ever and anon

Gonna fly now

2011-12-15T05:23:00.000-08:00

First weekend in December, I was at Kamshet at the site and while I was grounded because of an injured foot, Ash and Anand were up in the sky flying at will. I was reduced to taking pictures and videos while they enjoyed the wonderful weather in the sky. Come evening and I removed the bandage on the foot (am I glad) and when I felt much better and comfortable, I made up my mind to fly the following day. This was to be my first flight after the flying season had resumed. Though my flight lasted only for half an hour, good thermic conditions ensured that we gained good height at above 1000 mtrs. One that will be cherished for a long time.

2011: New Year’s Resolution

2011-12-07T03:30:00.000-08:00

The month of December holds a special meaning for me. Anything I see assumes the colour of green, red and white. Cds, primarily of Boney M playing Christmas tracks, other artists playing Christmas Carols and the likes begin to reappear on the top of the stack. Not unlike any other, I think about Christmas celebrations with family, followed by New Year celebrations with friends. This year is no different. However, the other day, it reminded me that a resolution I made when the year 2011 arrived was yet to be fulfilled.

I welcomed the New Year 2011 among friends at Ramesh’s place. After the clock chimed 12 and we wished each other New Year greetings, I reached out for my glass of whisky. And as I tasted the woody blend, I decided to make my New Year’s resolution. I held out my glass, looked ruefully at the drink and declared to my friends that I resolve to get myself a drinking permit. My resolution was greeted with cheers and the frolic continued.

Over the months, I had completely forgotten about my resolution. It was on the arrival of December this year, I recollected the resolution that I had made. With the very first opportunity, I headed to the Excise Department and procured a ‘Life Time Drinking Permit’. Mission Accomplished :-)

Exploits in Thailand

2010-12-30T08:44:00.000-08:00

My Skydiving Video

Performing with a band at Pattaya

Skydiving at Pattaya topped our list, when me and Ivan had earlier chosen Thailand as one of the countries to visit. Little wonder then that we chose Pattaya as our first destination and soon as we’d checked into our rooms we headed out to enrol for Skydiving for the following day. Once committed, we set out to explore the place. There are bars aplenty and, women inviting you for a drink is commonplace. For a reveller, Thailand is Utopia and I won’t delve into this in my blog, but, on our exceptional exploits. We spent our evening at one of the bars on Walking Street, a lane which is abuzz with neon glowsigns and flocking tourists, that leaves an impression that you are a part of some carnival.

Next morning we were picked up from our hotel and taken to the drop zone where the Thai Sky Adventures conduct tandem Skydiving. Skydiving, as anticipated was an absolute thriller, where they took us to about 13,000 feet in a porter pc6 aircraft and then we just lean out and take a plunge. The moment you are about to leap out gives you an exhilarating feeling like nothing else. During our instructions, I learnt that a glider (not a parachute) is deployed after about 45-50 seconds of free fall, and I informed my instructor Frank that I am a Club Pilot in Paragliding. When he was convinced, Frank handed me the brake toggles to steer us to the landing before he took over for the final approach. The Skydiving video is one of the videos (thanks to Pradeep, our camera man) which I’ll cherish forever.

Evening, we landed at Walking Street again to celebrate. We went to ‘Blue Sky’ where a Rock Band was performing to requests. Elated, as we were with our skydiving experience, we placed requests after request for our favourite tracks to be performed by the Band. When I was about 5 or 6 pegs of JD down, I had a sudden urge to sing and approached the band with the request if I could perform with them. They assented and the next moment I was up there on the stage lending vocals to the song ‘Creep’. Ivan could only manage to capture a small snippet for the video as the memory card in the camera got exhausted and could go no further. For me, this was the second thrilling experience of the day.

We stayed in Pattaya for three days before we headed to Bangkok for the final leg of our journey. The day we arrived in Bangkok, was spent in fun and frolic. The next day, we took off early in the morning for Kanchanaburi for the Tiger Sanctuary. By the time we reached the sanctuary, we could only manage to see the tigers at close quarters. If we’d have reached a couple of hours earlier, we would’ve got a chance to play the big cats. However, we found good friends in Jacek and Martyna from Poland on our way to Kanchanaburi. On our way back, we were delayed so much that we’d missed our last public transport from Kanchanaburi to Bangkok. And so, we were left with no alternative than to hitch-hike and fortunately we managed to hitch a ride in a pickup truck and the owner of the pickup was so helpful that, not only did he drop us off at the Kanchanaburi, but he ensured that we got an economical transport all the way to Bangkok. On reaching Bangkok, me, Ivan, Jacek and Martyna ganged up again to chill out for the rest of the evening.

Pandemonium on our way back.

We had only one day left for shopping for family and friends; we devoted the next day to it and, after all the rigmarole we decided to go ballistic that evening. We cleared our hotel bills, packed our travel bags in advance and set our alarms to 7am so that we could reach the airport the next day by 9am, for our flight was scheduled for 12. Needless to say, we were partying till the wee hours in the morning and I woke up to stare at glaring sunlight on my face. I panicked when I saw that the time was 9:10am. I battered Ivan till he was wide awake. We made good time as our cab reached us the airport at 10:45am and we managed to check in our luggage alright. While we were at the screening area for personal belongings, a lady constable accosted me and asked me to step aside. Much to my bewilderment, she emptied the contents of my waist-pouch on the table, and there popped out the empty cartridges of the fired bullet shells, we’d collected as mementos, from Vietnam. When I explained to the lady about the shells, she said that I could carry on, except the mementos would now adorn the trash can. It wasn’t an option presented to me and, my hangover notwithstanding I tried convincing her no avail. Finally I conceded and as I joined Ivan, he reprimanded me for being careless. He also refused to give me one of the mementos shells that he had in his baggage ‘checked in’. My loss coupled with the hangover was enough to get me morose and our connecting flight got us to Singapore where we had another four hours before we could board the flight to Mumbai.

The drama that ensued assumed gigantic proportions. I stepped out of the Singapore screening area while Ivan was now asked to step aside. Ivan had not ‘checked in’ the memento shells after all. While I was only confronted by a lady constable at Thailand for the blunder, Ivan was gheraoed and led to a cordoned off area. I tried explaining to one cop who wouldn’t let me in and though every cop seemed hostile in the beginning, they seemed more responsive when they realised it was only empty shells. The cop I had confronted earlier came back and informed me that it was only some formalities that required taken care of before Ivan could walk free. He pointed out to the lounge where I could wait for Ivan before he could join me within the hour, to which I retorted (understand this, I was still under the influence of alcohol or hangover, if it makes more sense) “Keep him for another three hours if need be” and to myself “while I catch up on some lost sleep”. Formalities done, Ivan walked scot-free and hammered me till I was wide awake. He proudly displayed the gum he’d been chewing all along while he was being questioned about the shells and I thought to myself “is he for ‘real’?” or is ‘he’ for real?” The rest of the trip from Singapore to Mumbai was all about reminiscing, hi-fi-ing and more Jim Beam on Singapore Airlines till we touched down.

View picture at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=277800&id=686198445&l=9fe053a9de

Cambodia: Of Temples, spiders and birds…

2010-12-30T01:57:00.000-08:00

Video of me devouring an entire bird in Cambodia ;-)

Day 10: Sept 13

We reached Phnom Penh at around noon and as we alighted we were surrounded by a swarm of tuk tuk drivers who swooped on anyone that resembled an alien entity. After we managed to extract ourselves from the chaos, we headed to the bus station from where we had a pickup to Siam Reap. The bus to Siam Reap would drop us at our destination at around mid-night and so I headed to the nearest Liquor shop to buy some Cambodian whisky. When I returned Ivan excitedly pointed to a lady selling roasted spiders and asked if I was interested in devouring one. “Goes without saying” I said as I made my way to the lady and bought a couple of roasted spiders. Among EEW’s and Yuck’s from our European co-travellers, we bit into the spiders and frankly speaking it tastes nothing different from dried fish and it’s a good drink accompaniment. Enroute to Siam Reap, our bus halted at a restaurant for dinner where one of the accompaniments to the meal was what appeared to be a small bird that was roasted entirely, including the beak and claws. I couldn’t resist helping myself to one and among more EEW’s and Yuck’s from our European co-travellers, I relished the bird. We reached the Jasmine Lodge at around midnight and arranged for a tuk tuk to take us to Angkor Wat.

Day 11: Sept 14

We were advised to reach the site as early as 4 am to beat the crowd and we did just that. While Ivan got around to setting up the camera on a tri-pod to get that perfect shot, I engaged myself in counting the number of tourists who alighted the steps while gaping at the magnificent structure, clearly not noticing the puddle at the foot of the steps and stepping into it and out of it clumsily. As the count increased, so did my excitement; and I knew that it was going to be a terrific day after all. Angkor Wat needs no description; the magnificence has to be experienced. So were the other temples that we covered during the day i.e. Bayon, Banteay Srei and the Ta Phrom temple. Each temple was unique. At Ta Phrom, Ivan appeared interested in the gigantic trees more than the temple itself. However, by evening after we reached the Jasmine Lodge, we decided we’d had more of temples than we’d asked for in Cambodia and we decided to depart for Thailand the following day. Evening we engaged in a game of pool with other tourists from the hostel and it turned out to be a long night as our bottle of whisky came out.

Day 12: Sept 15

After checking out, we bade farewell to our new-found friends, especially Mr. Kunh, the gentleman who owns and manages the Jasmine Lodge, creating an opportunity for young kids to work there and earn for specifically paying for their own education.

By now, we had crossed borders via air (flight), water (speed boat on the Mekong delta); we had decided to cross the Thailand border via land at Poipet. Even though the visa charge for Thailand is nil, the fact that we had got our visas done from India itself made every border crossing much easier.

