A year flies by, yet memories live on...

I still can't believe a year's gone by since that memorable spring day in a sleepy town called Ahmedabad when 280 black cloaked, bright eyed youngsters took the short walk up the stage to collect a piece of parchment that would "brand them for life"! I wonder what emotions might've effervesced in the majestic grass covered quadrangle enclosed by the massive red brick walls that day. Pride, joy, happiness, relief, ambition, hope... if those walls could talk, I'm sure they would be bursting to sing out too. And Louis Kahn, wherever in heaven or hell will sure be proud to have been a part of the making of this wonderful place that was my home for two years and will forever hold a special place in my heart.

As I stepped off the dias, I could think of only one person, the promise that I had made and kept, and the dream that I would continue to strive towards. While walking down the aisle holding the coveted parchment in hand, my eyes sought out my mother and there she was in the distance, her eyes sparkling with tears of pride, shining out like a single daffodil in a field of heather. Wordlessly, I handed over the degree to her and hugged her. The victory was as much hers and dad's as mine. The journey from being a fresh, naive engineer out of college to a strong and more mature "manager" ready to take on the world was a long, winding and hard trail. This was the befitting end - too short maybe, but heart warming. Two years spent there flashed before my eyes as I went around taking pictures with all my family members who had come there to celebrate my success and my dear friends who were setting out on their own paths in life... Words failed me once again. Time seemed to have stopped and yet seemed to be flying... Probably, the best lessons learnt in those grey cement and red brick classrooms were not of Accounting, Finance, Strategy or Marketing, but of those in life - dealing with different kinds of people, learning when to step forward and take a challenge and when to back off, knowing the right time to strike the iron, doing things and more importantly, getting things done...

I have cursed and loved this place in equal measure, but as I left I could feel only one thing - nostalgia. I called this place a torture chamber, a concentration camp, a boiler room, a prison and every other synonym possible during all those sleepless nights in the first year spent feverishly completing assignments, while getting "cold-called" when dozing off in class, after seeing a quiz notice on a totally random subject at 1.30 PM outside the mess and while getting screwed up grades in subjects where I felt like a champ. However, the same brick walls felt like heaven when I lay down on the wet grass all alone, in the wee hours of the morning at the LKP gazing at the stars and feeling the serenity of the place. Time would stand still at those moments and sigh...

Those countless coffees, late nights reading case materials while knowing that I wouldn't remember a thing the next morning, the long discussions at the CT eating maggi and drinking "chai", those countless movie sessions, nights spent playing card games, frisbee evenings, case discussions, forming competition teams and giving up just a few days before the submission, the "WAC runs", the countless treats (many a time, for no reason), the birthday parties, CCCFs, Section tempo shouts, dorm dunking nights... they're all just memories now. Memories that remain fresh in my mind a year since that wonderful day, memories that will always hold a special place in my heart, memories that may fade but will always remain in a small corner of my mind, to materialize on some days like dusty old and yellowed childhood photographs...

These memories may jade over time, but I know that the friendships I have forged during those two years will remain with me for a life time and only get stronger. Irrespective of the forum through or frequency with which we choose to remain in touch - be it random twice-a-year calls made on birthdays, facebook updates, regular gtalk chats, once-in-a-while meet ups, weekly or daily calls, I know these are friends I can bank on to get me out of a sticky situation, to pull me through in times of need, to give me fundae when I need them and when I don't, to join me in all my successes, to stand in 5 hour long queues in the hot sun to get cricket match tickets for me, to provide shelter to me after randomly turning up at their door and to take my calls at 3 AM in the morning.

Guys, it's been a year since that unforgettable day, but the journey will only get better. Here's to friendship, love and luck. And always remember - not one of us is "just a brick in the wall"

Life...

What is life really?

- Is it a bed of roses? Or a bed of nails? Or is it something where the “roses have thorns” argument holds?

- Is it a struggle? Or is it a celebration?

- Is it a bunch of little things that manifest themselves over time? Or huge things, that with time, become memories one would chuckle and laugh about?

- Is it emotion that defines it? Or is it reason? Or is it passion that grabs it with a vice-like grip?

- Is it defined by acting on the spur of the moment? Or by long deliberation?

