Goa :) so aah! – a travellogue: part 5

Well, after loads of parasailing fun on Day 3 @ Goa and more breathtaking moments on the same Day 3 @ Goa, we were ready to bid adieu to Old Goa. On our way back, we had planned to take a walk through the streets of Panaji, visit the Our Lady Of The Immaculate Conception Church, and see some typical Goan houses!

Being New Year eve, the streets were all lit up, and the road leading to the church, in particular, was beautiful

The road leading to Our Lady Of The Immaculate Conception Church, Panaji

One of the first churches built in Goa, it was the landmark for sailors to offer thanks for a safe anchoring. It was initially built in 1541 and later re-built in 1619.

The bell we see and hear today at this church was brought from the belfry tower of the St Augustine Complex of Old Goa in 1871. Apparently, it is the second largest bell in the world!

The church is truly beautiful at night.

The Christmas crib in front of the church...

The God family

View from the Church

After sitting around on the benches built on the pavement in the centre of the road, for about 10 mins, we set off for a walk to see Goan houses. While most of them resembles the houses back home in Kerala — with their red soil roof tiles and open verandahs and pretty houses with coconut trees in the yards — we did get to see some very typical Goan homes too…

A Goan home...

A Goan home...

A Goan home...

A Goan home...

A Goan home...and my fav of the lot

A Goan home...

After we had enough of Goan houses, we set off for another drive down the road connecting the Mandovi Bridge to the Miramar Beach. Pretty pretty buildings, clean clean pavements and a smooth smooth road!

On the way back, we stopped to see some really beautiful cruise ships floating on the Mandovi.

The wide, wide, really wide walkway that runs in between the road and the river

Them cruise boats and ships on the Mandovi...

The Casino Carnival -- the best there was on the Mandovi from where we stood

Well, that was a New Year eve well spent and enjoyed: but it wasn’t over yet. We had one more thing to celebrate — the brother’s birthday. Well, he has a birthday that the whole world celebrates along with us and him on 31 December

We planned to dine at Martin’s Corner, a restaurant located in Betal Bhim, off Colva — and made famous by the media, and by the stars that include the Bachchans, Sachin Tendulkar, Lucky Ali, Bipasha and John… The husband had seen the place reviewed on TV and had to HAD to go there I called up to reserve seats, and was told there’d be no entry for Pumbaa. There! That was the end of my appreciation for the place. Stupid, stupid Martin. What Goan is he, if he can’t accept a friendly Lab inside? Bah!!

Anyways, we went, bought food, bought a cake too — and went back to one place where Pumbaa HAD entry: the apartment

“]

We cut the cake... [I was so sorry we had to actually CUT such a lovely looking cake!

...hogged on all the typically Goan food Martin sent home...

…and sat around for another hour or so chit-chatting and reliving Goa and the lights and sights around, and went off to sleep. We were due to start our return journey the next morning.

We packed, gave away the cash and the keys to the apartment owner, and set off to Bangalore.

Bangalore to Goa is about 580km (about 9 hours), and we hoped to be home in about 11 hours, considering Pumbaa breaks

The way back to Bangalore was simply amazing!! Awesome views and awesome roads!

A shepherd with his friends on a sugarcane field...

The roads...

The countryside...

The 'thadaakam's...

and the roads again!

With roads like this, Pumbaa being a non-fussy darling and us going at super fast speed, we were sure we’d actually be able to make it n 9 hours!

Pumbaa in the car (sorry about such a badly done collage -- but this is the third time I'm "saving draft" and losing all the individually uploaded pics, I'm so fed up!)

But well, 2011 had other plans for us! By about 6p.m., we were short of fuel in the car. We were on the lookout for petrol bunks, but there were few! And of the very few there were, NONE accepted credit cards! We were shocked! We went on for quite a while and finally HAD to stop and fill petrol, in spite of not accepting cards! We filled about 5litres, and after dropping Pumbaa, me and the husband there, my dad and bro went to find an ATM centre. They found none for a long time; and the one that they found had a faulty machine. It was pathetic!

On the way from Kerala to Goa, there were ATMs and petrol stations that accepted cards ALL THE WAY till we left Kerala. Here, none. Not a single ATM for miles and miles. We were actually stranded on the highway for about an hour and half: till they finally found one, took cash and came back to fill the rest of the petrol and pay for it

We reached back home at about 1 a.m.!!!

Anyways, excluding the drives both ways, we had an awesome trip Such a fab time, that we’ve decided Goa is THE place we’ll settle in I’m so not done with Goa: it’s one place i’d love to go back to, again and again. And, again!

Goa :) so aah! – a travellogue: part 4

On the way back from Old Goa on Day 2 @ Goa, we had spotted what looked like some ruins atop a hillside to our left. The brother had rented a bike and rode alongside the car, giving more room in the car for Pumbaa to spread his legs

He told us to go on to Panaji, and said he’ll ride up the hill, take a look and be back. He clicked a few snaps, showed it to me and I was in despair that we had missed it! And my face had this downward curve which the husband, as always, decided to twist upward

And thus, to our new list for Day 3 @ Goa—which was planned to be a foot tour of the Panaji city post parasailing at Colva Beach and a dinner at Martin’s Corner to celebrate the brother’s birthday—was added The Ruins of St Augustine Complex, Old Goa.

So now, this in itself would be a whole part of the travellogue, because it was so stunning a place, I personally think it was the very highlight of our trip! Er er…actually, I’m a little confused between giving “The Highlight Of The Trip” award to parasailing or the ruins

Anyway, though the husband commented in passing the previous night that we’d go see the ruins the next day, I neither took it seriously, nor remembered it by next morning. So, when we suddenly took a detour on our way to Panaji to a direction that a board screamed out “Old Goa”, I was surprised.

The oh-so-sexy road to Holy Hill, Old Goa

And when I saw the towering, ominous looking, in-ruins belfry of god-knows-what, surprise turned to pure AWE! I almost threw off the mobile phone, grabbed the camera and jumped off the car!

Heavenly rays throwing light up on God's once-up-on-a-time abode

Oh my God. Don’t you think this is an amazing sight!? The sky was an amazing blue, with the bright clouds covering up a sun struggling to come out! And nothing else in the frame…not even a bird, but just a 46-metre-high colossal belfry tower of a church built 408 years ago! Yes, a full four-hundred-and-eight years ago!

This massive tower, the St Augustine’s tower, is one of the four towers that once stood at the site—the only remaining part of what was once one of Goa’s largest building—the Augustinian Monastery.

The 46 metere high belfry tower

Friars of the Augustinian Order arrived in Goa in 1572 and built a small convent on Holy Hill. The convent had three storeys, with two really huge stone staircases that led upstairs. The convent had two cloisters, many corridors, pillars, galleries and halls with numerous rooms, a refractory, guesthouse and a spacious infirmary. It also had vast dormitories, numerous cells and other structures (all of which are now in ruins).

View of the complex from the entry gate.

Interiors of the church...

The convent was later enlarged, in 1602, to become a complex–one that housed this colossal belfry tower, eight chapels, four altars and the extensive convent. The tower faces the east and was built of laterite, like most parts of the complex, and formed part of the Church of St Augustine.

