Dusks, Various

Goa

Donna Paula Jetty, Panaji

As a tourist destination this one tends to be slightly irritating, given that at any given time there will be too many people and consequently too few places to park your bum. The trick is to glare at people occupying the benches till they are forced to leave (owing to extreme discomfiture). This one requires patience but is worth it as it affords a beautiful view of the Maramgoa Port.

(View from) Royal Goan Beach Club, Baga

If you visit ask for room #63. Its quite a trek up - 500 mts. uphill from the gate followed by 4 flights of stairs (I kid you not). As if the physical exhaustion weren't enriching enough there follow 3 minutes of concentrated effort to jiggle the door open (the lock is whimsical). But the minute you walk in and slide open the balcony door you know you're getting your money's worth. The view is lovely and the surroundings oh-so quiet. Tune into the sounds of nature (

after the puffing, panting and wheezing subsides)

- birds, crickets, waves, wind - the whole orchestra's there!

Shapora Fort

Everyone loves a cliche. Vagator beach to your left, unknown beach (unknown only to me, not the general populous) to your right. And miles and miles of ocean in front. You'll struggle to capture all the colours as the sun flamboyantly plays out its descent on the sky... and on the sea. But I say - take a shot (pun intended). The result will be disappointing but not fruitless. Unless you bought a cheap camera or are grossly lacking in talent, in which case I'd recommend taking a mental picture.

Bhimeswari

The focus in this one's a shade wonky. I blame bad lighting and extreme belligerence on the part of the subject, which wobbled most annoyingly. I stole away from the group to take this one, only to be confronted by a spotted deer. I smiled... it ran. And all I have to show for my 'close encounter' is a picture of a most uncooperative flower. Eh... Ce'st la vie.

One look at this picture and the poet inside me says - "elephant droppings". Only because there is so much of it generously distributed all over the landscape, waiting to be pointed out by bored tour guides and admired endlessly by tourists. Our tour guide proceeded to direct our attention to a rather questionable elephant footprint. Skeptics were known to later say - "I didn't see nothing. It just looked like a whole in the mud to me".

I dedicate this picture to my camera. You did everything. With little or no assistance from me.

Bordi

There is a lot to be said for people who travel 3 hours for a barbecue. Who eat, drink and dance their way into the wee hours of the morning and shrug of debilitating hangovers for a water fight and a game of cricket the next day. More so to be said of the entertainment value of playing antakshari while under the influence. "Macs" are wonderful people.

(Note: The people featured in the picture are not the "Macs" in question. They are just random people strolling down the beach who happened to be photographed by a rude tourist.)

It took us 36 hours to realise that Bordi was not in Maharashtra. Either that or our respective cell-phone companies were wrongly levying roaming charges. Thats why they say - "Don't drink and jive".

Mumbai

Band-Stand, Bandra

If you want to go to one end of Band-Stand ask for Salman Khan's house. If you want to go to the other ask for Shahrukh Khan's house. Not only are these foolproof landmarks, they may also elicit a grin from your auto driver. And if you're lucky (as I tend to be in these matters) he'll chat a bit and tell you a story.

At the risk of being pummeled into sabudana vada batter I must say Band-Stand is highly overrated. It does provide a nice photo-op at dusk though. That is if you manage to look past the scores of frighteningly affectionate couples that dot the length of the promenade, the magnitude of who's amour increases exponentially at sunset. Strictly PG 13.

Kashmir

Dal Lake, Srinangar

What I love most about the pictures I took in Kashmir is the amount of time and effort I put into them despite repeated complaints of breaching timelines and jeopardizing the itinerary. I took this one from the garden of the Centaur hotel while mum was inside hyperventilating on account of my near certain abduction by a terrorist/ miscellaneous evil person. Also because the chai was getting cold.

On the way back from Baisaran we stopped to steal some plants from a field. The "we" in question were two 50 something women, 6 CRPF commandos and me (completely innocent). The sun setting over a vast expanse of yellow proved irresistable and I stopped to take pictures while thievery ensued in the background. Of course, I was blamed for slowing the party down. Life is unfair.

For loyal followers of this blog (4 at last count, author included), this one ought to ring a bell. But then I figure if something is good it bears repetition. What better way to wrap up this post than a picture from the first day of my first grand trip in a long time. The first of many I hope.

Leaving... on a Choo - Choo Train

The next time you meet someone who has just endured a 30 hour train journey – give ‘em a hug...

I wish I had the words/talent to accurately describe how tiring 30 hours of DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING can be. No exercise known to man comes close to causing as much physical exhaustion. And even the cruellest Sudoku cannot compare to the toll that idleness takes on one’s mind.

I thought I had it sorted... I mean I used to travel by train once upon a time. In addition to being invincible in every possible way (gifted at birth you see) I had the kind of temperament that was perfectly suited for combating boredom. I laughed in the face of monotony. I took to long journeys like my erstwhile landlady to glass of single malt whiskey.