- Is it about getting totally involved with everything one does – laughing out loud and crying one’s eyes out? Or is it about being able to see everything from a bird’s eye and never wading through the turbid waters?

- Is it about loving someone with all one’s heart that one would be willing to give up one’s very life for them? Or is it about compartmentalizing?

- Is it about expressing oneself and letting everything out? Or is about closeting everything, digging out the skeletons in the cupboard and burying them deep in the murky marshes of one’s mind?

- Should the innocent and naïve heart be allowed to rule one’s thoughts? Or is it the more pragmatic and insensitive brain that should be allowed to take over?

- Is it about living the happiness and smiling through the tears?

- Is it what we become in life that should define us? Or the people we have turned out to be? Or a combination of both?

- Is life black? Or is it white? Or is it just a chequered landscape in multiple hues of gray on whose squares stand tall the ghosts of the past like pieces on a stone chess board? Do these hues change with time?

- Is life determined by one’s choices? Or is there something inexplicable that governs it all? Or is it the hand that Chance doles out, that makes or breaks the deal?

- Is life easy? Or is it complicated? Or is it one’s mind which makes it the way it is?

- Is it about clinging on and blowing into the glowing embers to rekindle the flame? Or is it about letting go and blowing out the candle yourself?

- Is it about cursing the rain and trying to stay dry under the futile cover of an umbrella blowing in the wind? Or is it about letting the rain soak your very soul and bringing a huge smile on your face while making you catch a cold in a matter of minutes?

- Is it about momentary pleasures and long term pain? Or momentary pain and long term pleasure? Or momentary pleasure and pain?

- Is life about the gentle musings of beauty and wonder? Or is it about aggression, passion and achievement? Is it about the green and the blue? Or the red and the black?

- Is it about the moments that tug at our heartstrings and make us cry? Or is it about the countless memories of pleasure and pain that make us sigh? Is it about the withering roses in the dry rosebed? Or is it about the tender rosebud peaking out from beneath the sepals?

- Is it about letting your hair blow in the wind and getting the dust in your eyes? Or is it about staying warm, snug and dust free inside?

- Are we masters of our destiny? Or is there a sadistic master up there pulling at the strings and ridiculing us while we tread, fall and err?

- Is life non-existent without pain? Is pain the underlying base of the dish that life is?

- Is life just determined by time and space? Or is there something else too?

- Does time heal all wounds or does it wound all heals?

- Is life ruled by randomness, a Brownian phenomenon? Or is there an underlying pattern that lies obscured to all human perception?

- Is life a mission with a purpose? Or is it just one long meaningless pursuit?

- Do our deeds live on? Or do we just crumble to dust in our tombs and blend in with the same dust that would become new life?

- Is it dancing like the wind, singing like a lark, flying like an eagle and hunting like a cheetah? Or is it going about a mundane existence like the ant or the honeybee?

- Is life music? Or is it dance? Is it even an art where colors express themselves and have an identity? Or is it a meticulous science determined by equations, precise, but also having an element of error – the delta?

- Is it about blending in or standing out? Is life like a dazzling array of colors that mix together and presume a whole new identity to paint a rainbow together? Or is it like a sculpture etched in stone, stoic and stable for all eternity?

- Is life love? Or is love, life?

- Is life or love about rainbows and butterflies and violins playing amidst the rustle of leaves and the gusty wind? Or is it about compromise and settling for something?

What really is life? I yearn for an answer…

The Song of the Spheres

Dont you think we all are connected? I mean, by us I dont just mean people. I mean all of Creation. The dense green trees, the chirping birds, the wispy clouds, the tall and lofty mountains... 

I think we are. 

Else how could one explain the feeling one gets while one is alone on the beach? If you listen carefully, you feel like the sea is whispering something to you... memories of a time long gone by... like images flashing across the sky that is one's mind... thoughts long forgotten come tumbling by... 

While sitting in a meadow, just reading a book or doing nothing, one feels a sense of calm, of utmost peace that is not felt while sitting on a comfortable couch with not a worry in the world. The top of a mountain, by a gushing stream, lying on the grass in a garden, smelling the flowers, listening to the wind, getting soaked in the rain... one feels this connection, a sense of discovery... one feels closer to himself... It's as though somewhere somewhere wants to talk to you... is trying to reach you... At these moments sometimes, you feel your name being whispered. You look around and find no one. Is someone or something really trying to say something? Are we hearing but just not listening? Or have we got lost in this mundane world to an extent that we just have forgotten the language?