One of the eight chapels

The altar...now the occasional seat of the lone guard

The building was completed between 1597 and 1602. Though the name of the designer of this magnificent piece of construction is not known, he is thought to have been Italian. And when it was completed in 1602, the grand Nossa Senhora da Graca Church was worthy of recognition for being one of the three great Augustinian churches in the Iberian world—the other two being the Basilica of the Escorial in Spain and the St Vincente de Fora in Lisbon.

The tower...and the church interiors

On entering the church, one gets a glimpse of a regal, grand retable of the high altar—with its large gilt tabernacle safeguarded within an arch, through a screen of arched piers. Vestiges of these piers supported a spacious choir which easily could have accommodated a large number of Augustinian monks; most of these vestiges were visible until recently.

One of the many inscriptions on the walls...

One more...and this time, a little more elaborate and wonderful!

Inscriptions on the floor...

The repressive policies of the Portuguese government resulted in the eviction of many religious orders from Goa…which led to its abandonment in 1835. The church fell into neglect and the vault collapsed in 1842, accelerating the church’s demise! The body of the church was soon destroyed as per government orders, but the facade remained intact.

The very, very, verrrrry pretty wall carvings

A slab of fine carving

The convent area

Another chapel, only a bit more complete that the rest

A partially cordoned off area...

The dilapidated interiors...

That's dad on the phone...does that put the size of the place in perspective?

Now if THAT didn't, this should! They on the right bottom corner are my dad, mom, husband and Pumbaa

The tower’s huge bell was moved initially to Fort Aguada and later, in 1871, to the Church of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception in Panjim: where it still tolls!!! The facade and half of the tower fell in 1931 and more parts gave way in 1938.

The nave of the Church now stare up at the sky, from where God probably looks down fondly at his long-ago royal abode! The nape is open to the sky, under whose dilapidated yet lovely arches, local folk sometimes gather for a talk.

We stood around too…for almost an hour and half. Just walking around the place took us way back in time. And we murmured over and over again, “This place is just out of this world!”. As the day wore on, and dusk approached, the place grew more ominous, more quiet, more chilling. Thrilling nevertheless.

Ruins of St Augustine Complex, Holy Hill, Old Goa.I have only one word for it. Magnificent.

.

P.S. That I was watching the movie Day After Tomorrow as I was typing this out, did NOT help much, except add to the ominosity

Goa :) so aah! – a travellogue: part 3

Disclaimer: I drafted this post a day after I published the previous one — but well, all the pics were in my brother’s camera and he left the transfer cord at his friend’s place in Kochi. I waited and waited for two weeks before I got it couriered by him. So, here the post is with the pictures…

After many things ancient in Goa—Fort Aguada and Old Goa on Day 2 @ Goa—we had decided to keep aside Day 3 @ Goa for the modern And on top of the list for the day was parasailing!

A few weeks prior to the vacation—after making the list I forgot to take along—I happened to read a blog called Passion For Road Trips. The author, Subu (who i recently discovered is a much-admired and much-respected friend of my friend!! — small world, huh!?), had been on a recent trip to Goa and had a fab travellogue put up on his blog. From my research for the list, and reading through this blog, I had made up my mind to go for parasailing, scooterboat ride and something called a banana ride.

But after spending all that time at the Colva Beach on Day 1 @ Goa, I had decided that the scooterboat ride was too bumpy for my already bummed spine; and that the banana ride was not all that interesting—except that at one point of time, you’ll be toppled over into the sea and then have to climb back on to the banana-shaped floater which is pulled into the sea and back to the beach by another boat.

But parasailing…it looked awesome, exciting and was sure set the adrenaline soaring. The day we went to Colva Beach, we were approached by guides who offered to take us parasailing for Rs 800 per couple. We bargained, saying it wouldn’t be more than Rs 150 Finally, they brought it down to Rs 500 per couple, but we still did not give in: the main reason being that I’d come to the beach in a skirt

Anyways, 31 December in Goa—for that matter, at any place—is a costly affair…and parasailing was no different Once again, we were at Colva Beach, bargaining with guides who refused to reduce it even by a penny beyond Rs 800. The final one who came to us quoted Rs 800 as well…and to him I said in a voice filled with despair and disappointment “it was 600 when we came yesterday…this is unfair”, blah blah. When he saw me sulking, he relented and agreed for Rs 600. I was then chided for having blurted out 600 instead of 500 (or even 400!)…but well, I just wanted to parasail, no matter what In fact, I’d still have gone ahead and done it even if they stuck to Rs 800!

So, we finally agreed for Rs 600 and waited in queue to be the next for sail! The rides were coming to an end for the mid-day break and we were the last ones in queue.

As the couple in front was strapped, buckled and then sailed away, a million butterflies came to life in my tummy and I had second thoughts! The parachute went up to such a terrifying height…there was the sea below…and I didn’t even know to swim—as if it would help at all. Was I still sure I wanted to go in? I turned around to look at the husband and ask if we should back out…he wasn’t very interested in it in the first place.

:) Almost about to parasail!

But alas…when I did turn around to ask, there were two guides on both sides, strapping a life jacket and buckling it up, strapping us both together on to another buckle, the other end of which was fastened to the boat—and before I could say “hey”, we were moving! At 12.45 pm, on a sunny scorching New Year’s eve-noon, we were parasailing!

Up above the world so high... -- pic courtesy: my bro

Almost about to land -- pic courtesy: my bro

A parachute -- a pic I took

It was one of the best things I’ve done in life. The take off was as smooth as one could imagine it to be…there was no air rushing up against or out of me…and the feeling of being in flight, like a bird, was spellbinding. I really and honestly CANNOT describe it. To have to do it to know it.

And the sight! Oh my god, the sight from up there cannot be described! Perhaps if I were a poet, I could have done some justice. But well, I honestly think (and I repeat!) if you really want to know, you must try it someday!

As we sailed up, I began howling like how we do on one of those giant wheels at the theme parks. But I stopped it as soon as I started it: because it was so calm, it was soooo calm and smooth, I realised there was no NEED to howl or scream or even break the silence. All we both did then was gush…. “Oh, wow…look how…” “Ah…this is just…” “Awww…how small those people…”

The vast expanse of the sea beneath, the endless blue sky above, and a wonderful, wonderful sight of the shore, with palm trees lining one side and the virgin white beach seeming to be covered with people the size of mere ants!

Oh my god. I’m still getting goose bumps as I write this! The husband, who had to literally be begged to join for the adventure, was the one who perhaps loved it more that I did! He was glad he did it; it was thaaaaat good. (See, this is why you should TRY things out, darling! )

Again, being one of the last ones in queue, we had a pretty much shorter ride than the ones who went before us…we seemed to have gone up and touched back ground in a matter of 30 seconds. But it was worth every penny we spent!

Happy, content and satisfied of having had a wonderful trip so far, we headed back home to change, have lunch and head to Panaji!

I had no clue that an awesome sight awaited me—one that would leave me as breathless as this one did. Day 3 @ Goa had just begun!

