worldwide convention of demons. In his opening address he
 said, "We can't keep the believers from receiving the Sunday messages. We can't keep them from reading the Gospel and knowing the truth. We can't even keep them from forming an intimate relationship with their Saviour. Once they gain that connection with Him, our power over them is broken."
 "So let them go to their churches; let them have their covered dish dinners,
 conservative lifestyles, but steal their time, so they don't have time to develop a
 relationship with the Creator."

 "This is what I want you to do", said the devil:
 "Distract them from gaining hold of their Saviour and maintaining that vital
 connection throughout their day!" "How shall we do this?" his demons
 shouted.

 "Keep them busy in the nonessentials of life and invent innumerable schemes to occupy their minds," he answered.
 "Tempt them to spend, spend, spend, and borrow, borrow, borrow."
 "Persuade the wives to go to work for long hours and the husbands to work  6-7 days each week, 10-12 hours a day, so they can afford their empty lifestyles."

 "Keep them from spending time with their children. As their families fragment, soon, their homes will offer no escape from the pressures of work!"

 "Over-stimulate their minds so that they cannot hear that still, small
 voice. Entice them to play the radio or cassette player whenever they
 drive. To keep the TV, VCR, CDs and their PCs going constantly in their
 home and see to it that every store and restaurant in the world plays
 non-biblical music constantly. This will jam their minds and break that
 powerful union with God."

"Fill the coffee tables with magazines and newspapers. Pound their minds
 with the news 24 hours a day. Invade their driving moments with billboards.
 Flood their mailboxes with junk mail, mail order catalogues, sweepstakes,
 and every kind of newsletter and promotional offering free products,
 services and false hopes."

 "Keep skinny, beautiful models on the magazines and TV so their husbands will believe that outward beauty is what's important, and they'll become dissatisfied with their wives. Keep the wives too tired to love their husbands at night. Give them headaches too! If they don't give their husbands the love they need, they will begin to look elsewhere. That will fragment their families quickly!"

 "Give them Santa Claus to distract them from teaching their children the real meaning of Christmas. Give them an Easter bunny so they won't talk about his resurrection and power over sin and death."
 "Even in their recreation, let them be excessive. Have them return from their recreation exhausted. Keep them too busy to go out in nature and reflect on God's creation. Send them to amusement parks, sporting events, plays, concerts, and movies instead. Keep them busy, busy, busy!"

 "And when they meet for spiritual fellowship, involve them in gossip and small talk so that they leave with troubled consciences."
 "Crowd their lives with so many good causes they have no time to seek power
 from Jesus. Soon they will be working in their own strength, sacrificing
 their health and family for the good of the cause.
 It will work! It will work!"

 It was quite a plan! The demons went eagerly to their assignments causing
 believers everywhere to get more busy and more rushed, going here and
 there. Having little time for their God or their families. Having no time
 to tell others about the power of Jesus to change lives. I guess the
 question is, has the devil been successful at his scheme?

 You be the judge! Does "busy" mean:
 B-eing
 U-nder
 S-atan's
 Y-oke?