Wordsworth in one of his poems said "To her fair works did Nature link, the human soul that through me ran...". Yes, I kinda believe this too. There must be a link... I guess man is moving too fast to realize this... Else, how is it that birds and animals always know something is wrong before an earthquake but man doesn't? How is it that there seems to be such harmony with a well established food cycle in animals while there is only utter chaos wherever man is involved? 

Man must learn to slow down.. In his pursuit for power and glory, he must not forget that he is just nothing but a small insignificant, infinitesimally small speck in the grand order of things... Just one amongst millions of other species in a small blue planet called the Earth in one of the many solar systems in a little galaxy called the Milky Way, lost in the corner of just one of the infinite number of Universes there are... 

Yes, man must slow down and listen to the Song of the Spheres. Let there be Peace. 

Ode to my Dearest Friend...

I wake up in cold sweat... yet again for the third time this week. I reach out to take a sip of water, but somehow water seems to have lost the ability to quench my thirst. My head is spinning and little balls of light seem to be popping all over in the otherwise pitch darkness of my room. I lie down back again and stare up at the ceiling... I can see her in my mind’s eye so clearly... spread all over the canvas that is the ceiling. I sigh... I miss her a lot. My heart pines for her company. A glimpse of her, just the sound of her voice... anything! I shake my head to clear my thoughts but I somehow just can’t get her out of my head. It’s as though she’s calling out to me, reminding me of the times we’ve spent together. I reach out for another sip of water though I know it’s going to be of no use. My throat is parched and I know exactly what is going to quench my thirst. Oh God. For another glimpse. A few moments with her sometime soon...

My first day on campus at NITK was when I saw her. My mother and I had arrived a day early and after having spent the entire morning setting up the room, we were left with nothing to do in the evening. We decided to take a walk and after crossing NH17, we continued along the sandy road, and that’s when I saw her. Aah.. I still remember that first sight as if it were yesterday. Pristine, sparkling, perfect. Decked in golden orange like a blushing bride, she was there – vast and infinite, stretching up to horizon – the Arabian Sea. I shook off my slippers and ran across the sand feeling like a bird. The very first day and I had found my favourite place on campus. Little did I realize that it was also the beginning of a wonderful lifetime friendship - absolutely pure and delightful.  

The very next morning I was back for a glimpse of her again. The moment I stepped on the sand, a totally different feeling engulfed me. I felt liberated, light, like a bird being released from a cage after a long long time! I looked at the water – all green and gold. She looked so fresh, like she had dressed up to greet me. Now that I think of it, I guess she had... as was the case every morning after that. I smiled and walked towards the edge of the water and she withdrew. Like a little girl who responds to a stranger with a shy smile but withdraws immediately as he approaches her. I tried again and she withdrew again. I gave up. The tide was too low. I sat down on the wet sand and looked around me. Not a soul for at least a mile on either side. It was such a wonderful feeling. I felt at peace. I closed my eyes and the very next moment, I was surrounded by water. Before I could even realise what was happening I was totally wet and when I opened my tingling eyes and spat out the sand and salty water, she was running away again. Giggling like a little girl, a little girl who had accepted me as her friend. And so it began... a wonderful beginning to a wonderful friendship.

Every morning, within 15 minutes of getting up I had to be at the beach. I just HAD to see her everyday else I would be restless for the rest of the day. And every morning she greeted me like she did the very first day – like a little girl clapping her hands in glee when her father comes home after a long day at work, so eager to sit him down and show him all her drawings. And on all those happy mornings, she would either be dressed in green sparkling with the gold the rising sun showered on her or in a wonderful blue hue – the beauty of which can only be experienced, not described. On those happy mornings, she would laugh out loud several times, splashing on the rocks, playing “catch me if you can” with the scurrying crabs. And then we would talk. I told her everything about myself. I know it may sound funny, but I actually did. And when I did, she listened. She would stop her fun and frolic and listen. And she would tell me all about herself. Stories so vast and magnificent that they cannot be penned. Stories of dolphins frolicking in the sun, of shoals of fishes, corals and treasures buried deep inside her – secrets from the depth of the ocean. I was fascinated by each one of them. Sometimes when I visited her at night after dinner and lay down on the sand listening to the waves, we both would look up at the twinkling stars and she would tell me of stories from up above – of angels and elves, flowers, the sun and the moon. I felt like a little child at those times.