Goa :) so aah! – a travellogue: part 2

Please note: photograph overdoseload. Please wait for the pics to load completely

After a lovely time at Colva Beach on Day 1 @ Goa, we were up and about early on Day 2. Old Goa and Fort Aguada were on the new list…and I thought if we could finish them off a bit early, there would be enough time to squeeze in a beach visit too

But alas, lil’ Pumbaa had his own plans. All that beach sand he ate up last evening had to be shat out, didn’t it!? Oh my gosh. The room was a mess. It did not stink, it did not even look ewww. It was just beach sand, but in a shade of brown than the plain white sand we saw at the beach So, while I sweated out the cleaning process, Pumbaa now beach-sand free, strolled royally out on the terrace

We’d bragged soooo much about the charm of Goa to Mom, that she seemed a tad disappointed in Madgaon. Though she agreed it was Kerala-like and was nice enough, she did not get the “Goan” feel yet. I could only console her with “Just wait till we reach Panaji and Old Goa and Fort Aguada and all, Amma…you’ll love it!” Well, she began loving it even as we began approaching Panaji

The Fatorda Circle, Fatorda, Madgaon

Road to Panaji

An iron ore barge steaming on over the Zuari River while 2- and 4-wheelers line the Zuari Bridge. If only an aircraft passed through the frame then!

The Mandovi Bridge over the Mandovi River, viewed from the road to Old Goa

So we drove on, crossed the Mandovi Bridge and drove on towards Old Goa.

Old Goa, constructed  originally by the Bijapur Sultans in 15th Century A.D. served as the capital of Portuguese India. In 18th Century, malaria and cholera epidemics ravaged the city, and it was then abandoned by the Viceroy, who moved to Pangim (now, Panjim/Panaji).This abandoned Goa then came to be known as “Old Goa”. All that remains of Old Goa are now UNESCO World Heritage Sites.

The road to Old Goa is beautiful, though narrow. For quite a distance, the Mandovi river flows along with us on the left, giving us typical rivery views…

The road to Old Goa

Dredgers, barges and ferrys on the Mandovi River, seen from the road to Old Goa

Like all tourists to Old Goa, we also went first to the Basilica of Bom Jesus. Over 400 years old, this is one of the oldest churches, not just in Goa, but in India. The marble is inlaid with precious stones. Apart from the elaborate gilded altars, the interior of the church is simple.

The crowds that thronged the Basilica of Bom Jesus

Basilica of Bom Jesus

The main altar at the Basilica of Bom Jesus

The whole back wall, and the facade, is designed with numerous carving of pillars and friezes, all gild in pure gold. Above the altar and tabernacle stands a giant statue of St Ignatius of Loyola in priestly vestments, nearly three metres high. His gaze is fixed on the medallion containing the holy letters IHS, the first letters of the Holy Name of Jesus. Above the monogram of Jesus is the holy trinity—the father, son and the holy spirit.

On the left of the main altar

A UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Basilica holds the mortal remains of St Francis Xavier, a pioneering Roman Catholic Missionary who was influential in the spreading and upkeep of Catholicism in India. Hi relics are kept in a silver casket, elevated inside the  Basilica and are brought to ground level when the Archbishop of Goa e Damão decides so. It is usually done every ten years. The last time that happened was in 2004, and was open to public for a whole month.

The silver casket holding the body of St Francis Xavier

Also within the Basilica

Also within the Basilica

Also within the Basilica

Also within the Basilica

Also within the Basilica

Also within the Basilica, in celebration of Christmas

Also within the Basilica

Also within the Basilica

The majestic trees within the campus of the Basilica of Bom Jesus

The archways that say a thousand tales (pic courtesy: Jaya, my best friend)

The Basilica of Bom Jesus...the side facing the Church of St Assissi

On the other side of the Basilica is the Church of St Francis of Assisi built in 1661.Here’s some info on the church, as seen on the plaque beside it.

“The three tier facade have octagonal towers on each side and in the central niche there is a statue of St Michael. The main entrance is decorated with circular pilasters and rosette band. The central nave is barrel-vaulted while the crossing is rib-vaulted which supports the choir. The internal buttress walls, separating the chapels and supporting the gallery on top, have frescoes showing floral designs. Above the tabernacle in the main altar is a large statue of St Francis of Assisi and Jesus on the cross, statues of St Peter and St Paul are seen below. The adjoining walls of nave retain painted panels depicting scenes from the life of St Francis of Assisi.”

The Church of St Francis of Assisi, built in 1661

The Church of St Francis of Assisi, built in 1661

Another much visited site is the Se Cathedral, the oldest and most celebrated religious building in Goa and one of the largest churches in Asia. We did not go in there Pumbaa would be made to wait outside all these places, and I really didn’t think that was fair to him

By now, Mom had changed her opinion. Goa was definitely beautiful and lovely, and Old Goa, especially so! We stopped for ice creams, licked them clean and then was ready to head to our next destination: Fort Aguada.

On the way, we also decided to stop over at Mapusa, near Calangute. Mapusa, also pronounced Mapsa by the locals, is the main market town in northern Goa.

An interesting idea for a "wedding car"! Caught on cam on the way to Mapusa.

The road from Panaji to Mapusa

The reason we went to Mapusa was to see the house where the husband stayed at while he was with SBI. We always used to say we must buy that house and the fields on both sides, demolish it and build our dream house right there It was a lovely place.

This time however, we were disappointed to see the surroundings heaped with trash

We also dropped in at Shama Medicals, to see the owner Uzma, a dear friend in Goa. We also met her daughter, who is super cute After a 10-minute chat and a few clicks, we were on our way to Fort Aguada.

Fort Aguada.

The water tank and the lighthouse at Fort Aguada

Constructed in 1612 to guard against the Dutch and the Marathas, this magnificent  piece of architecture also served as a reference point for vessels coming from Europe at that time. it was once the grandstand of 79 cannons, with a moat around the fort that  protected it.

The view from the fort. So pristine!

Standing on the beach, south of Candolim, at the shore of the Mandovi river, the fort was once home to a freshwater spring that provided water to the ship inmates who used to stop by.

Another sea view

Aguada means water…and that’s how the fort got its name. Crews of passing ships would often stop by to replenish their fresh water stock.

The fort also houses a 4-storey Portuguese lighthouse that is the oldest of its kind in Asia: built in 1864.

The lighthouse at Fort Aguada

The Aguada prison is also close by, and is still functional, used by the Goan Police.

The sprawling bungalow of a diamond merchant, Jimmy Kardeka, where many Bollywood films were apparently shot. Constructed on one side of the hill without disturbing the natural geographical incline, the bungalow is estimated to be about 70 crore INR (as sourced from the web and from the blog Passion for Road Trips). I initially thought it was the Vivanta by Taj till I read his blog!

Father, Son and the Aguada Fort

We walked all around Fort Aguada and both dad and mom loved the place too. Dad had come here long back, sometime during the late 70s…but he definitely had no memories of seeing the lighthouse there We took a lot many more pics and then as the closing time fast approached (5.30 pm) and the sun began its descend, we also filed out. Pumbaa was tired (and refused to walk anymore, which explains why he’s in the Father’s hands ) and hungry, and we decided to stop at a fancy restaurant we’d spotted on the way to the Fort, to fuel up.

Sweet Chilli.

Sweet Chilli

A garden-style Goan restaurant, made to resemble a beach shack, this is a fab place to hang out. Yummy food, totally affordable rates and a most pleasing ambiance. And it being the Xmas season, it was all beautifully lit up too

The best part was the acceptance of Pumbaa without hesitation, and my heart immediately warmed to the place

Pumbaa after his fill...at Sweet Chilli

The reception-cum-bar...and the friendly waiter who even played with Pumbaa

The walkway into the restaurant

After a sumptuous dinner, we all filed back into the car and drove back to Panaji. We also decided to take a quick tour of Panaji City, for the parents’ sake. And it was only 7.00 by then. Ample time for a city drive before heading back to Madgaon.

