Play Zone

            I got an opportunity to visit my village, my native place. I was going there after a long time. Thanks to the development, the journey began smoother and quicker. Travelling in a train, I was also travelling back in time to the fond memories of my childhood. We, i.e. my parents and my sisters would come to the village during our summer and winter breaks. We all looked forward for it. It was a culture that every one flocked to these small tiny hamlets and each of the household boasted of “chakarmanies”. I don’t know what the men did , but the ladies became part of the cooking and cleaning machinery which ran throughout the day, which included non stop ferrying of water from the nearby well. The children especially the boys had a great time. Off the hook, no studies, no nagging and vast space to disappear. Fruit laden trees of mangoes, cashews, jackfruit provided much more than shelter in the blazing sun The open fields would turn into cricket grounds and everyone from Mumbai was no less than Sachin and was treated with respect and adulation.

The matches were no less than the world cup matches, fiercely competed. Each year some new fast bowler or a big hitter would make his debut and make his presence felt. The ground was a huge one and it appeared endless to all of us who came from Mumbai. It was outside the village and along side the main road and a foot track. Eventually at critical junctures the spectator strength would swell up and the cheers would get louder and boisterous. There was a huge mango tree at far end of the ground touching the eastern boundary of the field. It was our pavilion. The cool shade of the tree and the mild breeze kept the next batsman cool and lot of fruit for snacks and quick bites. The batsmen getting out early never sat in the dugouts biting nails but were prompt to pick up a bicycle on rent and would do rounds along the boundary of the field. There wasn’t any dull moment and apart from the action on the field, expert comments, cars, bikes and a plethora or hot topics kept everyone’s interest alive.

            Thanks to the new railway line, the journey back to the past was smooth in the ac compartment. I wanted to go back to the small hamlet, pure and untouched by the pollution of the cities. Wanted to be in the trees and the open fields and dissolve myself in the nostalgic moments. Wanted to pluck the wild berries, may be try and attempt to climb the easiest tree. Wanted to breathe pure oxygen.

            Early morning the train eased into the station. I was eager to catch on the morning freshness and the sweet smell of the mango “mohur”. The auto rickshaws had replaced the bullock carts and the red dusty roads wore a fresh look with a shiny black tar with white markings. The tiny hamlet had outgrown in to a small town. School vans and pickups were busy in the morning hurrying towards their destinations. That of the burnt diesel replaced the smell of the morning dust.  What a fool I was that I was expecting to go back to the same hamlet that I left years back.

            Good roads and new buildings were giving a fresh look. I was enjoying the stroll. I wanted to avoid the afternoon sun and my fond memories of the yester years were moving me. The small temple had grown in to a much bigger one, the tiny shops replaced by the big ones and the development was visible. I moved towards the playground, the place where we spent our vacations. My steps quickened as if some beautiful damsel was awaiting me with open arms and I wanted to melt in her arms and travel back to the golden past.   I was restless as there wasn’t any ground in sight and I had to navigate myself from the fresh concrete jungle. I started feeling something amiss as I neared the hills cross the village. When I reached the far end, I realised that the concrete jungle had eaten up the beautiful ground. My heart broke as my memories of past lay buried beneath the concrete.  The playful shouting and the cheers were lost forever. The mango tree, which looked tall and beautiful, vanished in the clutter.

            Nothing comes free. Development has its price too. For me it were just memories but for someone else that piece of land was gold. Never ever will there be any laughter heard, nor will the cheers resonate from the hills. But who cares. The so-called new development erased out the play zones from the lives of the new generation and caused an irreparable damage. May we wake up soon before its too late.

the fight

         