In the second year, when the jogging bug had bitten me, she had a ball. Every morning, between fits of laughter, she would watch my desperate attempts to run on the sand for more than half a minute. The moment I gave up and stopped, she would burst out laughing. At times, I would get irritated and chuck a stone at her but she would duck and start laughing again. Even louder than before and that would set me laughing. At other times, her laughter would spur me on to run some more and when I did, she would stop laughing and give me a proud smile.

Not always was she so bubbly and cheery as she was on most mornings. There were times when I understood that she was in a bad mood the moment I saw her. On all those days, she was dressed in gray. A cold steely gray. She would ignore me at times and I let her be. Sometimes, I would ignore her longer on purpose until she herself came to talk to me. And when I would leave after the talk, I always noticed that her mood was invariably lighter. She would seem so much more cheerful. I still remember a particularly gray morning she was in a terrible mood. The waves were crashing down on the rocks with the intensity of a sharp sword. Strong enough to break them down. She seemed like a child throwing a terrible tantrum when she did not get what she wanted. She was furious that day and managed to make me feel pretty gray too. When I visited her again that evening to check out how she was doing, she was back to normal and looked particularly beautiful. Decked in pure gold, she rushed out to greet me as if to apologize for her behaviour that morning.

I always marvelled at her ability to be so cheerful and childish at times, at other times so grown up. She always seemed like different people to me – a little girl with her toys, laughing and playing with her best friend, a younger sister – a friend and confidant, an older sister – a patient listener who always gave great advice, a mother who always understood my moods and somehow always managed to get the smile back on my face...

Though I felt she was like a little girl most of the time, she would sometimes exhibit the wisdom of Queen Sheba. When I became particularly interested in Philosophy in my third year at college, she gave me answers to so many of my dilemmas and would pose so many more. On mornings when I wasn’t feeling so chatty she displayed the tenderness of a grandmother. I would just lie down on the sand and she lapped against my feet quietly – just to let me know that she was there if I felt like talking. At times when I was feeling down, she understood immediately and would sing for me - a song more enchanting than a pied piper’s song, a voice more beautiful than that of a nightingale and before I knew it, I would be smiling again. She never failed to cheer me up. Not even once. Her ability to switch roles totally amazed me. She would spend the entire morning listening to me and advising me when I felt down, but within minutes after she felt I was feeling ok, she would turn all childlike again, splashing me with water and running away laughing. Truly marvellous.

Well, Time and Tide wait for none they say. Tide I say definitely waited for me, like she did every morning to greet me with all the innocence of a child. Time unfortunately wasn’t so considerate and there I was with just two months left in college. They were a blur. Goodbyes to good friends, normal friends, “hi – bye” friends... the list was endless. A week before I left, I was with her in the evening. She seemed to be feeling down. I felt pretty gray too. NITK had been a part of my life for four years – the best years of my life till now and it wasn’t easy to say goodbye. I hadn’t shed a single tear till then though my friends had been crying buckets for weeks. I felt sad yes, but I hadn’t cried. I just sat there gazing at her. And then before I even realized, the tears were flowing. I looked at her. It felt like she was crying too. Weeping... My heart still aches thinking of those first tears. After that, the tears never stopped. And I always cried when I was with her. She was so much a part of me now that leaving her behind would be like leaving a part of me forever. She had helped me grow stronger, helped me build my confidence and character, had taught me the power of thought, had made me ponder over life’s eternal questions, taught me the joy of wonder, of beauty that is so abundant in nature, of joy that life is filled with but is somehow overlooked by everyone, given me answers when I wanted them, nurtured and cared for me whenever I needed someone to look after me... She taught me to appreciate little things in life, reach out to people and make them feel better, the way she did to me. She had been my mentor, a caring teacher and I had never realized that till then. She had been with me through ups and downs, highs and lows... she had always been there.