There was no dearth of things to do! I could stare out the window for hours at end and not feel the slightest temptation to gouge my eyes out. I would eavesdrop on conversations (which invariably revolved around any of the following riveting subjects – rising prices, corruption in government, how unbearably hot/cold the weather is) without experiencing the urge to tear off my ears. I would read books and magazines, listen to music or just twiddle my thumbs and stare off into space like there was no tomorrow. And when all else failed – there were the naps. Ah sleep... a most calming refuge for the bored mind. If you add frequent trips to the loo, walks along the bogie and counting the minutes that pass between one chai walah and the next – well there’s hardly any time left for being bored!

Somewhere between those sanguine journeys of yore and today two irreversible developments took place –

1. I became rich (which, as I am having to painfully accept, is not exactly irreversible)

2. I got old and fussy

Between them, reasons 1. and 2. pretty much explain my inability to cope with the harsh realities of long train journeys. I’ve lost my childish enthusiasm for staring off into seemingly endless landscapes and imagining a simpler life – one look at vast expanses of depressing nothing-ness and I start to understand why so many farmers commit suicide. Agreed, the view from flights is infinitely more boring (I mean how many clouds can one admire before they all start to look the same? Provide me a view of two aeroplanes {other than the one i’m travelling in} colliding in mid-air, now that’s entertainment!!). But factor in travel time and we have a clear winner in the boredom sweepstakes –1 hour of fluffy white clouds vs. 20 hours of khet, majjan te gavan (i.e. – fields, buffaloes and cows). You decide...

And those “thrilling” trips to the loo... well they aren’t all that exciting any more. I still remember having perfected the art of relieving myself in an under-sized, smelly metal box that wobbles almost constantly. The challenge lies in doing all of this while simultaneously avoiding contact with anything inside the toilet compartment. Everything has to be nudged with an elbow, a hip, a knee or in extreme cases sheer willpower. Its the truest test of a human being’s motor skills. And as if the whole loo experience isn’t horrific enough there is the prospect of walking past and in some cases being attacked by a host of appendages dandled carelessly from upper berths... a kick in the shoulder here... a slap in the forehead there... makes you wonder how careless human beings can be with parts of their own body. Chhee...

Ownership of a laptop or i-pod only exacerbates travel woes. The railways, exhibiting a most twisted form of benevolence have provided charging points in most bogies – only there are never enough (damn the unbridled expansion of mobile telephony!) and the few that exist are either defunct or... well... temperamental. So you’re stuck with a hard disc full of FRIENDS or Family Guy or Russell Peters – whatever suits your fancy - and only 2 hrs of running time... and 28 hours of NOTHING... its the kind of frustration that makes you want to crawl into the highest berth and weep yourself to a quiet death.

About the only thing I don’t miss about flights are Flight Attendants. They scare me... I kid you not. All that smiling and courteousness? It’s just not normal human behaviour. The Train Attendants (I’m assuming that’s what they’re called) are refreshingly real – they grunt and complain and never have change for a 500. You gotta love ‘em.

In the midst of all this suffering I tried my absolute level best to day-dream about my exciting new life in Delhi... but before long the rainbows disappeared only to be replaced by far grimmer thoughts.

“First of all – I am poor again, which is never a good thing to be. Second of all I am single, which means having to find something to do on the weekends. I may even have to start reading again! Or blogging!! Sheesh... What a loser...”

“Having a rich boyfriend would go some way in solving both problems. But that would necessitate meeting new people... Crisis! And a lot of smiling... eeks. Going to places would require haggling with evil auto-wallahs... Nahiiiin!!!!”

A deadly combination of cabin fever and fear of the outside world... add a couple of large (double emphasis on the word “large”) geriatric women who take forever to navigate their bulk through the aisle and you have a neurotic on your hands.

But what is a girl to do? When she has foolishly volunteered for a life of penury. When wallet woes compel her to stop being a brat and “slum it” (3 tier AC is hardly slumming it – so i guess i’m still a little bit of a brat. Hee hee). When monetary constraints force her to trade in the comforting swoosh of the in-flight toilet flush for a rather questionable steel mug chained to a tap for fear of being stolen. Having to forego the dulcet tones of Yana’s voice as she coaches me through the safety routine on that cute little T.V. (I’ll miss you Yana... Sob). And instead, being treated to a symphony of farts and sighs and snores.

So I’m travelling on a choo – choo train

Don’t know when i’ll be sane again

In other (less dramatic) news -

I’m back home in Chandigarh with a lot of time on my hands and very little to do with it. Look forward to more gripping prose from the stables of Mademoiselle BB (ok I know prose can’t come from stables but its one of those nonsensical things you really don’t feel like deleting). Her pen is slightly fractured due to a year and ten months of bombardment by uninspiring excel spread sheets. But she’s looking to come back – newer, sharper, edgier and slightly more regular-er.

Coming attractions –

- Marry Rich or Die Tryin’

- Love, Sex aur Dhokla - The Way to a Man's Heart

- The Art of Cordial Breakups

- Cryptic Titles for Boring Blog Posts

- Book4.xls: A Labour of Love

... and much much more...