Saigon

2010-11-27T00:34:00.000-08:00

Day 9: Sept 12

We checked into a hotel in Ho Chin Minh only for the purposes of safeguarding our luggage and headed out for the tour of Kuchi village. Having read about the villagers of Kuchi who were peasants by day and Vietcong by night, we could not wait to visit the village. Mr. Lan, from Delta Adventures, was our tour guide and even as he talked about how the simpletons of Kuchi, under the leadership of Uncle Ho, fought the heavily armed US forces, it sounded incredible. At Kuchi, we were told about how the Vietcong built tunnels in three levels and how they survived the enemy by staying crouched inside the tunnels to ward off enemy attack. It’s only when we were shown one of the many such entrances to the tunnel that the magnanimity of the experience struck us. The camouflaged entrances to the tunnels were hardly one and a half feet in length and breadth, just enough for a person to enter only if slithers inside with hands raised. Once in, it only offers you breathing space to go down on your fours and thereon crawl to enter the passage way into the tunnels. Mr. Lan offered us a chance to try and enter one of the tunnels. I grabbed the opportunity and almost got stuck while entering. One minute inside and as I came out, I felt cramped all over. Further on, Mr. Lan held the audience captivated as he explained the guerrilla tactics employed by the Vietcong. Various trap doors and weaponry, crafted from wood and with sharpened bamboo sticks integrated as spears, designed to kill or maim the enemy, kept us in awe. Finally, we arrived at the destination that was one of the key reasons for visiting Kuchi, second to its historic past of course, i.e. the shooting range. Here, one could buy bullets for AK47, MI 16 et. al. and fire it in the shooting range. We bought 10 shells of AK47 each and took our turns to fire them. Fantastic experience. We took 2 shells of the spent bullets as souvenirs. Little did we know that these spent bullet shells will later tell us a different story later on.

Once the Kuchi tour was over and we were back in the city, we picked our bags from the hotel and headed to Chou Doc, from where we intended to cross international borders to Cambodia via the Mekong Delta on a speedboat. Come morning and we joined eight other tourists on the speedboat to Cambodia. Our boat dropped us off at the immigrations and from thence, after having done with the immigration formalities, we were picked up by another speed boat to Phnom Penh.

View pictures on http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=268085&id=686198445&l=ca82d649fe

Castaway in Vietnam

2010-11-01T08:37:00.000-07:00

Day 8: Sept 11

On the bus from Nha trang to Ho Chin Minh, we whipped out our tribal mix i.e. Vietnam whisky in coke bottles, soon as we’d settled in our seats. Ivan’d had a restless night in the bus the previous night, was groggy even before he had finished his bottle and was asleep by 10pm, while I nursed my whisky at a leisured pace till I had lapped it all up and went to sleep a little later. I woke up in the middle of the night, around 2am, to realize that the bus had stopped to drop a couple of European girls enroute. I glanced out to see that the driver had stepped out for a smoke and his helper was fishing out the girls’ luggage from the luggage compartment. The stop was at a hotel and there was a dim light in the lobby and no staff around. The hotel itself was the only structure and it was surrounded by fields on all sides. My bladder was bursting at the seams and I saw an opportune moment to relieve myself. I called out to Ivan, but he was deep in a slumber and I decided against waking him. I got down and asked the driver the directions to the loo and he pointed it out to me. I went in and as I came out a couple of minutes later, I was baffled to see the bus nowhere in sight. Only the two European girls were around and I walked up to them to inquire about the bus. Even they expressed their surprise at the bus having started off without me. However they told me the bus had not gone ahead. The driver had reversed the bus and had stopped about 250-300 metres away from the place we were standing. They pointed out to the distance and I could see the bus’s headlights. The effects of whisky and sleep suddenly vanished and I was contemplating if I should walk towards the bus or stay put for it to come back. When the bus showed no signs of moving, I started walking along the road with only the waning moonlight and the bus’s headlight in the distance guiding me. As I neared the bus and was within 50 metres from it, the bus started moving. I waved frantically at the driver. To my utter disbelief, he just ignored me and sped past, while I was left wondering if this was really happening to me. To top it all, the sonovabitch didn’t even stop the bus at the point I had got off it. I started walking back through the darkness towards the only light in the vicinity and the European girls were still there. While walking back, I was weighing my chances of catching up with Ivan in the morning. Fortunately I had a good amount of money, in dongs and USDs, and my passport with me in my waist pouch. So I knew I could travel to Ho Chin Minh in the morning by the first transport available and call up Ivan on his mobile and meet him again. My only concern was, callous that Ivan is known to be, he was most likely to overlook my luggage when he got off.

The European girls had witnessed all that happened and they asked me my POA. They were as bewildered as me and I told them I had no chance but to stay put till I found some transport in the morning to Ho Chin Minh. They were apparently waiting for their hotel transport to pick them up. While we were chatting, my ears picked up the sound of a motorbike approaching and the next moment, I hastily excused myself and was on the road flagging the bike. When it stopped, I explained that I had missed my bus and asked the bike rider if he could help me catch up with it. He agreed and I hopped on waving the girls goodbye. It had been only about 10-15 minutes since my bus had left and I felt a surge of hope as the bike picked up speed and I egged the pilot all the more. A good twenty minutes later, we caught up with the bus and we flagged it to a halt. I alighted from the bike and headed straight to the bus. Now I was fuming and wanted to vent it out on the driver. As I approached the bus, the driver realized his folly and even as I yelled at him, he was apologising profusely and kept repeating only one word ‘sorry’. I calmed down, stepped out again and paid the bike pilot 1,00,000 dongs. He thanked me as I thanked him for bailing me out of a nightmarish situation. As I stepped in, I passed a couple in the bus who were giggling about me being stranded. I was still in a foul mood and I asked them if they thought it was really funny. They said they didn’t mean offence but that it was quite an exciting evening that I had. I acknowledged it and as I passed Ivan to reach my seat, I just shrugged when I saw him snoring, oblivious to the incident altogether. I mused for a while on the incident and smiled at the fortunate turn of events. I wouldn’t lose my luggage after all.

When we reached Ho Chin Minh in the morning, we were collecting our luggage when, the driver happened to come across and I chided him by asking if he always abandoned some tourist or the other in the dead of the night. He apologised again while I laughed him off. That was when Ivan asked me what happened and he looked at me in disbelief as I narrated this entire incident.

Finally we’d reached Ho Chin Minh. We were in Saigon.

To be continued…

Vietnam (Part 2) - Shopping, scuba and snorkelling

2010-10-18T07:14:00.000-07:00

Day 6: sept 9

We alighted the train at Danang and took a cab to Hoi An. Initially we did not have Hoi An in our itinerary but had included it at the last moment. When we had booked our train ticket to Danang (that would reach us early morn), we had simultaneously booked the tickets to Nha Trang via an evening bus the same day. We planned to shop in Hoi An during the day and leave the same evening. We reached Hahn Café in Hoi An from where we had our tickets to Nhatrang so we could confirm the time for departure. To our utter dismay, we were informed that the tickets were not available. I argued with the manager that I had already paid cash for the tickets and I was told the tickets were confirmed, while the manager argued that we were supposed to call and confirm that we would travel with the tickets by which we had paid in cash for. I still do not understand where we went wrong; if you do, you belong to Vietnam :p

The hotel bookings that we had done from India in Vietnam and Cambodia went for a toss from thence; we had to pay for an extra day every hotel that we went to after that, since we reached one day late everywhere. Nevertheless, Hoi An proved worth the stay. Hoi An is a shopper’s paradise. The streets in Hoi An are lined with shops displaying clothes of various designs/patterns. First thing that we bought were backpacks in which we could stuff purchases. We bought quite a few clothes and memorabilia from Hoi An. Come evening and we were at the pub ‘Before and Now’, enjoying good music while playing pool with some Europeans. While I was not at my very best, Ivan was playing exceptional and a couple of good shots from Ivan tamed the snobbish opponents that they started taking things seriously. When we finished, the arrogance was replaced by respect in their eyes and we made friends. Later in the evening we went to a restaurant in the vicinity and hogged on various Vietnamese cuisines. Vietnamese food, for one, is something that I really enjoyed among other South East Asian country food that I tasted.

Day 7: sept 10

We got up late and caught up on our lost sleep knowing fully well that we had an entire day before we took the bus to Nha Trang at 5.30 pm. We had to pick up various clothes that we had paid for. I was very sceptical the previous day when I was sold a drawstring trouser and when I returned to the shop to try it, I liked it so much that I asked them if they could stitch 2 more in 2 hours since I had a bus for Nha Trang to catch. And deliver, they did. On time. Perfect fits. All said and done, Hoi An offers more to girls than guys.

The bus was a sleeper coach that travels from Hoi An to Nha Trang during the night. We got the seats on the left flank and to our utter dismay we found that the seats were smaller than the ones in the middle and the right flank in order to accommodate a loo inside the bus. This created so much of discomfort that even the ready mix of whiskey and coke could not ease the discomfort. I grabbed an opportunity and the seat when a traveller from the middle flank disembarked and when I waved goodnight to Ivan, it left him cursing me through the night while I settled into a deep slumber.

Day 8: sept 11

First thing after we checked into a hotel in Nha Trang, we booked a scuba diving and snorkelling trip. The cab picked us up from the hotel at 10:30 am and the sight that greeted us at the dock left me awe-inspired. I had never seen blue waters in the sea and had always wanted to experience it: the only blue waters I had encountered was at the swimming pool I frequented. As the boat took us away to the destination, we were provided the scuba gear and given on various instructions on the sign indications underwater. I always believed I had an aquatic side to me and scuba diving enthralled me no end. I the blue waters were fascinating, the corals and the multi-colored fishes surrounding you were jaw dropping, except you couldn’t drop your jaw in order to keep biting on to the only tube that provided you oxygen underwater;-) Even Ivan who was sceptical about scuba diving initially gave in to the alluring blue waters and decided to experience the waters. We stayed underwater for about 45 minutes and then we surfaced. While it was the turn of the other tourists for scuba, I grabbed the moment to take turns at swimming and then snorkelling in the blue waters. Later we were taken to a different spot for some more scuba diving where there were other varieties of corals and fishes. Scuba diving is an experience; it provides you no adrenaline rush and marine life can only bring you at peace that one craves for in a fast paced life led.