On my last day, I sat down with her again. She looked like a bride once again. Someone who was wedded and was leaving her mother’s place to go to her husband’s. Exceptionally beautiful and very sad. A bride who knew the future held beautiful promises but still did not want to leave her mother behind. The only difference was that it was I who was leaving. I felt terrible, crushed. I didn’t want to go. I walked down to the edge of the water. The tears on my cheeks were glistening in the moonlight and the salty water running down my cheeks splashed into the salty water beneath. We had connected again, albeit in tears. I bent down and touched the water, told her I would miss her and reassured her I would be back again. She returned a smile – a sad one. I knew how much she would miss me and I knew how much I would miss her. I turned around and walked across the sand. Before I left the beach, I glanced back at her again. She seemed to be pointing upwards. I looked up and saw the most spectacular thing I’ve seen in all my life. The stars seemed to be spelling out “I will miss you” very clearly. I rubbed my eyes and looked once again but everything seemed normal. The great Orion with his broad belt stared down at me. I didn’t know what to make of it. I turned to her to see a broad smile and a quick wink and I knew that what I saw was true. She would miss me... a lot...  and I would miss her too.

10 months it has been since I saw her. 10 whole months. I’ve come to a place where probably many would die to belong to, but somehow, everything’s not complete. I miss my dearest friend. Her gushing giggles, her loud laughs, her quiet cackle, her calm reassurance, her warmth, her love... I really miss her. I promise myself, I’ll be seeing her soon. Very soon. And I’m waiting for the first glimpse once again, when I can smell the salt in the air and feel the sand in my hair, when I can see her beautiful golden self, feel the heat of the sand, smell the fragrance of the ocean, the gaze of her blue eyes, the sound of her voice, the warmth of her embrace... I’m longing for the moment I would be see my little girl running towards me with all her drawings of the day, eager to show me everything. Dearest friend, I’m longing for the day I’ll be with you again... the day when I can feel like a child once again. I promise you... I’ll be there soon! I will!

Happier times ... the beach from atop the lighthouse... NITK beach - the best in the world!

A Silent Death...

Today was one of those days… those days when one does not feel like doing anything and sits around idly… thinking about the mountain of tasks left to be done but not taking the effort to move a limb and do them! I was idly skimming through a 3 days old paper when an article caught my attention. It was called Rangoli Days. Interesting, I thought and I read on.

The writer of this article describes how she heard the Rangoli seller shouting out her wares on the street one day and how it brought back fond memories of two decades ago when Rangolis were ubiquitous. In her own words, she says, “those were the times when the lady of the house would wash the front yard, pick up her bowl of Rangoli powder, bend double and with deft fingers, dab dots and dashes into an interesting motif. Then the bowl would be tucked away into a corner, usually on a window sill, and she would vanish indoors to complete her other chores. The Rangoli was a sign of welcome, and indication that the house was ready for a brand new day.” She goes on to describe how she and her friends would skip around the designs carefully on their way to school and back and how, on festival days, the Rangolis were a lot bigger and more colorful with the sprinkling of petals and flowers for the festive effect.

This article pulled a few chords in my own heart and I reminisced about the time when I was about five. There are some events in one’s life which, however insignificant they are, one never forgets. They stick in our minds. Memories of everyday, insignificant events. Insignificant memories, but priceless, when one feels nostalgic and reflects on the past to remember the good old days. My Rangoli memories were some of them. I was always amazed by how my Grandma would draw huge, beautiful patterns outside the threshold every morning. Perfect to the minutest detail with not a line, nay, not even a dot out of place. Regal peacocks, burning diyas, flowers, beautiful ladies holding lamps… each pattern had its own story to tell. She would allow me to dot the plot once in a while, gently correcting my grip and teaching me the right way to hold the powder in my fingers to get thin and straight lines. I still remember my first pattern - one with lamps and a flower in the middle. The lines were awry and the dots were out of place but my grandma applauded me and gave me one of her special laddoos as a reward. And gazing at my creation, I experienced a joy I’d never experienced before. I’m sure Rembrandt or Picasso wouldn’t have been happier after their first painting!