We drove right from one end of Panaji to the other…and finally ended up near Miramar Beach. The husband could not quite miss the shine in my eyes, and we stopped over for some nice beach time

We alighted opposite the Club Tennis sports facility centre and walked to the Miramar beach.

Clube Tennis De Gaspar Dias

The Miramar Circle...as I call it

Beach volleyball

It was a breezy, cool, lovely night, and we spotted a few guys enjoying beach volleyball. We enjoyed at the beach for another half hour and then went back to Madgaon, to sleep away the tiredness and better savour the day through possible dolby digital colour dreams

Our Day 3 @ Goa, also the bro’s birthday, was to be spent mostly at the beach and in Panjim/Panaji city.

Goa :) so aah! – a travellogue: part 1

Goa has always been a much-loved place—for both the husband and for me. He used to work there, for SBI Life Insurance during 2006-07, and I’ve been there with my best friend and bro then. And we all had had such an amazing time!So, the love for Goa has always been unconditional. I’ve seen the place in sunshine, drizzles, rains and heavy rains And it’s always been unbelievably WOW.

So, every time we plan a trip, the first option that I put forward is Goa. But it would never happen, and would always get postponed to “some other time”. Till December 2010: and for that, I owe all thanks to Pumbaa. If it weren’t for him, we’d have spent it at Delhi instead (we settled for Goa since it was a place we could drive up to, taking Pumbaa along ). And Goa on a New Year Eve had been my dream! So, the mere thought was exciting.

The 4-day Goa plan, like always, was jinxed initially. We tried a lot of hotels/resorts/home stays.

• If there were rooms available, they wouldn’t allow pets.
• If pets were allowed, there were no rooms.
• And if there were rooms and they allowed pets, then it was way over budget

The cheapest we could find was Rs 5500 a day for a single room (which meant Rs 11000 a day for the 5 of us!)—and they wouldn’t allow pets. I had slipped into despair and was almost giving up when the husband’s ex-colleague told us he rents out his 2BHK flat at Margao/Madgaon, the cultural capital of Goa, for Rs 3500 a day. Whoooopiiieee! An entire flat for just Rs 3500 a day was like an impossible deal! So, the excitement that had dwindled down came back with double the force!

28 dawned early for us: we were up and about by 4.30am…and waved our goodbyes by 5.30am. Pumbaa, once again, took advantage of the space benefit and promptly snored off. He seemed to realise the luxury would be on offer only for an hour or so We stopped at Guruvayur, picked up dad and mom, and were on our way to GO AAAAHHH !!!!!!!

KTDC's Motel Aaram...where we stopped for lunch

Now, one mistake you should ALWAYS avoid during a trip—especially a road trip—is miscalculation of time and distances For some reason, we all seemed to silently agree that Kochi-Goa is equivalent to B’lore-Kochi. So, another 14 hours, at the max, thought we. And expected to reach Goa by about 8.00 – 9.00pm. Boy, were we wrong!

Kochi to Goa by road is about 850km! Plus add Pumbaa-breaks, food breaks, bio breaks   The roads were terrible till we enteredTamil Nadu…and returned back to the terribleness as soon as we left Tamil Nadu

The NH 17—the 7th longest highway in India with 1,296 km—connects Edapally (Kochi) to Panvel (Mumbai) and passes through almost all of nature’s topographical thrills: hills, forests, rivers, and streams generally flowing westwards towards Arabian sea. Most of the region has the never-tire-of-scenery coconut trees dotted paddy fields and arecanut gardens. But the road makes up for all this wonder, by being horrid: it’s uneven with bumps, curves, steep rises and narrow paths. And being a region with heavy rainfall, the potholes are omnipresent!

The NH 17

And well, we decided to go to Goa direct from Kochi instead of coming back to Bangalore, for two reasons: 1) it was simply the most sensible thing to do …and 2) the route in famous for its beauty as it touches the Arabian sea at Thalassery (Kerala), and at Maravanthe (Karnataka) where it runs in between the sea and the river…like these, for instance:

A shot of the Arabian Sea that ran parallel to the NH...between Thalassery and Mahe (where I got out for a click, and Pumbaa for a pee )

NH 17, with the Arabian Sea on one side and the Sauparnika River on the other...at Maravanthe (pic courtesy: Wikipedia)

In spite of all this, to catch this amazing scene in the pic above, we still took this road. But   our miscalculation, we’d reached these points post 7.30pm! We had no clue where there was sea or where the river

Narrow roads and the lorry traffic ensured we go at a relatively low pace, for a highway! And by the time we could actually pick up speed, we had reached one of the WORST roads we’ve experienced in life. And there were ABSOLUTELY NO sign boards warning us of dug up roads ahead! The first time, we almost flew! And from there on, we went at a snail’s pace for another hour.

Long story short: we reached Madgaon/Margao–our place of stay–at about 2.00am! Tired, sleepy and still feeling all bumpy! I don’t remember anyone getting freshened up or anything. Even Pumbaa decided to cut the frolic and hit bed

Day 1 @ Goa dawned late and we all were rather lazy. By about 12pm, we were ready to leave. But, to where?

“Ah, I know! I’ve made a complete list of all the places I want to visit. Let me find that out.”, said I, and rummaged through all my bags. Typically Priya, I’d forgotten to take the list, apparently. I cursed out loud and tried to access the internet through the husband’s mobile phone. No internet connectivity. I grumbled a few swears and was downed in despair.

Anyways, once it was apparent we were “listless” and didn’t know where to go, we headed out to the nearest beach from Madgaon, the Colva Beach. 4 km west pf Margao, Colva is a lovely beach with about 20 km of palm fringed virgin white sands! Being the new year season, it was brimming with people and activities.

Couples parasailing at Colva Beach

Guarding the life of the beach...the people

Just an interesting something...

Pumbaa and the Sea

The lovely Colva Beach

Pumbaa had a lovely time at the beach. He couldn’t, for the life of him figure out why the water kept coming at him (and he kept running away) and why it kept running away when he chased it . As always, he revelled in all the “ooh”s and “cho chweet”s and “oh-so-cute”s from the other beach lovers He seemed to think he’d never get another chance like that, and ate up quite a bit of the beach sand!

I had decided I must go parasailing, and kept bargaining for a good rate. but well, it being the peak season, they refused to bring it down beyond 500 per couple. Plus, I was wearing a top and skirt, and didn’t want to end up worse that Raima Sen in the movie Honeymoon Travels So, I gave up the idea for the day, willing myself to return the next day.

We left the beach and headed home by about 7pm, shopped for dinner and reached home exhilarated. Beaches do that to me The apartment was a huge one, with two huge bedrooms, a living room, a huge kitchen, one small open balcony, a bigger, closed balcony and an amazing terrace area! (Had meant to click pics, but at that moment, the cam settings gave me trouble and by the time I sorted it out, I forgot what I’d intended to do! It was only after reaching Bangalore that I realised I did not have a single pic of the place )

I did another round of searching-for-the-list, but was unsuccessful. We decided to go to the nearest internet cafe and figure out. But its Goa, folks. People don’t stay “at work” for longer than necessary…and everything closes by 7—especially during this season of rejoicing. They’d rather be home, and spend quality time with family and “spirit”, than watch someone trying to search ‘places to visit” in Goa

And of course, having been to Goa multiple times, and the husband having lived there for close to a year, it wasn’t like we didn’t know the place well…but my non-existent list had many beaches to be visited!