When we reached the hotel, we booked a car that could take us to the Buddha temple in the vicinity. After our visit to the Buddha Temple, we went to a spa and indulged in a mud bath and showers from a mineral spring. In the evening we boarded a bus that would take us to Ho Chin Minh and we had ensured that we selected the seats on the right flank that offered seats with enough leg room for comfort. However, I was still oblivious to an adventure that was due me.

Pics @ http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=243414&id=686198445&l=24e4567176

To be continued…

Venturing Vietnam (Part 1)

2010-10-12T08:31:00.000-07:00

Day 4: sept 7:

Vietnam offered us a good deal of highs to keep us on our toes all through. Ivan and me had planned our itinerary such that we fly in to Vietnam. However, to exit the country and to add to the thrill, we had planned to take the boat trip via the Mekong Delta to Phnom Penh in Cambodia. Since we did not have a confirmed ticket out of the country, we were the only guys among all who were escorted for questioning at the immigration. The officer asked us everything possible regarding our stay in Vietnam and our plans to travel out. We answered diligently while ogling at the beautiful Vietnamese air hostesses who were passing by. After confirming that we had enough USDs on our persons to even exceed our stay by four times the number of days that was divulged, our immigration was cleared and we stepped out of the airport. Now we had to withdraw local currency and I headed to one of the ATMs at the airport. The local currency is Dongs and I wanted to withdraw Dongs equivalent to 20,000 INR. I did a quick calculation I almost fainted at the figure I arrived at i.e. 76,00,000 Dongs. I don’t mind admitting that I was intimidated by the seven digit amount I decided to withdraw only 38,00,000 dongs. The seven digit amount was still gnawing at the back of my mind and my hands were quivering while I added the zeros to 38. After much deliberation I hit ‘Enter’. When I got the receipt for the withdrawal, I cried out for joy when I saw the number of zeros (I didn’t bother counting it) that proclaimed the balance in my account. I knew then that I loved the country.

We took a cab to the Central Backpacker’s Hostel at Ly Quoc Su Street in Hanoi. By the time we had showered and settled down, it was late afternoon and we set out to explore. Evening was at a local pub that played some good music. We came back early since we had to leave early for Hanoi the following day. However, when we reached the hostel, we got chatting and made friends with Matt, an Australian and Useke, a Japanese; out came Jim Beam and the night suddenly looked young. After a couple of whisky shots, we joined the bunch of men and women from various countries (other fellow room mates) who were recounting their travel experiences over free beer served by the hostel.

Day 5: sept 8

The alarm failed to wake us up and one of the hotel staff got us up by informing that the bus for Halong Bay would pick us up in 15 minutes. Need I say speed was of essence. I slept in the bus on the way to Halong Bay. On our way, we stopped at an exhibition where I picked up a Vietnamese straw hat. A beautiful girl at the exhibition sold it to me. She was all smiles as I tried it on and I bought it. I was wearing it all the way to Halong Bay posing for pictures wearing it. Even Ivan liked it so much that he posed for a couple of pics sporting it. It was at Halong Bay that a Malaysian lady, we befriended, told us that the straw hat in question was worn only by the women in Vietnam. Ivan almost suffered a stroke while I kept glum. Ivan didn’t want anything to do with the hat after that, so much so that he refused to even touch it since then, while I was adamant that I would carry the hat to India (which I eventually did and the straw hat survived being crushed many times, some of the attempts by Ivan, though it is difficult to say it was intended or not ;)

Halong Bay is an array of magnificent Limestone mountains scattered like islands in green water. Spectacular would be an under statement. We stopped at a trawler selling fishes and we bought 2 big crabs that were cooked and served for lunch on the boat. After lunch, we were taken to a place where we opted for a two person kayak and we set out exploring the various caves in the mountains on the kayak. Initially our kayak refused to move ahead but within moments we were on a roll and were kayaking between the mountains at good speed. On our way back, we picked up a bottle of Vietnam Whisky as we had to leave the same evening to Hoi An via the night train. We prepared our tribal mixes (whisky in cola bottles) for our train journey. When we reached the railway station, we realized that beer cans were freely available at the station. We bought a couple of chilled beers each and began our train journey with a smile on our faces.

To be continued…

Pics @ http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=228124&id=686198445&l=1163e4ce45

Sing Sing on a song

2010-09-28T05:24:00.000-07:00

4 sept 2010 (day 1):

Our flight to Singapore was at 00:20 hrs and the 5 hr odd flight landed at Changi airport at about 8 am Singapore time. After the immigration formalities we proceeded to Chinatown, a place ivan and me had previously marked for our stay in Singapore. An airport staff advised us on buying the Tourist Pass which allows for innumerable travel across the MRT network and the buses within Singapore (excluding sentosa) and the pass held us in good stead, as, in the days to come we used the pass to the point of abuse ;-)

We checked in at Service World Backpackers Hostel and headed out to explore right after. Firstly we headed to the Merlion’s Park. Something that surprised me was when we asked people around for directions to the Merlion Park, most of them seemed clueless (or was it us). Nevertheless, the Merlion is certainly promoted more in tourism than it is known. When we reached the Merlion, we took as many snapshots of it as possible for our image bank (Sanjay @ ddw, for one, would be more than delighted about it). Then we proceeded to Boat Quay (pronounce boat key) for some beers and music. Some beers down, we headed to our hostel and downed a coupla Jim Beam shots before we hit the sack.

5 sept 2010 (day 2):

We slept like logs and when I woke up, the room was dark and cool. I tossed and turned, waiting for the sun to come up before I finally got up and the moment I opened the door, bright lights hit me in the eye and the realization dawned that it was already 10 am. Since we had already lost a couple of hours, we got up to speed and headed for Sentosa.

Sentosa islands must be on the itinerary for anyone visiting Singapore. Of all the various offerings on the islands, we headed to the Universal Studios and we decided to check out the others after that. Universal Studios holds you in awe from the moment you set foot in it. There are different sections with various themes in within which one is greeted with shops selling memorabilia while there are LIVE ACTS happening all around the respective theme. The excitement around is contagious and you become a part of the celebrations. We started off with a joyride in the Jurassic Park where or raft cruised into the river and T-Rex and family pop out from behind trees and foliage. The highlight of the ride was when our raft began to rise and a huge Dino appeared right in front of us and roared at us in the face and the raft suddenly dropped into a rapid and got us drenched. The ‘Far Far Away’ Shrek 4D movie is a must watch. The best joyride was ‘The Mummy’. This one took us at high speeds through an abyss of darkness, flinging us around every now and then. Phew!
By the time we stepped out of Universal Studios, it was 7pm and we decided to come back to Sentosa for the underwater world the next day. We joined our neighbors at the hostel , a Phillipino and 2 Australians, with Jim Beam and our evening progressed to late night.

6 sept 2010 (day 3):

Once bitten, twice shy; we set an alarm to wake us. We had set our itinerary to visit the zoo and thereafter the underwaterworld at sentosa. We travelled the MRT to Ang Mo Kio for the zoo. The Singapore zoo is an amazing for the various animals it houses. The wild cats section is quite fascinating and more so because the beasts are not caged. To view some creatures, we had to step into an enclosure and I wondered which was the beast among us. To greet the Cheetahs, there wasn’t even an enclosure. Though it was bounded with a low fence, I still do not cease to marvel at what stops a cheetah, with a determined will to kill, from scaling the low fence and running amok. Ivan had a field day capturing not just the big beasts but even caterpillars and the indescript likes that weren’t meant for intentional display.
We reached the Underwater world at Sentosa right in time for the dolphin show. Dolphins are childlike and fun loving; they respond well to humans and are easily cajoled by applause to put up a great show. It’s a great sight to watch them perform in sync. The aquarium was also spell-binding with big fishes moving all about us. The bright and colorful ones are a spectacular sight and it delighted me no ends.
Little India in Singapore was not at all on our list since the purpose of our trip was to experience other cultures and it was for the same reason that we had chosen to stay in China Town. However two days of Chinese food had us craving for Indian food and there we were headed for Little India for some good biryanis and beer among fellow countrymen.

Next day early morn was our flight to Vietnam and was I excited…

Check out the pics here: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/album.php?aid=221072&id=686198445&fbid=444007748445

Just another rainy day

2010-07-22T10:14:00.000-07:00

The alarm woke me up early morn so I could start my day by hitting the swimming pool. Even as I started to get up, one glance at the condensed window pane told me that it was pouring mighty hard outside and I rolled back in the same momentum hitting the bed with a plop. I woke up again later only to see that it was still raining and by the time I was ready to leave for work I was contemplating whether to take the bike to work or hail an auto. Usually I am glad at the prospect of riding in the rain, but I prefer to invoke that adventurous side on a holiday so that I can come back and get out of the wet clothes when I am home. The idea of wet clothes and shoes/socks at work is not appealing. Experience told me that it was futile to even think about looking out for an auto and it was best that I take my bike. So I pulled out of my building compound and I was pleasantly surprised to see four autos lined up outside the gate. I did the second u-turn of the day and parked my bike. And with a smile I headed to the nearest auto. “Amboli” I told him as I leaned to get inside. The Ass stops me as I try to wriggle in and informs me that his engine refuses to start. I walk to the other auto and before the first syllable “Amb” has left me, “No sir” he says. “Sir, my left fuckin foot, you bastard” I yell at him. I turn away to the other autos, and they are both engaged by other passengers now and as they move out, I did my third u-turn of the day. Terrific morning. I kick-start my bike and head to work. As I near Andheri station, my sight is more obscured by people than the rainwater hitting my face. People here. People there. People everywhere. If there is a thin line that distinguishes a pedestrian from a jaywalker, it was washed away by the rains today. Much as I wanted to do the fourth u-turn and head back home, I maneuver my way through the maze of people and finally reach office. At my workstation as I get my laptop out, Arun appears instantly with a steaming hot cup of ‘chai’. “Cheers” I say as I visualize ‘Rum’ in a glass and begin a wonderful day.