 Survival of the fittest is the key mantra in this universe. Fitness doesn't get confined to only the physical domain but is more important in the intellectual levels and of utmost importance in the spiritual domain. The battle of David and Goliath had a huge gap in strengths at physical level, but the spirit of David surmounted the physical strength of Goliath.
          Each one of us face Goliath's in our day to day life. Avoidance, acceptance and many such words comfort us when we don't gather the courage to take on the Goliath.
          A huge hall was being done up and the false roof was fixed. We were supposed to be working in that hall fall a month. Since the very first day a couple of pigeons used to enter the hall and reach a particular corner and try to bang against the roof tile with there beaks, as if try to push open. They used to take turns in an attempt to dislodge the roof tile. Though a disturbance in the office work, they amused us and surprised us by their sheer courage and determination. I think it was the third day, I saw the tile dislodged and they found a way inside the roof and we all heard the happy chirps in the roof.
         At times we are also forced to take on the fight. Fight for our survival, fight for the honour and dignity, fight for a cause we believe in. Because if we don't fight, we don't survive. We are dead even before declared clinically. The enemy will always appear strong and powerful and the environment will add more weight and create a monster for you. But no monster has ever survived. The enemy could be your illness, your boss at work, your neighbour, could be a land mafia, a goon who disturbs you and the most important the one you create in your mind. Rest all can be neutralised, less the enemy in your mind, who will rob you of your sleep and mental peace. So never feed this enemy to make it too big to take on.
         Each war has many battles. you may win some, you may loose some. But the ultimate winner is the one who wins the last battle. At times one may feel tired and fatigued after few battles and the mind may start playing games telling you “its enough now, you cant “, “ don't get too emotionally attached” and things like that. Hang on, if you want to win. If you are tired, so is your enemy. It is the time when the inner energy shows up in terms determination, resolve and commitment. Try, try, try and you will succeed. The fight is your own. You are fighting it for yourself. Never loose focus.
          The opponent may be stronger than you physically, but the mental and spiritual strength needs no space. An ant can have more courage than an elephant. Strengthen yourself in all the three domains and don't get overawed by the opponent’s physical strength. The moment you raise the inner strength level, you have won your first battle. Its then the minor losses wont hurt you and will remain cool and undisturbed when you are required to act decisively.
          Lastly, its your battle so you be the one who decides the last battle.
                                         Good Luck

Soni ka Dhaba

The Himalayas are beautiful, enchanting, romantic and always inviting. The Dussera holidays opened a window of opportunity to venture into the beautiful folds of the ever-inviting mountains. The hill stations are not too far from the plains and the drive to them is mesmerising. The zigzag roads, though challenging for a driver, but opens a new canvas at each turn. One actually drives back in time. From the busy schedules with tight time lines, you feel a different relaxation, a pace too slow to comprehend and the inhabitants never chasing any deadlines, less the taxi drivers who are always in the hurry and a sore point in the pristine surroundings.

As you climb up, the turns become sharper and steeper, the vegetation is lush green and except for the narrow road, small plants and climbers cover the earth with different shades of green. Even the barks of the conifers are not spared. The temperatures start dipping and the freshness knocks at the panes, telling you to switch off the ac and sniff in the mountain fresh air. The aroma, though heavily laden with that of pine, invites you to a new place away from the city. A mild fog diffuses the sunlight and the afternoons appear like fresh mornings or romantic evenings. The small streamlets and cute culverts on them add on to the beauty and music the environment.

When all the senses of the body get activated, how can the taste buds be left alone? Hungry by nature, the search for the quest can’t be complete, without savouring the food of that place. A local guide without a second thought directed us to the “Soni ka Dhaba”, a place, couple of miles away from Chail. A hungry driver doesn’t need too many directions to home on to the eating joint. The last few miles were covered in no time, leaving behind some places to visit on the way back.

Soni Ka Dhaba is a small eating joint, on the narrow road surrounded by a few shops. I don’t remember whether, I saw the billboard, but the parked cars and restlessly waiting tourist in front of the shop indicated it loud and clear. The waiting was too long and restless city dwellers started thinking for an alternative option, but no one left. The ambience wasn’t any great to write home. From outside, the only thing I could gather was; there was a flurry of activity and the waiters were wading their way through the awaiting crowd and serving steaming hot beverages and ghee topped “fulkas”. The kitchen was in an adjacent shop. It was busy with a flurry of activity. A beautiful lady at the clay Chula baked the fulkas supported by couple of more girls, who with an unmatched expertise rolled out the rotis. Their speed proved my opinion of slow pace of the mountain people wrong. The exotic aroma, swift precise actions next to the hot chula and the beautiful cook, who managed it all so smoothly, without a drop of sweat on the forehead, attracted me. Hats off to her and her staff. With a load full of costumers from different corners of the country standing at the gate and equal number sitting in and ravishing as if there is no tomorrow, everyone worked with a smile. May be that was the key ingredient of the dhaba.