Anyways, “listless” still, we decided to go to Old Goa and Fort Aguada on Day 2 @ Goa.

the prelude to a travellogue

Christmas-New year vacations are meant to be spent at places where its spirit is celebrated with fervour and joy.

And what better place than…GOA!

The plan was a Bangalore-Kochi-Goa-Bangalore drive in the Punto, with the six of us: Dad, Mom, Bro, Pumbaa, the husband and I.

The two weeks at office before 24 Dec was a real pain. There was a load of work to complete—what with so many people taking vacations, the US team completely off, and having to ensure things reach the right people on time—yet, I just couldn’t concentrate well or contain the excitement!

We set off to Kochi on 24 Dec early morning. The plan was to leave at 4.30 am, but we actually left only an hour later. And even then, Bangalore was so completely enveloped in fog that we could only roll along the road and could not take advantage of the traffic free time :S

It was Pumbaa’s first ever long-distance car journey, and the poor thing could just NOT adjust. Usually, when we take him somewhere, there’d only be the two of us…or one or both the parents. There never were five people, and he always had space to curl up on the back seat. This time around, space wasn’t a luxury—though it was, for us, it wasn’t for him! He kept shifting laps and finally would sleep on one. He’d wake up at the next hump, shift laps again and sleep on one. This was an endless affair till we finally dropped off my parents at Trichur. [From there, they took a train to Thiruvananthapuram and then went to Guruvayur a day later, from where we picked them up again on our way to Goa.]

We had a packed car—apart from the people and the pup It would be my first Christmas with the in-laws (though it’s my third Xmas after the wedding ), and we’d packed quite a few gifts too. Plus, there were a few from the sister-in-law as well, to be handed over to the parents.

Our X'mas tree...and the Xmas gifts waiting to be opened by the in-laws!

But more than all that, was the food we carried! Go anywhere with Mom, and she makes sure there is breakfast, lunch and dinner (and if possible next day’s food too ) packed along! And this time, Mom decided to save the food expense at Goa by cooking at least two meals at the apartment (where we were to stay at Goa) and carried the electric rice cooker and some vessels too!! In fact, she packed idlis and dry coconut chutney for breakfast and evening snack on the way, and fried rice for lunch on the way (which she cooked and carried in the rice cooker itself!) And of course, some beef pickle, salads and what not These only added to poor Pumbaa’s misery, for he could smell delicious stuff, but couldn’t figure out where it was stashed away!

Bangalore-Kochi by road is 530km (about 10 hours usually) but we took about 13.5 hours! We had to stop just too many times to let little Pumbaa relieve himself, and of course, had to have longer than usual breakfast and lunch breaks: because while the others ate, someone had to hold on to Pumbaa!

The lunch break

Anyway, we dropped off Mom and Dad at Trichur railways station by about 4.30pm, had a super late lunch of fried rice, and was on our way to Kochi. Pumbaa was the most happy, for now he had all of the backseat to himself, after he pushed me to one corner
Tired, sleepy and exhausted, we touched base at Kochi by about 7.00pm. I was ready to hit the bed right away, but of course, that’s not a possibility!

We introduced Pumbaa to the in-laws. Daddy loved him and immediately cuddled him, but Mamma was a bit hesitant: she HATES dogs But of course, Pumbaa being the charmer he is, won over her heart in a matter of seconds, though she didn’t let it out The in-laws usually live a timetable life and have their dinner by 8.30 and hit the bed by 10. I being (almost dead) super tired, had high hopes of that happening, but NO! It’s not every day they get to see us in flesh and have long talks. So the already stretched day stretched over till about 11.30, when we actually could go to bed—and that too, AFTER getting orders that we were to attend the 6.30 am Christmas Mass the next morn. Like that would happen at all!

Of course, we didn’t get up at 6.30. In fact, we didn’t even get up at 9.30! By about 10, we sheepishly came out expecting chidings and frown faces, but they were dears about it! All we got were a Christmas cake and tiny cups of wine! The presents were unveiled and they loved it all. The one that excited them the most was the web cam: we bought it especially since all of us—their son, daughter, their spouses and their grandchildren—were in Bangalore, and they could only always talk over phone. Now, they could see too! We immediately had the sister-in-law and family come on screen, and had a good time

From the Santa's basket

The same day afternoon, we went over to Mamma’s ancestral home in Pala.

The Moozhayil house...amidst green, more green and some more green!

All her siblings had come with family, and it was a riot. Pumbaa turned out to be the star and won over all hearts In fact, he was cuddled and cuddled so much that the poor thing, exhausted, slept blissfully through an hour of crackers!

The entire family celebrating...

We reached back the next evening and certain bank issues kept us busy all of 27th.

I couldn’t wait for 28 to dawn: Goa beckoned with all its might

Thank You for being there…

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Wish you all a very happy day today

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Special mention to four of my bestest friends: Achan, Amma, Chettan and Suraj

And to all my friends. You’ve all given me a lot. Thanks for being there. For being F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Travellogue: a week-long holiday – part 2

So, that was Coorg. Was fun, was peaceful, was yummm.

By 12 on Sunday, we boarded a bus back to Bangalore and bid goodbye to Coorg. Reached Bangalore by 7, came home, dropped off the laundry, freed the cam’s disk space, watered all my plants (my official water’er’ had been Verby, till lil’ H came along . so this time, had to beg the maid to come and do it everyday; she was only too pleased: no work, but no sal cut either.)

In the 9 o’ clock bus, we again set off to Thrissur, Kerala. We reached there in the morning, about 7 and went straight off to his aunt’s house.

Now, visiting relatives is a little tricky, when you have married a person from a family of a different faith. I’ve never met these people after my wedding a year and half ago (and have only spoken to them twice: once on Christmas, and then on Easter!! ) And what’s worse? The aunt and cousin had just come back from a week-long retreat: the time when religion is first and fresh in mind And here I am, married to a Christian for a year and half and can’t even complete “Our Father in Heaven” without stumbling a million times (I knew it better when I was in Std 2, Holy Angels’ Convent )

Anyway, we piled into the house with our bags and were received most warmly. I gelled instantly with the aunt and the cousin. Only the uncle was reason for my apprehension. Suraj was wondering how he’ll avoid my getting bored. But the next 8 hours we spent there was fun! The uncle turns out to be pro-Christ and anti-church. Oh, the discussions we had were hilarious! The aunt could only smile and pretend to gently reprimand the uncle for ‘teaching the kids all the wrong things’. “They’re not kids; they are grown ups who can think!” was his answer every time They were all real dears! And it was such fun.

But well, from Thrissur is when the food stuffing began First visit after wedding is always a big thing in our country! Since it was my first time there, there was a real feast. Breakfast of idiyappam (my fav!!) and veg stew (for me) and chicken curry for the rest. Lunch of fried rice and gobi manchiruan and veg stew (again) and chicken curry and pickle. Desserts of payasam and ice cream and cakes.