Can you take me higher?

2010-01-22T07:45:00.000-08:00

Of the seven solo flights that I managed during my CP course, the seventh one remains my favourite. I had already done a short flight earlier in the day and managed to top-land on Tower Hill. It was afternoon when I prepared to launch again. It was a bit thermic and the wind conditions had stabilized a bit after a gusty while. Ash, Kunal and Anand had already launched themselves and were soaring for sometime now. My attempt at launch was foiled by a strong gust and I prepared to launch again. The wind favoured my launch this time around and I was up there among the air traffic. Instructions from Steve were pretty clear that we were to fly with little or no instructions from him and any time we felt uncomfortable, we had to head towards the landing field. We were all flying around for a good while soaring by the ridge and occasionally drifting away to hunt for thermals.

About half an hour later, I saw that the surrounding sky was devoid of gliders save few, including mine. But I was sinking soon and my various attempts at scratching around for any thermal was in vain and I knew that before long I would have to head for the landing field as well. Even as I started to veer towards the landing field, Steve’s voice came alive on the radio instructing me to do just that. With a heavy heart (that seem to be pulling the glider to the earth even more), I steered the glider. And then it happened. I suddenly felt a tug on the glider as I got lifted momentarily. It was as if some giant had pinched the wing, pulling it up before releasing it again. All this while when I was hunting for the thermal, I couldn’t find it and now as I headed for the landing I had encountered it. I cursed as I was torn between two choices. I could either ignore the incident altogether and begin to approach the landing OR at the risk of offending Steve, turn around to take one dig at the thermal. At that very instance, Steve’s voice came over the radio acknowledging the lift and further instructing me to turn left and back into it again. Steve then instructed me over a series of 360s and I could feel my glider rising. Occasionally, during the 360s, when Steve urged me to pull more on the left brake, I was awestruck and the feeling that I was rotating almost parallel to the ground was overwhelming and it was accentuated whenever I saw a major portion of my wing out of the corner of my eye without any attempt at looking towards it. My heart was pounding in frenzied excitement as I continued executing 360s and rising with every maneuver. When, finally, Steve asked me to fly straight, I glanced about. Even as I was executing the 360s, I didn’t imagine that I would gain so much height. The launch area was directly below me and from where I was (approx. 300 mtrs above it), people appeared the size of ants. The landing field was a distant spot at approx. 500 mtrs. I did a 3-dimensional survey of my neighbourhood and with only my feather-winged friends for company, I settled in the harness to enjoy solitude in space, grasping the vastness of the horizon as far as my eye could behold. I was in the air for another good twenty minutes after which I had descended to a point where I had to head for the landing. Now I was satisfied with my flight so much so that if I had to encounter another thermal, I would have simply acknowledged it with a nod and continued on my course toward the landing field. Rather, this behaviour could be attributed to the fact that I had drained the contents (water) in my camel-bak during my flight and the liquid had percolated to my bladder and was trying to force its way out against my will. I executed a perfect landing in cross-wind conditions and after unfastening my harness straps, I headed to pay nature a visit.

CP, revelry and more.

2009-12-15T00:41:00.000-08:00

I am usually skeptical about long leave of absence from work since ‘chill out’ in its true sense leaves me more bored than anything else. However, when I decided to go on a leave for 10 days, I was excited since I had applied for the CP (Club Pilot) course in paragliding and it was to be my ‘dream come true’ of flying from high mountains and soaring for a long time.

Me and Ash left for Kamshet on the 27th November and on reaching the ‘Native Place’ at ‘Nirvana’, we met our third batchmate Kunal, while our fourth batchmate Anand was to meet us at the site the following morning. Though the four of us were not quite unfamiliar with each other, I didn’t in my wildest dreams imagine that we would gel so well as a group. Sanjay said we could party as much as we want for 2 days following which we were to be off booze and maintain an early bird schedule during the CP trainings; we followed his instructions to the ‘T’. We partied like crazy on the terrace for the first 2 days. Apart from us, there was a group from Sweden who had come to India for flying. Among them was DJ Atmos, who shared a wonderful collection of music that played while we partied. The second night was a Jam session as Anand had got his guitar and we had some more company from a group from Delhi that sung some and squealed some.

Our CP course commenced on Monday and we were up and moving by 6 am so we could get flying by the time the sun was up. It was an absolute fun experience as we had a wonderful instructor in Steve who would quip every now and then and be stern with his jibe when any one of us messed up. On reaching the site, Steve began with instructing us about the course and no sooner than he had finished that Kunal bombarded him with the first of his many questions to follow. Half an hour later Steve must have realized that we were still grounded and he figured out a wonderful way of getting of the question/answer session, not only for the day but also for the other days to come (Steve has not admitted this yet). He chose Kunal to be the first one to fly. In flying terms, the first one to go is called the ‘Wind Duffer’… rather ‘Wind Dummy’; ‘Wind Duffer’ was a term coined by me out of sheer jealousy (since they got to fly first) until I realized the brilliance of the idea behind it. Steve chose Ashwin as the second WD; guess Ash merited it. Since Steve had already made up his mind on the WDs of the group, he took them tandem first. While our WDs were having the sky to themselves, me and Anand were literally shackled to the ground to improvise on our ground handling techniques. The second day was good as we all got to fly for a bit. Third day was exceptional because of fabulous wind conditions and we got to fly while there were many paragliders in the air as well (air traffic). This was probably the day when Steve chided us all the most. Steve reprimanded us in this unique characteristic, the shades of which I have come across only in English novels. While he rebuked one of us for inattentiveness or gaffes, the others would inadvertently end up sniggering. I can’t help but recount a few here. An instance comes to mind when Ashwin was supposed to turn around left on the ridge, but kept going straight. The next moment we could hear Steve condemning him on our radios thus “For God’s sake, Ashwin, switch your brains on. Turn around left.” While we are left guffawing, Ashwin takes a silent left. There was a time when I was flying close to the ridge and I didn’t realize that I had to turn in order to make way for another glider ahead of me to turn. Steve’s voice comes hissing on the radio “Richard, why are you chasing the French lady? Turn around to your right unless you want to kill yourselves.” I don’t think Steve offered me an option there. And, I am beyond any doubt that the following conversation between Steve and Anand could find its way into the annals of business schools under the chapters of effective communication. Anand had landed after completing his flight and Steve commented on his flight to which Anand replied “Roger”.
Steve: “Who the fcuk is Roger?”
Anand: I mean I understand.
Steve: “Then why don’t you say so. #@& !#@^% &#$^ #%^^%. Do you understand?”
Anand: “Roger that!”
Steve: “#@& !#@^% *&#$^ #%^^%.”
If it weren’t for the chest strap and leg straps keeping me in check, I would have fallen off my harness.

I wouldn’t do it justice if I ignored this conversation between Steve and Kunal. On the final day, we had completed our flights and Steve had called us in the AV room to recount the points covered in the course. Once done, he asked us if we had any questions. Needless to say, Kunal pounced on the chance like a warrior with a polished sword, waiting only for a cue. He charged. Steve answered them all patiently. And Kunal asked. Infact he kept on asking even when it was Anand’s turn, Ashwin’s turn and my turn later. Once the Q&A session was over, Steve put on a video on paragliding that he wanted us to watch. Just as the video started playing, Kunal conjured up one more question and blurted, “Steve, I don’t understand…” “I know” said Steve before Kunal could go any further and walked away from the AV room leaving us in splits.

All our evenings were spent on the terrace and each one of them was laced with fun. Though, we played the guitar almost everyday, I particularly enjoyed on evening when a girl gang from Mumbai had come down to Kamshet. We were already done playing music and were having dinner when they arrived. One of them requested if we could play a couple of tracks and of course we relented. One song led to the next and before long it looked like we had only begun. While me and Ash played the guitar, the group lent their vocals to the songs played. If I get my hands on the video of this jam session that was shot by them (and I am promised a copy), I’ll definitely share it here.

Finally, I cannot express in words the gratitude I feel towards Steve, Sanjay, Ravi, Sandeep, Bond, Vinay and my three partners in flying i.e. Ash, Anand and Kunal, for making this a wonderful experience. Also, I cannot thank Pushkar enough for the lip smacking dishes served us during our stay. A week after I have come back to Mumbai, I still reminisce about everything that made this CP course special. And to add to it, I am still to come to terms about my longest flight that lasted 1hr.40mins. and my highest flight that took me 200-250 mtrs above the launch area (approx. 1500 feet above sea level). I look back and I say to myself “Wow!”

Click here to view pictures.

And if you are interested in flying/chilling out, you can log on to www.flynirvana.com/ and get details.

Behold! My name is .....

2009-08-25T07:19:00.000-07:00

“What’s in a name?” quotes Shakespeare in his popular works of Romeo and Juliet. Of course, he was alluding to the fact that a rose wouldn’t be any different if it was called a sunflower. Some fodder for the grey matter there, but of late I have come across people with some unusual names that I can’t help digging in the deep recesses of my memory to credit as many as I can remember.

Let’s begin at the beginning. When a couple brings a child into this world, I am positive, one of the first things that they as parents of a newborn do would be to discuss what to name it. You just can’t keep referring to it as ‘tch tch’ or ‘hey you’, for that matter. You also don’t name it ‘Surf XL’ or ‘Lays’ because you have not manufactured it; you have given birth to it. If a man has put in effort and if a woman has borne the child for nine months, it’s only fair that they spend an hour if not days to freeze on a nice name that the worthy child can carry it for the rest of its life.