Then there was the time when the neighbor aunty got a permanent Rangoli pattern painted on her threshold. When my grandma saw this she marched to her house and demanded:

“Why Savithri? Why did you get a Rangoli painted??! Your Rangolis were always so good!”

Savithri aunty said “I know Kamala, but I’m not getting any younger you see. It’s getting really difficult for me to get up so early in the morning every day. And my daughter in law does not have time in the mornings for a Rangoli.

“Well, that’s really sad! But that’s not going to happen in my place! I’ll never get a pattern painted outside my threshold however old and blind I become!” retorted my grandma.

To this day, the first thing that welcomes me when I go back home from college is the beautiful pattern on our threshold complete with fragrant incense sticks sticking out of the mud in the tulsi pot. I always smile at this and look around. I see either bare thresholds or painted patterns at the neighbors’ doors. Or even a car and a two wheeler parked in the place which rightfully belongs to the Rangoli!

It’s really sad actually. Globalisation and modernization are doing a lot of good things – double incomes, lots of other facilities… but they are also eating into our lives. Into the time which was usually reserved for things which truly matter. Things like eating dinner together as a family, or taking a walk together or decorating the our homes on festive occasions. Why, even celebrating festivals has become perfunctory now…

And simple traditions like drawing a Rangoli… well, they just seem to be dying a silent death…

COORG!!!

It was just after the mid sems! In fact, on the very night of the last exam, that six enthusiastic gals (Shish, Sab, Ro, Sonal, Prarth and yours truly) set off to the beautiful place with cloud-capped mountains, gushing streams, beautiful scenes and coffee estates that is Coorg!

After much planning and speculation and of course the stabs (is anyone feeling guilty out there?!), we decided on this beautiful destination. Well, we considering Ooty (which was ditched due to financial constraintsL ) and Wayanad (which is considered a little unsafe) too but finally, Coorg it was! Sab, Shish and Prarth did most of the planning, contacting the hotels for acco et al (since the rest of us had to “study” for our last exam- Marketing Management).

The happiness was evident on our faces when we boarded the bus to Mangalore, with each of us quivering with excitement! We got off at the main bus stand and boarded a bus to Madikeri. We were off at last! Well, for the remaining part of the journey, I slept blissfully, thanks to my wonderful ability to be able to sleep anywhere regardless of the noise and the confusion! But of what I heard, Sab and Sonal had a wonderful time gossiping throughout! The next thing I remember is Ro waking me up at 2 saying “Madikeri is here”. We hopped off the bus and instantly froze! Boy, was it cold! Thanks to a kind soul who was awake at that hour, we managed to get to the hotel and into our rooms. I don’t remember anything after that except taking a pic and posing for one! The first two in a long stream of pics!

The next morning, we woke up at 6:30 (when we were supposed to be up by 5!) and after a hurried hour of getting ready and gulping down hot idlis for breakfast, we were off by 7:30 to Thadiyandamol! For all the folks out there who dunno what this strange word means, it happens to be the highest peak in Coorg District! We got onto a bus at Madikeri main stand to Kaikamba, the town closest to Thadiyandamol. I made some good friends on the bus journey having seated next to an old man (who told me all about Thadiyandamol, Bhagamandala and Talacauvery) and later, a Coorgi lady (who told me quite a bit about Coorgi customs and even invited me to a wedding later that day!!). After an hour’s journey on a surprising good road, we got off at Kaikamba. The bus conductor had promised us that the actual trek to Thadiyandamol was just ½ a km away, but we ended up walking 5 km on a steep uphill road! Our foolishness not to take a jeep actually!

My fellow trekkers!