Stuffed to the extend of being unable to lift ourselves off the seat, we slouched for a while and yap-yapped for an hour more. By about 3, we left for the railway station and chugged away to Kochi. Reached home, chat with (his) parents for a while and quickly went into the bedroom to switch on the AC.

Let me take a moment off here to thank the dear Mr Willis Haviland Carrier for giving us a brilliant thing called Air Conditioner! If it not were for the AC there, I wouldn’t be blogging about this now. The heat in Kochi, I cant even begin to think of it! Anyway, early the next morning, we left to Thodupuzha + Pala, the mother-in-law’s sister’s house and her family home, respectively.

Now, while in Coorg, every third minute, the husband kept saying “Pala and all is so like this…” and I told him to shut up. Thodupuzha and Pala are not just “so like” Coorg…they’re all much better!!

We reached Thodupuzha by about 8.30 – 9.00 a.m.

That’s the long winding path to the house…set right in the middle of acres of rubber plantations. It’s unbelievably beautiful See the car yonder? The house it set above, with a flight of some 20 steps leading to it!! Right in the centre of 12 acres of greenery!

A random view of their backyard...it goes up and up towards infinity

Look at those greens! From where I'm standing with the cam, I cannot even spot the house!! That's my dad-in-law there...and the uncle and cousin ahead of him.

“Rock-on” after one lap of the trekking. Fancy having one’s own huge rock and everything!! Plus a huge well atop the land (so water fills the tanks without need for a motor) and a pond at the bottom. Sigh!

On the way back after a tiresome trek! This 4-member family who stays here are all equally slim. Guess daily trekking pays

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Post-trek lunch: of rice and sambar and avial and salad and kovakkai (ivy gourd that's grown right there: in fact, i plucked it for the aunt there!!) and chicken curry and beef fry and fish fry and fish curry and meat cutlets and curds. Burp [I clicked this pic before everything was set.

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A pseudo siesta on the verandah. That dish antenna took to my fancy. It's taller than me!! [as if I'm very tall, huh?

The view down from the porch And then all of us piled into the car and went off to Pala. Sadly, there was no more space in the cam...so, no pics. But it was much more beautiful than Thodupuzha; a pretty old house set in 2 acres.

The entire family (mom-in-law’s) had come to Pala…and the house was teeming with people. For someone who hadn’t met any of these people till then, I was being bombared with questions and kids and aunts The heat was tiring us out, the travel had worn us out and we were waiting for bedtime. But for the first time in life, I didn’t care about either.We slept by about 1 and it was such glorious fun till then.

But well, the laughter waned when i reached my room. I counted 6 spiders of various sizes positioned randomly on the walls. I freaked out. I can’t stand spiders. Well, can’t blame them. A group of boisterous people had invaded their quiet home for a night. Quite reasonable they’d express distress. Well, i refused to re-enter the room until the husband actually showed me the deadbodies

Woke up early next morning and set off to Kottayam, to yet another uncle’s place. I was excited to bits. We were on the way to a houseboat. Yey!

The road to the houseboat I found no such roads in Coorg Ok Ok. I'll stop digging at the Scotland of India

Just 4 days prior to my travel, I’d told a collegue I’d lived in Kerala all my life, but had never been on a houseboat. I reached home that day to hear my mom-in-law tell the husband his uncle’d booked a night for us all on a houseboat. Yipppeeee! I was so excited, I couldn’t contain myself Armed with a fully charged handicam, normal cam and the husband’s mobile cam, I was silently urging the dad-in-law to drive faster…

I have this thing for water. Be it a shower, a pool, a river, lake or sea, once I’m in, it takes immense will power to come away My average bathing time is an hour: the typical “neeraattu” When we started off from Kottayam, we allthought it was someplace close. Finally, we felt we’ll reach Kochi soon! But well, we finally reached Swamikkal Boat Jetty, where was docked SBT’s own houseboat!!!

Taken from our boat; but ours was identical; as beautiful

I’ve never been on one before…and it was pure delight! The houseboat is a huge affair! Spacious, airy, well-lit and cosy! And when docked, one doesn’t even feel one’s on water!

High on sweet toddy I'm a tee totaler I don't even drink wine; so, for me, it was yuck But yes, now I can say "I've had madhura kallu"

The normal rates for an overnight stay in a houseboat averages Rs 4500 – Rs 5000. But, since the husband’s uncle works in SBT and had booked this under his employee-facility, we got the entire place to ourselves for Rs 65 or so per person But well, all that special food (which included sweet toddy, karimeen pollichathu, karimeen fry, chicken 65 and kappa ‘n’ meen curry for 8 people) bought the cost up to about 5k !!

There! Rice and sambar and curds and cabbage and pappad and pickle and karimeen pollichathu and karimeen fry and chicken 65. Again, clicked before the entire thing was set {Food kaanumbo aakraanthamaa}

The rooms, and the kitchen, beyond.

The traffic

The Pathiramanal Island we were headed for. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pathiramanal)

Our official marine radars The boat's bow seemed to constantly attract crows! While we were docked in the middle of the lake, close to the Pathiramanal Island It was a treat to see the anchor go down.

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An Oberoi resort cottage, with its own white boat! Naah...traditional houseboats are much better [no vimmuuu, not the typical akkare-pacha case

Ahem! Artistic evening shot of the bow and the helm!

:D Artist at the bow and helm! It's damn easy to steer a boat. Only, if you don't know the waters well, you'll never know what you'll hit! And so, I steered us all back.

Then, by about 7 at night we docked back. To lie on the deck and stare at the starry sky for about an hour was pure bliss…with the gentle lap-lap of the waves against the hull, the gentle breeze, the small talk, the mosquitoes.. er er…yeah. That was the only trouble. Anyway, had a good night’s sleep in the AC room [:D] and woke up early next day and drove back to Kochi. And that was it. Another tick on my “to-do” list

Spent the day there doing laundry and sweating out all the added calories By about 7, we went to meet the friend who had absconded from Calicut , spent an hour or so there and went on to meet my best friend who’s a new mommy! Spent about an hour and half there and reached back home by 11.30.

Avoided direct eye contact with a pissed-off mom-in-law and kukly quickly went off to sleep.

Phase 3, the Poovar journey, was the next morning: and we had to leave at 5.30. I’ve never seen those times of the day before. There was MUCH sleep pending…and the dark circles where threatening to make such deep pools that could drown my eyes!

Sophistication starts with an ‘S’. So does Stupidity :P

I am what I am!

A statement like that’s the only way I can establish that if you need to like me, you just need to do it without getting judgmental or advisory   Just assume that I’m a composed, sophisticated and so-full-of-attitude person. Because, sophistication does not come to me naturally. But I am trying my best

I have (rather had) a habit of keeping a daily diary. And now that I’ve given it up (gave up after marriage…lest the husband gets to know the ‘real’ me ), I miss going back on years and reading about those days of stupidity. So, I thought, what better place than my blog to keep my secrets stupid…uh oh…keep my stupidities a secret, i meant!

Anyways, here goes my favourite ones (Long-post-ahead Alert!!)