Just the other day, I came across Perpetual, a cousin of mine, (Perpetual, as a name, has always been a muse when discussing names) and after the initial pleasantries were exchanged she launched on a barrage of everything unpleasant in life, so much so that despite valiant efforts on my part (which included flailing my arms in the air) to escape the incessant chatter, I was rooted to the spot. Poor me thought I was perpetually screwed… to the ground, I mean. Another name that baffles me is Immaculate and if I come across someone who’d introduce herself as “Hi. I’m Immaculate” I’d surely retort “What makes you think I’m not?”. A classmate of my brother went by the name Assumption. The list could go on but some people ought to have paid more attention in the grammar classes or should have been detained in the same class for another year if they could not tell the difference between an ‘Adjective’ and a ‘Proper Noun’. Equally amazed am I when come across people named after flowers e.g. rose, tulip et al. or colours like Pink, Violet etc., my only concern being one can get carried away and start naming children Burgundy or Bluish-green. A few years ago, on my trip to Kerala, I had come across a man whose name was Baby Jacob and no kidding about this. This was one Baby that was neither a girl nor a baby. This Baby was a towering 5’11”, had a rough and loud voice, sported a moustache and was forever seen in a lungi, an end of which he held in his left hand as he walked a masculine gait, partially exposing a hairy lower leg. I stopped referring to any girl as ‘Baby’. Another incident reminds me of how misled I was when I was in the eighth standard in school. I had always been under a preconceived notion that ‘Durgaprasad’ was the typical second grade eatery or restaurant in the bylanes of any streets in Mumbai until in std VIII, I came face to face with a bloke who went around with the same name and when we were introduced I couldn’t help but exclaim ‘Holy Prasad!’. I am reminded of yet another chap from std. VIII whose name was Y.P. Reddy. Even the teachers addressed him as YP. And if you are wondering why, YP had a unique first name which if one attempted to pronounce, would result in a knotted tongue in the mouth. If his elder brother is to be believed, it was on one of those days when YP was just born and his father had reached out and affectionately lifted him from the cradle when, without warning and in probably one of his mood swings, YP swung his leg and hit his father right in the family jewels. You don’t need a Sherlock Holmes to deduce how his father got even with him. Now he’s got a name he can’t pronounce and initials of which rhymes with ‘Why pee?’.

This reminds me of the time when my dad told me how I got my name. I was the first born and my parents were debating on what to name me. My dad had a list of names and when he discussed the list with my mom, she disapproved the list. She wanted her first born to have a typical regional name. My dad waved his list at mom; my mom counter argued. My dad recalled that even I raised objection to mom, but my wails from the crib fell on deaf ears. Just when it seemed like my dad was about to give in, one look at this helpless child gave him some inner strength and he stood his ground, refusing to be cornered. He launched a staunch tirade against mom till she relented, however with one condition that he would not have any say when naming future children. True to her word, she carried on with her threat and named my siblings that followed ‘Anita Lopez’ and ‘Preeti Lopez’ and I still get the shivers when I think about how narrowly I escaped being named something like ‘Ramu Lopez’.

Hey Dawg, don’t Bitch!

2009-07-24T05:47:00.000-07:00

Ajmal Amir Kasab needs no introduction. By the vile act committed by him and his cronies on 26/11 and amongst them, being the sole survivor, he has toppled every other loathsome creature to become the latest international face of a terrorist. Ever since he’s been captured, he’s been trying to play the cat and mouse game, with little or less regard to the Indian sentiments. Disillusioned even in captivity, I might add. Be it making unjustified demands for newspapers (dude, you ain’t put up in a luxury hotel) or pulling monkey faces in the midst of the trial (don’t blame you for that… I’ll pass). Now, he’s sprung another bolt from the blue by confessing his crime when it was least expected. Goes on record saying “My crimes were committed in this world and the people of this world should punish me. I do not want punishment from God” (dude, seriously, you must be kidding. This condition of yours is monumental, considering you are demanding absolution from the Almighty).

Spare us the sob story, mate. Your trigger happy days are over. Crimes committed by you deserve severe punishment. You are nothing but a murderer. You ain’t shown no mercy. You ain’t getting none. Hey Dawg, don’t bitch. Allow me.

Party time at Kamshet

2009-06-04T06:33:00.000-07:00

Needless to say we will all miss flying for a while. But it has been a fab season and we had all come down to Kamshet to bid adieu to the wonderful flying season and celebrate. For all who know Sanjay, Astrid and company, celebrations don’t need a reason and each day gone by is reason enough to make merry. And it is precisely why any visitor, a pilot or not, has a good time at the ‘Native Place’. However, the party on 30th May was a special occasion and it has been a ritual for years where the Nirvana gang gets together with the locals to host a ‘Puja’ to the Goddess for the advent of rains in the months to come. Me and Ash reached the Native place by noon, right in time for a coupla beers, some delicious pork vindaloo and chicken feast. After a snappy siesta, we were on our way to Shelar and we didn’t waste any moment to strap our harnesses on and begin ground handling. Like Anand, a co-pilot, said ground handling is an exhilarating experience and the joy of keeping the glider aloft while your feet are firmly planted on the ground knows no bounds. The place was swarmed with all of us enjoying the ground handling session. There was Noel, Apoorva, Dwayne the Daaku, Ashwin, everyone lost in trying to keep the glider overhead. I, for one, was making the most of the occasion and I was playing with the wings allotted to me with the enthusiasm of child at playtime. I lost track of the time till Vinay came up to me and said it’s time to pack up and party. Reluctant as I was to let go of the wings, the word ‘Party’ somehow struck a chord with something within me and I made my way back. Anand was having a gala time with his wings and he was probably the last person to come off the field. His enthusiasm reflected with the fact that unlike everyone who mushroomed the gliders and came off the field, Anand ran down the entire length of it with the glider aloft right to the point where we were all assembled. Some spirited performance that, and I’m sure he enjoyed every bit of it.

We all moved to the Shelar Mama’s abode. We also had the company of the Local guys and children who were eagerly waiting for the festivities to begin. While the children enjoyed the soft drinks we got started on the booze. Pushkar was behind the music console and he set the mood for the evening with a track called ‘Banao’. The guys had prepared a makeshift dance floor and as soon as the first track was over, someone requested the song ‘Main hoon Don’. The best part of the evening was that the local guys and the children wanted only three tracks to be played and the same was kept playing in a never ending loop. Since all of us wanted the local guys to enjoy, we played along. Someone did manage to squeeze in a coupla Rock n’ Roll tracks, but that was it. The music again went back to playing the same 3 songs in a loop and it wasn’t long before all of us were on the dance floor and everyone was enjoying the same 3 songs and no one gave a damn. Never in my life did I imagine that one day I would dance to the title song from the Jitendra movie ‘Tohfa’ and really enjoy it. The evening was an absolute riot. Another highlight of the evening was the dinner which was meat cooked on wood and there was a flavor to it that simply enhanced the taste. After a fun-filled evening we headed back to the native place which played host to the fireflies at night. We switched off the lights and enjoyed a few more beers in the company of the fireflies. The evening ended with celebrating Dwayne the Daaku’s birthday in the pool. The next morning, as we all started for our homes, I felt that I simply cannot get enough of this place. I am sure everyone felt the same. Astrid assured us that we will all meet again during the monsoons. I am looking forward to it.

For more pictures, Click here

Trekking the Skies

2009-01-06T03:17:00.000-08:00

Video: My First Flight

For the last three years ash and I have been planning to go paragliding. Call it lack of time or fear of the unknown that kept us from taking the penultimate decision of packing our bags and simply heading out. It was definitely not the fear of the sport though, for there have been one too many an occasion where we have put our heads together and discussed the feeling of flying amongst the birds. During this period, whenever opportunity for a getaway presented itself, we just packed our bags and headed out to Goa. This year, however, when Diwali holidays drew near, Ash was more than determined to go to Kamshet for paragliding. Probably, the steadfastness in Ash’s attitude was more influenced by the fact that he was now engaged to be married and he wanted desperately to take the leap (from the mountain) before taking the final plunge (into marriage). Whatever the cause, the day arrived when we headed out to Kamshet for our P1 course (P1 is the 5 day training program where they teach one the basics of the glider, to control the glider and one gets 10 solo flights from top of a cliff… sounds exciting? Trust me, there’s more excitement to it than I could fairly describe.)

It was a Friday afternoon when we left from Mumbai and by the time we reached Kamshet market it was 6:30pm. We decided to take the last ST bus to Nirvana Flying Club that was scheduled for 8pm. The trip from Kamshet market to Nirvana Flying Club was fabulous with the bus plying on what seemed more like a toe path than a road and we, the highly fortunate ones seated on the last seat, were thrown from one end of the bus to the other during the entire 20-30 minute ride. Our adventure had begun. The bus was filled with locals and we asked the guys on the adjacent seat to inform us when our destination was within reach which they gladly did. When we stepped out of the bus, we were pleasantly surprised when all the people seated on the left side of the bus had their hands out guiding us in the direction to Nirvana. That’s when we termed the village ‘The Vodafone Village’ i.e. the village with people who were always ‘Happy to help’.

