Un viaje a Pondicherry

The cool breeze from the sea blowing through my hair, the rain pouring as it were the first in hundreds of years, sitting on a colonial style balcony and sipping a cup of hot coffee. Yes it did seem like a dream. But my heart was pounding as hard as i have ever known it to beat. Not what you'd expect given the setting but just being there was magical. Well, I wasn't woken up by anyone. It was true.
Some months back as i was going on endlessly about my biking trips and my "unfailing love" for my machine i had made a spur of the moment suggestion about a trip to Pondicherry - a place known for it's strong colonial connection with France. Months went by and i never realised when my first semester of engineering came to an end and it was time to go home. Well, to be very honest going home isn't my favourite part of my vacation majorly attributable to a lack of friends back home. So when i got home i started looking for getaways and holiday destinations not so close-by. It then struck me that there was Pondicherry, a place to which i had planned three trips in the past with none of materialising. So i spoke to the only friend with whom i wanted to do this trip and before i knew i got busy with reservations for the trip.
So one fine night i got the last bus to Madras, my pit stop enroute to Pondicherry. The next morning i woke up to a wet Madras smelling, pleasantly, of the sea. I saw the early morning rush at the bus stand and found a place, a rather unlikely one that i'd prefer not elaborating to freshen up. I then caught up with my fellow traveller and found the first bus to Pondicherry.

Though we intended to take a bus which took us via the famously scenic East Coast road which as the name suggests is all along the eastern coast we managed to board the bus which took us through some of the innermost villages of Tamil Nadu, another experience in itself. Nevertheless our incessant conversation kept us busy throughout the way and as we passed through some really small villages, saw some beautiful lush green fields (i also learnt that "paddy green" was a colour), quietly noticed the roadside idli vendor make idlis and i swore never to eat idlis at a wayside stall ever again.

In a few hours we reached Pondicherry and the moment we entered Pondicherry there was a paradigm shift in the fauna, not the variety but a thick foliage almost completely cut out the sunlight, a marked difference from hundred metres before. We reached our hotel and soon headed out to explore the place on foot. We wandered through the market and new pondicherry before entering old pondicherry which again was totally different from new pondicherry. The buildings were all colonial style buildings and the names of the streets suddenly changed from the likes of "pillaiyar koil theruvu" (ganesh temple street) to names like "Rue De St Peter" (St Peter street). The colour of the buildings had changed from vivid shades of green and pink to the more sombre white, off-white or ochre yellow with typical balconies and spiral staircases. We then sat on the edge of the beach seeing the waves crashing against the rocks, a very new and alien feeling for a hopeless romantic like me. But the rain Gods do seem to have an affinity for me for they showered me with their blessings once again when i was holidaying.
It was the rain which forced us to seek shelter and led us to the very dreamy colonial balcony that i have already described.
Thereafter we proceeded to a shop and picked up some souveneirs for friends and ourselves, some supposedly "peace offerings" for my mom , who wasn't particularly happy about this trip of mine. We also walked into a random book shop selling some random books and picked up one which talked of nomadic travellers much like us. The next day saw us going to a temple and an authentic french bakery and lots and lots of downpour. We however managed to get our bus back to Madras and this time we did pick the correct bus i.e. the bus which took the East Coast road back to Madras. The natural beauty "all around" me was at it's blooming best and i even saw a beach house i might contemplate buying someday if Godwilling i have that kind of money. We even had an imaginary beachside party there. (Thank God imaginations are free of cost). We then arrived at Madras and had our dinner co-incidentally at a restaurant called "French Loaf" thereby continuing our french connection. We also had an extremely heavy conversation on our way back very unlike our trip which had been quite light hearted and loads of fun. Heavy but necessary conversation it was. What the conversation was is anybody's guess. We then parted company, goodbyes were said thankfully with no tears or promises to make such a trip every year or every six months. Such promises never last anyway. All in all an unplanned and amazingly executed trips. So just two words to all the unplanned trippers. Bon Voyage !!