The trek though not difficult at all, is extremely scenic. We were still not even halfway up, when the views were breathtaking! Surrounded on all sides by mountains, we could see sparkling streams that looked like glistening silver threads from the distance, lush green fields in the valley below, the little houses and the ubiquitous coffee estates! It’s beautiful how God plays with colors! On one side, u have the sky sporting different shades of blue in different parts, the mountains in every imaginable shade of brown and gray covered by the rich green forests, whose trees are capped with a pink cover of tender new leaves, the fresh green of the lush paddy fields, the white, gray and black of the clouds, the myriad of flowers each of a different hue, red and purple, yellow and blue, the golden sunlight which makes everything sparkle with glee and above all the wonderful fresh raindrops on the leaves which cast rainbows everywhere after their game with the light! No poet, no artist, no photographer can capture the essence of the beauty of Nature in all her glory! She changes colors and shades faster than it takes to blink and smiles mischievously when u try to create a copy of her beauty on paper or canvas! Well, I just can’t go on! It ought to be experienced- the beauty and the magnitude of that moment can only be captured by the eye and perceived by the mind, nothing else! I was spellbound as Nature mesmerized me with her beauty and tried in vain to capture a few snapshots of that beauty with my camera but I honestly failed miserably. Nothing and nobody can do full justice to Nature and her charm.

A view from Halfway up en route to the Thadiyandamol peak.

This pic is one of my personal favorites!

There wasn’t much to do after that with heavy rains pounding down on us and we slipped with every step we took, so we decided to head back and go elsewhere. We managed to get hold of a jeep to take us back to Kakkabbe after a visit to a nearby coffee estate which had its own waterfall! We got back to Madikeri and after a much delayed lunch (at 4:30) we headed to the Madikeri museum (which frankly does not have much!) and then to Raja Seat, another place with a breathtaking view! If Thadiyandamol has treats for the eye, bathed in sunlight, this holds feasts for the eye by the twilight. After a round of chaats and the musical fountain, we trekked back to the room to rest our “tired” limbs.Shrouded in mist... near Raja Seat.

A pic on the fort near the museum.

The next day, we set off to Dubare Elephant camp (located near Kushalnagar). We had the cross the river Cauvery in a boat to reach the elephants. Sadly we could not go river rafting here coz it cost an outrageous 600 bucks per person! At the camp, we made friends with Parashurama (aged 3), Ranjan (aged 8) and Maithili (aged 52), all of them the trunked inhabitants of the camp. Sadly again for us, we could not go for an elephant ride as most of the elephants had gone to the Dasara procession at Mysore.

Parashurama at Dubare

From Dubare we went to Nisargadhama after an amusing auto journey with 6 of us (7 including the driver) in one auto and me sitting on the window bar! Nisargadhama happens to be a quiet place with tree houses, bamboos, rabbits, deer and monkeys. A huge garden where one can spend many hours in solitude, reading a book, penning down thoughts, pondering… I felt at peace there. Nature was placid and calm. Time seemed to stand still. The bamboos seemed to create music with percussions in the breeze with the chirping rendering beautiful melodies in the soft green light.

Nisargadhama

After a good lunch at Kushalnagar, we moved to the famous Buddhist monastery and what a treat it turned out to be. The meditation hall was an architectural marvel with beautiful and huge statues, marvelous pillars, rich paintings and the quiet solitude and calm that can only be experienced. I clicked more than I blinked there. Monks dressed in maroon walked everywhere, chanting with prayer beads, talking on the phone, moving in line… Little monks running around and playing… devout ladies bowing their heads before the deity…

The prayer hall at the Buddhist monastery.

After a bit of shopping at the Tibetian shops in the complex, we headed back to Kushalnagar and then to Madikeri at around 5 in the evening. We visited the Omkareshwara temple in evening and then headed back to the room. After a series of card games, “Badam Saath” being the most popular, we trooped to East End Hotel and tasted good food for the first time in many days! Then back to the room, packing, checking out, going to the bus stand at midnight and boarding a bus going to Kundapur, getting off in front of the guest house early next morning…

We cheered! We had finally made it back, safe and sound after having a wonderful time at the Scotland of India, Coorg! Two days filled with fun and rich experiences. Hope there are many more such memorable trips to come!

Highlights of the trip:

1) Sab’s birthday on the day we went to Dubare and the “green eyed” cakes we got for her! Hope u had a wonderful day!

2) Prarth’s birthday on the day we were travelling back and our “Happy Birthday” song for her sung on NH 17 after we got off the bus. Hey kiddo, welcome to the world! J

3) Sonal’s explanation of “intern monks” when we were all wondering aloud as to why some of the monks were staying outside the Vihara.