I was like 3 or 4, I used to spend the entire day in the company (or the lack of it) of my grandmother. She used to make me nap alongside her for 3 hours compulsorily (to keep me away from mischief while she slept). One day, devoid of any sleep, I was pressing her ruby locket into my arm and making impressions when she looked at me lovingly and said, “When I die, this locket will be yours.” I nodded my head and continued with the impressions; then suddenly, I woke her up from sleep and said, “marakkalle ammumma...” (Please don’t forget, Grandma). And she didn’t! It wasn’t forgotten like one for those “innocent comments” kids make. Sigh!

I was probably labelled dangerous to be left alone with Grandma any more. She feared for her life, I suppose. It was decided I was to attend kindergarten

On my first day at Kindergarten, I was screaming away at full-throttle at the prospect of getting abandoned by my mom…that the teacher there made me sit on her lap to pacify me and make me feel safe. I decided that was going to be my seat everyday (and it definitely helped that she was quite plump; such comfortable seating, I say!). The next day onwards, I’d walk in, keep my bag and lunch pack on the desk allocated for me, and go climb on to her lap. It was like our family kindergarten: all my elder cousins, and my brother, had been to the same one; so, I did enjoy a level of freedom and partiality there Anyways, like most women, she also loved to gossip…and she did that religiously with the ayah there, discussing every parent that comes to drop off their kids. She once told the ayah that my mom literally throws me in and rushes off (in her defense, my poor mom had a punching system for attendance at her office and couldn’t afford to be late even by a minute!). I promptly went home and told my mom that…and she stayed a lil longer the next day to explain herself. I never retrieved my ‘comfortable’ seat after that! Sigh!

I suppose she kept tabs on me forever after that. “Teachers” were my greatest enemies ever since And especially so, if they taught either Hindi or Malayalam!

I was double promoted and put into UKG almost a month after I joined LKG. Guess she wanted me out of there asap! And then I joined an ICSE school. Since my dad had a transferable job, he decided that I should opt for Hindi as my second language, since he was sure his next transfer would be to some place in the north. And I was put into the Hindi gang there. Being an ICSE school, we had only two languages to learn. English, of course, was compulsory. And my optional was Hindi, and not Malayalam. By the time I reached my 3rd grade, Dad got his transfer to the “north”; only, it was to North Kerala, and not North India!! We packed off to Guruvayur. I was put into a CBSE school: and voila! two languages became three. English, Hindi and Malayalam. All compulsory. Damn! I was in big trouble. Our Malayalam teacher turned out to be a Sanskrit professor as well; in fact, that was her primary subject. So, one can imagine her depth of knowledge of the Malayalam language as well. I immediately got into her black list Mom became my self-proclaimed Malayalam tutor and started teaching me the alphabets. While the rest of the class raced each other in reading page-long lessons, I was trying to write “a aa e ee u uu” without mistakes Soon, it was time for the mid-term exams. I blinked. I knew the answer to just one question! I was elated too: at least, I won’t take home a zero! The question was to list two synonyms of Bhoomi (earth). I knew the answers — Kshoni and Paaru. But alas, Mom had taught me the older script, while the school was teaching the new script; in all that tension of getting spanked by the teacher again, I muddled up everything and wrote the answers in my own script. Apparently, I was destined to take home a zero! After paper valuation, my answer was read in front of the entire class. “Priya’s synonyms for Bhoomi are Keshani (gossip/jealousy) and Paara (backstabbing and the like, born out of jealousy or anger). Was a small school, and I became infamous! Sigh!

Anyways, after scraping through high school without much trouble, I got into a mad gang of friends in the 11th and 12th grades. We had an ever-irate classmate whom we all loved to fool. Once, during a free hour, we were all having fun when I saw this girl remove her shoes and stretch her toes. I slowly pulled one from under the bench and threw it out the window. Bad timing; for our Physics teacher walked by just then, looking for me! She marched in and ordered me out of the class (this had become an everyday affair, o there was no embarrassment). She’d been on her way to penalise me for writing a friend’s fair record (I loved Physics and was always more than willing to be where Physics was ; and yes, he told me I had the best handwriting in school ). Anyway, she started screaming at me for being irresponsible, indisciplined and all that. And to top it all she had seen a 11th grader throw a fellow ‘studious’ 11th graders shoe out the window! And while the screaming went on, I stood there, head bent as much as it would bend, laughing my guts out and almost succeeding in keeping her unaware…till she almost went down on her knees to see my face. Though she did smile, she had a super report to give my parents! Sigh!

But she was a real sport the day I rushed in late for my 12th Boards final practical exam! I rushed into the dark coolness of the huge school building from a scorching sun, which made my eyes watery; and the running made me pant. When she hissed at me for my late arrival, all I could manage to say was, “Teacher, my grandmother…” and she just assumed my grandmother must’ve passed away! She immediately made amends, apologised (!!!) and directed me to my seat. When the external invigilator called me over to question my knowledge of the project I’d submitted, she interrupted her and told her, “Her grandmother…psst…psst…psst.” And, to my surprise, am excused from the Q&A session. AND. I passed the exam with a 29 on 30!

Anyway, that marked the end of my tryst with the sciences. I was, any day, better off with Arts and the languages.

I gave up my love of Physics (my extraordinary talent in Mathematics made sure I never fared well in Physics) and chose to graduate in Literature. The college I did my graduation in, was set a little off from the main road: which meant all of us had half a kilometre to walk to and from the bus stop to college. Every evening, there would be about 100-150 girls (it was a women’s college) crowding at the highway bus stop Which meant, there’d be a good share of guys too On a certain day, a group of us girls were waiting for the bus, chatting animatedly when I noticed a guy giving our gang repeated looks and occasional smiles. And so, I told the rest of the gang “There’s a guy yonder, sending looks this way…he’s even smiling, as if we’re basking in his attention. Vrithikettavan. Vaainokki. Mazhuvan!” And then, one among the group became highly interested in the word “mazhuvan“, the meaning of which I started explaining most happily. I told her it means anything in the range of  ‘geek’, ‘useless’, ‘nerd’, ‘drip’, ‘bore’… And then, she wanted to know how I could make out so much about him. Like a wise ass, I told her, “It’s quite evident…look at his hairstyle…his stupid dressing…n that ready-made smile…and just about everything. Ivaneyokke kettunnavalde kashtakaalam (pity the girl who’ll marry him). I’d love to warn her!” “Yes. You just did,” she said, and walked off in his direction! Turned out he’d come to pick her up and was waiting for the rest of us to leave. Sigh!

Jesus! I wished I could sink through the ground then! That was the LAST time I made any comment about random people!

In spite of years of such incidents, I wonder why I took up Advertising and Public Relations for my PG! Hehe…any brand which’d trust their name in my hands would be doing so at their own risk OK! Am kidding. Am actually quite good at my work!

Anyways, it was an autonomous college that focused on MBA and PGDM courses. I think the PR&Ad course was only because they liked the extra income We were a small group of 15 Malayalees in a college that hyped on MBA and PGDM, which had a high North-Indian population. And, we were the trouble makers ; least popular of all batches They hated us, we hated them. Once, there was a National-level seminar held for the sake of the PGDMs, and since the professors didn’t trust us to behave ourselves if left alone, we were (like a punishment), asked to attend it too. And the moment the seminar got over, we sprang up from our seats and rushed out, making fun of the ‘panna’ PGDMs. I lead the rushing out, got my heel caught under the carpet and feel headlong onto the portico—in front of the entire college. I could hear gasps and murmurs. But all I could think of was the way I fell, and how hilarious it might have been to see. And, lying right there, I burst out laughing in front of some 200 odd students. Well, that was the only time some good came out of my ‘situations’. Our gang was not perceived as ‘stuck-up’ anymore!