BUCHOO

There are any number of sayings about how the people around you influence your life. And here i was looking at six months and so had to decide whom i wanted to stay with, I had to decide on a roommate. So when I was faced with this decision on the commencement of my most important and longest course i decided to share my room with one of my coursemates. What i did not realise was that i would be sharing the room with two other people, one of whom would soon rise to status of the owner of the room. One as i have already told you was a coursemate of mine and the other was his dog Buchoo. A weird name, but i guess you can't expect too many better names from a bachelor. So there was this sweet little white labrador pup who could hardly cover a small basket fully and who had to be fed pieces of chapattis from your own hands and who could hardly finish a small cup of milk. We started living together and soon she started growing bigger graduating from a small cup of milk to a tiffin box full of milk and bread, outgrowing collar after collar and growing bigger and bigger. She even managed to overcome her vertigo which she had developed as a pup. But along with her, also grew her tantrums, her incessant barking in the afternoons, the time for our siesta, her dirtying the room with both the solid and liquid forms of excreta, and most of all her teething problems.
Sfe would chew at just about anything from clothes and shoes to the people who wore them and from pens to the notes which were months of hard work. All the menace apart she still managed to keep us captivated and till date remains the darling of the course.
She has grown much bigger now and has even managed to jump across the drain which was like the Grand Canyon that she could never jump across. And whenever her master has to go out of station or for the evening she is never short of people who are more than happy to take care of this little sweetheart.

SINHGAD

An idle mind, they say, is a devil's workshop. And ours is no exception with the slight difference that we tried the devilry on our own selves. As we saw the weekly schedule for the week we noticed a void on the friday which was Gandhi jayanti, the dry day which meant that half our avenues for the day were going to be under lock and key and of course strict supervision of the law enforcers, commonly referred to as "cops" or in more puneri language "mamoo". This did pose a stiff challenge to do something worthwhile. So we raked our brains and came up with the idea of running to the historic Sinhgad fort. Not a very abnormal thing for punekars except that we decided that we were going to run to the base of the fort from our room a distance measuring upto a little over 30 kms. Well, it was just a joke. But as the day progressed from morning to afternoon we found ourselves taking this absurd joke more and more seriously. And by evening the atmosphere around us was similar to the one just before our cross country championship in our academy days though it was much less intense (thankfully). Chocolates were bought to carry the following day and MLs were given. An unsuccessful attempt at buying at buying a i pod was also made by me. However the fancy of punekars for bright colours and the bling left me with just pink (totally out of question) and a bright blue to choose from because of which the whole i pod plan found it's way out of the window. Anyway we returned to our beds relatively early. The next morning saw three of us leave the room at 0630 hrs just one hour later than we had planned. Some of the other guys who stay in the neighbouring rooms got up to see us off. The start was more promising than most runs i can think of. The weather, the rhythm of running et all was just perfect. Nothing more beautiful than being outdoor early in the morning. We reached Pune university comfortably from where we started our climb to Pashan. By the time we reached Pashan we felt lighter by a few kilograms and we knew that running to the base wouldn't be possible. We however continued our run till the NDA gate by which time we had run a little more than 20 kms. It was then that reality dawned on us that it had been almost two and a half years since we left the academy and that we weren't as fit anymore. Sad but true. We entered the academy and it was like entering the "gates of yesterday". I felt as if i had found a door into my past. I was filled with nostalgia. I decided that we would walk through the academy and once again breathe the same pristine air that I had for three lovely years at this place. Throughout the route things kindled memories, some fond and some not so fond, of our academy days. As soon as we left the academy gates we tried to run and almost at once we realised that walking had been a mistake. We couldn't run for as much as ten steps. So we continued walking. Enroute we crossed the Khadakwasla dam and some other places all of which we had seen as cadets. As we reached the base, our friends who were to join us at the base pulled up next to us much to our relief. We then drove to the top in the car. But at the end of the day inspite of the painful legs and the burning sun we enjoyed thoroughly at the same time vowing never to repeat our mistakes this being one of them...Long live Sinhgad, the lion's fort