Soon it was our turn, to forget the rest of the world and savour the lunch. The hunger had reached its threshold and the sight of steaming food was making it uncontrollable. The menu was limited thus saved a lot of time browsing the menu card. I love the standard menus, it saves a lot of time and coming on to a consensus on the menu to order for a group is difficult than passing any bill in the parliament. The service was swift and quick. Each and every dish served deserved praise for its taste. My wife, an exclusive cook and my dear son the taste bud and a budding cook were floored by the elusive taste of the food. Thumbs up by my daughter, who is very choosy in her tastes just nailed it. I don’t know who was counting the hot steaming, ghee laced “fulkas”, but no one could say “No” for the next one. Each time a fresh lot landed on the table, it got divided into halves or quarters to reach everyone’s plate. The so-called diet and fat conscience inner voice was lost somewhere and never it did try to intervene. The only communication visible was that of a nodding head.

The taste still lingers on the tongue. May be that was the USP of that place, that it needed no board or a hoarding or a plush façade to draw the customers from all over. Wishing their team prosperity and happiness. Lastly never miss out on the meethi roti as a pudding. Even after a overfilled stomach, it’s awesome.

Kiss

     

      The night was dark and young. The stars shone brightly in the clear sky and awaited the moon to join them. There was chill in the air and the wind brought in the shiver. So many times I have been out at night. Each night has a different texture, different flavour and different music, but I was too preoccupied to notice any thing of it. The road was not the smoothest ever constructed in a far off place, amidst the huge mountains. It had its curves, twists and turns, ups and down, but still it was the only way out from the desolate place.

        The jolt was sudden and strong enough to throw me off in to a different world. Contrary to the freezing cold, it was warm, cosy and comfortable with a delicate breeze across the face. The perfume carried by the breeze was exotic and attractive. A faint music played at the backdrop as if some orchestra was on in some distance inside the gates.  I could see someone in the dark. She stood there with her arms wide open at the main gate. Her vibes were so strong, that I felt being pulled closer towards her as a magnet would do so. In the darkness, I could not see her clearly but her mystic aura was powerful enough to draw me closer towards her. 

        Though mesmerized and enchanted by the romantic surroundings and her beauty, some thing was holding me back. The way an anchor holds on the drifting ship similarly some anchor was holding me back. But her mystic charm was so strong that I wasn't able hold myself. With each inch I moved ahead, I was breaking the barriers, may be trying to get free from the anchor. The moment I reached closer to her, my arms opened for the warm hug and my lips pouted for the eternal kiss. I don't think I saw her in detail. I could not hear any thing else except my heavy breathing over the never so loud heartbeats. May be over the years I had forgotten that I too have a heart, which can beat louder than anything. The breaths were deep and strong. There were no thoughts in my mind and very unlike me I had lost my sense of direction. Though in a strange place, I wasn’t an alien. The thought of regaining back my composure never cropped up and I was finding peace in the drift. 

       Soon I was in her arms. I hugged her tight and kissed her. From the slow drift, I could feel myself being melted into a sublime vapour. The kiss was intense and passionate. Never in my life I was kissed with such a deep passion and love. I never wanted to break the lip lock and continue to taste the nectar. I could feel her intensity and passion for me. The kiss had an urge as if we were waiting for ages to unite. Though from different worlds we were finding solace and happiness within each other. I could feel how easily I was communicating to her without even speaking a word, unwinding my feelings, my emotions, pouring my heart. I felt the strong connect with her as if the lips had all the nerve points, which could be connected as in the movie AVATAR. May be in that short time I was communicating my entire life, my likes- dislikes, my happiness and my sorrows, my glories and my worries, my gains and my pains. She was absorbing each and every iota of mine as if she was quenching her thirst drinking through my lips. With each passing moment I was feeling the transfer of energies making me feel lighter than ether. For so many years, I had gathered so much in my mind, that the nerves were getting relieved as the knots started opening and straightening out. The feel was incomparable to any thing I had experienced so far. I was just transcending from a rigid solid form to a more volatile and free vapour. It was a bliss never experienced.

      Suddenly, I stopped and withdrew a bit, as if everything came to a screeching halt. I was trying to regain my lost conscious. She in her deep voice said, there is a battle inside you, which is holding you back. Yes, subconsciously I was holding myself back. I wasn't ready for such a huge transition. Though I was enjoying the feel, but I had so many things in my mind, a long list of to-do things, I had not even bid farewell to my beloved. My daughter was sleeping when I had left the house and I had promised to buy a birthday gift to my son. The doctor’s appointment for my wife was scheduled in the morning and I had to call my boss as soon I reach back. Why I was there so early and had so many unaccomplished missions. I cannot die.