The icing on the cream cake was after my engagement. Suraj and I had created chaos in both families by falling in love: a Christian and a Hindu. After much refusal, esp. from his family, we’d gotten everyone to agree. Finally, the dates were fixed, and cards were printed. There was a formality of the bride’s parents “inviting” the bridegroom’s parents. We were on our way back to Trivandrum from Guruvayur, and dropped in at his place in Kochi. According to Hindu traditions, the bride does NOT step into the groom’s house before marriage! I was only too happy to stay back in the car. But his dad was a sport and welcomed me also in, saying, “We Christians don’t have such beliefs. Come on in.” I give a shy smile (pretending to be the polite daughter-in-law of their dreams), remove my shoe and (as is considered auspicious) keep my right foot on the first step. Boom! The transformer nearby burns off with a terrifying boom and vibrations, causing a bike to fall off its stand against the neighbour’s gate and crash. And obviously, the power goes off! Just like in the movies His dad managed to hold on to that smile, and (a little falteringly this time) repeats, “Come right in.” How I managed to sit through 20 minutes without bursting out laughing, I alone know! Damn, what an impression that must’ve made. Sigh!

The consequences…and my learnings:

• I hate gold (and valuable jewellery) and did NOT inherit my grandmother’s locket even after she passed away 9 months back.
• I’ve realised that gossiping (and even being a mute audience to it) does one no good; and try and abstain from it as much as is possible.
• I have learnt to read and write Malayalam, in whichever script and font size it may be!
• I do not throw shoes out the window anymore (but I still haven’t learnt to control my urge to laugh when I’m being scolded!)
• I’ve never, since, started any sentence with “my grandmother”, esp right after running!
• I do not make comments about random people anymore.
• I do not wear heels anymore.
• I swear never to step into the bridegroom’s house before my wedding, anymore. [I lead a very happily married life, and have proved that such incidents do not spell disasters (for marriages)!]

How to lose about 300 people in a matter of minutes.

Yea…you read that right: not pounds/kgs, but people!

I had had a long day at work yesterday, and had asked the husband to come all the way to my office and pick me up! The princess that I am, I refused to go home in an auto/bus. I had to have my chauffeur! Fed up of work — or rather, the lack of it — at a good-for-nothing office, he was already in a bad mood. Having to drive that extra mile amidst unrelenting traffic, and then, waiting for me outside my office forever (to which he’s become accustomed) did very little to cheer him up!

Which is when the thought of food came in—always the catalyst for a cheerful time!  So we went to a much-hyped Mallu restaurant near our place in Koramangala, Bangalore. Bad food, pathetic service, big-time delay and a high price tag. Did nothing but drive the husband deeper into the dumps!

A pack of VCDs had arrived earlier the evening (a few classic Mallu movies the husband had ordered from Moser Baer over the Internet), and i thought, “what better than a good movie to cheer up my movie freak”

So we reach home, settle down and decide to watch a movie — when he starts groping around in his pockets, beneath the cushions, under the sofa…and asks, “Where’s my mobile”?

The husband, when assured that the mobile is safe, usually does not budge from the sofa once seated, unless it’s a life threatening situation (like my heading for the TV with a hockey stick, maybe). But now, he’s up and about, searching for his mobile in all possible places a Sony Ericsson K710i can fit.
We call to his number from my phone and it says “The Airtel customer you’re trying to reach is currently out of reach…”. Momentary solace, hoping its way under the thick cushions of the sofa. Until I say that I’d heard a ‘thud’ when we turned the corner right after leaving the restaurant.

And then, pandemonium. Quick call to the restaurant: negative. Quick trip to the restaurant: negative. Not-so-quick survey of the entire lane: negative. Mobile lost: positive! And that was it. He seemed to have lost all interest in life (I wonder where I fit in ).

So, here’s how you lose about 300 people in a matter of minutes! Simple. Lose your mobile phone!

Am sure the husband won’t be empathetic to my ‘simple’ analysis. He had to learn it the hard way, poor thing The thought of having lost about 250 odd contacts, many photographs and close to a million “I love you” messages I’d sent seemed to paralyse him   How many contacts have I lost? How will I get back all those numbers?

And I say, “Call Airtel CC and  block your SIM. Ask them if we can get your mobile traced…isn’t there some IMEI number we can use?” The number is duly blocked and he promised to issue a duplicate SIM immediately, but the smart CC guy says the ‘Trace your lost phone with the IMEI number’ service is not available in India!

More depression and irritation. “Suraj, the sun” had set for a while [Perhaps this is what a baby goes through on Day 1: the world knows its identity, but the poor baby knows none!]

Which then made me wonder how much we all rely on that little gadget called a mobile phone (“we” does not include me; i rather believe mobile phones should be left wherever you please…and allow it to ring till it dies)

We no longer remember the phone numbers like we used to (of course, it’s much tougher to keep track of 8 digits compared to those cute 5-digit numbers ); we no longer jot down numbers on quaint, alphabetical diaries; we no longer rush from our seat to attend that call on the phone resting on that antique corner stool (we’d rather the mobile phone rush to us: it’s ‘mobile’ for a reason!); we no longer scribble our loved one’s birthdays on our wall calendar; we no longer have use for that round little thing lovingly called an ‘alarm clock’; in fact, we’re in a stage where we wish everything could be located with a “missed call” !

Biting nails when boredom strikes are a thing of the past: it’s the mobile phone we play with.

Reading random magazines at the dentist is passé: why that, when we have games on our mobile phone?

Receiving no calls for one full continuous hour could only be because the battery has run out; not because you’re indispensible

Owning a mobile is mandatory for anyone who wants to fall in love.

Etiquettes matter only at meetings and at the table; whoever said mobile phones come with a set of etiquettes? (Of course, I got a thick free etiquette book; but I sold it along with a stack of old newspapers! ) If you are the proud owner of a mobile phone, the following are OK:

• Letting it ring insistently with that irritating ringtone (while you grope for it in the darkness) at the theatre
• Talking on it while in a flight (endangering other passengers as well) unless the pilot threatens to jump out with his parachute
• Fiddling with the “End” button, only to change your mind, accept the call and brawl into it with a “In a meeting; will call back later… Oh, that! Man, that was funny…hehhehehe…ooops…in a meeting; will call back later!”
• Waking up people from their sleep to say “Oh…did I wake you up? Sorry, didn’t notice the time… So, how’s life?”
• Talking animatedly on the mobile phone while crossing the road, and getting (not just oneself) others too into danger
• Talking loudly (not to mention the loud ringing) in libraries, hospitals, air-conditioned public vehicles and everywhere else!
  ………..
• And a dozen other irritating stuff!

For someone who’s damn careless and absented about all things, and mobile phones especially, I’ve never lost one: so, I don’t know the agony of losing it. In fact, on those days that I forget to carry it along to work, I experience a particular sense of peace and calm — of not having to attend calls, respond to messages and ensure it’s not misplaced

I wonder how we (rest of the world excluding me) lived when the mobile phones didn’t exist! It’s a ‘maaranam’ (evil) we can’t live without, now!

Any special mobile stories, folks?