The moment we set foot inside the native place, for that’s what the bungalow and its villas are collectively called as and to add substance to it, the entire panorama is rustic and one simply cant help experiencing the immediate connect and oneness with nature what with pebbles strewn across the centre, bamboo shoots, dim lights and the soft house music teasing the ears. Nothing I could write will do justice to it and I will simply not attempt to do it any further. You must simply experience it to believe it. We met Sanjay, the owner and he directed his guys to set us up in our rooms and invited us to the terrace where all the visiting pilots and the budding pilots like us were gathered for a party. We freshened up, took our beers and joined them like a wind. It didn’t take us long to mingle with the other pilots and it was moments before we felt as if we’ve known all of them for years. We partied till 12 in the night and after some good chup-chup, read dinner, we hit the sack as we had to assemble early morning at 0530 hrs to head out for the site where we’d get our first lessons on handling the paraglider. Enthused as we were about our first day, we woke up at 0430 hrs to a cold early morning as we anticipated there’d be a mad rush among our room mates to make it to the shower. Ash and me took our turns at the shower and I was intrigued to my wits’ end when our room mates were still cozy in their beds even at 0500 hrs while we were all prepped and ready to go. ’twas only by 0515 hrs that there was rustling everywhere and everyone drycleaned and propped themselves in the hall by 0530. I had learnt my first lesson in paragliding i.e. when you party late into the night, grab as much sleep as you can; you always get you chance to shower when you come back tired and covered in grime later. The first two days, we were taught all about controlling the glider when you are on the ground (ground handling). What seems simple at first sight was a bit difficult but with continuous attempts all of us managed it right. The third day was more eventful when we were taken to a small hill and instructed to go halfway up and once our glider was laid out and safety checks were carried out, we had to inflate the glider and run down the hill like there was no tomorrow. Of course, we were continuously being instructed on the radios strapped on our persons by Sanjay, who ensured that the blunders committed by us amateurs were kept in check (Sanjay is one no nonsense dude and for him the safety of all the pilots is paramount; hats off to him). This was again a day where we got our first instance of flying as the glider lifted us fairly off the ground for some decent time and it made us all the more eager for our flights from top of the hill. I even twisted my ankle during one of these attempts but that didn’t deter me in my pursuit of flying. Sanjay ensured that I was absolutely fit before he allowed me to take my flight from the top. I got my first flight from the top (approximately 120 ft high hill) on my birthday and that made it an extra special flight to be cherished for a very long time. My eagerness to fly dispelled any feelings of anxiety and I was filled with a fervor to join others who had already experienced flying. When my turn arrived, Ravi gave me instructions to be followed, charted my flight course to the landing and I was ready for the launch. With my glider inflated I began my run downhill. I recollected a wise guy saying ‘Flying is all about aiming for the ground and missing it’. And before I could say ‘Kazaam’, I was lifted off the ground and I was saying hi to the birds. Sanjay’s voice cackled on the radio asking me how I was feeling and I guffawed back in delight, telling him how wonderful and top of the world I felt; I enjoyed the entire flight course till my feet found ground and even beyond. My first flight will remain etched in my memory forever and it will remain my best Birthday gift. Later on, we accompanied the Nirvana gang to Tower hill (approximately 900 ft high hill) where they usually go for long flights (the tandem flights are also conducted here). The Wind Gods were smiling and the sky was abundant with paragliders with wings of different hues that made a spectacular sight. It was eye candy to watch all the pilots soaring and performing some extraordinary stunts in the sky. Some of them were whizzing past the ridge at speeds I didn’t imagine a glider was capable of. Others who were at a distance were spiraling, performing wing-overs and a few were just out there to enjoy and have their time with the birds and the bees (this is meant to be taken at face value and has no relation to the phrase bearing the same). The trip to Tower Hill was captivating and the adrenaline rush that it induced is enough for me to look forward for P2 course where I’ll be taught to soar for hours at a stretch.

And if you are interested in trekking the skies, you can log on to www.flynirvana.com/ and get details. Trust me, you’ll have the time of your life. Thank you Sanjay, Astrid, Ravi, Sandeep, Bond, Vinay and everyone at Fly Nirvana for an exihilarating experience.

Dawning woes!

2008-06-21T11:40:00.000-07:00

On drinks yesterday, me, Ivan and Ash got nostalgic about our school days, the good times ofcourse and an educational hazard…. Ummm, it actually doesn’t concern education at all but our school timings, after the fourth grade, inevitably got us to bear the brunt (here I speak for myself). All my happiness of progressing to the fifth grade, and finally getting to wear full length trousers for my school uniform instead of the awful chaddee (short pants) that we were forced to wear till the fourth grade vanished when I had to wake up to this music that found its way to my delicate ear drums and reverberated through my dreams till my dreams were smashed to smithereens. The music is a piece of classical composition and many have written rave reviews about the same and people still get nostalgic and reminisce about the time when they used to wake up to this piece playing on the radio even before the smell of the coffee could reach one’s nostrils. In fact, the music was so synonymous to the break of the Indian dawn that even the friendly neighborhood cock stopped bothering about looking to the east for sunrise and crew only when the music had impregnated the ether with its resonance. Even when I finally managed to convince my parents to not turn on the radio so early in the morn, the music crept through the atmosphere from one the many radios in the neighborhood. A naïve kid that I was (and I remember my school pals also agreed with me), I was of the firm opinion that a school going child should not be subjected to this brain numbing tune everyday when he is preparing for a new day at school and trying to work out ways of convincing his classmate Carol that he is the one for her. Yesterday, I found two new sympathizers in Ivan and Ash, when we discussed this music as a part of our school going lives. Ash strongly believes that it played an important part in his academic career, or the lack of it. Ivan remembers hurling brickbats at the neighboring milkman who never failed to turn on the radio beforehand. And I lost Carol to a good friend of mine (till that day) who woke up to MJ every morning on his tape recorder. And if you are still wondering why, click on the play button and needless to say, turn your speakers on.

No Honking on 7th April

2008-03-20T08:51:00.000-07:00

Yeah! It’s an initiative taken by the traffic authorities to curb noise pollution in the city and I’ll do my bit by avoiding the yellow button on my bike. My friend Paul, a married man (my sympathies) expressed his opinion that the initiative to keep the noise in check should not be limited to traffic; the same to be extended to grumbling wives as well.

Veering back from the dangerous wives to our safer roads, I have already started to avoid honking and I only reach out for the horn when absolutely necessary. And to be honest, I’ve not yet drawn the line that will define ‘Absolutely Necessary’. The last two days since I’m observing controlled aggression on the roads, if it can be called so, I’ve come across many instances which, only days before, would have made me involuntarily reach out for the blaring horn... hmmm... I’m wondering if I could call it blaring ‘coz my bike actually lets out a meek beep for its horn and if put to a test, it can even be humbled by a bleating sheep. Two instances from the last two days should be enough to tell you how serious I am about avoiding the horn (or the beep), though I was never honk happy. The first was when I was headed home yesterday. It was around 11pm when there was less traffic on the roads and much less pedestrians and I was doing a casual 40kms on my bike when, without warning, a pedestrian decided to cross the road without as much as looking behind for oncoming traffic. Though, he was at a distance, just about enough for me to apply my brakes to avoid him, and which I did, I avoided using the horn and yelled ‘OYE!’ at him. That was enough to send him scurrying back to the footpath and the scared look on his face that my ‘OYE!’ triggered gave me immense glee. The second instance was early morning today on my way to the office. The traffic at Andheri station was bumper to bumper and I kept my bike on the left where I could negotiate it through narrow gaps left between the footpath and the other vehicles when I came across a girl walking gaily, not on the footpath but on the only part of the road from whence me and the other bikes could escape the traffic, thus obstructing our mobility. I gave a meek beep, to no avail. Much as I wanted to, I resisted the urge to keep my thumb on the horn. Instead I roared ‘OH AUNTY!’ and that remark seemed to draw her out of her thoughts, if she was thinking any. She scowled at me in a way that said she expected me to melt away instantly. However, I didn’t and thankfully, she gave way for me and the other bikes to pass. But, am I glad to have resisted the impulse to honk. As long as jaywalkers infest the streets, the desire to honk out loud is bound to surface.

Nevertheless, these instances would not deter me and I continue to play my own small part in the just cause to keep noise pollution in check, not just for that one day to come, but for all the days henceforth.

Hair today, gone tomorrow!

2008-03-01T00:13:00.000-08:00

I enter. I look. I want to do the u-turn and scram like there’s no tomorrow. Beat it. Shoo. Thoughts implore me to make it for the door and out, but I stand my ground.

It’s been two years since I’ve been growing my hair and now my locks fall below my shoulder blades (why am I even thinking about blades here). Though I had sported long hair right from my college days, I’ve never grown it long enough to sport a pony tail. This is the first time that I’ve grown my hair this long and it’s an awesome feeling to let your hair down when there’s a breeze blowing or go headbanging when at a rock concert. Now, as I stand inside the salon, I wonder if I’d do the right thing to chop it off. The barber (or the hair stylist, whatever term each of us is familiar with) with his pair of scissors looks more to me like a barbarian wielding a sword. As I wait my turn, a part of me tells me that I’d do better to get the job done tomorrow. However, I was glued to the seat and when my turn came, I moved animatedly to the seat where there’d be some action. I couldn’t disguise the contempt in my voice when I told the barbarian to chop it off. Having told him how I wanted my hair cut, I gasped in horror as the first snips took away huge chunks of me, off me. I simply closed my eyes and relaxed (or at least tried to) even as my ears picked the frenzied hacking and slashing sounds taking place in the vicinity and transmitted them to my brain like some journalist reporting ‘Breaking News’ LIVE. Every time I opened my eyes, I could but feel remorse for the guinea pig reflected by the mirror. Now there was no looking back and when I actually tried, the barbarian rebuked me for behaving like a three year old. After what seemed like an eternity, his job done, I saw him appreciating his work of art like a gardener who had finished working on a hedge. Though I wanted to comment on the same, words failed me; the damage was long done. And somehow, I thought it wouldn’t matter to him. Never before did I think that my face resembled the moon for its shape and now when I looked in the mirror it looked mooner than the moon.

After the tryst with the barbarian, the first person (and not the only one) to express shock and disbelief at my appearance was the one I’d least expected to. My mom.

Catastrophe

2008-02-29T23:52:00.000-08:00

Wedding Blues?

2008-01-17T06:48:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I accompanied my mother to wedding, that of a neighbor from Bhandup (where I resided earlier and spent the better part of my life to date). It has been four years since I shifted to Andheri and from the time I’d shifted, I’ve been to Bhandup only twice. So, I was expecting to meet most of my childhood friends, if not all, at the wedding reception. And so I did. Not only my friends but also the elders, whom we fondly referred to as uncles and aunties. Also, expected was the fact that I’d have to face the evitable questions from those folks “So, when are you getting married?”

This question has been asked me numerous times and I’m used to answering it depending on the occasion and the person asking it.

Here I’m listing down a few of my reactions to the forbidden yet oft asked question:

My favorite answer to that question is: I’m lucky, I guess.