4) Sonal: “Hey!”; Little monk: “No!” (Ask her for more details! I’m still rofling coz of this!)

5) The sleepyard pics in the bus(es).

This post is dedicated:

1) To Mother Nature, the most beautiful lady I’ve ever seen.

2) To Divya and Pragathi who unfortunately could not make it. U guys were terribly missed!

3) To Varun and Shashank for giving us very useful details on the hotel, trek and gen stuff.

4) To my wonderful camera which helped us capture the wonderful memories of this trip and record them in places other than our hearts and minds.

5) To the 9 leeches which managed to draw blood from some of us ( Sab – 7, Shish and Prarth – 1 each. Sonal, Ro and I were very fortunate indeed to escape their bites).

6) To all those who managed to read this post and reach this point.

7) To Prarth, Shish, Sab, Ro and Sonal – my fellow trippers. It was truly great fun guys!

8) To William Wordsworth, my idol, for giving the world some of the most beautiful descriptions of Mother Nature and one of the very few who’s gotten closest in doing justice to her beauty through his works.

An Ode to Lavender

There she sits, pretty and purple on my over-cluttered table. Lifeless now, but still not displaced from her position. She's no nightingale, but i still love her voice! She's managed to hold her fort, secure her place on my table, no mean achievement i can assure u.

I still remember the day she was bought, a few days after we moved into our own home in Bangalore and my school van came to pick my sis and me at an outrageously early time.. 6:30 a.m that is! and that's really early even for an over enthu school kid like me who loved school, assignments, tests and the before-school-began lagori and basketball games. I assure u, I've changed a LOT now! I missed my van a couple of days, having woken up only when the driver sounded his horn and resulting in my disgruntled dad having to drop us off to school! Then, she arrived.. to make lives simpler for us... a beauty in purple and white! Her hands so slender and the numbers so beautifully carved. She was surely a thing of beauty! It was love at first sight for me!

Traditional households usually wake up to the strains of the Suprabhatha, but not us, no! We woke up to her melodious notes! Well, they weren't exactly melodious, but we got to school by van without our dad having to drop us off, while looking at his wristwatch a thousand times and cursing all and sundry, Bangalore's traffic included! We were all happy and life in school went on!

Come college, and like every other "above average" student in our country, i was enrolled into IIT-JEE coaching classes from 6 to 9 in the morning! EVERYDAY!! This meant that i had to be up by 4:30 a.m to catch the 5:15 bus! Impossible i thought, but not for long! Lavender (that's what i called her then), kept me company and saw me through those tumultuous years of 11th and 12th.

JEE turned out to be a fiasco like no other, but AIEEE somehow clicked, and here i landed. In NITK. Lavender came along of course, but i stopped calling her that cos i felt it sounded stupid. But i continued to rely on her and she never let me down even once. She saw me through all the first hour classes @ 7:55! I never missed a single first hour class cos i never woke up late ( all my friends will vouch for that) ! And when i decided to get up at 4:45 for yoga, she made sure i did.

Come second and third year, and i became a fitness freak . Well, it didn't exactly yield the desired results, but hey, atleast i made an attempt! She woke me up at sharp 6 every morning and i would go jogging... with the wind in my hair, coming back sweating like a mad pig but exhilarated! Engineering exams involve a lot of last minute work... in fact, almost all of it is last minute work! But she was there to make sure i had those last minutes on the mornings of the exams to read up on hitherto unread photocopied material! She made sure i attended all the classes inspite of an "almost" nightout where i would run to bed at 4 in the morning after a looooooooong movie session or project report writing or submissions! She never once let me down!

And then final year came... she saw me through the frenetic placement season when i tried to unravel Kernighan and Ritchie's gift the the world - the eternal "C" and i managed to pull it off! And now, here i was, with a job in hand and in final year where attending classes had almost become a thing of the past. Her snooze button which had hardly been used before became the button i used the most, apart from the keypad buttons on my phone, and thus she drained out. Died a slow and quiet death while her battery ran out. I made no effort to replace it as i needed her no more. The least i could do to honor the services she had rendered to me was to keep her on my table.

And here she is... on my table. She looks so demure in death too, so beautiful and so perfect... purple and pretty, my sweet little clock Lavender.