ALCOHOL

Well to start with the title tells you the general outline of this piece of blog. Though staying in Pune is good fun and it synonymous with a gala time, there are no free lunches in this world (cheap ones exist though). So our time for some worthwhile work hath come. THE EXAMINATIONS. This test of our knowledge and skills or the lack of it, Iam certain poses as much of a challenge to the examiners if not more than what it throws at us. So anyway the hustle and bustle of Pune had all of a sudden become quiet for us, with most of us glued to our books and bound by the suddenly high walls of CME. However we got a breather or rather a pre-cursor to our freedom. The extended weekend gave my friends and me the liberty to take an evening off. So after a lot of deliberations and arguements and some good fellas leaving for Durga Puja, we the not so good guys decided to hit a lounge by the name of Kiva. The first to arrive were the three of us and the multitude x 2 (read couples) left us wondering whether we had made the right choice. A drink had hardly gone in when my phone rang for the first time ina series of endless calls to come. Two more guys had decided to join us there. So from the table for three we had to be shift to a table for five, space being a premium. And yes there was also a giant screen showing the Indian cricket team in all its misery. More liqour followed (i could have replaced folllowed with flowed). Several drinks several phone calls and after shifting our table twice we were thirteen guys in all. And instead of a terrible situation which stared me in the face when i entered which would have been being surrounded bu couples and not knowing where to look during their coochie-cooing, it was they who were looking at us now. A boisterous crowd of thirteen singing with the music real loud cheering for a boundary raising toasts trojan style, drinking fire shots and a few sober guys trying to calm down the others. After all the drinks and more of them suddenly a plate of food appeared from nowhere on the table. Apparently some guys were sober enough and hungry enough to order food. So after the food when we did manage to amble outside the general opinion was to go anywhere but our rooms, which as I see in hindsight was wisely put down by the sober wisemen (also popularly called by us as the uncles). The bikes were then revved up with the usual drunk dialogues of "i'll drive..i drive very well after drinking" and the more indian "bhai pe bharosa nahin hai kya". So after the melodrama and the 'great drivers' and the 'bharosas' we finally managed to get to our rooms. The next morning was for discussing the drama of the previous night which the lesser spoken about is better.

MOTORCYCLE DIARIES 2

An otherwise normal guy i sometimes wonder whether being impulsive(as i was on this particular day) has more pros or cons.Anyway putting that thought aside for a while i'll come down to another lazy afternoon on the 2nd of September which left me short of ideas as to what i should do in the four day vacation which started that day. The answers literally came from up above. One of my coursemates called out from the first floor asking me if i wanted to go to Goa. I replied in the affirmative. Precisely twenty minutes later two Royal Enfield Thunderbirds we revving and rumbling on the highway headed to a known place but on a scrarily unfamiliar route. Vowing to drive all night we reached Mahabaleshwar at 11.30 at night. Notwithstanding the cold i decided to go ahead and have the famous strawberries with cream, a thing mahabaleshwar is famous for. My buddy who by now had forgotten that he had a back (sitting on a bike without a backrest) and I then set course for Goa. It rained harder and we drove faster. An otherwise uneventful (read normal) journey suddenly shook me up, and much more than me shook up my pillion rider. My coursemates used to say (they still do) and can swear by anyone that Karthik can sleep anywhere and everywhere and lo and behold i pulled off yet another feat unthinkable for many. I slept on a bike moving at 70 kms an hour when noticing my inaction at a fast approaching vehicle my buddy jolted me out of my sleep and beleive me i could have jumped out of my skin when i woke up and saw a car heading straight for me and quite fast at that. Fortunately we just about made our way out of the car's path and I am alive and blogging here. The rest of the journey saw me at my alert best and was good except for a punctured tyre that took us three and a half hours to rectify and gave my fellow riders and me the much wanted dose of some sleep even if it was outside a village shop which was far from comfortable but i guess adventure and comfort don't form a part of the same package. We then reached Goa and stayed in a shack on a beach pretty much drunk for three days and a pretty wild night when two of us drank two bottles of wine in about fifteen minutes or so. The next morning of course left our minds clean oblivious to everything that had happened the previous evening. The drive back to Pune was a much safer one on a much better road which afforded us the liberty of riding at speeds of 80 kms an hour consistently. It might seem a little strange that a post about a trip to Goa has no mention whatsoever of any female presence. Well frankly and sadly there wasn't any. I would definitely make a mention of my biking buddy Ashish Tiwari for the benefit of those who do know him. Kudos brother!! As for thr trip and the MOTORCYCLE DIARIES hopefully there shall be many more.

the madras sojourn

I Just got back to the quite and serene environs of my room from the usual and unusual hustle and bustle of an indian wedding for which i had gone to madras (i loathe calling it chennai). The question that would rise up now is "whose wedding was it?" and the answer is probably the most amusing one. It was my parents wedding and i am not drunk. I just came back from my parents' wedding. According to our customs all the rituals carried out during a wedding are repeated when a man turns 60 years. So we actually managed to re-live my parents wedding 25 years after the original one happened. As for me personally i attended any sort of family function after about 8 years. Come to think of it if this thing was a couple of years later it would've been a decade. Anyway in between the maddening arrangements i did manage to take time out to meet a friend with whom i had a long chat, who is actually the one i owe this blog to because it was she who even inspired me to start my blog. So here i am blogging away. This being my first attempt at blogging i guess any flaws in it can be pardoned though i do hope to improve on it. Will add more to the MADRAS SOJOURN at a more earthly hour.