Married? What’s that? (Yesterday, I was shameless enough to reply with this, even as I was attending the reception of one ;)

Sometimes, when asked the question, I complement the person for his/her attire, thus veering the person away from the topic.

Many a times I break into a run without replying and steer as far away as possible.

Yesterday, when a girl asked me the question, I replied: I thought you’d never ask. She scooted. I did too, albeit in the opposite direction.

P.S.: I’m running out off answers to the question. Any further alternatives are welcome and will be appreciated.

I am...... So am I.

2007-12-03T03:19:00.000-08:00

It’s been a while since I blogged and as I put pen to paper, rather fingers to the keyboard, (me thinks that the pen and paper expression would do well only in archaic folders now) it feels rather odd. Krash used to coax me to continue blogging. Rod once taunted me by calling me an R.I.P. blogger. Despite this, I wouldn’t: not that I cared a damn. A part of me always wanted to continue updating my blog space while the other part always procrastinated and we all know which prevailed. I wonder why I postpone things which I would really want to do.

Now that I’ve finally got over my other half and I continue writing, I smile to myself and say 'see, its the victory of good over evil'. 'What rot' chides my other half, 'By the way, do you remember you have four tasks still lined up before you call it a day?' Omigosh! I minimize my blog and get on with my work. But, before I wind up, I am determined to at least write something and I can almost hear myself say 'Hey! We can do this tomorrow, you see.' I keep going, all the more determined to finish what I started. Now when I’m satisfied with what I’ve got, I think about the other voice that keeps me from doing what I want. I shrug and laugh out loud at the thought that I’m a schizophrenic.... 'So am I.'

Rumours!

2007-04-09T05:00:00.000-07:00

Rumours can work wonders. It can ruin you beyond salvation, but if proved baseless it can also raise you to a level previously conceived improbable, if not impossible. Such was the state of affairs at Maina Gul on Thursday that a curious whisper from a colleague in the office went from ear to ear before it spread like wild fire. Word got around that Ash, the most eligible bachelor in town er. . in Amboli… hmm..Maina Gul, who had accompanied his parents to Mangalore had got engaged. That set the cat among the pigeons; would resentment among girls be a better expression? I guess that would explain things literally, but i would stick to cat among pigeons. To get back to the point, tongues were wagging incessantly. Girls began to voice their opinion openly that they did not approve of this ungentlemanly behaviour. Of course, when pretty young things engage cupid to aim their love darts at you, the one thing that you are not expected to do is sneak off to Mangalore and get yourself engaged. Little wonder then that when Ash entered office, work ground to a halt. The questions hurled at Ash intensified with every passing moment though shutterbugs were kept at bay. Even stout denials from Ash were met with accusing stares. It was only when the near and dear ones intervened and an official statement, to the effect that Ash still remained an eligible bachelor, was released that the raging storm was quelled. Amboli, if not Andheri, heaved a collective sigh of relief. Ash now rose to a level unequaled. Accusing stares are again replaced by loving glances shot through fluttering eyelids. Pretty young things have again started engaging the services of cupid to hurl love darts at Ash. In a nutshell, it's business as usual.

DDW celebrates eight years!

2007-03-30T08:12:00.000-07:00

The hangover’s died out. When I say this, I mean the hangover of the booze has.

Its five days since we have returned from our annual offsite. The three days at Murud Janjira were absolutely fun packed and spiced with incidents, many of which I remember and some that I don’t. We left office at around 4 in the evening and Raghu and Ivan made us assemble at the gate. They had arranged for some gunny bags and the bus was parked at a distance. We all had to step into the gunny bag and hop across to the bus. The fun had begun and it was a sight to behold, even for the people who were passing by but decided it was a better idea to play spectators to people playing Kangaroos. It was a while before everybody had boarded the bus; the singing had started before the bus moved and by the time we reached Sion the Vodka, Rum, Whisky and the Beer bottles were out. We reached the Resort at Murud by 11pm and we refreshed and assembled at 12 to raise a toast to DDW for completing 8 years. Minutes later, we could make out one voice above the din and it belonged to Vikas. Vikas had gone Ting-Tong i.e. he was sozzled. Moments later we had to drag him to his bed. A couple of rounds later, we all decided to call it a day as Ivan and Raghu had planned some activity for the morrow and we went to check on Vikas before we hit the sack. Vikas was changing his position on the bed so frequently that he was almost rotating and I was filled with a desire to switch off the fan and suspend him from the ceiling instead and conserve electricity. The next day our people threw a bucket of water on him to awaken him. He took it in the right spirit, the gentleman that he is. That day we were split into groups and each group had to make a presentation. It was eventful and fun but I won’t go into depth here. Night was again booze and music and dance. However, I had developed a headache and I hit the sack early.

The next morning Ivan and Raghu split us again into teams with me leading the Ferrari team, Ash leading the Red Bull team ('Double Bull' team, as he preferred to call it when he was a Double vodka down and 'Bull Shit' Team as we perceived it), Mel leading the Toyota team and Santosh leading the McLaren team. We were sent on a treasure hunt with clues leading to other clues back to back. Though my team was the last to leave the compound, we managed to gain lost ground when all the teams had to go to the market for the other clues and the autorickshaw that we hailed took us hither-tither at Ferrari speed. Team Ferrari was the first to reach the treasure and we won a gift voucher for a cool Rs. 5000. Celebrations for the win began and the booze started flowing while simultaneously we started playing a game of underarm cricket. I cannot recollect when I got drunk. One of the pictures, which captured me bowling, is enough to convince me that I was. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought that it’s a picture of someone trying to offer a piece of meat to some croc and is ready to spring back in case the croc decides to go for a bigger chunk. However we won the match too; don’t ask me how. We headed out to the beach and after some good fun in the water, we came back to the resort. This was where the camera captured me as the pirate, Capn. Jack Popat. After a good shower, we played a stupid game which involved passing the mint Polo using only the toothpicks in our mouth. Little wonder then, the pictures leave an impression of a party for ‘Happy’ people. I went to my room and grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep before I joined the gang for the party around the bon-fire. After a while, we started playing cards and lady unluck, miss fortune, simply refused to leave my side at I lost a good deal. We partied till wee hours in the morning and I had only gone to sleep when they woke me up so we could head back to Mumbai. I do not recollect taking the shower, but people tell me I did. I was having difficulty in packing my bag and my dear friend Ivan came to my aid. That ass simply dumped everything in. Before long I felt the sling on my shoulder and we were on our way out. We had lunch at Patilwadi before we took the route to Mumbai and as I boarded the bus I made myself a Tribal Mix(vodka in the bottle of a soft drink). Mel joined me in boozing and after a couple of good ones, I was on a roll again. I was full of the right SPIRIT but filled with the wrong one. I was blurting out stupid cracks and having a good time laughing and frolicking when the Guru Dutt in Ash came to the fore and he decided to go on the wrong side of the lens and capture all. Ash now has enough dope on me to blackmail me for a long time. I’m glad that the videos featuring me are not uploaded on the net. Thank God for small mercies. If my antics were revealed to my mom, I’m left with no doubt that she would disown me and expel me from the house with immediate effect. It’s been the best picnic for me in a very long time.

We were celebrating eight years and I was on cloud nine.

P.S.: I’m feeling terribly lazy to upload the pictures of the picnic. Those of you who wanna take a peek can check ‘em out at where my dear friend Ash has uploaded it. The sequence is page 4 bottom to page 1 up. Please do not check ‘em at http://www.flickr.com/photos/57218147@N00/page4/

2007-03-21T07:48:00.000-07:00

My nights are becoming sleepless
My days are becoming restless
I asked God "Is this Love"
God said "Idiot.. Garmi shuru ho gayi hai!"

What do you think?

2007-03-18T06:54:00.000-07:00

http://www.f1india.com/blogs/?p=12

Cut a long story short?

2007-03-18T06:52:00.000-07:00

Happened to be at a friend’s place yesterday. Dude’s a nice chap. He’s a guitarist and he’s best when he’s at it. And he can belt out as many words in a staccato as he can the notes from his guitar. Give him a chance to speak and I’ll be damned if you can even manage a “uh-huh” in between. I’ve heard Ash tell him on numerous counts that he suffers from verbal diarrhoea. What makes it interesting listening is the witty ones he dishes out from time to time. He can narrate the script of a slow art movie and make it sound like a thriller. Yesterday evening, he invited us over to his place to watch an inspirational movie about a musician chasing her dream. Our drinks were out on the table and so were the ham and salami (Dude’s a good host as well). Before we begin the movie we raise our glasses and Dude launches on a prelude to the movie and I begin to wonder if I am really gonna get a chance to see it. Fifteen minutes of blabbering and fortunately the remote comes out and we are on a roll. However, we are not even five minutes into the movie and our Dude pauses the movie and begins a lecture on the sequence about to follow. I realize this was the first of the many intermittent ‘pauses’ to follow and I wonder if I’ll have to come back the next day to watch the other half. If I thought my granma was the only one I knew who would divulge the ‘end of a movie’ before we watched it, I now stand corrected. Today, I see my granma in a different light; she only disclosed the climax of a movie. Our Dude outdid my granma. It took us four and a half hours to watch the movie and I don’t know why I get the feeling that I’ve seen the movie twice.
Phew, that was one helluva long movie.

That puffa smoke!

2007-02-24T02:29:00.000-08:00

I have stopped smoking. I don’t use the word quit. The first time that I actually stopped, I went around telling people proudly that I quit and that I finally got myself rid of this ghastly habit, only to fall flat on my face when someone casually passed me that not-so-harmless-looking drag in between rounds of drinks. The first drag always gets you strapped to the seat and before you know it you are on a roller coaster ride. Its that time of the year when I manage to stop smoking and its been three days since I have even bothered to look at it. Its really easy to keep away from smoking as long as you stay away from the first drag. Occasionally, ofcourse, there is this urge that makes you want to buy the tobacco stick from the oh-so many shops where it can be procured. Today is just one of those days. I see a guy approaching me with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He comes up to me and asks “You got a match?” “Yeah” I say to him before I walk away. “My butt, your face.”