        I turned back and jumped off the edge. I landed on the hard surface with a thud with blood all over me. I started feeling the chill in the air and the only thing warm, lying injured on the cold metalled road was my oozing blood. I was back to place where I belonged, where I could smell the dust in the air and feel the chill in wind blowing across my numb face. I tried to feel my lips, they were numb and they had lost the sensation. They were wet with blood. My injuries pained as I was evacuated to the hospital. I survived.

monsoon picnic

The hills around Mumbai are an exhilarating sight in the monsoons. The dark burnt hills get a fresh coat of greenery and the small water stream-lets bring in life to it. At places the streams get adventurous and jump off the cliffs, throwing themselves in the air creating beautiful waterfalls. There’s romance in the air and one can see birds in pair enjoying the light showers and drying themselves in some corner. 

         It is difficult to stay away from the beautiful nature. We, a group of college friends, decided to go out for a day in the beautiful and ever inviting arms of the nature. After a lot of research and discussions over the picnic site, we homed on to Malshej ghat, a destination famed for the waterfalls, not very far from the city. The Whats app provided us a beautiful platform to plan, discuss, fantasize, share responsibilities, suggestions and endless chat for all of us spread all over the globe. Excitement made the adrenaline flow through our blood and everyone waited and prepared eagerly for the D day. 

         At seven in the morning on Sunday, the D day, at the rendezvous we all started appearing out of nowhere and soon the environment was full of hugs and kisses, shouts and profanities. Meeting the old friends is such a divine feeling and emotions ran high. The bus journey brought back the old memories with the songs of our time. The Latas and the Kishores brought back those golden days and the bus was humming past the clean morning roads. Hot idlies and chutney satisfied the morning craves. As we neared the mountains and the curves on the road rolled us over each other, we could not stay in for long. A small tea break enroute followed by a photo session on the stream were the only halts we had before we reached our destination.

         The road was cut through the Western Ghats and it had countless waterfalls on the fringes. At places the road cut through the waterfall, and one could feel the water drumming the roof and sides of the vehicle and light showers finding their way inside. The first view of the chosen site was awesome and everyone just jumped off the bus to be the first one to get drenched beneath the fresh milky water. It was bliss. The water was fresh, energetic and refreshingly cold. We all managed to get beneath it and one could feel the gush of the water. It was washing off the travel fatigue, the worries, the tension and pressures we all carry in our professional and personal lives and many other things which still cling on to us. The feel was may be something of the nirvana, a state of happiness and the mind was cooled as a cucumber. The time stopped. No one wanted to get out from the euphoria. The chill in the water had engulfed and tied us to the fall and made us feel part of it. The fall though not so big had a big heart to hold us close to its bosom and caressed us, as a mother would do it for the children.

         With heavy legs we moved out for lunch. The food was savored in no time, as we were hungry like never before. A set of party games brought out the kids in us and allowed the food to settle down. The valleys echoed and reverberated with the laughter and cheers. The small little clouds could not hold back far away from the cheerful friends. They sailed over the valleys and showered their love and blessings. The light intermittent showers amidst the beautiful hills were the experience in itself. No one wanted to leave, even as the sun retired behind the hills, but the day had to end.

         As every one was getting emotional about calling it a day, and the cold wind was making us shiver. We halted for a cup of tea. A cup of tea can bring in life and energy to anyone. Catchy music played in the “pan tapri” caught our attention and it took no time to convert it into a hot dancing destination. The onlookers halted, the the passers by astonished and the shopkeeper shocked to see a group of friends dancing like free birds in the most unlikely place in the world. We carried the dance to the bus and that’s where the pole dance in the moving bus was born. The bus rocked and rolled and roared with the latest numbers. The day was not over yet. Everyone was on the feet swaying, swirling, twisting and dancing in whatever space possible in the moving bus. No one wanted to let go the feeling of happiness, no one wanted the bus to reach home so early and no one wanted to go home. Everyone wanted to hang out for some more time. It was a day to remember, a day of lasting memories, a day of fun and frolic.

         May be we were lost in the maddening world of work and responsibilities. May be we were busy parenting, busy with the families, busy as professionals and hardly had any moments for ourselves. Yes that day we lived it.