Splash!

2007-02-16T03:45:00.000-08:00

It was late Sunday afternoon. Glenn and Paul (names changed to conceal their identity, lest they get offended) accompanied me to meet Ash at his club and after a coupla hours of playing table tennis, we decided to hit the swimming pool while Ash decided to join the clowns on the treadmill who simply run like crazy without reaching anywhere. While I waded into deeper waters, Glenn and Paul contented themselves by remaining close to the edge at 4 ft depth with the railing at an arm’s length. I do not lay any tall claims to be a professional swimmer myself, but I guess I am comfortable in water. These guys reminded me of my earlier days in the pool, when I did the same. Once, after shedding my inhibitions, I had ventured into deeper waters when I developed cramps in my feet. I started beating at the water in a frenzy and I almost drowned myself and another person who happened to be close at hand. However, he saved himself and in the process managed to save me. According to my friends who were around, it was quite a sight.

When I looked towards Paul and Glenn, I saw that they were arousing more than a passerby’s curiosity. They were definitely upto something and it wasn’t swimming. It was as if they were competing to see who among them could make the most splashing noise. They were in sync with each other. One would be forgiven for assuming that these guys had taken it on themselves to drain the swimming pool of water. If these guys were seeking attention, they had it, and if a waiter is to be believed, even from people dining in a restaurant on the fourth floor of the clubhouse. If only it was internationally acknowledged an impossible feat to send the water at eighteen ft from a shallow depth of 4 ft, these guys have done our country proud. If a tsunami could be created in a swimming pool, the credit goes to these guys. If these guys are left to do their number in the Arabian Sea, they would attract the attention of a shark in the Pacific. If you think I've used an if too many in the last few sentences, you've no idea about the spectacle I've been an eyewitness to.

I made a shy exit from the swimming pool.

grrrr!

2007-02-10T17:16:00.000-08:00

It is a li’l past eight in the evening and I’m headed home after a hectic day at work. I am at Andheri station on the east and I find myself among the sea of bobbing heads easing through, nudging and occasionally trampling on people’s feet on the way home. Andheri East at this time, if one was afforded an arial view, would resemble a carnival so much so that one should look with pity on the guy, rather than with scorn, who actually mistook it for one and is caught in the melee with no escape route in sight. Not that Andheri West is any better.
The day that had started off well took a nasty turn when there was an electricity failure at my office and not one nor two but three clients called in succession, inquiring about the jobs that were to be emailed to them and each of them apparently oblivious to the fact that without electricity, the computers do not function. Clients are impossible at times and when I told a lady (without doubt, a client) that she was being one, she giggled.
Even when the electricity was restored, there was no reprieve as jobs that had piled up since morn, were lined up and the calls from the clients never ceased. Finally, when I called it a day, I decided to walk it down to Andheri station and now here I am, a part of the throng. I manage to break away, hail an autorickshaw and I reach home, but not before getting caught up in numerous traffic snarls. I join six people in an elevator meant for five and I wonder if claustrophobia assumes any significance in Mumbai.
I hope I get to watch some TV. I hope I get to watch some TV. I open the door. Golly, my brother is already at it. He’s watching some movie where a race is about to begin.
On your marks… get set… go away!

travel travail

2007-02-03T02:14:00.000-08:00

I hailed an autorickshaw and after telling the driver about my destination, I had only stepped in when he switched the radio on. As a rule, I usually ask the rickshaw drivers to turn the music off since most of them only play contemporary hindi music that plays on your soul like some chainsaw on timber. Today, however, was an exception where the track belted out was one from an old hindi movie and I let the speakers do their number while I mused that "VIDEO never really killed the RADIO star". My ravings were cut short and I was jarred into my senses when a cacophony of instruments, perceived by some as music, hit my eardrum till I thought my ear was going to bleed. A human voice accompanied it and it went "oooooh" and I immediately recognized it as belonging to the chap who sang, with a nasal twang. Listening to the voice, one cannot help wondering if The Creator, after downing a couple of stiff ones and probably in his haste to complete the job at hand, shoved the throat up this chap's nose. Another word that goes around has it that its not the Providence to be blamed at all; the chap, as a young devil at three, had tried swallowing a nut through the nose and it got stuck somewhere in the deep recesses enroute. It is indeed commendable of this man with a voice like it, that he has not just managed to survive it but also made a living out of it. I personally know of atleast 27, if not more, people who would give anything to take the hose of a vacuum cleaner, stick it up his nose, and suction off anything in sight at full power. Though his music and his voice play an integral part for people wanting to do it, we must not deprive the lyrics its due credit. I politely asked the autorickshaw driver to turn off the radio and it was only moments later that we came to a halt and as I paid the driver, I could perceive from without another track from the same chap with his all too familiar nasal voice and the trademark "oooooh". It didn't take me long to realize that some other autorickshaw driver, in the vicinity, was enjoying the song to an extent that he was playing it full volume, probably for the benefit of the deaf. I alighted and I was so irritated that when I set my sights on a fat ugly kid playing in the mud by the side, his trouser seat looked as inviting as a football asking for it: I could sense my leg twitch. However, decency and better sense prevailed. I merely gave it a tap, which sent the ugly kid rolling in the mud twice before he did the finest imitation of a cockroach on its back. It was only after I had covered much ground that I was entirely cut off from that voice bleating those senseless lyrics. Talk about lyrics; reminds me of what some wise guy once said and it goes: "Anything too stupid to be recited is sung."

Oooooh.... how trooooo!

Whadda trip down memory lane!

2007-01-15T03:30:00.000-08:00

The trip to Goa in Dec. 2005 that me and my dear friends, Ash and Paul, embarked on is arguably the most memorable one, and it only serves to remind our passion and love for the state.
Allow me to begin at the beginning. It was 30th December, around 9 in the evening that me and Paul met Ash at a restaurant in Andheri for a drink and to plan for the celebrations for the New Year. The first pegs downed, the spirit caressing some part of our minds, the conversation was safely doing rounds of some happening parties and we only had to settle down on one, when Paul suggested New Year at Goa. By this time, it was so late that any hopes of catching the last bus or train to Goa were dashed. If the suggestion wasn't bold enough, Paul went a step further by recommending travel on motorbikes and in a matter of minutes we were putting our heads together and weighing the pros & cons for the trip. By now, we had abandoned thoughts of every other party so much so that not even fragments of the earlier conversation lingered and before we knew it, we had all said "Aye Aye" to the trip. We stopped drinking ALMOST immediately and proceeded to our respective homes to pack our bags and get some rest. At 4am on December 31st, we met at Paul's place. Paul had already searched the internet for a map detailing the road route and had a printout ready. By 4:30, we commenced our trip.
Among one of the highlights of the trip was that since my pulsar bike was causing problems, I was riding my sista's Kinetic Zing, which is a light bike and has a maximum speed o' 80 km/hr. What the #@*&#? I know, but at that time it somehow seemed like a good idea. And it was the least of our worries. Paul was riding his Pulsar and Ash acompanied him as the pillion rider. After withdrawing money from our respective ATMs, we filled up our fuel tanks at the Sakinaka gas station and proceeded on our journey. The weather was very cold; chillll-led, as Satan would say it. We had not even crossed the city limit and we were shivering down to our timbers. Only the liquid in our bladders was adamant and refused to freeze, and we had to stop twice to take a leak before we reached the Vashi toll naka. On crossing the toll naka, we were smooth sailing, or should it be riding (damn my habit to beat around the bush) except for the fact that we had to stop a coupla times more before we reached a flyover which we took. It was only after ten minutes on the flyover that we realized that we had missed the right turn to Goa and we were actually on the Mumbai-Pune Express way. After the initial bouts of slandering and hurling curses at each other and "blame thy neighbour" stuff, we turned our bikes around and made the distance back to the point where we could exit the Express way (For those who have not been on the Express way, it is lined with a divider which does not allow you a U-turn; we had to travel the distance back in the wrong direction and more importantly 'TWO WHEELERS ARE NOT ALLOWED' on the Express way). Once we took the exit, we went to a restaurant and had steaming cups of tea in the hopes of thawing our insides. It only worked momentarily, for the moment we stepped out and mounted our bikes, we were shivering like leaves in the breeze and I wished we had carried some RUM with us. Once back on the right track, we did not stop till we had crossed the toll naka at Pen and we would have continued relentlessly, had it not been for a bonfire that caught Paul's attention. We parked our bikes and hovered around the bonfire till it got us warm right upto our family jewels. By this time it was already 7 am, and we still had a long way to travel. Once warm, we were again on our way. Ash relieved me from riding and I joined Paul as the pillion rider. We were still a good distance from Chiplun and it was almost 10 am when Paul's bike had a flat tyre and we had to drag it to a garage to fix it. Now people, Paul is a braveheart and I figure when you have to drag your bike through a good distance before you come a place inhabited by humans and then finally find someone amongst them who can actually fix a flat tyre, doubts start creeping in and even the strongwilled start developing jellyfeet. And Paul was no exception. Once the tyre was fixed, Paul started reasoning with us on whether it was actually a good idea to continue. Ash and me debated with Paul, trying to convince him that it was so and again the environment experienced the heat as a flurry of abuses were hurled at each other. Hats off to Paul as he endured every bit of what was being said but he simply held his ground and refused to budge. Finally Ash and me gave in and with a heavy heart, we did a roundabout and started our journey back to Mumbai. We took many pit-stops on our way back, and Ash was having a ball in abusing Paul for succumbing and we were laughing and enjoying the ride all the way back. Finally it was 5 pm by the time we reached Mumbai and we simply headed out to our respective homes to freshen up and again team up to attend a party at a friends place, which we had earlier rejected in favour of Goa. We brought in the New Year with a blast. As for the trip, it was a hell of an experience with a thrill unmatched. To top it all, I didn't have my driving licence on my person during the entire journey. Ask Ash!!!